"Just some Ginkgo, Ginseng and Horny Goat Weed ... although the latter he said was for Prudence."

Fiona's eyes grew wide. "Aren't those herbs for impotence?"

Morgan shrugged "Well, that's what he wanted."

"No wonder Prudence was mad...although you'd think just being married to her would have caused the impotence."

Morgan burst out laughing. "No kidding. I had to question his sanity when he asked me for it. I thought maybe he had a girlfriend on the side."

Fiona shook her head trying to clear the unwanted images of Ed and Prudence Littlefield together.

"Well, I wouldn't let it ruin my day. You know how she is."

Morgan put her tea on the counter, then turned to her apothecary shelf and picked several herbs out of the slots. "I know, but she always seems to know how to push my buttons. Especially when she calls me a witch."

Fiona grimaced. "Right, well I wish we were witches. Then we could just conjure up some money and not be scrambling to pay the taxes on this shop and the house."

Morgan sat in a tall chair behind the counter and proceeded to measure dried herbs into a mortar.

"I know. I saw Eli Stark in town yesterday and he was pestering me about selling the shop again."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we'd sell over our dead bodies." Morgan picked up a pestle and started grinding away at the herbs.

Fiona smiled. Eli Stark had been after them for almost a year to sell the small piece of land their shop sat on. He had visions of buying it, along with some adjacent lots in order to develop the area into high end condos.

Even though their parents early deaths had left Fiona, Morgan and their two other sisters property rich but cash poor the four of them agreed they would never sell. Both the small shop and the stately ocean home they lived in had been in the family for generations and they didn't want their generation to be the one that lost them.

The only problem was, although they owned the properties outright, the taxes were astronomical and, on their meager earnings, they were all just scraping by to make ends meet.

All the more reason to get this necklace finished so I can get paid. Thankfully, the caffeine had finally cleared the cobwebs in her head and Fiona was ready to get to work. Staring down at the amethyst, a vision of the perfect shape to cut the stone appeared in her mind. She grabbed her tools and started shaping the stone.

Fiona and Morgan were both lost in their work. They worked silently, the only sounds in the little shop being the scrape of mortar on pestle and the hum of Fiona's gem grinding tool mixed with a few melodic tweets and chirps that floated in from the open window.

Fiona didn't know how long they were working like that when the bell over the shop door chimed again. She figured it must have been an hour or two judging by the fact that the few sips left in the bottom of her latte cup had grown cold.

She smiled, looking up from her work to greet their potential customer, but the smile froze on her face when she saw who it was.

Sheriff Overton stood in the door flanked by two police officers. A toothpick jutted out of the side of Overton's mouth and judging by the looks on all three of their faces, they weren't there to buy herbs or crystals.

Fiona could almost hear her heart beating in the silence as the men stood there, adjusting their eyes to the light and getting their bearings.

"Can we help you?" Morgan asked, stopping her work to wipe her hands on a towel.

Overton's head swiveled in her direction like a hawk spying a rabbit in a field.

"That's her." He nodded to the two uniformed men who approached Morgan hesitantly. Fiona recognized one of the men as Brody Hunter, whose older brother Morgan had dated all through high school. She saw Brody look questioningly at the Sheriff.

The other man stood a head taller than Brody. Fiona noticed his dark hair and broad shoulders but her assessment of him stopped there when she saw him pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

Her heart lurched at the look of panic on her sister's face as the men advanced toward her.

"Just what is this all about?" She demanded, standing up and taking a step toward the Sheriff.

There was no love lost between the Sheriff and Fiona. They'd had a few run-ins and she thought he was an egotistical bore and probably crooked too. He ignored her question focusing his attention on Morgan. The next words out of his mouth chilled Fiona to the core.

"Morgan Blackmoore ... you're under arrest for the murder of Prudence Littlefield."

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Ice Cream Murder.

Leighann Dobbs.

Chapter One.

Lexy Baker stared at the old commercial oven in the kitchen of the Buckridge Lodge, her foot tapping impatiently on the rustic tile floor.

Inside the oven, her madeleine cookies were baking-or at least she hoped they were. The oven had been acting persnickety all day, causing problems for her and Anna Burns, the caterer who'd hired Lexy to provide desserts for the event-a birthday party for multi-millionaire Regis Banks who was turning the ripe old age of one-hundred.

The Banks family had rented out the old lodge, a magnificent log structure located beside Buckridge Lake, just for the party. The lodge boasted huge fireplaces, antler chandeliers, log furniture and an abundance of ambience. Too bad the same attention to detail hadn't been paid in the kitchen which consisted of outdated appliances and dented pans.

