National bestselling author Kylie Logan takes the chili cook-off circuit to southern Texas to prove that revenge is a dish best served hot... Everyone in San Antonio remembers the Alamo, but how many remember the Chili Queens? Back in the early twentieth century, these spicy señoras sold their lip-smacking chili in plazas all around the city. Now, as part of the Chili Showdown, Maxie and her half-sister, Sylvia, are dressing up as the Chili Queens to raise money for charity. But someone wasn’t feeling too charitable toward a local troubadour, who is murdered at the fundraiser. When their friend Nick Falcone, head of security for the Showdown, actually becomes the prime suspect, it’s up to Maxie and Sylvia to turn the heat up on a killer, who’s planning a chili reception for them... INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES! Praise for the Chili Cook-off Mysteries “[A] spicy blend of a feisty heroine, colorful casino performers, and a deadly chili contest. The highly likable cast of characters and their hilarious hijinks make this series a blue-ribbon winner.”— RT Book Reviews “Cozy mystery lovers will be delighted to read this spicy mystery. It is a fast-paced page-turner of a read...with engaging characters.”—MyShelf.com “Witty dialogue, numerous suspects, and a strong development of characters highlight the strength of writing by an author...[who] continues her record of entertaining readers with insightful characters and laughter.”—Kings River Life Magazine “Maxie is an edgy firecracker of a main character...I predict that this fun new series is going to continue to get stronger and stronger!”—Mochas, Mysteries, and More “[A] solid mystery, introducing readers to an interesting setting and a unique cast of characters.”— CA Reviews Kylie Logan is the national bestselling author of The League of Literary Ladies Mysteries, the Button Box Mysteries, the Chili Cook-Off Mysteries, and the Ethnic Eats Mysteries. Acknowledgments CHAPTER 1 They say there is nothing hotter than Texas in July. They are not only dead wrong, but that collective they owes me an apology, a clean blouse—since my white cotton peasant shirt embroidered with bright flowers was already wringing wet—and a tall, icy margarita. Those perfect-haired, big-smile, smooth-talking weather forecasters on TV didn’t offer much consolation. They said the record high temperature for San Antonio in October was one hundred degrees, and that it looked like over the next few days, that record would be broken. By the way, that record was set way back in 1938. Didn’t it figure. See, 1938 or thereabouts was exactly what we were trying to recreate there on the plaza outside the famous Alamo. The year 1938, and the reign of the San Antonio Chili Queens. “Are you just going to just stand there, or do you plan on doing some work tonight?” My half sister, Sylvia, zipped by and tossed the comment at me, dragging me out of dreams of the AC back in the RV we used to travel the country with the Chili Showdown, the event that wandered from town to town all over America, hosting chili cook-off contests and showcasing chili in all its glory, as well as chili fixins and all the must-haves that go along with a good bowl of chili, stuff like beans and sauces. Too bad she was carrying a head-high stack of plastic bowls and she couldn’t see the look I shot her way in return. Work? In this heat? The words I grumbled are best left unreported. But never let it be said that Maxie Pierce isn’t one to pitch in. Especially when that pitching in meant reenacting the role of one of the city’s famous Chili Queens, those wonderful women who were part of a tradition here in San Antonio for more than one hundred years. The Chili Queens cooked pots of steaming chili in their homes, then, once the sun went down, carted them to plazas around the city to feed the customers who couldn’t get enough of the bowls of spicy goodness. For all those years, the Chili Queens were at the center of San Antonio nightlife. Along with them, the plazas filled with diners and musicians, with talk and singing and music that continued into the wee hours of the morning. Of course I would work. But not because Sylvia asked me to. Chili, see, is in my blood. Just like it’s in the blood of my dad, Texas Jack Pierce, a man who’s been missing for a few months and whose place Sylvia and I had taken behind the counter of the Hot-Cha Chili Seasoning Palace where he sold dried peppers and spices and chili mixes that were famous from one end of the country to the other. So it’s only natural, even though I’m not from San Antonio and nowhere near old enough to have ever had contact with any one of the original Chili Queens, that I definitely feel a connection. I bet there were plenty of nights they melted in the Texas heat, too. I lifted the hem of my flowing black skirt and headed into the nearby tent where Sylvia and I would be serving chili to the crowds of people gathered that night for a charity event. Read with