Cannoli to Die For

By Peg Cochran

With her best friend Flo’s wedding approaching, Lucille is desperate to trim down and joins Weigh to Lose, a weight-loss program led by a clipboard-wielding harridan who’s as unattractively thin as she is shrill. When the bossy woman turns up dead with her throat slashed and a tasty-looking cannoli stuffed in her mouth, Lucille figures she got her just desserts.

But when the local police come up empty-handed, Lucille sinks her teeth into the mystery and narrows the list of suspects to a husband with a wandering eye, a sexy young Swedish au pair, and a gambler deep in debt to the wrong people. Until one of the suspects becomes the victim of another gruesome murder.

Afraid she’s bitten off more than she can chew and worried that she might be next on the killer’s list, Lucille puts her own neck on the line with a wild plan to trap the culprit and tip the scales of justice.

“If you want a very funny murder mystery, then this book is for you. I’ve never laughed so hard while reading before.” —Goodreads, on Unholy Matrimony, Book 2 in the USA Today bestselling Lucille Mystery Series

About the Author:

Peg Cochran is the USA Today bestselling author of the Lucille Mysteries, the Gourmet De-Lite mystery series, the Cranberry Cove mystery series, and also, writing as Meg London, the Sweet Nothings Vintage Lingerie series. She has two daughters, a stepdaughter and stepson, a beautiful granddaughter, and a Westhighland white terrier named Reggie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
• Release date: Dec 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946069474

Book preview

Cover

Cannoli to Die For

With her best friend Flo’s wedding approaching, Lucille is desperate to trim down and joins Weigh to Lose, a weight-loss program led by a clipboard-wielding harridan who’s as unattractively thin as she is shrill. When the bossy woman turns up dead with her throat slashed and a tasty-looking cannoli stuffed in her mouth, Lucille figures she got her just desserts.

But when the local police come up empty-handed, Lucille sinks her teeth into the mystery and narrows the list of suspects to a husband with a wandering eye, a sexy young Swedish au pair, and a gambler deep in debt to the wrong people. Until one of the suspects becomes the victim of another gruesome murder.

Afraid she’s bitten off more than she can chew and worried that she might be next on the killer’s list, Lucille puts her own neck on the line with a wild plan to trap the culprit and tip the scales of justice.

Title Page

Copyright

Cannoli to Die For

Peg Cochran

Copyright © 2017 by Peg Cochran

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

ISBN: 978-1-946069-47-4

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Books by Peg Cochran

About the Author

Chapter 1

Lucille stared at the box of doughnuts open on Jeannette’s desk. Jeannette was polishing off the last bite of a chocolate custard one. Lucille watched in fascination as custard oozed out the side. It made her mouth water.

Jeannette looked at Lucille, her small eyes narrowing. She waved a hand toward the doughnut box.

Go on, have one.

She licked her fingers one by one, making a smacking sound that set Lucille’s teeth on edge.

Lucille felt her stomach grumble. The scent of chocolate, sugar and yeast wafted toward her.

But it was Monday. And she’d promised herself she would begin her diet today.

Just like you do every Monday, a little voice whispered inside her head. Who do you think you’re kidding?

But this time she really was going to lose weight, Lucille told the voice. She’d joined Weigh to Lose and was going to her first meeting later today.

So it probably wouldn’t hurt to have a doughnut. It was going to be her last one for a long time—until she took off the thirty pounds she’d managed to accumulate. She couldn’t imagine how. She didn’t eat hardly any junk food.

She’d read an article in a magazine on what they were calling clean eating. If you ate clean you didn’t have to worry about gaining weight. She and Frankie had been eating clean pretty much their whole lives. Lucille made all their meals—none of them microwave cardboard containers of food for them.

Lucille had to admit she didn’t make the cannoli Flo brought every Sunday from that bakery in Maplewood. But somebody made them so they had to be clean food, right?

So how come she and Frankie weren’t thin like them people they showed with the article?

Lucille shook her head. What the heck—one doughnut couldn’t hurt. Then she’d go to that meeting and get on their plan. Frankie wanted to rent a place down the shore next summer and by then she’d be looking great.

Her hand hovered over the doughnut box. She looked up to see Jeannette’s eyes sliding toward hers and quickly grabbed a Boston cream and took a bite. She closed her eyes and imagined herself next summer walking up and down the beach in a new bathing suit. Maybe one of them fancy ones with the cutouts and gold rings for trim.

