COZY MYSTERY: Wedding Bells & Murder?: A Margie Lauderdale Cozy Mystery (Book 2) Read online

  Wedding Bells & Murder?

  A Margie Lauderdale Cozy Mystery

  Liz Turner

  Free Bonus Book:

  Click here to receive a free copy of "Murder At The Menu Tasting" the prequel to "A Cozy Mystery in the Mountains" series. You'll automatically be added to our subscription list to be notified of new releases. As an added bonus you will also receive cooking tips from a certified chef.

  Other Cozy Mystery Books by Liz Turner:

  A Cozy Mystery In The Mountains Series:

  Murder on the Menu

  Trail Mix Murder

  Getaway to Murder

  Murder at the Festival

  A Rare Catch Cozy Mystery Series:

  Murder At Starlight Resort

  Murder At The Barbecue

  A Margie Lauderdale Cozy Mystery Series:

  French Cuisine Murder

  Wedding Bells & Murder?

  Copyright 2016 by Cabo Publishing Group - All rights reserved.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this publication or the information in it may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Liz Turner, Cabo Publishing Group.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Free Bonus Book:

  About the Author

  Other Books by Liz Turner:

  Chapter 1

  Margie got off of the train, feeling bedraggled. Her hat was askew on her head, her jacket was buttoned incorrectly, and it felt like she had forgotten to wash her face that morning. But none of that mattered now; she was home.

  The air felt different here in Bristol. There was something slower, calmer, less excitable than all of the other places she had traveled. Margie lifted her bag up over the edge of the platform away from the train. Pausing to savor the moment, she took a long, slow deep breath. She could smell the Douglas firs that grew all around town, making Bristol smell a little like Christmas all year round.

  The sun was a bright, round disk high in the sky when Margie finally stepped out from under the platform and into the light. It had been ages since she had been outside. Ages since she’d gotten to just stop and enjoy the weather or the scenery.

  Inhaling again, Margie stood on the old wood of the platform. It was painted with baby blue paint that chipped at the edges and was worn away in lines where everyone walked. It was a town lost in time; everything here was old, reused, repurposed, and precious. The boards creaked in time with her steps. There were some newer buildings on the outskirts of town where Bristol was slowly expanding, but the central part of town was beautifully out of fashion.

  Nothing had changed much that Margie could see, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

  Grabbing the handle of her suitcase in both hands, Margie waddled ungracefully towards the stairs that lead into town. There were a few other people coming in on the afternoon train from the south, but not many. Most of the traffic would come from the 5 o’clock mass exits from the cities back to the suburbs. She worked to stay out of everyone’s way, her pace slowed by the excess weight of her suitcase.

  At the bottom of the platform steps, there was a short walk to the two glass doors into the train station. Margie was sweating and puffing by the time she reached the exit.

  She could not wait to put this thing down.

  A very familiar car was waiting for her outside of the station. The words “Bristol County Police Department” were emblazoned down the side of the doors, and the word “POLICE” was written in all capital letters in white along its blue body. Margie could feel a grin splitting her face as noted two very familiar figures leaning against the car’s frame.

  “Margie!” One of the figures shouted, her face lighting up like fireworks. Camelia, still looking as bubbly as ever, ran towards her as she wobbled closer with her suitcase. The second figure joined her, a smile on his gruff features. Ray took the suitcase from her hands, handling it as though it weighed nothing at all. Once the weight of the case was off of her hands, Margie winced as the blood rushed back into her fingers.

  “Thanks, Ray, for coming to get me. I would have died lugging this thing back to the apartment.”

  “Anytime, Margie.” That sparkle in his face when he saw her was gone, replaced instead with the faint glow of friendship. Margie sighed in relief; it was nice to know that he’d seemingly gotten over his little crush on her while she was gone for the last several months. Perhaps he had a new girl; she surely hoped so. If anyone in this town deserved a good woman, it was indeed Officer Ray Brighton.

  As soon as she was relieved of her burden, Camelia threw her arms around Margie’s neck. “I missed you so much, Margie! How was culinary school? Did you learn to cook new things? Did you meet anyone fun? Did you meet anyone extra fun?” Camelia winked at her suggestively, and Margie blushed from her eyebrows to her collarbones. “Did you meet anyone famous in the city? What about...”

  Margie laughed, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. Seeing Camelia’s wide, green eyes made her heart feel a little lighter. “How about you ask your questions one at a time so I can actually answer them?”

  Ray laughed too. “Did you pass all of your exams, Margie?”

  “Yes,” she answered, a prickling feeling of pride in her chest. “I passed them all with flying colors.”

