Read an Excerpt
Snow Place to Die
A Bed-and-Breakfast Mystery
By Mary Daheim HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright ©2006 Mary Daheim
All right reserved. ISBN: 0380785218
Chapter One
Judith McMonigle Flynn stacked twenty-four pancakes on a platter, grabbed the syrup pitcher, and opened the swinging door with her hip. Just behind her, the kitchen phone rang.
"Damn!" Judith cursed under her breath, then sheepishly smiled at the eight hungry, curious faces seated around the old oak dining room table. The phone kept ringing. "Sorry," Judith apologized, as she set the pancakes and syrup on the table, "I don't usually get calls this early unless they're reservations from the East Coast."
The bed and breakfast guests made various incomprehensible sounds, then began dishing up pancakes. Judith returned to the kitchen just as the phone trunked over to the answering machine. After delivering bacon, eggs, and extra butter, she checked the message.
"I know you're there, you twit!" Cousin Renie' s voice had an early-morning croak. "Call me! Quick!"
It was 7:36. Judith's cousin never, ever got out of bed before nine and almost never achieved full consciousness until ten. Apprehensively, Judith dialed Renie's number.
"Are you okay?" Judith asked in a breathless voice.
"I'm terrible," Renie replied crossly. "I'm up the creek, in the soup, down the toilet."
Theexaggerated response relieved Judith's mind. If Renie had been held hostage or was lying at the bottom of her basement stairs, she wouldn't describe her plight so vividly. Judith poured a mug of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. "So what's really wrong?" she asked, more intrigued than alarmed.
A big sigh rolled over the phone line from the other side of Heraldsgate Hill. "It's the OTIOSE conference -- you know, the Overland Telecommunications and Information Organization of Systems Engineers."
"It's called OTIOSE for short?" Judith asked in surprise. "Do they know what it means?"
"Of course not. They're engineers. Anyway," Renie went on, still sounding vexed, "they used to be part of the local phone company before the Bell System got broken up by the Justice Department. Remember I told you I was putting together a really big graphic design presentation for their annual winter retreat? I'm redoing their logo, their colors, everything right down to the cheap pens they hand out to lucky customers and members of their board. But there's a problem -- the caterer backed out at the last minute and they've asked me to find a sub."
"So? There are a zillion caterers in the Yellow Pages. If they're telephone company people, why can't they let their fingers do the walking?"
"Because they are telephone company people. Their brains aren't attached to their fingers. Plus, these are the top executives. They're not used to doing things for themselves." Renie was clearly exasperated. "Anyway, I opened my big mouth and told them I knew a topnotch caterer. Believe it or not, I was referring to you. What do you say?"
"Ohhh . . ." Judith set her mug down with a thud and splashed coffee onto the plastic table cover. Running a B&B was hard enough, especially with the holidays so recently behind her. Of late she'd been trying to phase out the catering arm of her business. For several years it had been a joint venture with Judith's friend and neighbor, Arlene Rankers. Her husband, Carl, had retired two years earlier, and their family of five had expanded. The quiet leisure years they'd anticipated had turned into a merry-go-round of grandchildren crawling around in the laurel hedge that separated the Rankers and Flynn properties. Arlene no longer had the time or the energy to help run a full-scale catering service, and Judith couldn't do it without her.
"I really don't think I can manage on such short notice," Judith said at last. "Isn't the retreat this weekend?"
"Right, over the three-day Martin Luther King holiday." Renie paused. "It'd be for only a day, actually. All you have to do is set up the first meal on Friday, then stock the fridge and freezer and whatever. The rest of the weekend is . . ."
"More coffee please," came a request from the dining room.
"Do you have powdered sugar?" called another guest.
"There's something gruesome crawling around under the table," complained a third, rather frantic voice.
Judith hadn't heard the last part of Renie's explanation. "Coz, I'll get back to you in half an hour," she said, feeling a touch of panic.
The coffee and powdered sugar were delivered, then Judith dove under the big oak table to retrieve her cat, Sweetums. The cat arched his back, hissed, and began rubbing against the sheer stockings on a pair of rather hefty legs.
"Eeek!" cried a voice somewhere over Judith's head. "My hose! I'm being attacked by an animal! I feel fur and disgusting warmth!"
"What is it?" inquired an anxious male voice. "Not a porcupine, surely."
Judith grabbed Sweetums with both hands and dragged him out from under the table. "Sorry," she apologized again. "My husband must have let him in when he went to work."
"I hate cats," said the woman who had first complained.
"Cats carry all kinds of dread disease," stated a man at the end of the table.
"That cat looks mean," remarked a woman who was sprinkling powdered sugar on her pancakes. "Is he rabid?"
Sweetums was now sitting by the swinging doors, his long, fluffy tail curled around his large orange, white, and gray body. The yellow eyes narrowed and the whiskers twitched.
"He's a very healthy cat," Judith declared in a defensive tone. "I'll take him outside. Come on, Sweetums. Let's go eat some birds.-
A gasp went up from some of the guests. Judith immediately realized she should have kept her mouth shut. But this time she didn't apologize. Nudging Sweetums with her foot, she guided him into the kitchen, down the narrow hail past the pantry and the back stairs, and out onto the porch.
Sweetums balked. It was extremely cold, as befitted the third week of January. Heavy dark clouds hung in low over Heraldsgate Hill. Despite the budding camellia bushes and . . .
Continues...
Excerpted from Snow Place to Die by Mary Daheim Copyright ©2006 by Mary Daheim. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
