A Berry Deadly Welcome_A Laugh-Out-Loud Kylie Berry Mystery

by A. R. Winters

  "Are you sure no one would miss him?" I asked.

  "Positive," the woman called back as she tucked the stumpy rose bush into the ground and started securing soil around it.

  Bending over, I dangled my fingers a small ways in front of the kitten. It responded by flopping onto its back and reaching for my fingers with its extended claws. I let the little guy snag me and pull me close enough to gnaw on my fingers while simultaneously raking on my hand with its back claws.

  I scooped it up and snuggled it close to my chest. It hissed, sneezed, and then settled into a purr. It didn’t even stop purring when I flipped it over for a quick check. The kitten was a little girl.

  I smiled over at the lady in her yard, but she was too busy working to notice.

  "I'm going to take her home with me, but if anyone wants her back, I'm the new owner of Sarah's Eatery."

  The woman looked up from her work, her once pleased face now wearing a heavy scowl. "Oh." Her eyes looked me up and down. "I didn't know."

  This time, she didn't return to her work. She stared at me, her eyes beady and her mouth tight. She made me wonder if I'd grown horns or if maybe I had a booger on the end of my nose.

  I looked down at the kitten, and she looked up at me with blissful, half-lidded eyes, and her purr was almost as loud as the traffic driving by. I didn't know why the lady didn't like me, but the kitten did, and that was more than enough.

  Not bothering to wave or say goodbye to the woman digging in her yard, I turned around and started the trek back. I had a new friend, and that meant that my life had just gotten a whole lot better. They wouldn't send a new kitten-mommy away to prison. I wouldn't let them. I was sure that I had read every label twice. I wasn't familiar with what was in the pantry, and I was always having to check and recheck what it was that I was about to use. I hadn't even mistaken the salt for sugar. I know that Rachel had died after eating my brownies, but I'd tasted the brownie batter and I felt fine.

  I was not the screw up my ex-Aunt Dorothy swore I was.

  I was not the throwaway piece of trash my ex-husband had treated me as.

  I was a business owner and a new member of this community, and by God, I was going to make them like and accept me even if I had to hire a three-star Michelin chef to do it.

  I took another bite of the Gouda cheese and did my best to anchor myself back in reality. A three-star Michelin chef would be way, way, way outside my price range and probably too obnoxious to work with. But I vowed to find another way to win the hearts, trust, and dollars of Camden Falls residents.

  I would not give up.

  Chapter 12

  I headed back to the café with a new friend and a renewed purpose. Save the café. Save myself.

  On the way, I passed the office of Attorney at Law Marty Brownwell. His office was somewhat shabby, but clean. He didn't have a secretary, so the person I spoke to was him. He was short and pudgy with a face and body resembling a bulldog, and I imagined him butting heads with the police and managing to stand his ground, so I hired him.

  I explained my situation, that the police suspected me of murder and that they had closed down the café pending the results of the investigation. I also explained their lack of evidence and the fact that I had enough money in the bank to pay him... something.

  He accepted the job. We shook hands.

  When I got back to the café, I dropped my new bestest pal off in my apartment and called an Uber. An hour later I was back with kitty kibble, litter, a litter box, and a how-to book called Know Your Kitty. I also picked up an assortment of pre-made cookies, muffins, and even a couple of expertly decorated and scrumptious looking cakes.

  I opened a can of tuna and split it between me and my new best pal. "What should I call you?" The kitten looked up at me with her large, luminescent eyes. They looked gold, but then she blinked and they were green. "Sage," I said. "I'll call you Sage."

  I extended a hand to pet her but she hunkered down and hissed. I held my hand still, not withdrawing it, and she stood back up and rubbed her cheek against the ends of my fingers.

  She was wonderful, everything about her. She was ready to fight, but she was completely open to love.

  The next morning I opened the café door bright and early for pert Melanie and lanky Sam, both filled with the natural glow that youth gave them. I'd texted them last night and asked them to come help get the café put back in order, and I told them that I would pay them for any scheduled but lost time from yesterday and today, plus extra to cover their loss of tips.

