PDF Download Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton
You can locate the link that we provide in website to download Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton By acquiring the budget friendly rate and also obtain finished downloading, you have completed to the first stage to obtain this Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton It will be nothing when having actually bought this book and do nothing. Read it and also reveal it! Invest your couple of time to simply read some sheets of page of this book Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton to read. It is soft file and also very easy to review wherever you are. Appreciate your new behavior.
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton
PDF Download Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton
Locate the key to enhance the lifestyle by reading this Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton This is a kind of publication that you need currently. Besides, it can be your favorite publication to check out after having this book Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton Do you ask why? Well, Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton is a publication that has various particular with others. You might not have to understand who the author is, exactly how famous the work is. As smart word, never judge the words from which talks, yet make the words as your inexpensive to your life.
Obtaining guides Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton now is not sort of difficult way. You can not just going with book store or collection or borrowing from your good friends to read them. This is a really straightforward method to exactly obtain guide by on the internet. This on-line e-book Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton could be among the options to accompany you when having spare time. It will certainly not lose your time. Believe me, guide will certainly show you brand-new thing to check out. Merely invest little time to open this on-line e-book Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton and review them wherever you are now.
Sooner you obtain guide Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton, faster you can appreciate reading guide. It will be your rely on maintain downloading and install guide Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton in given web link. In this method, you can actually decide that is served to obtain your very own book on the internet. Right here, be the first to obtain guide entitled Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton and be the very first to understand how the author indicates the notification as well as understanding for you.
It will certainly believe when you are going to select this publication. This inspiring Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton publication can be read totally in particular time depending on just how often you open and review them. One to keep in mind is that every e-book has their own manufacturing to obtain by each viewers. So, be the great viewers and also be a better individual after reviewing this publication Fruit Of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), By Paige Shelton
Read Paige Shelton's blogs and other content on the Penguin Community.
Becca Robbins sells her farm-made jams and preserves at the local farmers' market to make a living. But when a local lovely decides to tie the knot at the same market, someone else decides to make a killing-and only Becca has the down-home know-how to shut the lid on a canny killer.
- Sales Rank: #469698 in Books
- Brand: Shelton, Paige
- Published on: 2011-03-01
- Released on: 2011-03-01
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.73" h x .77" w x 4.15" l, .30 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 304 pages
From Publishers Weekly
In Shelton's entertaining second Farmers' Market mystery (after 2010's Farm Fresh Murder), twice-divorced jam maker Becca Robins is glad to help prepare for a wedding not her own—that of her pie vendor friend, Linda McMahon, to Navy SEAL Drew Forsythe. The ceremony is to be held at Bailey's, the farmer's market where Becca and Linda work outside Monson, S.C. Becca once again turns sleuth after Drew's much disliked bank owner mother, Madeline, fails to show at the rehearsal dinner and is later found strangled in her bedroom. Suspects include Forsythe family members and unhappy bank clients who've received bogus foreclosure letters. Police officer Sam Brion wholeheartedly supports Becca as she snoops her way toward the less than surprising but still satisfying conclusion. Spunky Becca should appeal to fans of Laura Child and Joanne Fluke. (Mar.)
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
About the Author
Paige Shelton spent lots of years in advertising but now writes novels full time. She lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, with her husband and son. When she’s up early enough, one of her favorite things is to watch the sun rise over the Wasatch Mountains.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One
Visions of strung-together cherry tomatoes danced in my head; corn kernels tossed in celebration and then strewn across a dirt floor. Then, a gigantic pumpkin carved into the shape of Cinderella’s carriage, but with seeds mistakenly left inside. And finally, I’m in my favorite overalls that have been mysteriously Bedazzled.
It was a waking nightmare.
But that was just a state of horror taking over. I couldn’t believe what I had agreed to do. A wedding? What was I thinking? Why had I said yes so quickly?
I’d had plenty of practice, of course. Twice in front of the justice of the peace made me an old pro at commitments of the heart, temporary though they might have been. But this time it was going to be with a pastor and a walk down an aisle; something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, something different—for me at least, and something that was going to require a farmers’ market theme.
The only good news: it wasn’t my wedding. Phew!
Instead, I’d agreed to be my good friend, Linda McMahon’s, twice-divorced maid/matron of honor (we’d simplified the title and decided to call me her “Number One”) when she married Superman look-alike Drew Forsyth. In five short days.
