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If you’ve been visiting our site lately, you know that we’re starting a monthly Culinary Mini-Mystery Contest (just scroll down to yesterday’s post for all the details).

To kick off the first month of the contest we’re going to make it easier for writers (like you, maybe) to win the contest. All you have to do this month is finish the Culinary Mini-Mystery we’ve started for you here. Try to do so in 2,000 words or less. The deadline for finishing it is June 25, 2007.

Come on.

Give it a try.

You can do this!

Remember - all you need to do is finish the story we’ve already started.

Here is it:

IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
A Three Angels Gourmet Co. Culinary Mini-Mystery

At 7:30 this morning I pulled a batch of hot apple-cinnamon scones from the oven and set them on top of the stove so I could start a pot of coffee. I scooped Sumatra beans into the grinder and pushed the “on” button.

For some reason our dog, Sadie, always barks at the noise of the coffee grinder, which isn’t really a bad thing because her barking wakes up my husband, Brad. Sadie’s so much better than any old alarm clock.

Brad stumbled into the kitchen, still in his bathrobe. “Can’t you just buy ground coffee,” he asked with a yawn, “so we don’t have to wake up every morning to a barking dog?”

I scooped the now powdery coffee beans into the filter, poured water into the coffee machine and switched it on. “Nope,” I told him. “But we could trade Sadie in for a rooster.”

Sadie’s ears shot up and she gave me a puzzled look at the mention of her name, while Brad frowned and scratched his head. He sat down at the kitchen table. I guess it was too early for him to appreciate my comment about the rooster.

I lifted a hot rich scone from the pan, slid it onto a plate and set it in front of him. He picked up the plate and inhaled deeply. “Ah…,” he said, then he buttered the scone.

After a few minutes I shoved a cup of coffee at him then sat down beside him. “Guess what I have to do today?” I asked.

Brad took a sip of coffee and shrugged.

“Make a brochure for Three Angels. Can you believe Delphine and Daisy stuck me with this job? How am I supposed to do that? I have no idea what should be included in a brochure. I thought I was just supposed to develop the recipes.”

Brad didn’t offer much sympathy. He knew that not long ago when my two best friends, Daisy Benson, Delphine Gray, and I started the Three Angels Gourmet Co. the plan was for me to be the one to develop the recipes, while Daisy would make the sales calls, and Delphine would handle the bookkeeping. A co-packager would blend and package our “heavenly gourmet mixes” so we would ship them out to gourmet food stores, gift shops, and gift basket companies across the country.

So far, that’s all worked out as planned.

Well…we’re still trying to get store customers across the entire country. That just takes time.

But there are so many other little chores to do (on a DAILY basis) to keep the business running. And since Daisy and Delphine both have full time jobs, guess who gets to do most of these little chores for Three Angels?

Yep. You guessed it. Yours truly, Ireland Reynolds. And, somehow, these innocent little chores usually turn into BIG ordeals that get me into trouble.

But surely just creating a brochure can’t do that. Can it?

Brad finished his coffee and scone and got up from the table just as the phone rang. I let the answer machine get it so I could spend some time trying to figure out what to do about the brochure while Brad got ready for work. He’s an art professor at our local community college here in Seven Cedars, Florida, so it didn’t surprise me that he had no idea how I should go about creating the text for a sales brochure.

But what was I gonna do now?

Should I call an advertising agency to see if they’ll do it for me and find out what it will cost? Or should I do some research on my own and figure out how to do this myself?

I considered both options for a few minutes while I savored another cup of coffee.

But I just couldn’t make a decision.

As soon as Brad left for work, and I’d drained my coffee cup for the third time, I still hadn’t figured out what to do about the brochure, so I clicked on the answering machine.

“You have one new message,” the machine announced. “Message one…”

A deep raspy male voice (one I didn’t recognize) said, “Uh…this message is for Ireland Reynolds…” then the guy on the other end of the line suddenly had a coughing fit and couldn’t continue.

“Who is this?” I wondered out loud.

Must be a heavy smoker. And he sure doesn’t sound like he’s from Seven Cedars.

He finally stopped hacking and coughing long enough to go on. “Uh…a friend of a friend, of a friend of Daisy Benson’s says you need help with a bo-sure.”

He stretched out the word, bo-sure, like it was French or something, although I don’t know French, so I could be wrong about that.

BO-sure? What’s he talking about?

Then it dawned on me.

He means a brochure.

“Yes. I need help with a BO-sure,” I said mockingly to the answering machine.

I heard the guy sniff a few times, then he said, “I got connections…if you know what I mean. Gimme a call. I can hook you up with a guy to do this job.”

He left a phone number then hung up without even leaving his name.

I quickly punched in the speed-dial to Daisy’s cell phone.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” she answered.

“Dais…just who did you give my number to? And why did you tell this person I need help with our brochure?”

Daisy yawned. “Ireland, is that you? What are you talking about?”

“I just listened to my answering machine and there was a message from a guy with an accent like ‘My Cousin Vinnie.’ He said he got my number from a friend of a friend of a friend of Daisy Benson’s.”

“Uh-oh,” Daisy said quietly.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Okay,” she said finally, “so I MAY have mentioned the brochure thing last night and given your number to a friend.”

Ah-ha! Finally the truth comes out.

“Who was this friend?”

“He wasn’t actually a long time friend,” said Daisy.

“Go on,” I told her.

“His name is Joey. I met him last night at the car club meeting. He said he could probably find someone to hook us up with to help with the brochure.”

There was that phrase again – hook up.

I’d seen Oprah make “hook ups” for lots of people on her show.

But something told me this guy’s hook ups were nothing like Oprah’s.

When I didn’t say anything Daisy suggested, “Well, why don’t you just call the guy, Ireland? What have we got to lose?”

What have we got to lose? Oh…probably just everything.

Daisy’s words still echoed in my head later that day as I traveled along the highway from Seven Cedars to Pensacola with Delphine seated next to me in the passenger side of my Woodland Green (my favorite color) Subaru Forrester. She had the day off from work at her family's spa and swimming pool store and I'd managed to talk her into driving over to Pensacola with me this morning since Daisy had to make sales calls this for Swenson's Pharmaceutical (her regular J-O-B).

Delphine and I were on our way to meet some strange sounding man who promised to hook us up with someone who could write a sales brochure for our new business, the Three Angels Gourmet Co.

“So, what did this guy say exactly when you called him back and agreed to meet with him?” asked Delphine.

It was a gorgeous day. The car windows were open halfway, so Delphine’s short hair was ruffled by the wind. Mine was stuffed under a baseball cap, as usual. I’d shake it out once we arrived at the mystery man’s office.

I took my eyes off the road for a second and glanced at Delphine. “He just said to meet him at his office at this address.” I shoved a sheet of paper at her.

Delphine looked at the address on the paper. “This address is on the waterfront,” she said. “Are you sure this guy is in the advertising business? It’s more likely he runs a fish market.”

I snatched the paper back from her. “I’m not sure about anything,” I said. “Remember….I got this contact from ‘a friend of a friend of a friend’ of Daisy’s.”

Delphine smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yeah…I forgot.”

After a few minutes I turned off the highway, following the route I’d downloaded from MapQuest before I left home. We were headed directly to the waterfront. Fishing boats were anchored along the dock. And the only buildings on the street looked like fish markets.

(to be continued - by YOU)