Through the Liquor Glass, page 25
“I talked to her this morning. She’s visiting an aunt in Syracuse. Now that she doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else, she’s looking at getting into investigative journalism, like she originally planned.”
“I hope that works out for her.”
Samantha had spent the years since her supposed death working as a waitress in Texas. Dominique had helped her establish a new identity and had stayed in touch with her over the years. Dominique had also helped Samantha fake her death. We’d learned that, among many other things, in the days following Nick’s arrest. Grayson had spent a lot of time talking with Samantha, and I’d been present for some of the conversations.
I’d guessed right about the reason why Samantha had felt the need to disappear. When an existing drug problem on the campus of Summerville College got significantly worse and a new designer drug appeared on the scene, Samantha had decided to investigate. She came to suspect that Professor Michael Feldbloom was using campus labs to produce the designer drug, and that he had ties to organized crime, but before she could get enough proof, one of the professor’s unsavory associates started following her everywhere. Then someone had tried to run her down with a truck.
With both her parents dead, she turned to her best friend, Dominique, for help. She’d heard that Grayson was planning to switch careers, and she hadn’t seen him for more than a year at that point, so she decided to leave him out of it. She thought her death would get written off as an accident. She certainly never wanted Dominique to come under suspicion for her murder. They’d pretended to have a falling-out in the hope that the professor and his associates wouldn’t suspect Dominique knew anything about Samantha’s investigation.
The houseboat was owned by a friend of Samantha’s. She knew that his family was wealthy and that the houseboat was insured, so she figured destroying it wouldn’t hurt the family too much.
A few months before Dominique—and Samantha—arrived in Shady Creek, a Summerville teen had died after taking tainted drugs. That was the kid I’d read about while I was on Dominique’s laptop. Samantha had babysat the boy when she was a college student. When she heard about his death, and the circumstances surrounding it, she decided she couldn’t keep hiding. She told Dominique that she wanted to finish what she’d started and gather the evidence needed to put Professor Feldbloom in jail. Together, they’d worked to do just that. But again, somehow, Feldbloom got wind of what was happening and sent Nick to get rid of Dominique. At that point, Samantha and Dominique were already on their way to Shady Creek to find Grayson. They were hoping to enlist his help to keep them safe until they had enough evidence to take to the police. It was only after Nick had killed Dominique that he realized Samantha was alive, after catching a glimpse of her in town.
Now, Nick and his uncle were both behind bars.
And I had Grayson back.
“Coffee’s almost ready,” he said as I shut the dishwasher.
“But not quite?” I asked, hopeful.
Grayson grinned and wrapped his arms around me, knowing what I was really asking. “We can definitely squeeze in a kiss.”
I’d completely lost track of time when the coffeemaker beeped. I broke away from Grayson reluctantly.
“I guess we should get back out there.”
“Before they come looking for us.” Grayson filled four mugs with coffee.
“Just remember . . .”
“Don’t mention your run-in with the murderer,” he finished for me.
“Exactly.” I didn’t want the evening ruined by my mom freaking out.
One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Anything else I shouldn’t talk about?”
“I don’t think so.”
His grin was full-fledged now. “So I can mention your tattoo?”
My eyes widened. “No way! My mom would ground me for life if she found out about it.”
Grayson laughed. “I’m pretty sure she can’t ground you when you’re in your thirties.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d still try.”
“Sadie? Grayson?” my mom called from the dining room. “Do you need help in there?”
“We’re fine!” I called back.
I shared a smile with Grayson.
Actually, we were better than fine.
With my heart full, I carried the coffee out of the kitchen.
Recipes
MAPLE BUTTER POPCORN
¼ cup popcorn kernels
3 tablespoons salted butter, at room temperature
3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
Pop the popcorn.
Brown the butter by heating it in a saucepan over medium low heat, stirring constantly. When the butter turns golden brown with brown flecks in it, immediately remove it from the heat and pour it into a heatproof bowl to halt the cooking process. Stir in the maple syrup. Drizzle over the popcorn and toss until evenly coated.
Serves 3 to 4 (if you’re willing to share!).
KISS OF THE CIDER WOMAN
2 ounces dry apple cider
4 ounces cranberry juice
1½ ounces ginger ale
If using chilled ingredients, combine the cider and cranberry juice in a glass. Add the ginger ale and stir. If the ingredients aren’t chilled, shake the cider and cranberry juice in an ice-filled cocktail shaker and strain into a glass. Add the ginger ale.
Makes one cocktail.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So many wonderful people have been involved in bringing this book to publication. I’m sincerely grateful to my agent, Jessica Faust, for helping me bring this series to life and to my editor, Elizabeth May, for helping me to shape and polish this manuscript. Carina Chao came up with the title for this book and Jody Holford kindly read an early version of the manuscript. The entire Kensington team has been fabulous and I’d like to extend a special thank you to Alan Ayers and Louis Mal-cangi for creating such gorgeous covers for the books in this series. I’m also grateful to Larissa Ackerman and the rest of the publicity department for all their hard work. Last but not least, thank you to my review crew, my wonderful friends in the writing community, and to all the readers who have come along on Sadie’s adventures in Shady Creek.
