Nothing can spoil this cat’s appetite . . .
Chase poured herself a second cup of cocoa, leaving the marshmallows off this time. Besides, there were some wisps clinging to her cup that would melt in nicely. “Did Larry’s wife—Elsa?—give you any more details about what happened?”
“Yes, Elsa Oake. We got sidetracked by those two and their butter sculpture history, didn’t we?” Anna gazed into her cup.
“Oh, you’re empty. Do you want another cup?”
“No thanks, Charity.” Anna hesitated, setting her mug aside and rubbing Quincy’s right ear. “Elsa told me everything she saw, and it’s not good. She was supposed to meet her husband at the food trailers for an early lunch. He’d been doing some preliminary work on his sculpture in the morning.”
“And he didn’t show up, I’m guessing.”
“Right. So she went looking for him. She said she opened the door to the butter room and saw her husband on the floor and Quincy licking the sculpture. When she called her husband’s name, Dr. Ramos blocked her way. That’s when she screamed.”
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Janet Cantrell
FAT CAT AT LARGE
FAT CAT SPREADS OUT
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
FAT CAT SPREADS OUT
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2015 by Penguin Random House LLC.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62164-6
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / June 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
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Acknowledgments
I must thank several people who helped out with Fat Cat Spreads Out. I, of course, didn’t write this all by myself in a closet without asking anyone any questions. When you belong to the friendly, supportive community of mystery writers, there’s always help available. Thanks in particular to the following:
My agent, Kim Lionetti, as always, and my editors, Danielle Stockley and Michelle Vega, as well as every member of the Berkley Prime Crime team.
For synopsis help, Peg Cochran. For pet recipes and sheep consulting, KB Inglee and Bodge. For generous bidding on the name that I gave to the redheaded travel agent, Marisa Young. For taste testing the Harvest Bars, members of Ben Egner’s family, mainly Dani, Jack, and Nancy. For being astute and valuable readers, Kathy Waller, Gale Albright, and Paula Benson.
My family gives me all the support in the world, and I’m grateful for every one of them.
I want to mention the late, great rescued feral cat Agamemnon, who lived a good long life, kept us amused, and inspired many of Quincy’s antics. Thanks, Erin Rotunno and Jess Busen, for bringing him and James into our lives.
And last, Skott Johnson, the president of the Dinkytown Business Association, whom I forgot to thank in Fat Cat at Large. I apologize for this, as the assistance he gave me was a huge help.
Contents
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Janet Cantrell
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
Recipes
ONE
Charity Oliver, usually called Chase, smiled as she handed the bag of dessert bars to the customer and took her money.
“I just love these Hula Bars,” the customer said. “My grandkids do, too. I can’t keep them in the house.”
The satisfied woman left the shop with her pineapple-coconut treat, setting off the tinkling chimes above the door. A bit of brisk October air whooshed in before the door closed.
At last, the shop was empty. The Bar None had done great business today, nearly nonstop. But there was so much else to do right now!
Chase let her cheek muscles relax from all the hours of smiling. They almost hurt. Still, business was good and she couldn’t complain. She surveyed her domain—hers and Anna’s.
The salesroom design had been handled by Chase alone, and she was so proud of it. The walls were striped the colors of raspberry and vanilla, set off by the cotton-candy-pink shelving that held boxed dessert bars. The glass display case near the rear of the salesroom housed fresh merchandise, dessert bars made by Chase and Anna in the kitchen behind the front area.
“Ms. Oliver,” said Inger, the sales clerk, “I can stay out here if you want to get off your feet.” Her smoky gray eyes smiled with the rest of her small, pretty face. The standard mulberry smocks they all wore in the salesroom, with pink rickrack and the embroidered Bar None logo, suited Inger’s blonde coloring. Her curls bounced when she nodded at the customers, who seemed to genuinely like her.
Chase wondered if Inger’s offer to let Chase rest was a veiled reference to the fact that her employee was a good ten years younger than Chase’s thirty-two, but decided it wasn’t. Inger was a genuinely kind and guileless young woman. Inger had taken a break about two hours ago, so it was Chase’s turn.
“Thanks, Inger. Holler if you get swamped.” Chase pushed through the swinging double doors to the kitchen, where Anna was working, and took a seat on one of the stools at the center island. The aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin spice wafted through the room.
Chase picked up the cup of tea, now cold, that she’d left there hours ago.
“She’s a gem, Charity,” Anna said. “You did well to hire Inger.” Today, her periwinkle-blue eyes sparkled, picking up the sapphire tones of her sweater, even though all you could see of it were the sleeves beneath her Bar None apron. The rest of her outfit was her usual plain T-shirt and jeans. Her grandmotherly build and gray bobbed hair gave no indication of the fact that, in her seventies, she could work circles around Chase.