by Avery Aames
Clobbered by Camembert
( Cheese Shop Mystery - 3 )
Avery Aames
Cheese store owner Charlotte Bessette is setting up for the town's Winter Wonderland fair. Then, when an old friend is found dead in the cottage of Charlotte's assistant Rebecca, a suspicion falls on Rebecca's boyfriend, a honeybee farmer. While the town buzzes with gossip, can Charlotte catch the culprit without getting stung herself?
From the Author
Say Cheese!
PRAISE FOR
THE CHEESE SHOP MYSTERIES
Clobbered by Camembert
“Avery Aames delivers another deliciously fast-paced, twisty mystery filled with lovable, quirky characters and Charlotte’s delightful attempts at amateur sleuthing. Come sample what Fromagerie Bessette has to offer. I guarantee you’ll be back for more.”
—Julie Hyzy, national bestselling author of the White House Chef Mysteries and the Manor House Mysteries
Lost and Fondue
“Avery Aames has cooked up a delectable culinary mystery with a juicy plot and a tasty twist. Lost and Fondue is fun, flirty, and full of local flavor. Take an engaging, sassy protagonist willing to do anything for friends and family, add a delicious yet mysterious hero, mix in a yummy setting, top it all with a scrumptious plot with enough twists and turns to keep you guessing to the very end—and voilà! A tasty morsel of a mystery that will leave you hungry for more.”
—Kate Carlisle, national bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries
The Long Quiche Goodbye
Agatha Award Nominee for Best First Novel
“[A] delightful debut novel.”
—Lorna Barrett, New York Times bestselling author
“A delicious read. Charlotte Bessette is a winning new sleuth, and her gorgeously drawn world is one you’ll want to revisit again and again. More please.”
—Cleo Coyle, national bestselling author of the Coffeehouse Mysteries
“Rich characters, decadent cheeses, and a scrumptious mystery. A bold new series to be savored like a seductive Brie.”
—Krista Davis, author of the Domestic Diva Mysteries
“Avery Aames serves up a yummy mystery featuring cheese purveyor Charlotte Bessette, an adorable new character whose love of family rivals her love of good food. Fans of amateur sleuths, prepare to be charmed.”
—Joanna Campbell Slan, author of the Agatha Award–nominated Paper, Scissors, Death
“Absolutely delicious! This is the triple cream of the crop: a charming heroine, a deceptively cozy little town, and a clever cast of characters. This is more than a fresh and original mystery—Aames’s compassion for family and friends shines through, bringing intelligence and depth to this warm and richly rewarding adventure.”
—Hank Phillippi Ryan, Agatha Award–winning author of Drive Time
“The charm of the story is greatly enhanced by a very rich cast of characters.”
—Booklist
“A fantastic read, this cozy was truly a special treat.”
—Romantic Times
“Not since Agatha Christie has a female author created an amateur sleuth with a penchant for details.”
—Suspense Magazine
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Avery Aames
THE LONG QUICHE GOODBYE
LOST AND FONDUE
CLOBBERED BY CAMEMBER™
Clobbered by
Camembert
AVERY AAMES
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Copyright © 2012 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
To my husband, Chuck.
You are the love of my life.
Thank you for your endless support
and your sense of humor.
And most of all, thank you for
encouraging me to believe in my dreams.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my husband for love and encouragement, and to the rest of my family for the same. I am so very, very blessed.
Thank you to the wonderful world of authors, both mystery and otherwise, who have offered their support, their opinions, and their wisdom. Thank you to my fabulous critique partners Krista Davis and Janet Bolin, both talented and successful writers in their own right. I don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you to my culinary mystery blog mates at Mystery Lovers Kitchen for all the delicious recipes and foodie brilliance. Thanks to my blog mates at Killer Characters and to my pals at Cozy Promo, Plot Hatchers, and to all the Sisters in Crime guppies. Without you, I would have given up long ago.
