Turkey Tortilla Taboo: A Paranormal Women's Fiction (Snips and Snails Cafe Murder and Mayhem Mysteries Book 7) by Elizabeth Rain

Author:Elizabeth Rain [Rain, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery, culinary, witches, Paranormal
Publisher: Elizabeth Rain
Published: 2022-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

THE DOOR TO SNIPS AND Snails swung open, and I looked up with a smile, expecting Jack. It was Friday early, and we were meeting first thing to grab takeout from Java’s before we headed to Escanaba for the day. I expected a long walk on the bay, a bit of sleuthy snooping, and later on, a romantic and worrisome candlelight dinner with Jack. I’d come by on my way to put the finishing touches on my Tai Sweet-on-you Potato Soup. Indications said it was guaranteed to make the next date of whoever enjoyed it very special indeed. Brownie would hang it at ten o’clock when he arrived for the day.

What filled the doorway instead had me blinking in alarm and confusion when his eyes tracked the crowd and zeroed in on me...and he started walking in my direction.

Officially, we were still closed. Absently, I decided that maybe I should have remembered to lock the door behind me. Larry Jokerbridge didn’t politely ask if he could come in, instead he pulled out the stool at the bar and plopped his impressive frame onto it with a sigh of disgust. The metal groaned beneath his weight. I stared at him in astonishment.

“Chief...what a surprise. I’d love to help you, but perhaps you missed the sign out front? We’re closed.”

On the far end of the counter, sprawled in all her queenly glory, was Gilly. She had been lightly snoring. Now she opened one lid, a bright blue eyeball tracking his progress.

Larry didn’t respond to my warning. Instead, he got right to the point. “I need to hire your services.”

That was the ticket. Gilly popped both eyes open and sat up, giving an indelicate shudder and sending fur flying in all directions. I sighed. I’d need to sanitize the counters before I left.

My brows arched. “Bertie handles the catering,” I said, misunderstanding him.

“I don’t want food. I need a detective.”

My eyes narrowed on the pompous blowhard, and I realized something alarming. The man was sweating. He was nervous. A niggling suspicion entered my brain.

“You’ve told me more times than I care to think about that I’m not one,” I reminded him. “So I fail to see how I can be of any help now,” I added sweetly.

“Forget what I said. Can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t be thick. I need you to handle my case and prove I’m innocent.”

“That should be a real trick. You’ve never been innocent a day in your life.”

“Stop playing around!” he ground out. I wanted to tell him I’d never been more serious where the blustering chief was concerned.

“Then stop talking in riddles and tell me what this is about so I can tell you no again, and you can leave. I’m busy here, and Jack will be by any minute,” I added for good measure.

“You can’t turn me down. I need your help!” he added desperately.

I wasn’t buying, and I had every intention of doing exactly that. I waited.

“Someone planted evidence in the campaign office. It points to

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