ANOTHER BODY
Hope grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, with Jane and Claire following. They all gathered at the back of the vehicle and set off together toward the main entrance. But a familiar-looking Jaguar parked in the rear lot caught Hope’s attention.
Why was it parked all the way back there when there were plenty of spaces in the main lot? The driver’s side door was open. Before she realized it, she’d broken away from her group and was heading toward the lone car.
“Hope! Come on!” Drew broke into a jog toward her. “The napkin, remember? Meg’s team will get inside first. Norrie can’t win!”
“Just a minute.” She reached the car, and the vanity license plate, “Lionel #1,” confirmed the car belonged to Lionel Whitcomb. What was it doing there with the driver’s door open? Where was Lionel? Why had he parked all the way up there? Hope continued around the front of the car and came to a hard stop.
She gasped, and one hand flew up to cover her mouth, while the other stretched out and planted itself on the hood of the car to steady her body.
She’d discovered why she hadn’t seen Lionel.
He was lying on the asphalt with a large red stain spread out on his white shirt . . .
Books by Debra Sennefelder
Food Blogger Mysteries
THE UNINVITED CORPSE
THE HIDDEN CORPSE
THREE WIDOWS AND A CORPSE
Resale Boutique Mysteries
MURDER WEARS A LITTLE BLACK DRESS
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Three Widows and a Corpse
Debra Sennefelder
KENSINGTON BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
ANOTHER BODY
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Recipes
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by Debra Sennefelder
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1594-4
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1597-5 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1597-7 (eBook)
To my friend Jennifer.
Thank you for your friendship, your encouragement,
and the lemons.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my readers and the Cozy Mystery Crew for your support, kind words, and for buying my books. Thank you to my critique partner, Ellie Ashe, for helping shape this book into what it is today. Thank you to fellow authors and friends Jenny Kale, Linda Reilly, Shari Randall, and Lena Gregory for your inspiration, support and knowing just the right thing to say when the writing gets hard. I’d be remiss if I didn’t give a big shout-out to an amazing group of authors, many who’ve become my friends that joined me in the path to publication, Authors ’18. We met online thanks to Dianne Freeman, and together we navigated the world of publishing. Thank you to my editor, John Scognamiglio, Arthur Maisel, Lauren Jernigan, Larissa Ackerman, Ross Plotkin, and the whole team at Kensington for bringing Three Widows and a Corpse to publication. Thank you to my agent, Dawn Dowdle. And thank you for choosing to read this book.
Chapter One
Hope Early caught her reflection in the side window of the main entrance and leaned in for a closer look. With a critical eye, she inspected herself from top to bottom. Again. Did she look like the professional food blogger she was? Did she look too eager? Did she look as nervous as she felt?
I’ve got this.
She looked successful and efficient and ready to take on anything the staff of Cooking Now magazine could throw at her.
So why was she a bundle of frazzled nerves?
Because it was like the first day of school.
She pressed the door buzzer and tamped down her nerves. For goodness’ sake, before turning her food blog into a full-time career, she’d spent years as a magazine editor. She released the button and chided herself for being ridiculous.
A glimpse of someone walking toward the door caught her attention. She pulled back from the window and inhaled a deep breath.
The temperature had to have soared at least another ten degrees from the time Hope left her house. For her first day, she’d chosen a white, button-down shirt, navy pants, and her most comfortable pair of shoes. When she headed out her front door, she was confident she’d selected a perfect balance of professionalism and comfort, but standing out in the late-August heat, she doubted her choice because the shirt now clung to her back.
The door opened and a blue-haired, multipierced twentysomething appeared. An intern, Hope guessed.
“You’re Hope Early?” She opened the door wider. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Kylie. Follow me.”
Hope stepped into the vestibule and welcomed the chill of the air conditioner. She followed the young woman, who’d found a balance in her own appearance by marrying the edginess of unusual hair coloring and multiple piercings with test-kitchen-appropriate clothing—black pants, a white shirt, and an apron with the magazine’s logo on it.
At the door to the kitchen, Kylie punched in her code. “You’ll get your own code sometime today.” She held the door open for Hope and gestured for her to enter.
It’d been a long time since Hope had been in a test kitchen. When she was the editor of Meals in Minutes, she’d visited their kitchen at least once a week for recipe tastings. The nervousness she’d experienced moments before had disappeared, and in its place was a twinge of nostalgia. She hadn’t realized how much she missed being part of a magazine.
