If Fried Chicken Could Fly
Read If Fried Chicken Could Fly Online
Authors: Paige Shelton
Tags: #General, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction
“Aw, Betts, what do you suppose happened in here? When did the cleaning people start just doing this?” Gram put her fists on her skinny hips.
It looked as though someone had just thrown, willy-nilly, mops, towels, sponges, and buckets to the floor. Where once there had been an organized room full of supplies, there was now a disaster.
“I don’t understand. I’ve never seen it like this. Do you suppose they were in a hurry last night?”
“This is worse than a hurry; it’s destructive,” Gram said.
I gently toed an overturned white bucket.
Gram gasped. “Betts! Is that a hand?”
I looked at the spot where the bucket had just been.
“Oh, Gram!” Yes, it was a hand.
Gram and I dove in and cleared the mess, throwing towels, brushes, and bottles full of cleaners every which direction. Seconds later, we uncovered the body of one Everett Morningside. We knew who he was because he had been Gram’s newest suitor and they’d planned on a late-night dinner that evening. A dinner that clearly wasn’t going to happen, because there was no doubt that Everett Morningside was no longer in any condition to eat.
• • •
Praise for Paige Shelton’s Farmers’ Market Mysteries
“Each page leads to more intrigue and surprise.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“A breath of summer freshness that is an absolute delight to read and savo….A feast of a mystery.”
—Fresh Fiction
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Paige Shelton
Farmers’ Market Mysteries
FARM FRESH MURDER
FRUIT OF ALL EVIL
CROPS AND ROBBERS
Country Cooking School Mysteries
IF FRIED CHICKEN COULD FLY
If Fried Chicken Could Fly
PAIGE SHELTON
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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.
IF FRIED CHICKEN COULD FLY
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Paige Shelton-Ferrell.
Cover illustration by Dan Andreasen.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-0-425-24585-9
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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For my wonderful editor, Michelle Vega.
I’m so glad you aren’t afraid of ghosts.
A special thanks to:
My agent, Jessica Faust. I still pinch myself sometimes just to be sure.
Michael Kennedy-Yoon and Katherine Kennedy, who baked my son the most delicious red velvet cake and then were willing to share the recipe.
Charlie and Tyler, my favorite guys. Our trip to Tombstone was a blast!
Fellow authors Riley Adams, E. J. Copperman, and Jenn McKinlay. I tip my hat to you.
When I was a little girl my parents made sure we frequently visited our relatives in Rolla, Missouri. There’s something about a place with family that sticks with you forever. The cooking school building in this series is based on a church building on the outskirts of Rolla. A few years ago my son and I were trudging through the cemetery next to it looking for my great-grandmother who died a tragic and gruesome death. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re getting ideas for books.
So, thank you Mom and Dad, the Grzybs, the Rothwells, the Lights, the Roaches, and the Sheltons. I love you all!
And an extraspecial thanks to Mrs. Lois Bowen, who many years ago made sure I had my great-great-grandmother’s funeral program and a picture of her on her eighty-second birthday. She was known as Missouri Anna and I hear she was pretty amazing.
CHAPTER 1
If the items in the cast-iron skillet hadn’t burst into flames just as Gram was dunking the coated chicken breast into the hot bubbling grease, we might not have found the dead body so soon.
As it was, we were in the middle of our evening class—Chicken: Sometimes You Gotta Keep That Skin on, Baby!—when the fire, with flames that licked the ceiling, lit fast and hot. Gram yanked her arm out of harm’s way and exclaimed, “Hells bells a-ringin’!” as the singed breast flew through the air and landed at the feet of one of our students, Mabel Randall, who stamped on it with her bright pink sneaker–clad foot.
Gram and I were coolheaded enough to reach for a couple handy extinguishers and take care of the fire in a quick and professional manner. We’d practiced, after all. No matter
how careful you were, you just couldn’t open a cooking school and not be prepared for such maneuvers.
The chicken class was one of our part-time evening courses and had only five students, who ranged in age from fourteen to seventy. We offered the evening classes because, though everyone wanted to learn how to cook like Gram, not everyone wanted to take it as seriously as our daytime students. The fifteen “daytimers” were all working toward a much-coveted certificate that would assist them in gaining positions as chefs in some of the best restaurants in the country. Other than Mabel, the other four “nighters” in attendance froze in place and watched as Gram and I pulled the keys and then the triggers on the bright red extinguishers, and shot down the flames.
Once the fire was out, replaced by white foamy powder and distinct stinky smells, we received a hearty and relieved round of applause.
“You okay, Mabel, Gram?” I said.
“I’m fine, Betts,” Mabel said as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Make sure your gram’s not toasted.”
I stepped toward Gram and grabbed the arm I’d seen in the middle of the flames.
“Oh, phoo, I’m fine. Didn’t even take the hair,” she said as I inspected her for harm. She seemed no worse for the wear.
“That was amazing,” Stuart Benson said, his eyes big behind thick lenses. Stuart was short, bald, and practically blind, but none of that kept him from being the most adorable old guy I knew, and a pretty darn good cook, too. I didn’t know his exact age, but I thought he must be close to seventy.
“Thank you, Stuart, but it should have never happened in the first place. I suppose that’s why you always have an extinguisher close by.” Gram inspected the mess. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel the rest of class. I’m sorry about the chicken disaster.”
Grumbles of understanding spread through the long kitchen. Mabel and her fourteen-year-old granddaughter, Amy, offered to stay and help clean up, but we sent them on their way and promised Mabel we’d buy her some new pink shoes. The other students, Jenna Hopper, a local bartender, and Miles Street, owner of the town pool hall, had been flirting anyway; they could probably figure out something to do with the time.
“Well, hang a hide, Betts. I don’t think there’s much permanent damage, but we’ll have to have the fire marshal come out and look at things tomorrow,” Gram said as the last of the students exited the kitchen through swinging doors that led to the reception area. “Come on, help me grab stuff to get started on cleaning it up.”
