Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

it’s over, and I’ll be coming by the house to pick up some clothes and stuff as soon as I get off work this afternoon.”
    Alice leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “Notify him—how?”
    Her teeth clenched, April let out a breath through her nose. “Text message,” she said. “As soon as I’m finished here with you, I’ll send it. There’s no sense putting it off any longer. I can’t take any more.” She jabbed a finger toward Snow. “And I’ll suggest Tyson not be there when we show up because I’ll be bringing Donald along with me—and he’ll have his gun with him—just in case.”

“What do you think?” Alice said.
    “The chili macaroni is fantastic. Just the right amount of tomato sauce; the spice factor has been pushed to the limit without going overboard. This is what I like about this buffet—they serve a lot of different home-style dishes. You won’t find dishes like these at many of the other buffets. Stuffed peppers, cabbage rolls, chicken livers, casseroles—it’s almost like a potluck.” Snow shoveled another scoop of chili macaroni into his mouth and grinned, chewing happily.
    “It amazes me that you don’t weight four hundred pounds, the way you eat.”
    “It’s all the running and weight lifting,” Snow said. “Burns a lot of calories. Did you know your muscles burn calories while you’re sleeping?”
    “So that’s what’s been keeping me up those nights I can’t sleep. Anyway, I meant about the case,” Alice said. “What are your thoughts on the investigation? And why are you using a soup spoon to eat that with?”
    Snow finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s the only utensil that works. You try to load this stuff onto a fork, and it’ll all fall off on the way to your mouth.” He took a sip of lemonade. “I know what you’re thinking: I don’t have any manners. I used proper etiquette most of my life. Now that I’m older and smarter, I do what makes sense.”
    “What would you do if the Queen of England were sitting here with us?”
    “I’d ask her if she was lost.” Snow glanced at Alice’s plate. “I can’t believe you’re not interested in the collard greens. It’s usually pretty salty, but not so much today. And there’s a lot of meat in it. They’re very tasty.”
    “I can’t stand collard greens,” Alice said, working her knife through a section of sliced turkey breast.
    Snow switched to his fork and stabbed a few green beans with it. “That’s hard to believe, considering your heritage,” he said.
    “I’m not from the South,” she said. “I’m a Yankee.”
    “I thought collard greens were a universal staple of your people.” He put the forkful of green beans into his mouth and munched thoughtfully on them.
    “I was never made aware of that,” Alice said. “And you may have noticed I’m not that partial to fried chicken, ribs, or watermelon either.”
    He pointed his fork at her. “Now that’s downright un-American.”
    Alice impaled a small piece of turkey with her fork and aimed it toward her mouth. “I like hot dogs, burgers, and pizza. I also like lutefisk. Isn’t that considered a traditional favorite of your people?”
    Snow wrinkled his nose. “That stuff is terrible. I was forced to eat it nearly every Sunday when I was growing up. My mother’s parents loved it. Every time we went to visit them, they’d make it. It was like mush.”
    “I adore it,” Alice said. “But you have to prepare it properly. I’ll have you over for dinner one night and make it for you. I think you’ll like my version of it.”
    He shook his head. “I doubt it, but I’ll give it a try. I like to keep an open mind. If it isn’t any good, we can always order a pizza.”
    Alice giggled. “You really know how to please a woman.”
    From his front jeans pocket, Snow’s phone chirped. He set his fork on his plate, pulled the phone out, and flipped it open. He looked at the display and muttered, “This guy always calls when we’re eating.”
    He put the phone to his ear. “Jack, what’s up?”
    “Just checking in,” Jack said.
    “Okay,” Snow said. “Thanks for calling.”
    “Anything?”
    “Not yet,” Snow said. “We’ll be in touch.” He snapped the phone shut and put it in his pocket.
    “You don’t think that was a little bit rude?” Alice asked.
    Snow took a sip from his glass of lemonade and set it back down.
    Before he could comment, the phone in Alice’s purse began to ring.
    Arching his eyebrows,