The Case of the Waffling Warrants
A Gossip Cozy Mystery Book 1
Rosie A. Point
Contents
Meet the Characters
A Quick Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
More for you…
Acknowledgments
Copyright Rosie A. Point 2021.
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Meet the Characters
Charlie Smith (Mission)—An ex-spy, Charlie lives and works in her grandmother’s inn in Gossip, Texas, as a server, maid, and assistant. With her particular set of skills and spunky attitude, she’s become Gossip’s “fixer” thanks to her previous involvement in solving murder mysteries.
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Georgina Franklin (Mission)—Charlie’s super-spy grandmother who raised her. Georgina (or Gamma, as Charlie calls her) is the most decorated spy in the history of the NSIB. She’s retired, but still as smart and spry as ever.
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Lauren Harris—The happy-go-lucky chef at the Gossip Inn. A master baker, she’s always got delicious cupcakes prepared for the inn’s lunches and dinners. She’s jolly, with bright red hair she wears in pigtails.
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Cocoa Puff—Georgina’s chocolate brown cat. He’s friendly as can be with people he trusts. Often sleeps on Charlie’s bed and accompanies her around the inn, helping her dust the various trinkets and tables.
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Sunlight—Charlie’s newly adopted cat and co-sleuth. A ginger kitty with an adventurous spirit. He loves to get up to mischief in the inn and always has Charlie’s back.
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Jessie Belle-Blue—Jessie is Georgina’s worst nightmare. As the owner of the local cattery and now, a guesthouse, she hates the fact that Georgina has opened a kitten foster center in direct competition. Will do whatever it takes to come out on top.
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Detective Aaron Goode—The new tough detective in town. He’s handsome, with dark hair, a strong jawline, and unflinching determination to get to the bottom of things. He doesn’t appreciate interferences.
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Tina Rogers—Owner of the Bread Factory, a bakery that made specialty breads in town, she’s recently fallen ill of the law and needs some help from Gossip’s fixer.
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Josie Carlson—Lauren’s sister, and owner of another local bakery that specializes in cakes, The Little Cake Shop. She’s blustery, full of herself, and enjoys bossing people around.
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Mandy Gilmore—The town gossip who recently returned to Gossip after a failed business venture. Staying at the inn. Has big opinions about everyone and everything.
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Opal Lister—A guest at the Gossip Inn, her house is currently being fumigated. She despises Mandy Gilmore and the gossipers of the town, even though she’s one herself.
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Bridget Willows—Head of the Gossip Sewing Club, she’s always willing to share tips and tricks with young men and women interested in taking up the hobby.
A Quick Note
This is a short summary of what’s happened prior to the events of the Gossip Series for those who haven’t read the Mission Inn-possible Series. This is meant to provide some context for new readers, but feel free to skip this page if you want to avoid spoilers and plan on reading the Mission Inn-possible Series in the future.
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Charlotte Mission, now Smith, originally came to hide out at the Gossip Inn to avoid attention from her rogue spy ex-husband, Kyle Turner. She had outed him to her agency, the NSIB (National Security Investigative Bureau), and he was determined to make her pay.
Thankfully, with the help of her retired spy grandmother, Georgina, she managed to solve several murders in the small town, Gossip, Texas, prevent mayhem, maintain her cover by the skin of her teeth, and see her ex-husband detained.
Charlie’s ready to retire and relax… or so she thinks.
1
“Come in, Big G, come in.” I spoke under my breath so that the flesh-colored microphone seated against my throat picked up my voice. “What is your status?”
My grandmother, Georgina—pet name Gamma, code name Big G—was out on a special operation. Reconnaissance at the newest guesthouse in our town, Gossip. The reason? First, she was an ex-spy, as was I, and second, the woman who’d opened the guesthouse was her mortal enemy and in direct competition with my grandmother’s establishment, the Gossip Inn.
Who was this enemy, this bringer of potential financial doom?
A middle-aged woman with a penchant for wearing pashminas and annoying anyone who looked her way.
Jessie Belle-Blue.
It was rumored that even thinking the woman’s name summoned a murder of crows.
“I repeat, Big G, what is your status?”
“I’m en route to the nest,” my grandmother replied in my earpiece.
I let out a relieved sigh and exited my bedroom, heading downstairs to help with the breakfast service.
In the nine months since I had retired as a spy, life in Gossip had been normal. In the Gossip sense of the term. I’d expected that my job as a server, maid, and assistant would bring the usual level of “cat herding” inherent when working at the inn. Whether that involved tracking down runaway cats, literally, or providing a guest with a moist towelette after a fainting spell—tempers ran high in Gossip.
