The Butcher And The Liar by S. L. Woeppel (EXCERPT)

Hello, dear readers! This is a banner week for excerpts, as today we’re featuring a selection from an upcoming psychological thriller, S L Woeppel’s The Butcher And The Liar.

Daisy Bellon is thirty-five years old, and hoping to live the rest of her life free from the shadows of her past. When she was only a child, her father made her an accomplice to his murders. While she’s definitely inherited his skill with a blade, she’s hoping to keep the rest of his legacy buried where it belongs.

Opening a butcher store in a quiet neighborhood of Chicago seems like the perfect way to keep body and soul together while staying, hopefully, under the radar. Never mind that the ghost of one of her dad’s victims has haunted her ever since the night she found her dad dismembering the woman in their basement. But when an anonymous letter arrives, mere days before someone else is killed in a chillingly familiar manner, Daisy knows that she’s finally going to have to confront the secrets she’s long turned away from, or risk becoming a monster herself.

Read on for a scene-setting excerpt of Daisy’s adult life before everything comes crashing down again:

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“Obi-Wan! It’s here!” Miles shouted from behind the counter as I walked into my butcher shop to see my partner paging through the West Loop News, a neighborhood newsletter that promised to “keep you in the loop.”

“It’s here!” he sang again, but in the voice of Michael Bublé.

“Ehg. I’ll pass.” I placed my bag on the refrigerated display counter that held our burger patties and sirloins for retail. The sign read, “Take and Steak.”

He held up the newsletter to see the image better. “This picture is badass—even if it does lack color and photography skills of any kind.”

Okay, fine, I was a little interested. I peeked over his shoulder as he began reading aloud, “‘Local entrepreneur Daisy Kantone offers a fresh take on an old classic.’ Ooh, I like it already, don’t you?” When I didn’t reply, he ignored me and continued. “‘Unless you’ve been living under a rock, or are a strict vegetarian, you’ve heard of the well-earned reputation of Fulton Market’s The Butcher Shoppe. What you may not know, however, is that the delicious and in- demand meat products are derived from a woman-owned operation. Not only owned, but ethically sourced, cut, and prepared, all by the same woman—Ms. Daisy Kantone.’” He paused and looked up expectantly. “Well?”

“When do they mention you?”

“Excellent question,” he noted and returned to scan the article.

I hadn’t planned on doing the interview; Miles’s constant badgering was the only reason I finally agreed. His arguments, in the end, were well-founded. It would likely boost local business, and he insisted that it was more than unlikely that a little neighborhood newsletter would garner any unwanted investigative journalism.

“Here we are. ‘While the notion of a butcher shop may not spark creativity, Daisy’s apprentice-turned-partner’—yours truly,” he said with a little bow and wave of his hand, “‘takes the cut in that regard, giving the shop a unique and unexpected flair with a limited yet highly curated selection retail offerings, everything from cow-themed spatulas to punny aprons to socks with little piggies on each toe.’ They love us, Daisy. Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“I’m listening.” I was listening. I just didn’t share his level of excitement.

“We’re totally going to have to hire people. This is going to take us next level!”

“Great. More paperwork.”

“Come on, Miyagi, don’t be such a downer,” he scolded as the newsletter appeared in front of my face, his finger on the picture of the two of us next to a hanging carcass. “Besides, you look hot.”

I was wearing the same thing I wore every day—jeans, a Butcher Shoppe T-shirt, and steel-toe boots. My long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail. Miles wore something similar, but with a leather butcher’s apron. He towered over me, his arm draped across my shoulders. “We look like butchers.”

“You’re a sexy woman wielding a cleaver. That’s hot. Now you’re supposed to say how good I look.”

Miles always looked good. His strong bone structure, light blond hair, brown eyes set with long lashes, and large frame were striking, but sadly, the inferior quality of the black-and-white newsletter obscured them. “You look handsome,” I replied with sincerity. “Tall.”

He grinned. “Thanks. I am tall. This is going to be good for us. Maybe we’ll even open a second location.”

“Slow down there, Daniel-san. We’ve got a good thing going. Let’s not outgrow ourselves just yet.”

He ignored me, proceeding to read aloud the rest with great aplomb, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was right. It was a simple article; nothing in it held any connection to the past. Just a puff piece for the neighbors.

Anticipating it had kept me up the night before, headlines running through my brain—“The Butcher of Hellene’s Daughter Follows in His Footsteps,” or “The Cleaver Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree.” But over the course of my life, lots of things had run through my brain that I’d chosen to ignore. This was no different.

“So,” Miles said as he laid the newsletter on the counter. “I got a call just before you walked in . . .”

“Why aren’t you finishing that thought?”

“Please don’t freak.”

“Fuck.” My jaw clenched in anticipation. “What is it?”

Miles walked closer and placed his large hand on my shoulder. “They want to do a piece on the shop in Food and Drink.” His smile grew exuberant.

“What? Why? That’s a national magazine.”

“Yes, it is. I guess someone knows someone who saw the article already. Anyway, they want to do a profile on the shop. Believe it or not, Daisy, this place has human-interest appeal. Didn’t you hear? You’re a woman, a woman butcher with her own shop, a rare breed indeed.” He was trying to keep things light.

I wasn’t buying it. “No. No more stories.”

“Daisy. This isn’t just about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stepped out of his hold.

He followed me as I pushed open the door behind the counter and walked into the back work area. “It’s just an article. They’ll ask why you became a butcher and how I became your apprentice. Then we’ll talk about the shop and that will be that.”

My eyes went wide. “And you don’t see the problem?”

“We’ll weave them the story they want to hear. Leave out the parts you want to. They won’t need your whole life story. Besides, most of the businesses they highlight are just small blurbs near the back. I’m sure that’s where we’ll be.”

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From The Butcher And The Liar by S. L. Woeppel. Copyright © 2025 by the author and reprinted by permission.

The Butcher And The Liar by S. L. Woeppel will be published September 16 2025 by Books Fluent and is available for pre-order from all good booksellers, including