****
The only thing she worried about when Dalton showed up at her door at seven o’clock was how he might react to her suggestion. She broke the ice by offering him a glass of Chardonnay while they munched on stuffed mushrooms in her kitchen. She’d put a brisket and potatoes in the oven, but the food still had some time to go. Smoothing down her royal blue chemise dress, she regarded him from under mascared lashes.
He’d dressed for the occasion in a button-down shirt with a pullover wool sweater and form-fitting trousers. His peppery hair, parted to one side, looked as though he’d used a styling comb. Her gaze sank from his hair to his eyes, gleaming like polished pewter. She choked down a piece of mushroom. Now that she had him all to herself, she felt suddenly shy.
“We promised each other not to talk about any of your cases,” she said. “I don’t know what to say.”
They stood in front of the counter, facing each other.
“I’ve never known you to be tongue-tied.” His lips quirked in a half-smile.
“Uh, I made a few more calls about Brianna’s party. We could do laser tag or bowling, or rent the pavilion at Flamingo Gardens. None of those costs as much as a catered affair. If she wants to go fancier, we could do a dance party at—”
“Never mind.” He put his glass down, then reached for hers and placed it on the counter. Stepping closer, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve solved the problem.”
“You have?” Her breath came short at his nearness. The room seemed to shrink around them as they locked gazes. The scent of his spice aftershave mingled with the aroma of roasting wine-braised beef. Warmth coiled in her center, spiraling outward.
“I reserved a group of tables at Dave and Buster’s,” he said, his voice husky.
So he’s affected by me, too. “That’s the place with the video games?”
“Right, but they also have a dinner show. Brie loves the idea. It’s an interactive murder mystery play, what else?”
“That’s great.” Grinning, she threw her arms around him. Thank goodness that chore was off her list.
“Umm, I like this.” He pressed his body against hers.
She tilted her neck to regard him. “I have a proposition. How about if we put a hold on dinner and go straight to dessert?”
“Honey,” he said, kissing her, “you’ve got a deal.”
Yiddish Glossary
Bubeleh—A term of endearment
Chutzpeh—Audacity, nerve, gall
Fresser—A big eater; a glutton
Kibbitz—To comment; offer unsolicited advice
Klipeh—A gabby woman; a shrew
Klutz—A clumsy person
Kvetch—To complain
Maven—An expert
Megillah—The whole story; the complete details
Mensch—An admirable person; one who is decent and honorable
Meshugass—Madness, insanity, crazy antics
Meshugeh—Crazy
Mitzvah—A good deed
Nudnik—A bore or an obnoxious person
Oy Vey—An expression of dismay
Saichel—Common sense
Schmooze—To chat
Schnozzle—Nose
Shandeh—A shame or a disgrace
Shaineh Maidel—A pretty girl
Shikseh—A non-Jewish girl
Shiva—Days of mourning after a funeral
Shlemiel—A clumsy, inept person; a fool
Shlepper—A freeloader
Shlimazel—An unlucky person for whom things never go right
Shlep—To drag or to carry
Shlock—An item of cheap quality
Shmaltzy—Sentimental
Shmatteh—A rag, or a ragged piece of clothing
Shmoe—A naïve person
Shmuck—An obnoxious or contemptible person
Shnook—A meek or gullible person
Shnorrer—A resourceful sponger or moocher
Shnoz/Schnozzle—Nose
Shpilkes—Restlessness; nervous energy
Shvitz—A steam bath
Tante—Aunt
Tchotchkes—Knickknacks
Tsuris—Troubles
Yenta—A gossip or a meddlesome woman
Author’s Note
I became interested in tilapia farming when I visited The Land pavilion at Epcot Center in Walt Disney World. This short boat tour, tunefully accompanied by “Listen to the Land” at the time, included an educational cruise through several Tropical Greenhouses. These sections showed alternate methods of cultivating crops, while an Aquacell displayed the value of farm-raised fish. I remembered this visit and decided to feature tilapia breeding in this story.
