Dark Tort (Culinary Mystery Series #13) [NOOK Book]

Overview

Caterer Goldy Schulz's lucrative new gig, preparing breakfasts and conference room snacks for a local law firm, is time-consuming, but she's enjoying it . . . until the night she arrives to find Dusty, the firm's paralegal, dead. The deceased also happened to be Goldy's friend and neighbor, and now Dusty's grieving mother is begging Goldy to find out who murdered her daughter.

Just because the police are on the case doesn't mean Goldy can't do a little snooping herself. While ...

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Dark Tort (Culinary Mystery Series #13)

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Overview

Caterer Goldy Schulz's lucrative new gig, preparing breakfasts and conference room snacks for a local law firm, is time-consuming, but she's enjoying it . . . until the night she arrives to find Dusty, the firm's paralegal, dead. The deceased also happened to be Goldy's friend and neighbor, and now Dusty's grieving mother is begging Goldy to find out who murdered her daughter.

Just because the police are on the case doesn't mean Goldy can't do a little snooping herself. While catering a party at the home of one of the firm's lawyers, she just happens to overhear an incriminating conversation. She also discovers a few tasty clues in the kitchen. Before long, Goldy finds herself knee-deep in suspects. But one of them is incredibly dangerous . . . and very liable to cook Goldy's goose.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Goldy Schulz loves her new gig: Catering breakfasts and conference room snacks for ravenous local lawyers is a cinch. Everything in the coffee-and-donuts patrol is running smoothly until one evening, when Goldy trips over a freshly dead paralegal. Never hesitant to mix sleuthing with food service, she begins a stealthy investigation into the unexplained homicide.
Publishers Weekly
Rosenblat is a performer of many tempos. When caterer Goldy Schulz trips over a corpse and searches for help, Rosenblat speaks at a heart-pounding pace to draw the listener right into the narrative. After the body is taken care of and the flying flour has settled, Rosenblat slows to chart Goldy's methodical search for the killer. But Rosenblat saves smoother tones for the cooking scenes between Goldy and her police detective husband, Tom. Eating is more enjoyable for Goldy than cooking, so Rosenblat lays on her silkiest tones for the dinner scenes between the couple and their son. It's probably best not to listen to this audio on an empty stomach. Rosenblat has her hands full as she deftly and singlehandedly performs a soap-opera sized cast with aplomb. There are recipes at the end of the last CD, and there are lots of good food preparation tips along the way, so listeners will want to take notes. Simultaneous release with the Morrow hardcover (Reviews, Mar. 6). (May) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Goldy Schulz must be the unluckiest caterer in the world. Most caterers just serve food; Goldy trips, falls, and finds lots of dead bodies. This time, after sending ingredients flying all over her clients' law offices, she notices the body of her protegee, Dusty Routt. Poor, hardworking Dusty had been determined to make a place for herself in a world that kept slapping her back. Had Dusty seen something in the office she shouldn't have? Dusty's mother asks Goldy to investigate, with suspects including lawyers (and their wives), the office staff, and an old boyfriend. Meant to be a commentary on the social divide between rich and poor, Dark Tort suffers from verbosity and drifting focus. From the long-winded account of Goldy's initial panic to the tedious and complicated plot wrap-up, this is a book in search of an editor. Fortunately, while not a great mystery, this is still a generally amusing novel. Barbara Rosenblat, who has read other titles in the series, does her usual superb job. Recommended with reservations for most collections.-I. Pour-El, Des Moines Area Community Coll., Boone, IA Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Watch your step. Goldy Bear Schultz, of Aspen Meadows catering (Double Shot, 2004, etc.), has tripped over a body at the law office of one of her best clients. Dusty Routt, an ambitious young woman who had a tough life until her Uncle Richard, a partner at the H&J law firm, took her under his wing, has been strangled. Now her distraught mother begs Goldy to find Dusty's killer. It could have been a robbery gone wrong, but as Goldy picks up gossip from her network of friends and clients, she begins to see motives for murder. Dusty had been helping settle the estate of Charlie Baker, a chef whose paintings of food have made him rich. When a cache of his work turns up in Dusty's house with two very different inventory lists attached, Goldy suspects that Charlie, a terminal cancer patient, did not die from an accidental fall. Dusty's mysterious lover, a suspicious bishop, lawyers with shaky marriages and filthy lucre all provide additional possibilities. With help from her policeman husband Tom, her able assistant Julian, her son Arch and her wealthy pal Marla, Goldy solves the crimes, saves herself from being next on the murderer's menu and whips up more of her trademark scrumptious meals. Goldy and her coterie always provide some enjoyable moments, although the mind-boggling denouement may send you to the kitchen to try the 11 appended recipes.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061807565
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 10/13/2009
  • Series: Culinary Mystery Series , #13
  • Sold by: HARPERCOLLINS
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 464
  • Sales rank: 31,880
  • File size: 942 KB

