Page 27 of The Little Porto Book Club

‘Wait, what? Kiss or kill list. I’ve missed something.’

A heavy sigh breaches my lips. ‘That day when I used the power of my mind to get your attention and you mistakenly thought I was asking you for a kiss. When I was trying to get you to confirm what Lucinda’s scrawls were because you were sitting closer. I can confirm for sure it read: Six ways to kill my husband or Six way to kiss my husband. Did you not see the notebook? You were sitting closer to her than I was!’ This is unbelievable.

‘What! And you’ve waited until now to tell me this?’ His voice is a screech.

Typical man, straight to gaslighting. ‘What? That day we made eye contact and shared what I thought were many nonverbal communications. I’d been all set to ask you to be my sidekick this evening, but now I’m not so sure.’

His eyes are wide with fear or something close to that. Sidekicks can’t be fearful. This is a concern. ‘Those looks, riiiight. But Vi, I mean, Viviane, do you really think Lucinda is capable of …’ he darts a nervous glance over his shoulder ‘… murder?’ The word comes out in a whisper.

‘Yes, if pushed to breaking point, most humans would be. Maybe Lucinda’s husband is a loud chewer, that would drive anyone mad. What on earth did you think my urgent looks at book club were about?’ I’m stunned that we’re not on the same page. In fact, we’re not even reading the same book!

Tiago runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further. ‘I guess I thought … it doesn’t matter. Someone is going to die, shouldn’t that be our main concern?’ He swallows hard as if the idea is unpalatable to him. That’s a good thing, but it’s not like we haven’t read about these exact scenarios, being whodunnit enthusiasts, right? He should be equipped to handle this, unless he can’t stomach the fact it’s a real person, and that I can understand.

‘Depends,’ I say, taking a sip of wine, relishing in my power. As if I, Viviane Álverez, am made from the same cloth as the indomitable Detective Amber Quill.

There’s a hunch to his shoulders as if this news is weighing him down. To be expected. Detective Amber Quill’s sidekick, Dr Alexander is much the same.

‘Depends on what?’

I arch a brow. ‘If she’s already done the deed.’

‘Who would she kill?’

And I deflate, just like that. My hapless prodigy is not joining the dots. ‘Well, Poirot, I presume it’s Lucinda’s husband if she has six methods already plotted out like her list described, one of which must be some kind of toxin – maybe an ingestible poison.’

He slaps his forehead. ‘Right, right.’

‘Do you remember the jagged cut on Lucinda’s hand the first day we met her? A gardening injury, allegedly. Who potters around their garden wearing white clothing? Don’t you think that’s a little odd?’

‘No.’ He frowns. ‘I mean, maybe? Should I?’

‘Tiago, really?’

‘OK, it’s a little odd.’ He takes a huge slug of wine. ‘Let’s hope she is back at book club next week and this has all been blown out of proportion.’ He shudders. ‘I’m going to hope the list was about kissing, because wouldn’t that be such a relief? Are there even six ways to kiss?’

An uncomfortable heat creeps up my neck. Is it hot in here? No doubt their air conditioning is subpar or struggling under the intensity of a long, hot Porto summer.

‘I can confirm there are.’

He waggles a brow, his goofy side coming to the fore. It’s impossible not to laugh, Tiago really does bring the comic relief. I’ve chosen my sidekick well.

‘Why would she write a kiss list though?’ I ask. ‘Makes no sense.’

‘It’s a mystery. And I’d suggest we need to schedule further time to discuss this together, if I am to be your right-hand man. I know you like keeping to a strict timetable.’

‘That’s a good idea.’ I smile, relieved Tiago hasn’t laughed off this whole wacky situation, like so many have done before when my suspicions have been aroused for one reason or another.

‘Let’s put a pin in that for now.’ He gives a subtle nod to a table of four who’ve just been seated close enough to overhear. ‘I’d hate for our food to get cold. Would you like to try this?’ Before I can object Tiago is bringing a fork to my lips.

I have two choices. Keep my lips firmly closed. Or accept the morsel before it ends up down the front of my red dress. In the interests of not losing another item of clothing to a Tiago debacle I reluctantly open my mouth.

‘Good?’

The action of a man feeding me is far too intimate. A tingle sweeps over me, but I duly shut the feeling off. Well, I try to, but that’s the problem with visceral reactions, we are but at the mercy of our bodies, a design fault if ever there was one. This might be the breaking down of defences that I need to be on the lookout for. Wary of. Just because my body is reacting it doesn’t have to mean anything.

He motions to the small share plate in front of me, as if he wants me to feed him. ‘We’re sharing forks now?’ I hardly know the guy.

Do platonic friends feed each other this way? I hazard a guess it’s not standard for book club friends. This sort of behaviour is romance novel worthy. I have little experience with long-term friends, but it’s not as if Tiago is being flirty, he seems to be genuinely enjoying sharing the dish and delighting over the flavours.