Have Your Cake and Kill Him Too

Table of Contents

 

 

“Martin, a master of one-liners and witty repartee, mixes the zany lives of the Blackbird family with posh Main Line Philadelphia society and comes up with another winning mystery.”

—Library Journal
(starred review)

 
“Charming and funny.”
—Publishers Weekly

 
“Sassy, exciting, and impossible to put down.”

 
“Martin's fabulous offering is peppered with witty dialogue, oddball characters, and a clever plot that blends two separate mysteries into one delightful tale of murder and the unusual relationships between sisters.”
—Romantic Times

 
Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die

 
“Nora Blackbird has humor, haute couture, and sexual heat, and
Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die
has me hooked on the Blackbird sisters.”

—
Harley Jane Kozak, author of
Dating Dead Men
and
Dating Is Murder

 
“A laugh-out-loud comic mystery as outrageous as a pink chinchilla coat.”
—Booklist

“The right mix of humor . . . but like the best writers in this subgenre, Martin keeps the story grounded in reality.”

 
“A blend of fashion-forward romance and witty suspense. . . . Martin's wicked tongue-in-cheek satire will appeal to fans of Jennifer Crusie . . . and Janet Evanovich.”
—Publishers Weekly

 
“Wide-eyed sleuthing, sisterly antics, and humorous dialog will have readers panting for more.”
—Library Journal

 
“Vividly drawn and immensely entertaining ... an absolute delight.”
—Romantic Times

 
Some Like It Lethal

 
“What great deadly fun!”—Kasey Michaels

 
“Simultaneously clever and funny. A tasty mix of murder, family dynamics, blackmail, and humor.”

 
Dead Girls Don't Wear Diamonds

 
“A brash, flaming, and sassy amateur sleuth mystery . . . the perfect novel to take to the beach . . . light, breezy, and pure fun.”

 
“Will keep readers turning the pages . . . [a] delightful heroine.” —The Best Reviews

 
And more praise for Nancy Martin's “smart and sophisticated series.”*

 
“A thoroughly entertaining mystery that also provides some red-hot sexual tension.”

—
*
New York Times
bestselling author Jane Heller

 
“Rich, engaging, and funny . . . scandalous mystery, hot romance, and the delightful to-the-manor-born Blackbird sisters. You won't want it to end!”

—
Sarah Strohmeyer, author of
Bubbles All the Way

 
“Clever, good-humored, and sharply observed.”

 
“What scandal for high society, but what fun watching Nora figure it out.”
—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Other Books in the Blackbird Sisters Mystery Series

 
“Slay Belles” in the mystery anthology
Drop-Dead Blonde

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Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a New American Library edition.

 
First Signet Printing, March 2007

 
Copyright © Nancy Martin, 2006, 2007

eISBN : 978-0-451-21893-3

Excerpt from
A Crazy Little Thing Called Death
copyright © Nancy Martin, 2007 All rights reserved

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

 

 
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 
PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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I can't imagine writing a book without help. This time around, Veronica Henrick and Mary Anne Donnelly became my Philadelphia transportation experts. Hilde Terpeluk Kern is the wonderful reader who came up with the perfect name for Libby's baby. Various Sisters in Crime helped with the diet ideas. (Special shout-out to Kathleen George, who knew all about the chocolate-cake diet!) As always, Ramona Long, Kathy Sweeney, Sarah Martin, and Barbara Aikman provided fresh eyes along the way. And many readers have dropped me notes of encouragement. I so appreciate your kind words! Thanks, everyone!

My sister Emma blew into the country-club dining room and conned the waiter into bringing her a bloody New York strip. Then she planted her elbows on the pink tablecloth and laid down the conversational ground rules. She said, “I'll choke the first person who brings up carbohydrates as a topic of serious discussion.”

Which caused the fur-and-face-lift ladies to take their coffee cups and flee our table at the Daffodil Luncheon, leaving the three of us alone for a sisterly squabble.

“Oh, Em,” said Libby, who had called us together to mend fences. “You couldn't have worn a decent pair of shoes?”

Emma had obviously come from the barn, because her riding boots were caked with a spring-scented substance that she was gracious enough to disguise by lighting a cigarette—against club rules, of course. “At least I wore a brassiere. You, on the other hand, look like a Playboy bunny who spent the winter binging on Krispy Kremes.”

Libby sported a snug mohair sweater with a neckline that plunged down the ski slope of her bosom. The décolletage was edged in a perky white fur obviously intended to distract the eye from the few pounds of loveliness that had crept onto her figure in the last year.

“At least I didn't come with a Band-Aid on my nose,” said Libby.

“Let's not make a scene,” I said, having already decided not to mention Emma's dubious fashion statement, no doubt the result of some barnyard accident.

At the front of the room, local blond network affiliate news-reader Bebe McCarthy took the microphone and sent an electronic shriek bouncing around the room. As Bebe began her thanks-to-the-committee speech, Libby said, “You're right, Nora. Some of us must reserve our positive mental energy for more important issues.”

“Yes,” I said.

“It's not a diet, of course,” Libby explained for the third time. “It's a healthy lifestyle change. And you'll benefit, too. It's time to take off those few pounds you put on lately.”

Emma made a noise like a cat with a hair ball, and I sighed.

Libby ate the last crumb of slivered almond from her spinach salad with dainty precision. “I understand completely. Like you, I refuse to be made to feel inadequate as a woman, enslaved by current fads in body image or temporary ideals established by a punitive fashion industry that actively destroys a woman's confidence simply to sell their products. I'm perfectly happy with myself. Delighted, in fact. But a few changes once in a while make life interesting.”

Emma pushed back her plate, picked up her cigarette from where she'd left it balancing on the rim of her saucer and asked, “What's for dessert?”