Meet the Author

Diane Mott Davidson

Diane Mott Davidson is the author of sixteen bestselling novels. She divides her time between Colorado and Florida.

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Read an Excerpt

Dark Tort

A Novel of Suspense
By Diane Davidson

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Copyright ©2006 Diane Davidson
All right reserved.

ISBN: 006111992X

Chapter One

I tripped over the body of my friend Dusty Routt at half past ten on the night of October 19.

At first I thought it was a joke. Loaded down with bread-making supplies, I had just pushed through the heavy wooden door of Hanrahan & Jule, the boutique law firm in Aspen Meadow where I'd been catering breakfasts for several months. My foot caught and I stumbled forward. I thought, Those H&J clowns are up to something. Again.

The bag of flour I was carrying slid from my hands and exploded on the carpet. Two jars of yeast plummeted onto the coffee table, where they burst into shards and powder. My last bottle of molasses sailed in a wide arc and cracked open on the receptionist's cherrywood desk. A thick wave of sweet, dark liquid began a gluey descent across the phone console. My steel bowl of bread sponge catapulted out of my arms and hit the wall.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to change my own trajectory toward an end table. It was one of two rough-hewn, cabin-style monstrosities that the decorator had thought necessary to make Hanrahan & Jule look like what it claimed to be: "your Rocky Mountain neighborhood law firm!"

I hit the end table, ricocheted over to the desk, cried out, and finallylanded on my stomach. I had tripped over I-knew-not-what in a spectacular manner, and now I was prone on an imitation Native American rug. I shrieked, "Very funny, fellas!" But the lawyers who pulled these pranks didn't appear.

I wiped flour out of my eyes and waited for the guys to reveal themselves. When they didn't, I tried to focus on what I could see of the small lobby space. Lamps made of elk horns sat on the clunky tables. The bentwood couches, which were placed beneath homey paintings of food, were empty. I was lying on a sponge-soaked picture of a tepee. The pain assaulting my tailbone was excruciating.

Gritting my teeth, I figured I was about as upset as any caterer could be, when the bread for the following morning's breakfast has been wrecked the night before. I still hadn't seen what had caused my fall. Nor was there any telltale noise. In fact, the law firm of Hanrahan & Jule was completely quiet.

I'd ended up on the far side of the massive coffee table, a thick column of wood carved, I'd been told, from the trunk of an ancient blue spruce tree. I rubbed my behind and stared at the dark lacquered bark. Had I just stumbled over my own feet? No, I was sure the small cadre of lawyers who were not in Maui this week, ostensibly engaging in continuing education, was responsible for this mishap. I heaved myself onto my back, wondering if the guys -- and that's what all ten H&J lawyers were, guys -- would think this was more funny than when they'd put green food coloring into the cheddar omelettes. Or how about the live moths that had fluttered out of one of my folded tablecloths? And then, oh Lord, then -- there was the gin-switched-for-water in my espresso machine. Soon after that trick, I'd seen one of the partners pouring vodka into the very same machine's water well. I'd used my tray to whack him from behind -- accidentally, of course -- and spewed forty dollars' worth of Stolichnaya across the firm's huge kitchen.

