The Corpse Who Knew Too Much (A Food Blogger Mystery Book) by Debra Sennefelder ➱ Release Tour with Giveaway

 

The Corpse Who Knew Too Much

A Food Blogger Mystery Book 4

by Debra Sennefelder

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Food blogger Hope Early takes on a cold case that's heating up fast . . .

 

Building on her recipe for success with her food blog, Hope at Home, Hope is teaching her first blogging class at the local library in Jefferson, Connecticut. She’s also learning about podcasts, including a true-crime one called Search for the Missing, hosted by Hope's childhood friend, Devon Markham. Twenty years ago on Valentine's Day, right here in Jefferson, Devon's mom disappeared and was never found. Finally Devon has returned to solve the mystery of what happened to her mother—and she asks Hope to help.

The next day Hope discovers Devon's apartment has been ransacked. Her laptop with the research on her mother's cold case is missing, and Devon is nowhere to be found. When her friend's body is later discovered in a car wreck, Hope is convinced it's no accident. Clearly, Devon was too close to the truth, and the cold-blooded killer is still at large in Jefferson. Now it's up to Hope to find the guilty party—before the food blogger herself becomes the next subject of another true-crime podcast . . .

Includes Recipes from Hope’s Kitchen!

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Excerpt #1

“Good luck with your new story.” Hope turned toward the exit.

“It’s not new. In fact, it’s twenty years old. You were born and raised here, so you must know of the Joyce Markham cold case.”

Even though she was inside the warm library, a chill wiggled through Hope at the memory. She spun back around to face Norrie.

“When I applied to the Gazette, I was concerned about writing for a small-town newspaper because, well, not much happens in small towns. I was wrong. The murders and scandals that have occurred here rival those in any big city. And who knew Jefferson had a twenty-year-old missing persons cold case?” Norrie’s grin summed up how thrilled she was to use Joyce’s unsolved disappearance as another career steppingstone.

Hope recalled the unusually warm Valentine’s Day when word spread around dinnertime that Joyce was missing. 

“It shocked us all. Her husband and daughters left home in the morning, and when the girls returned home from school, the front door was open and Joyce was gone. Felice and Devon called their father, and when Joyce wasn’t home by dinnertime, they called the police. Why are you interested in her case? As you said, it’s been twenty years.”

Norrie arched a brow. “You don’t know?” 

Norrie had a smug look on her face, as if knowing something Hope didn’t was some sort of lifetime achievement. The last thing Hope wanted to do was play twenty questions with the reporter.

“What are you talking about?” Hope asked.

“Joyce’s daughter Devon has a podcast about unsolved cases of missing women. It’s called Search for the Missing. The case she’s doing now is her mother’s,” Norrie said.

Hope’s mouth fell open. That was the podcast Oliver had been listening to and the one Gilbert mentioned. Why hadn’t either one mentioned the host was Devon? Or that the case she was talking about was her mother’s? They’d both lived through the months of searching for Joyce and all the false sightings of her, raising hopes only to be disappointed yet again. 

“I had no idea.” 

“You should listen to it. Devon’s quite a good storyteller. Captivating. Anyway, with Valentine’s Day coming up marking the twentieth anniversary of Joyce’s disappearance and now the podcast, I’m going to write a story. I’ll look at the case with a fresh set of eyes. I want to get a telephone interview with Devon. I was thinking, you know her sister, Felice, right?”

Hope’s surprise at finding out Devon had a podcast vanished while her guard, like a force field, shot up. Norrie was asking for a favor.

Her reluctance to answer must have been written all over her face because Norrie

propped a hand on her hip, and she looked displeased. 

 “Come on, I helped you out last summer. Don’t you remember, I gave you a lead when you were sticking your nose into that whole mess with Lionel?”

Hope recalled the unsolicited information Norrie provided under the guise of wanting to be helpful. Here was proof Norrie did nothing without some expectation of reciprocation.

“So, I owe you one?”

Norrie shrugged. “Well, if you want to put it that way.” Her cell phone buzzed, and she lifted a finger to indicate she needed a moment. After pulling her phone out of her purse, she frowned as she read the text message. “I have to go. We’ll pick this up later.” She sprang forward, and in an instant, she was gone. Which was just the way Hope liked her. 

