Praise for the Candy Holliday Murder Mysteries
“[A] winning combination of good food and endearing characters.”
—Sheila Connolly, New York Times bestselling author
“Haywood has again created a cliff-hanger that will have readers hanging on while waiting for the next installment.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Haywood’s prose is artful and fun, her narrative style is engaging, and the two central mysteries . . . are clever, complex, and connect quite seamlessly. The story is perfectly paced, with twists, clues, confrontations, and red herrings dropped in all the right places, and Haywood manages to keep the reader guessing until the very end.”
—The Maine Suspect
“An interesting cast of characters in a quaint Maine town. It’s not Cabot Cove, and thank God for that. Candy Holliday is an intriguing new sleuth in the lighthearted mystery genre.”
—Bangor (ME) Daily News
“Good pacing, clever plotting, and a surprise ending will leave readers thoroughly satisfied.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
“Enjoy Maine with less cold and far fewer black flies and a dash of intrigue and danger.”
—Gumshoe Review
Berkley Prime Crime titles by B. B. Haywood
TOWN IN A BLUEBERRY JAM
TOWN IN A LOBSTER STEW
TOWN IN A WILD MOOSE CHASE
TOWN IN A PUMPKIN BASH
TOWN IN A STRAWBERRY SWIRL
TOWN IN A SWEET PICKLE
TOWN IN A CINNAMON TOAST
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
TOWN IN A CINNAMON TOAST
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2016 by Robert R. Feeman and Beth Ann Feeman.
Excerpt from Town in a Blueberry Jam by B. B. Haywood copyright © 2010 by Robert R. Feeman and Beth Ann Feeman.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
For more information, visit penguin.com.
eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18420-6
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / February 2016
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
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.
Version_1
This one is for the fans, and for the many dedicated bloggers who provide invaluable support to cozy mystery books and their writers
Contents
Praise for the Candy Holliday Murder Mysteries
Berkley Prime Crime titles by B. B. Haywood
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Recipes
Character List
Excerpt from Town In A Blueberry Jam
PROLOGUE
It was a tragedy, he thought, a terrible tragedy.
He’d been so looking forward to the wedding, and regretted that he’d miss it. But he’d never make it now, because he was dying.
At least he was wearing his favorite cardigan, and that gave him some small comfort in the final moments of his existence.
At one time the cardigan had been light blue in color, but over the years it faded to a pleasant silvery gray. Down the front, a trio of worn bone buttons were usually hitched into their corresponding buttonholes—he’d always prided himself on the neatness of his appearance—but he’d neglected to fasten them over the past few days, leaving the sweater open, revealing a wrinkled shirt underneath. He’d also forgotten to comb his hair, shave his whiskers, and clean his shoes, which were often untied as well, all because of his preoccupation with another matter.
That “other matter” had brought him to this point, he thought fleetingly as the last few sparks in his brain began to extinguish. He’d acted too carelessly, misplaced his suspicions, and unleashed a force he had never seen coming.
Now he was paying the ultimate price. He’d triggered an unexpected attack, which led to his untimely demise here in this place he loved so dearly.
It was all because of the land deeds, and what he’d found out about them.
The deeds.
He wished they had never come to him, those yellowed, crinkly old documents, though the historian in him had initially leapt at the chance to study them. But they’d turned out to be more trouble than they were ever worth—and they could be worth a lot if they fell into the wrong hands. That’s what he’d been trying to prevent, but he had failed.
They had also led to his other discovery, a dark, dangerous, largely forgotten place.
Foul Mouth.
It was an ominous-sounding name, one he had puzzled over when he first saw it in the pages of the deeds. He’d only recently confirmed its existence through his discreet inquiries, and had planned further investigation. But someone had beaten him to it. Someone had already been over there, sneaking around, digging into the past. He’d watched it happen through the binoculars, and had intended to reveal what he knew. But he’d waited too long. And that, in the end, had been his undoing.
Now he’d never have a chance to warn others about his misgiving
s.
At least, in his growing concern for his safety, he’d taken the time to leave behind a few clues hidden in the books, identifiable only to a particularly curious eye.
But in doing so, had he endangered someone else?
That ragged thought—or perhaps it was just the devastating blow he’d received—sent a startling chill through him as his eyes began to glaze over and his breath rattled in his throat.
