Truffles and Tragedy: A Down South Cafe Mystery Book, #6

By Gayle Leeson

Down South Cafe owner Amy Flowers learns her chocolate truffles might not be the only things her patrons find "out of this world."

 

When her cousin, Jackie, asks her to give a presentation to her online class, Amy thinks all she has to worry about is speaking before a group. But then the nitpicky professor collapses. He has been murdered, and hot-tempered Jackie is the prime suspect. Some online forums are even speculating that the professor was an extra-terrestrial, so Amy must sort out fact from fiction to get to the truth.

 

Certain the real killer is setting Jackie up, will Amy be able to outwit the killer and save her cousin?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gayle Leeson
• Release date: Mar 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781732019560

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Copyright © 2021 by Gayle Leeson.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Gayle Leeson/Grace Abraham Publishing

13335 Holbrook Street, Suite 10

Bristol, Virginia 24202

www.gayleleeson.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover design by Wicked Smart Designs.

Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the Special Sales Department at the address above.

Truffles and Tragedy/Gayle Leeson.—1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-7320195-7-7

Dedicated to Tim, Lianna, and Nicholas

Chapter One

"D

o raccoons like peanut butter?" I asked, as I rolled biscuit dough out onto the floured countertop.

Dude, how the heck should I know? I don’t talk to raccoons. Scott looked solemn as he answered, barely looking up from the tomatoes he was chopping. Especially not about their culinary preferences.

I huffed. You know I’m nervous about this.

Putting down his knife and scraping the tomatoes off the cutting board into a bowl, he asked, Don’t you feel like you might be overthinking this a little? It’s a wild forest creature. If it isn’t happy with its dinner, let it do like every other tree dweller and forage for its own food.

This isn’t just any raccoon, and you know it. Dilly loves that thing, and it has been coming to her house for biscuits for ages. I sprinkled a little flour on the dough before using my biscuit cutter. If I get this wrong and either kill the little critter or make it avoid Dilly from now on, she’ll never forgive me.

She will forgive you. Scott rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist.

I knew the hairnet drove him nuts, but it was a necessity when he was working in the kitchen. I didn’t particularly like mine either, but I was used to it.

As for the question of Dilly’s forgiving me if I alienated her raccoon, I wasn’t as confident about that as Scott seemed to be. Dilly Boyd came into the café every day and not once did she leave without a biscuit for the raccoon who lived in the woods behind her house and visited at dusk every evening. I’d gotten a message from Dilly on Saturday evening telling me that she and Walter Jackson were eloping and that she’d appreciate it ever so much if I’d take a biscuit to her house and leave it for the raccoon every day she’d be gone, starting on Monday—she’d planned to leave a biscuit on the back porch Sunday morning before she and Walter left on their honeymoon. Dilly had met Walter less than a year ago when he’d moved to Winter Garden and had started frequenting the café. Both of them being early risers, Dilly and Walter were often here at the same time. They hit it off and soon became inseparable.

Luis, our busboy, was refilling napkin dispensers at the lunch counter. He called to us through the window between the dining room and the kitchen. Raccoons do like peanut butter. My sister was watching a video online the other day of a raccoon family eating peanut butter sandwiches.

Good to know, I said. Thanks, Luis.

I put the biscuits on a baking sheet, brushed their tops with butter, and placed them into the pre-heated oven. Dilly and Walter are due back on Saturday, so I’d like to have them a reception here at the café that afternoon. I realize it’s last minute, but do you think we can pull it off?

Scott grinned. I know we can. May I make the cake?

Sure. Scott was always wanting to hone his baking skills, and I’d been giving him more opportunities to do so lately. I believe I’ll make them some truffles too.

I’d made truffles to add to the dessert case right before Valentine’s Day, and they’d been popular for St. Patrick’s Day as well. Now that we were in the final week of March, I was thinking of preparing some truffles using pastel-colored white chocolate for Easter. But for Dilly and Walter, I could make heart-shaped ones and put their initials on the tops.

I miss Jackie, Luis said.

So do I, I said. But she’ll be in soon.

