Up in Smoke (Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Shannon VanBergen

  I was so angry in that moment that I wanted to beat her senseless. Grandma must have had the same thought because within seconds, she had lunged at Mitzie and knocked her down. The gun flew out of her hand and skidded across the floor. I picked it up and held it out, ready to shoot it if I had to. But Grandma and Mitzie were tangled up and I wasn’t sure I could hit Mitzie and not Grandma.

  A sound at the door startled me and I aimed the gun in that direction.

  “Put that down,” Detective Owen shouted at me as he reached down and grabbed Mitzie by the back of the head, pulling her off Grandma and onto her feet.

  Both women were bleeding and out of breath. A quick look at them showed that Grandma was clearly the winner in that battle—coming out of it with a few scratches and a busted lip compared with Mitzie’s very broken nose.

  Officer Tomlin, a portly fellow with a genuine smile, came over and took the gun from me. “It’s okay now,” he said gently. “You’re safe.”

  I turned to Grandma, threw my arms around her, and squeezed her tiny frame.

  She gasped for air. “I survived Mitzie only to be killed by my own granddaughter.”

  I let go. “You called me your granddaughter!” I exclaimed.

  “It’s because no one is in here listening.”

  She was right. Detective Owen had taken Mitzie outside and Officer Tomlin had followed. I didn’t care if no one heard. I heard it.

  “I think we should finish our little vacation,” Grandma said, pulling me close. “I think you and I deserve it.”

  “You won’t make me get a spray tan, will you?” I asked as we walked out.

  “It’s either that or a bikini wax.”

  “I’ll choose the spray tan.”

  “I had a feeling you would.”

  Epilogue

  When we returned from our trip to the spa a few days later, I scooped up Catalie Portman and took her to my room. I needed someone to talk to for a minute and over the last few weeks, I had come to trust her with my deepest darkest secrets.

  On my way back to my room, Grandma called for me from the couch where she was reading the mail.

  “Hey,” she said as I walked in. “I was thinking that maybe you and I should open a business together, now that I have the keys back to my first shop. It will take a few weeks to get Joe’s brother in there to clean it all up, but I think we can turn it into something fabulous.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to word things in a way that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for a while. I think I might head back home and start dealing with the messes I’ve made there.”

  Grandma’s face fell and I knew she was disappointed. “All right,” she said. “I can understand that. Before you go to your room, I have something for you.”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out a box.

  “What is it?” I asked, setting down the cat. I sat down next to Grandma Dean on the couch.

  “It’s a new phone.” She handed it to me. “It’s all set up and ready to go. I even made accounts for you on all the social media sites.”

  She pulled up her favorite one and showed me how it worked. “If you want to search for someone, just hit that little magnifying glass at the top and type in their name. It’s as easy as that!”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the phone. “Not just for this, but for opening your home to me.”

  Grandma Dean smiled. “You’ve come a long way in just a few weeks, but I’m not done with you yet.” Her eyes softened and turned glassy. “You’re welcome to come back any time and we’ll pick back up right where we left off.”

  I laughed. “Me with a blotchy, fading spray tan and you with two stitches in your lip?”

  Grandma Dean laughed with me. “Well, you can’t say your time in Florida wasn’t exciting!”

  I went to my room and Catalie Portman followed me. I climbed under the covers and Catalie snuggled next to me. I held the new phone in my hand. I tried to resist the urge to look up everyone I knew on the site Grandma Dean had shown me, but the temptation was too strong. I clicked on the app and it instantly opened. I typed in my mom’s name, Marilyn Parker. To my surprise, her picture popped up. I read through some of her posts and laughed. Suddenly, and for the first time since I’d left home, I missed her.

  I typed in my sister’s name, Amber Parker Cooper. There she was, smiling in the picture while her boys climbed all over her.

  My finger hovered over the magnifying glass on the screen for a minute before I typed in Bo’s name. My heart flooded with emotion as I stared at his profile picture when it came up. “I’m coming home,” I whispered to him.

  I scrolled down to see if he had posted anything about missing me and suddenly it felt like my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There, in the middle of his page, was a picture with him and Darcy McGee. She had her arm around him and it looked like they were laughing. I recognized their surroundings immediately. They were at the Wooden Pickle bar in our hometown.

  I turned off the phone and threw it at the end of the bed. He didn’t wait for me like he said he would. I laid down and put my head next to Catalie’s as I fought back tears. Could I blame him, though? I hadn’t exactly stayed away from the opposite sex while I had been here. I had fallen for Joe and had briefly considered falling for Owen, until he ticked me off.

  I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling for a minute. Then I got out of bed and walked into the living room.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said to Grandma Dean. “I think we should turn your old shop into a clothing store. We could call it the Chic Boutique.”

  Grandma looked at me, her face lighting up and a smile overtaking her face. “I love it! And we can have an entire clothing line just for cats!”

  It wasn’t exactly what I was picturing, but it would work.

  “Perfect,” I said to her. “On to our next adventure!”

  Thanks for reading Up in Smoke. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  If you would like to know about future cozy mysteries by me and the other authors at Fairfield Publishing, make sure to sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter. We will send you two FREE books just for signing up. All the details are on the next page.

