Death by Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake by Sarah Graves EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Sarah Graves
- Language: English
- Genre: Cozy Culinary Mystery
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
It was a bright summer morning, the first day of July in the remote island
village of Eastport, Maine—three hours from Bangor, light-years from
anywhere else—with a salty breeze snapping in the banners over the
seawall and the sun glittering on the bay.
Up and down Water Street in front of the old two-story brick or wooden
storefront buildings, shopkeepers swept doorways, hung out colorful OPEN
flags, and watered lush window boxes brimming with red geraniums while
seagulls swooped above.
Not the kind of morning that makes you worry about finding a dead
body, in other words.
But as I approached my own small chocolate-themed bake shop, The
Chocolate Moose, a petite white-haired woman in jeans and a black T-shirt
—the shirt gorgeously embroidered in gleaming jewel tones at the neckline,
jeans fitting as if tailored—stepped from the Second Hand Rose, her
vintage clothing emporium next door.
“Good morning, Jacobia,” she trilled.
The accent’s on the second syllable of my name, by the way, and it’s Jake
to my friends. But the Rose’s owner disdained casual nicknames as
scrupulously as she avoided giving discounts.
Firmly I averted my gaze from the shimmery-gray wool shawl hung in
her store’s bay window. It was lovely, and would be even more so this
coming winter. But it was expensive and I’d put all my disposable money
into setting up the Moose six weeks earlier.
Plus some that was not strictly disposable. “Good morning, Miss
Halligan. Hard at work already, I see.”
She was lugging a bucketful of sudsy water with a squeegee in it, though
her shop’s window was already spotless as usual.
“Mmm,” she replied, squeegeeing energetically. Her perfume, a light
citrus fragrance, mixed pleasantly with the sweet smell of the bay. “I hope
everything’s all right.”
She’d called me at 5 A.M.; Miss Halligan was an early riser. She’d said
my own shop door was standing open and did I want to do something about
it myself, or should she just call the cops?
Listening, I’d held back a sigh. The wind often blew that old door open—
the lock had been wonky from the start, the door itself creaky and
temperamental—and obviously it had done so again. So I’d merely asked
Miss Halligan to close it as best she could, then made one more call before
going back to sleep.
Now she eyed me, brandishing the dripping squeegee. “I’d have panicked
if it had been my shop,” she said.
And would’ve rushed down here at once to check on things, she meant.
“But you must have all sorts of responsibilities at home with that big old
house of yours and your family,” she added.
“Uh-huh.” I stepped into the doorway of the Chocolate Moose, a tiny
storefront with two bay windows, a moose-head silhouette with elaborate
wooden antlers hung from chains over the door, and a pair of small castiron café tables on the sidewalk out front.
At the moment, that big house of mine was being cleaned by my
housekeeper, Bella Diamond, who since she’d married my elderly father
had also become my stepmother.
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