The nuptials were on the fast track because of a surprise, but not the old-fashioned kind. Though I’d only recently learned exactly what Drew’s job was, I’d always guessed it was something mysterious and important. When I’d first met him, he and Linda never quite answered the question “What does Drew do for a living?” But as time went on and we became closer, and Drew seemed to be a more permanent part of Linda’s life, I learned that Super Drew was in the military (said in hushed tones). For a while, that was all I knew, but about a month ago I’d learned that he was part of a “military special operations” group. I still didn’t have the specifics, but I was terribly impressed. It was only within the last twenty-four hours that Linda had confided in me that Drew was a Navy SEAL. My level of impressed shot even higher.
It wasn’t so much that Drew’s job was a secret; it was that what he did when he was performing his job was usually a top top top secret. People who did those sorts of things just didn’t go about sharing the details of their duties, so it was easier to keep everything about it close to the flak jacket, so to speak.
Drew had been called to duty, which for the rest of us meant Drew would be leaving for some time to go places we couldn’t know about, to do things we couldn’t know about. He’d been preparing Linda for his certain departure, but it still was a surprise when the call came.
And when it did, it solidified for Drew that he didn’t want to leave without first making Linda his wife. She agreed.
Yes, it was very romantic and the stuff of movies with heart-wrenching symphony music, but five days wasn’t a lot of time to pull off a wedding.
Their “I do’s” could have been handled easily with a quick trip to the justice of the peace—I knew the address by heart—but Linda wanted a real wedding, with guests and all the trimmings. Considering the short amount of time available to plan and prepare, the ceremony wasn’t expected to be lavish by any means. But as her Number One, I was responsible for helping make her dream day . . . well, dreamy.
Of course, the ceremony would take place at Bailey’s, the farmers’ market where we both worked. And the other vendors would help, so it might not be too terrible. But still, being in charge of someone else’s “happiest day of her life” is a big job; one I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to handle successfully.
I hadn’t even been in my fraternal twin sister’s wedding. Allison and her husband, Tom Reynolds, had, in deference to our hippie parents, gotten married on a South Carolina beach as the sun rose over the ocean horizon. We’d gathered together, but no one had to do anything beforehand—like plan things, decorate, or help pick out dresses and the like.
I was ill-equipped for such duty. When Linda told me she wanted all food, flowers, and other decorations for the wedding to come from Bailey’s, my first thought was Shoot, I don’t even know what she means by “other decorations.”
It had been only one day since I told Linda I’d be honored to stand up with her, and it hadn’t been a lie—I was honored. But when I really thought about what the job entailed, I realized I was in over my head. Cowardly, I wished for an out, something like the appearance of Linda’s long-lost best friend, but it didn’t seem likely to happen. I was committed; and truthfully, I would never ditch my duty, my friend in her time of need. Adding to my desire not to let her down was the fact that she was all that was left of her family. Her parents had died when she was a teenager, and she was an only child. We, the Bailey’s vendors, were her family now, and none of us would let her down.
So, after spending the night tossing and turning, I did what I normally do in times of extreme crisis: I called my sister Allison and begged for help. I asked her to stop by my stall this morning and offer me words of wisdom. She picked the perfect time—I wasn’t busy, but Linda, her stall right next to mine, was helping a customer, so she wouldn’t overhear as I vented my concerns.
“Becca, make a list. For instance, I’ve already decided on an area of the market that will be perfect for the ceremony. Just let me know how many people will be there. Work with Abner on flowers, Stella on a cake, and so on. One thing at a time,” Allison said.
Allison is the manager of Bailey’s. She took the job ten years ago and has turned the market into one of the top markets in South Carolina. I usually tell people that she’s turned it into one of the best on the East Coast, but I have no statistics to back up such a claim.
Bailey’s is one of the bigger markets in South Carolina, located outside the town of Monson. Its long, U-shaped design could be seen a good distance down the state highway it was located on. Until recently, a large green and white painted sign announced its location. But the owners had just put up a lighted sign with programmable features that made us all feel uncomfortably modern. Market people didn’t usually see much use for lighted signs that could display different things at the touch of a keypad, but we’d get used to it.
I made and sold berry jams and preserves, and worked with many other vendors who made and/or sold many other products. Linda dressed like a character from Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and for seven years had sold homemade fruit pies from the stall next to mine. From the moment we met at Bailey’s, we knew we’d be friends.