  Lastly, at the very end of the book, I have included a couple previews of books by friends and fellow authors at Fairfield Publishing. First is a preview of A Pie to Die For by Stacey Alabaster - it’s part of the popular Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery series. Second is a preview of Murder in the Mountains by M. Lancaster. I really hope you like the samples. If you do, both books are available on Amazon.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/pie-to-die-for

  FairfieldPublishing.com/murder-in-mountains

  FAIRFIELD COZY MYSTERY NEWSLETTER

  Make sure you sign up for the Fairfield Cozy Mystery Newsletter so you can keep up with our latest releases. When you sign up, we will send you TWO FREE BOOKS!

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  Now, turn the page and check out the recipes and free previews.

  Preview: A Pie to Die For

  "But you don't understand, I use only the finest, organic ingredients." My voice was high-pitched as I pleaded my case to the policeman. Oh, this was just like an episode of Criminal Point. Hey, I wondered who the killer turned out to be. I shook my head. That's not important, Rachael, I scolded myself. What's important is getting yourself off this murder charge. Still, I hoped Pippa had recorded the ending of the episode.

  I tried to steady my breathing as Jackson—Detective Whitaker—entered the room and threw a folder on the table, before studying the contents as though he was cramming for a test he had to take the next day. He rubbed his temples and frowned.

  Is he even going to make eye contact with me? Is he just going to completely ignore the interaction we had at the fair? Pretend it never ev
en happened.

  "Jackson..." I started, before I was met with a steely glare. "Detective. Surely you can't think I had anything to do with this?"

  Jackson looked up at me slowly. "Had you ever had any contact with Mrs. Batters before today?"

  I shifted in my seat. "Yes," I had to admit. "I knew her a little from the store. She was always quite antagonistic towards me, but I'd never try to kill her!"

  "Witnesses near the scene said that you two had an argument." He gave me that same steely glare. Where was the charming, flirty, sweet guy I'd meet earlier? He was now buried beneath a suit and a huge attitude.

  "Well...it wasn't an argument...she was just...winding me up, like she always does."

  Jackson shot me a sharp look. "So, she was annoying you? Was she making you angry?"

  "Well... Well..." I tripped over my words. He was now making me nervous for an entirely different reason than he had earlier. Those butterflies were back, but now they felt like daggers.

  Come on, Rach. Everyone knows that the first suspect in Criminal Point is not the one that actually did it.

  But how many people had Jackson already interviewed? Maybe he was saving me for last. Gosh, maybe my cherry pie had actually killed the woman!

  "Answer the question please, Miss Robinson."

  "Not angry, no. I was just frustrated."

  "Frustrated?" A smile curled at his lips before he pounced. "Frustrated with Mrs. Batters?"

  "No! The situation. Come on—you were there!" I tried to appeal to his sympathies, but he remained a brick wall.

  "It doesn't matter whether I was there or not. That is entirely besides the point." He said the words a little too forcefully.

  I swallowed. "I couldn't get any customers to try my cakes, and Bakermatic was luring everyone away with their free samples." I stopped as my brows shot up involuntarily. "Jackson! Sorry, Detective. Mrs. Batters ate at Bakermatic as well!"

  My words came out in a stream of breathless blabber as I raced to get them out. "Bakermatic must be to blame! They cut corners, they use cheap ingredients. Oh, and I know how much Mrs. Batters loved their food! She was always eating there. Believe me, she made that very clear to me."

  Jackson sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Don't try to solve this case for us."

  I sealed my lips. Looks like I might have to at this rate.

  "We are investigating every place Mrs. Batters ate today. You don't need to worry about that."

  I leaned forward and banged my palm on the table. "But I do need to worry about it! This is my job, my livelihood…my life on the line. If people think I am to blame, that will be the final nail in my bakery's coffin!" Oh, what a day. And I'd thought it was bad enough that I hadn't gotten any customers at my stand. Now I was being accused of killing a woman!

  I could have sworn I saw a flicker of sympathy finally crawl across Jackson's face. He stood up and readjusted his tie, but he still refused to make full eye contact. "You're free to go, Miss Robinson," he said gently. There was that tone from earlier, finally. He seemed recognizable as a human at long last.

  "Really?"

  He nodded. "For the moment. But we might have some more questions for you later, so don't leave town."

  I tried to make eye contact with him as I left, squirreling out from underneath his arm as he held the door open for me, but he just kept staring at the floor.

  Did that mean he wasn't coming back to my bakery after all?

  Pippa was still waiting for me when I returned home later that evening. There was a chill in the air, which meant that I headed straight for a blanket and the fireplace when I finally crawled in through the door. Pippa shot me a sympathetic look as I curled up and crumbled in front of the flames. How had today gone so wrong, so quickly?

  "I recorded the last part of the show," Pippa said softly. "If you're up for watching it."