  "What a cute little cat!" Melanie exclaimed, making a beeline for the fuzzball in my arms. Sage swatted at her bouncing curls, and then Melanie noticed the space around us and gasped. "What happened?"

  "It's not as bad as it looks." That was a bald-faced lie. They hadn't even seen the kitchen yet.

  Brenda strolled in ten seconds after Sam and Melanie. "Well!" she exclaimed. "Who'd you make mad?" I knew that she was teasing, but as soon as the words were out, her face fell. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothin'."

  "It's okay, Brenda. But I actually have an extra special task for you. Could you make a lasagna?"

  "Big enough to feed how many?"

  "Uh... a family of four?" I really didn't know the answer.

  "Casserole size? Sure," she said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "I can do that." She headed off toward the kitchen and then a stream of words that had me cupping my hand over sweet, little innocent Sage's ears rang out a moment later.

  I cringed. "Melanie, can you go help Brenda put the kitchen back together? I'll help Sam out here.”

  "Sure," Melanie said with a little laugh in her voice.

  The chime on the café door sounded and I turned around to see Zoey walk in.

  "I'm sorry, Zoey. I'm not allowed to serve customers yet."

  "Then don't charge me." Her steps didn't miss a beat as she headed to the grill's bar and perched on her favorite stool.

  I thought about her logic and found it sound. If she wasn't paying, then she was a guest. I went around to the grill-side of the counter and started a pot of coffee.

  "You know, if you served coffee from individual French presses you could charge more for it."

  I paused mid coffee scoop. Zoey had a point. I could sell servings of coffee by the quarter, half or full French press. People were passionate about good coffee, and I knew there had to be some reason why French presses were considered special. Grabbing a pen, I made a note of it on a napkin. "Thanks, Zoey!"

  By 10 AM, Agatha waltzed in as the aged empress that she was accompanied by a loyal entourage of two other women. Each one of them had a large tote of one kind or other on their arm, and none of them seemed to take notice of the big closed sign I had hung on the door. Instead, Agatha waved and called good morning as the group made their way to the sunny back nook with its cozy, oversized chairs. There, they got out their knitting and chattered as they worked. Nearby, Sage slept, curled up and content.

  Without being asked, I served them three cups of coffee with a side of chilled cream and sugar cubes along with a plate of store-bought sugar cookies and pecan sandies. "No customers today, ladies, so this is on the house. Enjoy."

  They cooed over the offering as their fingers flew, never missing a stitch.

  Just before noon, more would-be customers came in for lunch. I presented them with glasses of milk or coffee and a slice of store-bought double chocolate fudge cake. Again on the house, and again, nobody complained.

  The door of the café burst open and my heart stuttered in my chest, afraid that the police had come to bust me for serving food to people. But the newcomer was none other than Marty Brownwell. To my great relief, he was wearing a triumphant smile and he was holding a piece of paper in the air tight in his pudgy hand.

  I hurried over to him while trying not to be as obvious as breaking into a mad dash. "Did you do it?"

  "I sure did!" He slapped the paper against the palm of his other hand before handing it over
to me. "The injunction against the café has been lifted as an undue hardship without proof of wrongdoing." He glanced around us at the various "customers" who had gathered. "You can now legally sell your goods."

  I'd never been a hugger, but I did just that. I threw my arms around Mr. Brownwell's neck and jumped up and down. Mr. Brownwell wasn't much taller than me, and my antics jostled him all about while tears of joy stung my eyes. Until that moment, I'd had no idea how much the café meant to me.

  He blushed when I gave him a kiss on the cheek and gave me an aww, shucks schoolboy look.

  Turning around to face the café, I held the piece of paper over my head and yelled out at the top of my lungs, "We're open for business!" The small chorus of whoops and clapping that reached me might as well have been made by a stadium full of ecstatic fans as far as I was concerned.

  I flipped the closed sign to open.

  Save the café... Check. I mentally crossed it off my list.