Lucille finished her doughnut and wiped her hands on a napkin. She thought about having another one—there was a jelly doughnut filled with raspberry—but she didn’t want to overdo it and have them repeating on her.

Lucille went back to her desk, where she was stuffing envelopes. Sheesh, she swore that the more she stuffed, the bigger the pile got. Father Brennan was sending out an appeal letter on account of the church needed a new roof. Last Sunday when it rained, an usher had had to slide a bucket under one of the leaks. He was real quiet like, but they could all hear the ping of the water as the drops hit the metal.

Lucille looked up to see that Jeannette was reaching for the raspberry jelly doughnut. She should have taken it herself—now there was only one left in the box and it was a maple glazed. Lucille didn’t like maple doughnuts. They were too sweet for her taste.

Jeannette adjusted the belt around her wide waist as she took a bite. A bit of raspberry jelly dribbled onto her chin. Lucille stared at it. She could almost taste it. She licked her own lips.

Hey, are you going to that Weigh to Lose meeting today? It’ll be right over in the church hall.

Jeannette’s eyes narrowed again.

I’m going, Lucille continued. They say the program is real easy. Foods are listed in columns and you pick one thing from each column for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Like one of them Chinese menus, you know what I mean?

Jeannette’s eyes narrowed further.

So you don’t have to count no calories or nothing.

Jeannette shrugged and turned back to her computer, the remains of her doughnut on a napkin on her desk.

Lucille eyed it as she continued to stuff letters. Was Jeannette going to eat that or was she going to let it sit there getting all stale and hard?

• • •

An hour later Lucille felt as if she’d barely made a dent in the envelopes that were waiting to be stuffed. St. Rocco’s was a big parish. Lucille hoped everyone would pony up the money so they could get the roof fixed. She knew it was worrying Father Brennan—he’d hardly touched his lasagna last weekend at Sunday dinner.

Jeannette’s chair squeaked as she swiveled around to face Lucille.

Father Brennan asked if you could go set up the chairs for that meeting you were talking about.

Weigh to Lose? Sure.

Lucille jumped up from her seat. Anything to take a break from those envelopes. She already had one paper cut and didn’t need no more.

Lucille bolted from the office before Jeannette could change her mind—she was like that, saying one thing one minute and something else the next minute.

She should have worn her jacket, Lucille thought, as she stepped outside. The sun had darted behind a cloud and the breeze had a cool edge to it. Of course, autumn was like Jeannette—warm one minute and cold the next.

Lucille scurried across the parking lot. One of them large buses sat idling right outside the church hall, belching black smoke out the tailpipe in back. The door was open, and Lucille noticed most of the seats were already filled.

She wondered where they were headed. Maybe it was one of them church trips the women’s auxiliary planned from time to time. They’d done one to the Frelinghuysen Arboretum in Morristown to see the gingerbread house display, and Lucille had signed up to go but both Bernadette and little Lucy had come down with the flu and Lucille had had to stay home to take care of them.

The bus driver was leaning against the side of the bus, a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger. He turned toward Lucille.

It was Ralph Romano—an old pal of cousin Louis’s. The two of them used to play poker together.

Ralph, Lucille called as she picked up her pace.

Ralph turned and gave Lucille a big smile.

Lucille, he said, clapping her on the arm. Long time no see. What have you been up to?

Oh, you know. This and that.

Everything okay with the family?

Sure, sure, Lucille said, thinking about how everything was not okay between Frankie, Tony and Bernadette.

Lucille patted the side of the bus. So where are you off to today?

We’re headed to America’s Playground—Atlantic City. Got a full bus, too. Seems everyone is anxious to give away their money. He gave a chuckle that turned into a rambling cough. I don’t gamble myself. If I wanted to throw my money away, I could just toss it in the trash. No need to go one hundred twenty-five miles to do it.

I hear you. Listen, I’ve got to run. Have a safe trip.

Ralph gave Lucille a brief salute as she turned and walked away.

Funny, running into Ralph like that, Lucille thought as she went down the metal steps that led to the church hall. She hadn’t seen him since cousin Louis’s funeral.

Lucille put a hand to her back. It was kicking up again—must be what they called lumbago. All the old ladies she knew had it. Not that she herself was old but she was a grandmother now. The thought of little Lucy made her smile. But then she remembered about Tony and Bernadette and Frankie and everything that had happened, and she felt sad.

It was barely three o’clock in the afternoon, but the church hall was dark. Not much light came through the small windows set high on the wall. Lucille flicked on the overhead lights. She knew Father Brennan didn’t like to waste no electricity but she could hardly see her hand in front of her face.

