Dead Pan
Authors: Gayle Trent
Praise for Murder Takes the Cake
Book One in
The Daphne Martin
Cake Decorating Mysteries
“Murder Takes the Cake has all the earmarks of a good cozy: a mystery to solve, a cast of colorful characters, humor, and tiny hint of romance. It is a promising start to a new series. You did not think I could resist a one-eyed cat, did you?”
—Literary Feline.com
“Highly recommended. Five stars!”
—Kaye’s Penguin Posts
“A very enjoyable cozy.”
—Vixen's Daily Reads
“Murder Takes The Cake has all the right ingredients for a delicious read.”
—Ellen Crosby, author of The Bordeaux Betrayal
“Entertaining.”
—A Bookworm’s World
“I can’t wait to read the next one!”
—Mystery Lovers Corner.com
“Breezy fun.”
—Harriet Klausner, an Amazon Top Reviewer
Dead Pan
by
Gayle Trent
Bell Bridge Books
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead,) events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 30921
Memphis, TN 38130
ISBN for eBook:
978-1-935661-51-1
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 2009 by Gayle Trent
Published in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact us at the address above or at [email protected]
Visit our websites –
www.BelleBooks.com
and
www.BellBridgeBooks.com
.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credits: Cake/background - "©
Gabriela Duran Fuentes
|
Dreamstime.com
"
Knife - © Gary Woodard | Fotolia.com
Recipes reprinted with permission from Holly Clegg's trim&TERRIFIC
™ Gulf Coast Favorites cookbook
and Holly Clegg's trim&TERRIFIC
™ Freezer Friendly Meals.
:Fr:01:
For Tim, Lianna and Nicholas
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my wonderfully supportive and loving family. Without you guys, my life would be empty.
Thank you to my editor, Deborah Smith, whose patience and indulgence are greatly appreciated.
Thank you to Craig Gustafson, editor in chief of cake decorating’s top magazines
Mailbox News
and
American Cake Decorating
. Not only does he support cake decorators though his fabulous magazines, he’s a great guy. I had the privilege of meeting him at the 2009 Oklahoma Sugar Art Show where he chatted up decorators, wannabes (like me) and vendors alike.
A special thanks to Kerry Vincent (who makes a cameo in
Dead Pan
) for providing knowledge of the cake world and limitless encouragement. Kerry is the reigning queen of the cake world.
A special thanks also to Holly Clegg, author of the
trim&TERRIFIC
™
cookbooks. Holly is a fantastic cook who specializes in healthy alternative recipes for people who are watching their weight, cancer patients and diabetes sufferers. In short, Holly rocks! Visit her online at
http://www.hollyclegg.com/
.
Last, but not least, thank you for reading this book. I hope you will enjoy it.
More Great Cozy Mysteries From Bell Bridge Books
For the second time in as many months, I found myself telling a police officer, “I just brought the cake.”
We were sitting in my cozy Brea Ridge, Virginia kitchen with its beige walls, white cabinets and light-colored wood floor. My kitchen is usually a peaceful, happy place. But then, I’m usually not being interrogated here . . . although, since I solved the murder of Yodel Watson, I am interrogated here more than you might think.
“Yes, Ms. Martin,” the policeman was saying, “and the lab is already testing remnants of that cake to determine whether or not it’s the cause of the death.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Or, at least, it will be when you see that the cake is innocent.” It was also a relief to be dealing with Officer McAfee rather than Officer Hayden this time. Officer McAfee appeared to be on the backside of thirty and didn’t seem to rush to judgment the way young Officer Hayden had.
“Nevertheless, ninety percent of the folks who attended the Brea Ridge Pharmaceutical Christmas party are violently ill today,” Officer McAfee said.
“Right. As I said, I just brought the cake. I didn’t stay for the festivities.”
“Lucky you.” His brown fingers fumbled with a small blue notebook. “You didn’t notice anything unusual going on?”
