Parker Bell Florida Humorous Cozy Mystery Boxed Set - Vol. 4: Books 7-9: Cookies and Murder, Flamingos and Murder, Bowling and Murder: Parker Bell Humorous Mystery, #4

By Sharon E. Buck

What could possibly go wrong in Po'thole, Florida when local native, cyber security owner, and best-selling author Parker Bell moves back to her hometown and accidentally becomes a member of the Lady Gatorettes where there is always mayhem, mischief, and murder?

Cookies and Murder - book #7
When Parker Bell and the Lady Gatorettes frequent a local chocolate chip bakery, they can't imagine that they would be accused of murder. Enter the Bunny Hop Gang, a drug cartel, FBI shenanigans, and the return of Parker's first love boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong in Po'thole, Florida?

Small-town craziness, over-the-top characters you probably know in real life, and enough laughter to keep you turning the pages.

"I was hooked when introduced to the Gatoretts in volume one and they and the stories have just been getting better and better. I could swear that Ms. Buck must have interviewed in depth some of my bayou cousins down in Louisiana and their beaus and husbands." ~ Amazon review

Flamingos and Murder - book #8
Parker Bell's favorite restaurant Hubba Bubba's Fish Camp is striving to become a bona fide Florida tourist destination with the addition of Miss Maisy, a pink flamingo, courtesy of Miss Trixie Delight, the star performer at Babes, Babes, and More Babes Gentlemen's Club.

Because you can never have too many flamingos named after redneck restauranteur Hubba Bubba's favorite dancers - Miss Pinkie, Miss Lexie, and Miss Diamond, toss in a murder, a convicted felon running for mayor, possible flamingo trafficking, and you have all the makings for a new craziness, murder, mischief, and mayhem in Po'thole.

"Parker Bell and those ever-entertaining Gatoretts return with a flock of new characters to reel out another tail of deceit, intrigue, and murder in that quaint Florida riverside town. People looked up as I laughed out loud and then puzzled as I tried to explain the hilarious goings on there. And just when I thought I knew who done it a whole bunch of new possibilities and personalities who'd be revealed.

"Ms. Buck is one of the most truly entertaining writers in this genre." ~ Amazon review

Bowling and Murder - book #9
What do the Lane Hogs, the RIP 'n Rollers, the 6Feet Unders, the Academic Alley Cats, the Bowling Stones, the Clean Sweepers, the Pixies, and the Lady Gatorettes have in common with Po'thole Bowling Center aka Po Ho Bo? Throw in murder, mayhem, money laundering, and a former beauty queen vying for attention, it's enough to make Parker Bell and the Lady Gatorettes hurl bowling balls as weapons of mass destruction.

Lace up your bowling shoes, grab your lucky ball, and prepare to bowl over with laughter as Parker Bell and the Lady Gatorettes attempt to strike fear into the heart of the most bizarre bowling alley caper you've ever read!
Sit down with your favorite liquid libation, sweet iced tea for most, and enjoy the hilarious antics of Parker and her merry band of friends in this Florida humorous cozy mystery series.

"I never laughed so hard reading a book. This is the first book of the series I read and now I have to go back and read the others. Parker and the rest of the girls are wonderful!" ~ Amazon review

Sit down with your favorite liquid libation, sweet iced tea for most, and enjoy the hilarious antics of Parker and her merry band of friends in this Florida humorous cozy mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southern Chick Lit
• Release date: Dec 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223052142

Sharon E. Buck

True confession time. I have a wicked sense of humor in case you hadn’t noticed. My true desire and hope is that I made you laugh while reading this book. My mission is to change the world with laughter one book at a time.   I write the Florida Parker Bell humorous mystery series featuring the Lady Gatorettes. Florida crazy isn't just for tourists, the natives are unique in their own special way. Those zany folks who who live in northeast Florida can't quite make up their minds if they belong in Florida or south Georgia. They do believe in having a good time along with some mayhem, mischief, murder, and wackiness thrown in there. My laugh-out-loud books are clean with no cursing or graphic sex. Read them today!   I grew up in Palatka, Florida, traveled the Southeast extensively for a number of years, and currently reside in Jacksonville, Florida. I decided for my health and well-being it was better to live elsewhere once people in my hometown realized the Parker Bell Cozy Mystery series is loosely (very loosely, according to my attorney) based on them.   When I’m not doing my favorite thing…writing…I enjoy walking her little rescue dog, traveling, reading books, and cracking my friends up with funny stories and my sense of humor.

