“I called, rapping my knuckles on the door that stood ajar. The faint smell of darkroom chemicals drifted into my nostrils. “C’mon in, I’m just finishing up,” came a disembodied voice. “I’ll be out in a moment.” I left the door as I’d found it and wandered through Richard Koser’s Craftsman-style bungalow to the kitchen in the back. My nose twitched. Here the chemical smell was augmented by something more exotic, spicy. Must be cumin, I thought, and onions, definitely onions. A man of many talent...s, Richard was not only a fine photographer, but also a masterful chef. He loved nothing more than poring through cookbooks and turning out exotic—and delicious—meals. “Hi, Jessica,” Richard said, pulling aside a heavy curtain from the doorway to his darkroom. “Can you stay for lunch? I’m trying out a new curry recipe for kooftah, and MaryJane went over to Bangor for the day.” “I wish I could, Richard, but I’m supposed to meet Mort at his office, and I have a few errands to run before then.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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