What was the reason for the craziness? Shoot, it had to be something in the water.
I took the main stairs two at a time and found my friend, the inn’s chef, paging through her recipe book in the lime green kitchen. Lauren Harris wore her red hair in a French braid today, apron stretched over her pregnant belly.
“Morning,” I said, “how are you today?”
“Madder than a fat cat on a diet.” She slapped her recipe book closed and turned to me.
Uh oh. Looks like it’s time for more cat herding.
“What’s wrong?”
“My supplier is out of flour and sugar. Can you believe that?” Lauren huffed, smoothing her hands over her belly while the clock on the wall ticked away. Breakfast was in two hours and Lauren loved baking cupcakes as part of the meal.
“Do you have enough supplies to make cupcakes for this morning?”
“Yes. But just for today,” Lauren replied. “The guests are going to love my new waffle cupcakes, and they’ll be sore they can’t get anymore after this batch is done. Why, I should go down there and wring Billy’s neck for doing this to me. He knows I take an order of sugar and flour every week, and I get it at just above cost too. What’s Georgina going to say?”
“Don’t stress, Lauren,” I said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Right.” She brightened a little. �
��I nearly forgot you’re the one who “fixes” things around here.” Lauren winked at me.
She was the only person in the entire town who knew that my grandmother and I had once been spies for the NSIB—the National Security Investigative Bureau. But the news that I had helped solve several murders had spread through town, and now, anybody and everybody with a problem would call me up asking for help. A lot of them offered me money. And I was selective about who I chose to help.
“I’ll check it out for you if you’d like,” I said. “The flour issue.”
“Nah, that’s OK. I’m sure Billy will get more stock this week. I’ll lean on him until he squeals.”
“Sounds like you’ve been picking up tips from Georgina.”
Lauren giggled then returned to her super-secret recipe book—no one but she was allowed to touch it.
“What’s on the menu this morning?” I asked.
Lauren was the boss in the kitchen—she told me what to do, and I followed her instructions precisely. If I did anything else, like trying to read the recipe for instance, the food would end up burned, missing ingredients or worse.
The only place I wasn’t a “fixer” was in the Gossip Inn’s kitchen.
“Bacon and eggs over easy, biscuits and gravy, waffle cupcakes and… oh, I can’t make fresh baked bread, can I?”
“Tell her I’ll bring some back with me from the bakery.” Gamma’s voice startled me. Goodness, I’d forgotten about the earpiece—she could hear everything happening in the kitchen.
“I’ll text Georgina and ask her to bring bread from the bakery.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Charlotte.”
We set to work on the breakfast—it was 7:00 a.m. and we needed everything done within two hours—and fell into our easy rhythm of baking and cooking.
My grandmother entered the kitchen at around 8:30 a.m., dressed in a neat silk blouse and a pair of slacks rather than the black outfit she’d left in for her spy mission. Tall, willowy, and with neatly styled gray hair, Gamma had always reminded me of Helen Mirren playing the Queen.
“Good morning, ladies,” she said, in her prim, British accent. “I bring bread and tidings.”
“What did you find out?” I asked.
“No evidence of the supposed ghost tours,” Gamma said.
We’d started hosting ghost tours at the inn recently, so of course Jessie Belle-Blue wanted to do the same. She was all about under-cutting us, but, thankfully, the Gossip Inn had a legacy and over 1,000 positive reviews on TripAdvisor.
Breakfast time arrived, and the guests filled the quaint dining area with its glossy tables, creaking wooden floors, and egg yolk yellow walls. Chatter and laughter leaked through the swinging kitchen doors with their porthole windows.
“That’s my cue,” I said, dusting off my apron, and heading out into the dining room.
I picked up a pot of coffee from the sideboard where we kept the drinks station and started my rounds.
Most of the guests had gathered around a center table in the dining room, and bursts of laughter came from the group, accompanied by the occasional shout.
I elbowed my way past a couple of guests—nobody could accuse me of having great people skills—apologizing along the way until I reached the table. The last time something like this had happened, a murder had followed shortly afterward.
Not this time. No way.
“—the last thing she’d ever hear!” The woman seated at the table, drawing the attention, was vaguely familiar. She wore her dark hair in luscious curls, and tossed it as she spoke, looking down her upturned nose at the people around the table.
“What happened then, Mandy?” Another woman asked, her hands clasped together in front of her stomach.
Mandy? Wait a second, isn’t this Mandy Gilmore?
Gamma had mentioned her once before—Mandy was a massive gossip in town. Why wasn’t she staying at her house?