Lexy cracked the oven open letting a puff of air tinged with the scent of almond escape into the room. The edges of the cookies were just starting to brown. Her mouth watered at the sight. She grabbed an oven mitt and slid the trays of golden shell-shaped cookies out, then used the decade's old warped spatula to shovel them onto a rack to cool.

She turned up the heat under the three pots she had on the stove. Each pot contained a different homemade sauce-fudge, peanut butter and caramel. She moved from one pot to the next, stirring vigorously so as not to burn the sauces. If she did, she wouldn't have time to make new ones and she needed them to spice up the homemade vanilla bean ice cream she was serving for dessert.

Her stomach tingled with nerves as she waited for the sauces to warm. Ice cream wasn't Lexy's forte, but it had been requested by the family because it was Regis' favorite. She'd made it last night by hand, then planned to spruce it up with the sauce and, finally, a sweet madeleine cookie sticking out of the top. The catering job for one of the richest families in the area was high-profile and could result in her getting other jobs-she didn't want to risk screwing up.

The stainless steel door to the kitchen opened and Anna bustled in.

"Lexy, is the ice cream almost ready? They're starting to get restless out there and Regis is about to make his speech." Anna's voice was laced with panic, setting Lexy's nerves humming.

"Yes, it's just about ready." Lexy turned off the stove and glanced at Anna. Her face was flushed. Blonde wisps of hair had escaped from the tight bun on the top of her head, flying out from her face at various angles. She looked almost frantic. Lexy realized this job was more important for Anna than it was for her-this could make or break Anna's business.

"Take it easy," Lexy soothed. "I just need to put the sauces on the ice cream and top it with the cookie. It will just take a second, then we can serve."

"I'll help." Anna grabbed the tub of ice cream from the stainless steel freezer and set it on the table. "Let's make sure to put the right sauces on. The family was very specific about who gets what sauce."

The girls worked side by side, scooping the ice cream into crystal dishes, ladling on the sauce, then sticking the cookie up out of the center. They set the dishes for the head table on a silver platter, careful to put them in the right order so each family member would be served their preferred sauce.

The other tables were getting a variety of ice creams and each guest could pick the flavor sauce they wanted. Lexy placed the pre-made label cards in front of each dessert so there would be no mistakes.

"Ready?" Anna raised her brows at Lexy.

Lexy nodded and the girls hefted the trays onto their shoulders and set off into the dining room to serve the ice cream.

The dining room hummed with conversation. Lexy did a quick check in the window of the kitchen door to make sure her shoulder-length brown hair was still secured in the pony tail at the nape of her neck. It wouldn't do to have stray hairs in the ice cream.

She straightened the bottom of her white catering jacket with her free hand as she surveyed the three-story great room. It was elegantly festive, the round guest tables covered in crisp white linen and set with crystal and bone china.

There were about fifty guests in all, seated six to a table. The long head table sat at the end of the room in front of an expanse of windows that towered up to the cathedral ceiling. Behind the windows, moonlight danced on the surface of Buckridge Lake. It was a full moon and the view was breathtaking. But Lexy didn't have time for gazing at the view.

She glanced at her watch, her stomach twisting when she realized they were ten minutes late in serving the ice cream. The event had been planned down to the minute with various family members making speeches and presentations at set times. The big finale was supposed to come after dessert when Regis Banks himself would address the guests, giving his thanks and making a much anticipated announcement.

Lexy noticed Regis' personal secretary, Cora, standing watch in the dark shadows of the corner of the room, a scowl aimed in Lexy's direction. Cora's mouth was pursed in a tight line, her dark eyes shooting daggers. Cora had planned the event with Anna and Lexy, stressing over and over that the timing was critical. But surely, a mere ten minutes wouldn't be that much of a problem?

"Better get a move on," Anna whispered, jerking her chin in Cora's direction.

Lexy nodded and took a deep breath before she started across the wide pine flooring to the head table.

As she passed the round guest tables, she noticed the busboys had cleared the dinner plates. The guests were sipping from their coffee cups and eyeing the desert trays expectantly as a photographer made the rounds taking candid shots.

Lexy started at one end of the head table. Making sure to take the ice cream dishes from the tray in the right order, she set them down in front of the guests one by one, taking care that her slightly shaking hands didn't spill any sauce on the tablecloths.

She could feel Cora's gaze boring into her back and she served as quickly as she could, then ran back to the kitchen for the next tray.