Excerpt #2

The awkwardness passed as quickly as it had descended upon them. Devon continued, not dwelling on a silly comment. She had bigger things to worry about.  “There are all sorts of theories of what happened to my mother. I’m certain she didn’t walk out on us. Someone took her. I intend to find out what happened to her twenty years ago.” 

“I don’t think anyone believed she left on her own.” Hope remembered her mother hadn’t believed Joyce walked out on her family. But there were rumors she’d fled with a boyfriend or was forced into the witness protection program. Both those scenarios seemed unlikely, given Joyce had been a well-respected member of the community. Then again, Hope was only a teenager at the time and wasn’t privy to information about Joyce’s personal life.

“How do you plan on finding out the truth?” Claire asked. “It was so long ago.” 

Devon’s baby-blue eyes hardened. “I’m going to turn this whole town upside down and shake as hard as I can until I find the person responsible for my mother’s disappearance.” A chirping noise came from her wrist, and she lifted her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her parka. She tapped her smartwatch. “I’d better get going or I’ll be late returning the van. It’s so good to see you both.” She hurried out of the shop.

Claire followed, and when the door closed, she swung around to face her sister. 

“Did you hear what she said? What she’s planning on doing?”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her podcast? How do you know about it?”

“I only found out about it this morning. I ran into Norrie Jennings, who also knows about the podcast.”

“Does she know Devon was planning on coming back to town?”

“I don’t think so. Norrie said she’s heard the podcast and wants to write a follow-up story about Joyce’s case in time for the anniversary. She didn’t mention anything about Devon being back in town.”

Claire walked back to the counter and lifted the tote bag. “I’m not going to lie; I have a bad feeling about all this.”

“Same here.” Hope stood and moved to the window. She looked out to Main Street. 

In the early morning light and the fresh coating of snow, the street looked charming. A quick glance and no one would ever suspect any evil acts occurring in the postcard-perfect New England town. Hope swallowed. She knew otherwise. 

She’d been caught up in a few murder investigations over the past year, which meant she’d been face-to-face with evil. Her guess was Joyce also faced such, but unlike Hope, she never got the chance to tell the story.

“Wait until Maretta finds out Devon is back to reopen her mother’s case. And of all

things, with a podcast.” Claire tsk-tsked. “Plus having Norrie write an article about it for the Gazette? Maretta is going to blow a gasket. You know how she feels about portraying Jefferson’s image of the ideal destination for antiquing and leaf-peeping.”

Hope winced. Her sister was right. The new mayor had been on the job since last summer and blamed Hope for the unfortunate murders that occurred recently in town. Why blame the murderer when you have a perfectly innocent food blogger to accuse?

Excerpt #3 

“Are we going to break in?” Drew came up beside Hope and gestured to the padlock on the doors.

“I don’t think so.” Not deterred, Hope stepped to her right and looked down at the side of the building. Determined to get a look inside, she plodded through knee-high snow to reach the window. The coldness of the snow seeped through her jeans, but she didn’t let it stop her.

On her tippy toes, she tried to get a look inside. Years’ worth of dirt and grime obstructed her view into the building.

“What do you see?”

“Not much. How hard is it to clean a window?”

She was able to see a shelving unit filled with paint cans, rollers, and other DIY supplies. A workbench stretched the length of the back of the garage and was covered with hand tools and discarded rags. In the center of the space was a collection of snow blowers, all different sizes, but what drew Hope’s curiosity was a drop cloth draped over something long.

“Let me look.” Drew nudged her out of the way so he could peer in the window. “A workshop. No wonder it’s locked.”

“Do you see the drop cloth? What’s it covering?”

“Dunno.” Drew pressed his nose against the glass. “You think it’s a skeleton?”

“I wonder how tall Joyce was.”

“What’s going on here?”

Hope jumped, again, at an unexpected voice. She turned and found Oliver standing at the front corner of the garage with a pile of firewood in his arms. Despite being in his late sixties, he was still strong enough to carry all that wood. Twenty years ago, he easily could have been strong enough to dispose of a body. 

Drew stepped back from the window. “Oh, hi, Oliver. We were looking for you.”

“You thought I locked myself in there?” Oliver asked.

Busted.

Except #4

She reached the vestibule and opened the door. Usually, the stillness of this part of the northwest hills was comforting, but tonight the darkness over Jefferson was eerily quiet.

