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    Maple Syrup Murder: Oh Fudge! Cozy Mystery Series, #1
    Maple Syrup Murder: Oh Fudge! Cozy Mystery Series, #1
    Maple Syrup Murder: Oh Fudge! Cozy Mystery Series, #1
    Ebook73 pages57 minutes

    Maple Syrup Murder: Oh Fudge! Cozy Mystery Series, #1

    By Grace Lemon

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    *** Coffee Break Cozies – Delicious Cozy Mysteries You Can Devour in One Sitting!***

    Welcome to Cider Island – a town where anyone who’s anyone knows something about someone. It’s just that kind of place. And things get a whole lot stickier for the residents when a businessman visiting the island ends up smothered at the local sugar bush.

    With maple syrup season in full swing, Ida Noe’s fudge shop is busier than a centipede at a toe counting contest – especially when she’s invited to showcase her world famous Maple Bacon Fudge at Sweeney’s Sugar Bush. All is sweet until some poor sap kicks the bucket in the sugarhouse and all fingers point to Ida’s best friend Maura Sweeney.

    With the help of her lumpy black Lab and origami loving friend, Ida is determined to “tap” the real killer and prove that maple can indeed be murder.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGrace Lemon
    Release dateSep 6, 2016
    ISBN9781536533903
    Maple Syrup Murder: Oh Fudge! Cozy Mystery Series, #1

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      Book preview

      Maple Syrup Murder - Grace Lemon

      Chapter One

      Ida took a step back and squinted at the vacant store next to her fudge shop.  The foggy neglected pane of glass now showcased a large sheet of crinkled brown paper that stretched across the window with the words ‘Opening Soon’ printed neatly in black marker.  That was quick, Ida whispered to Smudge, her trusty black lab, who was eagerly sniffing the sidewalk at her feet.   Freaky Freddy had only closed up his man-tique store a few days prior and the real estate agent said it would be late spring, closer to tourist season before anyone would be interested in leasing it.

      Ida wilted as the boxes of fudge, stacked like Jenga blocks in her arms began to get heavy.  She ordered Smudge to sit as she balanced the pile on one outstretched arm, bracing it against the edge of navy painted wood that surrounded the door, and rummaged in her pocket for the keys to her shop. 

      Can I give you a hand ma’am?

      Only if I can keep it.  An extra one would sure be helpful, Ida answered without turning around to see the man standing behind her.  Nothing was going to distract her from opening the stubborn door and putting down the mountain of teetering boxes that now felt as heavy as a baby elephant. 

      Let me get those.  The man lunged for the mound of pick and white bakery boxes, allowing Ida to catch a glimpse of his stiffly pressed navy police uniform and inhale the overpowering scent of his Old Spice aftershave.  Ida spun the key, praying the door would unlock, and with a bump of her hip, catapulted herself through the door when it finally swung open. 

      I’ve got it, Ida announced, slapping her hand on the top box to hold the pile steady as she stumbled inside.  If it had been anyone else offering to help, anyone at all from her small town of Cider Island, Ida would have been grateful, even thankful.  But Grover Webb, the rookie police officer, with far more brawn than brains, was new to town and so far hadn’t made much of an impression on her or the other townsfolk—except for maybe Jordie-Sue Reid who told Ida he was the hunkiest thing to come to Cider Island since Clint Eastwood passed through on his way to a movie shoot 10 years ago. 

      Without an invitation, Grover followed Ida into her shop.  Ida knew why he was there, but she wasn’t about to make his life easy.  I’m not open yet, and this fudge is just leftovers from yesterday, Ida barked over her shoulder, carrying the remnants of sweet creamy fudge to the back of the store.  There will be fresh fudge on the shelves in a few hours though.

      Ida breathed deeply as the familiar fragrance of sugar, butter and pure maple syrup wafted through the tiny kitchen at the back of her shop.  Normally the aroma would have put a smile on her face, reminding her of her mother and how beautiful she looked in her red apron, stirring the copper pot until the fudge thickened.  But Officer Webb had put Ida in a sour mood and she knew he wasn’t going away any time soon.  He would surely have plenty of questions about what happened at Sweeney’s Sugar Bush. 

      Ida lifted her apron from the hook and looped it over her head.  Humph, she snorted.  I swear someone cuts these ties shorter when I’m not here, Smudge.  Ida’s hefty black lab watched her closely as she sucked in a breath and quickly tied her apron strings in a knot around her waist before forty years of fudge making spilled over the top. 

      Feeling like ten pounds of potatoes that had been stuffed into a five pound bag, Ida returned to confront Officer Old Spice.  What can I do for you, Officer?  Ida waddled toward the front of the store, her knees aching from the climb up Maura Sweeney’s steep driveway the day before.

      I’m here to collect some information about what happened at Sweeney’s sugar bush yesterday.

      Okay, Ida shrugged.  What would you like to know?

      Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?  I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.  The boyish looking twenty-something with perfectly coiffed hair, stuck out his hand, gripping Ida’s a little too firmly. 

      Easy there, hulk, Ida winced as she shook the man-child’s hand.  His palm was warm and supple, a stark contrast to her calloused, dry skin that had been weathered by 62 years of cold Canadian winters. I’m Ida Noe, welcome to Cider Island. 

      The handsome police officer scribbled her name into his notebook and Ida waited.  Wait for it.  Here it comes, any second now.  Ida knew the routine like the back

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