Barbara Silkstone [Silkstone - Sun Scream

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With love & laughter!

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A series of peculiar and highly suspicious accidents threaten the life of the Loud Mouth of the South. Can Olive and Lizzy find the predator before their friend becomes the victim at her own Murder Mystery Party? Help the Cold Cream gals solve the mystery of the corpse and the canaps. Mirth and murder in Book 4 of the Cold Cream Murders.

Olive Peroni put out her family therapy shingle six years ago never thinking her top client would be the retired head of a New York crime family. When Olives Nonna dies, leaving her a condo in Florida and a secret recipe for miracle cold cream, she grabs the chance at a new life in Starfish Cove, Florida, making designer creams for ladies who spend far too much time at the beach. Business is brisk and life is good! Olive even makes a wild new best friend and business partner in Lizzy, the real estate agent who handles the transfer of Nonnas condo.

But when the quiet little community on the Gulf of Mexico soon begins to compete with a certain notorious coastal village in Maine, Olive finds herself solving odd-ball murders as often as she soothes wrinkles. Clean and wholesome!

Each book contains a recipe for homemade cosmetics and beautifiers!

J aimies late again. Lizzy jumped off the three-foot wall bordering the front steps of the Toasts new seaside mini mansion. She wobbled in her wedgies as she hit the ground. Its almost four oclock, she grumbled. Were doing her a favor and she doesnt have the courtesy to be on time.

Tempted to remind my friend she held the Late Lady of Starfish Cove record, I bit my tongue instead. On edge, I concentrated on maintaining a calm demeanor, tightly controlling my breathing and expression. Relax and enjoy the breeze.

Cool your jets, Lizzy, Grams said. Im looking forward to this. How often do we get to plan a murder?

Usually theyre just sprung on us, I said.

Grams placed a kerchief on the rear bumper of Chips Jaguar parked just off the driveway under the shade of a large ficus tree. She braced her bottom on the piece of cloth careful not to get dust on her Dali-printed dress. The drooping, melted watches copied from the artists famous work formed a fitting pattern for her thin frame, black stockings, and matching orthopedic shoes. She leaned against the car, elbows propped on the trunkAudrey Hepburn sunglasses covering most of her tiny nonagenarian face.

Lizzy paced the pavement between the driveway and the steps. She paused in front of me. Olive, how can you be so calm when we have so much to do at the shop?

My business partner was right. The next few days would be like walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. We were coming up on the possibility of a celebrity endorsement. Our cream was the best wrinkle-remover this side of a steam iron. Words from a world-famous beauty might skyrocket our business. Every entrepreneurs dream. Maybe. Would mega-success destroy the life Id created in Starfish Cove? But we had to go for it.

International film star Sophia Napoli and her small entourage were arriving the day after tomorrow. Lizzy and I still had a lot to do at Nonnas Cold Cream shop to win her endorsement.

Yet there we sat wasting precious minutes waiting to help our most irritating friend plan some mischief. She loved playing tricks on people especially her easy-going husband.

Jaimie and Chip had decided to stage a murder mystery themed party for their housewarming. The event was this coming Saturday and had become the talk of Starfish Cove, edging out the repainting of curbs on Main Street.

Chip threw himself into scripting a theatrical play designed to involve all their guests and challenge their sleuthing skills. We didnt know the details yetonly that Lizzy, Grams, and I would be assigned roles to play in a mystery that would take place in a 1920s jazz bar setting. The plays murder victimaka Jaimie Toastwas slated to give us copies of the script and character profilesif she ever showed up.

My mouth had turned sand-dry from the tension of wasting time. I chugged tepid water from my thermal bottle. Florida in Junehot but not as wickedly humid as it would become in a few weeks. I blotted a tissue over my cheek coming away with a streak of makeup.

The white stone and glass structure of their three-story house reflected the suns rays, intensifying the heat. The garage was at ground level. The second and third levels held the living quarters. Decorative shrubbery lined the sides of the angular staircase leading from the driveway up to the front door.

I moved onto the lawn trying to suck in more of the elusive breeze. Well give Jaimie five more minutes, I made a show of checking my watch. Chip must be home. We could wait in the air conditioning.

She was pretty specific about not including him. Lizzy shook her head. She wants whatever trick shes brewing to throw him off balance.

Nothing like double-crossing the playwright in his own play. I turned at the growl of a sports car engine and the last bars of We Are the Champions blaring from the speakers.

Jaimies red BMW convertibletop downturned into the driveway. She gave us a wave and sped past. She screamed as she crashed through the garage door.

M y scream was silent. No sound came out of my wide-open mouth. I ran to the garage. The topmost panel of the door stubbornly clung to the rails. The other panels were blown apart likewell, like they were hit by a car.

Lizzie, Grams and I rushed in. The solid block wall at the back of the garage held up against the onslaught. Jaimies car sat steaming with the hood buckled into a tent shape. The engine silent and the airbag deployed. The Beemer was a foot shorter than when it passed me.

She narrowly missed Chips rarely driven vintage T-Bird, his pride and joy next to his madcap wife.

Jaimie was pinned between the airbag and chunks of the garage door teetering on the back edge of the seat. She appeared dazed but un-bloodied.

Coughing from the airbag dust, Jaimie beat the remains of the sack into submission while managing to utter an occasional Poshookly! She unsuccessfully tried to open the door, gave up, and worked her feet up onto the seat. With an assist from Lizzy and me and a move that would make a contortionist proud, she twisted herself up and over the jammed door and slid down until her strappy sandals touched the garage floor.

She fought with her clingy bias-cut skirt strangling her thighs as she steadied herself. When she finally looked up her green eyes were glazed.

How many screwdrivers did you guzzle? Grams said, making bug-eyes at her.

I havent been drinkingnot since the mimosas at brunch. Honest to Pete. Im telling you the truth. The flippin brakes failed. They went to the floorboard. And my Lucky Elf garage door opener didnt work.

She waved the offending device in the air as if it had a personal grudge against her. I took it from her before she slammed it on the concrete. On the backside of it, a creepy leprechaun sticker leered at me.