A Roux of Revenge
Authors: Connie Archer
Praise for
A Spoonful of Murder
“Snow in Vermont, soup, and murder. What could be more cozy? . . . A charming new amateur-sleuth series.”
—Julie Hyzy,
New York Times
bestselling author of
the White House Chef Mysteries
“An engaging amateur sleuth due to the troubled heroine and the delightful Vermont location.”
—
Genre Go Round Reviews
“Plenty of small-town New England
charm.”
—
The Mystery Reader
“A ‘souper’ idea for a cozy mystery series! . . . [Archer] has set a great foundation for this series. We have met the star and recurring characters and they have been left with plenty of room to grow. The setting is ideal.”
—
Escape with Dollycas
“The way cozies should be written. A small town with lovable characters and a plot that leaves you satisfied
at the end.”
—
Girl Lost in a Book
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Connie Archer
A SPOONFUL OF MURDER
A BROTH OF BETRAYAL
A ROUX OF REVENGE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
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A ROUX OF REVENGE
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2014 by Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
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For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-13802-5
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / April 2014
Cover illustration by Cathy Gendron.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
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.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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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For Tom
Acknowledgments
With thanks and much appreciation to Paige Wheeler of Folio Literary Management for her hard work, good advice and expertise, and to Faith Black and Kayleigh Clark of Berkley Prime Crime for their enthusiasm and support of the soup lover’s mystery series. And thank you to everyone at Berkley Prime Crime who had a hand in bringing this series to life.
Many thanks as
well to the writers’ group—Cheryl Brughelli, Don Fedosiuk, Paula Freeman, R. B. Lodge and Marguerite Summers—for their criticism and encouragement. And a special thank you to William M. Walker for his knowledge of bagpipes and Scottish laments and to Adam Smith of the University of Glasgow for his Gaelic expertise. Last, but certainly not least, special thanks to my family and my wonderful husband
for their tolerance in living with a woman who is constantly thinking about ways to kill people.
CONNIE ARCHER
CONNIEARCHERMYSTERIES.COM
FACEBOOK.COM/CONNIEARCHERMYSTERIES
TWITTER: @SNOWFLAKEVT
Contents
Chapter 1
N
ATE EDGERTON, SNOWFLAKE’S
Chief of Police, reached over and flipped off the siren and flashing light. He pulled his cruiser to the side of the road, slowing and coming to a stop behind a
bright blue sports car. Early morning sunlight reflected off the rear bumper of the car where two people, a young couple, sat huddled together. Nate could tell from their expressions there was no need to hurry.
He turned to his deputy. “Cancel the ambulance.” Nate heaved a sigh and climbed out. He already knew what he’d find in the ditch—a mangled body or bodies trapped in an equally crushed
vehicle. Not how he wanted his day to go. His spirits had been high when he’d left home that morning. He had impulsively hugged his wife and kissed her quickly on the cheek. It was a golden October day. Indian summer warmth lingered over the countryside, and a brilliant glow of crimson and orange covered the trees, leaves unwilling to submit to the coming winter.
He turned back to the cruiser
and leaned into the driver’s window. “Get their plate number and run it. And get hold of somebody in Lincoln Falls for a coroner’s van.”
Bradley nodded and, following Nate’s orders, began to make the calls. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to see any blood today.
“And after you’ve done that, talk to those two.” Nate indicated the young couple by the sports car. “Get their information,
and don’t let ’em leave just yet.” Nate straightened up slowly, holding a hand against his stiff back, and approached the pair. “You the folks who called this in?”
The man nodded. His arm was slung protectively around the shoulder of the woman who sat next to him. Her face was pale and pinched.
“Did you both go down to have a look?” Nate asked.
“Yes, we . . . well, I got there first.
I told my wife to go back, not to look.”
“I see.” Nate nodded. “My deputy will get your information, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
Nate doubted the couple was mistaken, but he needed to make sure. He walked to the edge of the road and gauged the distance to a white van tilted forward into the soft earth below him at a twenty-five degree angle. He grasped a sapling that clung
to the side of the ditch, and doing his best not to slip or tumble, stepped sideways down the slope. He took note of the footprints in the soft earth, one set larger and deeper than the other. As careful as he was, he was barely able to keep from sliding the rest of the way down into the gully.
The windshield of the van had shattered from the impact. Probably from the victim’s head, he guessed.
Nate peered through the open driver’s window. The body of a man dressed in casual work clothes was splayed over the steering wheel. His face, pressed into the shattered windshield, was striped with rivulets of blood. Sightless eyes were open, fixed at a place well beyond the ditch in which he lay.
