PRAISE FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING
SCUMBLE RIVER SERIES
Murder of a Stacked Librarian
“A fun adventure in a small town with lovable characters and an intriguing plot.”
—Romantic Times
“A well-plotted intriguing mystery. . . . Each book in the series is like a little gem.”
—MyShelf.com
Murder of the Cat’s Meow
“Swanson serves up another romance-sweetened tale of murder in the endearingly zany town of Scumble River.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Well-crafted. . . . From normal to nutty, the folks of Scumble River will tickle the fancy of cozy fans.”
—Publishers Weekly
Murder of a Creped Suzette
“Another great book by this master of the small-town mystery.”
—CrimeSpree Magazine
“A Swanson novel is always going to have tongue-in-cheek humor, complex motives, and unique murders. The latest cleverly crafted tale is another entertaining mystery.”
—Romantic Times
Murder of a Bookstore Babe
“In the latest installment in her cozy Scumble River series, Swanson serves up another irresistible slice of romance-spiced mystery.”
—Chicago Tribune
“As always, Skye Denison and Scumble River provide a reliable, enjoyable mystery. Reading about Scumble River is as comfortable as being in your own hometown. Skye’s quirky assortment of relatives never fails to disappoint.”
—The Mystery Reader
Murder of a Wedding Belle
“Carefully crafted . . . a charming heroine who is equally skilled at juggling detection and romance.”
—Chicago Tribune
Murder of a Royal Pain
“The series remains fresh and dramatic; a great combination, which translates to an enjoyable and intriguing reading experience.”
—Once Upon a Romance
Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry
“[A] cleverly crafted plot . . . with a generous dash of romance.”
—Chicago Tribune
Murder of a Botoxed Blonde
“Endearing . . . quirky . . . a delight.”
—Chicago Tribune
Murder of a Real Bad Boy
“Another knee-slapping adventure in Scumble River.”
—The Amplifier (KY)
Murder of a Smart Cookie
“Smartly spins on a solid plot and likable characters.”
—South Florida Sun-Sentinel
Murder of a Pink Elephant
“The must-read book of the summer.”
—Butler County Post (KY)
Murder of a Barbie and Ken
“Another sidesplitting visit to Scumble River . . . with some of the quirkiest and most eccentric characters we ever have met.”
—Butler County Post (KY)
Murder of a Snake in the Grass
“An endearing and realistic character . . . a fast-paced, enjoyable read.”
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty
“Another delightful and intriguing escapade.”
—Mystery News
Murder of a Sweet Old Lady
“More fun than the Whirl-A-Gig at the County Fair and tastier than a corn dog.”
—The Charlotte Austin Review
Murder of a Small-Town Honey
“Bounces along with gently wry humor and jaunty twists and turns. The quintessential amateur sleuth: bright, curious, and more than a little nervy.”
—Agatha Award–winning author Earlene Fowler
PRAISE FOR THE
DEVEREAUX’S DIME STORE MYSTERY SERIES
“Veteran author Swanson debuts a spunky new heroine with a Missouri stubborn streak. . . . Readers will like this one for its slightly zany multigenerational take on small-town mores.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“Swanson puts just the right amount of sexy sizzle in her latest engaging mystery.”
—Chicago Tribune
“A new entertaining mystery series that her fans will appreciate. . . . With a touch of romance in the air, readers will enjoy this delightful cozy.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“Swanson has a gift for portraying small-town life, making it interesting, and finding both the ridiculous and the satisfying parts of living in one. I wish Dev a long and happy shelf life.”
