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  Recipe for Killing

  SHAWNA TAYLOR COZY MYSTERIES

  BOOK TWO

  DEBBIE RIES

  MIIDASU PUBLICATIONS

  Copyright © 2022 by Deborah K. Ries

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual business establishments, events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Beginnings

  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

  Chocolate Bomb Torte

  Excerpt: Hidden Prey by Cheyenne McCray

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Debbie Ries

  By Debbie writing YA as R.S. Collins

  About Debbie

  Beginnings

  Formerly called Sunset Peak, Arizona in Cooking up Murder, the real name of the town is Bisbee, Arizona, which I now use.

  Chapter One

  WEDNESDAY

  Chocolate heaven stretched out across the industrial countertop in my cafe’s small but cheerily peach-painted kitchen, and my butt broadened just by staring at each confection.

  “You did it again, Shawna.” My best friend, Tara Rainier, turned to me, her love of chocolate clear on her expression. “You have the best ideas.”

  “I have my moments.” I breathed in the wonderful smell of chocolate and tried not to drool over the ten desserts provided by myself and members of my recipe club. My café, Wild Child Eatery, had closed at three as usual and the meeting started at four.

  Chatter filled the room from the members of the club filling my café’s kitchen that had stainless-steel appliances and an adobe-colored tile floor. Their dress ranged from jeans with Ts like me, to something you’d wear for a party, like Tara. It wasn’t a party, but so far we were having fun. This was a meeting where we all brought chocolate desserts to try out before we made more to donate to the Chocolate Affaire, the proceeds going to the county library.

  Tara owned the fine dining restaurant up the street called Spice. She leaned in close to me and her peacock feather earrings brushed the shoulders of her black satin sheath, the hem of which reached the tops of her knee-high boots. She dressed in unusual outfits, often with strange accessories, and always rocked it.

  Her heavy pewter peacock necklace swung forward with her movements, and I caught the scent of cinnamon and apples. “Shawna, I’m going to sneak off with all ten of your chocolate bomb tortes and eat them all by myself.”

  I laughed and rested my backside against a countertop, in front of an industrial mixer. I fiddled with the end of my long golden-brown plait that I’d French braided that morning. “I’m having some of everything. I don’t care if I gain fifteen pounds.”

  “It’ll be worth it.” Jessica Russo, who was a couple of inches shorter than my five-seven, let out the kind of laugh that always induced those around her to join in. She was energetic, outgoing, and referred to herself as a sassy-bossy brunette. She owned the dress shop across the street from my café.

  “Such a good idea to have our first recipe club meeting all about chocolate.” Tara gave a happy sigh. “The only thing missing are chocolate martinis.”

  “The three of us should enjoy those martinis at Bear’s and soon.” I smiled at Tara’s and Jessica’s enthusiastic nods. “For today, it will be great to pre-taste everyone’s offering for the Chocolate Affaire, which lands on Valentine’s Day this year.”

  “It’ll be like Christmas in February,” Jessica said to Tara. “I’ll be the biggest buyer—Tony will get whatever I want.”

  “Watch out because I might get to it all first.” Tara grinned then glanced from Jessica to me. “I have to buy my own roses, champagne, and chocolates since I’m the only one of the three of us without a valentine.”

  My cheeks burned. “Don’t look at me. I’m valentine-less, too.”

  Jessica cocked her head to the side, her long dark hair falling over one shoulder in lovely waves. “Girls, am I missing something?”

  “No.” I glared at Tara before smiling at Jessica. “I need to see if everyone is ready to start.” I was not about to let Tara bring up something I’d much rather not talk about.

  I moved away from my friends and searched the kitchen with my gaze, hoping to see that the social aspect of the club was working. Mutterings from across the room caused me to furrow my brow.

  Mary Ann glanced at Alicia Cosgrave then away. “Witch.”

  “She’s nothing but a thief,” Esteban said to Sandy as they walked past Alicia.

  Sandy scowled and looked over her shoulder. “I can trust her as far as I could throw her.”

  Alicia Cosgrave stood apart from the rest, yet she looked calm and collected. Still, the beautiful blonde, who no doubt had men lapping at her feet, appeared lonely. I had known her when we were in middle school, but we went separate ways in high school. She fell in with a rough crowd, while I spent my time with friends who didn’t belong to any group in particular.

  You couldn’t say I knew her anymore. I had no idea why she was apart from everyone else.

  Sophie brushed past Alicia and muttered, “Tramp.”

  I frowned and hesitated then started to walk toward Alicia. I came up short when my phone rang.

  I didn’t check caller ID, big mistake, and I answered with, “This is Shawna.”

  “Hey, babe.”

  Heat crawled up my neck as I recognized the voice of my ex-boyfriend, the worm who had cheated on me, and who I had christened “the Idiot.”

  I turned so that I faced away from the nine other people in the kitchen. “What do you want, Greg?”

