Death by Pumpkin Spice

by Alex Erickson

“Here you go,” Lena said, handing candy to a ten-year-old priest. The girl was as cute as could be, and her grin caused even the normally somber Adam to smile where he stood at the back of the group.

  The trunk or treat was going better than I’d expected. Parents were happy to let their children run free as they retrieved candy from the groups present. There were games on one end of the lot, things like pin the tail on the werewolf, that had many of the children screaming in laughter. I didn’t even know there were that many kids in Pine Hills, though I suppose many of them had come from nearby towns.

  My car sat behind us, trunk filled with candy. While all of the other cars in the lot had candy in them, most were using bags to hold it. Rita had insisted on dumping the candy out into the trunk, claiming it was tradition, which was supposed to make it all right. I knew I was going to find rotten candy hidden in the corners of the trunk for the next ten years.

  My eyes traveled along the parking lot as a break in the kids appeared. The church itself had its own car. The local preacher and a few old ladies were handing out candy, smiling and treating everyone with kindness, even the kids dressed as demons and devils. No one was left out here, no matter race, gender, or religious beliefs. It was enough to make me smile. The sense of community was overwhelming.

  “There’s Officer Dalton!” Rita said, waving at him. “He’s the arresting officer, you know?” she told Andi and Georgina, who nodded knowingly.

  I really didn’t want to look, but my eyes betrayed me. Paul was with a few other cops, including John Buchannan, who was actually smiling as he passed out candy. Paul looked up at nearly the exact same moment I glanced over, as if he’d heard Rita’s exclamation. Our eyes met. We both blushed. And then the moment was gone as we both looked away to focus on the latest beggar.

  “Here you are,” I told a boy who had to be at least eighteen, dressed like Cinderella. He curtsied and then moved on.

  I looked past him to the pink car parked two spaces away. It was the most popular, and with good reason. Jules was dressed in full-on super candy mode. He wore a red-and-white-striped suit, with matching hat and tie. And the candy he was giving out put everyone else’s to shame. I wished we would have been placed next to each other because I really would have liked to talk to him, rather than listen to Rita extoll my virtues.

  “And then she tackled her, without worrying about hurting herself. Look over here a second.” Rita grabbed my chin and turned it so a pair of middle-aged women I didn’t know could see the scab there from where my chin had struck pavement. “And here.” She let go of my chin and nearly yanked my arm out of its socket to show the bandage.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said as the women oohed and aahed. “There’s something I need to do.”

  “Don’t be too long!” Rita said, before going back to her story.

  I scurried away and headed for the police car. While I knew they had the killer and his accomplices, I still didn’t know what had happened to them, or to Elaine for that matter. Had Margaret sent someone else after her? Or had she and her lawyer taken the money and were going to make a run for it? I was determined to find out.

  “Hi, Krissy.”

  I froze as Will approached, leading a little girl by the hand.

  “Will,” I said, face flaming as if he’d caught me smooching Paul Dalton in the closet. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled. “My niece.” He turned to the girl in question. “Gemma, say hi to Krissy.”

  “Hi, Krissy!” She was six at the most, and cute as a button. She was wearing a Batgirl costume and holding a bag with Wonder Woman on it.

  “Hi, Gemma,” I said. “Are you getting a lot of candy?”

  “Yeah!” She sounded excited, which was understandable. I would have loved going to something like this when I was a kid. “See!” She opened her bag so I could peek in.

  “Wow,” I told her. “That is a lot!”

  She giggled and went sorting through her bag, adults forgotten.

  I turned my attention back to Will. “I didn’t know you had any siblings.”

  He shrugged. “It never came up. My sister would have been at the costume party, but she was out of town for work. I’m glad she didn’t come, though. It was bad enough my parents were there for that.” He looked glum for a moment before smiling. “But we all made it through it okay.”

  “Yeah.” Other than Jessica Fairweather, that was.

  “Come on, Willy.” Gemma tugged at his hand. “I want to see the funny man.” She was looking at Jules, who was tap dancing in front of his car, Lance looking on fondly.

  Will smiled and gave me a helpless shrug. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sure. Have fun.”

  He let himself be led away. I watched him go with a contented sigh. He was good with kids and looked natural with Gemma. I could see him as a doting father someday.

  My stomach tightened at that thought, and I turned to find myself looking at the police car where Paul was busy handing out candy. I no longer wanted to go over and talk to him, afraid that Will might take it the wrong way. He knew we’d gone on a date, which means he knew we might still care for one another. I really didn’t want to screw up a good thing.

  “Torn, huh?”

  I jumped and turned to find Chief Dalton dressed in full uniform smiling at me.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said.

  “Sure you don’t.” She laughed and then tipped back her hat. “You are becoming quite a celebrity around here. One more solved murder and we might have to build you a statue.”

  I blushed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Right.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Sometimes, I want to kiss you, others, I want to smack you so hard upside the head, you get whiplash.”

  “I’m just a coffee shop girl.” Lately, it was starting to feel as if I was anything but. “How is Elaine?”

