Eggs in purgatory, p.25
Eggs in Purgatory, page 25
part #1 of Cackleberry Club Mystery Series
Brown sausage links and onions in skillet with oil. Drain, then place sausages and onions in a 9”x 13” baking dish. In medium bowl, beat eggs well. Add flour, water, and milk to eggs and beat all together vigorously. Let mixture rest for 5 minutes. Pour egg mixture over sausages. Bake in preheated 400° oven for 25 to 30 minutes, or until top is browned. Makes a great breakfast, or serve with a citrus salad for a main meal.
Blond Brownies
1 stick butter, softened (4 oz.)
1 cup brown sugar, packed
1 egg
1 cup flour
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/8 tsp. baking soda
Pinch of salt
3/4 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup semisweet chocolate bits (8 oz.)
Cream together butter and brown sugar, then beat in egg. Add flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, then stir together. Stir in nuts and chocolate bits. Spread batter in a 7”x 11” pan that has been greased and floured. Bake at 350° for 20 to 22 minutes.
Chicken and Wild Rice Soup
1/2 cup uncooked wild rice
4 tbsp. butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup celery, chopped
3 tbsp. flour
Salt and pepper to taste
1 can chicken broth (10 oz.)
2 cups milk
2 cups diced, cooked chicken
Prepare wild rice according to directions on package. Melt butter in large pot over medium heat. Add onion and celery, then saute” for 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in flour, add salt and pepper to taste. Add chicken broth and milk, then stir until soup thickens. Add cooked rice and diced chicken and simmer for about 10 minutes.
Easy Sour Cream Biscuits
2 cups self rising flour
1/2 tsp, salt
12 oz. sour cream
Mix all ingredients together, then form into a soft ball. Place on floured board and roll out to about half inch thickness. Cut out biscuits using a 2” round cutter. Place on greased baking sheet and bake at 425° for about 12 minutes or until browned.
Egg Tips and Factoids
from the Cackleberry Club
· For baking cakes, try to use medium to large eggs. Extra large eggs may cause your cake to fall once it’s cooled.
· To prevent eggs from getting tough and rubbery, always cook them using moderate (not high) heat.
· Don’t want to get stuck with rotten eggs? Then go ahead and test your eggs. A fresh egg will sink to the bottom in a bowl of salted water, but a bad egg will float.
· Be sure to keep your eggs refrigerated. They’ll age more in a single day at room temperature than they will in one week in your refrigerator.
· The breed of the chicken determines egg color. Breeds with white feathers lay white eggs, breeds with red or brown feathers lay brown eggs.
· Brown eggs are the “tough guys” of the egg world. They always have thicker shells than white eggs.
Turn the page for a preview of the next
Tea Shop Mystery by Laura Childs
OOLONG DEAD
Available from Berkley Crime!
OVERHEAD branches slapped at Theodosia’s cheeks, a crisp breeze nipped and pecked tendrils of auburn hair from beneath her black velvet riding cap. Sitting astride Captain Harley, a dun colored jumping horse, Theodosia Browning couldn’t have cared less as she charged her mount toward the fifth jump in the annual Charleston Point-to-Point race.
This pulse pounding, exhilarating ride was part of a high society weekend Theodosia felt lucky to participate in. The Wildwood Horse and Hunt Club, a club she’d ridden with before, had invited her to join them. One of their members, a regular steeplechase rider, had broken his collarbone a week earlier, and she was riding in his place.
And wouldn’t you know it? This was one of those amazing October days when the sky was a curtain of cerulean blue and every shrub and tree blazed red and gold.
Starting from the outskirts of Ruffin, where the horsey set mingled with Charleston society over mint juleps and bourbon and branch, the race course snaked alongside a country road, headed into deep woods, and ended at a makeshift
finish line some six miles away. It was a challenging course, littered with two dozen tricky jumps that included hedges, logs, fences, and muddy ditches. Heady stuff for Theodosia, who spent much of her time indoors.
Amidst the hiss and burble of teapots and the coming and going of customers, Theodosia Browning served as owner and proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop in Charleston, South Carolina’s historic district. For the past four years, she’d served tea, catered events, and dealt with the challenges of being a small business owner in a great big, ever-changing free market economy. No wonder, when it came to riding, she was also a fierce competitor.
