A Cup of Murder
Authors: Cam Larson
A Cup of Murder
A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery
by
Cam Larson
www.EscapeInk.com
This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to
actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This
ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may
not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share
this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
each person you share it with.
Copyright
©
2014
EscapeInk.com
.
All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or
portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced
in any form without the express written permission of the author.
Version
2015.01.12
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Cam
Larson's Other Books:
Roasted
Love Cozy Mystery Series
!
Hot
Coffee, Iced Santa
Coconut Chronicles –
Almost Tropical Mystery
|
|
Coming Soon...
Coconut Chronicles: Ransom
Chapter One
I
didn't realize I was zoning out until I spilled the latte I was
pushing toward a customer. Staring out the window of Roasted Love, I
was focused on the rival coffee shop across the street that just
opened recently. The man who opened the Sunrise Coffee Shop door
turned and caught my eye. He glared at me where I stood. I tried to
convince myself it was his striking blond hair and his slim build
that drew my eyes to him. But in reality, it was more likely his
arrogant manner, much less appealing, that had a way of drawing me to
our number one enemy. He had a massive Doberman beside him that
seemed to exhibit the same attitude. I looked away quickly when I
caught the dog's ferocious look that displayed sharp teeth. He and
his master fit well together.
Jacob Weaver, my boss, noticed my fixation on the
rival coffee house across the street. I jumped when I heard his fist
slam the counter. “The nerve of that Simms guy,” he said loudly.
“He’s taking our customers away from us. Chains like Sunrise
serve mediocre coffee at best and yet he is a thief who thinks his
good looks are all it takes to run me out of business.”
He slammed his knuckles against the counter once
again. The few customers in Roasted Love Coffee House glanced at the
owner with trepidation. Two of them looked across the street at the
pretentious sign flashing ‘Sunrise’ and I didn’t miss their
looks of yearning. I quickly pulled Jacob back to the kitchen. The
fact he had served time for assault eleven years ago was a well-known
fact around West River, New York. Deep down I knew some day his
temper would cause that fact to come back to haunt him. This day was
one of those rare moments I came close to understanding how a burst
of anger must have caused the past assault charge.
“I can’t help it, Laila,” said Jacob. “We’ve
got to do something about that man. He’s not only ruining my
business on purpose but did you see the gaudy look to that shop? He’s
making a mockery of the architecture on this street.”
I knew the architecture didn’t concern Jacob as
much as his nemesis but I did see how Sunrise stood out. The rest of
the shops along the Piazza strip sported the looks of Italy, held
over from early Italian immigrants who built their businesses along
the way. In recent years neighborhood revitalization entered and now
held a mix of varied nationalities. A younger set added to the
population and put life back into the area. One thing that drew me to
want a job at Roasted Love was its unique décor. The coffee shop’s
artistic appeal invited everyone to sit at leisure and enjoy the
variety of coffee flavors along with the environment.
Jacob believed in supporting local artists and
their works. They often hosted their work at the shop and that drew
in customers quite well. The handcrafted ceramic coffee mugs and
matching dishes added to the overall feel of welcome. It had always
been a place that brought friends and strangers together. If a
customer didn’t know someone he or she sat down with, by the time
they left they were friends. Jacob encouraged everyone to get to know
each other by choosing a chair rather than their own table.
Sunrise certainly drew attention with its
irregularly shaped sign that hung over the door. The windows were
splashed with caricatures of people sipping various flavors of
beverages. The whole outside appearance of Sunrise was definitely in
contrast to the rest of the businesses around it, but I kind of liked
it. I kept that opinion to myself and vowed to never let it slip out
of my mouth to anyone, especially to the owner of Roasted Love.
“I mean it, Laila, he has to go,” said my
boss. “He doesn’t understand soul when it comes to running
businesses in this neighborhood. He will never fit in.”
His face morphed into a deeper shade of red if
that was possible. I wondered where he kept his blood pressure pills,
but I had to calm him down first. I sighed and took a quick look at
my watch. It was no wonder I couldn’t get dates. By the time I
slaved in this coffee house and made it home, dead on my feet, no one
would want to take a second look at me. Feeling sorry for myself
crept in at times like this when the clock ticked past my shift. I
swung back to the matter at hand and gave a rueful smile toward the
man I couldn’t help but love. His balding head glistened with
moisture.
I brushed loose strands of long russet hair from
my face that threatened to destroy the ponytail that I meticulously
swept together that morning. I recalled the day Jacob gave me this
job. I had no experience but he told me later it was something about
my long flowing hair that he deemed/accented the color of coffee that
made him hire me. At the time I didn’t think that was a valid
reason but whatever it took, something landed me the job I wanted. I
learned quickly and rose to Barista at Roasted Love. At times like
this, sympathy for the thirty-eight year old man stole a piece of me.
As aggressive as his temper could rise up, the same held true for his
flashes of warmth. Until Michael Simms appeared on the Piazza,
Jacob’s teddy bear character was more his norm.
“Just calm down, Jacob,” I said. “Sunrise
will become a coffee house that people will tire of and come back to
you. It’s only a novelty for the neighborhood now. You own this
shop. His is a franchise like so many others that will never rise to
our standards here when it comes to coffee.”
Where that assurance came from I had no idea. The
fact was Michael Simms projected enough innovative ideas of how
coffee could taste, that it would take a while before his place
reached the ho-hum stage. Not only did he have ideas, but he and his
Barista, Jen Perry knew how to turn dreams into reality. A handful of
my regulars, though, told me that for all the varied flavors Sunrise
offered, none compared to Roasted Love’s coffee. I hoped others
felt that way and those we were losing would soon drift back. I noted
more male customers flocked to Sunrise which had a lot to do with
twenty-two year old Jen’s appearance. Her sandy brown hair had a
way of flipping when she quickly turned to greet customers with her
penetrating hazel eyes. Her curves didn’t hurt any either. Michael
Simms knew what he was doing.
“You need to get home, Laila,” said Jacob. He
realized my day had ended at least thirty minutes earlier. “I’m
sorry I kept you late.”
“All right, Jacob, but please calm down.”
I reminded my boss to hold his temper, especially
when customers were in the coffee house. I knew Michael Simms wasn’t
the only vendor on the block running our clientele from Roasted Love
to Sunrise coffee house. Some of our customers were beginning to look
at Jacob in a different way. There were times I was convinced that a
certain doubt and fear crossed their faces. Jacob had done a stint in
jail, and it came to mind quickly when he lashed out in anger. His
outbursts occurred more than just on occasion, and they all had to do
with his competition across the street.
“You shouldn’t be spouting off like that
around customers,” I said. “It’s all right if you want to do
that with me, but just remember it will hurt more than help if you
let everyone within blocks hear you.”
Speaking like this was something I chalked up to
my long day. He gave me a lopsided grin and nodded his agreement. “I
mean it, Jacob. Our patrons are picking up on your anger and if you
don’t watch it, your attitude will cause more of them to go across
the street.”
I peeled my apron off and pitched it into the
laundry basket at the other end of the kitchen. I let my hair down
from the ponytail and re-applied light make-up. This latter was habit
in case I met someone significant on my way home. So far, that hadn’t
happened, but I could be as tenacious as the next person. Strolling
through Roasted Love, I headed for the front door before I remembered
I had left my cell phone on the counter in back when talking with
Jacob. He caught me and sheepishly handed it to me. The teddy bear
had returned.