“Like
Momba Womba
spiking the punch?” With a name like
Daphne
, I’m entitled to a Scooby Doo reference now and then, especially when I’m nervous. I can’t remember what Momba Womba really did on the cartoon show, although I do remember he was a witch doctor. I’m fairly sure he didn’t spike any punch, or else Shaggy and Scooby would’ve been in big trouble. Those guys would eat and drink things found in cobweb-covered cabinets in creepy haunted houses.
Officer McAfee’s dark eyes widened as he leaned forward in my kitchen chair. “You saw somebody spike the punch?”
“No, no . . . I didn’t see anything.”
He stood up. “If you think of something—anything at all—that might’ve made those people sick, call me.” He handed me his business card. “This is deadly serious, Ms. Martin. Fred Duncan is in the hospital in a coma today.”
“Fred Duncan?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“He works at the Save-A-Buck.”
“Right.”
I walked Officer McAfee to the door. “That’s terrible. Do the doctors think he’ll be okay?”
He shook his head. “It’s not looking good.”
I’d barely had time to absorb that upsetting information and put our coffee cups in the dishwasher before my neighbor Myra was at the door. Myra is a feisty widow with too much time on her hands, but she is always entertaining. I invited her in, and we went to sit in the living room. I felt I might as well be comfortable for my inquisition.
“Getting to be a habit? The police car, I mean. I thought I saw a police car over here.” Myra kicked off her loafers and dropped into my pink and white checked club chair.
“You did. Oh my. You
did
see a putty tat. Or a police car.”
She stared at me, unblinking. The Tweety Bird cartoon joke was lost on Myra. She was like a bloodhound with a scent to follow.
“What were they doing here?”
I sat down on the couch. “Brea Ridge Pharmaceuticals had their Christmas party last night.”
“Were you there? Did it get rowdy? Was there a drunken brawl?”
“I delivered a cake, but I left before the party started.”
“So you didn’t get to see the brawl?”
“As far as I know, there was no brawl.”
“Then why were the police here?”
“A lot of people who were at the party got sick.”
“From your cake?”
I held up my hand. “Definitely
not
from my cake. Officer McAfee said the lab is testing remnants of the cake, and I have no doubt it will be fine. No doubt whatsoever.”
“Remnants? I thought only carpet came in remnants. Huh.” She folded her legs up under her. “That Officer McAfee is a good looking man, ain’t he? He reminds me of Malcolm Winters from
Y and R
. Of course, Malcolm is on that crime show now, so there you go.”
“There you go,” I echoed, as if her train of thought made one iota of sense.
“What was it that made everybody so sick?”
“They don’t know yet. Fortunately, the company had some drugs on hand that lessened the symptoms for most of them. They couldn’t help poor Fred Duncan, though.”
“He still sick?”
I nodded slowly. “He’s in a coma.”
“Fred Duncan is in a coma?” She scoffed. “Bet he’s fakin’.”
“Myra, you can’t fake a coma.”
“Oh, honey, you
can
. I did it one time. Me and Carl had this big fight, and he stormed out. I wanted him to find me passed out on the bedroom floor when he got home so he’d feel really ashamed for how he’d left.”
I merely stared at her with my mouth hanging open.
“I took a couple of sleeping pills and laid down on the floor,” she continued. “I don’t know how long I’d been asleep before Carl got home, but he was plenty worried when he finally got me revived. He called an ambulance and everything. And that wasn’t like Carl. Normally, he was so cheap, he’d have just pitched me in the back of the Buick, turned on the four-way flashers and took me to the hospital himself.” She smiled smugly. “Even with our insurance, that ambulance trip cost us a pretty penny. They checked my heart and everything.”
“You didn’t tell the doctor you took the sleeping pills?”
“Nah. That showed up in the blood work later. But by then, they’d gone over me with a fine tooth comb. I even got to have a CT scan. Let me tell you, Carl Jenkins never dared storm off and leave me again.”