Strawberry Top Short Mysteries Box Set (Books 1-3): Strawberry Top Mysteries

By CC Dragon

Grammy’s Secret Recipe

When good Southern girls get divorced, they go back home to Mama... 

Stacey "Strawberry Top" Fields is home again in small town Willowbrook, TN. Divorced, she's already earned her amateur sleuth badge by proving her super rich ex-husband cheated on her (and getting her share of the money per the pre-nup). A prize winning cook and blue ribbon baker, she was a fabulous wife and hostess but now she's starting over. 

It’s fun to be home with friends and family but even quiet little towns have problems. Secrets and lies make people do desperate things-small towns just hide them better. When someone steals Grammy's precious family recipe book, Stacey must track it down or never hear the end of it. That book means the world to the family and, since cooking is Stacey's future, no one is going to steal her family's culinary heritage and get away with it!

Black Sheep Cake

Being the odd one out is even worse in a small town where everyone knows your business… 

Stacey "Strawberry Top" Fields is divorced and back home in Willowbrook, TN. Teased for her red hair a kid, she feels on display again as she tries to restart her life. A prize-winning cook and blue ribbon baker, Stacey is debating a suggestion by her best friend, Brandy Jo. Recording a cooking show for the Internet sounds like fun but is it a career? 

A divorced single mom, Brandy Jo wants to produce the show but has other pressing problems. Her family is having a reunion and she’s the black sheep failure with an ex-husband, one son, and a few part-time jobs. It gets much worse when her nice but uninsured car, a gift from a wealthy aunt, disappears. 

Luckily, Stacey is helping with the desserts table and making Brandy Jo’s favorite chocolate cake. Plus, Stacey is known for her amateur sleuthing skills. Her best friend needs that car and whoever stole it will be made to pay. 

Church Ladies Tea

A lovely church fundraiser causes major drama when the cash turns up missing. Another mystery to solve is the last thing Stacey Fields needs as she hunts for a new house and kicks off her own small business. Unfortunately, there are those in town who think Stacey might just be the thief. Rumors do run wild in a small town full of gossip. Toss in multiple man dramas and cats on a leash and things only get more out of hand for the amateur sleuth. Stacey can’t take no for an answer and presses for improvements in the church’s food pantry while tracking down the real cash thief—and if she happens to do a little matchmaking along the way, at least she helped a couple of people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Dragon
• Release date: Feb 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524203689

CC Dragon

Author of Cozy Mysteries and Romantic Suspense. Loyal Chicago girl who loves deep dish pizza, the Cubs, and The Lake! Addicted to amateur sleuths :)

Book preview

Grammy’s Secret Recipe

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Blurb

When good Southern girls get divorced, they go back home to Mama...

Stacey Strawberry Top Fields is home again in small town Willowbrook, TN. Divorced, she's already earned her amateur sleuth badge by proving her super rich ex-husband cheated on her (and getting her share of the money per the pre-nup). A prize-winning cook and blue ribbon baker, she was a fabulous wife and hostess but now she's starting over.

It’s fun to be home with friends and family but even quiet little towns have problems. Secrets and lies make people do desperate things-small towns just hide them better. When someone steals Grammy's precious family recipe book, Stacey must track it down or never hear the end of it. That book means the world to the family and, since cooking is Stacey's future, no one is going to steal her family's culinary heritage and get away with it!

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Dedication

For everyone who had to start over at some point...sometimes you run away and sometimes you go back home. Either way, knowing who you are and where you came from is the key!

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Special Thanks...to my street team:

Maranda, Donna, Heather, Wendi, Veronica, Sarah, Jennifer, Zee, Mary, Callie, Brandy, Janet, Jeannie, Sheryl, Layla, Marissa, Katie, and Sara!

Chapter One

Coming home wasn’t the plan. As I passed the Welcome to Willowbrook sign I plastered a sweet Southern smile on my face. I was back.