She followed the cleared footpath back to her vehicle.

Looking for any sign of Joyce Markham in the wooded area.

Her imagination was taking over. Visions of volunteers combing the woods for Joyce’s body, dead or alive, played like a movie reel.

Was it possible Joyce had been alive but died from exposure out in the woods? Or was she murdered and her body dumped there? Or Joyce was abducted and taken out of state. Maybe she was living under an assumed name. Perhaps she went into the witness protection program.

A shrill interrupted the darkened silence. Hope’s hand clutched her chest until she realized it was her phone. The ringtone belonged to Corey. She wasn’t sure what his title was these days, but she knew what he was hired to do. His job was to connect Hope and the other bloggers in the agency with brands.

She fumbled for her phone. Her purse had an interior pocket that was the perfect size for her phone, but did she keep it there? No. Her fingers finally grasped the phone, and she tapped it on.

“Good evening, Corey. What’s up?” She’d learned a long time ago small talk was wasted

on the hyper New Yorker. 

“Just calling with an update.” His nasal voice seemed far away. “Yeah. . . yeah . . . extra soy sauce . . . Sorry, I’m picking up dinner on my way home. Tomorrow I’m having lunch with the people from Mama Mia Pasta. It’s looking good. Also, Frye-Lily is partnering with Allied Home Centers for an autumn campaign, and they’d like to bring you in. You’ll do a few DIY projects for your blog and their website.”

Hope unlocked her Explorer. Whatever Corey’s title was, he was doing a great job at raising her profile among companies. 

“I’d love to continue working with Frye-Lily..” 

She balanced the DIY projects on her blog by adding recipes to the post. When she wrote about painting the entry of her house, she also shared a recipe for one-bowl brownies. Because after a long day of home reno, you needed a treat.

 “Awesome! It’s a great way to get in front of Allied Home. They like working with bloggers.”

Hope squeezed her eyes shut as she smiled. Landing a sponsorship with Allied Home would be huge! She opened her eyes and forced herself to remain calm. One step at a time. 

“Call me after you meet with Mama Mia. And keep me updated on Frye-Lily.” She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and climbed into the SUV. 

There was silence on the other end. 

“Corey?” Then the sounds of Midtown traffic, horns, sirens, loud voices, reminded Hope of her years living in the city. She glanced around the empty lot. New York was still alive and vibrant, while Jefferson, like her, was getting ready to tuck in for the night.

“Sorry. . . lost you there for a moment. I’ll call you when I have news.”

Before Hope could say good night, the line went silent. Again. Corey had disconnected the call without so much as a goodbye. Nothing new there. 

Hope dropped the phone into the console and then started the vehicle. Warm air streamed from the vents, and she eased back into the heated seat.

While her body warmed up, she thought about Devon’s request. In high school, they studied and did their math homework at Hope’s house. They’d breeze through their assignments so they could spend the rest of the time doing other things. Fun things. Hope smiled. She could still see them in her bedroom. Thin as a rail, Devon had her waist-length hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she snapped bubblegum while they decided which songs to add to their mixtape. Hope cringed. What could she say? They were teenagers, and that’s what they did back then. Now, her classmate was all grown up and wanted her help to track down a potential killer.

Excerpt #5

<OT>Hope and Bigelow arrived at Staged with Style in record time. She usually didn’t speed, but under the circumstances, she made an exception. Even though Claire wasn’t in any danger, Hope’s protective instinct had kicked into high gear. Devon’s angry phone call last night, her apartment door left open, and the place appearing to have been searched. It was all unsettling, and Hope didn’t want Claire there by herself.

“Why did you bring him?” Claire pulled the shop’s door closed behind her. She’d been peering out the shop’s window when Hope arrived. 

“Protection.” Hope patted Bigelow’s back. He was small but mighty. Not too long ago, he’d leaped into action when Hope’s life was at risk, and she was grateful he was there at the time. He may not have been large or muscled, but he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

She stepped toward the door that opened to the vestibule, and the three of them ascended the staircase. Bigelow’s toenails tapped on the creaky old wooden steps, and when he reached the landing, he lifted his nose and sniffed.

“What’s he doing?” Claire asked.

“Smelling.”

