{"product_id":"eaves-of-destruction-isbn-9780399586460","title":"Eaves of Destruction","description":"\u003cb\u003eMurder is on the to-do list when construction contractor Shannon Hammer looks for a killer in the fifth Fixer-Upper Mystery...\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDon't miss the Hallmark Movies \u0026amp; Mystery Originals starring Jewel, based on the Fixer-Upper Mystery series!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eAt the annual Victorian Home and Garden Tour, Lighthouse Cove, California’s premier contractor, Shannon Hammer, realizes that the competition is about to turn deadly.... \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Shannon is in high demand among rival homeowners, who will do anything to win Best in Show. One-upmanship and even espionage break out among neighbors, construction crews, decorators, and landscapers. Thanks to several new hires, Shannon is sure she can handle the extra load—until murder throws a wrench in the works.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The small town’s corrupt building inspector is found dead on one of Shannon’s jobsites, and soon plenty of suspects are coming out of the woodwork. When another body is discovered, Shannon calls on her team of close friends and devilishly astute thriller writer Mac to help her nail down the details and build a case against the killer before the door shuts on someone else—for good.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Kate Carlisle and the Fixer-Upper Mysteries\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sleuth Shannon Hammer knows her way around a building site and a murder—I fell for this feisty, take-charge heroine, and readers will, too.”—Leslie Meier, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Lucy Stone Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Clever wit and complex plotting...immensely satisfying.”—Jenn McKinlay, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Library Lover’s Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Perfect escapist cozy fare.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Another winner from one of the leaders in the genre!”—\u003ci\u003eRT Book Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Highly entertaining...quick, clever, and somewhat edgy....Shannon’s not a stereotype—she’s a person, and an interesting, intelligent, likable one at that, which makes it easy to become invested in her tale.”—Smitten by BooksA native Californian, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cb\u003eKate Carlisle\u003c\/b\u003e worked in television for many years before turning to writing.  Inspired by the northern seaside towns of her native California, where Victorian mansions grace the craggy cliffs and historic lighthouses warn fishermen and smugglers alike, Kate was drawn to create the Fixer-Upper Mysteries, featuring small-town girl Shannon Hammer, a building contractor specializing in home restoration. Kate also writes the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Bibliophile Mysteries featuring Brooklyn Wainwright.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I really love my job. But I've got to admit, some days are better      than others.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I've been working on construction sites since I was eight years      old and my father started taking my sister, Chloe, and me to work      with him. Our mom had died a month earlier and it just made sense      for Chloe and me to hang out with Dad after school instead of      going home to a big, sad, empty house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chloe and I had thrived around the construction workers, who took      us under their wings. They bought us little pink tool belts and      hard hats and showed us all kinds of cool stuff to make. The first      time I used a stud finder, it was a revelation. And when one of      Dad's brawny carpenters demonstrated the joys of the common socket      wrench to me, I was seriously hooked. I soaked up everything the      guys taught me, from laying tile to hanging drywall. And I knew      what I wanted to do with my life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then, six years ago, Dad suffered a heart attack. Chloe had      finally gotten her big break in Los Angeles and was working on a      home-makeover TV show, so Dad asked me if I would be willing to      take over Hammer Construction. I didn't have to think twice; I      said yes. And ever since then, I'd been living the dream. Each day      presented a new and exciting challenge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But every once in a while, I would find a fly in my personal      ointment, so to speak, and get a client who was, frankly,      horrible. Petsy Jorgensen was one of those clients. She was the      quintessential \"client from hell.\" Having to work with Petsy was      almost enough to make me wish I had become a barista. Or a brain      surgeon. Or a hobo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was a glorious spring morning following weeks of rain. We had      desperately needed the rain, of course, so nobody had complained      too much. Still enough was enough, and all of this lovely sunshine      was like a miracle. I had driven over to Cranberry Circle with my      foreman, Wade Chambers, to talk to the homeowner about some work      she wanted done to her beautiful Victorian home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In a town where one Victorian mansion was more sumptuous and      ornate than the next, the Jorgensen house was the pinnacle of      elaborate, gracious excess. It stood at the end of the cul-de-sac      on a large plot of land surrounded by several homes around the      same age, and six newer Victorian-style homes that had been built      with love by my father's company to blend in with the originals.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I took a lot of pride in those homes, and now that I was working      on the most beautiful old Victorian in the circle, I wondered,      could I get any luckier?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Jorgensen house was a classic Queen Anne design, with a      three-story tower to the left of the wide wraparound veranda,      three chimneys, and multiple gables and dormer windows, all topped      off by a lovely widow's walk that spread out from the top-floor      tower across the pitched rooftop.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I couldn't wait to see the inside of this house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hello. I'm Shannon Hammer,\" I said when a well-dressed woman      opened the front door. \"This is my foreman, Wade Chambers.