He only hoped the message he’d left behind wasn’t too obscure, too difficult to decipher. He’d debated the matter until the very end, but decided there was no other way. He hadn’t been certain whom he could trust. There were spying eyes all around. He’d had no choice but to hide the clues from those who might be searching for them. He only hoped they’d do what he intended.
And he’d taken two additional precautions, passing the copies to his friend, and making a call this afternoon. In hindsight those had been good decisions. But he hadn’t had time to follow up on them. Now he never would.
In the last few thumps of his heart, he recalled the attack, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. He knew it hadn’t been planned; it had happened in the heat of the moment. Neither of them had expected it would end the way it did.
One of the final images burned into his mind was of the blurred shoes of his attacker. They’d looked uncommonly large and misshapen when viewed from this odd, low angle. As the shoes retreated, headed back the way they’d come, down the stairs and out of the building, he thought he’d heard someone speak, perhaps directly to him. He thought the person said sorry. But ultimately it had just been an indistinct rumble in his ears.
He’d also heard that loud thud, as if an object of some weight had dropped to the floor nearby. Out of sight, it had bounced once or twice and rolled a little before settling. He had felt the heavy vibrations through the rough wood upon which his left cheek, and his entire body, had come to rest.
Now he was alone. He wanted to shift his head around so he could see what had fallen nearby, but his body wouldn’t respond to his mental commands. Instead, the effort brought up an unfamiliar cold that coursed through him, along with a pain so sharp it would have made him wince and cry out, if he could achieve such actions.
The creak of the door downstairs should have alerted him. The brush of footsteps on the stairs, the flicker of light above the second-floor landing, the strange silence that followed, as if a ghost were approaching. The odd, awkward conversation, the tensions rising. Perhaps he could have protected himself better, fought back more. But he was too old and frail, and he’d never seen the attack coming. It had been too unexpected, too swift, and in the end, too overpowering.
But it made no matter now. It was over. He knew that, and accepted it. He had no regrets. He’d lived a long time, accomplished all he’d set out to do, and then some. He couldn’t complain about anything that had happened to him over his long life—or even in the last few moments of it.
He would have liked to have seen this whole matter through to the end, to make sure it turned out properly—to protect his village and perhaps a life or two, including his own.
But it was all slipping away. . . .
Now someone else would have to pick up the baton of inquiry and investigation and carry it through to its conclusion. Someone who would follow the trail he’d followed and finish what he’d started. Someone who would see the danger he saw, decipher the clues, alert the right people, and stop the chaos he believed was about to happen.
Someone like Candy Holliday.
That gave him some small comfort as he wheezed out his last breath—that, and his favorite once-blue sweater, gathered so comfortably around his body, fighting back against the unrelenting cold that finally, inexorably, engulfed him in its icy embrace.
From the Cape Crier
Cape Willington, Maine
May 6th Edition
THE CAPE CRUSADER
by Wanda Boyle
Managing Editor
LOVE IS IN THE AIR!
Calling all romantics! Along with May flowers come wedding showers, and we have a big one coming up this month. Our own lovebirds and bakers extraordinaire, the gifted Herr Georg Wolfsburger and his delightful fiancée, Maggie Tremont, are finally tying the knot after a long engagement (and it’s “knot” the kind you’ll find on those scrumptious Bavarian pretzels they sell in their shop, the Black Forest Bakery on Main Street!). As we’ve discussed endlessly in this column, the afternoon wedding ceremony, with the Reverend James P. Daisy presiding, will take place at Holliday’s Blueberry Acres on Saturday, May 14th, with the Boyle family in attendance (I practically had to steal an invitation, but that’s another story!). I’ll be among the forty or so wedding guests (that’s all they can fit in the barn!), and I have it on good authority from new wedding planners Ralph Henry and Malcolm Stevens Randolph that the bucolic (and hopefully well-cleaned!) venue will be positively transformed for the event! Expect photos and tweets galore, plus a full report in the May 20th edition!
MYSTERY BUYER SCOOPS UP WHITBY ESTATE
In a surprise announcement, the Whitby family, previous owners of the Lightkeeper’s Inn here in the village, have sold their family estate across the bay, on Whitby Point. The house and property, which reportedly encompass some dozen acres on prime oceanfront land, has been in the family’s hands for several generations, although we have it on good authority that the place has fallen into disrepair over the past few years. No word yet on the identity of the buyer, though we’re told it’s someone with close ties to the community. Who could it be? We’ve got our money on Martha Stewart! Who do you think bought the place? Sound off, Capers, and as always, send your scoops and latest tidbits to us, so we can report it to the world!