“What happened? Well, she ran off with her tail between her legs, of course. She’ll soon learn not to cross me. Heaven knows, I always repay my debts.”
“What, like a Lannister from Game of Thrones?” That had come from a taller woman with ginger curls.
“Shut up, Opal,” Mandy replied. “You have no idea what we’re talking about, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have the intelligence to comprehend it.”
The crowd let out various ‘oofs’ in response to that. The woman next to me clapped her hand over her mouth.
“You’re all talk, Gilmore.” Opal lifted a hand and yammered it at the other woman. “You act like you’re a threat, but we know the truth around here.”
“The truth?” Mandy leaned in, pressing her hands flat onto the tabletop, the crystal vase in the center rattling. “And what’s that, Opal, darling? I’d love to hear it.”
“That you’re a failure. You sold your house, left Gossip with your head in the clouds, told everyone you were going to become a successful businesswoman, and now you’re back. Back to scrape together the pieces of the life you have left.”
“Witch!” Mandy scraped her chair back.
“All right, all right,” I said, setting down the coffee pot on the table. “That’s enough, ladies. Everyone head back to their tables before things get out of hand.”
Both Opal and Mandy stared daggers at me.
I flashed them both smiles. “We wouldn’t want to ruin breakfast, would we? Lauren’s prepared waffle cupcakes.”
That distracted them. “Waffle cupcakes?” Opal’s brow wrinkled. “How’s that going to work?”
“Let’s talk about it at your table.” I grabbed my coffee pot and walked her away from Mandy. The crowd slowly dispersed, people muttering regret at having missed out on a show. The Gossip Inn was popular for its constant conflict.
If the rumors didn’t start here then they weren’t worth repeating. That was the mantra, anyway.
I seated Opal at her table, and she pursed her lips at me. “You shouldn’t have interrupted. That woman needs a piece of my mind.”
“We prefer peace of mind at the inn.” I put up another of my best smiles.
Compared to what I’d been through in the past—hiding out from my rogue spy ex-husband and eventually helping put him behind bars when he found me—dealing with the guests was a cakewalk.
“What brings you to Gossip, Opal?” I asked.
“I live here,” she replied, waspishly. “I’m staying here while they’re fumigating my house. Roaches.”
“Ah.” I struggled not to grimace. Thankfully, my cell phone buzzed in the front pocket of my apron and distracted me. “Coffee?”
“I don’t take caffeine.” And she said it like I’d offered her an illegal substance too.
“Call me if you need anything.” I hurried off before she could make good on that promise, bringing my phone out of my pocket.
I left the coffee pot on the sideboard, moving into the Gossip Inn’s spacious foyer, the chandelier overhead off, but catching light in glimmers. The tables lining the hall were filled with trinkets from the days when the inn had been a museum—an eclectic collection of bits and bobs.
“This is Charlotte Smith,” I answered the call—I would never get to use my true last name, Mission, again, but it was safer this way.
“Hello, Charlotte.” A soft, rasping voice. “I’ve been trying to get through to you. I’m desperate.”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Tina Rogers, and I need your help.”
“My help.”
“Yes,” she said. “I understand that you have a certain set of skills. That you fix people’s problems?”
“I do. But it depends on the problem and the price.” I didn’t have a set fee for helping people, but if it drew me away from the inn for long, I had to charge. I was technically a consultant now. Sort of like a P.I. without the fedora and coffee-stained shirt.
“My mother will handle your fee,” Tina said. “I’ve asked her to text you about it, but I… I don’t have long to talk.
They’re going to pull me off the phone soon.”
“Who?”
“The police,” she replied. “I’m calling you from the holding cell at the Gossip Police Station. I’ve been arrested on false charges, and I need you to help me prove my innocence.”
“Miss Rogers, it’s probably a better idea to invest in a lawyer.” But I was tempted. It had been a long time since I’d felt useful.
“No! I’m not going to a lawyer. I’m going to make these idiots pay for ever having arrested me.”
I took a breath. “OK. Before I accept your… case, I’ll need to know what happened. You’ll need to tell me everything.” I glanced through the open doorway that led into the dining room. No one looked unhappy about the lack of service yet.
“I can’t tell you everything now. I don’t have much time.”
“So give me the CliffsNotes.”
“I was arrested for breaking into and vandalizing Josie Carlson’s bakery, The Little Cake Shop. Apparently, they found my glove there—it was specially embroidered, you see—but it’s not mine because—” The line went dead.
“Hello? Miss Rogers?” I pulled the cellphone away from my ear and frowned at the screen. “Darn.”
The Case of the Waffling Warrants Page 1