  I groaned and lay on the carpet, my back straight against the floor like I was a little kid. "I don't think I can stomach it after what I just went through. Can you believe it? Accusing ME of killing Mrs. Batters? When I know that Bakermatic is to blame. I mean, Pippa, they must be! But this detective wouldn't even listen to me when I was trying to explain Bakermatic's dodgy practices to him."

  Pippa leaned forward and took the lid off a pot, the smell of the brew hitting my nose. "Pippa, what is that?"

  She grinned and stirred it, which only made the smell worse. I leaned back and covered my nose. "Thought it might be a bit heavy for you. I basically took every herb, tea, and spice that you had in your cabinet and came up with this! I call it 'Pippa's Delight'!"

  "Yeah well, it doesn't sound too delightful." I sat up and scrunched up my nose. "Oh, what the heck—pour me a cup."

  "Are you sure?" Pippa asked with a cheeky grin.

  "Go on. I'll be brave."

  I braced myself as the brown liquid hit the white mug.

  It was as disgusting as I had imagined, but at least it made me laugh when the pungent concoction hit my tongue. Pippa always had a way of cheering me up. If it wasn't her unusual concoctions, or her ever changing hair color—red this week but pink the last, and purple a week before that—then it was her never-ending array of careers and job changes that entertained me and kept me on my toes. When you're trying to run your own business, forced to be responsible day in and day out, you have to live vicariously through some of your more free-spirited friends. And Pippa was definitely that: free-spirited.

  "Hey!" I said suddenly, as an idea began to brew in my brain. I didn't know if it was the tea that suddenly brought all my senses to life or what it was, but I found myself slamming my mug on the table with new found enthusiasm. "Pippa, have you got a job at the moment?" I could never keep up with Pippa's present state of employment.

  She shrugged as she kicked her feet up and lay back on the sofa. "Not really! I mean, I've got a couple of things in the works. Why's that?"

  I pondered for a moment. "Pippa, if you could get a job at Bakermatic, you could see first hand what they’re up to!" My voice was a rush of excitement as I clapped my hands together. "You would get to find out the ways they cut corners, the bad ingredients they use, and, if you were really lucky, you might even overhear someone say something about Mrs. Batters!"

  A gleam appeared in Pippa's green eyes. "Well, I do need a job, especially after today."

  I raced on. "Yes! And you've got plenty of experience working in cafes."

  "Yeah. I've worked in hundreds of places." She took a sip of the tea and managed to swallow it. She actually seemed to enjoy it.

  "I know you've got a lot of experience. You're sure to get the job. They’re always looking for part-timers." Unfortunately, Bakermatic was planning on expanding the storefront even further, and that meant they were looking for even more employees to fill their big yellow store. "Pippa, this is the perfect plan! We'll get you an application first thing in the morning. Then you can start investigating!"

  Pippa raised her eyebrows. "Investigating?"

  I nodded and lay my head back down on the carpet. "Criminal Point—Belldale Style! Bakery Investigation Unit! I will investigate and do what I can from my end as well! Perhaps I could talk to people from all the other food stalls! Oh, Pippa, we're going to make a crack team of detectives!"

  "The Bakery Detectives!"

  We both started giggling but, as the full weight of the day's events started to pile up on me, I felt my stomach tighten. It might seem fun to send Pippa in to spy on Bakermatic, but this was serious. My bakery, my livelihood, and even my own freedom depended on it.

  Thanks for reading a sample of my book, A Pie to Die For. I really hope you liked it. You can read the rest at:

  FairfieldPublishing.com/pie-to-die-for

  Or you can get it for free by signing up for our newsletter.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/cozy-newsletter/

  Make sure you turn to the next page for the preview of Murder in the Mountains.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/pie-to-die-for


  Preview: Murder in the Mountains

  Screams were not a normal part of the workday at Aspen Breeze. When Jennifer heard the anguished cry of the maid, she ran around the desk and sprinted out the door. Clint, not through with his breakfast, followed at her heels. The door to the room had been left open. The maid stood on the thick burgundy carpet in front of the unmade bed and pointed at the hot tub.

  Water remained in the tub, but it wasn’t swirling. The occupant, a red-haired, slightly chubby man whose name Jennifer had forgotten, was face down. His blue running shorts had changed to a darker blue due to dampness. Reddish colorations marred his throat. Another dark spot of blood mixed with hair around his right temple. Pale red splotches marred the water.

  For a moment, she felt like the ground had opened and she had fallen into blackness. Legs weakened. Knees buckled. She shook her head and a few incoherent syllables came from her mouth. Clint’s arm grasped her around her waist.

  “Step back. It’s okay,” he said.

  It was a silly thing to say, he later thought. Clearly, it was not okay, but in times of stress people will often say and do stupid things.

  He eased her backward, and then sat her down on the edge of the bed. He walked back and took a second look at the hot tub. He had seen dead bodies when he covered the police beat. It wasn’t a routine occurrence, but he had stood in the rain twice and on an asphalt pavement once as EMTs covered a dead man and lifted him into an ambulance.

  By the time he turned around, Jennifer was back on her feet and the color had returned to her cheeks.

  She patted her maid on the shoulder. “Okay, it’s all right. We have to call the police. You can go, Maria. Go to the office and lay down.”