  “What way is that to talk to someone who cares about you like I do?” He did a good job of faking the hurt in his tone.

  I snorted, not caring if it didn’t sound ladylike. “Oh, you cared about me. That’s why you cheated, right? Because you cared sooo much.”

  He ignored that. “I helped you start your café, and now I need your help.”

  “What?” I tried not to let my voice carry as I spoke with incredulity. “You had nothing to do with me starting my café. Go back under the rock you crawled from.”

  “I need cash.” He went on smoothly. “Not much. A couple thousand will do.”

  I pulled my phone away and glared at it before putting it back to my ear. “Not on your dying breath.”

  I ended the call, put the phone on vibrate, and stuffed it into the front pocket of my faded blue jeans. My phone vibrated almost immediately in my pocket, no doubt the Idiot, and I didn’t intend to check.

  After I composed my features, I turned back to face the group, and jumped. Alicia stood behind me.

  She cocked her head to the side, her butter-blonde ringlets bouncing over her shoulder with the movement. “I’m glad you dumped Greg Bass. He’s a jerk.”

  I blinked. Had I spoken loud enough for her to hear my whole conversation? Why would she care? She’d known Gr
eg from when we were in school, but outside that, I had no idea.

  And I didn’t want to know.

  “Are you ready for chocolate overkill?” I moved toward the group and Alicia fell into step beside me, her high heels clicking on the floor. “Everything looks and smells wonderful. What did you bring?”

  “Candy.” She flashed a grin that lit up her fine features. “What kind is a surprise.”

  That could be good or bad, I supposed. I clapped my hands to get the group’s attention and the kitchen quieted. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get to tasting.”

  “About time.” Ray Anton, one-half of a Hollywoodesque couple, spoke as if to an employee late to work.

  I’d seen Ray come out of his second-floor office today, just up the street from my café. Construction had taken up the bottom floor of his building, supposedly a new restaurant. The signs had just been put up yesterday but were covered, as if to be unveiled soon. Ray had glared at it—apparently, he wasn’t pleased about a restaurant going in beneath his insurance business.

  Sophie, his platinum-haired wife, elbowed him. She managed to look gorgeous even while wearing a scowl on her features. “This is a social club, not a business meeting. We’re here to have fun—for a change.”

  I gestured to the long kitchen counter filled with chocolate confections. “We’re going to sample each contribution to tonight’s decadent meeting and fill out questionnaires in the app as we go.” I nodded toward the spread. “Remember there are ten of us.”

  I went on. “The dessert with the most votes will be showcased on my menu next month.” I smiled. “The second and third-place desserts will be featured in the following months.”

  The group made excited murmurs—everyone but Ray, who clearly hadn’t wanted to be here to begin with. Heaven knew why his wife had pushed him into becoming a member. This was not only a place to share dishes, but a place to socialize as well.

  Still, Ray had brought the chocolate-covered strawberries that he had supposedly made himself, and they looked delicious. Sophie had brought the chocolate macarons.

  “It all looks wonderful.” Sandy Chen leaned forward to get a closer look at the table, her gleaming dark hair swinging into her face. “I’m ready to start.”

  Tara passed out the plates. All my dinnerware was white stoneware, in assorted styles and patterns. My glassware, on the other hand, were in bright colors that were also mismatched. I had chosen dinnerplates to make sure members had enough room to sample every offering—ten desserts were a lot to consume in one evening.

  Jessica provided napkins and I reminded each club member to open the predetermined questionnaire app on their phones for each member’s contribution. I had added them in earlier, since I’d had everyone indicate what items they were bringing ahead of time. Alicia was the only one who hadn’t told me, so hers was a fill-in-the-blank. I had the appropriate knives, cake servers, serving spoons and forks on the table for the treats.

  Mrs. Martha Jenkins craned her birdlike neck, her half-moon spectacles resting on a crystal-beaded chain below her throat. “What are those tiny chocolate balls?”

  Alicia moved closer to the eighty-two-year-old woman and murmured, “That’s the candy I made.”

  Mrs. Jenkins, who’d had help from Sandy on the use of her phone app, lifted her chin and offered her back to Alicia, then grumbled something under her breath. It was uncharacteristically rude for a kind old lady like Martha to snub the younger woman.

  Despite her clear distaste for Alicia, Mrs. Jenkins spooned a few of the candy pieces onto her plate. They rolled around like BBs and threatened to run off the edge of the dish before she added more selections.

  I took up the rear of the line, behind Jessica and Tara. I added Mrs. Jenkins’s angel food cake, Sandy’s brownie cupcakes, Sophie’s macarons, Ray’s chocolate-covered strawberries, Mary Ann’s glazed doughnuts, Esteban’s tart, Jessica’s swirl cheesecake with an espresso drizzle, and Tara’s truffles.

  Death by chocolate. What a way to go.

