Death by Coffee (9 page)

“Don’t you?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t it seem funny to you that he would forget his EpiPen the very day he comes in contact with peanuts?” I remembered the conversation he’d had with Heidi. “I’m sure you’ve thought the same.”

He nodded and then frowned. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Why would anyone kill him?”

“You tell me,” I said. “Who would have a reason to kill your brother?”

I thought Mason might tell me something right then. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead shook his head. “Whatever,” he said. “Just . . . just stop bothering us.” He looked troubled as he ran his hands over his face.

Mason was trying hard to keep it together, but I saw the doubt in his eyes, saw the pain in the bunch of his shoulders. He’d been affected by his brother’s death, but didn’t want to show it. I didn’t know if they’d gotten along or not, but it had to bother him to think that someone might have actually killed Brendon.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” I said, touching Mason’s arm. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to look into his eyes in the hopes I might see something there that would reassure me he had nothing to do with his brother’s death. I wanted to believe him innocent. There was something about the man that told me he was a gentle soul, though right now it was buried beneath the stress of what had happened.

Instead of looking at me, he gave a sad, wry laugh and looked toward the sky. “I’m really not so sure it was much of a loss. Brendon wasn’t anyone’s friend. I only tolerated him because he was my brother and was married to Heidi.”

Did that mean he was interested in Heidi? They’d looked awfully close when I’d seen them together. There was absolutely no way I was going to ask him about that. At least, not yet, anyway.

“Still,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Mason actually gave me a brief smile. “It’s okay. We’re all just a little uptight right now. I’m sorry if I’ve been short with you.”

We stood there, neither really sure what to say or do next. I really wanted to believe Mason could have had nothing to do with his brother’s death; but standing here with him, I just couldn’t make myself believe it. He clearly wasn’t Brendon’s biggest fan and he obviously had access to the office building. Could he have worked with Heidi and slipped some ground peanuts into Brendon’s coffee while he wasn’t looking?

Someone had called Brendon back to his office that day. Perhaps knowing who would point directly to the killer.

I forced a smile, afraid I might actually be standing right beside a murderer. Just because I was starting to like the guy didn’t mean I could remove him from the list of suspects. “I best get back,” I said, gesturing toward Death by Coffee. I could just make Vicki out where she stood behind the counter, watching me. At least if Mason made a move toward me, she’d see it and would be able to call the cops for me.

“Yeah.” Mason glanced back toward the building we’d just exited. “I suppose I should go, too. There’s no reason to go back in today.”

“See you around?”

He nodded absently before turning and walking away.

A small part of me wanted to follow him to see if he was going to report back to Heidi or someone else who could be involved in Brendon’s death. Maybe he was simply heading to his car. Or perhaps he had somewhere else to be. I wouldn’t know for sure unless I followed him.

I took a step in Mason’s direction and then remembered Vicki. If I ran off now, she’d never forgive me. We might not be busy, but I still had a job to do.

I turned away from the retreating Mason with a frustrated sigh. My eyes fell on our storefront, at the big sign above the door that showed a large steaming cup of coffee, sitting atop an open book. The words
DEATH BY COFFEE
were written in white froth within the cup. With a groan I shook my head at the inappropriate name and headed back to work.

9

“I got you something.”

Misfit jumped off the table to wind himself around my legs. I snatched him up and rubbed my face into his fur before carrying both him and my purse to the island counter. I plopped them down beside each other. Without waiting for an invitation, he shoved his face into the opening and rifled around my purse in search of whatever I’d brought him.

Knowing he’d eventually find it, I pulled off my shoes and carried them into the bedroom. My feet ached from chasing Mason across the street. Okay, maybe working long hours standing behind a counter had something to do with it, but I liked to think my pain had more of a reason to exist than simply manual labor.

Vicki had been angry with me when I’d gotten back to the store, but her ire had been short-lived. She was one of those people who could never stay angry even if they tried. After about ten minutes of sulking, she was asking me if I’d found anything out before warning me off interfering too much. After a few minutes of that, she was off working on selling a romance series to an elderly man.

Even though she’d forgiven me for running off on her, I still felt bad. Instead of buying her a gift, however, I ended up getting Misfit something. It might not have been the right solution, but it made me feel a little better, anyway.

I tossed my shoes into the closet, stripped out of my work clothes, and got dressed into my pj’s. I had no intention of leaving the house again for the rest of the night. I’d had a long day and I wasn’t about to make it longer.

Misfit had my purse on its side and over half of the contents strewn across the counter when I returned to the kitchen. He was on the floor, dutifully ripping into the tiny packet of catnip I’d bought him at a little pet store around the corner from Death by Coffee. I purposefully didn’t look at the name of the place, fearing what the owner had come up with. I was sure it would be something horrible like Jet’s Pets, Pat’s Cats, or, worse, Kitty’s Titties.