Coming next is Highlights to Heaven. Marla’s pet-loving neighbor Goat disappears, leaving a dead body in his bedroom. While she wrestles with the mystery of her friend’s vanishing act, Marla mediates a power struggle between Dalton Vail and his teenaged daughter. Being distracted by the handsome detective’s charms can be dangerous, especially when another killer runs amok in sultry South Florida.
****
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About the Author
Nancy J. Cohen writes the humorous Bad Hair Day mystery series featuring hairdresser Marla Shore, who solves crimes with wit and style under the sultry Florida sun. These titles have made the IMBA bestseller list and have been chosen by Suspense Magazine as best cozy mystery. Nancy is also the author of Writing the Cozy Mystery, a valuable instructional guide on how to write a winning whodunit.
Her imaginative romances have proven popular with fans as well. Titles in this genre, including the Drift Lords series, have won the HOLT Medallion and Best Book in Romantic SciFi/Fantasy at The Romance Reviews.
A featured speaker at libraries, conferences, and community events, Nancy is listed in Contemporary Authors, Poets & Writers, and Who’s Who in U.S. Writers, Editors, & Poets. When not busy writing, she enjoys fine dining, visiting Disney World, cruising, and outlet shopping.
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Books by Nancy J. Cohen
Bad Hair Day Mysteries
Permed to Death
Hair Raiser
Murder by Manicure
Body Wave
Highlights to Heaven
Died Blonde
Dead Roots
Perish by Pedicure
Killer Knots
Shear Murder
Hanging by a Hair
Peril by Ponytail
Facials Can Be Fatal
The Drift Lords Series
Warrior Prince
Warrior Rogue
Warrior Lord
Science Fiction Romances
Keeper of the Rings
Silver Serenade
The Light-Years Series
Circle of Light
Moonlight Rhapsody
Starlight Child
Nonfiction
Wri
ting the Cozy Mystery
Edited by Nancy J. Cohen
Thumbs Up by Harry I. Heller (Nancy’s father)
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Highlights to Heaven Excerpt
Copyright © 2003 by Nancy J. Cohen
Here’s a sneak peek of Highlights to Heaven, book #5 in the Bad Hair Day Mysteries.
Chapter One
“What do you mean, there’s a dead body at Goat’s place?” Marla asked Detective Dalton Vail. He stood on her front stoop, his expression as somber as his charcoal suit. Cool March air penetrated the toasty warmth of her South Florida townhouse while she waited for his reply.
“We received an anonymous tip,” he said, his tall form blocking the doorway. “Have you seen your neighbor recently?”
She craned her neck to glance down the street. “I haven’t talked to Goat since last week. You know, I’ve been worried about him. He promised to water Moss’s impatiens next door, but the flowers are wilting. Moss tried to reach him, but Goat hasn’t answered his doorbell or his phone.”
“Isn’t that his van parked in the driveway?”
“Uh-huh.” No one could miss the vehicle emblazoned with The Gay Groomer. Marla recalled the first time she’d seen it. Only a shnook like her would assume he must be a caterer for gay couples. She’d learned Goat handled pets, not gay bridegrooms, when a neighbor introduced them.
“I figured he must have gone away for the weekend,” she added. “A friend could have picked him up. But today is Tuesday, so he should have been back by now, unless he’s on vacation.” Her body chilled beneath the flannel lining of her sweatsuit. “I hope he isn’t lying there hurt, or worse. You may not believe me, but I’ve been trying not to interfere for a change.”
“That’s a switch.” His approving grin sent a spiral of heat through her. “Likely this is a crank call, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I decided to swing by and take a look myself rather than assign it to another detective.”
“Did you knock on Goat’s door?”
He grunted affirmatively. “No one answered. I thought I’d check with you before I do anything else.” His gray eyes brightened as he regarded her with a lazy perusal.
Hey, pal, what turns you on more, the notion of a stiff body or a live one? You liked mine all right two nights ago.