It could’ve been worse; I hadn’t made a fool of myself trying to make it in the Nashville music scene. I didn’t get pregnant when I wasn’t married. Divorce wasn’t a huge deal anymore and with no kids, I could cut ties to the cheating jerk. But small Southern towns like Willowbrook, Tennessee had old-fashioned sensibilities.

As I parked my SUV at the Strawberry Top Café I gave myself a pep talk. I’d accomplished more than a few things for being nearly twenty-seven-years-old. I had earned my degree from the culinary school at the Art Institute of Cincinnati on a scholarship, so no student loans! Plus I had a hefty chunk of money from the divorce. I also had Salt and Sugar.

I turned and made sure my two white cats were doing okay in their carriers. Refreshing their water, I rewarded the felines with a couple of treats.

It’s okay, guys. You can’t go in here, but we’ll be home soon and Mama has a big old house for you to run around in. I hit the buttons and lowered the windows so they got some fresh air.

It was fall, so the cool breeze felt good and the cats sniffed the new surroundings. They meowed as if announcing their arrival; even Sugar who was born deaf was very vocal.

Hopping out of the car, I didn’t bother to lock the doors. Most people didn’t lock their homes around here. I slung my purse over my shoulder then ran my fingers through the thick mane of red hair, inherited from my grandmother. My clothing was appropriate for moving: jeans and a comfy T-shirt. I should’ve dressed up for my return; Mama would prefer it, but after loading the car I’d have been all wrinkled which was just as bad.

It seemed fitting to stop here first. Strawberry Top was my nickname as a kid and Mother had named the café after me. She’d bought the café from the Widow Morgan when she turned eighty and my own mother became a young widow. We all had the cooking gene; every Southern lady was expected to magically know how to cook delicious food. Not every woman could but my Grammy was an amazing cook and taught Mama and me. So it made sense she’d hand the cafe down to me someday.

I admired my mother. She’d been a housewife raising two little girls, and suddenly to be a widow. Taking on so much so much wasn’t easy but Southern women had to be strong. Especially when they frequently married foolish men.

I walked inside and it felt like I’d never left.

Strawberry Top! Anna, she’s here! Lola Evans shouted from the cash register.

Lola was my mother’s best friend and co-manager. Normally my seventy-five-year old grandmother sat behind the cash register, at least for part of the day. Like everything around here the cafe was a family affair.

Mama came out from the kitchen wearing an apron covered in strawberries. She was self-consciously touching her brown hair smashed under a hair net, but she was all smiles.

About time you got here. We were going to send the state police off looking for you up that highway soon. She hugged me tight.

Traffic was bad around Nashville. I just stopped by to say hi—I have to go home and get settled. I hugged Lola too.

Tons of people waved and smiled. I could only handle so much catching up now. I needed to freshen up first. Darn that Southern lady programming.

Honey, you are so brave. Cheating husbands are as old as the Bible and you have nothing to be ashamed of. This place will be your legacy, Lola said.

I wasn’t ashamed. I hadn’t cheated, but the old time values said I should’ve kept my husband happier or suffered through his mistakes. The future was something I couldn’t really think of beyond today.

A legacy seemed overwhelming. I was home where I could at least trust people to like me for me. Plus I had the money to buy my own place, though Mama would be upset if I did that right away.

Mama shot her friend a look. I told her not to marry a rich man. You can’t please those greedy overachievers. They always want more. Something else. Something different. Going off to college was one thing but marrying so far up was a gamble. At least you got what was promised.

Their debating defense of me was meant to be supportive. I sat on a padded stool at the counter and smiled. The place had strawberry trim and pale cream wallpaper with little vines all over it. The booths were dark red and the counter surfaces almost matched the wall color. It was old but cared for. They still served root beer floats and pecan pie daily.

You okay? Lola asked.

Sure. Just a long drive with two cats and unpacking still ahead of me. That’s why I dressed for comfort. And you two both definitely did better than I did in the husband department. They never cheated. I smiled and admitted my mistakes like a good little girl.

