Fiddling with Fate (A Southern Homebrew Mystery, Band 3) - Softcover

Kelly, Diane

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593333268 ISBN 13: 9780593333266

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

When a local bluegrass musician disappears and a jug of her shop’s corn liquor is implicated, moonshiner Hattie Hayes must stop further trouble from brewing in this delightful cozy mystery series.

It’s August in Chattanooga, Tennessee and moonshiner Hattie Hayes has collaborated with a nearby vineyard to serve her moonshine at a Wine and 'Shine event. Not only is this an opportunity for Hattie to gain more moonshine fans, but she’s also excited to hear the Bootlegging Brothers, a popular bluegrass band. But not every attendee is looking for harmony. When one of the brothers disappears and is presumed dead, Hattie realizes her grace note gathering has suddenly turned more sour than her mash.

Unearthing what happened to the missing musician is more difficult than Hattie first expected. Hattie’s moonshine is tied to the crime and there’s no time to fiddle around—she has to step up to solve the case. Luckily, Hattie’s cool head and quick mind help her understand that when investigating a musical crime, always stay sharp.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

After spending several fun years in Nashville, Tennessee, Diane Kelly ventured over to the eastern side of the Appalachian range and now resides in the heart of North Carolina. She found herself fascinated by the region's rich past, especially the secret moonshiners who served up spirits during Prohibition and their runners who spawned the auto racing industry. She also fell in love with the beautiful Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains, and the quaint cities and towns scattered among them. With its natural splendor, storied history, and southern charm, Chattanooga is one of Diane's favorite vacation spots, and she is excited to set her Moonshine Shack series along its riverfront.

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Chapter One

By late August in Chattanooga, Tennessee, folks have had their fill of the summer's relentless sunshine, heat, and humidity. Fortunately, though, they hadn't had their fill of bluegrass music or moonshine. That's why I was up early this Saturday morning, scurrying about my tiny mountainside cabin, getting myself ready for the opening of the Hamilton County Bluegrass Festival. I'd donned my usual firefly-green T-shirt that bore my moonshine brand's logo, a pair of old-fashioned denim overalls, and sneakers with gel inserts and arch supports. I'd be on my feet all day at the festival. Best to be prepared. For the final touch, I pulled my brown curls up into a carefree ponytail, swiped a few coats of mascara on my lashes to accentuate my dark-brown eyes, and applied a light coat of lip gloss. There. All done. No sense putting much more effort into my appearance. With the outdoor temps still lingering near ninety, makeup would melt off my face. Besides, I wasn't the glamorous type to begin with and, at just over five feet tall, I was better off going for girl-next-door rather than gorgeous.

My gray cat, Smoky, eyed me from atop the kitchen counter, where he lounged. Unsanitary, I supposed. But I'd scolded the cat and removed him from the counter a thousand times before and learned it was a futile endeavor. The instant his paws hit the floor, he'd jump right back up onto the countertop. I bent over and put my face in his while scratching behind his ears. "Be a good boy while I'm gone, okey dokey, Smoky?"

The swish of his tail said, Nope. Not even gonna think about behaving. He'd probably spend the day sharpening his claws on my couch, shedding on my bed coverings, or kicking the litter out of his box.

I gave him a kiss on the head and headed out to my fluorescent-green glow-in-the-dark van. In the daylight, it just looked crazy bright but, come nighttime, you couldn't miss the van as I made my way around town, advertising my wares as I went about my business. My first order of business today was to pick up my granddaddy from the Singing River Retirement Home. If not for Benjamin Hayes having lovingly taught me how to make moonshine, I wouldn't even have my Moonshine Shack shop. I owed everything to him. Well, maybe I owed some to his father, who'd first taught him the secrets of moonshining, and to my Irish ancestors who'd preceded him, bringing their whiskey-making know-how over with them from the mother country when they'd immigrated long ago and settled in the mountains here.

I motored down the winding road that led from my cabin into the beautiful city of Chattanooga. Granddaddy waited on a bench in front of the one-story stone retirement home, clearly eager to start the day. He might be almost ninety years old, but he was like a little boy when it came to our moonshine. He loved talking up the 'shine with customers, drawing them in with his folksy charm. Today, he'd enjoy the fresh air and music. Bluegrass was his favorite, especially the classics like "Rocky Top," "Mountain Dew," "The Wabash Cannonball," and the fast-paced instrumental "Foggy Mountain Breakdown."

