Death by Coffee

by Alex Erickson

  The door to the office opened and Vicki poked her head in. “You doing okay in here?”

  I rose to my feet. I could think about this all day and make no headway. I needed to do something.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I just needed a few minutes to clear my head.”

  “Well, I hope your head is clear and empty because someone is here, ready to fill it full again.”

  The smirk on Vicki’s face told me I wasn’t going to like my visitor.

  I smoothed down my shirt and followed Vicki back out. She gave me a quick little wave and a grin before returning to the bookstore. I think she actually giggled on her way up.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rita said as soon as I appeared. “I didn’t mean to act so rude earlier. I was so stunned by what you’d done, I didn’t know how to react. It took a little while for it all to sink in and I realized how brilliant the idea really was. But then I realized how horrible I treated you and knew I just had to come back in and apologize before I could go on with the rest of my day.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I looked around for something else to do, but Vicki had cleaned and organized my entire section while I’d been in the back. Unless I wanted to pretend to be busy—I didn’t—I’d have to face Rita and her ramblings.

  Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She seemed to know everyone in town. Maybe she knew something about Mason and Heidi that the police might not know. There was nothing wrong with innocently milking the resident gossip for information, was there?

  I leaned on the counter and forced a friendly smile. “It is terrible about Mr. Lawyer, isn’t it?” I asked. “His wife must be devastated. I saw her picture on the news last night.”

  Rita huffed. “As if. From what I’ve heard, she was filing for divorce before all of this unpleasantness went down.”

  “Really?” My theory that she might have paid someone—Mason, more than likely—to kill her husband had just gained more traction. A divorce might have left her with very little, while his untimely death could make her rich. “Did he leave her lots of money?”

  “Some,” Rita said. “Despite Brendon’s attitude and his choice of clothing, the business is small-time. He wasn’t struggling or anything, but he wasn’t as rich as he tried to pretend.”

  “I see.” I wasn’t sure if that meant anything or not. I suppose if Brendon and Heidi were going to get a divorce, he could have found a way to set it up so that she would receive next to nothing. Maybe she’d killed him because she found out about his plans, whatever they might have been.

  Rita glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening before leaning up against the counter. Her chest tried to make another escape onto the counter.

  “I heard from Georgina, who heard it from Andi, that the Lawyers were heard fighting a few weeks back. It was loud enough that the cops were called.” She leaned back and gave me a self-satisfied nod. “Or so I heard.”

  I didn’t bother to ask who Georgina and Andi were. More than likely, they were the other main sources of Pine Hills gossip. I could just imagine the three women sitting around a table, telling each other every juicy little thing they’d heard, true or not. I suddenly wasn’t so sure I was happy about living in a town where everyone’s business seemed to be everyone else’s business.

  “So,” Rita said, clapping her hands together. I jumped about a foot into the air. “Do you think you’ll be at tonight’s group?”

  Crap. I really had no desire to sit through a writers’ meeting. I didn’t write, though that didn’t seem to matter to Rita. She seemed to think creative genes ran in the family.

  I probably should have said no, told her that I was too busy or something, but I, instead, found the idea intriguing. Maybe getting to know others in town would help me understand the inner workings of Pine Hills. Perhaps I’d learn something that would help me understand why anyone would go to such strange lengths to kill Brendon Lawyer—if indeed he’d even been murdered. I wasn’t sure what I’d overheard Heidi say was an admission of guilt.

  “Sure,” I said. “I think I will.”

  Rita beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Andi! She’ll be so excited.”

  I suppressed a groan. I was sure she would be.

  The door tinkled open and a woman who looked to be in her late fifties entered. Her hair was pulled up off her neck, exposing the thin gold chains that hung there. Each of her fingers had a ring of some sort—some big enough to serve as paperweights if need be. Her lipstick was a severe red, as was her tight skirt. Her eyes speared me as she approached the counter.

  “Could I get a coffee?” She asked it like I might actually say no.