  Save myself... That was coming next.

  Chapter 13

  I leaned over the lasagna that Brenda had made and breathed it in deep. It looked and smelled delicious. It bubbled with gooey cheese, and I could just make out the tangy scent of the tomato sauce. My mouth was watering, and I had to fight myself to keep from cutting out a serving… to taste test.

  Nearby, Melanie was rinsing some dishes and loading them into the industrial strength dishwasher. We'd had so few customers that we only had to run the dishwasher once a day ever since I’d taken over.

  "Melanie, I'd like to take this lasagna to Rachel's family, but I don't know where she lived or anything about her family. Do you know anything?"

  Melanie paused in her work, thinking. "No, but I'm sure that the newspaper guy would know. Joel."

  I thought back to my first day when Sarah had introduced me to all of her regulars. Joel had been the kind seeming, lumberjack of a guy. I hadn't seen him since that day, and my heart fell a little that one of Sarah's regulars had given up on the café already. "Do you know where I can find him?"

  "The newspaper office is on Waters Street, two streets behind Main Street and a couple of blocks over."

  In walking distance. "Thanks, Melanie!" I knew that it wasn't much of an offering, but I put together an assortment of cookies on a plate and then covered it with plastic wrap. I wished I had a basket to carry it in but opted for a leftover grocery bag instead.

  Leaving the café in Melanie and Sam's capable hands, I set out on foot. It was a beautiful day. The more time I spent in the sleepy little town of Camden Falls, the more I grew to appreciate it. People looked less rushed than they had in Chicago, and while I couldn't say for sure, I thought they looked happier, too. They certainly looked less stressed. People smiled more here. Okay, maybe they didn't smile at me once they knew who I was, but I did see more smiles in general.

  Stopping, I looked at the metal inlaid sign above the door of a stone building. The sign read "Camden Falls Herald."

  Pushing in the glass front door, an electronic chime announced my arrival rather than a tinkling physical bell like the one attached to the café's front door. A half-square counter encased me into the entryway and stopped me from going any further. Beyond that was a wall with a single doorway. Its door was partially open, but I couldn't see anything past it. There was no one in sight.

  "Hello?" I called out. I heard movement and then Joel appeared in the doorway. The whole doorway. His head was half a foot from touching the top and his shoulders nearly touched both sides of the door frame. I'd thought he was a big man when I'd seen him sitting down in the café, but now he put me in mind of Paul Bunyan. He was a giant.

  Then he smiled. His eyes crinkled, and my heart melted. I had to catch myself in a sigh. Something about him made me want to curl up on the couch in a snuggly blanket and tell him my whole life story.

  Shaking my head, I did my best to break out of his spell, but then my eyes focused on him and I was smiling and inwardly sighing all over again.

  "Hi," he said. His warm voice washed over me, and I got goosebumps.

  He stepped up to the counter and I had to crane my head back in order to look up at him. "How tall are you?" I asked with awe in my voice. My cheeks heated at asking such a personal question, but the words just popped out of my mouth.

  He chuckled and butterflies did looping swirls in my stomach. "Six-five."

  I blinked. That made him a foot and a quarter taller than me, and I had no doubts that he would be able to wrestle a bull to the ground if we were to go on a picnic and, you know, get surprised by a rampaging bull...

  I had to shake my head again and force myself to snap out of it. I was newly divorced, newly burned—new to shunning all men because they were men!

  I inwardly sighed again, sure that I was getting all dreamy-eyed once more despite my best efforts to the contrary.

  "Is there anything that I can help you with?"

  It was a simple enough question but I died a little when he asked it. I was mortified at my schoolgirl behavior while he was all business.

  "Do I smell cookies?"

  Again, a simple enough question, but it made me want to jump for joy. I no longer felt like a complete idiot. "Yes!" How he could smell them past the grocery bag and beneath the plastic wrap I had no idea. Now I wondered at having used my shampoo as a body wash that morning. It was apple-scented. If he could smell me, hopefully he thought I'd been baking amazing apple pies all morning.