“Actually, Linda wants me to talk to both Stella and Mamma Maria about cake, and maybe some mini pie ideas, or something,” I said. Mamma Maria was the one exception to Linda’s “Bailey’s Vendors Only for the Wedding” rule. Mamma worked down the road at the Smithfield Farmers’ Market. She baked piled-high cream pies that melted on your tongue and made your eyes roll back in your head out of sheer pleasure. She was built just like her pies—stacked—and she was dating Bailey’s peach vendor, Carl Monroe. We’d all become pretty good friends.
“There you go. Talk to Stella and Mamma. This could be fun. You can ask for samples. You’ll get to taste test.” Allison smiled.
“Good point,” I said as I chewed at my bottom lip.
Allison laughed. “Becca, tell Linda you’re a little freaked because you want to do everything right and you want to make sure you accomplish her vision. Be sure you understand exactly what she wants. Everyone here will take good care of her and Drew. You really don’t need to worry. You’ll have it easier than most . . . what did you call yourself, Number Ones?”
“That’s okay to say to a bride? That I’m a little freaked? Aren’t I supposed to be the nonfreaked one?”
“Well, you know how to handle it so she’ll understand.”
“Do you know who she’s marrying?” I asked, my voice high-pitched.
“Of course. Drew Forsyth.”
“Yeah, well, he’s pretty darn amazing on his own, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, do you know who she’s marrying?”
“Linda told me he’s in the military,” Allison said quietly. “He does secret things, which is pretty impressive.” I’d leave it to Linda to tell Allison Drew’s job title. “But I don’t know more than that.” Allison shook her head, her long, dark ponytail swinging slightly. I would never have either long or dark hair. Allison’s tall, dark looks are from our father and are the yin to the short stature and blonde hair yang I received from our mother.
“Drew is the son of Madeline Forsyth.”
“Okay. Well, the name is familiar, but I can’t pinpoint where I’ve heard it before.”
I was stunned that I knew something my sister didn’t. “Madeline Forsyth is a banker . . .”
That was all I had to say.
“Oh, my goodness,” Allison said. “Is she . . . is she . . . ?”
“Yes, she’s in charge of all horror, if you know what I mean.” Central Savings and Loan, led by Madeline Forsyth (nicknamed For-scythe as a result of her ability to cut someone down just like the wickedly sharp mowing instrument), had been on a foreclosure bender lately. Just in the last week, I’d heard of two farms that she herself had served papers on.
Because one of the farms that Central had recently taken was Simonsen Orchards, a place that I’d become very familiar with the previous fall, I’d paid extra attention to the bank’s activities. Matt Simonsen had been murdered behind a Bailey’s stall. It took some crack police work and some of my own nosiness to figure out who the killer was. I had mostly recovered from the injuries I sustained as I tried to run from the killer, who was now, fortunately, behind bars—forever or a hundred and twenty years, whichever came first.
The day I heard that Simonsen Orchards had been foreclosed upon had been both weird and sad. Those of us who made our livings off our farm-grown or homemade products were always sad when we heard about someone losing their land, but it was extra hard to hear that Simonsen Orchards had gone from one of the top-producing peach orchards in the region to deeply in debt because of the murder.
“Oh, dear. Madeline Forsyth. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection. That’s . . .” Allison muttered.
“Awful, terrible, a cruel twist of fate, what?”
“A challenge,” Allison said sternly. “Look, you’re supposed to be there for Linda and Drew. What Drew’s mother does and who she is don’t matter.”
“I’ve met her, Allison. She’s tall and loud, both literally and figuratively, and will crush me if I don’t help make her son’s wedding just perfect. According to Linda, she’s having a hard enough time accepting the fact that her son is marrying a pie baker who works at a farmers’ market; if I ruin the wedding, she might just foreclose on all of us.”
Allison smiled patiently. “That might be a somewhat dramatic take on it, but I do feel sorry for Linda.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Linda, yoo-hoo!” A voice sounded from behind Allison. She turned sharply, and I peered around her.
“Well, speak of the devil,” I said.
Moving at the speed of a type A personality on caffeine, Madeline Forsyth approached. She was at least seventy years old but didn’t look a day over plastic surgery. She was tall, thin, and immaculately dressed in a beige Chanel suit with gold-rimmed black buttons. Dust on the market floor flew from the falls of her expensive pumps, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was focused on her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
Linda’s attention was pulled away from her customer and to the approaching storm. The customer, a young woman in denim shorts and a flower print shirt, read the situation quickly.
