A Catered Doggie Wedding

Isis Crawford

• Publisher: Kensington Books
• Year: 2022
• eBook ISBN:
  9781496734990
• Print ISBN:
  9781496734969
• Subtopic: Crime & Mystery Literature

When Bernie and Libby Simmons, sisters and co-owners of A Little Taste of Heaven, are hired to cater a posh pooch party, they wind up stepping into a fresh murder investigation!

At A Little Taste of Heaven, Bernie and Libby Simmons cater all sorts of affairs, from book clubs to bridal showers and everything in between. So when their counterman, Googie, asks them to cater a doggie wedding for his girlfriend Jenni’s eight-month-old golden retrievers, they jump on the opportunity. The reception, which will also serve as a grand opening for Jennie’s new doggie daycare center, is no small affair. Bertha and Ernie—the bride and groom—will be celebrating with more than a hundred guests, including the puppers’ pals and their people.
 
But all weddings, even shaggy shindigs, come with some drama. Not everyone in town is excited about the upcoming pup-tuials—or Jenni’s business. Someone is sending threatening messages to Bernie, Libby, and others in town, warning them to cancel the festivities. But when folks start dying under curious circumstances, Bernie and Libby know it’s up to them to untangle the leads and find the murderer before anyone else bites it.
 
Includes Original Recipes for You to Try!
 

Chapter 1

The whole thing started at eight in the evening of June 8. Maybe not exactly then, but close enough. The request had seemed so innocuous, both Libby and Bernie later agreed.

Who would have thought it would have ended with a body? Actually two. Certainly they hadn’t. It’s true there was the email Bernie had gotten later that evening. Don’t cater the wedding. You’ll be sorry if you do. That should have warned them something was afoot.

But it hadn’t. Bernie had shown it to her sister, then deleted it. They both agreed it was ridiculous. Who would object to the wedding? Dog-hating trolls? Or maybe it was a joke. Or a competitor wanting the job? There were lots of possibilities. But the sisters were tired. It had been a long day—they’d catered a luncheon for the Longely Garden Club and a bridal shower for Mrs. Kimbell’s niece—and it was late, so they’d blown the email off and gone to bed.

But honestly, as Bernie later confessed, even if they’d known what was going to happen, they would have taken the job, anyway. On principle. Because neither she nor her sister liked being told what to do. And there was the curiosity factor, not to mention the “helping someone out” factor. But they might have been more careful. Taken more precautions. Not that it probably would have made a difference when all was said and done.

Googie had shown up fifteen minutes early that morning, an unusual occurrence for their twenty-four-year-old, six-foot, five-inch counterman, and been extra helpful throughout the day.

“I have a favor to ask,” he’d said as he’d put the half-full tub of A Taste of Heaven’s famous freshly made cabbage, jicama, and pineapple coleslaw back in the cooler for the night.

“Ah,” Libby replied, looking up from the tray of chocolate ginger cookies she was covering with plastic wrap to keep them fresh for the next day and thinking that now Googie’s behavior made sense. He’d even cleaned out the mixers without being asked.

Googie closed the cooler’s sliding glass door. “Well, not really a favor,” he amended. “We’ll pay.”

“Be still my heart,” Bernie remarked as she came out of the prep room. It was seven forty-five, and the shop was closing for the evening. Normally, they closed at seven in the summer, but tonight they’d stayed open later to accommodate one of their customers.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Googie shot back.

Bernie grinned. “I thought it was. Seriously, what do you need?”

“We need you to cater a wedding,” Googie explained. “We thought we could do it by ourselves, but the wedding has gotten bigger. A lot bigger, actually.”

“Oh my God! You and Jennie are getting married,” Bernie shrieked, rushing to embrace him.

“Not exactly,” Googie replied, smiling sheepishly as he took a step back. He wasn’t a huggy, kissy kinda guy. “Bertha and Ernie are.” And he pointed through the opened door to the sidewalk, where his two eight-month-old golden retrievers were sitting. They wagged their tails in unison and woofed. His girlfriend, Jennie, grinned and waved.

“Ah, puppy love is a beautiful thing,” Bernie observed.

Googie pressed an imaginary button. “Wrong choice. Try again.”

“A shotgun wedding?”

Googie feigned outrage. “I’m shocked you would suggest something like that.”

“I believe the phrase is shocked and appalled,” Bernie said.

Googie gave her a blank look.

“Casablanca?” Bernie said.

Googie shook his head.

“Obviously, you’re not a lover of old movies,” Bernie told him.

“Westerns,” Googie said. “I like Westerns.”

“Me too,” Bernie agreed, changing the subject. “Too bad about the puppies. I would have taken one.”

Googie raised an eyebrow. “Would you really?”