Pounding down a long, sloping trail, Theodosia was happy to be far away from the viewing stand, hospitality tent, and inevitable TV cameras. The air was cooler here and the mossy, loamy scent of low country soil filled her nostrils.
As brush swooshed against her leather riding boots, Theodosia charged toward the always difficult in and out jump. Easing back on the reins just slightly, she tried to gauge her timing. At the last jump, Captain Harley had launched a little early and his back hooves had ticked down hard on the gate. Even though this in and out jump carried a greater degree of difficulty, Theodosia intended to take it cleanly.
Bending forward now, Theodosia felt the heave and shudder of the large horse beneath her and squinted intently as the double jump came into view. Her hands slid forward to grasp a fistful of the horse’s rough mane to insure she wouldn’t get left behind when the big horse launched. Then, forearms aligned with Captain Harley’s head, knees gripping the horse’s mud spattered sides, they were suddenly airborne.
Skimming over the first split rail fence with ease, they landed with a resounding thud that sent clods of mud flying. Captain Harley took one scrambling, bounding stride, then Theodosia felt his muscles gather again as they launched like a giant spring over the second fence.
Leaning back in her saddle, Theodosia prepared herself for the inevitable hard jounce when the big horse touched down. Felt a tingle of exhilaration mingled with accomplishment.
But Captain Harley suddenly stumbled, then lurched crazily, his landing completely off kilter!
Bad landing, Theodosia thought as she was jerked rudely in the saddle, her horse slaloming left, sliding a few feet, then crab stepping wildly off course!
What happened? she wondered. Bee sting?
Theodosia dug her heels into the horse’s sides and jerked hard at the reins, fighting to regain control. But her quick efforts weren’t enough. Something—some movement she’d also caught out of the corner of her eye—had spooked the big horse once again.
Leaning forward, Theodosia continued to jiggle at Captain Harley’s bit, trying to simmer him down. .
But Captain Harley, caught in his paroxysm of equine panic, was having none of it. Lips slicked back over long teeth, Captain Harley shook his great head from side to side, tossed his head back, and uttered a shrill, high-pitched whinny that sounded like a banshee’s shriek as it echoed through the depths of the piney forest.
He’s going to rear over backward, Theodosia thought to herself. And just as Captain Harley flung his head back for the second time and his front hooves churned wildly in the air, Theodosia felt herself beginning to slip backward. Gradually, inescapably, she was going to go down.
Theodosia, who’d been riding practically since she could walk, who’d been in tight jams before, did what any seasoned rider would do to save their own hide. She did a tuck and roll.
Only, in this case, it was more like a sickening, slow-motion summersault. First, Theodosia was staring at blue sky populated by airy puffs of clouds, then she had a view of sloppy mud, littered with pine needles. Back to a quick,
dizzying image of treetops, then another terrifying view of dark earth spinning toward her.
Thud.
A rude, teeth-rattling landing jounced Theodosia the full length of her body. As her breath was punched out of her, her head reeled, and a cloud of darkness began to descend. Hovering on the edge of consciousness, Theodosia willed herself to keep breathing, even as her mind seemed to spin like a centrifuge.
Moments crawled by as Theodosia lay huddled on the ground. Captain Harley was long gone, his hoof beats miniature thunder that echoed off the trees, then faded to nothing. Gradually, Theodosia felt dampness seep through her riding breeches, became aware of the rich, arboreal scent of forest floor prickling at her nose. She also felt a sharp stab of pain in her side.
Ribs cracked? Maybe broken?
And a raw, intense throb at the base of her neck.
Dear Lord, not my spine!
Theodosia’s eyes peeped open. Landing in a semi sprawled position, she found herself facing the second splitrail fence. Her nose and the left side of her cheek tingled hotly and she vaguely remembered scraping up against a creosote coated rail.
Staring at her boots, Theodosia gingerly tried to move her left foot. Though it felt strangely disconnected from the rest of her, the black riding boot bobbled to and fro just fine.
Feeling heartened, she tried the right foot. Again, a moderate amount of success. Deciding she might not be so badly injured after all, knowing she had to get to her feet before another horse and rider came charging through the jump, Theodosia let loose a slow groan and rolled over onto one side.
That’s when she saw a fresh spatter of blood tingeing a small patch of grass.
Bleeding? Where?