She smiled at Linda and said, “I’ll come back for the pie when I’m done shopping.” And then she scurried away.
Linda put on a patient smile and said, “Madeline, how nice to see you.”
“Uh-huh,” Madeline said as she stopped in front of Linda’s stall. She stood just far enough away so that her suit wouldn’t come in contact with Linda’s display table. “Do you not have time to answer your phone?”
“Uh, well . . .” Linda said as she reached into her pioneer dress pocket. She pulled out her phone and looked at it. “It doesn’t say I’ve missed a call.”
“Well, you have. I’ve tried to reach you at least a dozen times in the last hour.”
“Really? We’d better double-check the number you’ve got for me.”
Madeline waved her hand. “We’ll do that later. For now, I’m here to let you know about dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes. When I spoke to Drew earlier, he said that he’d neglected to tell you about the dinner this evening.”
“I wasn’t aware of a dinner this evening, but maybe he just hasn’t gotten around to telling me yet.”
Madeline tsked. “Drew not giving early notice for a dinner? Surely, I raised him better than that.”
Fleetingly, I wondered what I would do in such a confrontational situation. Considering the fact that I’m twice divorced, I thought I’d probably just call a lawyer.
Linda, however, was more patient and polite than I would have been, so she just smiled, nodded, and remained silent. Madeline was sure to continue speaking.
“Anyway, the dinner is at my house this evening. I’ve invited some of Drew’s cousins—one will be his best man at this hurried wedding thing that we’re having. I want you to meet them before you join the family.”
“That would be lovely. I look forward to it. What can I bring?” Linda kept her cool.
“Nothing, of course. I have a cook who does his own shopping.” I guessed this was her way of saying that she’d never buy groceries from Bailey’s.
“That will be fine,” Linda said.
“It will be early. I have work to do this evening. Be at my house at five o’clock.”
“Of course.”
Madeline did a three-point turn in her pumps and faced me.
“Becca Robins, right? You’re the maid of honor?”
“Yes,” I said, as though someone had punched me in the gut. Why was she speaking to me?
“You’re invited, too,” she said regrettably. “Bring a date.”
“Thanks,” I said. My eyes were wide, and I was unsure what to do with my hands.
Madeline marched her way back down the aisle, toward Bailey’s exit. I watched as my friends and market mates observed the powerful woman leave us all in her wake. Barry Drake, of Barry Good Corn, thumbed his overalls and sniffed; Herb and Don, the Herb Boys, flanked their stall and gave Madeline the stink-eye; Abner Justen leaned on his wildflower display table and looked cranky; Jeanine Baker, the egg lady, crossed her arms and looked scared; Allison, still in front of my stall, looked interested and focused; and, last but not least, my very adorable boyfriend, Ian Cartwright, stepped out of his yard artwork stall and caught my eye. He gave me a semi-amused wink.
He knew he’d just been invited to dinner, too.
There was a lot of spite in the aisles of Bailey’s that afternoon. Though they might not have known until that moment that Linda was going to marry into the Forsythe family, everyone knew exactly who Madeline Forsyth was, and no one liked her one bit.
The thing was, though, someone must have taken their dislike to a whole new level, because the Chanel suit and expensive pumps tornado that blew through Bailey’s was the last time anyone saw Madeline Forsyth alive.
Two
Linda and I talked briefly before she left Bailey’s for the day. I didn’t tell her about my conversation with Allison because I figured she had enough on her plate. She did her best not to show how much Madeline’s whirlwind visit bothered her, but I knew it had. Otherwise, she never would have left the market early on a busy Friday afternoon. She packed up her truck and her remaining pies, and went to get ready for dinner. I promised I’d be there on time.
In between my own customers and per Allison’s suggestion, I made a list. I also talked to other vendors. I’d be taste testing cake samples from Stella and a peach dish and some banana cream mini pies from Mamma Maria the next morning. Abner took his assignment as flower arranger in stride, but I caught it when the corner of his mouth twitched like he just might smile. He was pleased to have been asked even if he didn’t do “pleased.”
The biggest surprise of the day was when Herb and Don, of Herb and Don’s Herbs, stopped by my stall.