—AnnArbor.com
Also by Denise Swanson
SCUMBLE RIVER MYSTERIES
Murder of a Stacked Librarian
Murder of the Cat’s Meow
Novella: “Dead Blondes Tell No Tales”
Murder of a Creped Suzette
Murder of a Bookstore Babe
Murder of a Wedding Belle
Murder of a Royal Pain
Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry
Murder of a Botoxed Blonde
Murder of a Real Bad Boy
Murder of a Smart Cookie
Murder of a Pink Elephant
Murder of a Barbie and Ken
Murder of a Snake in the Grass
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty
Murder of a Sweet Old Lady
Murder of a Small-Town Honey
DEVEREAUX’S DIME STORE MYSTERIES
Little Shop of Homicide
Nickeled-and-Dimed to Death
Dead Between the Lines
OBSIDIAN
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014
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penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © Denise Swanson Stybr, 2014
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
ISBN 978-1-101-59458-2
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Praise
Also by Denise Swanson
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
CHAPTER 1: Charting the Course
CHAPTER 2: Anchors Aweigh
CHAPTER 3: Setting Sail
CHAPTER 4: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
CHAPTER 5: Dead in the Water
CHAPTER 6: Don’t Rock the Boat
CHAPTER 7: Cut of His Jib
CHAPTER 8: Scuttlebutt
CHAPTER 9: Know the Ropes
&nb
sp; CHAPTER 10: Give a Wide Berth
CHAPTER 11: Hard to Port
CHAPTER 12: Sail Away
CHAPTER 13: Buoyed Up
CHAPTER 14: Port of Call
CHAPTER 15: Caribbean Blues
CHAPTER 16: Starry Night
CHAPTER 17: Three Sheets to the Wind
CHAPTER 18: Keelhauled
CHAPTER 19: Man Overboard
CHAPTER 20: From Stem to Stern
CHAPTER 21: High Seas
CHAPTER 22: Gangway
CHAPTER 23: Dead Reckoning
CHAPTER 24: Rough Waters
EPILOGUE: Debarkation
Excerpt from Dying for a Cupcake
For my awesome street team, Swanson’s Sleuths. You are all the best.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my good friend Valerie McCaffrey, who told me just how passionate knitters are about their hobby. And to Diane Little for sharing her experiences as a member of a craft group.
Author’s Note
In July of 2000, when the first book in my Scumble River series, Murder of a Small-Town Honey, was published, it was written in “real time.” It was the year 2000 in Skye’s life as well as mine, but after several books in a series, time becomes a problem. It takes me from seven months to a year to write a book, and then it is usually another year from the time I turn that book in to my editor until the reader sees it on a bookstore shelf. This can make the time line confusing. Different authors handle this matter in different ways. After a great deal of deliberation, I decided that Skye and her friends and family would age more slowly than those of us who don’t live in Scumble River. So to catch everyone up, the following is when the books take place:
Murder of a Small-Town Honey—August 2000
Murder of a Sweet Old Lady—March 2001
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty—April 2002
Murder of a Snake in the Grass—August 2002
Murder of a Barbie and Ken—November 2002
Murder of a Pink Elephant—February 2003
Murder of a Smart Cookie—June 2003
Murder of a Real Bad Boy—September 2003
Murder of a Botoxed Blonde—November 2003
Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry—April 2004
Murder of a Royal Pain—October 2004
Murder of a Wedding Belle—June 2005
Murder of a Bookstore Babe—September 2005
Murder of a Creped Suzette—October 2005
Murder of the Cat’s Meow—March 2006
Murder of a Stacked Librarian—December 2006
Murder of a Needled Knitter—January 2007
And this is when the Scumble River short story and novella take place:
“Not a Monster of a Chance” from And the Dying Is Easy—June 2001
“Dead Blondes Tell No Tales” from Drop-Dead Blonde—March 2003
Scumble River is not a real town. The characters and events portrayed in these pages are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to living persons is pure coincidence.
CHAPTER 1
Charting the Course
“Miss?”
“Hmm?” Skye Denison Boyd mumbled, then turned on her side and drifted back to sleep as she murmured, “Just a couple more minutes.”
“Miss, are you okay?” A melodic voice with an island lilt intruded on Skye’s nap again. “You were shoutin’ and thrashin’ around something fierce.”
“I was?” Skye slowly raised her head from the lounge chair and squinted. The bright sunshine was blinding, making it impossible to see the person speaking to her.
Skye and her brand-new husband, Wally Boyd, had been among the first to arrive that afternoon on Countess Cays, the private Bahamian resort owned by Countess Cruise Lines. Wally had gone in search of drinks, leaving Skye to work on her tan. She must have dozed off and been having a nightmare. Considering that this was the second day of her honeymoon, what in the world could she have been dreaming about that would make her scream?
Before Skye could contemplate this perplexing issue further, the person standing over her moved closer, blocking out the sun and allowing Skye finally to observe her would-be rescuer. The short, plump young woman was one of the local workers who had greeted the Diamond Countess passengers as they had disembarked. She was carrying an enormous basket of used towels, which she rested against an ample hip while swaying rhythmically to the music coming from a nearby steel band.
Skye swept a few strands of hair out of her eyes and said, “I’m fine. It must have been a bad dream. I got married on Saturday and I haven’t gotten much sleep the past couple of nights because . . .” She heard herself babbling and trailed off. Really? Had she been just about to share her sex life with a stranger? She needed to get a grip. “Anyway, thanks for your concern.”
