Rockets' Dead Glare. Lynn Cahoon

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      As sunny South Cove, California, gears up for their annual Fourth of July celebrations, a local murder threatens to kill the fireworks . . .

      South Cove’s local businesses are up in arms after volunteer fire chief Barry Gleason threatens to shut down anyone who doesn’t comply with the fire code. But when Barry schedules a training burn in an old abandoned barn, he is the only one who doesn’t come out alive. Jill Gardner—owner of Coffee, Books, and More—smells murder in the ashes. She’ll have to work quickly to nab a killer with a short fuse—or else everyone’s holiday will end with a fizzle . . .

      Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Books by Lynn Cahoon

      The Tourist Trap Mysteries

      Killer Party

      Hospitality and Homicide

      Tea Cups and Carnage

      Murder on Wheels

      Killer Run

      Dressed to Kill

      If the Shoe Kills

      Mission to Murder

      Guidebook to Murder

      Rockets’ Dead Glare

      The Cat Latimer Mysteries

      Of Murder and Men

      Fatality by Firelight

      A Story to Kill

      The Farm-to-Fork Mysteries

      Who Moved My Goat Cheese?

      Rockets’ Dead Glare

      A Tourist Trap Novella

      Lynn Cahoon

      LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Copyright

      Lyrical Press books are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by Lynn Cahoon

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      First Electronic Edition: June 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0819-0

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0819-1

      Dedication

      To Esi, who listens to my crazy ideas and puts them into play.

      Chapter 1

      Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Truer words were never spoken, especially in small towns where big fish rule. I think a lot about power and influence during our monthly South Cove Business-to-Business meeting. To be completely honest, sometimes I think about the cheesecake sitting in the walk-in cooler in my office, but mostly I think about relationships and secrets and small-town politics. Like today.

      Bill Sullivan, our chairman and a city council member, had invited the volunteer South Cove fire chief to open up the meeting since there had been a few changes in policy approved by the council for the upcoming season. Unfortunately, Barry thought he’d been invited to lecture the group on the history of fire prevention, rather than just give a quick update of his program.

      I’m Jill Gardner, and as the business liaison to the council I was responsible for hosting and setting up the meetings. By my count, today’s group of business owners had gone through three rounds of coffee carafe refills and the cookie plates were totally empty. I shook my head when Sasha Smith, one of our baristas, asked me a nonverbal question about refills. We hadn’t gotten our supply order from Pies on the Fly yet, and if the meeting didn’t end soon, we’d be out of food to sell to actual paying customers.

      “Safety is our number one priority.” Barry Gleason stood in front of the shop owners gathered for the June meeting and pounded the table with his fist. The volunteer fire chief paused, and when he knew he had the crowd’s attention, he ran a beefy hand with a garnet ring from his college football glory days through his wavy, too long salt-and-pepper hair.

      Amy Newman, my BFF and the secretary for the meeting, leaned toward me and whispered, “Someone should tell him that hair style went away with the Bee Gees.”

      I tried to keep my lips from twitching, but from the glare I got from Mayor Baylor, I guess I had failed. I glanced down at the agenda. Once the fire chief relinquished his stage, the only other thing was Darla and the finishing touches for the Fourth of July street festival. Since the actual holiday was on a Saturday this year, we had a long weekend planned for South Cove visitors and tourists. Everyone would be open longer hours and Coffee, Books, and More would be erecting a tent annex out at the end of town near the bandstand and Diamond Lille’s. Which the owner, Lille, had expressed her dismay about several times. Lille and I had an agreement mostly: she didn’t come north and I didn’t go south. Except for festival time when the needs of the tourists superseded our boundaries.

      “I’ll be inspecting each and every business this week for fire code violations. If you’re not up to code, I’m going to close you down on June thirtieth until you are compliant.” Barry started handing out folders. “These are the new rules. You all might have gotten away with being lax on the fire code before, but now with the city council’s blessing, there’s a new sheriff in town, so to speak.”

      “That’s less than a week away,” I said. I opened the folder and cringed when I found what looked like a twenty-five-page single-spaced list of must-do’s. “It will take me that long to read and understand these regulations.”

      Barry shrugged. “Not my problem. You all didn’t seem to worry about fire safety when I didn’t have the power to make you change. Now you’re on my timeline.”

      “I’ve always believed in following the rules,” Josh Thomas, owner of Antiques by Thomas, said, jumping into the discussion. “You can come inspect my shop at any time. I’m certain I’ll pass.”

      “Thank you for your support.” Barry paused, looking for questions from the group who, like me, had their gaze on the enormous list of must-do’s. To fill the gap in the discussion, Mayor Baylor started to stand, but Bill Sullivan beat him to the front of the table.

      “Thank you, Barry, for that insightful update on the history of fire prevention in South Cove. Now, let’s get this meeting going. I know you all have a lot to do before the holiday next week. Darla, would you come up and give us the final directions on the Fourth of July festival?” Bill moved in front of Barry, who still hadn’t sat down.

      Barry