Book preview

Parker Bell Florida Humorous Cozy Mystery Collection - Vol. 4

Books 7 - 9: Cookies and Murder, Flamingos and Murder, Bowling and Murder

Cookies and Murder, Book 7

Flamingos and Murder, Book 8

Bowling and Murder, Book 9

Sharon E. Buck

Southern Chick Lit

All three books: Cookies and Murder, Flamingos and Murder, Bowling and Murder are all copyrighted in their respective years by Sharon E. Buck.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Cookies and Murder, Book 7

Flamingos and Murder, Book 8

Bowling and Murder, Book 9

Cookies and Murder, Book 7

A Parker Bell Humorous Mystery

Sharon E. Buck

Southern Chick Lit

Copyright © July 7, 2022 by Sharon E. Buck All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For more information, or to book an event, contact :

[e-mail]

http://www.SharonEBuck.com

Cover design by Steven Novak, NovakIllustration.com

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

18. ABOUT SHARON

Chapter 1

"M iss Suzie has sold Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC Cookies. What are we going to do?" wailed Rhonda Jean running into my kitchen.

With one of Miss Suzie’s plump chocolate chip cookies already halfway to my mouth, I glanced over at the almost full box on my countertop and hoped Rhonda Jean didn’t see it.

I should have known better. Anything that had sugar in it, it was as if she were a torpedo heading in for the kill. There would be no survivors.

Rhonda Jean, I backed away from the box because I didn’t want to be permanently injured from her laser focused attack on my cookies, an elephant wouldn’t stand a chance if it stood between Rhonda Jean and whatever sugary delight she saw. Why should ‘we’ do anything about it? It’s her business and she can do what she wants with it.

I’m calling a meeting. She announced with gusto while pushing a whole chocolate chip cookie in her mouth. She also managed to type a text out on her phone at the same time. I can’t multi-task like that.

Did I mention these were monster-size cookies weighing in at a whopping one-half pound of ooey-gooey chocolatey goodness?

Literally five minutes later all of the Lady Gatorettes were standing in my kitchen. I swear Misty Dawn, Mary Jane, Myrtle Sue, Flo, and Rhonda Jean must live right outside my door because they always arrive so quickly. Our standard meetings took place in my kitchen.

Why, inquiring minds want to know? Because the delicious bean juice aka nectar of the gods aka coffee was always available along with doughnuts and cookies. The other food of choice was pizza. Those girls ate copious amounts of pizza while consuming vast quantities of sugar and caffeine throughout the day. Why they didn’t look like baby sumo wrestlers was beyond me. I, on the other hand, did watch how much I consumed. This caused great merriment from the girls. Holding up her I kill for coffee mug, Misty Dawn snarled, Rhonda Jean, we all know Miss Suzie is selling her cookie company. Why should that make any difference to us? Um, because I think we should buy it. Gathering up her courage, she continued, We already have national brand recognition because of our reality tv show and our national radio shows. We’ve had a boatload of people who want us to do business deals.

But, interrupted Flo, fluffing her new blond pageboy hairdo, we aren’t known for cookies. Doughnuts and coffee, yes…

Don’t forget about the pizza! grinned Myrtle Sue, setting down her coffee mug.

Flo ignored her. I don’t cook or bake…

Mary Jane and Myrtle Sue piped up. We do! We do!

Ladies, ladies, I almost shouted because I wanted to grab their attention. It’s not about us making cookies, it’s about running a successful business which Miss Suzie did.

The exorcist had nothing on these girls with the fast swiveling of their heads to look at me. I could feel myself wilting down into my sneakers.

She’s right, agreed Misty Dawn taking a big gulp out of her mug. The cookies are great but it’s about running a successful business. Do we know anything about that? But, nooo, we do not. We have people for that.

That was true. We had managers to keep track of and arrange personal appearances. We had financial people who handled all the monies we made. Let me hasten to add, we did receive monthly reports which the girls went over with a fine-tooth comb because they always had questions. This caused the pencil pushers an undue amount of grief, I’m sure. Do I dare say the questions were always off the wall?

Ladies, I tapped the bottom of my coffee cup on the kitchen countertop, I’m not remotely interested in buying or running a cookie business.

Rhonda Jean, Mary Jane, and Flo gave me the death stare. Since I knew it was harmless and they would not create bodily harm, I hoped, I continued to sip on my coffee.

Misty Dawn nodded in agreement. Flo wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to us. She was too busy looking at her reflection and patting her new hairdo in my shiny, fingerprint-resistant, stainless-steel refrigerator.

Let me back up a moment and introduce you to everyone.

