Part 1 (1/2)
MURDER IS A PIECE OF CAKE.
JOSIE MARCUS, MYSTERY SHOPPER.
Elaine Viets.
For Mary Alice Gorman, who was there at Josie's birth.
Enjoy her wedding.
Acknowledgments.
Publis.h.i.+ng a novel is a team effort, and I'm lucky to have Sandra Harding, my editor at NAL. Thank you for a thorough critique. I appreciate the efforts of a.s.sistant Elizabeth Bistrow, hardworking publicist Kayleigh Clark, the NAL copy editor, and the production staff.
Jinny Gender is my bridge adviser and Maplewood expert. My friend and Femmes Fatales blog sister Hank Phillippi Ryan helped with the television section. Thanks to Liz Aton, Valerie Cannata, Kay Gordy, Alan Portman, Molly Portman, Jack Klobnak, Bob Levine, Sue Schlueter, Janet Smith, Jennifer Snethen, and Anne Watts.
Thanks to teacher MarySue Carl's fifth-period biology cla.s.s at Arroyo High School, El Monte, California, for their help with Amelia's language. Go, Blue Pride!
The Rev. Kalen McAllister's good works include helping the homeless, visiting prisoners-and giving me information about life in the county jail.
The Jewel Box is not open for weddings the day after Thanksgiving, except for Josie. It is, however, a beautiful place to get married.
Thank you, Linda Dattilo, for explaining Molly's trek through the court system and how she could wear a bridal gown instead of a jail jumpsuit in front of a judge.
Doris Ann Norris is not a Maplewood police officer, but a retired librarian and a friend to writers. Big Dave the pizza deliveryman is Dave Kellogg, a pizza driver, reservist, and disabled Iraq-era war veteran who is now a contractor in Afghanistan.
Special thanks to Detective R. C. White, Fort Lauderdale Police Department (retired), and to the law enforcement men and women who answered my questions on police procedure. Some police and medical sources have to remain nameless, but I'm grateful for their help. Any mistakes are mine.
Cath Hoffner is a real person and a true pet lover. She still feels guilty that her cat Audrey swallowed that balloon ribbon, though Dr. Ted said it wasn't her fault and many pet owners wouldn't have paid for the surgery to save a cat's life. Cath's little girl, Kristyn, is now grown up.
Thanks to Rach.e.l.le L'Ecuyer, Community Development Director for the City of Maplewood.
Are you a fan of writer John Lescroart? Me, too. He bid one thousand dollars at a Left Coast Crime auction for a character name in this novel. John asked that the character be named after a buddy and former manager at Borders Fair Oaks, Tom Hedtke. John's money will go to the Sacramento Library Adult Literacy Program. Thank you, John, for helping writers and readers.
Many booksellers help keep this series alive. I wish I could thank them all.
Thank you to the librarians at the Broward County Library, the St. Louis Public Library, and St. Louis County Library. Librarians are the original search engines.
For my husband, Don Crinklaw, a heartfelt thank-you for listening to Josie's wedding plans. Thanks also to my agent, David Hendin.
Amelia's cat is based on my striped writing partner, Harry, who snores by my monitor while I write. Stuart Little is a real s.h.i.+h tzu. His owner, Bill Lichtenberger of Palm City, Florida, made a generous donation to the Humane Society of the Treasure Coast to see Stuart's name in my novels.
Thank you, blog sisters. I rely on the advice and encouragement of the wise women in the Femmes Fatales (). Stop by our blog.
Harry and Stuart's photos are on my Web site at elaineviets.com. Please e-mail me at
Prologue.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012.
”Joshcy.” The man's voice was followed by a crunch like a roof caving in. ”Hwcjsh wejing ghocinng?”
Josie Marcus was pretty sure she wasn't getting an obscene phone call at nine in the morning. Then the man added a wet slurp, followed by another ma.s.sive crunch. What was he doing with that phone?
”Excuse me?” Josie asked. ”Who is this?”
The gulps sounded like a boa constrictor swallowing a whole pig, followed by juicy smacking. ”That was good,” he said.
Now Josie recognized the caller-Harry the Horrible, her boss at Suttin Services. Josie mystery-shopped for the company's St. Louis office.
Harry repeated his question. ”I asked how's the wedding going? You and Dr. Ted ready to tie the knot?”
”Almost. It's five weeks away,” Josie said. ”What are you eating?”
”A deep-fried cheeseburger.” Satisfaction oozed from Harry's voice. Even Josie's phone seemed greasy. She wanted to wipe it down. She wanted to wipe out the picture of Harry forming in her mind. Her boss had a thick brown pelt all over his body-at least the parts Josie had had the misfortune to see. Harry had hair on his flabby arms, fish-belly ankles, and stubby hands. Hair peeked through his straining s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons, but so far Josie had been spared the full view of his chest.
Only Harry's dome was follicle free. Mother Nature had compensated by giving him a luxuriant unibrow.
”Thanks for your wedding invitation,” Harry said. ”I can't come, but I got you a present. Wait till you hear what it is.”
”You're going to tell me before I unwrap it?” Josie asked.
”You don't have to unwrap this gift,” Harry said. ”It's your latest mystery-shopping a.s.signment. I want you to shop wedding flowers and wedding cakes for a St. Louis wedding Web site. You can go as yourself-a bride shopping for her wedding.”
He paused dramatically, like a game show host announcing a gigantic prize.
Harry's serious, Josie thought. He really is giving me a good a.s.signment as a present. Well, it is a gift. Working for Harry has been awkward since I reported that surly sales a.s.sistant. I didn't realize Saber was his niece. She deserved to get fired.
Since then, Harry had given Josie nothing but bad a.s.signments. She even had to mystery-shop pig ear sandwiches-and eat one.
Niece or no niece, Josie lived by her code. Her mission was to protect Mrs. Minivan, her name for the backbone of America's shoppers. Mrs. Minivan was overlooked, ignored, and disrespected. Josie fought to right those wrongs against the average shopper.
”You want me to mystery-shop wedding flowers,” Josie said. ”Do you mean all the flowers-the bouquets and boutonnieres, church flowers, and reception centerpieces?”
”Naw, just the whatchamacallits for the reception,” he said. ”The centerpieces. That's why this a.s.signment is a gift. It's easy.”
It would be easy, Josie thought. She'd spent hours deciding whether her bridesmaids should carry bouquets or wear wrist corsages. International trade treaties were signed after less debate.
She'd take this gift-and hope Harry's anger had finally cooled.
”I'll do it,” Josie said.