Thank you to my publisher, Berkley Prime Crime, for wanting books about a cheese shop and for granting me the opportunity. Thank you to Kate Seaver, you are a dream editor. I am so lucky. And thanks to the rest of the Berkley team: Katherine Pelz, Kaitlyn Kennedy, Teresa Fasolino, Annette Fiore Defex, and Laura K. Corless. What a beautiful product you have turned out. {Beautiful in my eyes, certainly.}
Thank you to the support team of my sister, Kimberley, as well as Dana Kaye and Lindsey LeBret. Wow, is all I can say. Thank you to my agents, Bookends, specifically Kim Lionetti, for your enthusiasm. Thank you to the newest member of my “team,” Marcella Wright, who is living her dream job with Murray’s Cheese Shop, and to Marcella’s fabulous Spaulding Gray (a feline “foodie”). Both have helped me with invaluable research.
Thank you to my sweet pets who are all watching over me from heaven.
And last but not least, thank you to all of you who are readers and fans. Thank you for wanting to read about Charlotte and her family and friends and the fictional world of Providence, Ohio.
Say cheese!
Please visit me at my website, www.AveryAames.com, or on my blogs at www.mysteryloverskitchen.com and killercharacters.com. I’m on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads as well.
LIST OF CHARACTERS
Main characters
Charlotte Bessette—cheese shop owner, thirties, single
Amy, Claire—twin nieces (really first cousins once removed) of Charlotte, daughters of Matthew
Bozz Bozzuto—teenaged assistant and Internet guru in cheese shop
Delilah—owner of Country Kitchen, Charlotte’s good friend
Freckles—owner of Sew Inspired and friend to Charlotte
Grandmère—Charlotte’s grandmother, mayor of town, manager of theater aka Bernadette
Jordan Pace—cheese farmer
Lois Smith—owns Lavender and Lace B&B
Matthew Bessette—owner/sommelier, father of twins, cousin of Charlotte
Meredith Vance—teacher, best friend to Charlotte, engaged to Matthew
Pépère—Charlotte’s grandfather aka Etienne Bessette
Prudence Hart—dress shop owner and local diva
Rebecca Zook—assistant in cheese shop
Sylvie Bessette—Matthew’s British ex-wife
Umberto Urso—chief of police
Additional cast
Ainsley Smith the “Cube”—husband to Lois who owns Lavender and Lace B&B
Arlo MacMillan—local curmudgeon, owns chicken farm
Barton & Emma Burrell—cattle farmers
Chippendale Cooper—Ex-fiancé of Charlotte
Deputy Rodham—assistant to Chief Urso
Georgia Plachette—CFO of Clydesdale Enterprises
Ipo Ho—honeybee farmer
Jacky Peterson—sister to Jordan Pace
Kaitlyn Clydesdale—former resident, entrepreneur and Do-Gooder
Luigi Bozzuto—restaurant owner, Bozz’s uncle
Octavia Tibble—librarian and Realtor, friend to Charlotte
Oscar
Carson—workman at Ipo Ho’s Quail Ridge Honeybee Farm
Quigley—reporter
Tallulah Barker—local animal rescuer
Tyanne Thompson—Hurricane Katrina survivor and friend to Charlotte
Violet—owner of Violet’s Victoriana Inn
Animals
Rags—Charlotte’s Ragdoll rescue cat
Rocket—Briard rescue, given to Amy and Clair by their mother
Table Of Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
CHAPTER
“I thought I’d seen a ghost, Charlotte,” Matthew said.
“It wasn’t Chip.” I popped off the lid of another Tupperware box of decorations we’d lugged from The Cheese Shop. “Chip lives in France, not Providence.”
“He was blond, broad-shouldered, and fast.”
“So are you.”
“I’m telling you, the guy could run. What if it was him?”
I blew a stray hair off my face. “My ex-fiancé is not loping through the Winter Wonderland faire in the middle of February. Last I heard, he hated winter.” And hated me, but that was water over the falls.