Staring at the ceiling, I sighed. Now that my flour, yeast, molasses, and sponge were kaput, was the partner who'd ordered the breakfast going to run out and buy freshly baked loaves for his Friday-morning meeting with clients? I doubted it very much. I wrenched my body around to survey the damage.

And there, sprawled on the far side of the coffee table, was Dusty Routt.

In addition to being a friend, Dusty was our neighbor. She was also in training to become the firm's second paralegal, and she often got drafted into playing a part in these high jinks. At the very least, she was sometimes pressed into trying to cover them up, as I'd discovered after the spiked-coffee affair, when I'd caught her disposing of a plastic bag holding two empty gin bottles. "Orders from King Richard," Dusty had whispered conspiratorially. "He says I have to get rid of the evidence. Without you catching me, that is," she'd added with a characteristic giggle as she slammed the Dumpster lid shut. Since King Richard was Dusty's uncle, Richard Chenault, the same partner whose Stoly I later disposed of, I knew a confrontation was out of the question. Just this past August, Richard's secretary had been summarily fired when she'd had the audacity -- or stupidity -- to send a locket engraved for Richard's mistress to his, uh, wife. Richard's wife, a doctor named K.D., had promptly filed for divorce.

I stared at Dusty's back, waiting. I couldn't see her face. Still, I knew it was Dusty. There was her highlighted-at-home hair; there was the like-new beige Calvin Klein suit she was wearing. I'd actually found the suit for her at Aspen Meadow's secondhand store. Now I wanted to hear her high, joyful voice as she jumped up to cry, "Surprise!" I anticipated a trio of attorneys leaping out from behind the receptionist's desk and squealing, "Gotcha!"

But I still couldn't hear anything at all.

"Dusty!" I whispered hoarsely. "Get up. Gag's over."

She didn't move. I did finally hear something, but it was only the steady plink plop of beaten egg dripping onto one of the end tables. My gaze shifted from Dusty to where the sponge liquid had first landed, on Charlie Baker's painting of peach pie, one of three of his famous pictures of food that adorned the lobby walls. The frame was broken. Had I done that to dear, departed Charlie Baker's artwork?

Charlie Baker. I swallowed. Don't go there, I ordered myself. But then I squinted at some splotches and drips that had stained the painted pie, with its list of ingredients meticulously penned underneath . . .

Continues...


Excerpted from Dark Tort by Diane Davidson Copyright ©2006 by Diane Davidson. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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First Chapter

Dark Tort

Chapter One

I tripped over the body of my friend Dusty Routt at half past ten on the night of October 19.

At first I thought it was a joke. Loaded down with bread-making supplies, I had just pushed through the heavy wooden door of Hanrahan & Jule, the boutique law firm in Aspen Meadow where I'd been catering breakfasts for several months. My foot caught and I stumbled forward. I thought, Those H&J clowns are up to something. Again.

The bag of flour I was carrying slid from my hands and exploded on the carpet. Two jars of yeast plummeted onto the coffee table, where they burst into shards and powder. My last bottle of molasses sailed in a wide arc and cracked open on the receptionist's cherrywood desk. A thick wave of sweet, dark liquid began a gluey descent across the phone console. My steel bowl of bread sponge catapulted out of my arms and hit the wall.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to change my own trajectory toward an end table. It was one of two rough-hewn, cabin-style monstrosities that the decorator had thought necessary to make Hanrahan & Jule look like what it claimed to be: "your Rocky Mountain neighborhood law firm!"

I hit the end table, ricocheted over to the desk, cried out, and finally landed on my stomach. I had tripped over I-knew-not-what in a spectacular manner, and now I was prone on an imitation Native American rug. I shrieked, "Very funny, fellas!" But the lawyers who pulled these pranks didn't appear.

I wiped flour out of my eyes and waited for the guys to reveal themselves. When they didn't, I tried to focus on what I could see of the small lobby space. Lamps made of elkhorns sat on the clunky tables. The bentwood couches, which were placed beneath homey paintings of food, were empty. I was lying on a sponge-soaked picture of a tepee. The pain assaulting my tailbone was excruciating.