They were both life and business partners, and had had a stall at Bailey’s for about three years. Herb was short, bald, and adorable; Don was tall with a head of curly auburn hair, and as close to a male model as I’d ever known. Apparently, when he wasn’t working with herbs, Don was in the weight room that filled their entire basement. He’d been gifted with a chiseled face and swore he hadn’t resorted to plastic surgery to get that perfect nose.
Don was literally pulling Herb by his arm.
“Becca,” Don said, “you just have to use Herb.”
“Use him for what?”
“The music at the wedding ceremony, of course. He plays the violin beautifully. You won’t regret it,” Don said, still holding tight to Herb.
“Really? You do?” I asked. If he really did play, I was more than thrilled. Allison had been right—Linda would be well taken care of.
Herb looked sheepish, his bald head blushing slightly.
“Oh, don’t be modest,” I said. “If you can play, you’ve got the job. Do you know that tune they play when brides walk down the aisle?”
“The Wedding March?” Herb asked, his eyebrows rising to his nonexistent hairline.
“Yes, that’s the one,” I said. I’d never paid attention to the name of the tune, but it did make sense.
“Of course,” he said confidently. Don let go of his arm.
“Terrific. Okay, today’s Friday, the wedding will be Wednesday. We’ll have a rehearsal early Tuesday morning. Bring your violin.”
Herb looked at Don and then back at me. “Don’t you want to hear me play beforehand? To make sure, you know, that I can play?”
“It’s either you or something I download off the Internet and put on my iPod. Will you be better than that?”
“Uh, yes, I think so.”
“Great. The job is yours.”
I wasn’t being lazy. I knew that if Don said Herb could play beautifully, he could play beautifully. First of all, Don wouldn’t lie about such a thing, and second, no one would offer to do something that would risk Linda’s wedding. Again, I noted to myself how right Allison had been. This was probably going to be the easiest wedding to plan in the history of all weddings.
I hadn’t written “music” on my list quite yet, but as Herb and Don walked away, I added the word just so I could feel the satisfaction of putting a check mark by it.
“How’s it going?”
“Hey, you,” I said as I smiled and put down the paper and pencil.
Ian Cartwright, ten years my junior, was my adorable boyfriend, although Allison said he was more exotic than adorable. He was about five-feet-ten, thin but muscled; he had a total of eight tattoos on his body, my favorite one being the sun on the back of his right hand. He wore his long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail most of the time, and his dark eyes still made me swoon, even after dating him for seven months.
Unfortunately, our otherwise perfect relationship had hit a small snag. Ian wanted me to travel with him back to his home in Iowa to meet his family. When he first asked me, my answer had been a firm “Uhhhh,” but the look on my face must have given away my true feelings.
I’d tried to explain to him a number of times that having gone through two divorces made me wary not only of marriage but also of the normal steps one takes on the way to being married, like meeting the family.
I’d tried to explain that though I felt more for him than I’d ever felt for anyone else, our relationship was still new enough that I wasn’t sure I was ready to take such a big step.
He said he understood, but I knew he didn’t, really. We were still together, but I could feel the strain between us. I didn’t want that strain, but I also didn’t want to do something that felt like the wrong thing to do, like meet a family I wasn’t ready to meet. I hadn’t given him a firm answer yet, but said I would soon. I knew he was becoming increasingly impatient.
“I did something,” he said with a genuine smile.
I smiled back. There was no strain at the moment, and that was good.
“What did you do?”
Ian rubbed a finger under his nose. “Well, you might not be pleased.”
I continued to smile, ignoring the small thread of dread building in my chest. Uh-oh, surely he hadn’t invited his family here?
“Okay, tell me,” I said.
“You know that coffee shop we love—Maytabee’s?”
“Sure. Great coffee.”
“And pastries,” Ian added.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, the manager of the one by my apartment is also the owner. She’s from Monson, but she has four other locations in Charleston.”
“She sounds successful,” I said. I had no idea what he was leading up to, but the dread was disappearing.
“Anyway, I took some of your strawberry jam to her a week ago.”
“You did? Why?”
“To see if she might be interested in selling it in her stores.”
My mouth dropped open. “Really? What did she say?”
“She wants you to do a presentation to her other managers. She loved the jam, but she likes to let her managers have a say in the products they carry.”
“Wow, Ian, that was unbelievably . . . helpful of you.”