  “Sure,” I said, plastering on my “please don’t make me hate this any more than I already do” smile. “Would you like anything in it?”

  She grimaced. “Black, please.”

  What was it with this town and their black coffees? I mean, with all of the flavors I had available, you’d think someone would at least try one! Where was their sense of adventure?

  I got the woman her coffee, took her money—exact change—and watched as she stormed out of the building as if on a mission to destroy some poor chap who’d tried to take her parking space.

  “That’s Mrs. Regina Harper,” Rita said. “She’s always hated Brendon.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked distractedly as I put the money into the register.

  “Well, because he married her daughter, of course.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in. “Wait,” I said. “Do you mean that’s Heidi’s mom?”

  Rita nodded. She crossed her arms and gave me a self-satisfied grin. She clearly thought her knowledge of the town’s residents was some miraculous feat.

  But her knowledge did afford me an opportunity. I couldn’t let it go to waste.

  “Vicki!” I shouted as I ran around the counter. “Can you watch the store for me?”

  Vicki poked her head around a corner. “Sure.” She hesitated. “Why? Where are you going?”

  I hit the door at a run. “Not far,” I shouted back. “I’ll be right back.”

  Vicki said something else, but it was lost as the door closed behind me.

  I stopped just outside Death by Coffee and looked wildly in the direction I’d seen Regina go. For a heart-stopping second, I’d thought I’d lost her. There weren’t very many people on the street, but Regina was a small woman. She could easily vanish in a crowd of two if she so chose. And if she’d gotten in a car instead of walking, she’d be just as gone and I might never see her again. I had no idea what I could learn from her, outside of confirming Brendon and Heidi had been getting a divorce, but at least I would have confirmation. I wasn’t totally sure how far I could trust Rita’s word.

  Just as I was about to give up the chase even before it had begun, I caught a glimpse of Regina’s red skirt as she stepped around a pair of teens leaning against a brick building decorated with green and yellow balloons. I took off after her.

  “Mrs. Harper!” I shouted. She didn’t appear to hear me the first time, so I shouted again, this time louder. “Mrs. Harper!”

  She stopped and glanced back. A scowl that could melt concrete crossed her face when she saw me.

  “I gave you exact change,” she said. “I don’t like being taken advantage of, young lady.”

  I was panting by the time I reached her and I hadn’t run all that far. Maybe it was time I started going for a jog in the mornings or perhaps stopped eating a tub of Rocky Road every time I got depressed about something. If working out wasn’t such hard work, I very well might have started already.

  “No, it’s not that,” I managed between gasps. “I just want to ask you something.”

  Regina continued to scowl, but at least she didn’t storm off in a huff. I had a feeling she wasn’t the type of person you messed with. She seemed like someone who would use her pumps as deadly weapons if you annoyed her enough.

  “Well?” she asked when I didn’t speak right away. “Wha
t do you want?”

  I took a deep breath, happy I could breathe again. I didn’t know how this woman was going to take to me asking questions about her dead son-in-law. I might end up wearing the coffee gripped in her manicured hand if I offended her. This was a woman who wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

  “My name’s Krissy,” I said, figuring it might be best to start off with introductions. Maybe she wouldn’t glower at me so much if she knew who I was. “Krissy Hancock.”

  Regina tapped her foot, but otherwise didn’t reply.

  “I was just wondering what your thoughts are on Brendon’s death.” I swallowed back a surge of fear as her eyes narrowed. “He was your son-in-law, wasn’t he?”

  “He was.” Her jaw tightened, as if admitting it was enough to anger her.

  “Do you think his death was an accident?”

  Her eyes narrowed even more. “What are you implying?”

  Okay, time to be careful.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying on a smile that only seemed to irritate her more. “It just seems odd he would have forgotten his EpiPen the very day he ingests peanuts.”

  Regina gave a disgusted snort. “He probably left it with his whore.”

  I very nearly choked on my own spit. “Excuse me?”