The cat eyed me warily as I approached, as if he thought I might steal his catnip. I gave him a wide berth, knowing I could lose a few toes if I got too close. Misfit was mean when he was high on the nip. It was one of the reasons I never got another cat. The poor thing would never stand a chance.

“Don’t eat it all in one sitting,” I said, knowing he’d do just that. I was
so
going to regret buying him the catnip. The hair balls would be a nightmare.

I took the long way around to the island counter and went about putting things back into my purse. At least he hadn’t broken anything getting into it this time. I’d half expected to come back to find the purse itself torn into tiny little shreds. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

I picked up a card and was about to shove it into my purse when I realized what it was. I’d completely forgotten about the number Patricia had given me. I should have thrown the thing away.

Then again, would it be so bad to at least make the call? It might make Patricia happy, even if nothing came of it. Maybe if she liked me, she might confide in me about the case.

“Do you think I should call?” I asked Misfit. He glared at me with one eye before attacking the packet of catnip with renewed vigor.

I truly had planned on throwing the card away, but maybe fate had stepped in. Perhaps it was some cosmic sign, pushing me into a direction that would help make my life complete. It was better to think that than to believe I was absentminded enough to forget to toss something into the trash mere seconds after deciding I was going to do just that.

My mind conjured up an image of a guy sitting alone in his mother’s basement, playing a computer game or perhaps reading a comic book while he waited for my call. He’d ask me about dragons and superheroes and would want me to wait for him while he watched the latest episode of
Doctor Who.

Now, I didn’t have anything against people like that; they just weren’t my type. I needed someone who could keep my mind focused so I wouldn’t go running off every time a mystery presented itself. Give me someone who wanted to dress up and play pretend and I very well might end up running around town in a deerstalker hat, calling everyone “Watson.” If I kept going the way I was going, someone was bound to notice and stop me—the murderer, perhaps.

I bit my lip and looked at the phone. All it would take was one call. What could it hurt? I could tell him his mom tried to set us up and leave it at that. If nothing came of it, it wasn’t like I’d been all that interested, to begin with. Rejection here hurts no one.

“I’m going to do it,” I told Misfit as I reached for my cell phone. Just as I touched it, it started ringing.

I blinked at it.
Another cosmic sign?
I answered it without bothering to check the screen.

I really wish I would have.

“Hello?”

“Krissy? Where in the hell are you?”

A mental door slammed closed. I went utterly still, barely daring to breathe. If I spoke, then he would know I was there.

Too late,
a little voice in the back of my head said.
He already knows.

“What do you want, Robert?” I asked, speaking as calmly as I could manage. Deep breaths. I just needed to take deep breaths and not let my anger show through.

“What do you think I want? I want you to come back home. You need me.”

I ground my teeth together. Deep breaths weren’t working. “I need you to leave me alone. I changed my number for a reason.” I was going to kill whoever gave him my new cell phone number.

“Come on, Krissy. You know you can’t handle living without me.”

“Ugh!” I just about threw the phone across the room. If I wasn’t afraid of breaking it and having to buy a new one, I might have. “I’m doing just fine without you, thank you very much. Now, can I please forget you ever existed?”

“Aw, come on,” he said. “Just tell me where you are. I’ll come out and we can talk things through.”

“We’ve tried that before.” I knew I should just hang up, but there was still a faint part of me that cared. I actively hated that part. “I’m done, okay? Go back to your college girls and leave me alone.”

“Damn it, Krissy. Quit being such a b—”

I didn’t let him finish. I pressed the END button and then quickly blocked his number before he could call back. I should have done that long before now. I
so
didn’t need his drama in my life anymore.
Been there, done that.
It was time to move on.

Misfit was lying on the floor, breathing heavily. The cardboard and the plastic package were torn into bits and were soaking wet. There were a few sprinkles of catnip on the floor. Most of it was in his fur. I was going to have to give him a bath or he’d be gnawing on it for days.

Right then, I didn’t have the energy for it. “Tomorrow,” I told him, “you are getting a good solid bath.” His head moved a fraction of an inch before he continued his catnip-induced coma.

I started to shove the card back into my purse, but hesitated. After Robert’s call, I wanted nothing to do with men of any sort; yet I couldn’t let this go. Robert was certain I’d find no one else. Maybe his call was a sign to remind me that if I didn’t do this, he very well might end up being right.

“I’ll show him.”

Before I could change my mind, I dialed the number on the card. My heart was pounding and my ears were actually ringing. It felt like I was calling a boy for the very first time.

Before things had gone south, I’d been with Robert for two years. I’d been single for a few years before that and single since. I’d barely gone on a half-dozen dates before Robert and definitely hadn’t gone on any after.

