Scrambled to Death: A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery

by Molly Dox

  Scrambled to Death

  A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery, 1

  Molly Dox

  Copyright 2016, Molly Dox

  Cozy Kiss Publishing

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  Scrambled to Death

  Book 1 – No cliffhangers. Standalone Read.

  Spring Valley, Pennsylvania was usually a quiet town. When two otherwise healthy men dropped dead, things got serious. Rosie Sage’s eatery was thrust into the spotlight along with another family restaurant. Could the murders be related?

  Some things aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. When eggs hold deadly secrets, and gossip gets piping hot, Rosie’s forced to look closer. It’s not like the local sheriff had any leads. And if business got any slower, her restaurant could end up like a soggy cracker at the bottom of a soup bowl, squishy and unloved.

  Can Rosie out-waffle the killer and find the information she needs to solve the case? Will buttering up the potential suspects for details end her in more trouble?

  Meet Rosie, Libby, and Dash in this family-friendly cozy mystery. Oh, and about Dash… Dash is a cat. Not a psychic cat, not a ghost cat, not a detective cat. He’s just a cat, but he sure is cute.

  Contents

  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 1

  When Christopher Banks dropped dead, people were shocked. Nobody expected a healthy young man to die without just cause. Was it foul play? After all, Christopher Banks wasn’t the kind of guy to make enemies. Okay, maybe he made a couple…like his ex-wife. And then there were the clients he’d let down. Hmm, I might have misstated that. Turns out there were more than a few people who were less than fond of him. I tend to jump to conclusions, so you’ll have to forgive me. I’m only here to tell the story. Here’s hoping I remember all the important details.

  When a second victim, Peyton Darling, kicked the bucket local residents started to panic. In the small town of Spring Valley, Pennsylvania two murders were bad business. It wasn’t the kind of place known for shocking news, or well, much news at all. Spring Valley offered quaint, tired streets, and a sleepy atmosphere. The few businesses that dotted the town added what life they could, but a small town without growth doesn’t go very far.

  When two men died, two days in a row, in two local restaurants not more than two blocks apart, people sat up and took notice. It’s not like the calamity shook the bigger, neighboring town of Sugar Hollow. Nope, the chaos happened right there, smack in the middle of a two traffic light town.

  Left scratching their heads, Spring Valley went into a spiral as the townsfolk speculated and pointed fingers. Catastrophe struck. Would their fearless and feisty sheriff in charge be able to figure things out? Right. Fearless and feisty might be a bit of an exaggeration, but he had his moments. Would the police be able to find answers? Or would the nosy and determined residents iron out the details to the crippling crimes that took two lives?

  Patterson’s Family Restaurant was one of two popular breakfast places in Spring Valley. John Patterson was the proud owner of the eatery, and it was a busy morning the day Christopher Banks went limp. Poor guy flat out collapsed. His body dropped and sprawled across the table, shooting his plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast straight to the other side of his booth. Yolk splattered in a sticky, laced pattern as it hit the seat. The toast, having been buttered and jellied flipped and stuck like glue to the tabletop.

  After the loud thud of his head hitting the table, he remained slumped over in his seat. When his plate took flight, his silverware clattered and sprang to life. A disheveled mess would await the bus boy.

  People turned to look at the chaotic commotion and whispered among themselves. Was he napping? Did he have a heart attack? Or was it a seizure? What if it was the food that killed him?

  Nobody knew for sure, but a lot of customers suddenly seemed full and put their forks down.

  Tucked on the table beside the dead man was a bag of muffins from Betsy Beamer's Coffee Bean shop. They were his usual mid-morning snack. Betsy was known to have the best blueberry muffins in town. No, seriously, like the best. If you wanted a couple of your own, you needed to get there at the crack of dawn. She sold out of those bad boys early most days. It didn't even matter if you liked blueberry muffins. When you walked into the Coffee Bean, if you took one good whiff, you were hooked. There was magic in those muffins.

  While one dead man was bad news, two dead men were a scandal.

  Peyton Darling was the next to succumb to the pearly gates. He was a first class loser and user of people, and when he fell off of his stool while sitting at The Breakfast Nook’s counter, people were shocked, but hardly dismayed. Neither of the men would be missed much, but it wasn’t polite to say it out loud.

  Unfortunately, The Nook wasn’t known for dead guys. It made quite an impression. Sure, the oatmeal could use more brown sugar, and they served plenty of bacon – enough to make a cardiologist bristle, but killer breakfast meats were not their specialty. Two dead guys, two days, two blocks apart…

  Meet Rosie and Libby Sage, the owners of The Breakfast Nook. They’ll take the story from here – they’re better with details and you might get the full story. Me, I’ll catch you later.

  **

  Rosemary Sage finished prepping the potatoes for a batch of hash browns. She liked them simple, sliced thin, and with a dab of caramelized onion. Cooking up the onions was her favorite part. The sweet smell of the Vidalia browning filled the kitchen with delight. Rosie inhaled deeply, lingering in the scent. While she added onion, she skipped green peppers. Patterson’s used peppers, but Rosie had her own way of doing things. Hash browns were one of her specialties and always brought customers back for more. She plated them up beside eggs and other goodies. You needed magic and a good recipe to bring them back in the restaurant business, and Rosie kept a few tricks up her sleeve. Good food and fair prices were crucial, but sensational hash browns were quite another.