Gritting my teeth, I figured I was about as upset as any caterer could be, when the bread for the following morning's breakfast has been wrecked the night before. I still hadn't seen what had caused my fall. Nor was there any telltale noise. In fact, the law firm of Hanrahan & Jule was completely quiet.

I'd ended up on the far side of the massive coffee table, a thick column of wood carved, I'd been told, from the trunk of an ancient blue spruce tree. I rubbed my behind and stared at the dark lacquered bark. Had I just stumbled over my own feet? No, I was sure the small cadre of lawyers who were not in Maui this week, ostensibly engaging in continuing education, was responsible for this mishap. I heaved myself onto my back, wondering if the guys -- and that's what all ten H&J lawyers were, guys -- would think this was more funny than when they'd put green food coloring into the cheddar omelettes. Or how about the live moths that had fluttered out of one of my folded tablecloths? And then, oh Lord, then -- there was the gin-switched-for-water in my espresso machine. Soon after that trick, I'd seen one of the partners pouring vodka into the very same machine's water well. I'd used my tray to whack him from behind -- accidentally, of course -- and spewed forty dollars' worth of Stolichnaya across the firm's huge kitchen.

Staring at the ceiling, I sighed. Now that my flour, yeast, molasses, and sponge were kaput, was the partner who'd ordered the breakfast going to run out and buy freshly baked loaves for his Friday-morning meeting with clients? I doubted it very much. I wrenched my body around to survey the damage.

And there, sprawled on the far side of the coffee table, was Dusty Routt.

In addition to being a friend, Dusty was our neighbor. She was also in training to become the firm's second paralegal, and she often got drafted into playing a part in these high jinks. At the very least, she was sometimes pressed into trying to cover them up, as I'd discovered after the spiked-coffee affair, when I'd caught her disposing of a plastic bag holding two empty gin bottles. "Orders from King Richard," Dusty had whispered conspiratorially. "He says I have to get rid of the evidence. Without you catching me, that is," she'd added with a characteristic giggle as she slammed the Dumpster lid shut. Since King Richard was Dusty's uncle, Richard Chenault, the same partner whose Stoly I later disposed of, I knew a confrontation was out of the question. Just this past August, Richard's secretary had been summarily fired when she'd had the audacity -- or stupidity -- to send a locket engraved for Richard's mistress to his, uh, wife. Richard's wife, a doctor named K.D., had promptly filed for divorce.

I stared at Dusty's back, waiting. I couldn't see her face. Still, I knew it was Dusty. There was her highlighted-at-home hair; there was the like-new beige Calvin Klein suit she was wearing. I'd actually found the suit for her at Aspen Meadow's secondhand store. Now I wanted to hear her high, joyful voice as she jumped up to cry, "Surprise!" I anticipated a trio of attorneys leaping out from behind the receptionist's desk and squealing, "Gotcha!"

But I still couldn't hear anything at all.

"Dusty!" I whispered hoarsely. "Get up. Gag's over."

She didn't move. I did finally hear something, but it was only the steady plink plop of beaten egg dripping onto one of the end tables. My gaze shifted from Dusty to where the sponge liquid had first landed, on Charlie Baker's painting of peach pie, one of three of his famous pictures of food that adorned the lobby walls. The frame was broken. Had I done that to dear, departed Charlie Baker's artwork?

Charlie Baker. I swallowed. Don't go there, I ordered myself. But then I squinted at some splotches and drips that had stained the painted pie, with its list of ingredients meticulously penned underneath . . .