Keep reading for a special excerpt!
CLARET AND PRESENT DANGER
A Literary Pub Mystery
In this thrilling mystery by USA Today bestselling author Sarah Fox, deadly happenings stick around like red wine stains on white tunics when the Renaissance faire visits Shady Creek, Vermont.
The Trueheart Renaissance Faire and Circus has rolled into town, attracting locals who can’t wait to spend a few summer days lost in a whimsical world of all-knowing fortune-tellers and daring acrobats. Well-read pub owner Sadie Coleman is swept up in the magic herself when she serves drinks to the faire’s resident wizard, the shamelessly brazen illusionist Ozzie Stone, and scores two tickets to his dazzling performance.
Sadie has no complaints about indulging in a free show with her new beau, craft brewery owner Grayson Blake. But while Ozzie is an instant crowd-pleaser, the real surprise comes when he collapses in the middle of his set. It’s not part of the act—Ozzie is dead, seemingly poisoned by someone who wasn’t clowning around about writing the roguish showman’s final chapter.
The terrifying situation intensifies when the police eye one of Sadie’s employees, last seen caught in a suspicious fistfight at the fairgrounds. With so much at stake, Sadie must strain through a suspect list longer than her cocktail menu to find the real knave of a killer. But when another performer is murdered, it becomes clear that bringing the mixed-up murderer to justice will be about as dangerous as walking the high wire after happy hour...
Look for Claret and Present Danger on sale now!
Chapter 1
The sword blades glinted in the sunlight. The crowd watched with anticipation as the weapons clanged together again and again. The duelers managed to make it look like their fight wasn’t choreographed, and now and then they hurled Renaissance insults at each other. Both men wore a combination of leather and plate armor but still managed to lunge and dodge with relative agility. I wasn’t sure how they could stand the heat in their costumes. Summer was in full swing in Shady Creek, Vermont, and the sun was beating down from a gorgeous blue sky.
The taller of the two fighters parried a blow and then moved in for the kill. His opponent gasped as the sword blade slid between his arm and side, appearing from my vantage point as though it had pierced his abdomen. The wounded man staggered before dramatically falling to the ground.
The other man raised his sword in victory.
“Huzzah!” the crowd cheered, and I joined in.
“He killed him!” nine-year-old Kiandra Williams exclaimed as the crowd slowly dispersed, everyone moving on to check out other parts of the Trueheart Renaissance Faire and Circus.
“It was just pretend,” my best friend, Shontelle, reminded her daughter.
“I know,” Kiandra said. “I like the sound the swords make when they hit each other.” She bounced up onto the balls of her feet. “Can we go watch the acrobats now?”
I checked the time on my phone. “It would probably be a good idea to go find seats.”
The three of us made our way toward the red-and-white-striped tent that stood near the far end of the park, which had been transformed into a Renaissance village for the duration of the two-week event. This was my first time attending a Renaissance faire, and although I’d been at the park for less than an hour, I was already thoroughly impressed.
There were various stalls and huts where people in period costume demonstrated skills such as glassblowing, metalworking, basket weaving, leatherworking, and candle making. Many of the goods the craftsmen and craftswomen had made were available for sale, and I was considering doing some early Christmas shopping before the faire was over.
Musicians had gathered on a small stage and were playing a variety of instruments, including lutes, violins, and others that I couldn’t name. Food vendors sold snacks from huts, and a tavern had been set up in one of the larger structures, where adult fairgoers could sit down for a meal and enjoy a tankard of ale. Here and there, costumed actors interacted with each other and with the spectators. Kiandra, like many other children at the faire, had already had her face painted. She now sported a unicorn on one cheek and a butterfly on the other.
At the entrance to the tent, we handed over our tickets to a woman in a tight-fitting bodice and full skirt, with a crown of flowers in her dark hair. Bleachers provided the unassigned seating in the tent. We’d arrived early, so we had our choice of spots. We decided on the third row back in the middle section.
“Sit next to me, Sadie,” Kiandra requested as she plopped herself down on the bench.
I did as asked, and Shontelle sat on Kiandra’s other side.
“We’ve got a good view from here,” I said.
Kiandra’s gaze traveled up and up. Her eyes widened. “Look how high that is!”
I followed the finger she was pointing up toward the ceiling of the tent. Way up high was a tightrope, as well as two trapezes. I wouldn’t have the nerve to climb the ladder to get up that high, let alone swing out on a trapeze or balance along a wire.
I also noticed some silks hanging from the metal framework up near the tent’s ceiling. I’d never watched a live performance with aerial silks, but I had seen one on TV and thought we could be in for a spectacular show.
When I’d first heard that the Renaissance faire was coming to my adopted home of Shady Creek, Vermont, the fact that it included circus elements had surprised me. Apparently, the faire had previously been more traditional but had recently added new attractions. Most people I knew were excited to take in both aspects of the faire, and so was I, starting with the acrobats’ show that was about to start.
The bleachers quickly filled with spectators, and soon the lights dimmed. As the tent grew darker, I caught sight of a thin girl with wavy blond hair slipping into the tent while the ticket lady had her back turned. The girl appeared to be about eight or nine years old and didn’t look familiar, but I didn’t have a chance to notice anything more about her. She disappeared behind the bleachers, and music began to play, signaling the start of the show.
