A Berry Suspicious Death

  The cranberry bogs at Sassamanash Farms have never looked more festive than when Monica’s half-brother celebrates his wedding there. It’s a genuinely joyous occasion, and even greeting a strange assortment of guests and witnessing a heated argument can’t spoil Monica’s mood. But that all changes when one of the guests is found murdered at the reception—and then one of Monica’s employees is accused of doing the deed to get his hands on the dead woman’s money.

  It doesn’t take long for Monica to discover that the victim had amassed her fortune by marrying a very wealthy—and very ill—older man. What’s more, the old man’s daughters despised the scheming, gold-digging woman, and thought the inheritance money should have been theirs. That seems like motive enough for murder, but Monica suspects there’s more to this case than simple greed. With her employee in hot water and time running out, Monica will have to act fast to catch the killer, before a case that started with a family wedding ends with her own funeral . . .

  Title Page

  

  Copyright

  A Berry Suspicious Death

  Peg Cochran

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  Copyright © 2024 by Peg Cochran

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  ISBN: 978-1-960511-79-9

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  Contents

  A Berry Suspicious Death

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Recipe

  Books by Peg Cochran

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.” The minister smiled at the couple. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Jeff Albertson turned to Lauren and embraced her. He smiled, put his hand on her chin and tilted her head as his mouth came down on hers. The audience burst into applause. Several of the women, including Gina, Jeff’s mother, pulled tissues from their purses. Monica Albertson also wiped a tear from her eye. Her half-brother was married. She still thought of him as her baby brother, and she’d always felt protective of him. That wasn’t going to change because he’d acquired a wife, but now he would have Lauren looking after him as well.

  The day was sparkling with clouds like puffs of cotton candy floating lazily in the sky. Jeff had wanted to be married at Sassamanash Farm. He had always said it was where his heart was and fortunately, Lauren had agreed. He had returned from a tour in Afghanistan bitter and with an injured arm. The cranberry farm had helped to put him back together again.

  Today, two tents were set up alongside one of the cranberry bogs. It was September and the harvest was underway. The bog was as decked out as any of the wedding guests with red, pink and white cranberries bobbing on top of the water waiting to be harvested. They created a splash of color against the pale blue sky and the white tents flapping in the soft breeze.

  Jeff and Lauren walked arm in arm down the aisle, the serious expressions that had befitted the solemnity of the ceremony now replaced with huge, ear-to-ear smiles. Lauren was wearing a simple lace and chiffon gown with lace sleeves and a bateau neckline. It swirled around her legs as she walked and her floor-length tulle veil billowed out behind her.

  While Monica greeted guests in the reception line, several men in jeans and shirts with Dare to Dream Event Rentals printed on them were already hard at work removing the chairs from the smaller tent and installing a wooden floor for dancing after the meal had been served.

  Jeff and Lauren were greeting an older woman in a pale blue dress when Monica’s stepmother Gina approached her and grabbed her arm. Despite having known Gina for years, her outfit still surprised Monica and she had to blink twice at it—an emerald green metallic jumpsuit with a low V-neckline and palazzo pants. It made Monica feel almost dowdy in her plum-colored wrap dress, which had seemed so elegant when she’d found it on sale at Danielle’s Boutique in town.

  Gina’s eye makeup was slightly smeared as if she’d been crying and she held a crumpled tissue in her right hand.

  “I see the ceremony made you tearful, too,” Monica said, brandishing her own handkerchief.

  Gina sniffed and pressed the tissue to her nose. “It was so beautiful but I can’t believe my baby boy is married. It makes me feel so old.”

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t look a day over . . .” Monica hesitated. How old was Gina anyway? She finally settled on thirty-five and that seemed to make Gina happy. She let out her breath in relief.

  A slight man with a shaved head, one gold stud earring, a set of brightly colored beads around his neck and a jacket with a Nehru collar hovered nearby. Gina put her hand on his arm and pulled him over.

  “I want you to meet Kiran,” she said. She turned her head and smiled at him. “He’s responsible for this.” She made a sweeping motion encompassing her body.

  Monica tried not to stare. What on earth was Gina talking about? And who was Kiran? Was that his real name? Did he have a last name?

  Gina kept her hand on Kiran’s arm. “He owns the Soul Spring Spa that moved into that empty storefront on Beach Hollow Road next to the Golden Scoops.”

  Kiran’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Bit of irony, isn’t it? A weight-loss spa next to an ice cream parlor.”

  His voice was soft—barely above a whisper—and with a hint of a lisp.