Man, was I pathetic or what?

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

I couldn’t speak. I knew that voice. I’d just heard it the other day.

“Is anyone there?”

“Uh, hi,” I said, licking my suddenly dry lips. “It’s Krissy Hancock. From the shop. Death by Coffee.”
Ugh!
I was back to speaking in three-word sentences.
Kill me now.

“Krissy?” Officer Paul Dalton’s silky smooth voice slipped over the line. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh . . . no,” I said. “Your mom gave me your number.” My head thumped against the island counter as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He laughed. “Sounds like her.” He paused. “I am glad you called, though. Most girls run screaming in the other direction when she does that.”

Most girls?
How many girls did Mommy think were right for him? Maybe I wasn’t so special, after all.

“Well, I’m not most other girls.”
God, that sounds dumb. Why do I turn into such a moron when talking to him?
This was clearly not the best way to get a date.

“No, you’re definitely not.”

My breath caught in my throat.
What does that mean? Is it a compliment? Am I scaring him off?
I really wished I had the ability to read minds so I knew whether or not I should be jumping up and down in joy or crying softly in a corner.

“I’m sorry to have called you, out of nowhere.” Another thought hit me. “Are you on the beat?” I rolled my eyes.
Do they even call it “the beat” anymore? Dumber and dumber . . .

“You’re fine,” he said with a laugh. “I’m home. And really, I don’t mind that you called. In fact, I’m just happy Mom managed to get it right this time.”

I made a little squeaking sound. I tried to cover my mouth with my hand before it snuck out, but I was too late.

“Did you step on a mouse?” he asked, deadpan serious.

The only thing that could have made that moment worse was if he’d been standing right there. My face was so red, I could feel the heat radiating off me.
Can I please die now?

Paul chuckled. “I’m just teasing you.” He was silent a moment before going on. “You know, if you want to continue this conversation some other time, I’m open to it.”

“Are you serious?” I smacked myself upside the head. One day I was going to think before I spoke, though thinking was hard right about then. Could he really be interested in me? Or was I just reading too much into an innocent conversation?

“Of course, I am.” He laughed again. “You interest me.”

“Even though I might be a murder suspect?”

Okay, that was it. I was going to permanently ban my mouth from running before my brain could catch up. What did I want to do, screw up my chances for a date by saying as many stupid things as I could in the shortest amount of time possible? Did they have an award for that? Even Misfit glanced at me at the last one.

Officer Dalton was silent for so long, I was positive he was reconsidering his offer. What would it look like if he went on a date with a suspect in what could possibly be a murder? He might lose his job and I’d somehow become the prime suspect. The media would be all over how I’d come on to him in a way to throw suspicion off myself or . . .

I clamped down on that line of thought. I was pretty sure that was the storyline to one of Dad’s mysteries.

“I don’t see how you could be,” he said. “There’s no evidence of a murder in Pine Hills, unless you’re confessing to one?”

“I’m not,” I said, relieved.

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll see me?”

“Sure,” I said after my silent little squeal of joy.

“Tomorrow night sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll pick you up at, let’s say . . . seven?”

“Okay.” Broken record? Me? Never. “Let me give you my address.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a laugh. “I already have it.”

Of course, he did. His mom probably
had
run a background check on me and had passed on the information to him.

There was a moment of silence where I wasn’t sure whether I should be flattered or upset. If that’s what had happened, he knew more about me than I did him. That wasn’t fair!

“So . . . ,” he said, drawing out the word, “see you tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

We disconnected and I just about melted into a puddle beside the nearly comatose cat.

I was actually going on a date. With a cute guy. One who’d asked
me
out. I might have been the one to call him, but he’d been the one to do the asking. That definitely counted.

I had to call Vicki.

I snatched up the phone and dialed her number. She answered, sounding half asleep.

“Guess what?” I asked, all but bubbling over with excitement.

“You’re pregnant?”

“What? No.” I rolled my eyes. I should have seen that one coming. “I have a date!”

We spent the next ten minutes gushing over Officer Paul Dalton and his oh-so-sexy dimples. By the time I hung up, I was so giggly, I forgot about Misfit’s catnip high. I scooped him up off the floor and spun him in a circle. Claws flashed out and he squirmed in my arms as if his life depended on it. I managed to set him down on the counter before losing any skin. He gave me a threatening glare before leaping down. He ran out of the room, fur and catnip flying in his wake.

I had a date. I actually had a date.

A horrible retching sound came from what sounded like my bedroom. I was guessing I’d find the pile on my pillow.

But oddly, I wasn’t bothered by it. With a shrug I grabbed the paper towels, a can of Spot Shot, and headed to my bedroom to clean up the mess. Right then, even Misfit’s catnip-laced hair ball couldn’t bring me down.