They’re dead, the women said in unison.

But Daddy never cheated on you, Mama. He adored you. I envied their relationship. Daddy was hardworking, but a good old boy who got hit by the love bus and no other woman could compare. Men weren’t like that anymore, but I didn’t say that out loud or I might be labeled bitter.

He got himself shot on a hunting trip. Fool. Mama would never forgive him for dying my senior year of high school.

Anna, stop. He was tracking something big. He didn’t realize he’d come up on someone’s growing efforts. Lola kept her voice low.

A moonshine set up wouldn’t make anyone blink, but the nice people of Willowbrook were rather shocked and ashamed that some of the locals in the hills grew illegal plants. Daddy liked his shine now and then but didn’t drink like some men and never touched drugs. He liked cigars, outside as dictated by Mama. Still they talked about what people grew up in the hills in hushed tones. The forests were so dense in some places you could stumble on it without knowing.

Lola’s husband died when he was hit by a drunk driver. Like both widows had learned, insurance money only went so far when you had younger children and a lot of life left. I’d learned from them and would make my pre-nup windfall last. I’d transferred the money to the Bank of Tennessee, Willowbrook branch.

Luckily I’d gotten a scholarship on my cooking skills so I had no debt and Mama hadn’t had to pay for college.

I’ll make dinner tonight, I offered.

That’s nice but don’t. All that driving and unpacking. You’ll be tired, Mama said.

Is that a Lexus? Lola looked out the glass front door.

I blushed. Yes, it’s only a year old so I couldn’t see trading it in yet. The ex’s brother-in-law’s family owned a dealership so it was a steal.

A steal? Your father was a Chevy man. Your grandfathers were Chevy men. You don’t need to buy a pickup truck, but a foreign car? Mama leveled a look at me that said I’d disappointed her Southern roots that went back to the dawn of time.

Plenty of people drive them, Anna. Stop it. Tennessee has Nissan plants and VW plants. Lola admired the car.

And a GM plant. It’s one thing to look like a lady, it’s another to show off. Mama turned to the register and checked out a customer.

Old Mr. Philips pinched my cheek. He was a friend of Grammy’s, solidly in his seventies, but still I felt like a child again. Coming home had a way of doing that no matter how prepared you were.

Where is Grammy? I asked, rubbing my cheek.

She had a talk at the high school for their home economics class. Or cooking class. Something. Mama waved.

That’s nice. I’ll pick her up on my way. I stood up, ready to dodge more pinchers or worse, people wanting to look supportive while rubbing in the divorce.

No, John is going to do that. He knows the right time. Then he’s coming back here to fix a couple of those stools. They’re wobbly. Mama nodded. You just go home and get settled. You have those pets too.

Cats, yes. I’ll clean up after them. I was never allowed pets as a child. Mama needed a house ready to show off and pets interfered. Or I can get my own place. That building of condos is supposed to be very nice.

No, I just don’t want my twenty-seven-year-old very attractive daughter to become a cat lady. You’re divorced, not dead. I want you to promise me you’ll socialize, she said.

I looked at my mother’s left hand and then Lola’s. I don’t see either of you remarried. You’re still wearing the original rings.

We’re widows, it’s different, Lola replied.

You’re not dead. You could date, I said. I’d ditched my wedding ring and had my engagement ring made into a pair of earrings before I left Ohio.

Mama sighed. If you want to be a sad old divorced cat lady, fine. You’ll have this place when I’m dead. I know you’ll take care of it and you can cook. At least I did that much.

The guilt bomb. A Southern mother’s best weapon. Blaming themselves for their children’s shortcomings.

You have grandchildren. It’s not like I’m an only child. I hated to admit it but deep down, I felt bad. The divorce was an embarrassment for my mother. But she had another daughter who was happily married with two kids and they’d never left Willowbrook.