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's about time you got here,\" the woman said, swinging the door      open wider. I'd never met her before and now I knew why. We      clearly didn't move in the same social circles-if her initial      attitude toward us was any clue. She actually managed to look down      her nose at us, which was a real feat, seeing as both Wade and I      were taller than she was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She was thin and beautiful in a Jackie Kennedy sort of way, with      dark hair worn in a stylish bob and great taste in clothes. But      she had hard blue eyes and frown lines that were starting to dig      deeply enough into the sides of her mouth that you could someday      plant corn there. \"I'm Petsy Jorgensen.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I brushed aside her previous comment implying that we were late-in      reality we were five minutes early for our appointment. Stepping      into the surprisingly large two-storied foyer, I gazed around,      taking in the artistry of the heavily carved newel post, the dark      wood paneling, the polished handrail, and the unique spiral      balusters that graced the wide staircase straight ahead. I blinked      up at the dramatic crystal chandelier hanging from the center of      an elaborately gilded ceiling rose and had to smile. This house      was a gem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What a beautiful foyer,\" I said, admiring the scrollwork on the      corbels that extended out from either side of the archway leading      into the formal dining room to our left.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, yes, of course, but I'd prefer to cut the chitchat. I don't      have time for it.\" She spoke in a clipped way that sounded very      much like Queen to Peasant. \"Follow me.\" She walked into the      dining room and we trailed behind her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If I hadn't already fallen in love with the house, I might have      turned around and walked out. Life was too short to deal with      deliberately rude people. I was good at first impressions, and      while Petsy Jorgensen was \"ice princess\" beautiful, she was a      socially incompetent, angry, impatient woman. I wondered whether      it would be worth our time and energy to continue with the      interview, but I decided to keep going for now. Maybe she was just      having a bad morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Petsy strode toward the opposite wall and gestured down at the      dark wood wainscoting that circled the large, elegant space. \"Will      you just look at this?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I did as she asked and knelt down to get a closer look at the      wainscoting. It was actually made up of individual wood panels      fitted together, each about three feet tall by two feet wide. A      lovely sculpted grapevine pattern, accentuated by birds and the      occasional flower, wove itself across each panel. The carvings      were wonderful. Some nineteenth-century craftsman had worked his      butt off to create these beauties.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's a gorgeous room,\" Wade said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Very funny.\" Petsy scowled at him. \"If you can't see that it's a      disgusting mess, then I'm not sure you know what you're doing.\"      She looked at me. \"All I want to know is, can you fix it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before I could answer, she jabbed her finger in my direction. \"And      don't lie to me. If you can't do it, I want to hear you say it,      because I'll have to hire someone more capable immediately.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I took in a slow breath, let it out, and managed to smile at her.      \"I can guarantee you won't find anyone more capable than me and my      team. But if you would prefer to make a change, now is the time to      let us know.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She pressed her lips together in a tight frown. She didn't like      being pushed. Funny, because I didn't, either. After a few long      seconds, she nodded briefly and waved at the damaged walls. \"Fine.      Go ahead. Let me know what you think.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I nodded, satisfied that she knew where we stood. Deliberately      taking my time, I walked to another panel section and hunched down      to study the grapevine pattern more closely. My stomach dropped as      I noticed all the tiny holes that had been drilled into the wood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Wormholes?\" I whispered, and shivered involuntarily. I hated      seeing the damage that woodworms could do to a beautiful piece of      wood. But besides the wormholes, there were also large chunks of      wood missing in the bas-relief images of the birds and grapevines.      In some spots the grapes were cracked, and some leaves were      completely gone. Several of the frolicking cherubs had fractured      noses and a few birds were missing parts. Woodworms hadn't done      that damage. It looked more like the work of some destructive      humans. Had someone been playing bumper cars in here?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I could fix the carvings, but it would take time. The wormholes      were more problematic. While plenty of people liked that worn,      rustic look, there was always the possibility that the little      buggers were still living in the wood. They would keep drilling,      and eventually the entire wall of wainscoting would collapse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I moved on to examine the next panel. It was just as bad. I      checked a few more. Same problem. How had that happened?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well?\" she asked in a demanding tone, as though I'd taken too      much time inspecting the wood. I hadn't taken more than a minute      or two, but I supposed Mrs. Jorgensen was a busy gal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, of course I can fix it,\" I said. I can fix anything, I      thought. Even your stupid wormholes. But I again pasted a smile on      my face, and added, \"I'll be happy to do it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good,\" she said. \"Because I'm sick of looking at it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How did all this damage occur?\" Wade asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She rolled her eyes. \"My husband let his bratty little nephews      loose in here a few years ago and they destroyed everything. I'm      absolutely certain it's the reason we didn't win the grand prize      last year.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e First of all, unless the kids really had been playing bumper cars,      I couldn't believe a couple of them could've caused this kind of      wholesale damage. Maybe a nick or two here and there, but not all      of this destruction. And those wormholes weren't caused by kids.      So was Petsy just kidding us? Or was she lying about the source of      the damage? I shook my head. Why would she lie about something      like this?