Her addled mind still wasn’t tracking properly. Theodusia peeled off her riding gloves and felt her face. Couldn’t detect any major cuts or scratches.
She slid off her riding cap, really a fancy hard hat, and released her mass of curly, auburn hair. She carefully patted her scalp. No dampness oozed, her skull seemed blessedly intact. So far so good.
Then... what? she wondered.
Twisting her neck slightly, feeling a rise of panic, Theodosia caught sight of more blood. And finally saw the body. Laying right there in front of her. A woman in a pale peach suit, crumpled horribly and slumped against the split rail fence.
Theodosia’s first panicked thought was that she’d run the poor woman down. Had crashed into her and unwittingly battered her with Captain Harley’s lethal, steel shod hooves.
That’s what I saw. That’s why Captain Harley freaked out! Oh dear Lord.
Theodosia pulled herself to her feet, staggered slightly, thought for sure she was going to be sick. Then she somehow got it together.
Managing another step, she went down hard on her knees beside the woman.
Is she breathing? Theodosia wondered. She tried to recall the ABC’s of first aid. Airway, breathing, circulation.
She touched two fingers to the front of the woman’s throat, just above the cameo that was pinned to her blouse, but could detect no pulse. She scanned quickly for some sign of injury, but saw none.
Gently, cautiously, Theodosia pushed the woman’s brown hair from her face. The woman’s eyes were shut tight; blood smeared her forehead and all the way down to the bridge of her nose. And, there, right between the woman’s eyes—Theodosia leaned in closer to look—was a small black
hole. The sort of entry hole a small caliber weapon might make.
Shocked, Theodosia stared into the woman’s slack face as the metallic, slightly cloying scent of blood wafted upward.
Theodosia squeezed her eyes closed, forcing herself to breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down. Not to panic.
She slowly opened her eyes and focused.
In the dim recesses of her brain, something about the woman struck her as being strangely familiar.
Theodosia rolled back on her heels and studied the woman again. She noted the thrust of the woman’s jaw, her high cheek bones, the spark of diamond studs in her ears. And was suddenly rocked to her inner core.
She knew this woman! Had seen her on TV just the other night. Had exchanged slightly unpleasant words with her a few months ago. Had... oh my gosh, it can’t be her!... had dated her brother!
It came to Theodosia in a wild rush of recovered memory, the name popping into her brain with so much force she swore it made a cartoon bubble above her head.
“Abby Davis,” said Theodosia, her voice rising as if it were a pleading, crying question. “Shot to death?”
She stared at the woman again as a sick feeling puddled in the pit of her stomach.
Last time Theodosia had come face-to-face with Abby Davis, they’d had a rather public disagreement. And now here she was, lying dead in front of her.
The coincidence, the irony, seemed almost too much for Theodosia.
Nerves on edge, she studied the body again. Noticed there was fresh dirt under the fingernails of Abby’s left hand. As if she’d attempted to pull herself along.
Shaking, feeling somewhat repulsed, Theodosia reached out and carefully shifted the body. It rolled over and settled lifelessly into a sad heap. The fingernails on Abby’s right hand were just as filthy.
Theodosia lifted her gaze to the bloodless pallor of Abby Davis’s face. It was a shocking contract to the cameo that glinted so hypnotically in the fading afternoon sun. Red, blue, and brilliant yellow stones shining brightly.
“What just happened here?” she muttered.
But there was no answer save the faint whisper and sigh of the forest.
Eggs Benedict Arnold
Don’t miss the next Cackleberry Club Mystery
When Ozzie Driesden, Kindreds local mortician, ends up on his own slab, the ladies from the Cackleberry Club launch their own investigation. But as friends become suspects, one suspect turns traitor.
Watch for the next Tea Shop Mystery also from Laura Childs and Berkley Prime Crime
Oolong Dead
A wild steeplechase through the South Carolina low country brings Theodosia face-to-face with a dead woman—and sparks the return of a boyfriend she never thought she’d see again.
And the next Scrapbooking Mystery
Tragic Magic
Design wise Carmela Bertrand of Memory Mine scrapbook store is tapped to create spooky set decorations for Medusa Manor, a new haunted house attraction in New Orleans. But a flaming body hurled from the third floor tower might just put a damper on the project.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Laura Childs, Eggs in Purgatory