Ian laughed. “I wondered if you’d have that reaction. You don’t know quite what to make of it, do you? You don’t like people messing with your business, but you realize this might be a good opportunity. Don’t worry, you’ll catch up soon enough.”
I nodded slowly. Then I did catch up, and realized how kind it had been for Ian to talk to the owner of Maytabee’s. I’d been wanting to find ways to expand my business, and this was a perfect start. “Ian, thank you. You’re right.” I leaned over the display table and kissed him quickly, in front of the entire farmers’ market world.
“You’re very welcome, but unfortunately there’s some bad news to go along with my great and fantastic news. She just called, and she’d like you to do the presentation Monday morning, when her other managers will be in town for their monthly meeting. What with the wedding announcement yesterday, I think your next few days, Monday included, have become very full.”
“True.” I put my hands on my hips. I’d already decided I wouldn’t have much time to work at the market over the next week. Because I’d already committed myself to not working full-time, I thought I could probably fit in a quick presentation. “I’ll make it work. Hey, you want to come to the presentation with me?”
“Sure. Let me know what I can do to help you prepare. I’m good with PowerPoint.” Ian smiled. In fact, he was good with anything that had anything to do with computers.
“That’s a deal. I’d appreciate it.” We smiled at each other, and though I knew he didn’t want me to know he was still perturbed about my continued indecision about visiting his family, I saw it in his eyes. “So, how about dinner tonight? You available?”
“I am. Thanks for the invite. I presume we’re going to Madeline Forsyth’s?”
“Yes. How about that show she put on?” I asked.
“She’s . . . interesting.”
“Poor Linda.”
“I agree.”
We made arrangements to meet at Ian’s apartment at about four thirty. I’d promised Linda I wouldn’t be late. We estimated that it would take about fifteen minutes to get to Madeline’s from Ian’s, so four thirty would make us slightly early.
Of course, had we known Madeline’s fate, we probably wouldn’t have been overly concerned about being on time.
Most helpful customer reviews
11 of 12 people found the following review helpful.
Fruit of All Evil
By Amazon Customer
When we last visited Bailey's Market, Becca had just finished helping Officer Sam Brion solve a local murder. And If Becca showed us anything in her debut novel, Farm Fresh Murder, its that she has a knack for solving crimes. The only difference this time around is Officer Brion can actually use her help; whether or not it's intentional.
In Fruit of All Evil by Paige Shelton, Bailey's Market is full of excitement as it prepares for the upcoming marriage of one of its vendors, Linda McMahon, to the charmingly strong, soon-to-be shipped out of the country, Navy SEAL, Drew Forsythe. Becca, chosen as Linda's "number one" girl for the wedding preparation, finds herself in the middle of a murder investigation when the groom-to-be's mother, Madeline Forsythe, a very disliked bank owner, is found dead in her home on the night of the wedding rehearsal dinner.
The investigation is only a couple of hours old when we find Becca sneaking through the police station, crawling in and out of windows, walking on ledges, and making her way to the jails cells, only to find her friend Linda waiting for interrogation. A friendly chit chat leaves Becca searching for more answers. And with the suspect list ranging from family members to upset bank clients that have been receiving fraudulent foreclosure notices, Becca finds herself in one jam after another as she races to find the killer before the wedding has to be permanently postponed.
The second book in the series gives us another great look inside the characters that reside at Bailey's Farmers Market. You'll read about Becca's romance with Ian, yet wonder if there shouldn't be something more between her and Officer Sam Brion. My favorite part of this book is that it took us outside the Farmers Market and into the surrounding areas that make up this wonderful life in the country. There's a Dairy Farm in this book, which means, there are cows! I love cows! And I loved this book because a little calf helps Becca uncover some of the Forsythe family secrets and possibly assists with solving the crime.
I love me those cows! And I love Bailey's Market!
P.S. This book comes complete with recipes...Ian's Lavender Cookies, Mama Maria's Peach Delight, and George's Quiche Jeanine to name just a few. Yummy stuff!
5 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Has potential if Becca grows up!