  Regina Harper glared at me as if she thought I’d been the one to sleep with her daughter’s husband. “Brendon Lawyer was a no-good cheater who couldn’t see the value in what he had. He went around screwing women like they were there simply for his own pleasure. That man deserved what he got. Maybe now Heidi will find herself someone who actually cares about her. I’m glad he’s dead.”

  An icy chill crept up my spine. Maybe Heidi and Mason hadn’t worked together to kill Brendon, after all. Maybe Heidi’s own mom had killed him, and her daughter had found out about it. If anyone could heartlessly murder a man, this terror of a woman could.

  “Is there anything else?” she asked, clearly wanting to get back to whatever it was she’d been doing before I’d interrupted her.

  “No,” I said. My voice came out as a squeak. “I think that’s all.”

  Regina looked me up and down, gave an irritated huff, and then stormed away, coffee expertly held so that it wouldn’t slosh out onto her clothes, no matter how fast or hard she walked.

  I sagged against the side of the nearest building, which turned out to be a place called Tunes and Loons Music Emporium. Did every store in this town have to have a stupid name? I waited for Regina to scowl her way around the corner before turning back to Death by Coffee, thankful to be alive. I felt like I’d just been flattened by a falling safe and wanted nothing more than to curl up with Misfit on the couch. If it wasn’t for, you know, actually having to work for a living, I very well might have gone home and found a new tub of ice cream to empty.

  As it was, I dragged myself back into work and went about filling the few orders I had. I was just thankful Rita was long gone by the time I got back and that Vicki hadn’t bombarded me with questions the moment I’d walked through the door. I wouldn’t have known how to answer.

  The only thing I was sure of was that Brendon Lawyer hadn’t forgotten his EpiPen before accidently consuming peanuts. Call it “intuition,” call it a “wild hunch,” but after talking to a few people he’d known best, I was pretty darn sure he had been murdered.

  6

  “Okay, what did I do this time?” I asked as I peeled the wet sock from my foot.

  Misfit glared at me from the doorway to the laundry room. He swished his tail twice before turning and strutting away. Apparently, he was satisfied his little present had made his point and I wouldn’t do whatever it was I’d done to make him unhappy ever again.

  My nose crinkled as I dropped the sock, as well as its match into the washer. I stepped around the puddle that had just about killed me to get some paper towels. One of these days, that cat was going to learn how to use the litter box properly.

  Once the floor was wiped up, scrubbed clean, and air freshener was sprayed throughout the room, I headed to my bedroom to get ready. I considered taking another shower, since my foot smelled like cat pee. I decided that since it would be shoved in a shoe for the rest of the night, a quick wipe off would suffice. It wasn’t like I was planning on taking my shoes off at the writers’ meeting.

  Misfit sat atop the bed, where I’d very nearly set the clothes I planned on wearing. Just before stepping into the shower, I’d changed my mind and hung them on a hanger and stuck them back into the closet. I had a feeling I would have had little wet cat prints all over the blouse and long orange hairs up and down the black slacks if I had left them out.

  “Not this time, mister,” I said as the cat eyed me with a hint of disappointment in his eye. I opened the closet and retrieved my clothes, one by one, giving him no opportunity to ruin them before I had a chance to wear them.

  I had no idea how to dress for a meeting like this. Did they dress up and sit around drinking tea while telling each other how brilliant they were? Was it more casual and fun? If it wasn’t for the fear of making Rita think I actually wanted to talk to her, I would have called and asked. As it was, I would just wing it and hope for the best.

  I pulled on my blouse and slacks and checked myself over in the mirror. I looked nice, but not so nice that I’d feel overdressed if they were all wearing jeans and T-shirts. With a satisfied nod, I grabbed a pair of comfortable shoes and socks and started for the kitchen.

  A soft thump was all the warning I had.

  Misfit tore out of the bedroom like someone had dumped a gallon of water on him. He chose his path carefully ahead of time, I was sure. He managed to run between my legs, smacking each with his fluffy body, coating them with his orange fur. He very nearly succeeded in sending me flying face-first into the door.