Lola laughed. You can never have too many grandbabies to spoil.

I closed my eyes before I rolled them. My divorce had only been final a few weeks and they were talking about babies, which implied a new husband, already.

There are plenty of young men around, Lola said.

You should’ve come back sooner. Matt is dating someone, Mama said with a frown.

You should’ve snapped him up first, Mama, I teased.

Hush now. That is awful. I’m no bobcat, she said.

Cougar, I corrected her lame attempt at a modern reference. The idea of dating was exhausting and they were overselling the male options in Willowbrook. I’d kept up talking to my friends and sister while I’d been away. There were some men but most were living with their parents or had lousy jobs. I couldn’t stand a lazy guy with no ambition.

Matt adored you. You two were such a pretty couple at junior and senior proms, plus those homecomings. Mama clutched a hand to her chest as if she were admiring us now.

I’d bet she’d swapped out the pictures from my wedding for pictures from my prom on the mantle at home. The woman didn’t know how to surrender. She just picked a new target and fought on.

Matt was very nice but he got a scholarship to Purdue for engineering. We knew we weren’t going to the same colleges. I’d nearly freaked out and stayed home from college after my father’s funeral, but following Matt to a college would have cost Mama money or put me in debt with student loans. I loved Matt like crazy in high school but I’d been a teenager. Losing Daddy made me grow up fast and Grammy talked sense into me. Wasting a scholarship just for a man—Daddy wouldn’t want that. College and time helped me heal and move on to other boyfriends.

Well, he moved back and has a job nearby. He travels a bit looking after the hydroelectric whatevers that provide the power but you’re the one who ran off and married that ceiling czar of the Midwest, she mocked.

He is the flooring king of Ohio and I didn’t run off. I got married after college. I might’ve chosen poorly but I was in love with him when I married him. His family was from Cincinnati and successful. He supported my studies and thought I could have a cookbook or TV show, like Martha before her troubles. Or Paula before her antiquated views flew out of her mouth.

A younger, hipper, but Southern cooking guru.

The dream was there but I’d lost my connections.

Lola nodded supportively. And our Stacey was smart enough to get a pre-nup to protect herself, and she proved he was cheating so she got what was owed her. We’ve got our own Nancy Drew right here.

A woman walked up to the register. It was Mrs. Ronald, a judgmental older woman in a brown sweater that smelled of mothballs.

You should try to reconcile with your husband, dear. All that effort was in the wrong direction. Bless your heart, she said to me and left.

Young people make mistakes, Mrs. Ronald, Mama called after her.

Bless your heart was the Southern ticket to say anything and looking kind in the process. Rude, snarky, or even cruel...if you chased it with a bless your heart, you were fine. I’d always secretly thought that was a bit mean; at least how people used it could be.

Don’t bother, Mama. You were already suggesting remarriage for me. Mrs. Ronald is just more conservative. Willowbrook had a mix, like any other town, but conservatives had no fear around here. Traditional was the predominant way of things.

She’s right, Anna. I just know Stacey’s next hubby will be from Willowbrook and that marriage will stick. Lola smiled.

It was nice to hear my name instead of Strawberry Top. My hair was darker red now than it had been when I’d gotten that nickname.

Are you keeping your married name? Stacey Mulberry? Or did you go back to Fields? Mama asked.

Fields. No reason to keep his name. I shook my head.

She nodded approvingly. Start fresh. Go home and settle in those pets. I’ll bring home dinner tonight from here and you can cook for us tomorrow. Then we’ll talk about when you want to get on the schedule.

Schedule? I should’ve been expecting it. She’d want me to work at the café.

You’re such a good cook. You can’t waste it, Lola said.

"But you have a full staff. I’m not taking a job or even a shift from someone who needs the money. I can contribute to the household and pay rent but I don’t need a job. If you need me to fill it, I’ll certainly help," I said.

