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

wicked witch. Ewww.” She shimmied with mock fright.
    “Now that you mention it.” I vividly remembered shivering as my grandmother read the part about Dorothy being swept into the cyclone. “The second in the series wasn’t much tamer. If I recall, a little boy named Tip escapes from a witch with the help of Jack Pumpkinhead.”
    “Perfect for Halloween.”
    “However, nothing scared me more than
Dracula
.”
    Bailey’s mouth dropped open. “You read
Dracula
?”
    “And
Frankenstein
. Do you know the idea for
Frankenstein
came to Mary Shelley in a dream? She and some buddies were competing about who could come up with the best horror story.”
    Bailey said, “Did you read
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
?”
    “Yes. I loved the way Stevenson laid out the secrets, morsel by morsel. Brilliant.”
    On and on the two of us went, sharing book titles we had read over the years. By the time we reached the popular Goosebumps series by R. L. Stine, Katie appeared carrying a huge tray of popcorn balls.
    “
Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb
,” Bailey cried.
    “
Monster Blood
,” I responded. We had come up with about fifty titles so far. Stine was so prolific.
    “Treats,” Katie said.
    Bailey frowned. “That’s not a Goosebumps title.”
    “No.” Katie wiggled the tray. “It’s snack time. I’m putting them in the hall. You two get first dibs.”
    “They’re so teensy,” I said. Most popcorn balls I had sampled were the size of tennis balls. These were little golf ball–sized tidbits. I nibbled on one. “Yum. Butter and caramel and something else.”
    “Marshmallows,” Katie said. “It makes them taste like corny Rice Krispies treats, don’t you think? Hoo-boy, that’s not what I meant. Not corny. Corn-filled . . . whatever.” She ambled into the breezeway between the shop and the café and set the tray on the table where we offered goodies for our customers. Half a minute later, she returned. “By the way, where is your aunt? I wanted to review the café menus for the week. I’ve conjured up all sorts of fun items using Halloween recipes.”
    I glanced at the clock above the checkout counter. Two P.M. Where was my aunt? She had gone directly from Pearl’s house to the precinct. Surely the police were done questioning her by now. I was dying—bad choice of words—to find out whether Trisha or Emma had killed Pearl. I kept imagining the crime scene in my mind in little snippets, like a storyboard for one of my ad campaigns: the windblown patio, the scattered leaves, the empty martini glass, Pearl’s hat abandoned on the chaise lounge, Pearl’s body outstretched across the fire pit. Someone mentioned that she looked like she was reaching for something. What could it have been?
    Katie said, “Do you think the Winsome Witches will cancel the luncheon?”
    I shook my head. “Cinnamon said they didn’t have to.”
    As much as I was saddened by Pearl’s death, I truly hoped that life in Crystal Cove would get back to normal soon. Our economy thrived on having groups like the Winsome Witches throwing gala parties. I was looking forward to the events we had planned at the shop. In addition to the magician and herbalist, we had considered having a special fortune-telling session—communing with imaginary ghosts would be involved—which made me think again about my aunt. Where was she? Should I be worried? I hoped Cinnamon hadn’t figured out some way to implicate Aunt Vera in the crime and locked her behind bars. I rang my aunt but reached her voice mail. I left a message for her to call me back.
    For the next few hours, I focused on the upcoming special events day. We were planning on having a drawing. Everyone who bought a book would get a chance to win a Cookbook Nook gift basket. I’d had so much fun assembling the basket, which was filled with Halloween goodies like a goblin’s hand, a
Witch Parking
sign, rubber snakes, a glow stick for trick-or-treating, a black cat mug, and of