Dark Tort. Copyright © by Diane Davidson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 44 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(15)

4 Star

(9)

3 Star

(8)

2 Star

(5)

1 Star

(7)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 44 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 2, 2006

    Cook, Don't Read

    I've read all the books in the series, and this will be my last. How odd that a sledge hammer was a feature in the book, because that's how I felt about the entire thing...hammer into the reader's head the same thing over and over again just in case we're too blind to see it. Add the charm of a wet noodle, absolutely no humor, plenty of whining and self pity and more references to past books than actual plot then drag it all down to a snail's pace and it all adds up to one incredibly boring book. You know whodunit and why withing the first 50 pages, and by the end when Goldy does her usual act of extreme stupidity (and you just know how she'll be saved this time) you don't really care. By the end of the book the only character I could still stomach was Julian. Maybe it's time to drop Goldy and follow this young man...he seems to be the only one with a brain and compassion and can still function in the face of disaster, with a smile.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 20, 2014

    Bzywy

    Ny8'yyb 'by
    bbthybby'k"b5

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  • Posted October 11, 2013

    Highly recommend

    Loved the mystery and how they incorporated cooking into the story.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 22, 2012

    As usual, exciting

    Although this is't my favorite book in the series, it was still entertaining & had an exciting ending.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 17, 2012

    A must read for all her fans

    Davidson never fails to both intrigue, entertain and certainly widen our recipe files. May she never stop. I loved this one

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  • Posted May 8, 2010

    light-hearted mystery

    yummy, good recipes

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  • Posted November 24, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    Food and murder, what a great combination!

    Goldy Shulz owns Goldilocks Catering in Aspen Meadows, CO. She has been hired by the law firm Hanrahan & Jule to cater breakfasts and snacks. <BR/><BR/>When Goldy arrives late one night to prepare for the next day's breakfast, she is supposed to meet Dusty Routt, a good friend and neighbor who is a paralegal in training at the firm. Goldy was to give Dusty a cooking lesson. Dusty's uncle is the managing partner in the law firm. Unfortunately Goldy trips over Dusty's body when she arrives.<BR/><BR/>Goldy is asked by Dusty's mother to look into her death. Years before Dusty's brother died while in police custody. Her mother doesn't have faith in the police to uncover the truth.<BR/><BR/>Goldy had recently noticed Dusty wearing an expensive bracelet, and Dusty had alluded to sharing some information with Goldy when they met that night.<BR/><BR/>Can Goldy uncover the true identity of the killer without putting her family through the mud again?<BR/><BR/>I really enjoy this series. Goldy is a great character, and all the food discussion is fabulous. I just find myself eating while reading, though.<BR/><BR/>I thought the story line in this book was well written and plotted out. I would like to see her mysteries be a bit shorter as I prefer mysteries under 350 pages. <BR/><BR/>I highly recommend this book and series.

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  • Posted November 2, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    C is for catering and crime

    A murdered paralegal assistant. A recently deceased artist who painted highly sought after images of food. A team of ambitious attorneys, and their competitive wives. A harridan of an office manager. A bishop with a dark secret. Throw them into the mix with Goldy's family and friends, and you've got the recipe for her next culinary caper. Dark Tort is a puzzle of a mystery chock full of colorful characters, plot twists, and even a few LOL scenes (especially the one at the birthday party with all the leaves.) It's amazing to believe Davidson's written so many of these and is still managing to remain fresh and enjoyable. But she's done it, so you can pick this one up for when you're in the mood for something light but satisfying.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 8, 2008

    A Goo Story/Plot obscured by mindless rhetoric

    Had to scan about a quarter of the book to find the story again. Still, got lost in the pratter of food & silliness. Seriously doubt that I'll attempt reading another of her books.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 21, 2007

    Not One of Her Best

    I have read all the books in this series and have always enjoyed them. They are quick, light and fast read. But this one made me feel like I had skipped a couple of pages or missed something in the last book. The introduction of the Charlie Baker character had me skipping back through the pages, I had know idea who he was and Davidson wrote it like we should all be familar with him????Then as the story unfolded she started to explain who he was, but more of that should have been done in the beginning. The Routt family were more annoying then sympathetic. The psator character wasn't developed enough.I think I cared less about the characters then in the past and there were too many of them and her usual characters (Marla, her son) were shoved in here in there to fill in.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2007

