Fed up

and was scraping out pumpkins for the baked pumpkin stew, and my mother was rushing around pointlessly moving platters from counter to counter and probably driving Josh bonkers. I just had to get her out of his way soon. But what really hit was the presence of an uncomfortable number of people who’d been around on the day of Francie's murder: Josh and me, obviously, as well as Digger, Robin, and Nelson. And Willie and Evan would be here soon, too. Flow had Adrianna’s wedding turned into a reunion of homicide suspects?
    “Does everyone know each other?” my mother asked. Without waiting for a response, she began introductions, each of which included a short bio. “Digger is the executive chef at a delightful tapas restaurant. He’s going to be Josh’s right-hand man today.”
    Sweat glistened in Digger’s curly hairline. He gave a gruff “Yo!” to the room as he set a stainless-steel tray on a counter.
    “And Robin.” My mother gestured to the cable-TV director, who was busy trying to get Nelson to move the camera off me. “Robin did a splendid piece on gardening a few years ago. She not only featured our landscaping business but also filmed part of that show at the nursery owned by Emilio’s family, the one where these two assistants work.” When Mom pointed at Emilio’s cousins, I noticed that Hector was staring intently at Robin.
    My mother continued her spiel. “Next is Alfonso, currently in charge of inventory and ordering at one of my favorite nurseries. He doesn’t speak English, so thank goodness we have Josh and Emilio here to translate. Where is Emilio, by the way? He should’ve been back by now.”
    As if on cue, Emilio entered the kitchen. “I’m here. Sorry that took so long.” He was holding an open box filled with flowers. I couldn’t wait to get a better look at the flowers. Ade had ordered deep orange roses for the bouquets. Even from across the kitchen, I could see how beautiful the color was. “Oh, good,” my mother said. “Everyone, this is Emilio. Emilio, this is Robin, Nelson, and Digger. Of course, your cousins and Chloe you already know.”
    When Emilio smiled at me, I did my best to remain cool as I smiled politely back. I wished Nelson would get that silly camera off me.
    “And this is Josh Driscoll,” my mother said, pointing to Josh, who finally set down the knife he’d been using to slice mushrooms.
    Josh wiped his hands on his apron. He looked up, ready to greet Emilio, but all of a sudden, his face hardened.
    Emilio looked momentarily confused and then started to speak. “Oh. It’s you. We’ve, uh, we’ve actually met before—”
    “That’s right. We have met before, you goddamn bastard!” Without warning, Josh rammed his way through the mob of people in the kitchen, reached Emilio, came to an abrupt halt, drew back a fist, and punched Emilio squarely in the jaw. The first punch was powerful, but before Emilio had a chance to recover from the blow, my chef socked him again. Hard. Emilio spun sideways, and as he fell to the ground, he dropped the flower box and sent the bouquets and boutonnieres flying everywhere.
    I was flabbergasted and furious. “Oh, my God! Josh, what are you doing?” I reached Josh and grabbed his arm before he could haul off and hit Emilio again. Somehow, Josh must have discovered that Emilio had asked me out. Who would have told him? How on earth had he found out?
    “You want to know who this is?” Josh looked at me with fury in his blue eyes. “This is the asshole I took Inga from. This is the creep who was going to throw that cat in the river.”
     

 
    “WHAT?” I yelled in disbelief. “What!”
    Emilio had managed to rise to his feet, but I marched up to him, shoved both hands against his chest, and knocked him back down.
    “You sicko!” I screamed. “You get out of here! Get out of here now, before I grab one these knives and cut your throat, you fiend! You were going to drown a poor, helpless little cat! My poor, helpless cat! Get of here right now before I knock you senseless and drag you to the bathtub and hold your head underwater and see how you—”
    While I was in the midst of my tirade, Emilio scrambled to his feet. Clutching his jaw, he crushed Ade’s flowers as he backed out of the kitchen. Everyone who remained was frozen in place, but poor Hector and Alfonso looked more dazed than anyone else. As Josh began explaining the situation to them in Spanish, I explained in English.
    “Good God!” my