  I lifted the bag to the counter and unveiled the plate of sugar, pecan sandies, and chocolate chip cookies. Unwrapping the plate, I slid it across the counter to him. I couldn't stop my grin when he bit into one of the sandies and closed his eyes in pleasure.

  "I'm sorry I haven't been by the café since Sarah left,” he said after swallowing.

  The elephant stepped into the room and sounded its call. I hadn't planned on bringing it up, but I was glad that he did. "I know that it's been a big change." My heart skipped a beat as a thought flashed into my head. He was quite a bit younger than Sarah, but maybe they had once been sweethearts and he'd been sad to see her go. Sounding half-hearted even to my own ears, I said, "I know that the café won’t be the same without her."

  He smiled bright. "It takes time! I took this place over from my uncle. You'll eventually make it your own."

  Make it my own...

  "You could even change the name."

  Change the name...

  It was such a revolutionary thought. Changing the name had never occurred to me. "I don't have to sell the same foods that Sarah did." I said it like an epiphany, and I thought about Zoey's suggestion of selling coffee by the French press. "I could change the menu." I didn’t know why it was such an amazing concept for me to wrap my mind around. It wasn't like I'd been following Sarah's menu since I'd arrived. I didn't have a chef and I didn't have the personal skills to make any of the dishes she’d made the café famous for. I'd been serving spaghetti in all the various forms that Brenda had made it.

  Another thought hit me. I was going to be out of business soon if I didn't turn things around! People were going to get tired of eating spaghetti day in and day out. It wasn't about my ex-Aunt Dorothy or the police. It was all me. I was failing at running the café. No one else was ruining it for me. It was all me!

  I looked up into Joel's dark honey eyes. "Thank you!" His grin was my answer of you’re welcome.

  "Is there anything I can do for you? Did you want to take out an ad?"

  Advertising! I felt like palming myself in the forehead. I had handled nearly every aspect of my ex-husband’s business, yet I was managing the café like some sort of business novice. First chance I got, I needed to draw up a business plan.

  I glanced down at the plate of cookies and rewound all my thoughts in order to recall why I'd sought Joel out. It was then that I remembered. "The police think that I murdered Rachel Summers," I blurted.

  Joel chuckled again, and I hoped that it was because my candor amused him and not because
I was making an enormous fool of myself.

  "Did you kill her?"

  I sucked in a breath of air as I considered his choice of words. I had said murdered. I definitely had not murdered her, but if I used the rat poison instead of baking powder, I most definitely could have killed her.

  "I don't know," I finally answered honestly.

  He nodded sagely, but when he didn't speak, a silence followed that sucked more words out of me.

  "I would like to take a lasagna to her family." One of his eyebrows quirked and I quickly added, "I didn't make it. Brenda made it." More silence, then more words from me. "Problem is, I don't know anything about Rachel or even where she lived. Could you help me with that?"

  Nodding some more and with a twinkle of humor in his eyes, he said, "I can help you with that."

  Chapter 14

  Melanie had been right. Joel had been the man-in-the-know, and now I was standing outside of Rachel's townhouse with a heavy lasagna cradled in my arms as my Uber driver drove away. But, it wasn't just Rachel's townhouse. It was actually a townhouse duplex, and according to Joel, the other side was owned by Rachel's sister, Veronica.

  I walked up the concrete walkway to the double front doors, contemplating on which one to knock. The left door had a decorative fall wreath filled with pine cones and colorful leaves. The other door was blank. The door with the wreath also had a welcome mat, but the mat in front of the other door didn't have any welcoming words on it.

  I stepped to the left and gave the decorated door a hearty rap with my knuckles. The sound of screaming children grew until there was a loud thump from the other side of the door, followed by more screaming. Then, there was a woman's voice.

  "Scoot! Get away from there. It could be the boogieman! You know you're not allowed to open the door. Go on, go out back."

  More screaming, this time drifting away from the door.

  The door opened and I plastered a huge, strained smile on my face. It was so big and so false that it hurt my cheeks.