Read Killer Breakfast Specials (A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery Book 2) Online
Authors: Molly Dox
Killer Breakfast Specials (A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery Book 2)
Killer Breakfast Specials
A Sage & Dash Cozy Mystery
Molly Dox
Copyright 2016 Molly Dox
Cozy Kiss Publisling
Join my newsletter and get two free reads!
Did you know that just by signing up for my mailing list, you’ll get two free ebooks from me? It’s as simple as joining my newsletter. In your confirmation email, there will be a link where you can download your two ebooks in various formats (MOBI, ePUB, or PDF). Sign up today, and start reading more cozy mysteries on me!
Killer Breakfast Specials
After one of Rosie's muffins becomes the focus of attention at the Hickory Creek Nursing Facility, things aren't smelling so sweet. Rosie and Libby are forced to start looking for answers before their bacon is cooked and they’re thrown in jail for a murder they didn’t commit.
With the scent of death in the air, and their reputation on the line, it’s time to get serious. But, there may be more to this puzzle than they first thought. Can the women of The Breakfast Nook crack this case? Or will they always be known for their “killer” breakfast specials?
Contents
Rosie Sage sent Coral Blossom on her way with a bag full of goodies. She’d made a couple extra batches of blueberry muffins to send to the nursing home as a special treat. They were looking at ways to tie the community together with a sign of good will, and looking to grow bonds. The small town had once been busy and thriving, but lean times and less businesses meant they had to stick together.
Coral opened the bag and took a deep breath. “They smell great, Rosie. Thanks again for thinking of the residents.”
“I’m glad I can do something to spread a little cheer. Besides, half of the staff of Hickory Creek finds their way in here at one time or another. I’ll send a box of cupcakes over later this week as a thanks to the employees.”
“You’re a dear,” Coral answered, and then headed out to her car. She’d already taken a trip to her car to place a couple of bags with Rosie’s help. The residents would love the extra treats.
***
Coral’s white nursing shoes squeaked on the freshly-bleached, tiled floors. As she made her way down one of the side wings, she heard Mrs. Masters yelling at her son.
“I know what you did,” she shouted, her voice accusing him of the worst. “You won’t get away with it.”
As Coral rounded the corner, she saw poor, sweet Mr. Jones scowling at the woman. She was convinced he was her son, Owen. It didn’t matter that Mr. Jones told her otherwise.
“Mrs. Masters,” Coral interrupted. “This is Mr. Jones. Your son will be here later. You’re in the wrong room again, dear. Let me take you back.”
The look of relief on Mr. Jones’s face said it all.
Once the nurse had escorted the angry woman back to her own space, Coral made her way to see Mr. Jones. She held up a bag and smiled. “I’ve got something special for you here.”
Mr. Jones sat up taller. “What is it?”
“A freshly baked muffin from The Nook. It’s blueberry, your favorite.” She took the muffin and napkin out of the bag and placed it on the patient’s rolling table. She slid it closer so it was easier for him to reach. “How are you this fine morning?”
He was always such a pleasant, happy man, even in his condition. A smile slipped over his eighty-year-old lips. “I’m doing okay, Coral. You sure are looking fine today. If I was forty or fifty years younger…”
“I’d be the first in line,” she answered with a smile. “I’ve got a few more people to share with. I’ll check on you later. Enjoy your treat.”
“I certainly will,” he answered with a mouth full of muffin.
Libby Sage slid a tray of cookies into the oven. Freshly baked goods were always a hit at The Breakfast Nook, commonly referred to by locals as The Nook. The kitchen smelled like a grandmother’s kitchen on a Sunday afternoon, full of goodness and sweets.
A few of the locals were there for lunch, and the gossip was lively.
Alyssa was saying her good-byes. She’d gotten a job in Florida. Her relocation would kick in shortly, now that her body had healed from the accident. A new person at the post office was like a knife in Rosie’s heart. It was hard to see her best friend move away, but Alyssa needed change.
Patsy and Viola were rambling on about knitting, cards, and the latest Game of Thrones twist. Still planning their retirement, they were pretty sure Arizona was where they’d end up. Their husbands might have other plans, but the women figured there was plenty of time to convince them that the western state would be a perfect place to settle.
***
When the news came in, everybody stopped what they were doing.
There was an untimely death at the Hickory Creek Nursing Facility, the local nursing home. Of course, Myrtle was the one to bring the news. Gloria wasn’t far behind.
“Mr. Jones, sure he was old, but he wasn’t ready to kick the bucket,” she started, always so tactful. “I mean, that man is dead as a doornail, and he’s not coming back. Eighty-years old, rest his soul. We all only have so much time on this planet, but there are whispers that this wasn’t due to his advanced age. He was in there for physical rehabilitation after a couple of falls. Balance issues, not heart issues. So, you tell me, how does the man up and croak?” Myrtle caught her breath and settled into her favorite seat.
Gloria took over where Myrtle left off. “And, there’s word that his daughters are screaming for an autopsy. I mean, really, the man wasn’t there to buy time, but he bought the farm and all the livestock that went with it.”
“I was just there this morning. How odd. Oh, my mother was a peach today,” he added sarcastically. Owen Masters turned to face the others, twisting on the counter stool. “In fact, I saw one of his daughters while I was there. Well, one of the twins. I can never really tell them apart to this day. The place reeked of perfume. I’m not sure what scent it was, but the cloud I was forced to walk through left me gasping for air. That woman has a heavy hand when it comes to using her fragrance.”
