Pary Barry & John- Now We're Cooking: PB & J, #9

By Kamaryn Kelsey

Pary has entered a cooking contest, with an unpleasantly surprised John as her partner. The catch? It's being filmed for television, and none of the contestants cook or bake. The prize? Ten thousand dollars. Things are already falling apart when the hostess dies on stage the first night of filming, and Detective Peter Pipe steps in to solve the mystery.

With each group cooking traditional dishes from their heritage, Pary's in trouble- she was adopted and doesn't know her heritage! And John's no help. As the teams drop out, one by one, Pary and John might actually have a shot at winning this thing. And Detective Pipe has a good chance of solving the murder with help from Pary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kamaryn Kelsey
• Release date: Apr 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386710004

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

This is not a standalone book.

Chapter 1

John, I have an exciting announcement, Parody Hope Barry said as she hopped down the hall, trying to keep up with her neighbor, John Smith.

Are you moving? he asked.

Don't be ridiculous! My apartment is perfect. Why would I want to leave it and start all over? she asked, her gray eyes big and serious.

I can think of at least a dozen reasons. You're a pest, your apartment is ugly, it's a fire hazard and an eyesore, you're a pest, you expect me to drive you to work, I'm starting to go crazy just from being in the same general area as you, you're a pest... Shall I continue?

That's only five, unless you count fire hazard and eyesore as two. Then it's six.

You can't count, you're giving me a headache, he continued as they got on the elevator together. He glared at her. How is it that we always end up riding the elevator together?

I wait for you, she told him. Otherwise, we might never get the chance to catch up. Since we no longer work together, and since you've become so miserly with your time. You don't answer the door like you used to, John.

I'm getting smarter. Speaking of work, how's the new job? he grinned, knowing she hated it. She recently went from field agent to an office job in the basement of the government building that housed the DEA branch.

Her brows dropped, and she let out a meaningful sigh. Don't ask. It depresses me. Look at me... how can I be happy dressed like this?

John looked at Pary. She was an average looking, average size woman with dark gray eyes, a few freckles, and shoulder length light brown hair. Because of her job, today she was even dressed in an average manner. But John knew inside an explosion of crazy was building up pressure along with the desire to wear the wildly improbable combinations of clothes she preferred.

You look like everyone else now, he remarked.

Don't be rude! You know I consider that an insult. I'm a free spirit, John, and I should be allowed to express myself even at work. I wonder if I should call the ACLU and ask about my rights as a government worker, she pondered.

John laughed. I'm pretty sure you signed away all your rights when you took the job with the DEA.

Well, had I known my imagination and my freedom of expression would be squashed by the rigid rules of the business world I would have reconsidered, she complained.

Sell it to someone else. Those rigid rules you're complaining about keep the building from looking like a school for clowns.

I'll ignore that because I want to tell you my exciting news. She was back to bouncing as they crossed the street to the parking garage. I've been chosen to be a contestant in a baking contest. Or maybe it's a cooking contest, I don't remember. But they're basically the same thing.

So what's the exciting news? he asked with a chuckle. Is the city running an emergency preparedness drill for your entry?

This is serious, she told him earnestly. The winner gets ten thousand dollars. How awesome is that?

It depends on whether or not you bake. And you don't bake. I'd say the judges might have a few complaints as well, if they are forced to sample anything that comes out of your kitchen. Does your oven even work?

Do you think that's a requirement? she asked, nervously chewing the edge of her nail.

John exploded with laughter. Pary, how do you expect to enter a baking contest without an oven?

She gave him a look that insinuated he was stupid. "Have you heard of no bake, John? You can make cookies and stuff without baking."

Wouldn't that disqualify you from a baking contest?

Pary bit her lip with worry. I probably should have read the fine print, huh? But I've already been chosen! I guess if it gets down to it I can borrow your oven, right? ... John? Hey, wait up!

John ran to his car, hopped in, and locked the doors before she could climb in. She knocked on his window, and he shook his head.

Don't worry. I don't need a ride. I just wanted to tell you that I'll bring some experiments by for Frank and everyone you work with to sample.

John cracked his window. Thanks for the warning. He paused and gave her a puzzled look. How is it possible that you are even allowed to enter a baking contest? Don't you actually have to be a baker?

Her eyes got huge with excitement, and she almost sparkled with joy. "That's the beauty of it! They only want contestants who don't bake! Or maybe it's cook. Either way, I qualify."

Oh, my god! What do they have against the rest of humanity? John asked before he backed out of his parking spot and left Pary standing there.

I'll be sure to ask them for you, she yelled after him.

Chapter 2

After work Pary eagerly hid behind a support column in the parking garage, waiting to surprise John. He'd call it an ambush, but PB chose the optimistic viewpoint. She almost chased his car when he pulled into the garage, but she decided to let him park. John had an unfortunate tendency to ignore her lately, even when she chased his car while yelling.

She waited until his footsteps got closer and she popped out from behind the support. Holy hell, lady! an angry man yelled in surprise as he dropped his sack of groceries. What's wrong with you?

Why aren't you John? she asked, looking beyond him. John? she yelled. "Where are you? I've been waiting forever!"

The angry man picked up his groceries and yelled, John, if you have any sense you'll jump from the top floor of the ramp. He wandered off mumbling about crazy people who slipped through the cracks in the system.

Pary