The Gingerbread Bump-Off

Table of Contents

 

 

Cookie Crumbs . . . 

For a second, Phyllis thought that someone had rung her doorbell and then run off, the classic prank that neighborhood children used to play before they all became too ironic and postmodern for such innocent high jinks.

Then she saw the dark, huddled shape lying on the front porch.

“Oh, my God!” she cried as she threw open the storm door and rushed out past the giant wreath hung on the wooden door. The storm door bumped the person lying on the porch. Shards of shattered ceramic crunched under Phyllis’s feet. The glow from the white icicle lights washed over the crumpled shape, and the multihued lights on the decorations in the yard cast brilliantly colored slashes of illumination over the scene. Phyllis’s eyes widened in shock and horror as she gazed down at the body of a woman surrounded by the broken remains of the gingerbread man that had been dressed as Mrs. Claus.

It took only a second for that ghastly sight to soak into her. Then she opened her mouth and screamed . . .

 

PRAISE FOR THE FRESH-BAKED MYSTERIES

 

“A delicious whodunit.”

—
Midwest Book Review

 

“Delightful, [with a] realistic small-town vibe [and a] vibrant narrative .  . .
A Peach of a Murder
runs the full range of emotions, so be prepared to laugh and cry with this one!”

—Romance Readers Connection

Other Fresh-Baked Mysteries by Livia J. Washburn

OBSIDIAN

Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd. ) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

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First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, November 2011

Copyright © Livia J. Reasoner, 2011

All rights reserved

OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:

Washburn, L. J.

The gingerbread bump-off: a fresh-baked mystery/Livia J. Washburn. p. cm.

“An Obsidian mystery.”

ISBN : 978-1-101-54577-5

1. Newsom, Phyllis (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Retired teachers—Fiction. 3. Women—Crimes against—Fiction. 4. Christmas stories. 5. Baking—Fiction. 6. Weatherford (Tex.)—Fiction. I. Title PS3573.A787G’.54—dc22 2011026920

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Chapter 1

P
hyllis Newsom lifted her head and frowned as she heard the unmistakable strains of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” drifting through the house.

A baking sheet full of German chocolate cookies ready to go into the oven sat on the kitchen counter in front of her, but she left them sitting there as she walked out to the living room, wiping her hands on a towel as she went.

Sam Fletcher stood in front of the stereo system that rested on a shelf next to the television. His hands were tucked in the hip pockets of his jeans, and his head moved slightly, in time with the music. He was tall and slender, in keeping with his background as a basketball player and coach, and although his rumpled thatch of hair had a lot more white in it now than gray, he still didn’t really look his age.

“Sam,” Phyllis said, “you know I don’t really like that song. It just doesn’t seem very . . .
Christmasy
to me.”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought with you out in the kitchen it might not bother you.” A smile spread across his rugged face. “I’ve got ‘Jingle Bells’ by the singin’ dogs, if that’d be better.”

She was about to tell him that it wouldn’t be, when she realized that he was joking. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had almost fooled her, so she just waved a hand casually and said, “Play whatever you want. I really don’t care.”

With that, she went back to the kitchen. By the time she got there, the music had stopped, as Sam had ejected the CD. A moment later, Nat King Cole started singing about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Phyllis smiled. That was one of her favorites.

She looked down at the cookies on the baking sheet. The base was a dark chocolate cookie, each with a thumb-sized depression in the middle that Phyllis had filled with a mixture of German chocolate, grated coconut, and crushed pecans. The oven was ready, so she opened the door and slid the baking sheet onto the rack. If these cookies turned out well, she would make another batch. With any luck, this recipe would be her entry in the local newspaper’s annual Christmas cookie recipe contest.

The past two years, Carolyn Wilbarger, who also lived in the big house in one of Weatherford’s tree-shaded old residential neighborhoods, had won that contest, with Phyllis finishing as runner-up both times. That was fine with Phyllis—she enjoyed just coming up with recipes and sharing them with people—but it might be nice to really give Carolyn a run for her money this year. Not that there was any money at stake, Phyllis reminded herself, only prestige, and she didn’t really care all that much about
that
, either. She had a good life here, with a lovely son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, and three good friends who were retired teachers, as she was, to share the house with her.

But that comfortable, well-ordered life was about to be shaken up, and although she knew she ought to be happy about the circumstances, she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“Everyone, meet Roy Porter,”
Eve Turner had said when she brought the silver-haired stranger to the house on Thanksgiving.
“Roy and I are engaged. Do you believe it? We’re going to be married!”

That news had been a bolt out of the blue. None of Eve’s housemates had had any idea she was seeing anyone. It shouldn’t have been that surprising. Eve had been married several times before and always had her eye out for an eligible bachelor of the proper age. She had even pursued Sam for a while after he moved into the house to rent one of the vacant rooms. But she certainly had been more discreet about her courtship this time.

“We met on the Facebook,” Eve had explained. “It turns out we have mutual friends. We started writing on each other’s door—”

“Wall, dear,” Roy had corrected gently.

“On each other’s wall,” Eve went on, “and, well, one thing led to another.”

With Eve it usually did, given half a chance.