The woman’s ebony cheeks creased into a smile, and she said, “No need to be explaining, miss.” She jerked her head toward a spot a few feet behind Skye. “If that’s your man heading this way, I wouldn’t be wasting my time in bed snoozing either.” The woman grinned and strolled away.
Skye twisted her head and examined Wally as he walked toward her holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a frozen margarita in the other. Her pulse fluttered. He really was incredibly handsome. Well-fitting navy swim trunks rested low on his hips, showing off washboard abs, a sculpted chest, and muscular legs. His olive complexion was already beginning to turn a glowing bronze, and even from this distance, Skye could see the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes as he saw her watching him.
She waved, and he increased his pace. It was hard to believe that Wally was actually her husband. She’d been in love with him since the first time she saw him. He’d moved to her hometown to work as a rookie cop in the Scumble River Police Department when she was a teenager, but the difference in their ages had kept them apart. Then for nearly a decade and a half various life circumstances had intervened. Finally, a few years ago, the planets had lined up and they’d begun dating. At the time, Skye hadn’t allowed herself to hope that she’d ever be his wife. But now, at long last, they were married.
She sighed in contentment, then tensed as she remembered her nightmare. It had featured her mother, May. Not that Skye didn’t love her mom, she did, but when she and Wally had first boarded the Diamond Countess, she had thought she’d caught a glimpse of May on the stairway.
Wally hadn’t noticed the woman, and he’d assured Skye that the person she’d spotted had probably only looked like her mother. No doubt, he’d explained, the excitement of their marriage and the stress of the murder investigation they’d wrapped up only minutes before leaving on their honeymoon had sent Skye’s imagination into overdrive.
In all likelihood, Wally was right. But during her bachelorette party, Skye had overheard her mother saying she and Skye’s dad were going on a cruise. May’s knitting group was joining knitters from all over for a trip led by a famous knitting guru. That alone made Skye wary.
Still, what were the odds it was this particular cruise? Hundreds of cruise ships plied the oceans, and Skye had no idea when her parents were going. She’d been too busy with her rehearsal dinner and the wedding the next day to question her mother about her folks’ vacation plans. Then there was the fact that May’s first grandchild was due any day. Surely, she wouldn’t dare miss the blessed event. She’d been obsessing about having grandbabies since her own children hit puberty.
But the most compelling reason for thinking that Skye’s imagination was running wild was that there hadn’t been any sign of May on Sunday during the lifeboat drill or at the sail-away party as the ship had glided out of Fort Lauderdale or at dinner later that evening. Or anywhere else that night or today.
Of course, this morning Wally and Skye hadn’t left their suite until they’d boarded the tender to the island, and the previous evening they hadn’t stayed v
ery long in the dining room since a rowdy bunch seated at several tables in the rear of the restaurant had been noisily celebrating New Year’s Eve a few hours early.
Instead of the long romantic meal Skye and Wally had envisioned, they’d eaten the appetizer and main course quickly, then taken the dessert back to their cabin to enjoy in solitude. Which had turned out for the best, since they’d found an even tastier way to consume the whipped cream and chocolate sauce than on the profiteroles for which the toppings were intended.
Their waiter had said the boisterous crowd was part of a special interest group that would be attending programs, going on excursions, and taking part in private mixers and parties. The participants looked like they were having a blast, and Skye was happy for them, but she was also thankful that the ship had what they called a “your choice” dining plan instead of reserved seating, so she and Wally could select from different restaurants and times to eat and avoid the exuberant bunch.
When Skye heard a burst of raucous laughter, she glanced behind her, thinking it might be that group, and was relieved to see that the braying laugh had come from a guy who had stopped Wally. From the man’s gestures, he seemed to be asking for directions.
The resort was located on a long, narrow peninsula that offered cruise passengers a half mile of white-sand beach where they could relax or indulge in water sports. Along with the unspoiled shoreline, there was also an observation tower, an outdoor bar and restaurant, and a native craft market for the ship’s guests to enjoy. The entire complex was connected by planked walkways, and at the crossings, arrows on wooden posts pointed to the various attractions. Still, Skye could see how easy it would be to get lost. Especially if the poor guy talking to Wally had as bad a sense of direction as she did.
Relaxing back against her chaise, Skye scanned the people who had spread out towels near the water. She told herself that she wasn’t looking for her mother because Wally must be right; she hadn’t seen her mom aboard the Diamond Countess. Then again, since embarking, Skye and Wally hadn’t spent much time outside their suite, and with over three thousand passengers aboard, the chance of seeing any one particular person was slight. May could still be on their ship.