Death Gone A-Rye
Death Gone A-Rye (A Bread Shop Mystery)
by Winnie Archer
About Death Gone A-Rye
Death Gone A-Rye (A Bread Shop Mystery)
6th in Series
Publisher: Kensington (April 27, 2021)
Mass Market Paperback: 272 pages
Digital ASIN : B08F2XT38C
In the Northern California seaside town of Santa Sofia, a killer is trying to get a rise out of baker’s apprentice Ivy Culpepper . . .
Vincent van Dough focaccia is being touted on Instagram as the best thing since sliced bread. By strategically placing chives, olives, and yellow peppers to look like poppies and sunflowers, bakers create a mouthwatering masterpiece in the style of the great postimpressionist painter. At Yeast of Eden, where bread making has always been an art, they’re baking their own version for the school district’s Spring Fling.
But one person won’t be tasting the Mexican bakery’s latest specialty. Ambitious school board president Nessa Renchrik has been murdered. Like the rest of this close-knit community, Ivy is shocked. But she’s just as surprised to discover her beau—restaurateur Miguel Baptista—had his own fling with Nessa back in the day and now the police have this half-baked notion he might have killed her. It’s up to Ivy, her boss Olaya Solis, and eighty-six-years-young Penelope Branford to separate the wheat from the chaff to determine who the real culprit is . . .
The reception after Emmaline and Billy’s wedding had been perfect, if you didn’t count the pall of a murder hanging over the sheriff. Em had done a good job of staying in the moment, though, and she’d only excused herself a handful of times to check in with Captain York.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I showered, dressed in lightweight PJs, and climbed into bed. Next to me Agatha, my brindle pug, snored and gurgled. She sounded as if she had a head cold, but it was just her smoosh-faced pug-ness coming through loud and clear. I reclined on my bed, laptop open, knees propped up at an angle, my back supported by three pillows. Agatha lay stretched out beside me, her head at my foot, her backside at my hip. I moved my computer enough to lean forward
and nudge her head. She let out a complaining sigh but readjusted herself, giving one big snore before settling down again, quietly this time.
“You are too much,” I said, laying my palm on the side of her belly. Agatha had been a rescue. Now she was my bosom buddy. “And I love you.”
This time Agatha gave a deep contented sigh. She loved me, too.
I went back to my Internet search. Emmaline didn’t entirely trust Captain York yet, so I told her I’d be keeping my eyes and ears open while she was gone. Of course me keeping my eyes and ears open was not a passive thing. It meant that I’d be actively searching and listening. I’d be doing my best at getting to the truth of the matter. Not only was I helping Em; I was also satisfying my own curiosity, given that I actually knew a school board member. Calling Candace Coffey was first on my list of things to do in the morning.
I typed Nessa Renchrik’s name into the search bar on my computer. A series of photos came up first, followed by links to her Facebook page, several interviews she’d done with the Santa Sofia Daily, the local newspaper, her LinkedIn profile, and her Twitter handle, which was @RenchrikinSS. She was attractive. Blond shoulder-length hair that looked a little wispy in a few of the shots.
It was pulled up into a formal style in another and she looked elegant. She had fine facial features with a narrow nose, lips on the thin side, and wide-set hazel eyes. I read about her background, discovering that she was forty-two years old, was the mother of two, and had been married for eighteen years. She’d been school board president for the last year. She was in the middle of her second term.
It’s amazing what you can glean from Google. All that was missing was her shoe size and whether she preferred her husband in boxers or briefs.
About Winnie Archer
The indefatigable Winnie Archer is a middle school teacher by day and a writer by night. Born in a beach town in California, she now lives in Colorado. She fantasizes about spending summers writing in quaint, cozy locales, has a love/hate relationship with both yoga and chocolate, adores pumpkin spice lattes, is devoted to her five kids and husband, and can’t believe she’s lucky enough to be living the life of her dreams. Visit her online at WinnieArcher.com.
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