  The Breakfast Nook was one of the two eateries in their small town. A handful of businesses dotted Main Street and Spring Valley Pike. The post office highlighted the heart of the town, and a small park and playground were familiar gathering places that sat directly next to the post office.

  If Charlie Staggs, head of the local business coalition had his way, there'd be plenty more business to build up their economic stability. Thankfully, they were situated between two busier towns, and still got drive-by traffic. Without a highway-bypass cutting them out, business continued to thrive. Charlie worked long and hard to delay the bypass. He might have greased a few palms, but either way the main drag running through Spring Valley kept their town alive for the time being.

  Rosie owned The Breakfast No
ok, a small luncheonette, with her mother. Libby and Rosie made a name for themselves with their quick lunch menu and classic breakfast entries. They were a breakfast and lunch shop that closed up after the lunch rush, usually around three. Well, their idea of a rush which isn’t massive when you live in a tiny town. They worked together without issue most days. Though, being that close all day long there were a few tense moments.

  Dash, their tabby, was Rosie’s only other family member. He was a sweet and loyal cat, and held most of her secrets. As for her dad, she hadn’t seen him in ages, not that she missed him based on the things she heard. Her father wasn’t family in her eyes, DNA or not. As for her mother, well, Rosie and Libby were different enough to drive one another crazy, yet similar enough to tolerate each other.

  Rosie was making a fresh batch of coffee, when she overheard Myrtle starting with her usual morning babbling. There weren’t many people there, so it was easy enough to listen in. Sometimes she heard something good, other times – okay, so eavesdropping wasn’t a stellar trait to have, but Myrtle really did get most of the gossip before everyone else. Rosie had no idea how, but that woman got around.

  With a ding of a bell, Rosie went to retrieve the newly prepared dishes. “Myrtle’s at it again,” she whispered to her mother. With plates in hand, she headed back to the front of the restaurant.

  Myrtle leaned toward Gloria as if to whisper, but nothing Myrtle said was a secret. "Did you hear? He dropped dead right where he sat. Patterson's will never be the same. I was running a little late and came in right after. They'd already moved his body before I got there, so I didn't get a good look at him."

  Gloria nodded with enthusiasm. Her curls bobbed with her head.

  Rosie moved in and asked Myrtle, “What’s going on?”

  Gloria was about to answer, but Myrtle nudged her under the table with her foot. Not quite a kick, but a strong enough nudge that Gloria quickly shut her trap. Myrtle made it clear that she’d be the one to answer.

  Rosie slid the woman’s breakfast onto the table. She'd ordered her eggs over easy, her toast white, and her potatoes extra crispy. Myrtle came in just about every other day, alternating between The Nook (as locals often called it) and Patterson's.

  “Yesterday, didn’t you hear?” She turned her full attention to Rosie. She loved to be the center of attention, and took pride in always having the best and juiciest gossip. “Over at Patterson’s, a man up and croaked in one of the booths. It happened yesterday. How did you not know?”

  Myrtle spoke loud enough that a few of Rosie’s other customers turned to look their way. A couple of men, Peyton Darling, and a traveling businessman Matt Adams were there, along with another two local women, Patsy and Viola. One gentleman was reading the paper, while the other was lost in thought while eating his bagel. Patsy and Viola were in deep discussion over their latest book club choice.

  “You don’t say? I guess it’s pointless to ask if he’s okay. Do you know who it was?” Wow, right down the road? How didn’t she hear about it?

  “Christopher Banks,” Myrtle said, then added more before picking up her fork. “A little young to be kicking the bucket this early, don’t you think? I wonder what his ex-wife Dora thinks about the news?”

  “Hmm, yeah. He’s been in here a few times.” Rosie wasn’t sure what to make of it. A young guy buying the farm, right then and there, though she wasn’t familiar with his medical history. He couldn’t have been more than in his late thirties.

  “Anyway, word is spreading fast. Of course, everybody is a little nervous it was the food.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, poked the yolk of her eggs to break them and then set her fork back down. She liked to dip her toast in the soft yolks. “The parking lot was empty this morning.”

  “Thanks for the information,” Rosie answered as she slid Gloria's plate onto the table. Gloria ordered a simple stack of pancakes with a side of sausage. Syrup was already on the table and a small scoop of butter sat beside the pancakes in a small paper container.

  Gloria took in the sight of the golden flap-jacks. She inhaled deeply. "Mmm, sure smells good."

  “I hope you enjoy them,” Rosie added, then made her way back to the kitchen. “Mom, did you hear what happened yesterday?”

  “Oh, the dead guy? Yeah.” She continued what she was doing and didn’t turn to face her daughter.

  “You knew a man died over at Patterson’s and you didn’t think to tell me?” Rosie was more than surprised. Usually, her mother was a gossip.

