Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry Read Free

of emergency.” May stepped toward Skye andtook her hands. “It’s a good emergency. The best. You’ll never guess what’s happened.”
    “What?” Skye cringed. Her mother’s idea of
good
was often not close to Skye’s; heck, a lot of times they weren’t even in the same universe.
    “I’m a finalist in the Grandma Sal’s Soup-to-Nuts Cooking Challenge.” Grandma Sal’s Fine Foods was one of the area’s biggest employers. They operated a huge factory located between Scumble River and Brooklyn, Illinois, adja-cent to the railroad tracks that ran through both towns.
    “Wonderful.” Skye hugged her mom, happy for May and relieved for herself. A cooking contest would keep May occupied and out of Skye’s affairs. “Congratulations.”
    “Thank you.” May took a step back and wrinkled her nose. “You smell funny.”
    “I was painting my dining room. Remember? I told you I was taking this weekend to finally get some of the downstairs rooms done,” Skye reminded her mother, then added, “If you wanted me all clean and pretty, you shouldn’t have said it was an emergency.”
    “But it is an emergency. I needed to explain something to you before you answered your phone again.” May took a knife from the drawer by the stove and sliced into the wedding cake.
    Skye flinched, still unconvinced that her mother didn’t have a groom waiting in the den and a priest stashed in the linen closet. “Explain what?”
    “Sit down and I’ll tell you.” May handed Skye a piece of cake and a fork. “What do you want to drink with that?”
    A double martini straight up
? Skye settled for a glass of milk.
    May finally pulled a stool up to the counter next to Skye and said, “Now, I want you to promise that you’ll let me tell you the whole story before you say anything.”
    “Okay.” Skye frowned; she was a school psychologist, for Pete’s sake, a trained counselor. Did her mom really feel it necessary to remind her to be a good listener?
    “When I entered Grandma Sal’s contest, I couldn’t decide which recipe to use. Each entrant was only allowed tosend one, but how could I choose between my Two-Hour Decorated Cake and my Chicken Supreme Casserole?”
    Skye finished chewing and swallowed. “Well, I think you made the right decision; this cake is scrumptious. I didn’t know you knew how to make frosting decorations.”
    “Maggie taught me the basics.”
    Maggie was one of May’s best friends and the premier fancy-cake baker in Scumble River.
    “They’re beautiful. You must be a quick learner.”
    “Thanks.” May fiddled with her coffee cup. “Uh, I didn’t exactly choose the cake recipe.”
    “Well, your casserole is great too.” Skye forked another bite into her mouth.
    “I’m glad you feel that way.” May stared out the picture window and kept talking. “Because
you
entered the chicken dish.”
    “Huh?” Skye choked and had to take a swig of milk in order to speak. “I did what? Why? How?”
    “I wasn’t sure which recipe would get the judges’ attention.” May twisted a paper napkin into a raggedy bow. “The cake is more dramatic, but the casserole is more practical, so I wanted to enter both. I just needed another name to use, and I borrowed yours.”
    “Why me? Why not Aunt Kitty or your friend Hester or Maggie?”
    “They were all entering their own recipes. I needed someone who wasn’t.”
    “Then why didn’t you tell me?” Skye put down her fork; suddenly the sweet frosting curdled on her tongue.
    “Because you would have said no. Then I’d have had to use your father’s name, and you know he would have a coronary if I entered him in a cooking contest. He’s barely over the fact that I made him wear a pink shirt to the VFW dinner dance.”
    “Dusty rose,” Skye corrected, losing the thread of the argument.
    “Pink, red, it doesn’t matter what you call it; Jed still finds it hard to accept that dress shirts come in any color but white.”
    “Uh-huh, let’s get back