SPRING HAS FINALLY SPRUNG
After some iffy (and at times drenching!) weather through April, spring has finally arrived here in our little corner of Down East Maine. Yay!!! Activities around town are gearing up as we prepare for the busy summer season just ahead, which kicks off on Memorial Day weekend. That’s just THREE WEEKS AWAY, folks! (Let me repeat that: THREE. WEEKS. AWAY! Okay, you’ve been properly warned.) You’ll find a list of shop and restaurant opening dates on page 11 of this issue. This is my second-favorite time of year,* when we plant our gardens and clean out that old stuff from our garages. Time for love, and time for fun in the sun. So get ready—summer is almost here! And before you break out the gardening shovel or tiller, be sure to check out columnist Candy Holliday’s gardening tips later in this issue.
A PLUCKY TALENT
Speaking of summer, be on the lookout this season for Sumner, one of the village’s newest and most innovative talents. Local artisan Sumner Kent must have music in his artistic soul, because he’s crafting beautiful jewelry out of used guitar strings and glass beads! Yes, you read that right! He got the idea for the jewelry when he kept breaking strings on his guitar, and they got caught around his wrists and ankles. Clearly not a seasoned musician, he turned his klutz into craft (a talent I can wholeheartedly admire!). The finished creations practically strum themselves (just don’t let Sumner do it!). I’m wearing one of his guitar-string ankle bracelets as we speak, and I must say it rivals Tiffany’s! (Well, almost.) It has me singing a happy song.
RUN FOR THE ROSES . . .
No, wait, we mean for the geraniums! Next year’s graduating class at Cape Willington High School will sponsor a “Run for the Geraniums” race to raise funds for the 2017 prom and graduation season. A truckload of beautiful potted geraniums will arrive at Town Park at 1 P.M. on Saturday, May 21st. Members of the Class of 2017 will then run through town carrying a geranium or two and meet up at the high school gym. The geraniums will then be set out on tables, where they will await eager buyers! That’s you! So hurry on down, support a great cause, and take home a beautiful blooming plant for the season. For more information, call or e-mail the high school.
THE BIRDS ARE COMING! THE BIRDS ARE COMING!
Some, like most sparrows, are already here, with yellowthroats, American redstarts, magnolia warblers, and rose-breasted grosbeaks right on their heels. (Note to self: Do birds have heels?) To help you keep up with all the latest ornithological news as the annual spring migration comes to a rustling crescendo, join local birder Jody Dumont of the Down East Audubon Society at the Pruitt Public Library on Sunday, May 15th at 2 P.M. During her presentation, she’ll discuss spring migration paths of Maine birds. Light refreshments will be served afterward, so you can even eat like a bird. Jody promises not to ruffle your feathers, and instead will leave you chirping with delight!
TASTY TIDBITS
Who doesn’t love growing ornamental grasses in their gardens? Or growing bounties of berries in a small fruit garden? You can learn about both during two workshops to be held at Hatch’s Garden Center on Saturday and Sunday, May 28th and 29th. Both workshops are open to the public, whether you’re a beginning or advanced gardener. Space is limited, so grab your trowels (your phone would work too) and reserve a spot today! . . . Speaking of nature, everyone in town knows that local landscaper Mick Rilke is a force of nature himself! (The type that makes you want to head inside when you see him coming!) Mick has been spotted with his hands in more than one flowerpot this spring, and the season has barely begun. Good thing there’s more than one gray pickup truck in town! . . . Jeff Hall and Betsy Frost are taking charge of the community bulletin board outside Zeke’s General Store on Main Street. Jeff lovingly repainted the trim, and the two of them set to work to organize the mess. They sorted through piles of faded business cards, announcements, and torn posters from events long past. Now the board is all cleaned up, and there are new posting rules. Here are just a few:
No posting anything on the wood trim. Stay within the confines of the corkboard, folks!
No more gigantic posters that take up all the room! Smaller is often better!
Keep the business cards with the business cards, posters with posters, etc., etc., blah blah.
Town in a Cinnamon Toast Page 1
