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  SOAP ON A ROPE

  COLD CREAM MURDERS - Book 3

  barbara silkstone

  Soap on a Rope©

  Cold Cream Murders - Book 3

  Barbara Silkstone 2019

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental or written with love. Starfish Cove, Florida is a creation of this author’s imagination.

  Contents

  Barbara Silkstone News Letter

  COLD CREAM MURDERS

  Soap on a Rope blurb

  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

  Untitled

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Recipe for Lavender Honey Lemon Soap

  Reviews

  About the Author

  Cold Cream Murders

  Barbara Silkstone News Letter

  To receive an email when a new book by Barbara Silkstone is published, or for special sales and giveaways please sign up for my newsletter. Your information will not be shared with anyone and you may unsubscribe at any time. I promise not to pester you!

  With love & laughter!

  http://secondactcafe.com/barbara-silkstone/

  COLD CREAM MURDERS

  Olive Peroni put out her family therapy shingle six years ago never thinking her top client would be the retired head of a New York crime family. When Olive’s Nonna dies, leaves her a condo in Florida and a secret recipe for miracle cold cream, she grabs the chance at a new life in Starfish Cove, Florida, making designer creams for ladies who spend far too much time at the beach. Business is brisk and life is good! Olive even makes a wild new best friend and business partner in Lizzy, the real estate agent who handles the transfer of Nonna’s condo.

  But when the quiet little community on the Gulf of Mexico soon begins to compete with a certain notorious coastal village in Maine, Olive finds herself solving odd-ball murders as often as she soothes wrinkles. Clean and wholesome!

  Each book contains a recipe for homemade cosmetics and beautifiers!

  Soap on a Rope blurb

  SOAP ON A ROPE – COLD CREAM MURDERS – Book 3

  When Nelson Dingler is found dangling from a chandelier—feet-side up—Grams Dingler determines to find her son’s killer. Can Olive help her best friend save her feisty grandmother from suffering the same fate? And can the Cold Cream Shop survive while Olive psyches out the killer?

  Contains a recipe for heavenly lavender lemon honey soap.

  Chapter 1

  Sophia Napoli stood in perfect dancer’s posture at her marble-top kitchen counter. With her tall frame erect and her shoulders back, she wiggled her voluptuous bottom—moving to the samba music playing softly throughout her palatial tower residence on Biscayne Bay.

  The Italian film star’s technique for chopping green peppers into fine little cubes would have put the greatest chef to shame. Using the blade of her knife, she scooped the peppers aside into a little pile, and then attacked a peeled onion. When her eyes began to moisten, she ran the onion under tap water, and continued to slice.

  Lizzy and I sat at the opposite end of the sleek counter our mouths hanging open—not from hunger but from awe. How easily life can turn a corner and offer up the wildest surprises.

  After I met Lizzy Kelly my world topsy-turvyed into one astonishment after another. The combination of our energies nudged me to take my foot off the brakes and swerve into the bumper car lane of life. I morphed from on-call mobster therapist to cold cream entrepreneur and crime solver in the course of a few wild days and, incredibly, the pace over the next months accelerated from there.

  Sophia paused in her little dance. “This brings me such joy—making my special omelets for the sleuth ladies of Starfish Cove!” Using a graceful pick and crack rhythm Sophia broke half a dozen eggs into a large clear bowl, never dropping a shell or dribbling goop. She beat them with a whisk while chatting with us.

  “Almost forgot funghi!” She plucked a handful of porcini from a colander and began to slice.

  “Chopping gives the most pleasure in cooking. There is such passion in axing—no?” She smiled broadly. There were so many layers to this woman. So much more than beauty and international stardom—she was down-to-earth and funny.

  I grinned back at her. “I know what you mean. Now and then it feels good to slam something really hard.”

  From behind Sophia’s shoulder, a beam of sunlight bounced off the green-blue waters of Biscayne Bay, shot through the tinted glass that ran floor to ceiling, reflected off the pedestaled gold statue—her Oscar—and pierced my eyes. I angled my barstool out of the assaulting sunlight and returned to watching our hostess.

  She scooped all the sliced goodies, including minced basil into a bowl and then wiggle-walked to the stove. She had Lizzy beat in the hubba-hubba saunter competition.

  The wonder on my partner’s face tickled me. The first day we met she confessed her adoration for the Italian movie star after admiring my grandmother’s collection of photographs and portraits of her beloved Sophia Napoli. Next to pizza, the woman was Italy’s most famous ambassador.

  “I can hear your nonna laughing in heaven,” Sophia said. “Her thoughtful little present to me bring us together.” With an elegant motion she poured green-gold olive oil into a white enamel skillet.

