The Fog Ladies


The Fog Ladies: In the Soup (A San Francisco Cozy Murder Mystery)
by Susan McCormick

About The Fog Ladies: In the Soup

The Fog Ladies: In the Soup (A San Francisco Cozy Murder Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Setting — San Francisco
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Wild Rose Press (October 4, 2021)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 328 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1509237984
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1509237982
Digital Print Length ‏ : ‎ 230 pages
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B09C91H76Z

The Fog Ladies are back, in the third installment of this endearing cozy murder mystery series.

“There was a man in the soup.” When the Fog Ladies volunteer at a San Francisco soup kitchen, these spunky elderly friends plus one overworked young doctor-in-training envision washing and chopping and serving. Not murder. Now the soup kitchen is doomed, and the mysteries have just begun. Was the death rooted in a long-ago grudge? Can they save the soup kitchen? Will they find the killer? Could the Fog Ladies, too, end up “in the soup”?


Enid Carmichael couldn’t think of anything but roast chicken with that smell everywhere. A cheese and cracker platter was fine, but a cheese and cracker platter was not roast chicken. Frances probably had carrots and potatoes in there, too, and maybe she buttered the skin and added herbs. Ooh la la. Were the other ladies salivating like she was?

     It didn’t help that Sarah had mixed Enid’s one hundred percent caffeinated coffee beans with lame, low-energy, noncaffeinated beans. Enid’s brain was shot.

     But this was murder and murder was easier to think about than, say, calculating how many laxative tablets to put in Boris’s meatball. Yes, murder was much easier.

     Frances had it all wrong, anyway. It was no good going through methodically and logically trying to piece together who the killer was. That wasn’t what the killer did. The killer saw the man with his chair shoved up to the pot, remembered that they hated him, and tipped him in. Case closed. What they needed to concentrate on was someone impulsive.

     “Who’s the most spontaneous?” she asked. “That’s our killer. Or, better, who plans everything out? They are definitely not our killer.” She bit into a double cheese cracker with satisfaction. Enid could think like a killer. Frances could only think like Frances.

     “When you put it that way, I would not say Geraldine. She’s as organized as they come,” Olivia Honeycut said.

     “Similarly, Belinda put together that whole funeral even while she was grieving,” Harriet Flynn said.

     “Remember those oysters?” Enid was already salivating. She didn’t need oysters on top of chicken to remind her how hungry she was. Didn’t Frances have anything besides cheese and crackers? And corn fritters?

     “I hate oysters,” Olivia Honeycut said.    

     “Plus, I imagine it takes some organization to become the national face for science museums,” Alma Gordon said.

     “How can you not like oysters?” Enid said.

     “Ladies, ladies.” Frances Noonan sat in the wingback chair like she owned it. Enid wanted to sit in that chair. When Frances checked on the chicken, Enid would snag it. Shouldn’t Frances be checking the chicken now? She just kept talking. “This is an interesting way of looking for the killer, someone who acted on impulse. I agree, not Geraldine or Belinda. That leaves Cedric.”

     Of course it left Cedric. Enid had been telling them all along it was Cedric.

     “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. He scares me,” Mrs. Gordon said.

     “I’ll talk to him,” Enid said. “I’ll get it out of him. No more pussyfooting around.”

     Frances Noonan made a sound like when she burned her hand on the teapot. “Oh, no, Enid. Let me. I’ve built a rapport with him. I think he trusts me. I’ll talk to him.”

     Hmph. Enid saw right through this. Frances didn’t want her there. Well, Enid was not about to miss out on confronting the killer. “Get a confession,” she said. “Otherwise, I will.”

     Sarah was suddenly up off her bench and standing next to Frances. If Frances stood now, Sarah would get the wingback chair. Darn!

     “I’m not feeling well, I’m afraid,” Sarah said. The girl didn’t look right, that was for sure. Her face was mottled, and she hadn’t said a word all night. “I’m sorry to abandon you all, and I’m sorry to miss the delicious chicken dinner.”

     “I’ll bring some down to you, dear. You take care of yourself.” Frances didn’t stand. She could go check the chicken now, get the girl a piece, and then sit on the couch herself. Surely the chicken was done by now.

     Sarah slipped out and Frances said, “Ladies, why don’t you all stay to dinner? It’s a large bird, and I have potatoes and carrots and a nice loaf of fresh bread.”

     “We can pretend we’re at Geraldine’s,” said Mrs. Gordon.

     “So long as you don’t push us into a soup pot,” said Mrs. Honeycut.

     “Are you sure there’s enough for everyone?” said Mrs. Carmichael. Did all these people have to stay to dinner? “I get first dibs on drumsticks.”

About Susan McCormick 

Susan McCormick is a writer and doctor who lives in Seattle. She graduated from Smith College and George Washington University School of Medicine, with additional medical training in Washington, D.C. and San Francisco, where she lived in an elegant apartment building much like the one in the book. Susan served as a doctor in the U.S. Army for nine years before moving to the Pacific Northwest and civilian practice as a gastroenterologist. In addition to the Fog Ladies series, she also wrote Granny Can’t Remember Me, a lighthearted picture book about Alzheimer’s disease and dementia, and The Antidote, a timely middle grade medical fantasy released May 2021. She lives in Seattle with her husband and two sons. She loves giant dogs and has loved an English Mastiff, Earl, and two Newfoundlands, Edward and Albert.

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  1. Thank you for hosting The Fog Ladies. These spunky senior sleuths do like to eat!


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