Barbacoa, Bomba, and Betrayal by Raquel V. Reyes: Excerpt

We are delighted to feature this excerpt from Barbacoa, Bomba, and Betrayal (A Caribbean Kitchen Mystery Book 3) by Raquel V. Reyes!

Barbacoa, Bomba, and Betrayal

In the third installment of the Caribbean Kitchen mysteries, for fans of Mia P. Manansala , Miriam Quiñones, cooking show sensation and amateur sleuth, has sand between her toes and a murderer nipping at her heels.

A surprise trip to Miriam’s parents in Punta Cana, which should be filled with arroz con pollo and breezy days under the tamarind tree, quickly becomes a hunt for a possible property saboteur. But before Miriam can begin to uncover the person damaging the vacation rentals her parents manage, she’s called away to Puerto Rico to film a Three Kings Day special. She’s welcomed to the blue ballast-stone streets of Old San Juan by crime scene tape, and things only get worse from there.

An anonymous personal gift on Miriam’s doorstep on New Year’s Eve screams stalker, and the 400-year-old guesthouse creaks and moans like there is something trapped in its walls. Luckily, her BFF, Alma, and their mutual friend Jorge are in town to keep her distracted between filming cultural segments for the network. But private chef tables and spa days come to an abrupt halt when Jorge’s telenovela heartthrob novio goes missing. And there is something worrisome about Alma’s too-perfect boyfriend–specifically, his duffle bag full of cash.

Will demon masks, African drumbeats, and dark alleys lead to Miriam’s demise? Or will the mysterious events come together like the delicious layers of a pastelón?

EXCERPT

“Should we take down the tree today?”

“Noooo,” I replied, shaking my head but not looking up from my book. “You know the tree stays up until the kings come.”

Robert and I had been married for almost six years. His family’s Christmas traditions were very different compared to mine. The Smiths did Christmas morning stockings and presents, then had a formal late lunch that looked a lot like Thanksgiving minus the turkey. By five pm, the holiday season was over for them. On the other hand, my Cuban family stayed up on Christmas Eve, Nochebuena, cooked a whole pig, had a delicious meal, danced and sang, played games, and opened presents. Then twelve days later, the Three Kings came to give the kids more gifts.

This was our first Christmas in Coral Shores, a village within metro Miami. His parents lived three blocks away. Mine lived nine hundred miles away in the Dominican Republic, but they used to live a stone’s throw away in Hialeah, another city within Miami-Dade County. We’d spent a joyous Nochebuena with my tíos and prima, who still lived in Hialeah, and then had a staid Christmas day with the Smiths.

“Plus, this is the first time we’ve ever had a big tree. I want to enjoy it for as long as possible.” I closed the seafood cookbook and set it beside me on the blue sofa before admiring our tree. Our apartment in NYC had been too tiny for anything more than a fake tabletop tree. This year’s evergreen took up the entire width and height of the front window. The deep woods pine smell wasn’t as strong as the day it had come off the refrigerated truck from North Carolina, but if I got close to it and took a deep breath, it was still there. I also had a pine-scented candle that I lit to fill the living room with the crisp seasonal fragrance. But I had to be watchful that Camo, our calico cat, didn’t get too curious about it like she was doing with an icicle ornament at that moment. 

“Roberto! Get Camo before she gets in the tree again,” I said. 

My six-foot-tall husband got on all fours and crawled over to the tree. Manny, having heard his pet’s name, came barreling out of his room to see what was happening. Laughing, he jumped on his father’s back. The two crumbled to the ground in a tickle wrestling match. Camo darted away from the commotion and onto my pregnant belly for safety. Father and son ended up flat on their backs with their heads on the white faux-fur tree skirt. Probably not my wisest purchase, and maybe part of why Camo was attracted to the tree. She loved to sleep on the skirt’s soft fur. 

“Little man, what’s that?” Robert pointed to something in the tree.

I hoped it wasn’t a lizard. Camo loved hunting them when they got into the house, and that happened frequently. 

“Is that a present we missed?” Robert asked. 

“Is it for me?” The excitement in our son’s voice was a holiday movie moment of wonder. 

“I don’t know, maybe. Let’s see.” Robert pulled the thin rectangular gift box from the low branch it had been perched on. He handed it to Manny, who read the tag with a bit of help from his father. 

“Mami, es pa’ tí.” Manny scrambled over the area rug to present it to me. “Ábrelo, ábrelo.”

I did as I was told and opened the gift. “Airplane tickets?” I read the folded printout. “Miami to Punta Cana! Robert, you didn’t! Ay mi madre, we’re going to see my mom!” I moved Camo from my lap and stood. “Get up. Get up. I need to kiss you!”

Robert lumbered up from the floor and embraced me. I kissed him deeply before doing a little happy bounce. “I can’t believe you kept this surprise from me!” 

Manny was caught up in the excitement too. He danced from foot to foot and shook his hips in a tick-tock fashion. “Vamos a ver a Abuela y Abuelo, yay.”

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About the Author

Raquel V. Reyes writes Latina protagonists. Her Cuban-American heritage, Miami, and Spanglish feature prominently in her work. Mango, Mambo, and Murder, the first in the Caribbean Kitchen Mystery series, won a LEFTY for Best Humorous Mystery. It was nominated for an Agatha Award and optioned for film. Raquel’s short stories appear in various anthologies, including The Best American Mystery and Suspense 2022.

Find her across social media platforms (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook) as @LatinaSleuths and on her website LatinaSleuths.com

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Category: On Writing