The five hormonal, caffeine-and-sugar-infused women in my kitchen are the Lady Gatorettes. The group came together after a particularly bad meeting at the local University of Florida Gator booster club meeting. There’s still a lot of controversy about what happened. The cops were called, no charges were pressed, and no one went to the hospital.

After that debacle, the girls decided to form their own club. No new members allowed. Well, they did add me but they’ve sworn no more members.

Misty Dawn is the leader of this group. She has dark brown hair, brown eyes, and has that long, lean look of an athlete or a Marine just out of boot camp.

Born on a foggy morning, her mother, who may or may not have been under alleged heavy sedation at the time and who was very superstitious in general, decided God was giving her a very clear sign that her precious little baby girl should be named Misty Dawn.

Let me just say the girl is anything but dainty. In fact, I think Misty Dawn goes out of her way to prove she’s strong, she’s tough, and she can outswear a sailor any day of the week. Apparently, I’ve been a good influence on her because she tries very hard not to swear around me.

Her husband, John Boy, works in construction and is afraid of no one except his wife. He turns into a puddle of mush if she gives him the stink eye.

Mary Jane is an attractive brunette and has large, brown puppy dog eyes. After graduating from high school way back when, she went to Atlanta for a weekend with some out-of-town cousins.

Speculation is that she indulged in some cheap street pharmaceuticals which has caused flashbacks and twitching at odd times. She’s never explained anything. Those out-of-town cousins have never come to visit her again and she’s alluded on occasion that they may be residing in a long-term stay-cation facility for leading others down the primrose path of sin.

Mary Jane surfs the internet for dates. She also flirts with any guy she sees. The rest of the girls occasionally scold her for surfing for men on the Internet. She thinks they’re envious.

She also keeps track of Joe D. Savannah's latest profile on dating sites. Joe D. was my first love boyfriend, and she considers it her sacred duty to tell me when he shows up on a site. It means he’s getting ready to divorce another wife. His latest descriptive creation always creates a great deal of merriment amongst the girls. She refuses to admit to being a stalker. Her version is that she wants to make sure she doesn't show up on his you might be a match notification list. Trust me, she won’t.

Myrtle Sue, a little dark-haired fireplug of a woman, is a domestic goddess. She knows every recipe that has ever been used on the Food Network television channel. She’s always trying new recipes. Why the girl doesn’t weigh five hundred pounds is beyond me.

There may or may not be a competition between Myrtle Sue and Misty Dawn on who has the hottest temper. It’s Misty Dawn hands down, in my humble opinion.

Myrtle Sue might look calm but there’s a little volcano inside that’s just waiting to erupt at any moment. J.W., her husband, discovered it the hard way.

During hunting season, Southern boys don't believe it's necessary to ask their wives for permission to go hunting or explain why they go off in the woods with other men getting sweaty, stinky, dirty, nasty, and still don't have a dead animal to show for what they were doing over the weekend.

Myrtle Sue had come home from a particularly bad time at Walmart and discovered that her husband had gone off for the weekend with the boys while leaving her a note saying he would see her Monday morning before he went to work and oh, yeah, he wanted clean clothes for Monday. He made the fatal error of not saying I love you on his note.

Her hormones were a wee bit on the explosive side after going to Wal-Mart and it was also that special time of the month. Mount Vesuvius probably didn’t explode like Myrtle Sue did. She took all of his clothes, threw them out in a heap on their driveway, and poured deer musk oil on them. For those not in the know, deer musk oil has a sharp, repulsive ammonia and urine smell. She vowed she wasn’t washing any of J.W.’s clothes for the remainder of hunting season.

After becoming a graduate of the 90-day Myrtle Sue School of Doing Your Own Laundry, J.W. now leaves notes with a great big I Love You on them.

Myrtle Sue is also now a bestselling author on marital bliss with over fifty thousand copies sold. Go figure!

Rhonda Jean is the largest of the girls. As she so elegantly puts it, she’s not p-h-a-t, she just has a few extra pounds that have decided to stay with her…permanently. She thinks her fat has an attitude. When it was suggested awhile back that she might want to consider joining a gym, her comment was, I’m not lazy, I’m just highly motivated to do nothing about it.

She is also the football trick-play master. She knows every trick play that has been in a Gator game for the past thirty-five years. She very firmly believes at least one trick play should be incorporated into every game…and sends both offensive and defensive coaches her super-secret trick playbook at the beginning of each season.

Her fervent wish is that one of her plays will be used during a televised game and the Gators will run it in for a touchdown. So far it hasn’t happened.