  She opened her hand in my direction. “Though we never met, I was sad to see Isabella’s obituary. At least ten years ago she sent me a lifetime subscription to the Silverfish Gazette. Out of the blue! Like that!” She snapped her fingers. “It comes in the mail with a note she is from my village in Italy and hopes the small-town gossip reminds me of home. I send her a thank-you card, but never kept in touch. Colpa mia.”

  So that was how Sophia Napoli came to subscribe to the Silverfish Gazette. I sat mesmerized by all that happened since we left the airport, chauffeured by Sophia’s hunky assistant and bodyguard, Fabio Santoro.

  She adjusted the flame under the skillet. “Isabella was right. The news, she comforts me, even though I was just a girl when my mother brought me to America. I always have the Silverfish when I travel. I read the stories from Starfish Cove over and over and they soothe me. When my life is too crazy, the Silverfish reminds me there are places where people are happy to live small lives.”

  She tumbled the chopped vegetables into the oil and gave them a gentle stir.

  “Then I read of the murders! What happened to my innocent town? And then your name, Olive Peroni! A relative of Isabella—we must meet the next time I’m in Florida! You and sweet Lizzy are heroes—heroines. See the story of your bravery is on the counter.”

  I reached for the old issue of the Silverfish Gazette, the grainy photo of Lizzy and me above the fold but below the paper’s slogan Catch the News Before It Crawls Away!

  T
he way Lizzy’s grandmother—known to everyone as Grams— recounted our most recent case one would think Lizzy and I wore bodysuits adorned with a gigantic S on the chest and flaring capes of red satin.

  It was the first time I’d taken a good look at the small print on the irregular little paper. Circulation 100,000. Grams was the Silverfish’s ace reporter in charge of exaggeration. The beachside community of Starfish Cove had a population that might stretch to fifteen hundred if you included the cats and dogs.

  A small block ad on the lower left corner of the front page caught my eye. I hadn’t paid attention to the flip side except to check the spelling on our Open House invitation ad.

  “Lizzy, did you notice this?” I pointed to the black and red box with a magician’s hat. Offbeat even for Starfish Cove.

  Stretching across the counter Lizzy snaked the Gazette her way. “Oh no. He’s back.”

  Chapter 2

  Sophia ceased humming and stopped her wiggle-dance. “Che cosa?”

  “Nothing!” Lizzy said. “Just some silly pretend magicians—a cheesy way of getting attention for their convention. Trust me, you’re not missing anything. When you come to visit, we’ll show you the beauty of the beaches. Did I mention I have fifty-two finches in my home? They fly loose all over my house. My dog is named WonderDog. He adores the little birds and wears them in his long stringy hair.”

  “Your life is like a fairytale—no?”

  This visit was the fairytale. Two cold cream mini-moguls from the west coast of Florida being omeleted by an international film star on the twenty-second-floor of Rocca Garda, the most exclusive, high security building in Miami.

  Sophia went back to cooking. “Presto! Presto! No one leaves my house without a full stomaco! You will have time to make your return flight. But you must come again and stay longer. And someday I will visit Starfish Cove. I fly to London tomorrow for the young prince’s celebration and then to Switzerland. I am always busy but I come to visit Isabella’s beloved town by the sea.”

  Lizzy successfully diverted attention from the ad. Why?

  With the edge of her spatula, Sophia cut the giant omelet into thirds, then expertly used it to slide the pieces onto gleaming china plates, one for each of us. “Mangia! Mangia! Eat!”

  I squinched my eyes shut and sent a telepathic message to Lizzy. Please Lizzy don’t ask for ketchup.

  “Do you have ketchup?”

  Sophia’s lower jaw dropped an inch. My partner had just insulted the labors of a legend. I glared at my ketchup-loving friend, but she was clueless.

  Our hostess burst in to laughter. “I don’t think there is what you call ketchup in this entire tower.”

  Lizzy waved her hand dismissively. “No problem. This is wonderful.”

  Fortunately for Lizzy’s shin the position of my barstool prevented me from giving her the good kick she deserved.

  We tucked into our omelets. Between bites we answered Sophia’s questions about our world and Nonna’s cold cream.

  “It would help your business if I endorse your cream. No?” Sophia’s dark tiger-eyes flashed from me to Lizzy.

  I almost choked on my omelet. “It would be fabulous but we can’t afford an endorsement fee. Even if we give you a percentage of our sales, it won’t amount to a thousandth or a millionth of what you should receive. You are known for not doing many endorsements.”

  “Fees? I didn’t say anything about fees.”

  “But you have your image to protect! It would be presumptuous of me to think you would go out on a limb for us.”

  “Limbs are good! If you don’t go out on the limb, you never learn to fly!” She grinned like a cat lapping a bowl of cream.

