Death by Coffee (23 page)

1

A steady beeping tried to drown out the gunfire and pounding of my own heart. Officer Paul Dalton lay atop me—fully dressed, unfortunately—as he shielded me from some unknown assailant who seemed to have an endless supply of ammo. I knew I should have been scared; but with him that close to me, I couldn’t think about anything but his firm muscles flexing as he held me, and those wonderful dimples of his that were even now creasing his cheeks. Even in the heart of danger, he could still find time to smile at me.

The beeping continued, louder, more insistent than before.

“Do you think it’s a bomb?” I asked as I dreamily stroked Paul’s bicep.

“No, Krissy, my love.” His smile was enough to make my head swim. “I think it’s an alarm.”

“An alarm?”

Panic flared through me as I surged from the dream and into the waking world, arms and legs flailing. My cat, Misfit, who had been sleeping next to me, was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor as I sat up, eyes darting to the clock, which read an alarming 8:31.

“Crapcicle!”

I practically fell out of the bed as I scrambled to my feet. There was no time for a shower, so I went straight for my closet, where I grabbed the first thing my hand fell upon. I was supposed to be at work at half past eight. Somehow I’d managed to oversleep my alarm by a good hour.

“Stupid dream,” I grumbled as I ripped off my pj’s, tossed them onto the floor, and scrambled into my clothes. I hopped my way into the kitchen on one foot as I tried to walk and slip on my shoes at the same time. Misfit was sitting next to his food bowl, watching me with a kitty grin.

“Enjoying this, are you?” I asked him. “Next time I’ll let you starve.” I filled his dish and he promptly buried his face in his bowl. The cat normally woke me up well before my alarm; yet this time I knew he’d intentionally let me sleep, more than likely because of something I’d done to him. He’s devious like that.

I looked longingly at my coffeepot before darting back down the hall and into the bathroom. My hair was sticking up in every which direction in massive tangles that would take hours to fix. Either I’d spent the night twisting and turning my head on the pillow, or Misfit had been at my hair with his tongue and claws again, kneading away. I swear that cat has it in for me.

I grabbed my brush from the drawer and yanked it through my hair a few times. When that didn’t work, I snatched up a hair tie and did my best to tame the mess on my head into a ponytail. It was uneven and lumpy, but it would have to do.

Next came a quick once-over with my toothbrush—there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to go out without at least making an attempt at brushing my teeth—and then it was back to the kitchen, where I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out the door. The curtains next door swished open as my neighbor Eleanor Winthrow leaned forward at her window seat to watch me. It was becoming a regular routine. The woman probably knew my schedule better than I did. She really needed a hobby other than spying on me.

I paid her little mind as I got into my black Focus, started the car, and backed wildly out of my driveway in a spray of dusty pavement. And then it was a mad rush to work, praying I didn’t come across one of the local cops along the way.

At least I wasn’t scheduled to open Death by Coffee today. My best friend, Vicki Patterson, and one of our new hires, Lena Allison, were scheduled for that, so the doors should already be open, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t like to be late, especially on a day like today when we were finally going to have Wi-Fi connectivity for our customers. It was a big day for us and I was going to show up for it smelling like I hadn’t showered—which I hadn’t.

I found a parking space just down the road from our shop. I made one last futile attempt to tame my hair and then headed down the sidewalk. I could see Lena hanging something on the front of the store. When she glanced up, I gave her an apologetic wave.

“Sorry,” I said, hurrying over. “My alarm didn’t go off.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“It’s cool.” Lena gave me a crooked smile. A fresh scrape on her chin told me she’d crashed her skateboard again. The poor girl was practically a living scab. She’d recently cut her hair short and dyed it from dark brown to something a little more wild. I had to admit, the purple really did bring out her eyes. “Everything’s taken care of.” She motioned to the
FREE WI-FI
sign now hanging in the window.

“Good.” I breathed deep, cringed at my pungent odor, and then hurried past Lena into Death by Coffee.