Her husband, Big T, short for Thomas the Third, is very proud of his wife’s initiative. He also engages in numerous outdoor activities that may or may not be legal involving gators, deer, bears, snakes, and any other exotic Florida creatures.

Flo is a tall, recently blonde out-of-the-bottle, waitress who marries during off-season. This probably explains why she never notices the men are not into Gator football. She’s always on the prowl for a new husband. We have to watch her like a hawk.

Me? I’m a bestselling author and cyber security company owner who lived happily in Atlanta for a number of years before I was snatched back and thrust into the little sleepy town I grew up in…Po’thole, pronounced Po Ho by the locals and Pothole by anyone north of the Florida-Georgia state line. Technically, it’s pronounced Poat, like goat, and Hole but rarely does anyone actually say the name right. It’s located on the beautiful St. Johns River in northeast Florida. The town isn’t too bad, although it’s not particularly aesthetically colorful, it’s the locals that drive me crazy.

My motto should be I see dead people because murders and dead people seem to show up near me on a disturbingly regular basis.

You know, I grinned, looking around at the girls, we have a marvelous opportunity here.

Misty Dawn snapped her fingers. Of course! We can have a town get-together and introduce her to Po Ho.

I know that other chamber of commerce in town won’t do it, sniffed Flo still patting her hair this way and that to see how it would bounce.

For those inquiring minds wanting to know how Po’thole happens to have two chambers of commerce, let’s just say the girls and I created our own official chamber of commerce, it says so right there on our website and, therefore, must be true. The real chamber of commerce wouldn’t let me or the girls join because of our over-the-top exuberance we brought to every event. The short version is we scare them and they can’t control us. So, we created our own chamber…where we have a lot more members and it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg to join.

We also created new jobs and that seemed to make the townspeople very happy with us.

Rhonda Jean was already calling. Marla, yeah, yeah, yeah, good day to you too. Listen up, put together a Welcome to Po Ho for Imogene Yankee, the new owner of Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC Cookies. Can you get it done by this time next week? Rhonda Jean looked at us and flashed a thumbs-up sign. The rest of the girls hissed at her and did the Gator Chomp. She grinned. They hissed again along with giving her the death stare. She did the Gator Chomp. Okay, wonderful, thank you.

Turning back to us, she announced proudly. Done. Misty Dawn, I grinned and nodded my head, it’s time you and I go visit Imma Yankee. We need to get her to donate a thousand cookies and tell her about the party.

Um, you might be forgetting someone, quietly said Myrtle Sue. You should also get Miss Suzie to be at the party as well. She can do a ceremonial passing of the cookie to the new owner.

Great idea! We all high-fived each other.

Chapter 2

Misty Dawn and I headed over to the cookie factory on River Street. Miss Suzie had purchased an old brick-and- mortar factory that had fallen into serious disrepair a number of years ago. The city wanted to bulldoze it but Miss Suzie pleaded with the illustrious city commissioners to let her have it for just pennies on the dollar and she would make it beautiful. She declared at a city commission meeting that she would also make it profitable.

After some shrewd negotiations behind closed doors, she emerged as the new owner with some very favorable tax benefits.

True to her word, she had restored it and it looked better than the old original building. She turned it into a state-of- the-art true cookie factory. She employed a number of locals and was always willing to donate cookies and money to worthy local causes. People loved her…and her cookies.

We entered through the highly polished wood doors into a gleaming modern front office lobby. The young lady sitting behind the receptionist desk smiled. What can Miss Suzie’s CC Cookies do for you today?

Misty Dawn and I smiled. We’re from the official Po’thole Chamber of Commerce and we’d like to talk Imogene Yankee for a few moments.

I’m sure Imogene would love to meet you. She and Miss Suzie are standing back by the cookie line. You’ll need to put these on. She whipped out a couple of hairnets for us. Just follow the white line until it turns blue and they should be right there.

We went through the glass doors and followed the line. Yes, I almost wanted to skip, dance, and sing to Follow the Yellow Brick Road but I was afraid what Misty Dawn might do to me.

Miss Suzie saw us and waved for us to join her and Imogene.

Ladies, she said putting her arm around Misty Dawn’s waist. Who knew you could do that with Misty Dawn and not end up dead? I want y’all to meet Imogene Yankee the new owner of my company.

Imogene was about my height but had the granny pounds on her. She reminded me of the old-fashioned grandmas from way back in the day. You know the kind, a little on the round side, wearing an apron with sparkly blue eyes and white hair.