Beyond the well-appointed test kitchen of stainless-steel appliances, bright lights, and thousands of dollars’ worth of photography equipment was the familiar buzz creating a magazine generated. The ideas, the disasters, the deadlines, the creative differences. It was what had fed Hope for years and, in one sweeping glance, what she yearned for again.
She shook off the thought. Her decision to leave publishing after her loss on the reality baking competition show The Sweet Taste of Success was the right one. As a food blogger, she was h
er own boss and in control of every aspect of her business. Like the collaboration with Cooking Now, which had been a year in the making.
Hope had worked on a sponsorship with a spice company, which led to a few articles written for Cooking Now’s website over the span of several months. That handful of articles led to this assignment to develop healthy, easy-to-make recipes. A mixture of giddiness and butterflies swirled in her belly and she smiled. But while it felt like home, she needed to remember this was only a visit.
The test kitchen was a combination food prep area, photo studio, and office for the main staff of the magazine, all of whom were busy starting their day. Hope walked farther into the kitchen and passed a wall of stainless-steel shelves loaded with a variety of bowls, plates, pots, and glassware. One by one, the heads of the magazine staff looked up and appraised Hope.
Yeah, it felt like the first day of school.
“Hope’s here!” After her announcement, Kylie broke away and went to one of the smaller kitchens, leaving Hope standing alone in the middle of the open space.
“Thank you for the announcement, Kylie.” A woman about Hope’s age pushed back her chair from her desk and stood. Hope recognized her as May Henshaw, senior editor, from her photograph in the magazine, though an irritated twist to her lips replaced the broad smile she’d flashed for her readers. Hope guessed the editor didn’t approve of Kylie’s very informal introduction.
“Good morning, May. I’m happy to meet you in person. I’m very excited to be here.” Hope extended her hand to the editor.
While they’d worked together previously on articles for the website, they’d never met in person. May stood a couple of inches taller than Hope, and her blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun and her crisp white chef’s jacket was buttoned up over a pair of black pants.
“Of course you are.” After the firm handshake, May shifted her body so she had a full view of the test kitchen. “We’ve never collaborated with a food blogger before. Let me introduce you, and then you can start work. I hope you’ll be able to adjust to our schedule.” May led Hope over to the cluster of desks. “It’s imperative we stay on schedule.”
“I understand. I was a magazine editor.” Hope wasn’t sure why she said that. May knew her credentials.
“Meals in Minutes. I recall. Cute magazine.”
Cute magazine? Now, if that wasn’t a backhanded compliment, Hope didn’t know what was. Yes, Meals in Minutes focused on shortcuts in the kitchen for the harried masses, but the recipes were solid, practical, and delicious. Hope remembered she was only here for a short time and it was best not to rock the boat.
“Hope, this is Kitty Ellis. She’s our test kitchen manager and we’d be lost without her.” May led Hope to a row of desks pressed up against a whitewashed exterior wall and bordered by a long section of more stainless-steel shelving filled with bins of linens, utensils, and flatware.
“Hi, Hope. I love your blog.” Kitty extended her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Hope said.
“You’ll work here.” May pointed to the desk beside Kitty. “You’ll find you’re all set up for emails and you’ll also find one with all the information you need about working here. Get yourself settled and then Kitty will get you situated in one of the kitchens so you can start working. Remember, this isn’t your home kitchen. We’re not here to socialize. We all have assignments and deadlines.”
With a firm nod, May turned and returned to her desk, clicking on her keyboard and then sipping her coffee.
Kitty smiled and leaned forward. “She’s really not too bad.”
“You sure?”
Hope slipped her tote bag off her shoulder and spent the next twenty minutes reviewing her emails and confirming her new passcode for the building.
Cooking Now magazine was located on the campus of Great Living Publications, just thirty minutes from Jefferson, making the commute easy, but not as easy as her current one. She went from her bedroom to her kitchen to her home office, definitely a sweet commute.
Though the opportunity to work with Cooking Now was too good to pass up and commuting for a few days wasn’t the worst thing. However, leaving her dog, Bigelow, home alone with the newest addition to the family, a fluffy white cat named Princess, was a little nerve-racking. Both of them had done some damage in the house as they worked through their personal boundaries. She hoped they called a cease-fire and slept all day.
“I stocked your refrigerator with all the ingredients you requested. You’re all set to start whenever you’d like. In the back room, across from the studio kitchen, you’ll find coffee and tea.” Kitty had approached Hope’s desk, ready to show her to her workstation.
