Stake & Eggs Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  Bedeviled Eggs

  “Childs dishes up plenty of small-town charm.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A recipe for success from a talented author.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  “As warming as a mug of hot chocolate on a cold evening.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Eggs Benedict Arnold

  “A delicious platter of thrilling whodunit, with a side of friendship and humor for dessert.”

  —Las Vegas Review-Journal

  “Extremely entertaining amateur-sleuth mystery wrapped inside a sisterhood tale.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “Another tasty treat.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  Eggs in Purgatory

  “Tasty and fun.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  “With a plot that holds interest and characters who are well-envisioned and well-executed, Childs will have readers planning another trip to the Cackleberry Club and its treats.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  “Childs excels at creating comforting settings in which to put her characters, and the Cackleberry Club is a place you’d like to visit.”

  —St. Paul Pioneer Press

  “Has plenty of humor, emotion, good food (with recipes), and fantastic plotlines to make it another success story.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  PRAISE FOR THE

  SCRAPBOOKING MYSTERIES

  BY LAURA CHILDS

  “Childs rounds out the story with several scrapbooking and crafting tips plus a passel of mouthwatering Louisiana recipes.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “The heroine is a plucky, strong, and independent woman who takes charge when necessary as she is the original steel magnolia.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “If you are a scrapbooker and like to read, then Laura Childs’s Scrapbooking Mystery series is for you! These books are so great that I just couldn’t put them down! I just can’t wait for the next one to be released.”

  —BellaOnline

  “Scrapbook aficionados rejoice! Ms. Childs creates a charming mystery series with lively, quirky characters and plenty of how-to…Serving up some hors d’oeuvres of murder and mystery, creativity and fashion, she has a winning formula to get even the laziest of us in a scrapbooking mood.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “An entertaining who-done-it.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Childs does an excellent job of weaving suspense with great tips for scrapbooking and crafting aficionados.”

  —I Love A Mystery

  PRAISE FOR THE TEA SHOP MYSTERIES

  BY LAURA CHILDS

  Featured Selection of the Mystery Book Club

  “Highly recommended” by the Ladies’ Tea Guild

  “A delightful read…Childs has an eye for great local color.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A paean to Charleston, the genteel enjoyment of tea, and the tasty treats that accompany it.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Murder suits Laura Childs to a Tea.”

  —St. Paul Pioneer Press

  “Tea lovers, mystery lovers, [this] is for you. Just the right blend of cozy fun and clever plotting.”

  —Susan Wittig Albert, bestselling author of Cat’s Claw

  “It’s a delightful book!”

  —Tea: A Magazine

  “Will warm readers the way a good cup of tea does…A delightful series that will leave readers feeling as if they have shared a warm cup of tea on Church Street in Charleston.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “This mystery series could single-handedly propel the tea shop business in this country to the status of wine bars and bustling coffee houses.”

  —Buon Gusto

  “If you devoured Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden, this new series is right up your alley.”

  —The Goose Creek (SC) Gazette

  “Gives the reader a sense of traveling through the streets and environs of the beautiful, historic city of Charleston.”

  —Minnetonka (MN) Lakeshore Weekly News

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Laura Childs

  Tea Shop Mysteries

  DEATH BY DARJEELING

  GUNPOWDER GREEN

  SHADES OF EARL GREY

  THE ENGLISH BREAKFAST MURDER

  THE JASMINE MOON MURDER

  CHAMOMILE MOURNING

  BLOOD ORANGE BREWING

  DRAGONWELL DEAD

  THE SILVER NEEDLE MURDER

  OOLONG DEAD

  THE TEABERRY STRANGLER

  SCONES & BONES

  AGONY OF THE LEAVES

  Scrapbooking Mysteries

  KEEPSAKE CRIMES

  PHOTO FINISHED

  BOUND FOR MURDER

  MOTIF FOR MURDER

  FRILL KILL

  DEATH SWATCH

  TRAGIC MAGIC

  FIBER & BRIMSTONE

  SKELETON LETTERS

  POSTCARDS FROM THE DEAD

  Cackleberry Club Mysteries

  EGGS IN PURGATORY

  EGGS BENEDICT ARNOLD

  BEDEVILED EGGS

  STAKE & EGGS

  Anthology

  DEATH BY DESIGN

  •LAURA CHILDS•

  Stake & Eggs

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  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 Group 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

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  STAKE & EGGS

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / November 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Gerry Schmitt & Associates, Inc.