Hey, how you? Sticking her hand out, I shook it.

Grinning, I answered, Great! On behalf of the official Po’thole Chamber of Commerce, I’d like to…

Miss Suzie burst out laughing, Imogene, there are two chambers here in town. The most fun one and the one you really want to be associated with is this one with Parker and Misty Dawn.

We do have a lot of fun, I agreed, winking at Miss Suzie. And that brings me to what we’re here for. We want to have a welcoming party for you next Monday, late afternoon, early evening. This way you can meet a lot of the townsfolk, make new friends, and let them know who you are.

Imogene smiled, That’s very nice of you, Parker. I accept your invitation, and I’m guessing you want me to donate some cookies so everyone can truly see how delicious they are.

Misty Dawn put on her megawatt smile. Of course.

We went over a few details for the party and left. Calling the other chamber, I asked to speak to the head honcho better known as B.P. Harris. Her real name was Bernadette Penelope. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be called that either.

B.P. Harris speaking. Hey, it’s Parker Bell.

Frostiness was an understatement. Yes?

I’m calling to invite you to the welcome party for Imogene Yankee, the new owner of Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC Cookies next Monday night at our chamber.

Thank you. Goodbye.

I looked at Misty Dawn and we both laughed. Yes, you guessed it. I'm really good at pushing others’ hot buttons. I knew my inviting her was going to irritate the living fool out of Miss B.P. and her chamber crew. I also knew there was no way this side of heaven that they could get their own event under way this quick.

The following Monday everything was in place and ready to go. Marla had done another outstanding job of arranging things, Imogene had delivered two thousand of Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC cookies to be given away. They were wrapped in their very own little cellophane bags with a red ribbon tied at the top. They looked beyond delicious. This was a great way for Imogene to be introduced to the locals.

Marla approached the microphone, tapped on it once, and announced, Ladies and Gentlemen, here is Miss Parker Bell as our master of ceremonies.

Slightly more than polite applause and a couple of wolf whistles, I’ll take what I can get at this point in life, I took the microphone. Hey, y’all, let me introduce you to Imogene Yankee, the new owner of Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC Cookies, and help her to feel welcome.

A lot of clapping and whistling enthused. Imogene was smiling as she took the microphone from me. She looked at the crowd and nodded her head a couple of times.

I’m Imogene Yankee…and before you start making fun of my name, she laughed, know that the name Yankee goes clear back to the 1850’s. Now I know some of you are probably already thinking my name says ‘Imma Yankee’ and what mama would ever name her child that?

Great guffaws erupted from the crowd, she had them in the palm of her hand.

"…and what is Imma Yankee doing coming down to

northeast Florida where you are kinda like southern Georgia.

Am I right?" She raised both arms up in the air and cheered.

The crowd was cheering and waving their arms in the air also.

So even though I’m from ‘up north,’ I love the South. I love Po Ho, more cheers from the crowd, I love how we’re going to have an even more successful business than Miss Suzie, I’m grateful she sold me the business, and I love you!

If Imogene had been a rock star, she would have dropped the mic in a move of total ownership. As it was, she placed it back in the stand and walked off stage waving to the cheering crowd.

I did notice B.P. standing in the very back of the crowd trying to hide behind a very large man. Of course, she’d come out to check what we were doing.

Miss Suzie hugged Imogene as she walked off the stage.

Doing the debriefing after the event, the Lady Gatorettes and I agreed it was all a rousing success.

Sometimes I wished I had a crystal ball to look into the future.

Chapter 3

Acouple of relatively quiet weeks went by. One morning as I was lying in bed contemplating life, listening to the birds chirping with a gentle, unusual, non-humid breeze blowing through my window, I sensed there was impending doom in the atmosphere. Things in my world, when I was in Atlanta, were calm, quiet, and peaceful. In Po Ho, things were chaotic, crazy, dare I even admit it to myself, fun.

I texted the girls. Cookie factory at ten. It was funny when Miss Suzie owned the bakery, we all called it Miss Suzie’s but now that Imogene owned it, everyone in town started calling it the cookie factory even though the name was still the same. I guess it was a nod of respect to Miss Suzie to now refer to Imogene’s business as the cookie factory.

Imogene had added an outdoor café area with clear- topped tables with umbrellas, comfortable chairs, and a couple of outdoor sectional sofas where small groups could drink their coffee and eat their cookies. It had quickly become the new casual meeting place in town.

Getting there a few moments early, I spotted Imogene and waved at her.

Hey, Parker, so nice to see you. She turned her outstretched palm and waved it at the crowded café. I’m thinking I may add a limited sandwich and salad menu. That should go over nicely, don’t you think?