  “It slipped my mind is all, dear,” she said before picking up the tray of cupcakes she’d been working on for the lunchtime crowd, and placing them in the oven. Libby turned and smiled at her daughter. “It might be good for business. It has been a little slow lately.”

  Rosie stared at her mother, not sure what to say. It slipped my mind? She shook her head, trying to grasp that her mother outright lied to her. Why wouldn’t she mention something so big? Rosie grumbled and put it aside for the time being.

  A loud thud that sounded like a sack of potatoes hitting the floor came from the front of the restaurant. Within seconds, a shrill scream filled the air. Rosie ran out to see one of her customers crumpled on the floor. Her heart caught in her throat. She reached for his carotid artery and checked the unconscious man for a pulse. Nothing.

  “Call 9-1-1,” Libby shouted to Myrtle.

  Libby and Rosie started CPR while others looked on in horror. People were dropping like flies in Spring Valley.

  The sirens cried in the distance as the ambulance and police made their way to the restaurant. Everyone sat silently in shock. Finally, the paramedic arrived and took over, but ended up calling it half way to the hospital. They found out later that the man, Peyton Darling, died.

  People whispered amongst themselves. Everybody had their own way of dealing with the tragedy.

  In two days, two men died right where they ate. The only thing in front of where Peyton sat was a cup of coffee and a partially eaten bagel. Stunned by the turn of events, Rosie shivered and pulled her arms tightly around her body. A man died in her restaurant. Nothing would ever be the same, and her business would take a serious hit.

  Word spread quickly and the gossip followed. People were convinced it was the food. There must have been a connection. They weren't related, barely knew each other, and both ate at different restaurants. The only common element was food.

  Chapter 2

  Rosie’s entire world twisted. She and John Patterson were picked up on suspicion. Both accused restaurateurs swore they had nothing to do with the murders, but the police weren’t taking any chances.

  Rosie asked her mom to hire a lawyer. A lawyer would have been the easy way, but Libby never did things that made sense. Instead, she made her own plans. Libby slipped into the small town jail cell late at night and broke her daughter out. They’d been holding her until she could be seen by a judge. John’s mouth gaped as he watched Libby break her daughter free. Of the two small cells, they’d each been placed in one.

  “What about me? I’m innocent,” he claimed.

  Libby simply shrugged. “Sorry, buddy, blood is thicker than water.”

  John started yelling out, rattling the cage to bring attention to the situation.

  “Oh shush, you old trouble maker,” Libby snapped. She finagled the lock to his cage, knowing she was limited on time.

  “Mom, how did you learn to do that?” Rosie stared and watched her mother’s hidden talent.

  Libby didn’t answer; there wasn’t time to talk. “Not now, let’s get out of here, before the guard wakes up.”

  “What did you do?” Rosie felt the weight drop on her shoulders. Her mother’s actions would jeopardize her.

  Libby glared. “Really, you can’t ask me this stuff later?”

  “I shouldn’t go. I’m innocent, and if I run it makes me look guilty,” Rosie said, contemplating her options. If she broke out of jail as an innocent woman, she’d look suspicious and guilty, while staying
meant she could be charged with a crime she didn’t commit.

  John addressed Rosie. “Do you want to be put away for murder?”

  Rosie hemmed and hawed, then snuck out the side door with the other two. Everything in her body told her not to run. She’d regret this. It would add to her perceived list of crimes. She could simply explain that she had nothing to do with it, no motive, no intent, and that there was a misunderstanding. Right? And then she would wait for pigs to fly. They said there was evidence, that she was the one guilty on one count, while John on the other. They claimed they were working together. How? Why? Confused and in turmoil, she disappeared from the town’s small jail cell before she could get bumped to the county prison. She’d have to take her chances.

  John squeezed Libby’s hand once they were outside. “Thank you, baby. I’m sorry that I let you down.”

  Rosie tilted her head. Baby? Libby shot him a look. There was a silent exchange going on, and only the two of them knew what was going on. Rosie’s jaw dropped. “Mom, are you and John…”

  “Were,” she answered. “Now get in the truck, before we get caught.”

  “She was going to leave me there,” John whined.

  Libby fired up the truck and cautiously pulled onto the street. Nobody knew where she planned on driving, but it certainly wasn’t home.

  “We need to figure out what’s going on. As soon as they realize you’re gone, they’ll be looking for you. We’ll hold up at a friend’s vacation cabin for a bit. I know where they keep their spare key.”

  “We’re fugitives now? Mom, take me back! I can’t do this.” Rosie’s stomach flipped flopped.

  “It’s too late now, kiddo. It’s time to put your sleuthing hat on, because I’m not letting my little girl to go jail for a murder she didn’t commit.”

  “How can you be sure,” Rosie challenged.

  Libby zipped her lip and kept driving.

  They didn’t expect the state police to be notified so quickly. The road block meant one of two things. They’d be in bigger trouble, or they’d need to get around it. John took a third option. He pushed the door open and rolled onto the side of the road, then scampered into the woods. Police were on him in minutes, and from the rear view mirror, Libby watched John come out of the woods with his hands up. She closed her eyes and pushed down hard on the accelerator.