Since Jackie, my cousin and right-hand gal at the café, had started taking classes at the extension branch of Tubman College—a private liberal arts college—she usually didn’t make it into the café until late morning.

No, I mean, I miss our Jackie. Luis finished refilling the dispensers and began distributing them onto the tables. She’s been so busy lately that even when she’s here, she’s not here.

I feel you, dude, Scott said. I miss her too. But, hey, she’s following her dreams, man. Who can fault her for that?

That’s true, Scott. I smiled.

Luis was right, though. I, too, had noticed that Jackie seemed to be under a lot of stress with her classes. Maybe there was something I could do to help her out—other than be a guest presenter in her online class. I was doing that after work today. I’d never given a presentation to a class before, but it didn’t seem that hard. The professor had asked each of the students to bring a business owner or manager they knew to class today to provide some insights.

The phone rang, and I answered it through my headset. Good morning. Thank you for calling the Down South Café. How may I help you?

I just wanted to make sure you’re open, a male voice answered. I’ve got twenty-four hungry people on a church bus, and we’ll be passing through Winter Garden in about fifteen minutes.

All right, I said. We’ll be ready for you. Ending the call, I looked at Scott. Incoming.

How many?

Two dozen coming in on a church bus. The timer went off letting me know my first batch of biscuits was ready. I got started on the next one. Would you mind mixing the pancake batter?

Will do, he said.

As I was removing the baking sheet from the oven, I heard a breathy female voice ask, "Is this the Down South Café I’ve heard so much about? It’s a bit...underwhelming."

Don’t you know that made my hackles raise up higher than the hair on a cartoon cat standing on a witch’s broom? I dropped the baking sheet onto the counter and threw down my oven mitts.

Stepping into the dining room, I saw Ms. Underwhelming standing just inside the doorway wearing black leather pants and a tight red turtleneck sweater. Her overly pouty lips made her look as if she’d lost a battle with a swarm of angry bees.

It was hard to smile, given that I was gritting my teeth, but I made the effort. May I help you?

Maybe, Underwhelming said. Are you responsible for running this place?

I am.

I’m considering hiring you—and renting this...establishment—for a tea. Underwhelming came on into the dining room and took a notebook and pen from her massive silver purse. I’ll need to know if you can create the dishes I want. And I’ll need references, of course. Also, could you spruce up the décor a little—try to render the dining area more elegant?

I’m sorry, but I have a church group on their way, and I don’t have time to discuss catering options right now. I nodded toward the register. There are business cards there on the counter. If you’d like to take one and give me a call between seven and eight o’clock this evening, we can discuss it then. I thought that by seven p.m., I should be finished with Jackie’s class and have my temper in check.

Well! At that, Underwhelming left the building. She didn’t take a business card either.

Good. I gave an emphatic nod, and Scott and Luis burst out laughing. What? I spread my arms. Had Jackie been here, she’d have really put that woman in her place. Underwhelming...she should have seen this café before I renovated it! I stormed back into the kitchen to take my frustration out on the next batch of biscuit dough.

Bring on the church group! Scott shouted, as he turned on the mixer.

As I shot him a look of pure venom, he began to sing Onward Christian Soldiers.

"Underwhelming!" I wailed to Ryan long after the church group had left. Fortunately, at that time, he was our only customer.

Ryan was not only my boyfriend, but he was also a deputy with the Winter Garden Sheriff’s Department. He was in uniform now, and he was gorgeous and sweet and solicitous—unlike Scott and Luis, who had been singing that song Let It Go every time I mentioned the incident—which wasn’t that often.

You know how hard I’ve worked to make the café what it is today! I continued.

When I’d bought the Down South Café—known then as Lou’s Joint—it had been a rundown dump. Roger—my friend since childhood and Jackie’s boyfriend—owned a construction business, and he had completely remodeled the café to my specifications. Instead of browns and rusts, the café now sported bright blues and yellows. The dingy linoleum had been replaced with bamboo flooring. And we even had a patio at the side for outdoor dining when the weather permitted.

Placing his hands on my shoulders, Ryan said, Sweetheart, who cares about the opinion of one snobby woman? If she calls about the catering gig, simply tell her you’re too busy and move on.