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Second, not that it mattered in the current scheme of things, but      Petsy's husband, Matthew, was a good friend of my father and a      really nice guy. Would he have allowed his nephews to tear this      room apart? And while we were on the subject of Matthew, how in      the world did he put up with his wife's crabby moods?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And third, the grand prize she was talking about was the large      cash award given each year by the judges of the Lighthouse Cove      Victorian Home and Garden Tour. There were dozens of lesser prizes      given out as well. It was exciting to see how prestigious the      annual tour had become, but now it seemed as if half the town was      willing to sell their souls for one of those impressive awards.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Apparently Mrs. Jorgensen fell into that category.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I hunched down to take one last look at the woodwork. I wasn't      about to call Mrs. Jorgensen a liar, but there was no way a couple      of kids had wreaked all that damage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stood up and met Wade's gaze. I could tell he wasn't happy. In      fact, he looked more than ready to blow off this job and I was      pretty close to following him. But I rarely turned my back on a      challenge, and there was Matthew Jorgensen and my father's      friendship to consider. So in that moment, I doubled down on my      decision and turned and faced Mrs. Jorgensen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I assume you also want to get rid of the wormholes,\" I said,      pulling my tablet from my bag to take notes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course I do.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I thought of Dad and took a few deep breaths. \"Fine. The wormholes      will be easy enough to fix. But the missing pieces of the carvings      will be more difficult and time-consuming.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her eyes narrowed. \"What do you mean, time-consuming? Can you do      it or not?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I told you I can do the work, but it could take a while.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You have four weeks.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I breathed in and out, hoping I could maintain my calm outer      shell. \"I understand you want it done before the Home and Garden      Tour, but my team and I have other jobs we're working on this      week. We'll have to start here next week.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What? But that only gives me three weeks.\" She sighed. \"All      right, fine. But I insist you work for me exclusively.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's not going to happen,\" I said genially. \"But as far as the      time frame goes, I would suggest that rather than repairing each      panel individually, which could take a month or longer, there's an      alternative that I-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"But I was promised-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Let me finish, please,\" I continued softly, trying to remain      serene in the face of her impatience. \"If you'd care to consider      it, we can replace the panels with beautiful wood onlays in a      similar style to your grapevine pattern. We would stain them the      same rich color and you would never know the difference.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Onlays? I don't like the sound of that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I can show you some beautiful pieces that would be perfect in      this room. I've got a website you can look at to see if-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What do you mean, a website? What are wood onlays?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Let me show you.\" Turning my tablet around for her to see, I      clicked onto Victorian Home Works, a website that displayed      beautifully sculpted onlays in different sizes and patterns and      designs in every type of wood imaginable. You could find almost      anything and it was all very high quality. I skipped to a page      showing hundreds of different pilasters, pediments, ceiling roses,      cornices, corbels, and crown moldings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I explained that this company specialized in both inlays-which      were designs carved straight into wood-and onlays, which were      pieces designed and carved separately and then applied to smooth      wood or walls. There were scrolls and shell patterns with fancy      flourishes; all sorts of fleur-de-lis patterns; roses with leafy      froufrous; fan shapes and stylized pinecones. There were even      carved bows with ribbons dangling off to the sides. And there were      grapevines of every size and style. And all of these were offered      in maple, cherry, and other hardwoods.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"As you can see, your choices are quite varied.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She shook her head in disbelief. \"But these things are . . . why,      they're . . . they're fake! I want someone who will actually come      into my home and do the work. Someone who knows how to carve the      designs into the wood. Why would I use this company and cheat      myself?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was about to laugh-until I got a better look at her horrified      expression. \"Let me assure you that this is a perfectly acceptable      way of creating the look you want. The pieces are manufactured in      England.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I covertly rolled my eyes as I said the words. As if something      coming from England made it more legitimate? But for some people,      that fact made all the difference.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Everyone in my industry uses these products,\" I added.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not in my house,\" she said, sniffing with contempt. \"I was told      you did custom woodwork. Is that true or not?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's true,\" I said mildly, although I was getting fed up with her      attitude. I could tell that Wade was fuming.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then that's what I want. I won't accept anything less. No      cheating.\" I wouldn't have thought it possible, but her frown      lines deepened.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304625885413,"sku":"NP9780399586460","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399586460.jpg?v=1767725842","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/eaves-of-destruction-isbn-9780399586460","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}