“I worry that he’ll hurt—”
“It wasn’t him. We have tourists. Lots and lots of tourists. One looked like him, that’s all.” A fog of breath wisped out of my mouth. I buttoned my pearl-colored sweater and tightened the gold filigree scarf around my neck to ward off the morning chill. Wearing corduroys, a turtleneck, and extra socks beneath my boots wasn’t doing the trick.
Every year, in celebration of Providence’s Founder’s Day, the Village Green transformed itself into a Winter Wonderland faire. Farmers, vintners, and crafters from all over Holmes County and beyond joined in the weekend fun that would officially start on Friday evening. It was a tourist draw in a season when tourists should have been scarce. Overnight, small white tents with picture windows, peaked roofs, swinging doors, and fake green grass floors appeared. Twinkling white lights outlined each tent.
I stood in the middle of ours and removed glittery wedge-shaped ornaments from the decoration box. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay, Miss Touchy.” A grin inched up the right side of my cousin’s handsome face. He could be such a joker. He plucked another taste of what I called ambrosia—he’d already eaten three—from a small platter of cheeses that I’d brought to sample while we worked. “Hungry?” He waved it under my nose. “Mm-mmm. This is a delicious cheese. What is it?”
“Zamorano. A sheep’s cheese from Zamora, Spain. Sort of like Manchego. The milk comes from Churra sheep.” I’d eaten my fair share as an early morning snack.
“It’s nutty and sort of buttery.”
“Your new favorite,” I teased.
“How’d you guess?” He slipped the cheese into his mouth and hummed his appreciation.
While I decorated the tent with gold and burgundy ribbon looped through crystal wedge-shaped cheese ornaments, Matthew hoisted a box of wineglasses onto the antique buffet that I’d brought in to serve as our cheese counter and started to unpack them. We were setting up Fromagerie Bessette, or Le Petit Fromagerie as we were calling our little enterprise, primarily as a cheese- and wine-tasting venue. For the first day we would offer Vacherin Fribourg, a yummy cheese that’s perfect for fondue, Haloumi from Greece, which sort of tastes like a Mozzarella, and the Zamorano. Our wines would include a creamy Mount Eden chardonnay from Santa Cruz, a peppery Bordeaux, and the boisterous but not over-the-top Sin Zin zinfandel. Each customer would receive a burgundy souvenir plate embossed in gold with the words: Say cheese. For larger cheese purchases, we would direct eager customers back to Fromagerie Bessette. Gift items, crackers, and jams were available.
In between unpacking boxes, Matthew filched another sliver of cheese. “The Zamorano would pair well with the zinfandel, don’t you think?”
I laughed. “It’s good with all reds and even sherry.”
“Hmph. Showing off?”
“You bet.”
Matthew, a former sommelier and now my business partner, was doing his best to learn about cheese. In exchange, he instructed me about the complexities of wine. Our arrangement was what you would call a delicious swap.
“Well, it’s killer,” he said. “Truly killer.”
A chill shimmied through the tent. I twisted the knob on the standing heater beneath the buffet table and cozied up to it. Once we opened the tent to customers, we’d have the heater on all the time.
The front door flew open and a dash of yesterday’s featherlight snow fluttered inside.
Then Sylvie, Matthew’s buxom ex-wife, entered. “Hello, love!” She bolted toward us, waving a handful of glossy flyers. A cool breeze swirled through the tent until the door swung shut.
“Speaking of exes,” I said dryly as I felt my eyebrows rise.
“What are you … ?” Matthew sputtered. “Why … ?” He gaped at Sylvie with outright shock.
I didn’t do much better. The lacy purple teddy Sylvie wore barely covered her ample chest and her you-know-what. I couldn’t imagine that the purple muffler and ankle-high Uggs she was wearing provided enough warmth to bear the nip in the air. Her shoulders were dimpled with goose bumps.