By CJ-MO
Becca Robins has just five days to help her good friend Linda McMahon plan her wedding to Navy SEAL Drew Forsyth before he has to leave for his latest assignment. Linda wants to hold the ceremony at Bailey's Farmers' Market, the main setting of Fruit of All Evil, the second in the Farmer's Market Mystery series. Becca and Linda are both vendors at the market, and Linda wants all the food, flowers, and decorations for her special day to be obtained from fellow vendors. As maid of honor, Becca's task of planning the wedding is should come a little easier by the fact that her twin sister Allison manages the market. However, Linda's future mother-in-law Madeline Forsyth, a banker who has foreclosed on several area farms, demands perfection. As the wedding draws nearer, it turns out Madeline won't be criticizing any of the arrangements - she is murdered in her bedroom the same day she is holding a pre-wedding dinner for Linda and Drew.
Officer Sam Brion, friends with Becca from a prior case, seems to be focusing on bank customers in his investigation. However, Becca thinks the murderer may be someone closer to home. Anxious to get the murder solved so Linda and Drew can continue with their wedding as planned, Becca starts her own investigation of Madeline's family.
There are many things to enjoy in this book. I like the unique setting of the farmer's market. It's a perfect way to showcase a variety of quirky characters that all care about each like family. Becca is an interesting character. She is very unassuming and down-to-earth. She values nature and her friends and family as opposed to materialistic things, which could be in part because of her upbringing by her "hippie" parents. Becca truly enjoys growing her berries and making the homemade jams and preserves she sells at the market. She is in a serious relationship with Ian Cartwright, a much younger artist. While she is hesitant to commit fully to Ian, she ignores the chemistry between her and Sam. The attraction is obvious to Becca's sister Allison, as well as the reader, so this could be building into an interesting triangle in future books.
It's always nice when the local police recognize and appreciate the intelligence and skills of amateur sleuths. While Sam doesn't want Becca to get hurt, he does sometimes encourage her to help with the investigation. At one point, Sam tells Becca he has no legal authority to question a witness further, but goes on to say that questions from a concerned friend would be another matter. This gives a logical explanation for Becca's detecting.
Unfortunately, Becca takes her involvement to the extreme. While it's common for amateur detectives to wind up in dangerous situations, Becca continuously takes chances for no reason. For example, she takes Madeline's cell phone from the crime scene. She later feels guilty and gives it back to the police, without even looking at it. While this wasn't dangerous, taking the phone makes her look suspicious and there was no gain in having taken it. Later in the book, Becca crawls out of a window at the police station to try to sneak to a back room where one of her friends is being questioned. You know without a doubt she is going to end up locked out on the ledge. Instead of being humorous, Becca's actions just seem silly and pointless. The foolish choices she makes throughout the investigation eventually become so ridiculous, I started to dislike the character which took away from my initial enjoyment of the book.
The distinctive setting and the variety of unusual characters give this series a lot of charm. The closest in terms of the setting would be Sheila Connelly's Orchard mysteries. If the author can tone down some of Becca's impulsiveness and show some growth and maturity of the character, this could be a more enjoyable series worth following in future installments.
This review was originally written for the "Season for Romance" E-Zine. The book was provided to me in exchange for an honest review.
5 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
A Perfect Treat
By Read-a-Lot
I was looking for a great read, and I decided to try Paige Shelton's Farmers' Market Mysteries. I'm so glad I did! Shelton introduces her extraordinarily appealing heroine, Becca Robins, in her first novel, *Farm Fresh Murder.* Becca makes jams from fruit grown on her farm and sells them at a local farmers' market, where the produce stalls are filled with intriguing, mysterious, likeable, and, yes, even hate-able characters. It was such an engaging read I wasn't at all surprised to see that it soared to the New York Times Bestsellers' List after publication.
After reading Farm Fresh Murder, you can go straight on to the second book in the series: *Fruit of All Evil,* without waiting. Readers have a sense of Becca and several of the other characters now, but Shelton still manages to cook up very suspenseful surprise ending. If you're a mystery lover, this well plotted book provides all the best elements...a melting pot of story lines, such as a wedding, a death, and a bank failure; simmering suspense, like (say) when Becca is standing on a window ledge outside the police department; and several sticky suspects, with the bad apple revealed only at the very end. What's most amazing about both of Shelton's books is that each provides a window to Becca's thoughts, goals, and insecurities, and she is so sympathetic and real that I want to be her bff (a shout out to Natalie: sorry, you've been replaced). I can't wait for Farmers' Market Mystery #3.
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton PDF
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton EPub
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton Doc
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton iBooks
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton rtf
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton Mobipocket
Fruit of All Evil (A Farmers' Market Mystery), by Paige Shelton Kindle
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar