The New York Times bestselling author of Tough Cookie dishes up another tasty treat of murder and mystery -- as caterer turned sleuth Goldy Schulz stirs up a heap of trouble while trying not to get burned by a killer who is striking far too close to home....
For Colorado caterer Goldy Schulz, accepting a series of bookings at Hyde Castle is like a dream come true. It's not every day that she gets to cook authentic Elizabethan fare -- especially at a real castle that was brought over from England and reassembled stone by stone in Aspen Meadow. Goldy is determined that everything will go right -- which is why, she figures later, everything went terribly wrong.
It all started before dawn on the day of the first Anglophile lunch, when Goldy had just about the rudest awakening possible: a shotgun blast through her living room window. With her home now a crime scene and her cop husband, Tom, out of town searching for a fugitive hijacker, Goldy has no choice but to show up at the castle -- six hours early. And it doesn't take her long to realize that her early morning wake-up call was only the beginning....
While out checking on the tables for the luncheon, Goldy spots something strange lying in the Cottonwood Creek. Upon closer inspection, she can see that it is a body, clad in flannel and shot through the head. Goldy quickly dials 911, but before the police arrive, shots ring out for the second time that day -- and this time, someone Goldy loves is right in the line of fire.
Now Goldy has to face tough question: Was the victim killed by his partners in crime to keep him quiet -- and would they go so far to target Goldy herself? Could Tom's investigation have trigger a murder? Or could that shots be completely unrelated, perhaps coming at the hands of Goldy's violent and recently paroled ex-husband?
With her own life in peril, the last thing Goldy wants to think about is Shakespeare's Steak Pie, 911 Chocolate Emergency Cookies, or Damsel-in-Distress Plum Tart. But with death peering around every corner, she has no choice but to cook up some crime-solving solutions -- before the only dish that's left on her menu is murder....
Nighttime noises are torture. When a midnight wind shrieks through our window jambs, or footsteps clomp past the house, I think, It could be anything. Once a snowbank slid from our roof and thundered onto the deck. I awoke, heart pounding, convinced I'd been shot.
It isn't logical, of course. But living with terror for seven years had not made me the most rational of thinkers, least of all when roused from sleep. A sound could be anything? No.
It was something.
When I awoke at four o'clock on Monday morning, February ninth, those years of dread were long over. Still, I was certain I'd heard a tiny scraping noise, like boots chafing against ice. Think, I warned myself. Don't panic.
Heart pulsing, throat dry, I waited for my brain to clear, for the sound to come again. My husband Tom was out of town. Even when he's at home, noise rarely interrupts his slumber. Tom is a big hulking cop, and isn't afraid of much.
I shifted in the chilled sheets. The temperature...
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