Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 by Tamra Baumann (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📗

for a few moments. “The only thing anyone saw Emily do was swap the color of roses, right? Because she liked the purple ones? Which has nothing to do with Tina.”

“Yeah. Frank came along and switched it one more time, so things ended up the way they did. Besides, how would someone hurt anyone with roses?”

“True.” Madge hums in agreement. “I can’t see any connection with Emily. But speaking of affairs, have you talked to your Aunt Carol yet?”

I sit on the porch swing and give a kick to set it in motion. “Didn’t have to. Turns out Woo-Woo Beth told her. But don’t spread that around and ruin my aunt’s element of surprise when she sticks it to my uncle.”

Madge laughs. “That is one secret I’m happy to keep. I wish I could be a fly on the wall and see Frank’s face when he finds out Carol beat him to the punch.” Madge stops laughing. “But wait. If Carol knows, that gives her motive, doesn’t it?”

I wasn’t going to say anything about that, but Madge is astute. “She wasn’t at the talent show or the diner. I asked my dad.”

“I think Dylan should know, though, don’t you?”

“I guess.” I wanted to avoid that, but it’s probably the right thing to do. “Tell him to talk to Beth to confirm.”

“Will do. I’ll call him now. You doing okay? You sound sad.”

I am sad. “I’m okay. I’ll be better when my dad’s off the suspect list.”

“Gotcha. We’ll keep working on that. Talk soon.”

“Bye.” I disconnect and close my eyes. It’s been a long day.

“Hey, stranger,” Renee’s voice calls out.

I open my eyes and force a smile. “Hey, back. What’s up?” I pat the seat next to me on the swing.

Renee sits and hands me a hot fudge sundae. “Heard you’re having a bad day.”

I nod as I accept the treat. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Renee sighs. “I overheard Gage and your uncle yelling on the phone. Gage called him a few choice names.”

“Good for Gage.” I take a bite of the warm fudge and cool vanilla ice cream. The joyful flavors make me moan with pleasure. After a moment of bliss, I add, “But I doubt it’ll help. Uncle Frank has no conscience.”

“Apparently not. If you need a place to stay, my guest room is all yours.”

The phone call must’ve been worse than I think. “Am I getting kicked out right away?”

Renee cringes. “When I left, Gage was trying to get you ten days.”

“Ten days?” I sit up and set my treat down. “Geez. That’ll be right before Thanksgiving!”

“That’s what Gage said. Your uncle said it was better than right before Christmas.”

The man has no heart. I’d hoped I could at least keep the house I grew up in. “I appreciate the offer, but you and Gage need your space. I’ll figure something out.” What, I’m not sure. I don’t want to intrude on their new relationship.

Renee sets the swing in motion again. “You still have most of the money from the wine your mom left you, right?”

I nod as I swallow. “And Gage said I might have a claim to some of the cash, especially if my uncle takes away all the real estate.”

“Then there’s that.” Renee smiles weakly. “We really need to figure out a way to start up your new restaurant. This town needs a decent place to eat.”

“It does.” I scrape the bottom of my cup. I hadn’t realized I’d wolfed it so quickly. “But for now, I’m going to tackle one problem at a time—mainly getting my dad off the hook. Makes things seem less overwhelming that way.”

“Yep.” Renee stands. “You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. Maybe too good.” She starts down the steps, but stops midway and turns. “Dylan is in one of those compartments. Maybe it’s time to let him out of that cubicle.”

I stand and move to the rail. “I won’t be rushed because I need a place to live. He deserves better than that.”

“He does.” Renee smiles. “But he can’t hurt you when he’s tucked away in a box. It’s time to open that compartment before it’s too late.” She lifts a hand and keeps walking. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Take care.”

“Thanks. You too.” I let her words sink in while she strolls down the street with her long strides.

Maybe she’s right. I’m going to have to make some big decisions sooner than I thought, apparently. But seriously? My uncle is going to kick me out of my house before the holidays?

Not if I can prove he killed Tina first.

I shake my head and open the front door. An emergency book club meeting in the morning might just do the trick!

Once inside, I head for the kitchen and find it empty and dark. Whenever I’m upset, I like to bake, so I pull out my phone and search for a new recipe. I want to make something I’ve never made before, so I’ll force my brain to stay focused on the task and not think about my troubles. Sometimes when I completely distract myself, answers come. I hope this is one of those times.

I settle on a recipe by a famous chef who claims to make the best chocolate chip cookies on earth. Gooey in the middle and perfectly crispy on the edges. Seems millions agree in the comments, so we’ll see for ourselves.

As I peruse the recipe, a few things stand out. First, the recipe calls for both cake flour and bread flour. Second, it has to be refrigerated for at least twenty-four hours before baking. Shoot. I was in the mood for more dessert tonight.

Fine. Maybe by the time I make the cookies tomorrow night, we’ll have found our killer.

Just as I finish lining up all my ingredients, the doorbell rings. No one is stirring upstairs, so I make my way to the foyer and open the door.

On my porch stands a smug giant of a man. “Hi, Uncle Frank. Come in.” I step aside, resigned to the inevitable conversation.

He