  Excerpt from Sweet Tea Revenge by Laura Childs copyright © 2012 by Gerry Schmitt & Associates, Inc.

  Cover illustration by Lee White.

  Cover design by Annette Fiore Defex.

  Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61330-6

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON

  For my husband, Dr. Bob,

  who was scheduled to retire, but taught

  an additional six years so I could have my shot

  at mystery writing.

  Acknowledgments

  Heartfelt thanks to Sam, Maureen, Tom, Niti, Jennie, Dan, Dawn, and all the designers, illustrators, writers, and sales folk at Berkley Prime Crime. You all do so much! And a special thank-you to all the booksellers, reviewers, librarians, bloggers, and wonderful readers who have helped put Eggs Benedict Arnold and Bedeviled Eggs, the previous books in this series, on the New York Times bestsellers list. Who would have ever thought a couple of funky little cozies about three middle-aged women would land there?

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  C
hapter 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

  Favorite Recipes from the Cackleberry Club

  Sweet Tea Revenge

  Eggs in a Casket

  CHAPTER 1

  ICE pellets blasted the windows of the Cackleberry Club. Ticking and clicking like angry molecules, they crystallized on impact as the afternoon’s eerie whiteout morphed into a late afternoon snowstorm that rolled like a freight train out of Canada, flash-freezing the entire Midwest like a package of Mrs. Paul’s Fish Sticks.

  Inside the little café it remained cozy and warm. Afternoon tea on this Monday in mid-January had just concluded, the scant number of customers rushing off to grocery stores to stock up on milk, eggs, bread, beer, and lottery tickets in preparation for the coming storm.

  Suzanne Dietz, the entrepreneurial owner, part-time waitress, and major domo of the Cackleberry Club, paced the pegged wooden floor, worried that Old Man Winter had pretty much canceled her meeting. Clutching a hand-knit cashmere shawl around her shoulders, she pushed a hank of silvered blond and bobbed hair from her face. Even though Suzanne favored slim-fitting jeans with white shirts tied at the waist, she possessed a cool elegance and a quiet confidence. When her husband, Walter, had passed away some ten months earlier, she’d taken stock of her situation, rolled the dice, and, without too much fanfare or too many sleepless nights, opened the Cackleberry Club. Now her heartwarming little café was the go-to joint for Kindred locals as well as travelers who cruised Highway 65 and were drawn in for breakfast, pies, or afternoon tea.

  “The mercury is hovering at zero,” observed Toni, one of Suzanne’s two enthusiastic partners, “while our Suzanne hovers at the window.” Toni was string-bean skinny, favored cowgirl outfits, and piled her frizzled reddish blond hair atop her head like a wanton show pony. Even though Toni dressed like a hottie patottie twenty-two-year-old, she was no spring chicken. Toni was slaloming toward the high side of forty, just like her cohorts.

  “You sure Ben’s even coming?” asked Petra. She was the third member of the troika, a big-boned Scandinavian who wore old-fashioned aprons over jeans and loose-fitting blouses, and shucked her size ten feet into comfy bright green Crocs. Her kindly face and bright brown eyes were perpetually welcoming as well as reassuring.

  “He said he’d be here,” Suzanne replied. “Ben and I were supposed to nail down plans for Sunday’s Winter Blaze.” Ben was Ben Busacker, the new president of Kindred State Bank. Although Suzanne found him relatively easy to deal with, most of the residents in Kindred didn’t see it quite that way. Busacker was the company man for Mills City Banks, a large holding company that had recently swept in and taken over what had been their local bank. Busacker and Mills City Banks were said to be tougher than a Brazil nut, and had quickly earned a reputation for squeezing customers on payments, seizing properties, and being seriously parsimonious when it came to granting loans to small businesses.

  The tell-tale, high-pitched whine of a snowmobile sounded from behind the Cackleberry Club.

  “That must be Ben now,” Suzanne told Petra. “When he called earlier he said he was driving out on his new Ski-Doo. Going to test it out.”

  “Funny to think of a banker riding a snowmobile,” said Toni, a smile spreading across her attractive face. “Think he wears a three-piece suit and gold watch underneath his parka?”