  Chief Dalton rubbed at her chin as she scanned the mass of children. “She’s good. Inherited everything apparently. Since Mrs. Yarborough is going to be spending the rest of her life in a cell, she’ll even get the house.”

  “Is that legal?” I paused, thinking how stupid it sounded to ask a cop that. “I mean, wouldn’t Margaret still have control of the house, even locked up? She’s not dead.”

  “That, she isn’t,” she agreed. “But she never did have any real claim to the house. Apparently, it was solely in her husband’s name and he had a provisional clause in his will that stated that if anything were to happen to her—including incarceration, if you can believe it—Elaine was to receive everything.”

  “Wow.” I thought about that a moment. “I guess he never really trusted his wife, did he?”

  “Not at all. She was left almost completely out of the will. If she would have left well enough alone, she would have lived comfortably, but not as comfortably as Elaine and her mother. She couldn’t stand for it, though. She hired Mr. Carlisle to kill the girl who was standing in her way of a fortune.”

  “Where do you find a hired killer, anyway?”

  Patricia snorted. “She didn’t. As far as we can tell, the only person Mr. Carlisle has killed was Ms. Fairweather. Everything else was just boasting and rumor.”

  “Huh.” Go figure. “I would have thought the Yarboroughs being married would have meant Margaret would have a bigger say in the fate of the estate.”

  “It was all part of the prenup she agreed to when they were first married. And with everything that happened, you can bet Mr. Yarborough knew what his wife was capable of and made precautions against it.”

  “Krissy.”

  I groaned and turned to see the last person I wanted to talk to standing nearby, a sheepish grin on his face.

  “I’ll let you two chat,” the chief said before walking away with a knowing chuckle.

  “What do you want, Robert?” I’d thought he’d left town—hoped for it, actually—but apparently he hadn’t. “I
’m kind of busy right now.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time.”

  I resisted the urge to say, “Too late.” But there was no sense in starting a fight. I crossed my arms and waited for him to tell me what he had to say so he could go away, preferably for good.

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stalked you like that.”

  Surprise warred with my distrust. “No, you shouldn’t have,” I said, and then added, “but thank you.”

  “And I shouldn’t have cheated on you.” He looked down at his feet. “I was wrong to lie to you about it. I should have owned up to it right away.”

  Darn it. I was finding it harder and harder to hate him, the jerk. “It’s okay, Robert. It’s all in the past now.”

  “I guess I just want to know if you’ll ever see it in your heart to give me another chance?” He looked up, trying his best to look like a sad puppy, begging for his master’s forgiveness.

  I wasn’t buying it. I’d seen that look before and it always led to no good. “Robert, I have no interest in dating you. I’m sorry, but I just don’t.”

  The puppy-dog eyes cracked and turned hard. “You’ll change your mind,” he said. He looked around the church parking lot, nodding as if in approval. “I like it here. I think I might stay.”

  And with that grand declaration, he turned and walked away.

  “Great,” I grumbled, heading back for my car. Just what I needed, Robert hanging around, hounding me to get back with him. Maybe I could sic Buchannan on him.

  I resumed my place at Rita’s side and proceeded to hand out candy to the smiling faces. Even after everything, I found myself smiling right back. Despite Robert, despite the recent murder, and despite my indecision over two great men, things were looking up for me. Life was good.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Alex Erickson’s next Bookstore Café Mystery

  DEATH BY VANILLA LATTE

  coming in June 2017!

  1

  A contented sigh slipped through me as I finished the last page of the book I’d spent the entire morning reading. My orange cat, Misfit, was curled up in my lap, purring softly. A now-cold mug of coffee sat just out of reach on the coffee table where I’d left it about two hours ago. The soggy cookie inside would end up in the trash, but I was okay with that. This was about as close to bliss as I could come.

  My eyes strayed to the wall clock and I sighed. “I’m sorry,” I said, running a hand down the soft length of my cat.

  He glanced up at me and gave me a silent “please don’t” look.

  “I wish I could stay forever,” I told him. “But I have to work.” I picked him up, causing him to make a meow of protest, and then deposited him on the warm spot on the couch where I’d just been sitting. He glared at me once, swished his tail, and then jumped down. He then stretched, gave me one last angry look, and then padded his way to the bedroom where he’d pout for the rest of the day.

  I didn’t let his sour grapes shake my good mood, however. Whistling to myself, I rinsed out my coffee mug, put it face down in the sink, and then grabbed my purse and headed out the door.

  Afternoon sunlight warmed the inside of my car on a day that was just shy of being chilly. I drove, music blaring, and sang along like a fool, even when I really didn’t know the words. I passed by Phantastic Candies and waved to Jules Phan who’d poked his head out the door to see what all the ruckus was about. He returned the wave with a bemused smile.

  A few minutes later, I was parked down the street from Death by Coffee, having struggled to find a spot closer. I wondered if there was any way we might buy one of the nearby lots and turn it into a parking lot, but after only a moment’s thought, I decided it would probably cost too much. The shop might be doing better than ever, but that didn’t mean we could up and spend however much we wanted, even if it might help the business grow.