  “He runs the most amazing weight-loss program.” She glanced at Monica again. “You must try it.”

  What was she insinuating? Monica looked down at herself. She thought she looked quite good considering she’d given birth only a few months ago. The saleswoman in Danielle’s had assured her that the dress she bought was flattering to her figure.

  “He’s the only practitioner in Cranberry Cove and the only one in the entire state of Michigan who has a Thermo, a brand-new technique that uses lasers to shape and contour the body along with his unique exercise classes.” Gina ran a hand over her hips. “And he has a line of supplements called Thermodynamics that help rid the body of fat.” She gave a self-satisfied smile. “I’m going to become one of his Soul Spring Ambassadors.”

  Monica tilted her head. “Meaning?”

  “I’m going to be selling Thermodynamics. Kiran says I can make a fortune. All I have to do is recruit other ambassadors to work under me. Sort of like that company that sells candles.” She snapped her fingers. “I can’t think of the name but you know what I mean.”

  She certainly did. Her mother had been ensnared by them and had lost money rather than made it. It seemed not everyone wanted to buy or sell candles with seasonal scents named Fallen Leaves and Peppermint Patty.

  Waitstaff began to circulate with round trays of sparkling wine and platters of hors d’oeuvres. Gina’s husband, the owner of the Pepper Pot Restaurant in town, had offered to cater the event at a very reasonable price and Mick, the newest baker on Monica’s staff, had been more than thrilled to provide the wedding cake.

  The cake was a masterpiece—three tiers covered in swirls of buttercream garnished with sugared cranberries and red roses nestled on top.

  A plump and pretty waitress with blond hair piled on top of her head and a name tag that read Heather offered them a tray of bite-sized quiches. Monica took one, but Gina shook her head, holding her glass of sparkling wine to her chest as if she was afraid it wa
s going to be snatched away before she was finished.

  “Excuse me,” Monica said, giving Gina’s hand a squeeze.

  She’d spotted Nora in the crowd clustered under the tent. Nora ran the farm store and Monica never stopped being grateful for her. She was wearing an A-line dress with short sleeves in a very becoming lavender. Monica was so used to seeing her in corduroy pants or khakis and one of her collection of sweatshirts with sayings on them like Motherhood Isn’t for Sissies that she almost didn’t recognize her.

  Monica made her way through the crowd toward her. “Nora! So glad you could come.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. It was all so lovely, wasn’t it? Jeff looked so handsome and Lauren was positively radiant.”

  People were beginning to make their way to the round tables arranged under the tent. They were covered in white tablecloths printed with cranberries with rustic centerpieces of wheat grass, burgundy-colored spider mums and stalks of greenery. A long buffet table had been set up on one side for the wedding breakfast. A row of gleaming chafing dishes held the main course choices of cranberry-glazed chicken, mini beef Wellingtons and saffron risotto along with various vegetables and salads.

  “I wonder why they call it a wedding breakfast?” a woman in a rust-colored silk dress said as she swept past Monica. She vaguely heard the woman’s companion’s answer. “It’s the first meal the bride and groom will eat as a couple. It began in . . .” The remainder of his explanation trailed away.

  Monica spotted Gerda and Hennie Van Velsen, the identical twin sisters, headed her way. They both looked charming in matching calf-length dresses in a burgundy tapestry print.

  Hennie squeezed Monica’s arm. “It’s all so lovely, dear.”

  Gerda patted her fluffy white curls. They’d both obviously had their hair done for the occasion.

  Indeed, it looked as if all of Cranberry Cove had donned their best for Jeff and Lauren’s wedding. Tempest Storm, the owner of Twilight, was wearing a caftan in a deep blue brocade shot with silver threads. She was sipping a glass of sparkling wine and chatting with Bart Dykema, who ran the butcher shop in town. Monica almost didn’t recognize him without the apron he always had tied around his waist.

  Greg was beginning to shepherd people to the buffet line, where waitstaff stood poised to serve the contents of the various chaffing dishes and platters.

  Monica finally joined them and made her way to the table where Gina, Kiran and her mother, Nancy, were already seated. Monica thought her mother looked lovely in a garnet scroll print sheath with a matching jacket. She looked from Nancy to Gina and back again. The two women couldn’t have been more different and yet her father had married both of them, one after the other. She shook her head. It was something she’d probably never understand.

  As soon as everyone had quieted down, Jeff’s best man, Brian Davis, who had been in the Army with him, gave a heartfelt toast, leaving Jeff reaching for a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. Other speeches followed and the guests began to eat.