Two more trips back to the kitchen and Lexy and Anna had finished serving all the tables. At the last table, Lexy's grandmother, Mona Baker, or Nans as Lexy called her, was seated with her friends Ruth, Ida and Helen. Lexy didn't know how, but somehow Nans had finagled an invitation to the posh affair and the four ladies sat giggling like schoolgirls as they dipped spoons into their ice cream.

Lexy stood behind them attempting to blend into the background, like any good caterer would.

"These madeleines are divine, Lexy. You wouldn't happen to have any extra, would you?" Ruth half-turned in her seat to look at Lexy.

"I might have some," Lexy said. "I'll run to the kitchen after Regis' speech starts and bring some over."

"Shhh!" Ida put her hand on Ruth's arm. "He's standing up."

All eyes turned to the head table where Regis Banks pushed his way up from his chair.

"He's still pretty spry for one-hundred," Helen said.

"Yeah, he's a looker, too," Nans replied.

"And rich," Ida jabbed Helen in the ribs. "Maybe you should make a move on him."

"Oh, stop it!" Helen sputtered, her face turning red.

Lexy watched as Regis straightened his tie and cleared his throat. He did look pretty spry for his age. He stood with ease, not bent over like one might expect. Lexy noticed he didn't even use a cane. And he looked pretty good, too. Tall and thin with a full head of thick white hair.

Lexy had heard he was sharp as a tack and still took a daily interest in the business he'd built from scratch. She also heard he ruled with an iron fist and kept a miserly control over the family money. That's probably why he was a multimillionaire.

"I'd like to thank everyone for attending my birthday," Regis started and then waited as the room broke into applause. He had a strong and steady voice. Lexy found it hard to believe the guy was a century old.

"And I especially would like to thank my loving family for arranging this great party," Regis continued.

As Regis droned on, Lexy studied the head table. To Regis' left sat his oldest son, Winston. Lexy guessed that Winston was in his late sixties. He looked stuffy in a starched white collar with blue suit and tie. A redhead, still attractive even in her mid-sixties, sat stiffly next to him-probably his wife. From the way they were sitting, Lexy could tell they weren't getting along.

On the other side of the wife sat Regis' other son, Lawrence. From what Lexy had heard, Lawrence was the odd man out in the family. Where Regis and Winston were interested in business and money, Lawrence was more of a tree-hugger with no head for business. He preferred more leisurely activities and was known to be into conservation and ecology. Where Regis and Winston were stuffed shirts, Lawrence was laid back. This was evidenced by his tie, which resembled the print on a Hawaiian shirt.

Lawrence wasn't paying much attention to Regis. Instead he had his head bent toward a man in his early forties that sat next to him-a grandchild, Lexy figured. There were several people in their thirties and forties at the table and she assumed them to be Regis' grandchildren.

On the right side of Regis sat his daughter, Olivia. Olivia looked a lot younger than her brothers-maybe early to mid-fifties, although her youthful appearance might have had some help surgically. Lexy didn't know any of the Banks very well, but the rumors of Olivia having a penchant for expensive fashion must have been true judging by her dazzling couture dress, Kate Spade purse and Jimmy Choo stilettos.

On the other side of Olivia sat two couples in their forties-more grandchildren, Lexy supposed. Cora hovered unobtrusively in the background behind Regis.

Ruth caught Lexy's eye and looked pointedly at the madeleine. Regis was still droning on.

Now would be the perfect time to grab the extra madeleines from the kitchen, Lexy thought, heading in the direction of the stainless steel doors.

Lexy scanned the tables as she crossed the room to see if anyone needed a coffee refill. She was almost to the kitchen door when a strangled sound jerked her attention toward the head table.

Regis Banks let out a strangled cough, then loosened his shirt collar and continued in a raspy voice. "And now, I'd like to announce-"

He stopped abruptly, clawing at his neck. He made a sickening gurgling sound then slumped into his chair, his eyes rolling back in their sockets right before his head fell forward, face first, into his bowl of ice cream.

Chapter Two.

The room fell silent for a few seconds while everyone stared at Regis' still body.

Then it erupted in action.

Winston shot out of his seat, the chair clattering to the ground behind him.

"Dad!" He pulled Regis' head out of the bowl, pressing his fingers to the older man's neck.

"Daddy!" Olivia squealed from Regis' other side.

Lawrence stood up, worry etched on his face, and helped Winston lay Regis out on the floor.

Nans dug her cell phone out of her purse and called nine-one-one while they performed CPR.