“Did you forget to put on clothes?” Matthew managed to blurt out.
“I’m advertising, love,” Sylvie announced in her clipped British accent as she waved the flyers.
Advertising what? I pressed my lips together to keep the snarky comment from escaping. Good business required tact, even with ex-in-laws.
Sylvie owned a women’s boutique called Under Wraps. Many of the items in the store’s window would make the sultriest vixen blush. A few years back, Sylvie abandoned Matthew and their girls to live with Mumsie and Dad in merry old England. A couple of months ago, she returned to Providence. Much to Matthew’s vexation, she had wheedled her way back into their nine-soon-to-be-ten-year-old twins’ lives.
“I’ve rented the tent next to yours.” Sylvie fluffed her acid-white hair. Static electricity in the air made it stick straight up on top, but I didn’t tell her, my silence giving me a wicked pleasure. “What better lure than the aromas of cinnamon and hot spun sugar from the neighboring tents, right, love?”
To increase business during winter months, the Igloo Ice Cream Parlor made all sorts of delectable treats. The Igloo had rented a tent near ours, and though the faire wasn’t officially open, the shop was already selling its spicy winter version of cotton candy. Other scents like pine trees, cocoa, and brandy-laced crepes filled the air as well.
“C’mon, Mattie-Matt, sales are down,” Sylvie said. “I’ve got to do something to make customers flock to my tent.”
“Aren’t you jumping the gun?” Matthew said.
“I like to be prepared.” She sidled up to Matthew and ran a chocolate-colored fingernail down his sleeve. “Admit it. You always liked how I could coax a cow to croon.”
Matthew’s eyes turned as dark as lava. “Stop it.” He nudged her away.
Coming to his rescue, I gripped Sylvie by the elbow and steered her toward the exit. “Sylvie, give me some of those flyers. I’ll be glad to post these.”
Some place. Maybe in Timbuktu.
“Thanks, Charlotte. Oh, did
you hear—?”
“No time to gossip.” I prodded her forward. “We’re busy-busy.”
Sylvie frowned. She prided herself on being Providence’s gossipmonger extraordinaire. Gossip, according to her, flew rampant around a women’s boutique. “But—”
“We’ve got to get back to decorating. Bye-bye!”
Before she could protest, I propelled her into the cold, not thinking twice about how she would keep warm. She was an adult—or at least she liked to think so.
The door lingered before closing, and I caught the strains of Kenny G’s melodic saxophone playing a jazzy rendition of “My Funny Valentine.” Our mayor—my darling, eclectic grandmother—insisted that easy listening music play nonstop during the Winter Wonderland celebration. Speakers had been set up at the corner of every aisle.
Matthew returned to the task of unpacking glasses and muttered, “Can you believe it? Sylvie rented the tent next to ours.” On a normal day, my cousin was the most laid-back, generous man on the planet. But when it came to Sylvie, he turned sour. “Next to ours!” he repeated.
“Intimate, but not horrible.”
“She’s nuts. Certifiable. It’s supposed to snow again.”
“Not heavily.” Another gentle storm was due tomorrow, the kind that would entice children to walk around with chins upturned, mouths open, and would make our white tents glisten with frost.
Matthew mumbled, “Looney Tunes,” and I couldn’t disagree. When Sylvie ran out on Matthew, he and the twins moved in to my Victorian home with me. Matthew and I had spent many nights discussing the repercussions of Sylvie’s return. He worried that his children, by association, would start acting as crazy as she did. I assured him they wouldn’t.
“C’mon, cuz.” I nudged him on the shoulder. “No negativity, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Matthew brushed a thatch of tawny hair off his forehead and grumbled his dismay. Our new Briard pup—a surprise gift to the twins from their capricious mother—couldn’t have looked more chastised. “Found anybody to hire at The Cheese Shop?” Matthew asked as he inspected stemware for smudges.