  Besides, the short walk would do me some good. I kept promising myself I’d work out, yet it seemed the only exercise I got these days came in the form of work. Maybe I’d start doing sit ups next week.

  And maybe I’d hit the lottery while I was at it. Both were just as likely.

  I pushed through the front door only slightly winded. Lena Allison and Jeff Braun were both behind the counter, hard at work. The line was short, but most of the tables were full, telling me it had been a pretty busy morning. Upstairs, Vicki was talking to a pair of middle aged women near the bookshelves, using her charms to sell a book or two.

  “Mrs. Hancock!” Lena said as I came around the counter. “It’s a great day, isn’t it? A really great day.” Her grin was a little too wide and she was dancing from foot to foot.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her and then turned to Jeff, who just about tripped over himself spinning away. He started filling a cup even though no one had ordered anything to drink.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” Lena ran her fingers through her short purple hair and refused to meet my eyes.

  “You called me Mrs. Hancock. You never do that.”

  She shrugged. “Thought I’d try it out. A little much?”

  “A little.”

  She spun around as a customer came to the counter and let out a big sigh before saying, “Welcome to Death by Coffee! What can I get you?”

  I watched her a moment, perplexed, and then with a shrug of my own, I went into the office to deposit my purse. I snatched the apron off the wall by the door, and then headed back to the front to start what was starting to look like a very peculiar day.

  “How did opening go?” I asked Jeff, who was still standing by the coffee pots. Today was the first day he’d worked open with Vicki and I was curious to see how he liked it.

  “It was okay, ma’am,” he said, lowering his gaze.

  “Krissy,” I reminded him. “Call me Krissy.”

  He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “Sorry.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Go ahead and clock out.”

  He scurried off, seemingly relieved I hadn’t kept him there any longer than I had. He’d never quite gotten over his shyness, but I was slowly trying to break through to him. He was a hard worker despite being something of a slow learner. He was working out just fine, which was a relief, considering how the last guy I hired turned out.

  I spent the next half hour making sure the coffee was fresh and replacing the cookies in the display case with fresh ones. I whistled while I worked, though I was still worried by Lena’s strange behavior. I’d had to run inventory all last week, and boy, let me tell you, that wasn’t something I enjoyed. No one had ever told me how hard owning your own business could be, especially when it came to making sure you were fully stocked. I’m forever thankful Vicki handled most of the behind the scenes bits because if it had been left to me, we’d have closed within months of opening. Let’s just say, money and paperwork aren’t my strong suit.

  The front door opened and a thin man with flyaway brown hair and glasses entered, carrying two heavy looking boxes. He was sweating profusely from the weight and looked as if he was seconds from collapse. His eyes flickered my way, but he didn’t come to the counter. Instead, he went straight up the stairs to where Vicki was waiting. She relieved him of one of the boxes, and together, they carried them to the back.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Stock delivery?” Lena replied, though she winced as she said it.

  “We get our books shipped,” I said. “He’s not our usual delivery guy.”

  “Maybe he’s new.”

  “Okay, where’s his uniform then?” I glanced out the front door. “Or his truck?”

  Lena shrugged, and then spun on her heel to walk straight into the back.

  What in the world is going on here?

  I was about to head upstairs and ask Vicki about it when the door opened again and my answer strode through.

  “Hey, Buttercup.”

  I sucked in a shocked breath a
nd staggered back a step. “Dad?”

  James Hancock, retired mystery author, and father to yours truly, smiled as he walked over to me. His beard was trimmed, as was what was left of his hair. He was smiling and I swear I saw a tear in his eye when he held out his arms to me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, coming around the counter to give him a hug. “Not that I mind that you came. You never told me you were coming!”

  He chuckled—a dry raspy sound that resonated through my entire body and brought memories of long nights sitting around a crackling fire, him typing away on his typewriter, and then later, laptop, and me reading a favorite novel.

  “I had business and I wanted to surprise you.” His voice was gravelly from years of trouble with his throat. I always found it fit him just right, made him sound like one of those old time detectives with a cigarette hanging loose from his lips, calling all the women dames, much like quite a few of his creations.

  “Well, I’m definitely surprised!” And then realization dawned. I turned to find Lena grinning from behind the counter. “You knew!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew.” She was practically beaming.

  I turned back to Dad, not quite believing he was actually there. When I’d moved to Pine Hills, I’d left him behind, knowing how much it would hurt to be away from him, but needing the fresh start. It was surprising how good it felt to have him here now, even though I’d been blindsided by his sudden appearance.

  “Why are you here exactly?” I asked, suddenly worried something was wrong. “Are you sick?”

  He looked surprised for an instant before his smile returned. “No, I’m not sick.” He cleared his throat, rubbed at his beard. He looked down at his hands for a second, before looking up and giving me a sideways smile. “I sort of have a new book coming out.”

  “You what?” I blinked at him. “But you’re retired!”

  “Semiretired,” he countered. “You know I couldn’t just up and quit. The story was burning in me for a while now, so I decided to go ahead and write it down.” He took me by the arms and looked me in the eyes. “I swear I took care of myself this time. No fasting or skipping showers just to finish up a page.”