“Like for a dead body?”

Hope shrugged. “Canines have a more acute sense of smell than we do. So who knows what he’s smelling now?”

“God, I hope Devon wasn’t murdered here. Do you have any idea how hard it is to rent or sell a property where there’s been a murder?”

Hope looked over her shoulder. “Actually, I do. Remember that house I was almost killed in? It’s still on the market. And I’d think we should be more concerned about Devon than the rental future of this property.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” 

 “Did you hear anything this morning?”

“No. Since she moved in, I’ve heard her moving around sometimes, but nothing today.”

The apartment door was ajar, and there was no sound coming from inside the tiny apartment. Hope stretched out her hand and pushed the door open wider. She immediately pulled her hand back. Fingerprints. While she hoped this was all a big misunderstanding, that Devon was safe somewhere, running an errand, she could be stepping into a crime scene. 

How the book came to be.

I'm delighted to share my new release with you today, THE CORPSE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH. Seeing this book release amazes me. I can't believe it's the fourth book in the Food Blogger Mystery series. It seems it was only yesterday when I sat down at the computer to write the series's first book. I had an idea, the main character, and the support of my critique partner.

Little did I know the idea I had for a mystery series revolving around a food blogger would lead me to fulfill my dream of becoming a published author. Born and raised in New York City, I fell in love with writing while in elementary school. I continued to write stories as a hobby. After I married and moved to Connecticut, I decided to try and write a book. The mystery I wrote was promptly rejected by agents, and I tucked the manuscript away for a few years. We made another move to a town where we still live today, and I found a writing community. I took writing classes, became involved in critique groups, and wrote several romantic suspense manuscripts. About this time, I also discovered blogging and started a food blog. I immediately fell in love with the medium. I loved cooking and baking and writing. It was a perfect combination for me. Soon, I was finding far more satisfaction in blogging than fiction writing. But after a few years, I missed writing stories. I missed creating characters, and I missed the writing community.

I decided to ease back into fiction writing, and I found a critique partner. We worked through several manuscripts. We both were writing romantic suspense. Then one day, I realized that I needed to decide whether I was a blogger or a writer. Juggling working, blogging, writing, and life, in general, was becoming too overwhelming. After some careful consideration, I closed my food blog and went all-in with writing. I also decided to dust off that old mystery manuscript I had in the drawer. I loved the main character, Hope Early, so I decided to keep her and several of the original characters for the new book, THE UNINVITED CORPSE. Hope was now a food blogger living back in her hometown. Writing the book felt right to me. It felt like where I should have been all along.

In 2016, I signed with an agent. The Tuesday after Thanksgiving that year, I was offered a three-book contract by Kensington Publishers. Since then, I've gone on to sell a second series, The Resale Boutique Mystery series.

The fourth book in the Food Blogger Mystery series is THE CORPSE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, and it was inspired by my interest in podcasts.

For the past year, I have really gotten into listening to them during the day. I usually have them playing when I'm doing chores around the house, such as laundry cleaning gardening. I'll also listen to podcasts while I'm out walking.

There are a whole bunch of podcasts on my phone, from writing to marketing to true crime.

True crime podcasts are very intriguing. My favorite ones draw me in from the music to the tone of the host's voice to the editing to create an atmosphere that pulls you in and keeps you listening.

When I was thinking of story ideas for THE CORPSE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, I knew I wanted the book to revolve around a cold case and a podcast. It took a little time, but I came up with a twenty-year-old missing person's case. I also came up with the idea of a podcast that was hosted by the missing woman's daughter. Some of my favorite scenes in the book include snippets from the podcast. Weaving those snippets into the book was a lot of fun, and I feel it adds a layer of foreboding to the story.

Debra Sennefelder, the author of the Food Blogger Mystery series and the Resale Boutique mystery series, is an avid reader who reads across a range of genres, but mystery fiction is her obsession. Her interest in people and relationships is channeled into her novels against a backdrop of crime and mystery. When she’s not reading, she enjoys cooking and baking and as a former food blogger, she is constantly taking photographs of her food. Yeah, she’s that person.

Born and raised in New York City, she now lives and writes in Connecticut with her family. She’s worked in pre-hospital care, retail and publishing. Her writing companion is her slightly spoiled Shih-Tzus, Connie.

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