  “I will send Fabio to Starfish Cove once I am with the royal family. I will not need his protection for the ten days I am in London or Switzerland. He will inspect your business, look at your bookkeeping, and test your beautifiers. If everything meets his approval, I will endorse.”

  She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. “If possible to be secret, I would enjoy time in Starfish Cove. But when I come I will disguise myself. Act as a relative. Yes?”

  My phone rang from deep within my purse which sat on an antique table near the foyer. The loud ring was the one I’d assigned to Officer Kal Miranda. Torn between ignoring it and responding to the little twinge in my gut, I got up from the counter.

  “Olive? This is a good plan. No?”

  “It’s a wonderful plan, Sophia! Excuse me while I grab my phone. That’s an emergency ring.”

  We left Grams and Ivy in charge of the shop for the day. A tiny piece of my mind fretted over how things were going.

  “Olive? It’s Kal. Is Lizzy nearby?”

  “She’s not but hang on, I’ll take the phone to her.”

  “Wait! We need to talk first!”

  The tone in his voice chilled me.

  “You should know this so you can comfort her. Nelson Dingler is dead.”

  “Lizzy’s father?”

  “Yes. That Nelson Dingler.”

  “Natural or unnatural?” I stepped further into the foyer so my voice wouldn’t carry. It had been months since the last murder in Starfish Cove. We were overdue.

  “The M.E. is saying natural by unnatural circumstances. Grams Dingler found the body when she went to check on her son. I’m worried about her. Can you ladies get an earlier flight?”

  “We were about to leave for the airport. We land at five-fifteen.”

  “Meet me at Dingler’s place. Now…put Lizzy on.”

  Chapter 3

  Lizzy pressed the phone to her ear. “Say that again.” Confusion. Anger. Quivering lip.

  Nelson Dingler, a larger than life figure, Commodore of the Starfish Cove Yacht Club. A bulldog. Often the centerpiece of gossip. Disliked by those who barely knew him. Hated by those who did.

  I’d watched Lizzy wrangle, tangle, and seek his approval too many times to worry she might take his passing hard. He would not be missed except for the love she never felt and now stood no chance of ever winning.

  She passed the phone back to me. “I should cry but I can’t find the tears.” She stepped away from the counter, walked to the glass wall overlooking the Bay and kept her back to us.

  “Lizzy’s father just passed away,” I whispered to Sophia.

  “Madre di Dio!” Sophia turned as if to follow Lizzy.

  I reached out, touched her arm, and shook my head. “Give her a minute.”

  She mouthed the question murder?

  Starfish Cove’s reputation raced ahead of the facts. I whispered no—although I wasn’t certain. What did natural by unnatural circumstances mean?

  “I think it’s best we leave right away. She’ll want to be sure we’re at the airport on time.”

  “I’ll summon Fabio.” She pressed a button on her watch. “Was sweet Lizzy close to her father?”

  “Not at all. He was an angry man who did not like women.”

  She raised one brow.

  As a trained psychologist, I knew Sophia would understand. I lowered my voice. “Not like that. He was a man who didn’t like men or women but in particular he held no warmth for the ladies in his life. Lizzy spent a lot of her energy trying to win his approval. Now he’s gone and she’ll never succeed.”

  Sophia dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

  Lizzy returned and stood between us with dry eyes, her countenance not cheerful, but calm. “Don’t look at me like you’re worried. I’m fine. Can we leave now for the airport in case there’s traffic?”

  Fabio entered the room in response to the buzzer on Sophia’s watch. “Yes, Ms. Napoli?”

  The man moved like a jungle cat—muscular, sleek, and silent. He was easy on the eyes in that smoldering Italian way. My taste in men ran in my genes.

  “The ladies must leave now. Make certain they get to the airport quickly.” Sophia reached out and embraced Lizzy. “I’m sorry for your loss. You’re a strong woman. Do what must be done. We shall meet again—
soon.”

  Held in her motherly embrace Lizzy swallowed a sob. “Sorry to eat and run,” she mumbled as she freed herself.

  We left Sophia’s in disarray. Life had just turned another of those sharp corners leaving happy street and headed for my monthly confab with the medical examiner. It was only a matter of time before the gossips linked me with the M.E. We had to stop meeting like this.

  Lizzy and I sat silently in the back of Sophia’s black sedan, the heavily tinted windows shutting out the world. Fabio occasionally peered at us in the rearview mirror as he maneuvered through the absurdly dense pre-rush hour traffic. We arrived at the airport with forty minutes to spare.

  Sophia’s bodyguard handed us out of the sedan. A security officer approached, glanced at the celebrity license plate, nodded once politely and waited while we stood outside the car thanking Fabio.

  Once inside the terminal, we dashed to the gate, showed our boarding passes, and waited with our fellow passengers to be called.

  ‘Tell me about the magician’s challenge and why you steered the conversation away from it.”