    Hopefully just a glitch

    I agree with the reviewer who said that it sounded as if this book had been written by someone else. There were too many new characters stuffed in -- some who logically should have been mentioned before, based on their relationships with Davidson's roster of previous characters -- and at times it looked as though the writer was making an effort to link DARK TORT with the previous books. 'I found some of Goldy's words a bit un-Goldy-ish, and even Tom seemed a bit stiff'. This was quite a contrast to the previous installment -- Double Shot -- which left me laughing aloud at some parts, while in a real state of suspense during others. It's going to take a lot more than one sub-par work to get me off the Goldy series, however. Hopefully, this was just a glitch.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 28, 2007

    A reviewer

    The book was boring and predictable....I also found two mistakes...anyone else find them? When Tom is cooking dinner for Goldie, the boys, and Wink he is preparing green beans but when they are eating the have broccoli with cheese sauce...and when Goldie and Julian are making the dinner for the party at the end they prepare asparagus but they serve green beans.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 20, 2006

    Loved it!

    I always enjoy Diane Mott Daivdison's books and look forward to each read. Dark Tort gives the reader a glimpse of the unhappy lives of partners in a law firm as Goldie gathers clues to solve the murder of friend and neighbor Dusty. Thank you for another great book and yummy recipes!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 6, 2006

    Who Really Wrote This Book???

    WOW! What a disappointment after waiting so long for her next book. I felt like she had a ghost writer who doesn't know her or her writing style or her characters very well actually write the book! For the most part it made no sense. Having a very minor character from a book past to the front burner and hope to have us care about her was very weird. If you had never read any of her previous books, you wouldn't even understand some of her references to other people in the book...I don't understand how she could have so casually dropped to minor roles, Marla and Arch and even Tom, let alone any references to the JRK her nemesis for so long. If you read her last book you would know this was big and for her to make hardly any mention but yea move on like nothing happened was very bizarre. The whole book was just weird and I felt I had to finish it. I had even ordered the CD's read by Barbara Rosenblat to listen to at work and couldn't bring myself to listen to it as it made it even more boring this time around. The recipes.....were weird and nothing sounded mouthwatering at all...if this was her idea of a departure...she departed way too much. Bring back the old Goldy and give us the excitement of the past!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 27, 2006

    Taste & Intrigue Welded In. Slurp & Sense.

    Mesmerized by the luscious book jacket on DARK TORT, I picked up the hardback with my right hand, and ran my left fingertips over the face of the cool, smooth, brail effective jacket. I was more than ready to pick up on what this author had done subtly differently this time to continue infusing her stories with the edge and surge which had kept them riding tips of waves of cravings for culinary mysteries. A riveting intensity in the opening scene of DARK TORT (the legal term for wrongful act, not ¿torte¿ as in pastry) was sparked by the first sentence of chapter one, page one. But what welded the rivets for me was the culinary catastrophe in the third paragraph: ¿The bag of flour I was carrying slid from my hands and exploded on the carpet. Two jars of yeast plummeted onto the coffee table, where they burst into shards and powder. My last bottle of molasses sailed in a wide arc and cracked onto the receptionist¿s cherry-wood desk. A thick wave of sweet, dark liquid began a gluey descent across the phone console. My steel bowl of bread sponge catapulted out or my arms and hit the wall.¿ With each sensory impression in that paragraph having opened gateways into my mind, I would be reading onward with awakened interest. The first 40 pages had the feel of a nightmare I had half expected Goldy to suddenly point to her pillow, at a place to ponder about the dream, which would, of course, be a clue to a murder which would occur later, in the waking state. Ironically, those first 40 pages also had the feel of the reality of ¿tripping over a dead body¿ (of a close friend) and dealing with that type of emotional/mental/spiritual trauma, compiled with the ongoing chill of threatening police procedural impositions impregnated with that metallic taste/smell, which Goldy made note of a few times during those opening pages, usually in reference to heat systems blowing warm air with that blood chilling flavor. Goldy cooks up storms of clues in her spaciously gourmet, commercial kitchen, simultaneous to sorting through the ones which come `round to bat her body and soul while she¿s in an eternal state of grieving exhaustion (to which, as faithful readers, we¿ve become happily addicted). So, how does she ever GET anywhere? That spring-loaded titanium back bone. And Tom¿s hugs accompanied by his ¿to die for¿ sharing of the career-laden-Mom-homemaker¿s loads of eternal daily duties. Then there¿s ESPRESSO, the Energizer Bunny bean! Couldn¿t love more the way Goldy snarls at anyone who has the wherewithal or gall to trash the natural, real values of caffeine, butter, eggs, and/or creme.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 29, 2006

