By Delia Rosen
Murder’s at the menu during this savory debut. Gwen (nee Katz) Silver heard the brisket at her uncle’s Jewish deli, Murray the Pastrami Swami—the just one of its style in Nashville, Tennessee—was “to die for.” yet she didn’t notice that intended actually… while Gwen learns she’s inherited Murray’s, the local New Yorker leaves her chaotic profession and messy divorce at the back of to begin over in Nashville. however the enterprise turns out doomed from the beginning. Murray’s taken his recipes and mystery record of foodstuff providers to the grave with him, and ruthless actual property developer Royce Sinclair will cease at not anything to aim and sandwich Murray’s into his already overstuffed portfolio. Then, on Kosher Karaoke evening, longtime consumer Buster Sergeant bites into his brisket…and bites the dirt. The coroner says nutrients poisoning, yet Gwen’s no longer confident. Now, with assistance from hunky police detective Beau McClintock, “Nashville Katz”—as Gwen is instantly nicknamed—will locate herself including “private investigator” to her resume—and a brand new like to her existence.
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Extra resources for A Brisket, A Casket: A Deadly Deli Mystery
I broke in before Mount Thom could rumble again. “It isn’t as if a crime was committed—” “No one’s suggesting that,” McClintock interrupted. ” He shot me a pointed look. ” “I didn’t mean to be difficult…” “Once again, Ms. Katz, I’m here on police work. It’s unfortunate if that puts you out. But a man has died. ” McClintock nodded so faintly it seemed an inconvenience. “It’s important that no cooked or uncooked food leave the kitchen. The same goes for leftovers. ” I opened my mouth, closed it.
It reminded me too much of my uncle…as did the cover of an old Loretta Lynn LP beside my photo, though in a different way. Titled “Your Squaw Is on the Warpath,” it showed Loretta wearing a teensy Indian mini-dress with beaded tassels hanging over her thighs. The personalized autograph written across those same shapely bare thighs read, “What you thinkin’ about, Murray? ” As if she’d needed to ask. It was now five minutes past midnight. At around eleven-thirty, the last of the police officers and evidence techs had left the restaurant below, parading off with Ziploc bags full of table scraps and armloads of perishables from our freezers and refrigerators.
I tried to recall where I’d left off. “The food samples,” Caz prompted. ” I ate some cereal. “Except it wasn’t me who found out. J. ” Cazzie nodded. ” “Looks aren’t the half of it, but let’s not go there right now,” I said meaningfully. J. when he took her statement. He mentioned a case in Lexington, Kentucky. This was just last month…a restaurant customer died from the food. The poor guy ordered the Harvest Chicken, which I guess is a chicken, herb and vegetable platter. ” “Very funny, Caz. The fact is there was crabmeat in that Caribbean Reef dish.