So here it is: our first foray into writing a cozy mystery based on our liquor of the month. We decided to take a "telephone" approach to the story - I wrote the first section and Dave brought it home. There is a clever allusion to our next liquor because Dave is a goddamned genius.
Cassius C. Remengton had a problem.
And everyone in the town of Sweetberry Grove knew that when a problem arose, Anise Starr was the detective who could crack the case.
"Mr. Remengton," Anise Starr cooed, straightening the leather swivel chair behind her massive oak desk. She rested her elbows on the ink blotter, steepling her fingers, and narrowing her eyes.
"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Detective Starr," Cassius said. "As you know, I have been courting Brandy Alexander for several months now."
"A lovely girl."
"Indeed. For her birthday, I bought her a bottle of beautifully-hued liqueur. Alas, I have discovered that the spirit lacks taste, depth, and mixability. Brandy is a lady of refined tastes, and I fear that she will dismiss my token of love." Cassius C. Remengton slid a decanter of deep purple liquid toward Detective Starr. She removed the crystal stopper and inhaled deeply.
"Why don't you take a sip, Miss Starr?" Remengton suggested.
"Why, Mr. Remengton. I'd be delighted," replied Anise too quickly, hoping Remengton didn't notice the slight quaver in her voice. "Did you pick this up from Mr. Collins's specialty liquor store on Main Street?"
"No, Tom doesn't carry anything quite special enough for this particular occasion. I created this little blend myself. You see, I plan to drink this with Brandy on our wedding night, to celebrate the beginning of our life together. I'd like you to try it first, though, to make sure it's...palatable."
"Niecy," Anise thought to herself, "you've really gotten yourself in over your head this time!" The liquor was a lovely color, smelled sweet and fruity, and had a hint of - what was that? - nuttiness.
Thoughts raced through Niecy's head as Remengton poured them both small snifters of the dark, almost syrupy liquid. Everyone in town knew his real estate empire was faltering and he was badly in need of money - heck, he'd even fired his maid and only had his cook and groundskeeper come in twice a week! The match with Brandy, the homely older daughter of the wealthy founding family of Sweetberry Grove had always seemed odd, but everyone's talk had just seemed like gossip. "Love springs out of the most mysterious places," Brandy had told the crowd at the dinner last weekend.
But now, as she raised the glass to her lips, Anise's hand trembled.
Was Remengton suspicious of her having asked too many questions? Had he noticed her hesitation earlier?
Were those almonds and cherries she smelled, buried in the ripe taste of currants? Or was it...gulp...cyanide!?
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