    Hey, Diane: Look for a new reader!

    I have always enjoyed Diane Mott Davidson's books. They have always been a joy to read or listen to, and have had a good bit of humor injected into the mysteries. However, this book was boring. A lot of that is due to the reader, Elizabeth Marvel, who constantly sounded on the verge of a mental breakdown. Any humor in this book (and I'm not sure that there was any) was negated by her reading style, which was most annoying. The reader of one's book is a most important choice and Diane, you failed us here. Not only with the reader but with the book itself. Do you need some good recipies? I have a bunch!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 16, 2006

    Boring...not even any food references

    It is hard to believe that this is the same author. I was eagerly awaiting her next novel, but this one is boring and doesn't even contain the mouthwatering descriptions of food that were in her earlier works. Not worth your time. I didn't even bother to read the last chapter. Didn't care.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 4, 2006

    almost missed this one

    saw there was a new catering mystery and plunked my money down.so happy to have one of this series to make my nights as cozy as my mom's kitchen.and you can just imagine goldie's newly redone kitchen and the smell of that coffee she inspires you to be drinking.go get it quick!

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    A tastey treat

    Caterer Goldy Schulz prepares breakfasts, snacks and occasional lunches for the legal staff and clients of Hanrahan & Jule law firm in Aspen Meadow, Colorado. However, when she arrives early to set up the day¿s menu, Goldy finds the corpse of paralegal Dusty Routt, a victim of strangulation.------------- Dusty¿s mom, already distraught over the recent death of her son while in police custody, believes law enforcement will do nothing to identify her daughter¿s killer. Knowing that Goldy has solved homicides, she asks the caterer to investigate. Though she knows better, Goldy feels sorry for the grieving woman and agrees. With help from her husband Tom the cop, gossipy clues from the caterers extended network, and her son Arch the student driver, Goldy begins to find the recipes for murder starting with the key ingredients of motive and opportunity.--------------- This thirteenth Goldy culinary mystery is a delightful fresh and original amateur sleuth tale that readers will enjoy (except for die hard dieters ¿ numerous recipes included). The story line is fast-paced as Goldy quietly makes inquires and taps into the caterer network to learn more about the law firm¿s employees and partners. Arch¿s driving lessons will hit home to parents of teens as Goldy ages gracefully. Diane Mott Davidson is in top form with this tasty whodunit.-------------- Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 24, 2006

    Goldy Needs a Break

    On her way to a late night catering job, intrepid caterer-turned-sleuth Goldy Schultz stumbles over the body of her friend, law-firm paralegal, Dusty Routt. Dusty's mother, Sally, a friend and neighbor of Goldy's, begs her to solve the crime. With her crew of usual suspects, Tom Schultz, Julian Teller, Marla Korman, and Arch, as well as the Routts and contacts in the law firm, Goldy takes us on a red-herring filled romp. Is it the Bishop? What do the food paintings have to do with the crime? Did one of the attorneys in the firm do Dusty in? Or was it the uber witch office manager? As usual, the book is filled with yummy food and lots of dish about the rich and infamous. The included recipes are great (but lime juice in Chicken Piccata?). I was disappointed in the title recipe, Dark Tort. I expected something wonderful and chocolately, but the tort is more of a spice-based creation. My complaint: Way too much explanation, especially at the end of the book, when all is revealed. I love Diane Mott Davidson's books, but this one seems just a little tired, and like she tried to hard to make the law-firm concept work.

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