Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry Read Online Free PDF

best-selling cookbook author; and Paul Voss, the restaurant critic for Chicago’s leading radio station.”
    Skye studied the first judge. Even adding the weight of the gold and diamonds she was wearing, Ramona couldn’t possibly top the scale at a hundred pounds. Skye wondered if the food editor ever actually ate anything.
    Next to the tiny raven-haired judge, Alice looked almost hulking, although she probably was no more than a size twelve or fourteen. Skye nodded to herself in approval. If you were going to write cookbooks, you should at least look as if you tasted your own recipes.
    The male judge stood a little apart from the women, his unnaturally blue eyes shooting sparks of disdain. Something about him reminded Skye of an evil Santa. She wasn’t sure if it was the red pants, hat, and shoes, the white goatee, or the bowl-full-of-jelly belly.
    After the judges came onstage, Grandma Sal turned to the wings and extended her right hand. “Now let’s meet the contestants. First, Mrs. Cherry Alexander, a writer from Laurel Lake who is competing in Special-Occasion Baking.”
    Skye smiled. Good. She could avoid Cherry, since they weren’t in the same category. It wasn’t as if Skye would take first in her group and go up against the other three winners for the grand prize.
    Several other contestants were introduced before Grandma Sal got to the attractive blonde with the injured leg. “Monika Bradley owns her own accounting firm and comes to us from Brooklyn. She is competing in the Healthy Foods division.”
    Dang, a CPA, not a nurse or teacher. So far Skye was zero for one.
    A few more finalists had their fifteen seconds of fame; then the 1950s woman stepped forward, and Grandma Sal said, “Diane White is a cookie blogger from Clay Center, Special-Occasion Baking.”
    Okay, no one would have guessed cookie blogger for aprofession. Skye’s brows met over her nose in an irritated frown. What was a cookie blogger, and was it even a real occupation? Fine, she had one more chance.
    The linebacker was the last contestant to be introduced, and before Grandma Sal could speak, a dozen or so men in the audience stood up, stamped their feet, and whistled. Skye couldn’t see very well past the footlights, but the guys in the cheering section looked mighty big. Maybe the finalist really was on a football team.
    Finally the crowd settled down, and Grandma Sal said, “Last but certainly not least is Janelle Carpenter from Granger. Janelle is a prison cook and will be competing in the One-Dish Meals category.”
    Yikes
! That was Skye’s group. Could all those men cheering be ex-cons? If so, it was a good thing Skye didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning.
    What seemed like hours later, Grandma Sal finally finished her welcoming speech, which had included the history of the company and a loving description of every division and every product sold.
    As soon as the older woman relinquished the mike, Mayor Leofanti grabbed it. Skye cringed. Dante was less than five-six, and he carried all of his considerable weight in his chest and stomach. With his thick gray hair slicked back, red nose, and black suit, he looked like a penguin, only not as distinguished.
    While Dante started, as expected, by thanking everyone and their dog for helping make this event possible, Skye’s stomach growled. She’d had her normal breakfast of an En-glish muffin and tea at eight o’clock, but it was already past noon, and they still had the media questions to face before they would be escorted to the luncheon being held at the Feed Bag, Scumble River’s only sit-down restaurant. Wouldn’t it be ironic if she starved to death at a cooking contest?
    Dante paused, then began his closing remarks. “Grandma Sal’s Fine Foods has been a part of Scumble River for close to forty years. Mrs. Fine and her late husband built thefactory here in the nineteen sixties, and pretty near saved this town from dying out. They have employed many of