A mouth-watering home run of a beach read where a newly
widowed woman finds second chances through a funeral catering business and the
magic of Chicago baseball.
Last Bite
by Amy S. Peele
Genre: Cozy Mystery
A mouth-watering home
run of a beach read, this lighthearted romantic comedy featuring a newly
widowed fortysomething takes the reader on a joyful romp through-out some of
Chicago’s finest eateries—with a dash of Cubs baseball on the side.
"Last Bite is a deliciously layered novel that mixes
humor, heart, and mystery in equal measure." —Chicago Book Review
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The
Cubs Boys approached her and offered their condolences one by one, giving her
the big bear hugs she had become accustomed to from Vinnie and his buddies.
They all smelled like sausage and beer. Clearly, they had stopped at some local
tavern beforehand, as was the custom, Vinnie had shared with her, when his
buddies attended funerals.
Angie continued to greet each well-meaning guest, some
offering their deepest condolences; others she needed to console.
A handsome man in a dark blue tailored suit approached
her. He put his hand out and she reciprocated, and he gently cupped both
Angie’s hands in his large hands. “Hello, Angie, you may not remember me; we
only met briefly a few times. I went to high school with Vinnie. We lost touch
and then reconnected years ago. He and I would ditch classes and go to the
afternoon Cubs games. My name is Ralph Conti.” His soft smile revealed perfect
white teeth, dimples, and kindness.
Angie felt his soft hands and glanced down at his
manicured nails, which looked familiar, and no wedding band. She inhaled deeply
and detected a hint of the perfume from the bathroom. “So nice to see you,
Ralph. Thank you for coming. I believe you’re the one who gave Vinnie the Cubs
World Series ring.”
“Indeed, I did. It was the least I could do. Vinnie
was a very generous business partner; we collaborated on many city projects. He
spoke so highly of you. The picture he showed me didn’t do you justice; you’re
a very elegant and beautiful woman. You reminded me of my own wife who I lost
to cancer two years ago.
I’m
so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is.”
Angie gazed into his rich brown eyes and let out an
audible sigh. He smiled at her. “I’m sorry for your loss too, Ralph.”
“Here’s my card. When things slow down, please do call
me. We can meet for a cup of coffee or lunch and share Vinnie stories.”
She
took his card and put it in her pocketbook. “Thanks, Ralph. I’d like that.”
Angie noticed that Mario was glaring at her and Ralph from across the room.
After Ralph took his leave and walked toward the door,
Angie watched to see if a woman followed, but saw no one.
The crowd continued to thin until it was just Connie,
Gina, Kim, and Louie. Angie collapsed in the high-back chair, took her sensible
pumps off, and put her feet on the ottoman. “I can’t think, everything is
happening so fast. This is the weirdest funeral I’ve ever been at.”
“I must say it ranks right up there for me too,” Louie
commented.
Gina handed Angie a glass of water. “Here you go, Aunt
Angie. You need to remember to drink a lot of water; these types of events can
dehydrate the best of us.”
Kim set a pitcher of water on the table next to her.
“Here’s some more when you need it.”
“You’re so thoughtful, Kim, such a help,” Angie
remarked.
“I’m going to go finish cleaning up. Let me know if
you need anything else.” Kim walked toward the kitchen.
“What a nice friend you have, Gina,” Angie commented.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without her,” Gina
shared. Angie looked around to confirm it was just her, Gina, and Connie, who
was sitting in the companion high-back chair next to Angie. “You are not going
to believe what happened to me in the bathroom earlier.” Angie explained the
brief sex interlude, and all three of them laughed.
“At least someone’s getting some,” Connie, who had
been single a long time, declared.
“I don’t know who the woman was, but the man was
Ralph, that fancy pants fella.”
“Sex at a funeral parlor—ew.” Gina winced. “Who does
that?”
Connie smiled. “You’d be surprised. I noticed that guy
right away. Looked like he stepped out of GQ. That is one yummy-looking fella;
if I were younger, thinner, and more flexible,that guy would be mine.”
“Mom!” Gina yelped. They all laughed.
“When you’re ready, Angie, we’ll head over to Murphy’s
Bleachers for a little reception, then you can go home.”
Angie just nodded. “Murphy’s. I don’t have much gas
left in my tank; every bone in my forty-five-year-old body is aching,” she said
with a sigh. “Hmm, I guess I can go for a little while.” Another long sigh.
Just as they were ready to leave, Louie pulled Angie
aside and handed her an envelope. “Could you give me a call tomorrow? Two of
your three credit cards were denied, and we’ll need to settle your account
before the end of the week for the balance.” Angie raised her index and middle
fingers to her temples and rubbed them, wondering, Where did all our money
go? Vinnie said we were golden.
Amy S Peele was born and raised in the Chicago area, and now
lives in Marin County in California. Having spent thirty five years working in
the field of organ transplantation, she brings a fresh, knowledgable, and
humorous new voice into the world of mystery novels.
In addition to killing people in her murder mysteries, she
enjoys meditating, teaching yoga, swimming, and pursuing her spirituality by
studying the teachings of Deepak Chopra. Amy invites you to her website
www.amyspeele.com to learn more about her.
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