  “That’s amazing! We should celebrate at the Big Easy!” Camelia shouted. People turned to look and see what all the yelling was about, but Camelia seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was making a scene. She grabbed Margie’s arm and nearly dragged her to the police car.

  So it was agreed. Ray put Margie’s bag in the back of the police car, and they drove off to the Big Easy, the diner that Margie and Camelia had spent nearly every night of the week after work. Camelia and Margie slid into one side of the familiar booth, and Ray sat on the other, removing his hat and trenchcoat and placing them on the seat beside himself. “Thank you for letting me join you,” he said, a little too formally. He started arranging, then rearranging his silverware on his side of the table.

  “Have any exciting cases come around while I was gone?” Margie asked, trying to break the tension.

  Ray smiled up at her. “Nothing as exciting as when you’re around. All the real exciting ones seem to wait until you’re available.”

  Camelia nearly spat out her coffee as she laughed. “It’s true. I haven’t heard a peep from the news about anything crazy happening. All the criminals are sitting around, waiting for news of your return.”

  Seven years ago, when Margie had first come to Bristol, she had helped Ray with a murder case. After Ray and Margie teamed up so well, they secretly worked together on cases. Margie always brought a new perspective to Ray’s linear thinking, and the pair had solved more cases than not over the last seven years. Hard to believe it had been that long.

  “I sincerely hope not!” Margie laughed, her eyes watering as the waitress brought them some plate
s. The waitress was the same, sleepy waitress who had waited on them that first night, after her first day of work at the Bonne Table and many nights after that as well.

  “Welcome home, Margie,” the waitress said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Have a slice of pie on the house, darling.”

  A warm, bubbly feeling spread through her whole body. She was home, finally! “Thank you, Nina!” Everything here was so pleasantly familiar, from the retro 1950s feel of the chrome diner to the couples walking in front of the window. Amazing how the whole world could change so much around them, but the town of Bristol would stubbornly keep to its traditions.

  “So, what is a culinary school like?” Camelia asked, excitedly, her greens eyes glittering like jewels. Ray glanced up at Camelia, then turned to focus on Margie with an expectant look on his face.

  “It was the most intense thing I’ve ever done. They push you to your limit demanding excellent cooking, plating, and serving techniques. They observe, critique and encourage you on a daily basis. All the instructors there were masters of the trade. It was amazing,” Margie got lost in the memories for a moment, her eyes floating to the ceiling without seeing it. “It’s so much to learn in such a short period of time, we had a handful of students burn out and leave in the first two weeks. There were some seriously long, heavy days.”

  Camelia’s eyes widened. “No wonder you didn’t write me!”

  Margie laughed. “I only have had three days off all semester, and I spent most of those sleeping and filling out applications for apprenticeships all over the world. Luckily Mr. Bevins got back to me about the local one for this semester. It’s putting me ahead of the others. So I didn’t write anyone.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Ray finished off his coffee. “I should be getting back to work, ladies.” He stood, awkwardly, digging in his wallet for a dollar to throw to the table. “I will drop your suitcase off with the office manager at your building, Margie. Welcome home.” He was gone before either of them could say anything. They both stared at him, watching as he pushed his way out into the sunlight and back to his car.

  “That was strange.”

  Camelia made a face that Margie couldn’t quite read. “He’s always been strange.”

  “If you say so.” Margie stood up, bringing her coffee to sit on the other side of the table, facing Camelia. “That's much better. Just like old times!”

  “So how many days until you start your apprenticeship, Margie?” Camelia grinned up at Nina as she brought them both plates loaded down with pancakes. The two women dug into their stacks. Margie’s empty stomach protested at the sudden feast, but she ignored the grumbling and kept eating anyway.

  “I start officially in three days, but I was hoping to stop by and formally introduce myself before that. You know, start off on the right foot.”

  Camelia nodded. “That’s plenty of time to visit the Bonne Table. The crew has been asking about you for the last week, wondering if you were going to ignore them now that you are a big time chef.”

  Margie nearly choked on her pancakes. “Of course not! I’m just a student. I’ll have to wait to snub you guys until I’ve made it big.” The girls laughed over their food, and Margie could feel the knots loosen in her shoulders. The knots that had been there since she stepped foot in the all-male culinary school. She felt better being here, among people she could trust. People she loved. People who didn’t look down on her because she was tiny and female.

  Margie downed the rest of her coffee, savoring the taste. Being away from Bristol had been hard, and the school had been even harder, but Margie was sure it would all be worth it. She just had to prove her worth to the caterer, Mr. Bevins. After that, the rest would be easy sailing. Or so she hoped.

