Dead Pan by Gayle Trent

By Gayle Trent

A "delightful new series." -- Kaye's Penguin Posts

Cake decorator Daphne Martin once more reveals herself and her tarts on the heart of a homicide secret. part the city will get ill following a cake occasion, yet for terrible Fred Duncan, a bout with strength meals poisoning speedy turns deadly. Now it is as much as Daphne to variety throughout the most probably suspects and work out who frosted Fred.

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I’d met Cara a few months ago at the Oklahoma Sugar Art Show. As a cake decorator, I always pack my bags and attend. It’s the Big Kahuna of national cake shows. Kerry Vincent runs it, and she’s a star on the Food Network. On my kitchen wall I have a framed picture of me posing with her in front of a cake display. Anyhow, at the show Cara and I discovered we were from the same area of the country, and so we had lunch together. Cara talked in depth about her career. She flitted from story to story and subject to subject like a honeybee in a field of wildflowers.

I did. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. She’s bringing her Aunt Connie—Fred’s mother—to breakfast here tomorrow morning. ” “Are you kidding? ” Mental note: invite Ben for more home-cooked meals. ” “I figured as much,” he said. ” “I’d love to snoop around Fred’s room. ” “I guess we’ll find that out soon enough. ” After talking with Ben, I decided to go to the supermarket to drop off the birthday cakes and to get some ingredients for dishes I’d be making tomorrow morning. Prior to my trip to the Save-A-Buck, I went by the Brea Ridge Rental Center and got the game system and game Violet wanted me to check out.

He’s a reporter and editor for the Brea Ridge Chronicle, a freelance writer and a total HAG (Hot Available Guy). Ben has light brown hair that has a habit of falling over his pale blue eyes, a lanky build, and a lopsided smile. We’ve known each other since we were kids and have been dating since I moved back here from Tennessee.  . which is fine by me because I’m not looking for any sort of serious attachment right now either. Really. I’m not. “It’s not like you to leave your door unlocked and invite visitors in sight unseen,” Ben said.

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