Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 Tamra Baumann (new books to read txt) š
- Author: Tamra Baumann
Book online Ā«Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 Tamra Baumann (new books to read txt) šĀ». Author Tamra Baumann
Bound To Be Dead
Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3
Tamra Baumann
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By Tamra
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authorās imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright Ā© 2021 by Tamra Baumann
All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-947591-13-4 (ebook) 978-1-947591-14-1 (print) 978-1-947591-15-8 (Large Print)
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of Tamra Baumann, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Tamra Baumann
Cover Art by The Cover Vault
Printed in the United States of America
Bound To Be Dead
This book is dedicated to Carol Potenza, the smartest college professor I know. Thanks for inspiring the unique murder weapon in this book.
Chapter 1
Agreeing to let my dad throw knives at me while heās blindfolded might not have been the smartest decision Iāve made in my thirty-two years here on earth. Yes, heās a magician, and itās all part of his show, but still. It isnāt like a trick hasnāt gone wrong before. And he hasnāt done this one in a very long time.
āSawyer Davis, youāve got to learn to say no,ā I whisper to myself as I lean back against a giant painted bullās-eye. Forcing a smile, I try to calm my nerves while my dad straps my hands and legs onto the big wheel. Then he flips a switch to make the target spin.
The crowd at our little community theater in Sunset Cove goes from right-side up to upside down, making me so dizzy, I might lose my lunch. I probably shouldāve waited until after the magic show to eat. But the trick never bothered me when I was a kid. When I was much smaller and left more room for the knives to pierce the wood.
We really should have practiced the trick at least once. If our annual talent show werenāt for a good cause, I wouldāve bailed on the show and my dad for sure.
My tall father, who looks fetching in his dark suit, long cape, and with dramatic white streaks at his temples, steps a few paces away. He picks up a blindfold and calls out, āLadies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do not try this trick at home. Only those with ātrue magicā can successfully perform this fantastic feat. Are you ready, Sawyer?ā
Not really, but I nod for the sake of the show, careful not to move too much or my costume might slip down. Dadās usual assistant has implants, looks like a Playboy bunny, and properly fills out the skimpy spandex costume Iām wearing. Iām a solid B on top, and Iām afraid I might have a wardrobe malfunction on the next rotation. I wish Dad would hurry up and get the trick over with before everyone in town gets firsthand knowledge that my body parts are what I was born with.
My nausea level continues to rise as my father, Max the Magnificent, makes a show of slicing paper so the audience will know the knives are real. The faces of the talent showās judges spinning before me arenāt helping my tummy matters.
The judging panel consists of Emily Kingsley, the wife of the townās merchant associationās chief rule enforcer, Joe Kingsley. She grimaces like sheās worried my brains might be getting overmixed. Or maybe because she knows my dad well enough to know things could go terribly wrong in the next few minutes.
The second judge, Pattie, our local hairdresser, is wearing her signature pink, making me wish I had an antacid that same color. And the third judge is my mean Uncle Frank, smiling like heās enjoying my humiliation. Actually, Iām sure he is enjoying my pain.
Still smiling through gritted teeth, I hiss, āGet on with it, Dad!ā
He winks at me before he pulls his blindfold up and over his eyes. With a shiny sharp knife in his hand, he says, āCount with me, everyone. Ready? One, two, three!ā He flips his wrist in a way heās spent hours practicing, and a thump sounds next to my head.
One knife down, four more to go. Iām not sure my stomach or my costume can take much more.
Applause fills the air, causing my dad to tap a finger against his lips. āThis takes all my concentration, folks.ā He waves a knife in the air and says, āSilencio, please.ā
My dad is such a drama queen. I guess thatās why heās a performer. Me? Iām a chef who has inherited a mystery bookshop from my recently dearly departed mother. Iām secretly working on a plan to open my own restaurant, figuring out what to do with my ex, who happens to be the townās sheriff, and how to be a good surrogate mother for my newly adopted fifteen-year-old sister. But all my lifeās complications pale when compared to being strapped to this giant spinning wheel like a crazy person.
Suddenly, the audience quiets, and everyone leans closer to the stage to see if the next knife is going to miss and pierce my heart. At least if that happened, itād hold up my top. I wouldnāt die with silver spandex pooled at my waist.
After another successful knife throw lands above my head, my fingers and toes are becoming numb from the straps. But by some miracle, my top has stayed put, so Iām grateful. Only one more trick after this one, and I can exit stage right.
At that point, my dad will be on his own to finish the show with a bang. Literally. Heās going to shoot himself out of a cannon and into a vat of ice cream outside.
Comments (0)