Exclusive! The Body in the Casket

So, I've teamed up with PICT Book Tours to provide excerpts and other book news to all of you!

Here's is an exclusive first look of The Body in the Casket by Katherine Hall Page!

Chapter One

"Have Faith in Your Kitchen," Faith Fairchild said, answering the phone at her catering firm. She'd been busy piping choux pastry for eclairs onto a baking sheet.

"Mrs. Fairchild?"

"Yes? This is Faith Fairchild. How may I help you?"

"Please hold for Max Dane." The voice had a plummy, slightly British tone, reminiscent of Jeeves, or Downtown Abbey's Carson. The only Max Dane Faith had heard of had been a fampous Broadway musical producer, but she was pretty sure he'd died years ago. This must be another Max Dane.

She was put through quickly and a new voice said, "Hi. I know this is short notice, but I am very much hoping you are available to handle a house party I'm throwing for about a dozen guests at the end of the month. A Friday to Sunday. Not just dinner, but all the meals."

Faith had never catered anything like this. A Friday to Sunday sounded like something out of a ritish pre- World War II country house novel- kippers for breakfast, Fortnum & Mason type hampers for the shoot, tea and scones, drinks and nibbles, then saddle of lamb or some other large haunch of meat for dinner with vintage clarets followed by port and Stilton- for the men only. She was intrigued. 

"The first thing I need to know is where you live, Mr. Dane. Also, is this a firm date? We've had a mild winter so far, but January may still deliver a wallop like last year."

A Manhattan native, Faith's marriage more than 20 years ago to the Reverend Thomas Fairchild meant a radical change of address- from the Big Apple to the orchards of Aleford, a small suburb west of Boston. Faith had never become used to boiled dinners, First Parish's rock hard pews and most of all, New England weather. By the end of the previous February there has been 75 inches of snow on the ground and you couldn't see through the historic parsonage's ground floor windows or open the front door. Teenage son Ben struggled valiantly to keep the back door clear, daily hewing the path to the garage. the resulting tunnel resembled a clip from Nanook of the North. 

"I'm afraid the date is firm. The thirtieth is my birthday. A milestone one, my seventieth." Unlike his butler or whoever had called Faith to the phone, Max Dane's voice indicted he'd started life in one of the five boroughs. Faith was guessing the Bronx. He sounded a bit sheepish when he said "my birthday," as if throwing a party for himself was out of character. "And I live in Havencrest. It's not far from Aleford, but I'd want you to be available at the house the whole time. Live in."

Leaving her family for three days was not something Faith did often, especially since Sunday was a workday for Tom and all too occasionally Saturday was as he "polished" his sermon. (His term, which she had noticed over the years, could mean writing the whole thing.)

Ben and Amy, two years younger, seemed old enough to be on their own, but Faith had found contrary to expectations, kids needed parents around more in adolescence than when they were toddlers. Every day brought the equivalent of scraped knees and they weren't the kind of hurts that could be soothed by Pat The Bunny and a chocolate chip cookie. She needed more time to think about taking the job. "I'm not sure I can leave my family..." was interrupted. "I quite understand that this would be difficult," Dane said and then he named a figure so far above anything she had ever been offered that she actually covered her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

"Look," he continued. "Why don't you come by and we'll talk in person? You can see the place and decide then. I don't use it myself but the kitchen is well equipped- the rest of the house too. I'll email directions and you can shoot me some times that work. This week if possible. I want to send out the invited right away."

Well, it wouldn't hurt to talk, Faith thought. And she did like seeing other people's houses. She agreed, but before she hung up curiosity won out and she asked, "Are you related to the Max Dane who produced all those wonderful Broadway musicals?"

"Very closely. As in one and the same. See you soon."

Faith put the phone down and turned to Pix Miller, her closest friend and part-time Have Faith employee.

"That was someone wanting Have Faith to cater a weekend long birthday celebration- for an astonishing amount of money." She named the figure in a breathless whisper.

I have a few more pages of the first chapter if anyone would like to read them please just shoot me a comment and I'll send it your way. :)