Death by Espresso

by Alex Erickson

  Always extravagant, always fun, Jules had become one of my best friends in Pine Hills.

  I drifted over to the caramels and bought a bag for myself, and then one for Dad and Laura to share. I carried them to the counter, fighting the urge to rip into my bag as I did. Jules rang me up, whistling a jovial tune under his breath.

  “How’s the candy for the wedding coming?” I asked, looking around the brightly colored store. Chutes of candy lined the walls where there weren’t bins and shelves of candy. Bright colors seemed to leap out at me from every corner. My teeth ached just looking at all the sugar. I was lucky I hadn’t grown up where there was a place like this in town or else I would have been toothless by the time I was ten. Phantastic Candies was any child’s dream.

  “Very well, I think.” Jules took my money, made change, and handed over the candy. “I can take you to the back and show you, if you’d like.”

  I’d always been curious about the back room of Phantastic Candies, especially since I knew Jules made some specialty candy on site. Usually, there was a spot up front for the chocolates made in house, but since he was working on the candy for Vicki’s wedding, it was looking unusually spare.

  “Sure,” I said, daydreaming of something that would look akin to Willy Wonka’s factory. “I’d love that.”

  Jules led me through a bright green door, into the mysterious back room. An air-conditioning unit that was running overtime kept the room extremely cold. It almost felt like I’d stepped into a refrigerator, and I suppose it was necessary since Vicki’s candies were laid out on sheets that sat atop a long metal table.

  There were no crazy vats or anything, which was expected, but the small child in me was somewhat disappointed. Something so magically delicious should be made with much more flair.

  “I didn’t want them to melt,” he explained, seeing me shiver from the cold. “It’s been so hot lately, I was afraid the lettering wouldn’t hold up. The electric bill is going to be outrageous, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

  I leaned over the table. The chocolates were slightly smaller than the palm of my hand. Each had a stylized “V” and “M” in the middle. They kind of looked like large M&Ms.

  “I used a homemade crème filling,” Jules went on as he opened an actual refrigerator, adding to the chill. He removed a bowl and held it out to me. “Try it.”

  He needn’t ask me twice. I snatched a spoon from a nearby counter and dipped it into the crème filling.

  “She asked for raspberry, so I hope you like it.”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I stuck the spoon in my mouth and was overwhelmed with a burst of the mouth-watering flavor of raspberries. I very nearly sank to the floor in bliss.

  “Do you like it?” Jules asked, a knowing smile on his face.

  All I could do was nod, before I handed over the spoon. If I held on to it much longer, I’d probably end up eating the entire bowl of filling. I’d regret it later, but it would be so worth it.

  “I still have a few more to make to be sure I have enough,” he said, returning the bowl to the fridge. “Inevitably, a few will melt or break, so I always make a few extra.”

  “You might want to add to your totals,” I said. Looking at the candies laid out on the table, I was pretty sure there would be enough, even with the Pattersons’ friends. But it was always best to be safe, and if I could possibly sneak a few of the candies away for myself, all the better.

  “Oh?” Jules asked. He sounded nervous, like he expected me to tell him he’d done something wrong and would have to start anew.

  “We have some . . . unexpected guests,” I said, putting it as nicely as I could. “About two or three too many.”

  “I heard!” Jules leaned against the wall, his worry turning to concern. “One of them died, didn’t they?”

  “She did.”

  “Terrible. Absolutely terrible.” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t understand why all these horrible things have been happening lately. It’s as if the entire world has gone insane and upended itself for no good reason.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered. Not only were bad things happening in Pine Hills all the time now, they seemed to consistently happen around me.

  “I think I met the woman once,” he said.

  “Really? Did she come here?” It wouldn’t surprise me. In my book, Phantastic Candies should be on everyone’s list of places to visit before they die.

  “No.” Jules shuddered, and I don’t think it was from the cold. “Let’s go back out front. It’s chilly in here and the topic of conversation only makes it worse.”

  I fully agreed.

  We returned to the front of the store, just as a pair of teenagers who were entangled with one another in what was quite clearly young love, stepped up to the counter. Jules excused himself long enough to ring them up before joining me again.

  “I guess I shouldn’t say I met her, but I did see her. Lance and I were trying out the new restaurant in town, Geraldo’s, just the other day.” He paused, as if remembering. “Have you been there yet?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I’ll be going tonight, though.”

  “It’s fantastic.” Jules’s eyes went distant briefly. “The food is great, and the atmosphere is just right. Though, I’ll admit, the owner doesn’t much look like the Geraldo from TV.”

  And that was a good thing in my book.

  “Anyway, we were there, eating, when an argument broke out a few tables away. I didn’t know who the two people were at first, but Lance recognized the man as an actor in a cheesy movie he liked.”

  “What was the actor’s name?” I asked.

  Jules tapped his chin and frowned. “I can’t recall. I don’t even remember the name of the movie. Lance was the fan, and honestly, we were both too busy looking at his physique to pay attention to much else. He might not be the world’s best actor, but he sure does look the part.” He laughed at my shocked expression. “What? It’s okay to look, just as long as you don’t touch.”