The combination bookstore and coffee shop was doing much better after a slow start. There’d been a murder and I’d somehow managed to solve it. Apparently, the people of Pine Hills enjoyed a little excitement every now and again, and I was viewed as something of a minor celebrity. It was the reason we were finally able to hire a couple of new employees rather than close up like I thought we would have to do. The money coming in wasn’t as good as I thought it would be, but at least it was enough so the workday wasn’t left totally up to Vicki and me.

I barely paid the nearly packed store any mind as I hurried behind the counter and into the office. My apron was hanging from a hook just inside the door. I grabbed it, threw it on around my neck, and then grabbed a spare bottle of cleaner. I sprayed the front of my apron a few times and sniffed. Satisfied it made me smell a little less ripe, I headed out to face the world.

Vicki was busy ringing up a book order upstairs. She gave me a quick wave before turning back to the customer, dazzling him with her million-dollar smile. She really should have been an actress—something her parents had pressed on her since she was little—but she’d chosen the life of a store owner, instead. She was wearing shorts today, showing off those legs of hers. I sighed and turned away, feeling even worse about myself than I had before, and found myself looking right into my dad’s smiling face.

Something akin to
“Gah!”
garbled its way out of my mouth. My hand went reflexively to my hair to smooth it down as I staggered back a couple of steps. I was about to start babbling explanations for my appearance and late arrival when I noticed Dad’s body was shiny and decidedly flat.

“Oh, I knew you’d approve!” Rita Jablonski, the resident gossip, said. She stepped around what was apparently a life-sized cardboard cutout of my dad.

“Approve of what?” My heart slowed down from its rapid pounding as I leaned on the counter. I loved my dad, I really did, but I didn’t want him showing up in Pine Hills unannounced, especially with Rita lurking about. He is a retired writer and Rita considers herself his number one fan. I didn’t want her to go all
Misery
on him.

Rita patted the fake James Hancock on the shoulder. “Of having him as your store mascot!” She just about swooned. “I hate not having him in my bedroom looking out for me at night, but I think he belongs here, don’t you?”

“He was in your bedroom?”

“Of course, dear.” She giggled in a way that made my stomach do a flip. It sounded bubbly, lustful, and just a little crazy. I
so
didn’t want to think about what she did with the cardboard cutout. “I was lying there this morning, looking at him, when I realized how fitting it would be to bring him in here. I mean, the store
is
named after one of his books, right? He belongs here. And what with having the book club meetings here, and us reading one of his books, it just made sense.”

“Wait, what?” My mind was unsuccessfully trying to catch up. I was still stuck on the fact she kept him in her bedroom. I mean,
ew.
“What book club?” And where had she gotten a cardboard cutout of my dad? I didn’t even know such a thing existed.

Rita waved a hand at me. “Oh, it’s no matter.” She glanced over her shoulder. Andi Caldwell and Georgina McCully—Rita’s elderly gossip buddies—were standing near the two stairs that led up to the bookstore portion of the store. They were beside a man and woman I didn’t know. “I best get over there,” she said. “It’s the first day, you know!”

She carried my dad over to the plate glass window and set him up so he could look out into the street before she walked over to where the others waited. Together they went upstairs, with me and my confusion forgotten.

I stood at the counter, staring dumbly at the cardboard cutout. “What just happened?”

“Rita happened.” Lena rolled her eyes as she stepped behind the counter. She walked over to the register to take an order.

Vicki came sauntering down the stairs and walked over to me then. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“I’m not sure.” I tore my eyes away from the cardboard Dad. “What’s going on?” I nodded toward where Rita and the others were talking with another group of five strangers.

Vicki glanced back before turning to me with a grin. “Rita asked if they could have their book club meeting here and I told her it would be okay. I figured it couldn’t hurt business. In fact, it will probably help. She brought a few chairs to set up in the bookstore so they won’t disrupt anything down here.” Vicki paused and frowned at my expression. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“I . . . Yeah.” I was still reeling from Rita’s assault and didn’t know what else to say. I mean, it wasn’t like having more people in the building was a bad thing. If they ordered coffee for their meetings, that could only help, right?