Libby nudged for more information.
“Myrtle, what else did you hear?” She wanted to ask what her source was, but she knew that was pointless. Myrtle rarely gave that information out.
“Not a lot on this one, but it seemed like he was perfectly fine the first time the nurse went in to see him, then the second, not so much,” she finished.
Ray Shaylon, the local FED-UPX driver, paid his tab and excused himself. “I better get back on the road. Another batch of packages to deliver.”
Patsy whispered to Viola and glanced over at the other women.
Rosie wiped the counter down and cleaned up the dishes from where Ray sat. What could have happened? On the other hand, he was eighty. It was odd there was such a racket over an old man passing, when he was well up in age. Yet, somehow this was different. She wished she knew more details, especially knowing that she’d sent a batch of her muffins over to the nursing home earlier.
Rosie excused herself and made her way through the swinging door to the kitchen. She pressed against the cold stainless steel prep table and slowly went through the list of ingredients she’d used. No, she was good. There was no correlation. Besides, it’s not like he choked on it, and she couldn’t be sure if he was even one of the patients who was given a muffin. He didn’t have a blueberry allergy, did he?
The timing left her jittery though, she’d just started the donation earlier in the month. The last thing she needed was her name tied to another scary situation. After another man dropped dead in her restaurant – well, at least she was found innocent. That was a relief. She was probably just over reacting. Still cagey from Peyton Darling’s death. The entire ordeal had left her on edge. Just when things seemed to be getting back to normal, another death.
That’s ridiculous. It’s an old man in a nursing home. It’s going to be due to natural causes. You’re getting carried away. The idea of any more news tied to The Nook would surely put her out of business.
When Gary Snyder showed up at The Nook, Libby was less than thrilled. She’d never done well in his company. The two stubborn fools butted heads like charging rams. Oil and water got along better than Gary and Libby.
Gary smoothed his hair, combing it to the side five or six times, a habit he rarely noticed anymore. Others did, but he was oblivious to the nervous action.
When Mr. Jones died, there was cause for concern. His daughters were up in arms, screaming for an autopsy. With both of them in his face, it was hard to ignore them. They had a way of getting under your skin, pushy and rude, then sweet as sugar the next, trying to smooth things over.
It’s not that Gary thought Libby or Rosie had anything to do with the crime, but the chance to inconvenience Libby was well worth his time.
Twyla and Lila Jones were identical twins, locksmiths, and born only a few minutes apart. They were always side-by-side, for years, until their mother’s passing. Sometime after that, they had a spat and went their own way – until now. With the death of their father, they reunited to resolve matters.
Their dear father was merely eighty and in fine health. This was preposterous! No way, no how should he have met his maker so soon. They were going to sue. Sue his doctors, sue his nurses, sue the nursing home for not taking better care of their dad.
Gary leaned up against the counter. “Libby, you better call Rosie out here. We’ve got a situation.”
“Oh, Gary, what now? We have a business to run.”
“And I have a town to run,” he snapped back.
Libby groaned and sighed heavily. “Fine.” She went in search of her daughter.
Rosie wasn’t in the kitchen. After checking the back, she found her daughter in their attached home. Libby’s tone was flat, showing her lack of enthusiasm. “Sheriff Snyder is here.”
Rosie was petting their cat, Dash. “What does he want?”
“Your attention and mine, no doubt. Can’t get enough of us.”
“Okay,” she said. “I just snuck over here to give Dash a treat anyway.”
Dash mewed and rubbed against Rosie’s leg looking for more loving.
“Later, buddy. I need to head back to work,” Rosie said. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you something good when we close up shop.”
“You spoil that cat,” Libby warned.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said and walked past her mother.
Together the women re-entered the restaurant side of the building.
“Well, well, there you are,” Sheriff Snyder started. “I wouldn’t go getting lost now. Seems you women are always a part of things when something happens.”
Rosie cocked her head. “What are you talking about?”
“I went to the nursing home this morning after Twyla and Lila Jones came to the station, and asked that I investigate. Wouldn’t you know, when I asked what he’d eaten and what he’d done prior to passing, a special treat had been consumed. Do you know where that special treat came from?” He droned on longer than he needed, but loved being dramatic. Gary Snyder combed his hair to the side five or six times, and then kept talking. “That’s right, you guessed it. But of course, you’d know, since you’re the one that sent the goodies over. Free too, how kind and generous of you.”
Rosie watched Gary talk. He did this weird thing with his lips. It was almost awkward to watch him speak. She cleared her throat and cut in. “First off, I sent a batch over. How was I to know who would get which muffin. So it’s not like I could coordinate that. And secondly, the muffins were perfectly safe. I didn’t do anything to cause this.”
“We’ll see. We’ll see. We’re running a toxicology report and the truth will come out. I’d suggest you women stay put until we get all the details. No leaving town.” He glared at Libby, who was desperately trying to hold her tongue. She’d already gotten in enough trouble around Gary and she didn’t need anymore. “I’d be more than happy to lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Get out of here,” Libby barked. “Until you have a reason to charge us with a crime, which you won’t, I refuse to listen to this garbage. This is harassment you know.”
Sheriff Snyder sneered at Libby. “Make sure you don’t interfere in the investigation. I know how you two like to rub your nose in places where they don’t belong. One wrong turn, and you’ll hear that prison door slam. Good day, ladies.”
Rosie looked at her mother, silently pleading with her not to fight with the sheriff. Just this time, Libby obliged.