A Peach Of A Murder
Livia J. Washburn

Excerpt

Donnie finished his cobbler and set the empty bowl on the table.

“Mighty good, Phyllis, mighty good,” he said, but then he gave a little shake of his head and put a hand on the table to steady himself.

“Donnie, are you all right?” Phyllis asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little dizzy. Must be the heat.” He lifted his water bottle and drank what was left. “I’ll be all right in a—”

But then he stopped abruptly, his eyes rolling up in their sockets. He lurched back a step, staggered into a half- turn, stiffened, and then pitched forward onto his face, toppling like a felled tree. Donnie hit the ground hard without any attempt to catch himself. Screams came from the crowd. Phyllis just stood there behind the table, shocked into motionlessness by the sudden collapse, but Mike’s emergency training took over and sent him hurrying to Donnie’s side. He rolled the old man onto his back and Phyllis recoiled in horror as she saw Donnie’s glassy eyes staring sightlessly up at the red, white, and blue canopy over the table.

In the middle of all the sudden commotion and chaos, she heard Carolyn exclaim as plain as day, “Oh, my God! Phyllis’s peach cobbler killed Donnie Boatwright!”