“Okay, good.” Vicki breathed a sigh of relief as she tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “She asked me on your day off and I didn’t want to call you and bother you with it. It seemed harmless enough, especially since you are a part of her writers’ group and all.”

“It’s okay.” And really, outside the cardboard Dad in the window, I didn’t mind it all that much. Rita practically lived here, anyway. She spent a large portion of her day, sitting in the corner of the store, typing away at her little pink notebook, torturing innocent prose.

Rita’s arms suddenly flew up into the air and she stamped her foot. She said something harsh to the man in front of her, who responded in kind. Georgina and Andi stood beside the two strangers behind Rita, while another four people I didn’t know stood behind the man Rita was yelling at. They were leaning forward as they argued, fists clenched, eyebrows bunched. It looked like a scene out of one of those movies where a pair of street gangs would argue, right before breaking out into song and dance.

“I think I best go up there and see what’s going on,” I said, slipping around the corner. I doubted Rita and her crew would be dancing any time soon; this fight looked as if it might actually come to blows.

“I’ll come with you,” Vicki said.

We marched across the store, leaving Lena to handle the register. She didn’t seem to mind. Ever since we hired her, she’d focused hard on her job. She might look like trouble with all of the scrapes and bruises, and now with the purple hair, but she was truly a good kid. I couldn’t have asked for better.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Rita said as we neared. “We agreed to the book months ago!” She waved a paperback copy of
Murder in Lovetown
in front of the man’s face. It was one of my dad’s earlier works, one that he was embarrassed of even today.

“We didn’t know you’d be holding the thing in a store named after the author!” the man practically shouted. He was about five and a half feet tall, weighed no more than 120 pounds, and parted his hair right down the middle in a vain attempt to conceal his rapidly retreating hairline. “We believe another book should be chosen.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Rita asked with a smug smile. “We’ve already started reading and have had the first of our local discussions.”

The man’s jaw clenched as he leaned forward and grabbed a silver teapot from the table in front of him. His fingers went white where he gripped it and I had a sudden vision of him whacking Rita upside the head with it. I rushed forward and snatched it out of his hand before anything unseemly could happen.

“Calm down, everyone,” I said, holding the teapot behind my back, out of everyone’s reach. I looked from face to face. “Anyone want to tell me what is going on?”

Rita straightened and thrust her impressive bust outward, practically poking the man in the eye. “Albert here doesn’t approve of where we are holding our meetings. He thinks we should read something else.”

“It gives you an unfair advantage!” Albert said at a near whine.

“Why
don’t
you read something else?” I asked. “Like Agatha Christie? She’s pretty popular.” And she wasn’t my dad.

“Pah!” Rita waved a hand dismissively at me. “It’s too late to make a change now.” Her gaze moved past Albert, to a man standing behind him. He was closely holding a woman wearing a pearl necklace and diamonds on her fingers, as if protecting her. “Besides,
they
are the ones who should be ashamed. There are rules to membership and
he
hasn’t lived in Cherry Valley long enough!” She nodded toward the man.

“Rules? Cherry Valley?”
I was operating at a loss once again.

Rita sighed and gave me a pitying look. “It’s simple, really. Each town’s team can have five members, but the members have to be a citizen of the town for at least one year before they can be an official part of the book club competition.”

“We talk about the book and whoever understands it and can articulate it best, wins the prize for their town,” Albert put in.

“Prize?”
I wanted to break out of my rut of asking one-word questions, so I added, “What prize?”

“The silver teapot, silly!” Rita said with a gesture to the teapot in my hand.

I looked at Vicki, who simply shrugged. Who’d ever heard of a book club competition? Without having to ask, I knew Rita had been the one to come up with it. No one else would have thought of something so . . . odd.