  The rest of the meal seemed to go by in a blur and Monica could only imagine how Jeff and Lauren felt. They were both already standing by the table that held the wedding cake and Jeff had been handed a huge knife with a crystal handle. With Lauren’s hand over his, he sliced through the first tier of the cake. A round of applause burst out.

  Monica noticed Mick and a woman she didn’t recognize moving toward her.

  “The cake is a masterpiece, Mick. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  Mick beamed with pride.

  The woman with him edged closer and Mick took her by the arm.

  “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Jolie Spencer. He looked slightly sheepish. “I guess she’s Jolie Amentas now.”

  Monica was so startled she didn’t catch the woman’s first name. “I’m sorry, your name is . . . ?”

  “Jolie. It means pretty in French.” She patted her hair.

  When Monica hired Mick to help out in the farm kitchen, he hadn’t been married. And that had only been a couple of months ago. A lot of women in Cranberry Cove were going to be disappointed. Mick’s Greek god good looks had all the females in town drooling over him.

  Jolie appeared to be well into middle age with a voluptuous figure nearly spilling out of her dress and a beehive’s nest of teased blond hair. She had diamond studs the size of dimes in her ears, which had obviously been given to her by someone else or were well-made fakes. Certainly, Mick couldn’t afford jewelry like that on his salary.

  “Congratulations,” Monica managed to mumble.

  Silverware tapping against glasses created a melodic tinkling sound that filled the tent.

  “Look.” Mick pointed toward the cake. “Jeff and Lauren are about to feed each other.”

  There was no stuffing cake in each other’s face and Monica was relieved. Not that she had expected either Jeff or Lauren to do something like that.

  “I’d better go plate the rest of the cake,” Mick said, scurrying off. Jolie drifted away as well, leaving behind the mingling scents of vanilla and jasmine.

  “Would you care to dance?” Monica’s husband, Greg Harper, appeared in back of her and whispered in her ear.

  She turned, looked up at him and smiled. He was terribly handsome in his new suit and tie, so unlike the casual khakis and sweaters he wore every day to his shop Book ’Em. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, and she reached up and pushed back a lock that had fallen onto his forehead. “I’d love to dance.”

  As Greg led her onto the dance floor, his hand on the small of her back, she noticed Gina dancing with Kiran. The DJ had switched to an upbeat pop song and Gina was really letting loose. Monica hoped she wasn’t going to hurt herself.

  The song ended and Kiran began to walk away. He bumped into Jolie, leaving them both looking comically startled. Kiran nodded an apology and scurried off while Jolie swiped at her dress where some of her drink had splashed.

  After smoothing her dress, Jolie made a beeline for Monica, her brow wrinkled and her mouth set in a thin line.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said.

  “I’m going to get some water.” Greg began to walk away and Monica turned her attention to Jolie. “Yes? What is it?”

  “I think you should know,” Jolie began, but before she could finish her sentence, she noticed Mick gesturing at her. She glanced at him and then back to Monica.

  “I’m sorry. I think Mick needs me. I’ll talk to you later,” she whispered as she walked away.

  • • •

  In what felt like the blink of an eye, the wedding was over. A few people lingered, chatting, in small clusters on the lawn and one or two were still in their seats, but the waitstaff was already clearing off the buffet table, plunking dirty dishes and silverware into bus tubs with a clatter and bundling up tablecloths and napkins.

  Gina was collapsed in her seat, her high heels kicked off to the side and her feet up on an empty chair.

  Jolie was sitting with a young girl with blond hair and seemed to be having a heated discussion. Jolie got up suddenly and headed toward a row of boxwood topiary trees in decorative ceramic planters that had been brought in to obscure several white porta-potties. A young man from Johnny-on-the-Spot was meant to be collecting them momentarily.

  Monica was rubbing her feet—she so rarely ever wore heels—when she saw Wilma coming toward her pushing Teddy in his carriage. She normally worked as Greg’s assistant at Book ’Em, where she’d appointed herself general dogsbody and had been more than willing to step in as a babysitter.

  “Someone’s happy to see you,” she said, smiling down at the baby, who was making faint cooing sounds and kicking his feet.

  Monica’s heart melted at the sight of him. It still felt like a miracle even after more than two months. His wispy hair was dark like hers and Greg’s but he had Greg’s blue eyes and long lashes. When she was pregnant, people had constantly asked, are you hoping for a boy or a girl? She honestly hadn’t cared one way or the other, but now that Teddy was here, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect baby.

  She reached into the carriage, took him out and cradled him in her arms.

  “Gitchy goo,” someone said, and Monica looked up to see Janice leaning over the baby.