âIâm impressed by your courage,â Rafe said. âThe B and B owners here in Glory put everything at risk-even silly pranks can threaten your future. I couldnât handle the stress.â
âSo you chose a low-stress career-police work,â Emma said.
âItâs a different kind of stress,â Rafe said with a smile. âGloryâs mystery prankster, for example-I wish we had more leads.â
Emma stopped, standing under a streetlight on Water Street. âWell,â she said, âthereâs one lead we havenât considered yet.â
To Rafeâs surprise, Emmaâs âweâ sounded perfectly appropriate.
âThereâs some sort of deeper connection between the latest prank and my bed-and-breakfast,â she said.
Ron and Janet Benrey began writing romantic cozy mysteries together more than ten years agoâchiefly because they both loved to read them. Their successful collaboration surprised them both, because they have remarkably different backgrounds.
Ron holds degrees in engineering, management and law. He built a successful career as a nonfiction writer specializing in speechwriting and other aspects of business writing. Janet was an entrepreneur before she earned a degree in communications, working in fields such as professional photography, executive recruiting and sporting-goods marketing.
How do they write together and still stay married? Thatâs the question that readers ask most. The answer is that theyâve developed a process for writing novels that makes optimum use of their individual talents. Perhaps even more important, their love for cozy mysteries transcends the inevitable squabbles that occur when theyâre writing.
âWhatâs wrong with this picture?â Emma McCall muttered, as she plunged her hands into a mound of croissant dough. âItâs pitch-black outside and Iâm up to my elbows in flour.â
Emma was the sole proprietor of The Scottish Captain, a bed-and-breakfast in Glory, North Carolina. Some days, though, the Captain seemed to own her. Today was a perfect example. She had risen at 4:00 a.m. because Calvin Constable, her breakfast chef, had taken a well-earned day off. That left Emma on her own to prepare this morningâs breakfast, until Peggy Lyons, her housekeeper, arrived at six.
Emma glanced at the wall clock in the kitchen. Ten to six. If Peggy came on timeâand if nothing went wrongâthey would finish with ten minutes to spare. Just enough time to strip off her scruffy T-shirt and faded blue jeans and slip into one of her chic hostess outfits. Today she might go for the tailored suit in a shade of tan that went well with her dark brown hair.
The Captain had six guest rooms and could accommodate a maximum of eighteen guests in a pinch, although off-season bookings rarely exceeded half a dozen. On this, the first Wednesday in November, Emma had to prepare breakfast for five people.
The centerpiece dish would be Eggs Sardou, a classic New Orleans concoction of poached eggs served on artichokes with spinach and hollandaise sauce. She would also offer a selection of imported bacon and sausages, hot croissants, fresh-squeezed orange juice and her âsignatureâ gingered fruit compote. And, of course, coffee and brewed tea.
Emma had decided to serve an elaborate breakfast because three of her guests were New England travel writers, part of a contingent on a pre-winter junket through North Carolina. Their favorable recommendations might bring flocks of northern âsnowbirdsâ to The Scottish Captain as they traveled south. The other two guestsâa couple who hailed from Marylandâalso had influence. He was a prominent Washington attorney, she an evening news anchor on a Baltimore TV station.
Emma had just begun to shape croissants on a large buttered pan when Peggy Lyons burst into the kitchen and shouted, âThereâs a bug on the porch.â
Emma willed herself not to scream at Peggy. She had seen this same panic-stricken look on her housekeeperâs face many times before. Peggy was a fine worker but easily flustered by minor problems. Emma unstuck her fingers from the slick, buttery dough.
âTromp on the bug, Peggy,â she said, evenly. âWhap it with a newspaper, spray it with insecticide, or catch it in ajar. Pick one of the above, but do it quickly. I need your help.â
âYou donât understand, Emma. Thereâs a Bug on the porch. A car! A silver Volkswagen Beetle convertible.â
Rafe Neilson fumbled for his cell phone in the dark. He knew without looking at the glowing Caller ID display that Angie Ringgold needed his advice. Angieâa newcomer to the departmentâwas the only police officer on duty in Glory, North Carolina, that morning.