“When did you get the message?” she asked, probing for more information. She’d helped him solve cases before.
“This morning. I had voice mail on my office phone.”
She glanced at her Rado watch. “You must have gone to work awfully early. It’s only eight o’clock.”
“I got in at seven. I was hoping you hadn’t left for the salon yet.”
“I’d hoped to catch up on paperwork at home and to check email before my first appointment. Let’s go next door. Goat gave Moss a spare key to use in case of an emergency. Wait here while I let Spooks inside.”
She strode through the kitchen to open a rear sliding glass door. When her poodle bounded inside, she stooped to stroke his cream-colored coat. “Sorry we missed our morning walk, precious. I’ll take you out tonight.” The dog dashed into the living room to sniff Dalton’s ankles. “He smells your golden retriever,” she told him. “Hurry, before Spooks seduces you into petting him.”
“Sorry, that privilege is reserved for you.”
Dalton’s sexy tone mitigated her anxiety, but not for long. “Come on. I’m really worried about Goat.”
She led the way to Moss’s adjacent townhouse, then rapped on his door via a miniature brass anchor that served as his door knocker.
“Ahoy, mates,” Moss greeted them in a hearty voice as he swung open the door. A naval cap topped his head of white hair. He and his wife were early risers; Marla needn’t have worried about waking them.
“We’re checking on Goat,” Marla explained. “You still haven’t seen him around, right?”
Moss’s leathery face crinkled with concern. “Haven’t seen the fellow in days, and his van hasn’t moved. Doggoned if I know where he’s been hiding.” His blue gaze switched to the homicide detective. “Morning, Lieutenant. What brings you here so early?”
“Marla is worried about your neighbor. You notice anything unusual over the weekend?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you have a key to Goat’s house?”
“Sure do. Wait here while I get it.” A few moments later, he handed it over. “I’d go with you, but I’m on my way to meet my golf buddies for breakfast. Emma is home if you need anything else.”
“I’ll let you know what we learn,” Marla reassured him, before she and Dalton turned toward Goat’s address.
“I’ll go in first,” Dalton announced. “You stay outside while I look around.”
“No way. If Goat is hurt, he’ll need me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You may have worked as Miriam’s home health aide last month, but that doesn’t mean you’re Florence Nightingale.”
Miriam loved it when I took care of her, and I did a damn fine job as an undercover investigator. “We found her granddaughter’s murderer, didn’t we?”
“Only after both of us nearly got killed. Give me the key, and don’t move from this spot.”
She noticed he didn’t draw his gun after pushing the door open. Ignoring his advice, she trailed after his rangy figure.
“Goat? Are you here?” she called in a tremulous voice from the foyer. A loud squawk in response made her shriek.
Dalton whirled around, his eyes flashing. “I thought I told you to wait outside.”
“I’m the concerned neighbor checking on a friend, remember?” Her nose wrinkled. “Dear Lord, what is that stench?” Clapping a hand over her mouth, she glanced at the kitchen to their left, but the odor didn’t appear to be coming from there. The counter appeared clean, with no dirty dishes littering its surface or clogging the sink drain. From the top of the refrigerator, a Siamese cat glared down at her. Its haunches raised as it hissed ominously. She hadn’t warned Dalton about the menagerie Goat kept at his place.
“Ugamaka, ugamaka, chugga, chugga, ush,” chanted a loud voice that sounded startlingly like Goat’s.
Her lips parted as she scanned the living room furnished in Garage Sale motif. A brightly colored parrot in a cage stared back.
“Oh, so you’re the one making all the noise.” She wondered if the stink came from its confines.
As she entered the family room, a gust of wind rattled an open door leading to the backyard. Dalton headed for a ground-floor bedroom that held the master suite.
“Don’t touch anything,” he said in a flat tone as he peered inside. His gaze narrowed, and his mouth went taut.
“What’s the matter?” One glance into the bedroom showed her what was rotting.
A man’s body sprawled across the queen-sized bed.
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