  Camelia and Margie walked back to the apartment, stomachs full, and Margie lay down almost as soon as she was in her room. Everything looked just as she’d left it, excepted a few places where Camelia had shuffled things around while dusting. The place felt unused. Margie thought to herself, I should change my clothes and unpack my things before she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Margie leaned against the doorframe, trying to keep out of everyone’s way. It was a bustling kitchen.There were servers and cooks frantically moving about yelling from one end of the huge kitchen to the other. She could do nothing but stare. Not even in her culinary school had Margie ever seen so many people working so in tune with one another so well. It was like a well-oiled machine and nothing she had ever seen before.

  The room clanked and clamored with a nearly a dozen people. The whole kitchen looked industrial, with some of the most expensive looking stainless steel equipment Margie had ever seen. There was a walk-in fridge, a massive deck oven and a collection of little gadgets Margie didn’t even recognize. Feeling woefully out of place, Margie tried to get her bearings while still managing to stay out of everyone’s way.

  Glancing around, Margie saw a huge pile of dirty dishes by the sink. That at least, she knew how to take care of. There was a small stack of drying towels by the sink and a clean-looking sponge and soap. She got to work, dwindling the pile to manageable levels while the cooks all kept adding new things for her to wash. As soon as the drying rack was full, Margie hand-dried and stacked the pieces on the other side.

  “New girl!” Margie looked up, her eyes meeting with a cook in his late thirties. Margie smiled, pausing in her washing to say hello, but he never gave her a chance. “Don’t bother trying to wash this one; Peter burnt the bottom, and it will have to soak. You’re doing a great job!” The cook winked at her before disappearing into the rush around the kitchen again.

  Her heart lifted at that; if they were busy today, she would do whatever she could to help. She studied the movements of the prep cooks in the kitchen as she worked. She spun and shuffled around the cooks to find a small container of baking soda and a lemon. She used these to scrub out the inside of the burnt pan. The crust came right off after the acids got to work, and she scrubbed it clean with minimal effort.

  Once the mad rush was done (a wedding order of nearly three hundred servings), all of the staff finally had a minute to catch their breaths. Having cleaned up nearly all of the dishes, Margie rested with them, her eyes roaming over the kitchen. She was trying to decide which one was this illusive Mr. Bevins. When the last of the servings was loaded into the van out back, the cooks collapsed as one, all of them wiping sweat from their brows.

  Margie's nervous energy wouldn’t die down, so she mixed up a small bowl of the restorative lemon-and-lime water with ice she drank whenever the culinary school had her working 16 hours shifts. It quenched the thirst and made Margie feel like she could do anything. These guys all looked like they could use a kick in the pants. Most of the cooks looked at her with curiosity, but others looked hostile like she didn’t belong.

  There only seemed to be one friendly face in the bunch, and his name was Marlin.

  “Wowee, girl, thank you. I needed this.” The man took another big sip, his very pale skin looking sunburnt from his exertion. “What is your name, my friend?”

  “I’m Margie, the new apprentice from the culinary school,” she answered, shyly, hyper-aware that the other cooks were listening intently.

  A huge grin spread across the pale man’s lips, his green eyes lighting up like Christmas. “I didn’t know they let girls into culinary school; good for you!” Margie wondered if he was actually excited for her or if this was more sarcastic insults like she’d gotten at the school.

  She smiled anyway, trying to think the best of him. “It’s hard work, and I’m here to learn everything I can from you all,” she said, trying to sound chipper and like she wasn’t trying to steal their jobs. Maybe if they didn’t think some girl was out to replace them, they would treat her more kindly. “I want to open up my own catering business some day, and I know I can do it if I get as good as you guys.”

  Perhaps she was laying it on a little thick, but the pale man seemed to react kindly to
her words, his grin growing even bigger. “That’s just fine. Marlin’s the name.”

  “So,” she started nervously, her eyes running over the crowd, “which one is Mr. Bevins?”

  Marlin laughed a little, his green eyes coming to rest on the young man who had complimented her while she was washing dishes. He just happened to be walking towards them. She blushed when she saw that Mr. Bevins was young and handsome! What a world; she never would have picked him out of this crowd to be the owner of this business. He’d been as hands-on as the rest of them were. He didn’t even look like a chef!

  But then again, to all of these men, Margie wouldn’t look like a chef either.

  “Now that we have a minute, New Girl, would you mind stepping back into my office? I’d like to get to know you a little before we start with assignments.”

  “Of course, sir. Thank you.”

  They walked through the kitchen together, and Mr. Bevins closed the door to his office behind himself. Margie stood by his desk, waiting for his to offer her a seat. She was going to do everything right today.