Folding chairs were stacked against the wall. Lucille hauled them to the center of the room one by one. She didn’t know how many people were coming to the meeting, but she figured twelve chairs ought to do it. If more people came, they could get their own chairs.

By the time she was done, Lucille’s shirt had come untucked and she was all perspired. She pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe her face. The tissue looked like it had gone through the wash—that must have been why Frank’s navy blue uniform pants had come out of the machine with all those bits of white lint stuck to them.

Lucille was stuffing the tissue back into her pocket when the door to the hall eased open and a woman backed into the room. Her hands were full and there was a large cardboard sign tucked under her arm. She had to use her hip to open the door.

The woman put her bundles down on the long table on the side of the room and turned around.

Oh, she said when she saw Lucille. She looked Lucille up and down. You must be here for the meeting.

For a second, Lucille almost denied it. She could still back out. She didn’t sign nothing.

The woman was very thin. She’d obviously lost a lot of weight and that must be why her face was so pinched-looking. Lucille thought it made her look mean and that a couple of pounds on those bones of hers that jutted out from everywhere would do her a world of good.

I’m Dotty Garibaldi. The woman held out a hand and smiled.

"Lucille. Lucille Mazzarella. That’s like mozzarella but with an a." Lucille gestured toward the chairs in the center of the room. Father Brennan said you wanted them chairs put in a circle. I hope—

It’s fine, Dotty said, giving her a pained smile. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get things set up. She gave that thin smile again. I’m a bit behind, I’m afraid. We had a closing this morning that went on forever. At the last minute the new owners wanted all sorts of things they’d never mentioned before.

You’re a real estate agent?

Yes. I’m with Dingledyne, Mingledorff, Hoogerwerf and Rumble.

Sheesh, Lucille thought. That sounded like something out of them Harry Potter books Bernadette liked so much.

My friend Flo’s cousin is a real estate agent, Lucille said. Joe Ferrara. Do you know him?

Dotty didn’t smile. Yes, I know Joe. She turned around abruptly.

It seemed to Lucille like maybe Dotty and Joe didn’t get along none too well. She hoped it wasn’t going to be a problem on account of Flo was coming to the meeting, too. Maybe it would be best if she didn’t mention it.

Flo was on a weight-loss kick all of a sudden—getting ready for her wedding to Richie Sambucco. She was doing all kinds of things Lucille had never heard of—like nanocurrent facials. Of course, she worked for a plastic surgeon so she got a discount. Still, Lucille wouldn’t want anyone putting no current near her face no matter how much they took off the price.

Dotty had placed the large cardboard sign she was carrying on the table that had been set up for her. It was a picture of a slim and trim woman standing at an angle to the camera with one hand on her hip and one foot forward. It was how the stars always posed on the red carpet, Lucille thought. She’d have to try it next time Frankie wanted to take her picture.

You need some help? Lucille went over to where Dotty was setting up.

Dotty had a cantaloupe cut in half and was using a melon baller with a scoop on one end and a carving knife on the other to make small melon balls, which she placed in a glass bowl with cut-up strawberries and blueberries.

The Weigh to Lose plan does allow snacks, Dotty said in a chirpy voice. She gave Lucille a practiced smile. The key is choosing healthy snacks, you see. Like cut-up fruit. She gestured toward the serving dish.

Lucille made a mental note to buy some fruit to keep in the fridge. It looked real good the way Dotty had prepared it.

The door opened and a group of women came in, chattering and laughing. They waved to Dotty as they took seats in the circle Lucille had created with the chairs. She figured she ought to go sit down, too.

Flo was the next to arrive. She slid into the seat next to Lucille.

You didn’t tell me she was running this class, she hissed at Lucille. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.

You mean Dotty Garibaldi? Do you know her? I didn’t know you knew her. Lucille turned to look at Flo. Your face looks funny, she whispered. Like it’s real stiff or something.

Dr. Hacker gave me some fillers, Flo whispered without hardly moving her lips at all.

Lucille wondered if she even could move them. Her face looked as tight as a twin-sized fitted sheet stretched across a queen-sized bed.

What are fillers? Lucille asked.

She pictured some kind of spackle being injected under Flo’s skin—like the stuff Frankie used to patch the hole in the wall that was left when they took some cabinets down.

Ladies. Dotty stood at the top of the circle and cleared her throat. I think it’s time we begin.

She glanced at her wristwatch, which was so small and delicate