Nobody does it like Daheim -- the USA Today bestselling "Reigning Queen of the Cozies" (Portland Oregonian) whose delightfully zany Bed-and-Breakfast mysteries set the genre's gold standard. Now get ready to cruise along with the incomparable Judith and Renie as a well-earned vacation is beached by mystery, mayhem, and hilarious homicide.

Dead Man Docking

Who in her right mind would turn down a free cruise to the idyllic isles of the South Pacific aboard an ultra-luxurious luxury liner? Certainly not Judith McMonigle Flynn -- which is why she and her closer-than-a-sibling cousin Renie Jones are leaving behind the stress of Hillside Manor B&B and hightailing it down to the San Francisco Bay to board the magnificent San Rafael, the pride of the Cruz Cruises fleet. The cousins sail into the pre-launch party on a wave of happy enthusiasm ... which, unfortunately, is about as far out to sea as they will get.

The problem is the piano -- or rather, the corpse stuffed in the piano: the body of their awol host, Cruz Cruises CEO Magglio Cruz. So the boat trip is postponed, leaving Judith and Renie footloose in Frisco -- except for the fact that they're both murder suspects -- and free to gad about with the other marooned, disappointed landlubbers, including one who is a homicidal loose cannon.

Among the almost-shipmates, the cousins are inevitably drawn to Rick and Rhoda St. George -- a picture-perfect team of glamorous, martini-quaffing, would-be crime-solvers. And since no one has anything better to do, they all decide to work together to solve the crime.

When other stranded San Rafael-ites inexplicably begin turning up dead all over the City by the Bay, Judith, Renie, and the St. Georges realize that if they're not careful, they, too, may end up leaving not only their hearts in San Francisco but the rest of their mortal remains as well!

Dead Man Docking

A Bed-and-Breakfast MysteryBy Mary Daheim

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Copyright ©2005 Mary Daheim
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0060566485

Chapter One

Judith McMonigle Flynn winced, flinched, and grimaced asshe held the phone as far as possible from her ear. CousinRenie was screaming obscenities at the other end and throwingin an occasional death threat. Unable to listen any longer, Judithsevered the connection.

A minute later, she was swallowing two aspirin when thephone rang again. Reluctantly, Judith answered.

"What happened?" Renie asked in a more normal voice. "Wegot cut off."

"I hung up," Judith replied. "Your ranting gave me aheadache."

"You have a headache?" Renie shot back, her words climbingseveral decibels. "How about me? I've never been fired before inmy life."

"Cruz Cruises didn't exactly fire you," Judith pointed out. "Moving their corporate offices to San Francisco means you can'thave your usual hands-on control of their design work.You'vestill got plenty of clients. And," she warned, "if you start yellingagain I'll hang up again."

Renie, known to the professional world as Serena Jones ofCaJones Graphic Design, snarled into the phone. "Okay, okay.But they were a big source of my income with all those cruisemagazines and hefty brochures and other promos that requireartwork. I'm calling Bill's brother Bub and telling him to sue thepants off of Cruz Cruises. It won't cost me a dime, because Bub'ssuch a good guy when it comes to family. If Magglio Cruz lookshim up in Martindale-Gobble or whatever the ABA referencebook is called, he'll see Bub has really impressive credentials."

Judith was aware that Bub Jones -- whose real name wasMillard -- had had a very successful career as the senior partnerin a large local law firm. Bub was also a man of integrity, despitehis one eccentricity, which was wearing wigs to cover his baldness.Bub owned an office wig, a golf wig, a party wig, a trialwig, and a picnic wig.At home, he wore a baseball cap Renie hadgiven him as a Christmas present many years earlier. The capbore the words WISH YOU WERE HAIR.

"Good luck," Judith said to Renie.

Setting the phone down on the kitchen counter, Judith gazedout through the window above the sink. It was raining, typicalPacific Northwest March weather. It had been raining since Novemberwith only an occasional glimpse of sun and one brief Januarysnowfall to break the monotony. Even a native like Judithyearned for a clear day.

Her dark eyes roamed to the reservation book she kept nextto the computer. Only two of Hillside Manor B&B's six roomswould be occupied on this Wednesday night. There were threereservations for Thursday, but all of the rooms were booked through the weekend, thanks to St. Patrick's Day falling on Monday.The rest of next week looked thin. Maybe she could taketime out to get her hair dyed.

Joe Flynn wandered into the kitchen, seeking a coffee refill.

Judith ran her fingers though her silver-streaked tresses. "I'mthinking about having some blond highlights put in at ChezSteve's Salon.Would you like that?"

"As opposed to this last dye job that makes you look like askunk?" Joe nodded. "Yes, you'd look terrific with a touch ofshimmering gold." He kissed her forehead. "What gave you thatidea?"

"It worked wonders for Kristin," she said, referring to theirdaughter-in-law, who had somehow resolved a personal crisis theprevious June by changing her hair color. "Maybe," Judith wenton, "it'll pep me up. I'm running on fumes these days."

Judith had started to turn gray in her late teens, just as hermother had done. She'd dyed her hair for years, but after her firsthusband, Dan McMonigle, died, she'd let the black grow out,and had been silver-haired since her forties.Years passed beforeRenie finally convinced Judith that she'd look much better withat least some of her original color. Never one to make changeseasily, Judith allowed almost another decade to pass before sheheeded her cousin's advice. But now she was ready for an evenmore drastic transformation.

"Why don't you lighten up all your hair?" Joe suggested."Maybe go brunette, close to your natural color."

Judith knew what Joe really meant. He was right -- gold andraven hair might look harsh in middle age. Not wanting to giveherself the chance to change her mind, Judith dialed the salon'snumber and made an appointment for nine o'clock the followingTuesday.

As the days passed by -- still raining, and with occasional gusty winds -- Judith began to get excited about her new look.Afew more reservations trickled in. She kept busy, and it was Saturdayafternoon before she realized she hadn't heard fromRenie.They usually spoke to each other at least once a day.Theywere both only children, and had grown up more like sistersthan cousins.

Just before preparing the appetizers for the guests' socialhour, Judith dialed Renie's number. The voice that answered onthe other end was almost unrecognizable.

"Is that you, coz?" she asked, knowing it couldn't be Bill sincehe hated the telephone as much as Judith's mother did.

"I'm pouting," Renie replied. "I've been pouting sinceWednesday."

"You can really pout," Judith said, "but you usually don't do itfor more than a day.What's wrong now?"

"The same thing that was wrong when I last talked to you,"Renie retorted. "That damned cruise line. I haven't heard backsince I threatened them with Bub."

"It's only been two full working days," Judith pointed out."They have to check with their Suits in response to your Suit."

"My Wig, you mean," Renie corrected. "I always refer to Bubas my Wig, not my Suit."

Continues...

Excerpted from Dead Man Dockingby Mary Daheim Copyright ©2005 by Mary Daheim. Excerpted by permission.
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