“Yes,” Bernie said at the same time her sister said, “No.”

“In any case,” Bernie continued, “they’re adorable, and I’m sure the wedding will be, too.”

Libby wasn’t so sure about that. She remembered the cat wedding she and her sister had catered some years ago. That hadn’t gone well. To say the least. But then again, cats weren’t known for their ability to take directions.

“You’re serious?” she asked, turning to face Googie.

“I’m serious,” Googie assured her. “Jennie is opening up a doggie day-care center where Beerly There was.”

Bernie whistled. “I bet Renee isn’t happy,” Bernie observed, Renee being the owner of the high-end dress store next door.

Googie frowned. “Talk about an understatement. She tried to get a restraining order. Something about an untenable atmosphere imperiling her business—whatever that means.”

“It means she doesn’t want dogs around,” Bernie said. “Of course, she wasn’t too happy about the restaurant, either,” Bernie reflected. “I guess she should have read her lease more carefully.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning some commercial leases have exclusion clauses. Obviously, Renee’s doesn’t.”

Googie’s frown deepened. “I don’t know about clauses, but I do know she’s a . . .”

“Little tightly wound,” Bernie said. She had been going to say bitch but had decided against it.

Googie laughed. “So you know her?” he asked.

“I do,” Bernie replied, thinking about her last encounter with Renee. She’d bought a dress there last year and discovered a small rip in one of the seams when she’d gotten it home. Not a problem, Bernie had thought. At least it shouldn’t have been, but when she’d returned the dress the next day, Renee had accused Bernie of doing it herself. They’d finally come to an agreement, but the incident had left a bad taste in Bernie’s mouth, and she hadn’t shopped there since.

Googie sighed. “I hope she calms down.”

“Me too,” Bernie said, even though she was pretty sure Renee wasn’t going to. But Bernie didn’t say that. What would be the point? The lease had already been signed; the damage done. “So when are you and Jennie getting married?” Bernie teased, changing the subject. “We could have a double wedding.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Googie replied.

“Maybe I should ask Jennie what she thinks,” Bernie mused.

“Don’t you dare,” Googie cried, a look of panic on his face.

Bernie lifted her hand. “Peace. Just kidding.”

“I hope so. Now, as I was saying,” Googie went on before Bernie could say anything else, “Jennie thought the wedding would be a good way to advertise the opening of Woof Woof. We have Marcy Black as the florist and Denise Alvarez as the photographer, and we were hoping to have you guys as the caterers. We started with ten people, but now we’re up to . . .” He paused for a minute to do a mental count. “Oh, maybe a hundred.”

“A hundred?” Libby repeated.

“Maybe a few more if we count the wedding party,” Googie allowed.

“Is the wedding party canine or human?” Bernie asked.

“Canine, of course,” Googie replied, “but I was talking about their handlers.”

“Finger foods,” Libby said suddenly, thinking out loud about the menu. ”Definitely finger foods.”

“Pigs in a blanket. Dog-shaped crackers with a variety of cheeses. Melon strips cut into bone shapes and wrapped in prosciutto,” Bernie suggested. “Maybe a paw print wedding cake?”

Googie beamed. “So that’s a yes? You’ll take the job?”

Libby answered for herself and her sister. “We will.” And with that she and Bernie went outside to greet the bride and the groom.

Jennie squealed and clapped her hands when she heard the verdict. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. This is going to be amazing.” She turned to the goldens. “Right, Bertha? Right, Ernie?”

Ernie and Bertha wagged their tails so hard, their rear ends wiggled from side to side. Then Bertha jumped up and gave Libby a big, wet dog smooch on the mouth.

“Eww. Dog germs,” Libby cried, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, while Bernie laughed.

“We’re working on their manners,” Jennie said, apologizing, while trying and failing to stop Ernie from ramming his nose into Bernie’s crotch and sniffing. “I guess he likes you,” Jennie said, grabbing the eighty-pound golden retriever’s collar and pulling him back as he tried to dive between Bernie’s legs.

“I guess he does,” Bernie said, scratching Ernie’s back. His fur felt soft against her fingers. “So where’s the reception going to be held?”

“At Woof Woof. The same place as the wedding,” Jennie said. “Want to see it?”

“Now?”

Jennie nodded. “The reno isn’t done yet, we still have to do most of the build-out, but it’ll give you an idea. The whole thing is going to be state of the art.”

“Sure. Why not?” Bernie replied. “Just give us another twenty minutes to finish closing up, and we’ll be right over.”

Jennie hugged them both. “This is going to be perfect,” she gushed. “Absolutely perfect.”

Chapter 2

“We’re going to be late,” Libby observed. It had taken her and her sister a little longer to close the shop than they’d anticipated.