  Murmurs of appreciation floated around the room from those with full plates, along with the tapping of stylus pens as each person jotted notes in their apps.

  I finished loading my plate and stared happily down at it. I chose a few of the mini balls to start my tasting experience and popped them into my mouth. I rolled them around with my tongue and let the chocolate melt in my mouth. I cocked my head to the side, trying to determine what remained. I chewed and it crunched between my teeth. The coating had been smooth and good. I could only describe what was left as “weird.”

  “These balls are creamy milk chocolate on the outside but have an odd crunch on the inside.” Sandy’s voice rose above the others as she voiced my thoughts. “They’re really good. Who made these? What’s the crunch?”

  Alicia moved away from the table and smirked. “They’re chocolate-covered ants.”

  The room went silent.

  I thought I heard retching sounds coming from Mary Ann.

  Esteban and Sandy ran to the industrial sink and spit out the ants.

  Ray and Sophie stood over one garbage can dumping theirs, making comments that they were glad they hadn’t eaten them.

  Mrs. Jenkins looked horrified and used her fork to scrape them off her plate into a dish tub.

  I looked at the few remaining balls on my plate trapped between a doughnut and the cheesecake.

  I cleared my throat. “That’s an unusual dessert, Alicia, although they are considered a delicacy…elsewhere. How much did you make for the event?”

  She shrugged, with what amounted to an evil grin. “I thought I’d try these out on the group. I might do brownies for the Chocolate Affaire.”

  Alicia had been mischievous when we were young, but this hadn’t been appropriate. I couldn’t do anything about it, so I needed to press forward and try to elevate everyone’s mood.

  “Okay then.” I smiled brightly around the room. “Has anyone tried the truffles?”

  Alicia moved away from the table with her now full plate, and the woman who had disturbed our palates stood apart from everyone else. I had always thought Alicia to be nice—at least she had been in middle school.

  Between the dessert she had made exclusively for our group, her impish behavior, and the way everyone had ignored her—was there more to the adult Alicia than met the eye? Did everyone else know something I didn’t?

  Jessica sidled up to me. “I ate all the ants before she made her announcement. I swear I’ll kick her butt.” Her skin had paled to a faint green. “First, I’m going to be sick.”

  “Whoa on the butt-kicking.” I rested my hand on her back. “Try the ant-free options. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

  “I say so.” I gave an encouraging smile. “Your stomach will be fine.” I hoped it would be.

  “Figures she would do something like this,” Jessica said with an angry glance at Alicia. “She’s not only a thief, but a royal jerk.”

  Thief? Before I could ask Jessica about her comment, a sudden clamor broke out in the street behind my café. Loud exclamations and shouting drew the attention of everyone in the kitchen.

  Sandy set down her plate, hurried to the window, and peered out. She turned back to face us, her eyes wide. “You’ve got to see this. You’ll never believe who’s out in the street.”

  Everyone moved toward her. I reached the door first and opened it. Other club members joined me, and nearly pushed me out into the spectacle.

  “I can’t believe he’s right here in front of us,” Alicia said breathlessly as she pushed her way to the front, next to me. “I’ve always had a crush on him.”

  I couldn’t believe it was him, either. I stared, fascinated as I looked upon the famous movie star, who had played a pirate that rocked eyeliner better than most women.

  Everyone knew the actor had a home in Bisbee, where it was quiet enough for him to escape for peace. Most didn’t know exactly where he lived, just knew
he was a sometime resident. This was the only time I’d ever heard of him walking around in public, much less seen him, and he’d never had a film crew following him around town before today.

  This was more than odd.

  People caught him on video and took pictures with their cell phones, and two cameramen followed him. The actor waved and gave what looked like a forced smile, then turned and headed up Subway Street, past a telephone pole papered with flyers and peppered with thousands of staples from use over the past decades. He continued to where this street joined with Main Street, the clamor following him.

  One of the cameramen paused in front of our door, taking a shot.

  “Excuse me,” I called out to him. “What’s going on?”

  The man spared me a glance. “He’s here for the grand opening of Copper Plate, the new bar-restaurant on Main.” And then he moved on with the crowd.

  Copper Plate. So that was the name of the place that would be competition for Tara more than for me since I closed at three in the afternoon. Her restaurant, Spice, opened at four and stayed open until ten p.m.

  “Hopefully he’s not going to be a regular at the Plate,” Tara said. “Everyone will go there just to see him.”

  “No worries, Tara.” I smiled at her. “No one can beat your fine cuisine.”

  When the crowd left Subway Street, we retreated from our gawking positions. I shut the door firmly and joined everyone in retrieving our plates and we returned to taste-testing all the desserts.

  Tara moved closer when I had my plate in hand. She rolled her eyes. “I’m still not over the joke Alicia played on our group. Never knew she could be sadistic, but then I barely know her.” She gestured to her plate. “Try Jessica’s chocolate swirl cheesecake. It’s excellent.”