Nodding in agreement. Yes, I do. Can you handle the sudden growth? You know exponential growth is just as bad as no growth if you don’t have systems in place to handle it.

She smiled. I’m working on a system now. I’m pretty sure we can do it. Plus, we’ll be adding about five to seven new jobs.

Imogene, you should add a cookie to each order. Make it mandatory, if you will. I laughed.

Imogene’s eyes twinkled. "Knew I liked you for a reason.

Of course, that’s what we’re doing."

The girls bounced into the café area where some of the patrons immediately scooted closer to their table, thus, giving the girls more room to share their limitless energy. Let’s just say there was a wariness in the air.

Go, Parker. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Imogene turned, circling her finger in the air at the server to bring us coffee.

Everyone plopped down.

Hey, y’all. We’ve got the coffee coming…

Plus cookies. Rhonda Jean was clapping her hands in anticipation of the cookies.

The young girl grinned. Of course, Miss Rhonda Jean. Miss Imogene is also wanting y’all to try something from the bakery so that’ll be coming out as well.

Everyone grinned at each other. We were chattering amongst ourselves when the coffee and sandwiches appeared.

Imogene magically appeared next to our table. Try these chicken salad sandwiches and let me know what you think. We’re going to offer six different kinds for our next lunch menu. Each one of you has a different one.

Handing us cards with each of our names on it along with the name of the sandwich, she handed us pencils. Tell me what you like or don’t like about it. The cookies will be out in a moment.

I’d like to tell you we ate the sandwiches daintily but we’re Lady Gatorettes and the little pinkie in the air routine doesn’t fly with us. We ate the sandwiches with gusto and little teeny, tiny pinches of each person’s sandwiches were given to each other so every one got a taste of the different sandwiches.

Well? Misty Dawn arched one of her eyebrows. I still haven’t mastered that skill yet. Both of mine head toward the moon every time I try to do it.

Um, Mary Jane looked around to make sure Imogene and her servers weren’t in hearing distance, I’m not wild about mine. The lemon zest gives it a funky taste and texture. I probably wouldn’t order it.

Rhonda Jean nodded in agreement. Mine had a lot of fresh dill and it doesn’t taste balanced.

Licking her fingers, Flo said, It was okay but the Methodist church ladies do a better version of it for their fall bazaar. It had too many grapes and walnuts in it.

Rut row! Imogene probably wasn’t going to be happy with these results. The real question was going to be how would the girls let her know she wasn’t batting a thousand on the chicken salad sandwiches.

Myrtle Sue, who had been quiet up to this moment, semi-snorted while wiping her hands on the paper napkin. These are poor imitations of the Chicken Salad Ladies chain restaurant.

Not realizing that Imogene had somehow magically appeared out of nowhere and heard the last thing Myrtle Sue said. Her voice was measured. I did not copy anyone’s recipe. Yes, I’ve eaten hundreds of different types of chicken salad sandwiches over the years and my recipes reflect my taste.

Imogene was still smiling but it hadn’t reached her eyes. I’m guessing none of you liked your sandwiches. It was a flat statement, not a question.

We appreciate your letting us try the sandwiches but, perhaps, you need to refine them a little more before putting them on the menu. Misty Dawn was trying to be diplomatic and I appreciated her effort because normally she would have uttered something to the effect of my dog eats better food than this.

Let me be fair and say the sandwiches weren’t horrible but I wouldn’t order them again.

Thank you for your input, ladies. Turning her back on us, I swear I thought I heard her say, Witches. Okay, it wasn’t exactly that but close enough.

Ah, the cookies are different. Rhonda Jean had taken a huge chunk out of her cookie and you could see her working her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

We all took a bite out of the delicious chocolate chip cookies in front of us. I was a little hesitant to say what was different about them but the desire for chocolate overrode my reluctance.

Rhonda Jean was right. They tasted different, not bad but different. These cookies were very definitely not Miss Suzie’s recipe. The chocolate chips tasted flat. Yeah, I know. How does chocolate taste flat? It simply didn’t taste fresh. If the chips had been sitting out in the open for three days, that’s what they would have tasted like.

Myrtle Sue had her eyes closed as she was slowly masticating her bite. Stale, cheap chocolate chips are in these cookies. It’s not the brand or the caliber of chips that Miss Suzie used in her cookies.

The server came over with our check.

Hey, have y’all changed Miss Suzie’s recipe on the cookies? Flo finished her cookie.