Mama stared at me for a moment. The adult dynamic took adjusting to but I wasn’t playing the child now. Finally she nodded. You settle in and we’ll see. Your best friend from high school has been picking up all the spare shifts waitressing, bussing, and hostessing.

Brandy Jo is working here? She didn’t tell me that. Her dream was always TV and movies. There wasn’t a day she wasn’t taking pictures or videos of stuff in high school.

I know. They cut her hours back at the TV station and her ex isn’t paying support on time. I pay better. Mama looked around which was her code for not wanting to appear to be gossiping. We can finish this at home.

It’s okay, I’ll talk to her. She’s been giving me the watered down version of things, no doubt because of my divorce. Let her have the openings then, please. I grabbed my purse and kissed Mama on the cheek. I’m going to head home.

See you later, she said.

Welcome home, Strawberry Top, Lola said.

The customers applauded. I forgot what it was like to know practically everyone in town. I waved at them and headed back to the car. The cats started talking, expressing their annoyance at the wait.

Okay, okay, we’re going. You’ll have more people to pester here. I realized I might be on the verge of being a crazy cat lady but right not that was preferable to another husband. Someday I’d be ready but not yet. Rolling up the windows, I hoped no one had heard me talking to the cats. I had plenty of time to get married and have kids. Though my twenty-eighth birthday wasn’t that far off.

If my marriage had worked I’d probably have a baby by now, not two rescue cats. They were a package deal from the shelter. The deaf one had taken a liking to the other one when it came in as a scrawny kitten. Salt must’ve figured out Sugar couldn’t hear and became her ears. They were inseparable and having a handicapped cat was sort of fun.

They were on the adventure with me. Life wasn’t over and I wasn’t stuck with a cheater jerk of a husband anymore.

I headed for home. Going back to where I grew up had some advantages. I knew every street and nearly every business. I’d always have my family and friends on my side.

Now I just needed to figure out what happened to Brandy Jo without making her feel bad. I could’ve gotten the story at the café but that was too public. I didn’t want to look like I was gossiping about her. She’d been my best friend since we were six. The bigger question was why hadn’t Brandy Jo told me herself?

Chapter Two

Last night I’d managed to get the stuff in the house. Plus the cats were settled in the heated sun room off the back porch with litter box, food, and water plus enough toys to entertain them. Their same cat beds were set out. Moving cats stressed them out.

I checked on them the first thing in the morning. The purring fur balls pounced on me but they’d eaten, drank water, and used the litter box.

Good girls! I scratched their cute little ears.

Unpacking last night took longer than I’d thought and dinner with Grammy and Mama took time. I’d texted Brandy Jo but she hadn’t called me back yet. I should’ve called her but she was a single mom now and I didn’t want to add to her stress. Her marriage fell apart before mine did and there were no secrets in small towns. I’d kept in touch with my friends via phone but it wasn’t the same. I was missing the details and sitting around and talking to my friends.

I took a walk around the room. Nothing was scratched up, except the scratching post which they loved. I refilled their water and food.

One more day in here and we’ll let you loose on the first floor. Okay? I toyed with their tails.

My phone beeped with a text.

It was from Brandy Jo. Breakfast at the café? 8 am?

I texted back that I’d meet her there. Making sure the cats didn’t dart out as I left the room, I closed the door firmly behind me.

Breakfast is ready, Grammy said.

Sorry, I’m having breakfast with Brandy Jo once she drops off her son at school. I feel like a bad friend—I didn’t know she was having job trouble. I smiled. Grammy made food at home when she worked at the café; it made no sense to me but questioning your elders was a waste of time. I’d only be scolded about how her pots were in the family for years.

Grammy looked frail but never seemed to slow down. The former redhead was now gray but she wore it the same way. She patted my cheek and walked me to the kitchen as I grabbed a cup of coffee.

Your friend needs a friend. Her hours at the local TV station got cut. Women are cameramen now? Grammy asked.

I smiled. "Yes. Cameras are a