  I supposed that was true. I mean, even though I have a boyfriend of my own, I’ve been known to let my eye wander, as I’m sure Will has. It’s human nature.

  “Can you describe him?” I asked, though I thought I already knew who he was referring to. Only one of the actors who’d come with the Pattersons had the sort of physique he was describing.

  “Good-looking. Penetrating eyes. When he smiles, he dazzles.” Jules sighed. “Lance took me home that night and showed me a clip from the movie. He spends a good portion of it shirtless. The actor—not Lance.” He chuckled.

  “Jacques Kenway?” I asked as a mental image of the man popped into my mind—shirtless, much to my chagrin.

  Jules snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I think the movie Lance knew him from was The Pirate Heist. It was rather silly, when you think about it, but we weren’t watching it for the acting or the plot, which didn’t make much sense, to be honest.”

  I bet. “And he was with Cathy Carr? At the restaurant, not in the movie.”

  “I do believe so.” Jules thought about it some more, and then nodded. “It was definitely her. I saw her picture on the news, and I’d swear it was the same woman.”

  “Do you know what they were arguing about?” If Jacques had been arguing with Cathy before her death, it could very well be the reason she’d ended up dead.

  “Sorry, I don’t. It was pretty busy, and even when they were yelling, they kept their voices low enough I couldn’t make anything out. The man, Jacques, slapped the table so hard, the dishes rattled. It’s what drew our eye in the first place. All I know for sure is he was angry, as was the woman.”

  Interesting. Other than their friendship to the Pattersons, I didn’t know of anything that connected the two. Had something new come up, a rift between them that caused the fight? Or, like the Herrons, had Jacques had a prior grievance with Cathy that could have spilled over to genuine anger?

  “What happened then?” I asked, wondering if anyone actually lik
ed Cathy, outside Gina and Frederick.

  “Nothing much. They realized they were drawing attention to themselves, and calmed down. After only a few more minutes, Jacques stormed away, leaving Ms. Carr to dine alone. I’m not sure she ate much after he was gone, and since the eye candy had left, Lance and I turned our attention back to our own table, so she might have left soon after. I didn’t actually see her go.”

  The door opened and a gaggle of kids swarmed inside, spilling throughout the store like a bunch of rambunctious ping-pong balls. That was my cue to go.

  “Thanks, Jules. You’ve been a big help. I’ll let Vicki know the candies are turning out great.”

  “I can’t wait to see how everyone likes them.”

  I hurried out before I could get caught in the swarm, and carried my caramels to the car. As soon as I was seated, I tore into my own bag, popping one into my mouth and chewing while I mentally reviewed what I knew.

  First, there was Lyric Granderson. She thought the necklace Gina had tried to give to Vicki should belong to her instead. She could have gone to Vicki’s place to confront Gina and take back what she thought rightfully belonged to her. Instead of Gina, she’d gotten into a confrontation with the overly caffeinated Cathy, and killed her, likely in a fit of rage.

  But if she had killed her, why not take the necklace? Or had she, leaving the fake behind? If that was the case, then this whole thing was premeditated, or at least the theft was.

  And then there were the Herrons. They’d once used Cathy’s services and were unsatisfied, though I wasn’t sure why. They fought with her before their flight to Pine Hills, once more bringing up the old grievance. Could the frustrations and anger have boiled over until one or the both of them decided to get payback for a ruined wedding?

  Finally, we have Jacques Kenway, a good-looking actor who had apparently fought with Cathy the day of her death. But why? Could it have something to do with Lyric and the necklace? The Herrons? Something else entirely? I wouldn’t know until I talked to him, and even then, nothing said he would actually tell me what they’d fought about.

  There was still the possibility Cathy’s death was an accident, or perhaps the other guest, Vince Conner, could have had a reason to kill her, which would make for pretty much the entire Californian crew having some grievance against her.

  A worrying thought crept through me then. What if one of Vicki’s parents had killed Cathy? They were both pretty strict when it came to what they wanted. If she’d screwed something up, or said the wrong thing, or even tried to take the necklace for herself, one of them might have hit her out of frustration, and then panicked when she’d choked.

  But they had been out getting dinner when it had happened, right? Or had they left after killing her to give themselves an alibi? It was awfully convenient of them to come home just when I’d discovered the body.

  I shook off the thought. I refused to believe either of the Pattersons could be involved in a murder, just as I refused to believe Vicki or Mason could have done it. No, it had to be one of the others.

  Still, I thought it might be a good idea to learn the estimated time of death to clear them for good. I just wasn’t sure how I’d get it without going to Paul, who would give me one of his patented sighs and lectures about not getting involved in his murder investigations.

  I drove home, playing over all the scenarios, chewing away at my caramels. It wasn’t until I pulled into my driveway that I realized all wasn’t well at Casa Hancock.

  Eleanor Winthrow was standing outside her house, staring toward mine. When I got out of my car, she shook her head, an amused smile on her face, before she shuffled slowly back inside her own house.

  I groaned inwardly as I grabbed the caramels and closed the car door. Dad and Laura were home; their rental was sitting right where it had been when I’d left earlier that morning.

  But behind them was another car.

  A car I recognized.