“Ten minutes,” Bernie replied as she stopped for the light on Elmcrest.

Five motorcyclists roared by them, the noise taking over the street; then it faded as they receded into the distance. Old guys looking to recapture their joyriding days, Bernie thought as the light turned green. She wasn’t in a rush to arrive at their destination. It was a lovely summer evening, and she was reveling in its embrace. The day had cooled off, and the breeze coming through Mathilda’s opened windows brought with it the sweet scent of early June. It had been an unusually long, cold, and wet spring, and the trees had greened out and gotten their summer outfits on later than usual.

Limestone Plaza was a cute little cul-de-sac that butted up against an upscale residential neighborhood. Shops fronted the sidewalk. Behind them a meadow filled with dandelions and clover sloped down to a small creek where watercress grew. There was a New York–style steak house on one side of the road, as well as a fancy beauty salon and spa, a jewelry store, a wine shop, a yoga studio, and a small gift shop that specialized in organic handmade objects.

Woof Woof was located on the opposite side of the street, next to Renee’s shop, the two places forming a triangle with the yoga studio and the beauty salon. Large cedar barrels filled with begonias and ivy demarcated the line between the sidewalk and the street, while wire baskets full of pink and purple impatiens hung from the lampposts. In the afternoon, the parking spaces were filled with doctors’ wives’ BMWs and Infinitis, but now the stores were closed, and the street was empty, the freshly painted white lines vivid against the blacktop. Only a handful of vehicles remained, and they belonged to the people dining at the steak house.

Bernie had just reached the cul-de-sac and was singing along to “Dancing in the Street” when she heard yelling intertwined with barking. The sounds grew louder as they got closer. “Ah, nothing like the sweet sound of conflict on a summer’s eve,” she remarked, paraphrasing a line from Apocalypse Now.

Libby turned toward her sister. “Do those voices belong to whom I think they do?” she asked.

Bernie pressed her lips together, gave the van a little more gas, and rounded the corner as she spoke. “That would be a yes.”

“They’re not exactly evenly matched,” Libby commented as she watched Jennie and Renee facing off on the sidewalk.

“Definitely not,” Bernie agreed. She put Renee at five feet, two inches tall and one hundred pounds, if that, while Jennie was five feet, eight inches tall and a fit 140 pounds.

“Very far from,” Libby observed.

“My money’s on Renee in a full-on catfight, though,” Bernie added as she brought Mathilda to a stop in front of the two women. “What she lacks in height she makes up for in ferocity.”

“Definitely,” Libby said as Renee and Jennie stopped screaming at each other and faced the van.

“Are you two trying out for the new all girls Wrestle-Mania team?” Bernie asked as she exited Mathilda. “I understand they’re looking for new recruits. I can see it now.” Bernie lifted her hand and painted an imaginary banner in the sky. “The fashionista vs. the granolista. I bet it would be a cult hit on Netflix.”

“Cute,” Renee said.

Bernie gave her, her best smile. “I like to think I am.”

“Thank God you’re here,” Jennie said at the same time Renee told Bernie she wasn’t talking about her.

“See, she likes me,” Bernie said, pointing to Jennie.

“She likes them, too,” Renee said, nodding to the goldens. “It wasn’t intended as a compliment.”

Bertha and Ernie barked and wagged their tails.

“How can anyone not like them?” Jennie demanded.

“Yeah,” Bernie said, raising her voice to be heard over the dogs. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

Renee glared at her. “Oh joy,” she said. “Just what we need.”

“A charming woman with an excellent fashion sense?” Bernie chirped, because sometimes she couldn’t help herself.

Renee snorted and patted her curly red hair into place. “I would love someone like that . . . if they were here. Unfortunately, they’re not.”

“Is that any way to treat an old customer?” Bernie asked as she reflected that if Renee fell off a boat, she’d sink under the weight of all the jewelry she was wearing. “Tell me,” she asked Renee, referring to the necklaces and bracelets she had on, “do you take off all those necklaces and bracelets every night?”

“I’d go broke if I had customers like you,” Renee retorted, ignoring Bernie’s question.

“I hear that’s what you’re doing,” Bernie shot back as Ernie and Bertha charged toward her, their tails going back and forth like metronomes.

Renee glowered. “I don’t know where you’re getting your news from, but you should find a new source....

Table of contents

• Also by
• Title Page
• Table of Contents
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• 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
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Chapter 27
• Chapter 28
• Chapter 29
• Chapter 30
• Chapter 31
• Chapter 32
• Chapter 33
• Chapter 34
• Chapter 35
• Chapter 36
• Chapter 37
• Chapter 38
• Chapter 39
• Chapter 40
• Recipes
• Notes