  They were gathered in the café, a homespun place with wooden tables, a marble soda fountain counter salvaged from an old drugstore, and shelves populated with colorful ceramic chickens and roosters. All manner of eggs were whipped up for breakfast here, hence the Cackleberry Club moniker. But they also served tasty, creative lunches and elegant afternoon teas. As elegant as one could get in a rehabbed Spur station, that is.

  “I think Busacker’s trying hard to fit in,” said Petra, who always strove to find the good in people. “People in Kindred haven’t exactly welcomed him with open arms.”

  “His wife, Claudia, is awfully stuck-up,” said Toni. “She carries one of those fancy purses with Gs all over it.” She thought for a minute. “Or maybe it’s intertwined Cs.” She shrugged. “Whatever. Claudia walks around with her nose stuck in the air, and if you say something to her she acts like she smelled a cow pie or something.”

  “You think anybody who doesn’t wear a cowboy shirt is stuck-up,” said Petra.

  “No ma’am,” said Toni. “Ben and Claudia have acted uppity since the day they hit town. And now they’re trying to worm their way into civic clubs and things.” Toni grabbed a snickerdoodle cookie from a plate on the counter, popped it into her mouth, and chewed vigorously. “I just hope they don’t try to join our romance book club.”

  “I don’t think they’re the bodice-buster type,” Suzanne smiled, as the shrill of a second snowmobile filled the air.

  Petra was suddenly annoyed, her eyes rolling skyward in disapproval. “I absolutely detest the sound of those infernal machines. They’re constantly rip-roaring across the countryside and popping up out of ditches when you least expect them. Scaring the crud out of you.” Wiping her hands on her blue plaid apron, she added, “Really stupid if you ask me. And dangerous.”

  “Aw,” said Toni, “snowmobiles are fun.” She grabbed a striped scarf off a straight-back chair and wrapped it around her neck until she looked like a burrito. “Don’t tell me you never went ’biling.”

  Petra gazed at Toni with a mixture of amusement and horror on her broad face. “Never have and don’t care to start now.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, lady?” joked Toni.

  “At home in my sock drawer,” said Petra.

  “What we need to do,” Toni told her, “is bust you out of your rut. I’m gonna organize a moonlight trail ride, get a bunch of friends, and…”

  Vrrrrmmm! Crash! Whack!

  Teacups suddenly rattled in the cupboard, and the noise instantly grabbed everyone’s attention.

  “What the hale holy heck was that?” Petra yelped.

  “Sounds like somebody plowed their car right into the back of our café,” said Toni. “Maybe skidded on the ice?” She dashed through the swinging door into the kitchen and peered anxiously out the back window. “Huh, I don’t see anything.” She pressed her nose against the cold glass. “Then again, it’s darn near a total whiteout.”

  “That didn’t sound like a car,” said Suzanne, who’d followed her in. “Not nearly heavy enough.” More like a snowmobile? she wondered. Had Ben been hot-dogging through her back woods and overshot the parking lot? Lots of amateur riders underestimated the horsepower on those machines.

  “Something sure went smackeroo,” said Toni.

  “I better go out and take a look,” said Suzanne. “Make sure Ben’s all right.” She grabbed her parka off a wooden peg and struggled into it. Then she pulled on boots and wooly mittens, too.

  “Aren’t you the intrepid one,” said Petra, as she joined them. “You look like Admiral Byrd setting out to conquer the North Pole.”

  “Or maybe Big Bird,” Toni giggled.

  “Wish me luck either way,” said Suzanne, pulling open the back door.

  “Ehh!” cried Petra, shrinking back as wind and snow pellets whooshed in. “Cold!”

  But Suzanne had already slipped out the back door, where snow swirled in mini cyclonic arcs, prickling her face like so many tiny frozen needles.

  Doggone, she thought, pausing on the back steps. This was awful weather. Were they even gonna make it home tonight? Or would they have to camp out in the Knitting Nest?

  Then Suzanne cast her eyes toward the back of her property. Even though she couldn’t make out all that much through the curtain of falling snow, the high-pitched snowmobile whine had grown louder. Definitely an engine revving wildly. Grasping the handrail, Suzanne clambered down two snowy steps, then stumped across the parking lot where her Ford Taurus was pretty much just a hump under more humps of drifted snow.