Hope gathered her papers together. The butterflies in her belly returned. She’d been working on the recipes for the magazine for weeks to get them perfect for the six-page spread in the January issue. Her name would be prominently displayed, giving her a further reach to attract new readers to her blog. The recipes needed to be better than perfect.
Yeah, no pressure there.
“You run a very efficient kitchen.” Hope stood and followed Kitty to the middle kitchenette. The cooking area was fully equipped with everything she needed, including top-of-the-line appliances.
“Thank you. I love my job.” Kitty grabbed an apron from a shelf and handed it to Hope. “Let me know if you need anything.” She walked back to her desk.
Hope glanced at the logo on the apron. Two large C and N letters with the magazine’s name in smaller print and the tagline, cook with confidence & flavor. The magazine had gone through a major facelift five years earlier and shifted the original mission from talking to a narrow group of advanced cooks to reaching a broader group of beginner-to-intermediate cooks. Coinciding with an editorial shift, a staffing change had happened. New editors came on board with fresh ideas. From what Hope had seen so far, it looked like the publisher made the right decision.
After tying on the apron, she looked around her kitchenette. She took in a deep inhale.
Time to get to work.
She fell into her rhythm of cooking and blocked out the sounds of the test kitchen. She didn’t hear the chatter or the beeping of appliances or the hurried footsteps from one end of the room to the other. She was fully in her zone, focused on the recipes, and tuned out all the distractions around her. The result was two whole-grain noodle bowls and a smoothie.
The focus of the January issue was a healthy restart, and Hope wanted to make sure each recipe she contributed wasn’t only healthy and delicious but easy to make so any level cook could be successful, yet a little challenging so a more experienced cook could feel accomplished. It was a fine line to walk, but a necessary one if she wanted to continue working with the magazine in the future.
She finished chopping a bunch of chives and then moved over to the pot and ladled out a cup of vegetable broth over a bowl of noodles. She gingerly sprinkled the chives over the nutritious soup. She smiled with satisfaction.
“Looks delicious.” Kitty had come up behind Hope. “I think your feature is going to be a hit with our readers. It’s fresh.”
“Thank you. After a month of holiday baking and eating, by the time January rolls around, I’m looking for light-and-easy meals.”
“The annual sugar cookie coma. I’m very familiar with it.” Kitty laughed. “I can’t even think of the holidays. It’s too freakin’ hot. The humidity is a killer. Still hard to get used to. I came over to see if you’d like to join me for lunch. I can show you where the cafeteria is.”
“Sounds good. Let me clean up quick.” Hope popped the bowl of soup into the refrigerator and wiped the countertop after setting her pots and utensils in the dishwasher. After untying her apron, she grabbed her tote bag from her desk and joined Kitty on the walk to the main building.
To get to the two-story building where the editorial offices were located, they crossed the narrow road that stretched from one end of the campus to the other and traveled along a pav
ed path bordered with well-maintained gardens. They chatted all the way to the entrance of the building. It looked like Hope had made a work friend already. The dread that had settled in her as she drove to the magazine about not fitting in had vanished.
The lunch menu in the Great Living cafeteria was impressive. Three prepared hot dishes, along with an endless combination of sandwiches and a salad bar. Staring at the chalkboard menu, Hope had a hard time deciding what to order. She chose a grilled chicken salad with dressing on the side.
“Do you always eat so healthy?” Kitty glanced at her grilled cheese and ham panini with a side of chips.
Hope wished. “No. I’m in the middle of baking pies for my blog, which means I need to watch what I eat.”
Hope followed Kitty to a table for two in the sunroom, which looked out onto the patio and a small pond filled with koi. The grounds of the publishing company were idyllic. It definitely wasn’t home, but she could see herself working here.
“How long have you worked here?” Hope drizzled the vinaigrette dressing on her salad.
After swallowing her bite of panini, Kitty reached for her soda. “About a year. I was a little hesitant to move out of the city, but once I did, I fell in love with the area.”
“It’s very different from working in the city. I mean, look at the pond.” Hope gestured out the window as a bird flew by.
“You’re originally from around here, right?”
Hope returned her attention to the younger woman seated across from her. Kitty’s strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her full face had only a hint of makeup, mascara, and eyeliner.
“I was born and raised in Jefferson and moved back a couple of years ago.”
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