Cookies and Murder: Parker Bell Humorous Mystery, #7

By Sharon E. Buck

Po'thole has more than its fair share of mayhem, mischief, and murder. The local cookie factory is burned down and making Miss Suzie's Delicious CC (chocolate chip) Cookies more than slightly toasty. The cookie factory may or may not be part of a drug cartel aka the Bunny Hop Gang. The new owner of the cookie factory is found murdered.

Computer geeky nerd and bestselling author Parker Bell and the Lady Gatorettes, five hormonal University of Florida diehard football fans, have been accused of the untimely death of Miss Suzie.

What does the Bunny Hop Gang have to do with Miss Suzie's burned-down cookie factory and why are Parker and the Lady Gatorettes being accused of murder…once again?

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

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southern Chick Lit
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223945109

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

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 Wal-Mart 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

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