Not that I know of but I’m a server, not a baker. Did y’all each want a dozen to go?

Not today but thanks. I stood up. I have way too many doughnuts at my house now and the sugar overload is too much.

Rhonda Jean eased her way over to me and touched my shoulder. You have doughnuts, fresh doughnuts, at your house?

Yes, I stopped on my way over here. They’re in the car…but wait, Rhonda Jean, you can only eat them at my house.

She’d already made her way over to my car. I swear! I thought I saw the woman actually drool and then she licked the window. Ewww!

Misty Dawn roared behind me. What do you think you’re doing, Rhonda Jean?

Half-turning, she pointed her index finger at my window.

Parker’s got fresh doughnuts in her car.

Oh, shish kebob! That was equivalent to waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. At least, I had the car door locked so they weren’t tearing up my interior. The thought did occur to me that I might suffer bodily harm.

All of the girls ended up by my car door. Not looking good for my physical well-being. Being the wimp, excuse me, the pro-active individual I am, I declared, Ladies, come to my house and we can share the doughnuts.

I barely got the words out of my mouth before they were in their vehicles barreling to my house. I was the last one to arrive. Mary Jane had the coffee brewing and Flo had thoughtfully placed paper towels on the countertop for the doughnuts. Why waste time by getting dishes or even disposable plates out when paper towels would do? Martha Stewart would probably not utter her famous words It’s a good thing at my house…ever.

Managing to get the doughnuts on the counter before my hands could be potentially dismembered from my arms, the girls did wait for a full second and a half before dive-bombing the sugary delights.

Flo was licking sugar from her fingers. These doughnuts taste so much better than Miss Suzie’s cookies.

My question is why? Why change a winning formula?

Misty Dawn finished her third doughnut.

I’m guessing she figured she could increase her bottom line by changing a couple of the ingredients. I’m also guessing she’s betting that either Po Ho won’t notice or won’t care and people will continue to buy the cookies as fast as she can make them.

Why did Miss Suzie sell her business to begin with? Mary Jane was tidying up the kitchen, wiping down the counter, throwing away the paper towels and washing the coffee cups.

I looked quizzically at the rest of the Lady Gatorettes. We all shrugged at about the same time.

I’m calling her. Myrtle Sue punched numbers in her phone. Hey, Miss Suzie, it’s Myrtle Sue. Yeah, I’m fine. You? Great! Why did you want to sell your business when it was doing so well?

Nothing subtle about a Lady Gatorette.

Uh huh, uh huh. Okay, you know they don’t taste the same now? Yeah, uh huh, uh huh, yeah, okay. Take care. Bye.

Not sure how to interpret that conversation, so I waited. Myrtle Sue drew the silence out as long as she possibly could. Miss Suzie sold her business because her daddy is really sick, he’s probably dying, and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

We all nodded. Family first.

"She said Imogene approached her about buying the business, it never was out on the market officially. Anyway, Imogene offered her thirty percent more than what she was asking. The reason she offered more was because she didn’t want anyone else getting the company before she did.

And, yes, Miss Suzie knows the cookie recipe has been changed and as she put it, ‘It’s Imogene’s and she can do with it what she wants.’ But she sure didn’t sound happy about it.

Imogene’s gonna kill her business. It was a flat statement from Flo. Did the woman even have bakery or restaurant experience before she came down here and took over Miss Suzie’s business?

Picking up my phone, I dialed my ever-faithful assistant Missy in Atlanta.

Well, hello, Parker. Missy was always chipper. Are you calling to see how your cyber security business is doing?

I took a deep breath. I’m sure it’s running fine or you’d be all over me like white onto rice. Listen, run a background check on Imogene Yankee.

Seriously? I could hear Missy snickering. I’m guessing you have already nicknamed her Imma Yankee.

Well, she brought it up first at the welcome party we had a couple of weeks ago.

Gotcha. General background info or do you want a deep dive?

Unless something looks suspicious, just go with a general background on her. We discussed a couple of minor things with my company and hung up.

If I had only known what can of worms I opened.

Chapter 4

Things were quiet in Po’thole . I was enjoying working on a new software program for my company in Atlanta. Yes, contrary to the very true rumor that I was wealthy and didn’t need to work for the rest of my life, I did enjoy being active. Not always the kind of active that revolved around the Lady Gatorettes but I did enjoy keeping my brain engaged in something other than caffeine, sugar, doughnuts, and pizza.

I was working on my laptop out on the back deck of my house. It was quiet, the birds were making strange little sounds that happy birds do, I could watch the beautiful, sparkling St. Johns River, and then…

Yo, Parker!

