Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry by Denise Swanson

Author:Denise Swanson [Swanson, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Fiction, General, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9780451223685
Google: yfrqRiM1UJ0C
Amazon: B006Z43Z5W
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2007-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Beat Egg Whites Until Stiff

Shit! Skye glared at her watch. If only sheer willpower could make the hands move backward. It was nearly five minutes past the time her casserole was supposed to come out of the oven. Just what she needed—another ruined mess.

But surely anyone would agree that finding out who murdered Cherry was more important than creating the perfect entrée. Skye paused and bit her lip. Well, anyone but her mother. With May’s angry yet disappointed face in mind, Skye turned on her heels and raced across the warehouse to the One-Dish Meals area. Making a tight turn at the end of the row, she skidded into her cubicle.

The first thing Skye saw was Bunny sitting on a folding chair painting her nails, wearing a red leather minidress and matching ankle boots laced with white silk ribbons. Not a good look for someone Bunny’s age, but the redhead had never appeared more beautiful to Skye. Surely Bunny would have taken the dish from the oven when the timer went off.

Skye’s smile faltered when she realized the counter was empty—no sign of the Chicken Supreme. Still, the timer wasn’t pinging, so Bunny must have stopped it.

Skye let her gaze slip to the oven just in time to see twin columns of smoke curl upward like elephant tusks. She yelped, ran forward, and twisted the dial to the OFF position. Seizing a potholder, she flung open the door and grabbed the Corning Ware dish.

This time her scream was louder than a the tornado siren, as the casserole slipped from her hands to the floor; elbow macaroni, chunks of chicken, and cheese splattered the cubicle. Skye gazed at the oozing cabinets and closed her eyes. The orange and white mess was revolting!

As she tried to pull herself together, the smell of scorched Velveeta clogged her throat. Her eyelids flew open and she whipped around to look back at the stove. The smoke had turned from gray to black and was billowing toward the ceiling. Somehow, although the arrow on the dial was aligned to the word OFF, the oven’s broiler had been ignited.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Some of the ingredients must have bubbled over while baking and were continuing to burn. Before she could react, the overhead sprinklers chirped, then spurted like exploded water balloons.

Bunny bounced off her chair and popped out of the cubicle like refrigerator biscuits from a tube. Skye covered her head with both arms and dashed after her. The shrieks of Skye’s neighboring finalists accompanied her flight.

Within seconds contest staff came running from the four corners of the warehouse. The first to arrive slid into Skye’s booth as if he were making a grand slam home run; others followed, looking like cars piling up on I-55 in a snowstorm.

Grandma Sal’s son, Jared, picked himself up from the heap and turned on Skye. “What the fu …” He caught himself and took a deep breath. Speaking between clenched teeth, he gritted, “What happened?”

He drummed his fingers against the partition as Skye explained, pointing to the offending dial.

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