Killer Crab Cakes

Table of Contents

 

 

 

From what Phyllis could see of McKenna’s face, the man didn’t look good. He hadn’t been under the water all that long, probably less than a minute in all. A person couldn’t drown in that short a time, could they?

Phyllis got to the end of the pier and jumped down to the narrow, reedy beach. She dropped Sam’s sneakers and waded into the water, heedless of her own shoes and blue jeans, and leaned down to grab McKenna and help Sam haul him out of the water. A shudder went through her as she saw the man’s gray, lifeless face.

“My God, Sam!” she said as he climbed out. Water streamed from his clothes and body. “Mr. McKenna’s dead. He must have drowned right away.”

Sam pawed his soaked hair back and shook his head. “Nobody drowns that fast. Did you see the way he went in? He was just balanced there on the wall, waiting for somebody like me to come along and knock him in.”

“You mean . . . ?”

Sam nodded. “He was dead when he went into the water.”

MORE PRAISE FOR THE FRESH-BAKED MYSTERIES

“The whodunit is fun and the recipes [are] mouthwatering.”

—The Best Reviews

“Washburn has a refreshing way with words and knows how to tell an exciting story.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“Delightful, [with a] realistic small town vibe [and a] vibrant narrative . . .
A Peach of a Murder
runs the full range of emotions, so be prepared to laugh and cry with this one!”

—The Romance Readers Connection

“I really enjoyed
Murder by the Slice. . . .
It’s got a nice plot with lots of twists.”

—James Reasoner

Other Fresh-Baked Mysteries by Livia J. Washburn

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First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, November 2009

Copyright © Livia J. Reasoner, 2009

All rights reserved

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Washburn, L. J.

Killer crab cakes : a fresh-baked mystery / Livia J. Washburn.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-14046-8

1. Retired women—Fiction. 2. Bed-and-breakfast accommodations—Fiction.
3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Gulf Coast (Tex.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3573.A787K56 2009
813’54—dc22
2009018948

 

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverce reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

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T
his book is dedicated to all the people who helped us recover from a devastating wildfire. Family members that went above and beyond, Paul and Naomi Washburn, Bruce and Patricia Washburn, Harold and Jodie Reasoner, John and Norma Kinchen, Eric and Jennifer Washburn, Billy and Amanda Gann, Nina Henderson, Elmo and Billie Wright, Ricky Wright, Gayle Rotton, Sidney and Wanda Brantly, Mike and Sabra Torok, you will never know how much your help meant. We would have been lost without all of you. And to all the rest who offered prayers and words of encouragement, thank you so much. I would also like to thank all our friends and neighbors for being there for us. There are so many who helped that to list them all would take another whole book! To everyone who sent us books to replace our lost library, thank you! Kim Lionetti, you are the best agent out there. Thanks! Brent Howard, I’m lucky you are my editor and thank you for being so understanding. The fire was terrible, but it taught us how many good people there really are in the world. Thank you for all your love and support.

A
n early-morning calm lay over the water, broken only by the plaintive cries of seagulls as they wheeled over the glassy surface. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but a half circle of pink and orange glow was visible at the horizon, far out over the Gulf of Mexico, as Phyllis Newsom stepped out onto the porch of the old three-story house that faced the sea. Only rarely had she ever seen anything more beautiful, Phyllis thought as she raised a cup to her lips and took a sip of coffee.

Nor was there anything more restful and peaceful than these moments just before sunrise. She would never wish ill on anyone, but right now she was almost glad that there had been complications with the birth of her cousin Dorothy’s first grandchild. If Dorothy and her husband hadn’t had to go up to Dallas to be with their daughter, they wouldn’t have asked Phyllis to come down here to Fulton, Texas, and look after their bed-and-breakfast for a while. Mother and baby were doing just fine now, but Phyllis suspected that Dorothy would want to stay up there and play proud grandma for as long as she possibly could.

The door behind Phyllis opened. She knew without looking around that Sam Fletcher had come out onto the porch. He liked these early mornings, too. Phyllis’s other two friends who had come down here with her from Weatherford, Carolyn Wilbarger and Eve Turner, were still inside the house. All four of them were retired schoolteachers, so they were used to getting up fairly early after decades of having to arrive at school before the students did. Since retirement, though, Eve had taken to sleeping in, and Carolyn had never been much of one for the glories of nature. She was probably in the kitchen by now, interfering with Consuela’s attempts to fix breakfast.

“We’ve been down here three days now,” Sam said as he moved up beside Phyllis, a cup of coffee in his hand, too, “and I’m not tired of that view yet. I wonder if the people who live here ever get tired of it.”