Free Stirring the Plot (A Cookbook Nook Mystery) by Daryl Wood Gerber

the
Crystal Cove Crier
, pulled to a stop on his mountain bicycle. He looked quite fit in snug biker pants and shirt. I knew he worked out. Had he doubled up on his regimen? A lock of dark hair spilled from beneath his helmet. He tucked it back in and grinned. Bailey believed he might have had some dental work done. She was probably right. His incisors didn’t look nearly as fanglike.
    “
Hola, chica
,” he said, then quickly revised, “Hi, Jenna.” I’d made it very clear that I hated when he called me
chica
. “Beautiful day, no?”
    “Yes.”
    “It is a shame about Dr. Thornton.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “She will be missed. Is there a story there?”
    “What kind of story?” I asked, deliberately being evasive.
    He offered a wry look. “Care to comment?”
    “No.” I held up my hands. “Ask the police.”
    As he rode off, a pack of ladies all dressed in gingham and looking like Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
, right down to their pigtails and freckles, hurried past me, each chattering with excitement. “Hello,” they trilled in unison.
    I trailed them into the shop. No one in the store blinked an eye at the women’s outfits. It was almost Halloween, after all. Each lady carried a cloth tote emblazoned with a movie image of Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow skipping along the yellow brick road.
    “Ooh,” one of the women said as she browsed the display tables. “Look, girls. An Oz cookbook.” She plucked a book from a specialty shelf. I had ordered cookbooks that featured movies and television. “
Cookin’ in Oz.
How darling.” She turned to me. “Miss, are you the owner? We’re a Wizard of Oz book club. Can you help us?”
    I had heard of dedicated groups like theirs. Most had read the entire set of Baum books. I remembered my grandmother reading original copies of
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
,
The Marvelous Land of Oz
,
Dorothy and the Wizard
, and more to me. I’d blissfully reread them in my teens during an especially rainy week. Sometimes there was nothing better than a dreary day when all I could do was read. With the trauma of Pearl’s death still cycling through my brain, I wished for one of those rainy days right now. I would close the shop and cuddle beneath a comforter and cry. But that, as my father would say, would not be productive, and I needed to feel productive.
    To take my mind off the murder, I joined the women by the display. They clustered around me and gazed expectantly, as if I were the Wizard himself.
    “We eat, drink, and sleep Dorothy if we can,” the woman who seemed to be the organizer continued. “Is that what this book is about?”
    “Peek inside,” I said. “The authors have put together recipes and little anecdotes, not just about the movie but about the Broadway production and its collaborators, as well. Each shares his or her own story and possibly a recipe. It’s fun.”
    She browsed the pages. “Hey, I didn’t know Art Carney was the scarecrow on Broadway. You know who Art Carney is, don’t you?”
    I had a vague idea. Old actor on the Jackie Gleason television show.
    “Ooh, I love learning something new.” She closed the book. “Do you have a dozen on hand?”
    I gulped. “Only the one.”
    “But you can order more and ship, yes?”
    “Of course.”
    As the ladies purchased other books and gift items, I learned they were from nearby San Jose. They had specifically come to town for the Winsome Witches luncheon. I also learned about a Wizard of Oz collector in the Stanford area. A retired orthodontist, he had immersed himself in all things Oz. He owned nearly two thousand Oz-related books; he had even built a yellow brick road in his collectibles room. Amazing.
    When the ladies departed, Bailey joined me at the register. “Weren’t they enthusiastic?” she said. “Do you remember your favorite scary book?”
    “Why scary?”
    “Weren’t you totally freaked out reading
The Wizard of Oz
? The scene about the monkeys and the