  I peered inside the backseat of the familiar car to find a clutter of romance novels and a little pink laptop tossed carelessly among them. I half-expected to find a cardboard cutout of my dad looking back at me, but it appeared that had been left at home.

  “This can’t be good,” I muttered. Then, steeling myself for yet another disaster, I started for my front door.

  13

  “I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

  I tossed my caramels onto the table, and then hurried into the living room, where Rita was kneeling in front of the couch where Dad and Laura sat. She was clutching at Dad’s hand, holding on so tightly, I wasn’t sure he could easily remove it. He looked uncomfortable, as anyone would, while Laura looked mildly amused. Rita, on the other hand, was clearly beside herself.

  “What did I do?” she asked, scooching forward on her knees so that she was practically leaning into Dad’s lap. “If I did something, just tell me what it was and I’ll fix it.”

  Dad looked up at me and I could see the relief wash over his face. “Krissy,” he said, extracting himself from Rita and rising. “How was your day?”

  Rita abruptly stood and wiped a hand over her eyes. Her makeup was smeared, dress rumpled. I actually felt bad for her. She couldn’t help how she felt about my dad. She was his self-proclaimed number-one fan and had no problem telling everyone, Dad included, that fact. Ever since I’d come to Pine Hills, Rita had attached herself to me, all because my father was James Hancock. She was smitten with him, more than an avid reader should be.

  But this took her fascination with him to a whole new level. Something else had to be going on in her life for her to act out like this.

  “It was fine,” I said, and then, knowing I couldn’t just ignore her, I stepped past Dad and put an arm around Rita’s shoulders. She flinched, like she thought I might take a swing at her for simpering at Dad’s feet, before she leaned into me, sagging as if her strings had been cut.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.” She sniffed and produced a handkerchief from her dress pocket to wipe her nose.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I understand. These things can be hard.”

  Dad moved slowly to Laura’s side and sank back down onto the couch. I led Rita across the room to the recliner and helped her into it. I didn’t think she’d collapse if I stopped supporting her, but figured it would be better if we did this with her sitting down.

  “I was sitting at home, all alone, and I got this urge to come over here and see James,” Rita said. She dabbed at her eyes, removing some of the smeared makeup. “It’s the anniversary, you know? I get all weepy and confused.” She gently touched her hair to make sure it was still in place. “I got that bug in my rear and just had to come over and ask why he turned against me. I know it was wrong of me, but, well, I just couldn’t sit by and let it happen without speaking my piece.”

  “He didn’t turn against you,” I said, wondering what she’d meant by “the anniversary.” Could she have been married before and her husband passed? Left her? Some other anniversary? I would have asked, but was afraid it would open an already painful wound further. For now, I needed to diffuse the situation, not make things worse. “He lives far from here, has his own life.”

  “But . . .”

  I cut her off before she could protest. “He didn’t want to hurt you, right, Dad?”

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “See? And Laura is a very nice person. She didn’t know how you felt, couldn’t have. You might like her if you’d take the time to get to know her.”

  Rita glared at Laura and then shrugged. “I don’t know about that.” She straightened, wiped at her eyes one more time, and then put on a brave face. “But I suppose it can’t hurt to try.”

  “Good.” I left the room briefly to grab a dining room chair. I carried it into the living room and placed it so I could see everyone at once. This had gone far enough, and I wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. “Now that we’re all here and calm, let�
��s talk.”

  They all looked at me like I was insane.

  “It’ll be good for us,” I said.

  “I’m not sure what we could possibly talk about, dear,” Rita said. She looked far more like the Rita I knew, even if her eyes were rimmed red and her makeup was still a mess. That look of stubborn defiance was back.

  “Anything. I’ve recently learned that sometimes, if you just sit down with someone and talk, you can hash out any problems you may have.” I shot a glance toward the window that looked out onto Eleanor Winthrow’s own place. Things were much better between us ever since her daughter had come to town last Christmas and forced us to talk. I wouldn’t say we were besties or anything, but she’d stopped spying on me constantly, and I had a better understanding of why she was the way she was.

  “How did breakfast go?” Dad asked, wisely starting small and avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. No sense in rubbing Rita’s nose in his relationship.

  “It was okay,” I said, knowing it was anything but. “Vicki and Mason are struggling with deciding what to do. Raymond and Regina are pushing for them to postpone, if not cancel, the wedding. For a little while there, I thought they might do just that.” My heart ached just thinking about it.

  “I hear they’re getting married themselves,” Rita said, eyes lighting up at the chance to gossip.

  “Regina and Raymond?”

  She nodded vigorously. “They’ve been planning it in secret for months now. I believe they would have been married already if it wasn’t for Vicki and Mason’s wedding, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “You don’t think they are pushing for Vicki and Mason to cancel so that they can step in and get married instead, do you?” As ludicrous as it might be, it did sound like something both Raymond and Regina might do. They were the kind of people who always put themselves first.

  Come to think of it, they were a lot like Gina and Frederick Patterson in that regard.

  “I can’t swear to it, but I wouldn’t put it past them,” Rita said, echoing my own thoughts.

  “Could one of them have killed that wedding planner?” Laura asked.