  I caught myself on my dresser, which, in turn, caused me to lose my grip on my shoes. They went flying across the room and slammed into the far wall, thankfully not putting a hole in it.

  I thought I heard a little kitty snicker from the other room.

  “One of these days,” I grumbled, retrieving my shoes and thinking black thoughts about buzz clippers and a flea bath. I carried my shoes out into the dining room, where Misfit, of course, was sitting on the table, tail swishing. I’m pretty sure his eyes strayed to the box with his treats.

  “Not on your life,” I said as I grabbed a bag of treats, anyway. Even when he was trying to kill me, I couldn’t resist him.

  As he began crunching the treats up on the table, I slipped on my socks and shoes, grabbed my purse, and then headed for the door.

  “Be back in a little bit,” I called as I quickly opened the front door and slipped outside. Misfit, as usual, leapt from the table and tried to make a run for it, but I managed to get through the door and slam it closed before he could get there. I swear his entire purpose in life is to give me a hard time.

  I walked to my car—a black Ford Focus I had gotten a deal on, thanks to my then-boyfriend, Robert. I’d considered giving him the car back when I broke up with him, but decided I loved the car too much to do that. Besides, then I would have to go buy a new one on my own. It wasn’t the car’s fault the guy who helped me get it was a lying ass. I was fumbling for my keys when my gaze fell onto the house next to mine.

  “Damn it,” I grumbled, shoving the keys back into my purse. I’d wanted to get to the meeting early to scope it out, but there was something else I needed to do first. I wouldn’t feel right until I did.

  I crossed the lawn and approached the front door of Jules Phan’s house. It was a little bigger than mine, but not by much. The entire front was lined with a well-cared-for flowerbed. The house itself was white, looked freshly cleaned, and smelled of flowers in bloom. It looked like Mr. Phan spent a lot of time tending to his home. Maybe if he had time, he could come over and take care of mine for me, because there was no way I’d ever manage to get my place looking—and smelling—like this.

  I hesitated before pressing the doorbel
l. It was oddly colored, looking like a red-and-white-lined peppermint. I was afraid it might actually be a peppermint and I’d end up getting my fingers all sticky.

  “That’s absurd,” I muttered as I pressed the bell. A faint chime rang through the house. Immediately high-pitched yapping started up and claws hit the door from the inside. A moment later the door opened to a smiling Jules Phan and a little bundle of fur, the latter of which immediately barreled into my legs.

  “Maestro, no,” Jules said, clapping his hands. “I’m sorry. He gets so excited when we have guests.”

  The little dog wagged his tail at me before turning and leaping into Jules’s waiting arms.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I have a cat.”

  “Ah.” He smiled as if the thought of a cat repelled him.

  I started to speak, but that’s when I noticed how different he looked. The last time I’d seen Jules Phan, he’d been wearing an outlandish outfit I’d taken for his usual attire. Tonight he was dressed in khaki shorts and a blue polo, with white Keds and no socks. He looked downright normal.

  “You’ve changed.” I felt stupid the moment I said it.

  He looked down at himself. “I have?”

  “Your clothes.” I bit my lip. I really should stop talking before I insulted him.

  “Oh.” He laughed, which caused Maestro to start licking his face. “I have.” He stepped aside. “Please come in. No sense standing outside where the rumor patrol will see us.”

  I walked past him automatically. He closed the door before dropping Maestro onto the floor. The little dog sniffed at me and then rushed after his master, who was retreating toward the living room.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “Please sit.”

  “No thanks.” I took a seat on the couch. Jules perched on the armrest of a chair that looked so comfortable and soft, it very well might swallow whoever sat in it. The coffee table looked to be made of solid oak with an intricate etched design around the trim. In the corner a grandfather clock ticked the seconds by. It looked old.

  “I was wearing my work uniform last night,” he said, and then laughed when he saw the look on my face. “I work at Phantastic Candies. Well, I own the place. I sell candy to the kids mostly.”