Murder at Biscuit Village

By Cassandra Clairage

Mystery writer Caro Austin has never had the pleasure of dining at Biscuit Village. Her first meal there proves memorable for more than the menu; the short order cook is murdered just minutes after she and Prentiss leave the eatery. The police are calling it robbery, but Caro isn't so sure. Join Caro as she rumbles around in the skeletons of a very rich family's closet in her attempt to ferret out the truth that may just signal the end of her own romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Clairage
• Release date: Jun 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310141201

Cassandra Clairage

Award winning Alabama author Cassandra Clairage lives in historic downtown Athens with her husband and two Maine Coon cats. You'll find her works on Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and other sites featuring the finest in modern fiction.

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Caro Loves a Mystery: Murder at Biscuit Village

Copyright 2014 Cassandra Clairage

Smashwords Edition

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So, how did you like the play? It’s not every day a London touring company finds its way to Riverton.

I loved the performance, just not the weather. Caro looked at the snow building up along the median and shoulders of the highway, silently waiting for a victim to send into oblivion. She realized her phobia was showing. Well, Prentiss had to discover her weaknesses sooner or later.

It’s still too warm to stick to much. Let’s grab a bite. What’ll it be, Shoney’s or Biscuit Village?

Ummm. Biscuit Village, I guess. I’ve never tried it.

Really? Prentiss looked surprised. Then you’re in for your second treat of the night.

Prentiss Tompkins pulled his roadster into the almost deserted parking lot. He’d never seen the small eatery when it wasn’t covered up. Maybe the storm was going to be worse than he thought. Holding the glass door for Caro, he looked around. They certainly had their pick of booths tonight. Only three customers remained in the normally busy diner; a police officer slumped in a back booth while a teenage couple twirled on stools at the counter. Prentiss steered Caro to a booth on the deserted side of the dining room. It was beginning to look like it might be a romantic evening.

Caro slid onto a red imitation leather bench, and Prentiss followed, pressing his leg against hers. The booths had small table top jukeboxes, and Caro casually flipped through the listings. George Jones was singing some song abut dying, and Caro decided she’d rather hear something just a little more upbeat before she and Prentiss again faced driving into the storm. She fairly squealed with delight as she saw Rock and Roll Doctor listed amid the country and middle-of-the-road selections.

Fifty cents later, Caro was lost in a private world of Lowell George, while Prentiss began