I said nothing.

She can’t move on, Scott piped up, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. Your girl doesn’t just hold a grudge, bro—she squeezes it and wrings it like a dishcloth.

I do not. I looked from Ryan to Scott and back to Ryan. It just...hurt my feelings.

I know, babe. Ryan hugged me. But everyone in town loves this place.

Do they? I asked. Or do they come here because it’s one of only two restaurants in Winter Garden?

"They love it, Ryan said. And they love you."

That’s right, Scott said.

Wow. Jackie came in, hung up her jacket, and stowed her purse beneath the counter. I didn’t know I was missing a love fest.

Oh, boy, here we go again. Scott ducked into the kitchen.

I quickly explained the situation to Jackie, and to my satisfaction, she got as ticked off about the comment as I did. I even found myself trying to calm her down.

Ah, who cares what she thinks? I asked.

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up, but he wisely didn’t comment.

I wish I’d been here, Jackie said. I’d have given her a piece of my mind.

Smiling at the fact that someone else was incensed on behalf of the café, I tried to change the subject. I’m looking forward to presenting to your class this afternoon.

Homer Pickens came in for his daily sausage biscuit as Jackie was explaining to Ryan that I was going to be her guest in her online class today.

How can Amy be your guest in an online class? Homer asked, sitting on a stool beside Ryan.

Having never known his father, Homer chose a hero every day. It never failed that the hero would have some words of wisdom to impart about whatever we might be discussing in the café that morning when Homer arrived on or around ten-thirty for his sausage biscuit. I’d long ago concluded that the man must have a photographic memory to be able to pull out a quote for any occasion.

The class is done over video, Jackie said. Everyone has the capability to see all the other students the entire time through the computer monitors and laptop screens, but the teacher controls the feed so that most of the time the camera is either on him or on the student currently talking.

The Tubman College extension branch had been a staple in Winter Garden for the past ten years or so. It was housed in a former independent primary school, which had sat vacant for several years prior to its being renovated by Tubman. I’d been happy that the two-story brick building had been spruced up and repurposed, and I believed the majority of the town’s residents felt the same way. Plus, it had been nice for students not to have to travel farther away to study, especially those who needed to work to support themselves while furthering their education.

Shaking his head, Homer said, As my hero of the day Albert Einstein once said, ‘I fear the day that technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will be a generation of idiots.’

Trust me, Jackie said. "You wouldn’t want any more interaction with this teacher than absolutely necessary. He isn’t an idiot, but he is a jerk. I just came from his office where we had a rather heated discussion over my last assignment."

I remembered Jackie saying this teacher had been a stickler for how a seventeen-page paper had been done. He had told her that her information was thorough and accurate but that he was giving her a C because she hadn’t formatted the paper pursuant to his syllabus instructions.

Did he agree to raise your grade? I asked.

No. She sighed. I even offered to reformat the paper, but he said it’s too late. He won’t budge.

I patted her shoulder. I hadn’t been worried about my presentation to Jackie’s class before, but I certainly was now. What if my performance wasn’t up to par, and he gave Jackie a bad grade on this assignment as well?

{  }

Chapter Two

"N

o offense intended, but this place is a little creepy, Jackie said, as we drove up the narrow, rocky driveway leading to Dilly’s house. I’m glad Dilly and Walter are married now. I didn’t realize Dilly was living in such an isolated place alone."

I knew she lived out away from town at the edge of the forest, but I had no idea her closest neighbor was half a mile away. I shook my head. Do you suppose that’s why she’s at the café as soon as we open in the mornings—because she has no other companionship?

"She does have other companionship—she has Walter...who comes with her to the café. We’re their friends. And they enjoy our food. Jackie uttered a low growl. That woman really got you worked up this morning."

"I know. I’m usually not so sensitive or insecure, but she attacked my café—the thing I’ve poured my

Reviews for Truffles and Tragedy

[Cyril Albar · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

“Best Books I’ve Read. ... If you have some great stories like this one, you can publish it on Novel Star, just submit your story to [e-mail] or [e-mail]