Fudge Frosting Murder by Daniel Carson

Author:Daniel Carson [Carson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Daniel Carson Books
Published: 2023-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Here’s the thing those cop shows on television never tell you about solving murders. It sure doesn’t happen overnight. Apparently, in the real world, murders occur in an instant, but solving them takes a wee bit more time. The other thing that happens in the real world is . . . well, the real world. And so, after my bold proclamation to Jamal that I, the great Delaney Dodge, better get to work because I had “all the things to do” including the solving of murder, all those things to do came crashing down on me.

In no particular order . . . My phone calls and emails to Thomas Karlberg, Esquire went unanswered and ignored. My editor, Mandy, called and said both she and the publisher loved the newest chapter and the new direction of the book so much that the great muckety-mucks in New York were aggressively pushing up the timeline for publication. And when she told me just how aggressive they planned to be, I almost threw up.

“But I can’t possibly,” I explained to Mandy. Then she explained how big the first print run was going to be. That it was the kind of print run they do when they know they’ve got a sure-fire New York Times Best Seller on their hands. And so, I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could.

Then, right on cue, our walk-in fridge stopped working, which we then figured out was due to an electrical issue. An electrical issue that affected other parts of the bakery as well. And when I called our electrician, Leroy, he said it would be Monday or Tuesday at the earliest. And when I asked Leroy if he could make it any sooner than that, you know what he said?

“I can’t possibly.”

Laura Lee and I spent the rest of Saturday finding homes around town for our refrigerated goods. Then it was back to running the bakery, albeit on less than adequate power, and putting out a variety of fires that kept popping up like plastic critters in that Whack-a-Mole game at Chuck E. Cheese. And when at the end of a very long and stressful Saturday I dragged myself home, I didn’t have enough energy for the proper investigation of murder. All I had time for was this new, aggressive publishing schedule, and I had nobody to blame but myself. The recent shift in the nature of my manuscript had created a buzz in New York that I’d never anticipated. Mandy started calling me “Frankenstein” because in her words, I had created a monster.

Sunday was more of the same. Much more. You see, Laura Lee and I had to fill a last-minute order for pastries at the Lutheran Church that day. Apparently, the head of that week’s social had forgotten that food was a prerequisite to actually enticing churchgoers into being social, and so it was up to the Baking School Bakery to save the day. And we did. With one hand tied behind our backs.

Early Monday morning, I dragged my tired carcass to work and was uplifted by two things.

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