I almost shot straight up heading for the moon. The girls all suddenly appeared in front of me. I swear it was weird how they could do that. David Copperfield, the magician, had nothing on these gals.

My phone went off. I had debated about changing my ringtone from Pink’s ‘So What’ to another pop song but finally decided against it.

The girls were in a particularly playful mood because they started to dance and sing with the song. Trying to ignore them while answering the phone, I saw on caller ID that it was Missy. Let me call you right back.

Mary Jane had the full song ‘So What’ playing on her phone. They somehow managed to cajole me into dancing and singing with them.

A baby elephant has a better chance of winning a dance contest than I do. I have four notes I can hit when I’m singing. The bad news is they’re not together. I’m pretty tone deaf.

I was truly surprised the girls could dance and sing. They didn’t exhibit these talents very often. These rough-and- tumble girls were a constant source of amazement.

I’m a rockstar, Misty Dawn sang as she was grabbing a doughnut from the box they had brought in with them.

Choruses of ‘me too" from the rest of the girls had me seriously reconsidering the song as my ringtone. It never occurred to me that the song would release some primal desire for them to dance, sing, and gyrate. It was hard enough to sorta, maybe, keep them somewhat under control but the thought that my ringtone would cause them to unleash their inner dancing Marine was not a good thing.

No, no, no! I was starting to see flashing lights inside my head. My little hamster was spinning his wheel as fast he could go.

I inadvertently spilled some of my coffee on my laptop.

Hey, I was dancing, these things happen.

Nooo. I groaned, laying my head down on my laptop. Missy’s going to kill me for another dead computer. I continued to moan.

Missy’ll send you another one. Don’t worry about it. Flo started to laugh. Parker, we need to get Joe D. back into your life.

Mercy! I didn’t want my first love boyfriend Joe D. Savannah, owner of We Make Money, CPAs, back into my life. It was bad enough that he had just divorced wife number four or maybe it was number five, I couldn’t remember. He had already tried asking me out on a date since I was now spending way more time here in Po Ho. I was ignoring him.

Mary Jane chimed in with, I can help get you set up on some of my dating websites.

I’m so glad I didn’t change my ringtone. Note to self, don’t change it unless I clear it first with the girls. With the Lady Gatorettes perverse sense of humor a new ringtone could be devastating…or hazardous to my health.

Lifting my head from the laptop keyboard, Flo giggled and pointed her finger at me. You’ve got alphabet soup printed on your forehead.

Great. Now the keyboard gods are taunting me with their vicious brand of humor with the imprint of letters on my head. That’s it! I fumbled around on my phone for a few minutes. "My new ringtone is going to be Puddle of Mudd’s ‘Drift and Die’.

The girls looked at each other, grinned, and Mary Jane pointed at my phone. No, you’re not. We hate that song and you need to call Missy back. We don’t even like any of Puddle of Mudd’s songs. Stick with Pink.

They all grinned and did the Gator Chomp.

Nodding, I pushed the redial button for Missy. Sorry, we were having a little, um, discussion about my new ringtone.

Missy laughed. I’m guessing the girls aren’t a fan.

Clearing my throat, so ladylike I know, Well, apparently, it sparked a totally unexpected emotional response from them.

I’m not asking, Parker. She was brusque. You ready for the info on Imogene? If you are, put me on speaker so everyone can hear.

Y’all ready? The girls nodded their heads. Lay it on us, Missy.

Okay, did she tell you where she’s from?

Everyone shook their heads no. I don’t believe so, why? She doesn’t exist. There’s no Imogene Yankee in this country...and, before you ask, there’s not one in Canada or Mexico either.

Okay, this just became way more interesting. Why was a non-existent person interested in Miss Suzie’s Delicious CC Cookies? Who was she and where did she come from? What did she want? I had more questions than sprinkles on a doughnut.

Missy interrupted my thoughts. Parker, we’ve got a lot of stuff going on here. I’ll talk to you later.

I stared at my phone. Missy was usually the epitome of calmness and peace. After all, she had put up with my numerous variations of ‘normalcy’ since the very beginning of my company. For her to be short and then hang up on me indicated something very serious was going on. The thought entered my brain wondering if I should think about going back to Atlanta.

Do I need to come back? I texted her. The girls were all busy eating and chattering. In short, they were ignoring me.

Yellow iv, was her response.

Rut row! This wasn’t good.

Chapter 5

W e need to evacuate. Now.

The girls were a finely tuned trained team. I’m sure the Navy Seals