When Granddaddy spotted me approaching, he pushed himself up to a wobbly stand and stuck out a gnarled thumb as if attempting to hitch a ride. Forever the jokester.

I unrolled the window, raised a hand in greeting, and called, "Hey, Granddaddy! Ready to hear some good music?"

"Sure am, Hattie!" he called back. "Ready to sell lots of 'shine, too."

Like him, I hoped for big sales today. Since I'd launched my brand and opened my Moonshine Shack, things had been a roller-coaster ride. Not long ago, the former owner of the Irish pub located across the street from my shop was found dead on my store's stoop, and my moonshine had also later been implicated-wrongly-in a poisoning death. But things had bounced back and were on an upswing now. Only time would tell how far up the swing would go. The festival was a perfect opportunity to introduce my 'shine to more folks. There was sure to be a big crowd of both locals and bluegrass fans from around the region. With any luck, they'd spread the word about my 'shine when they went back home to their cities and towns.

I hopped down from my van and helped my granddaddy into the passenger seat. Though he fussed at me the entire time and insisted he didn't need my help, he'd have never gotten into the seat without a little boost from me. As we drove off, he waved goodbye to a trio of women working a puzzle on the veranda. "See you later, ladies!"

They waved back, one in particular treating him to a bright smile filled with perfect teeth. She'd clearly polished her dentures. They were as white as her curly hair, which she'd swept up into a wild knot atop her head. With her curls and carefree smile, she resembled my long-gone granny.

I glanced over at Granddaddy. "Something going on between you and Louise?"

"Her name's Louetta," he snapped, "and nothing's going on. How could you even ask me that? She sits by me sometimes on movie night and we share a popcorn, but that's all."

Fighting a grin, I asked, "Do you plan in advance to sit together at the movies?"

"No," he said. "She asks me if I'm going to watch the show and, if I say yes, she saves me a seat. But there's no plan."

Sure sounds like a date to me. "I think you've got yourself a girlfriend, Granddaddy."

"No, I don't!" He sent a heated look my way and scowled. "I'd never cheat on your granny."

The poor, naïve fool. He might not realize he was dating Louetta, but I was pretty sure she thought she was dating him. Besides, you couldn't cheat on someone who'd been gone for over decade. His heart would always belong to Granny, but I'd bet even she wouldn't mind seeing him enjoy some female companionship. I dropped the subject, though. No sense getting him all riled up. He was difficult enough on his best behavior, and I'd never forgive myself if he suffered a stroke or heart attack on my account.

We drove on to Market Street, turned down the back alley, and parked in the Moonshine Shack's rear parking lot next to the single-horse trailer I'd repurposed as a portable moonshine bar. I'd spotted the old trailer behind the barn where my boyfriend, a mounted police officer, boarded his horse. The paint had faded, the metal had begun to rust, and the tires had been worn bald. Like the old gray mare, the trailer wasn't what it used to be and had been put out to pasture. When I'd approached the owner of the boarding facility about buying the trailer, he'd barked a laugh. "Hon, you don't want to put a horse in that old thing. The floor's likely to cave in."

I told him I wouldn't be using it to transport a horse, but rather planned to repurpose it as a mobile moonshine bar. He'd barked another laugh. "You millennials. You're always turning things on their heads. You've got imagination, I'll give you that."

Speaking of giving . . . "How about I give you fifty dollars and you give me the trailer?"

"Sold!"

As fast as he'd accepted my offer, I had to wonder if instead I should've asked him to pay me fifty bucks to haul the thing away. My friend Kiki Nakamura and I had laid some plywood over the floor of the trailer to cover the holes. We'd also painted the outside a beautiful midnight blue with the word moonshine in glow-in-the-dark fluorescent green across each side. Kiki, a graphic artist, added a white crescent moon and a scattering of brilliant stars. When we finished, I had an adorable portable beverage bar that I could use to serve my moonshine at outdoor events. The cost of the trailer and paint was less than the price for renting a commercial food trailer a single time. I didn't need all the bells and whistles of a fully outfitted food truck anyway. There was no need for running water, gas, or electricity. Moonshine could be stored at...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593333268
• ISBN 13: 9780593333266
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 288
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Friedensallee 273; Hamburg; 22763; Deutschland