For the next hour, we were wowed by the high-flying feats of half a dozen acrobats. They walked the high wire, swung on the trapezes, flew through the air, and performed with the aerial silks. Kiandra was riveted the entire time.
“I want to do that,” she whispered as a young woman let go of one trapeze and soared through the air before another acrobat on the second trapeze caught her.
“I don’t think so,” Shontelle said with alarm.
“Please!” Kiandra turned her beseeching eyes on her mother.
Shontelle put a finger to her lips. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She shot me a look of dismay over Kiandra’s head. I didn’t blame her for her concern. The thought of Kiandra flying through the air way up high terrified me, and she wasn’t even my daughter.
At one point, I caught another glimpse of the blond-haired girl who’d sneaked into the tent. She watched the show from between two sets of bleachers, her eyes as wide as Kiandra’s. When the show finished, I looked for her again, but she was nowhere to be seen.
As we headed out of the tent, Kiandra bounced up and down between me and Shontelle, chattering nonstop about the amazing feats of the acrobats. She eventually wound down and asked for a snack. Shontelle and I were hungry too, so we wandered away from the tent, in search of something to eat. Along the way, we paused to study a poster affixed to the wall of one of the thatched huts. The poster advertised the most talked-about and anticipated attraction of the entire faire. Illusionist Ozzie Stone would be performing in the main tent each night.
I’d heard of Ozzie Stone before the faire had arrived in Shady Creek. He’d appeared on a televised nationwide talent show a year or so ago, and his star had been on the rise ever since. I’d hoped to catch one of his shows, but when I’d inquired at the gate that morning, I’d been informed that the tickets for all his performances were already sold out. That had disappointed me, but I was still determined to enjoy the faire as much as possible.
We moved on from the poster and spotted a hut with a sign that read ROSIE’S FARE. Another sign indicated that the vendor sold burgers, fries, cheese melts, and milkshakes. Before we reached Rosie’s Fare, we paused to watch a juggler performing for passersby. He looked to be in his midtwenties and had curly brown hair. At the moment he had four beanbags in the air. He wrapped up the juggling act by catching all the beanbags. The crowd applauded, and he bowed.
“Now for some magic,” he told everyone who was watching.
He had three upside-down cups on a roughly hewn wooden table. He picked up one of the cups and placed a ball beneath it.
As he opened his mouth to speak to the crowd again, another man strutted over to his side, a self-assured smile on his face. I knew who he was right away—illusionist Ozzie Stone. He wore a white shirt beneath a blue velvet cape with a black silk lining, just like in the photo on his poster. He had piercing blue eyes, and his jet-black hair was a little on the long side. Despite the beautiful summer weather we’d been having in Vermont, I suspected his deep tan had been sprayed on.
There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd. I clearly wasn’t the only one to recognize the illusionist.
“Lords and ladies,” Ozzie said to the crowd, “if it’s magic you desire, it’s magic you shall get.” He whipped a blue mug out from beneath his cape and snapped his fingers. “Water, please, Tobias.”
The juggler frowned but handed over a small pitcher of water that had been sitting on the table.
“Observe,” Ozzie commanded, “as I instantly turn this water into a block of ice.”
A hush fell over the crowd as he poured the water into the blue mug. As soon as the pitcher was empty, he turned the mug upside down. No water flowed out, but a small block of ice fell into Ozzie’s waiting hand.
The crowd cheered, me included.
“That’s so cool!” Kiandra exclaimed with delight.
It seemed Ozzie had captivated her almost as much as the acrobats had.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the curly-haired juggler slink away, looking disgruntled. I couldn’t blame him. Ozzie really had stolen his thunder, and he wasn’t finished yet. For his next trick, Ozzie produced a small piece of paper and had a woman from the audience sign her name on it. He rolled up the paper and held it up for all of us to see. Then, with a flick of his hand, he made it disappear.
He fished a lemon out of his pocket, showed it to us, and then cut around the middle of it with a knife. When he pulled the two pieces of the lemon apart, a rolled-up paper protruded from one half. Ozzie removed the paper, unrolled it, and had the woman from the audience confirm that it was the same paper she’d signed. We all burst into applause as Ozzie bowed.
While the illusionist posed for selfies with fairgoers, we headed over to Rosie’s Fare and purchased our snack, which turned out to be more of an early lunch. Shontelle bought some fries and a cheese melt to share with Kiandra, and I bought a cheese melt for myself. All three of us ordered chocolate milkshakes. We needed something cold to drink to keep us from getting too hot in the summer sunshine.
I gave myself a brain freeze with the first sip, but after that I drank more slowly and was able to enjoy the delicious creaminess of the chocolate shake. The cheese melt was heavenly too, and it calmed the growling of my hungry stomach. We ate at a rustic picnic table, watching the goings-on around us.
At one point a stout, costumed man came stumbling out of the tavern, another actor following on his heels.
“Away, you varlot! You rampallian!” shouted the taller man from the tavern’s doorway. “I’ll tickle your catastrophe!”
