A Killer Latte

by Tonya Kappes

  “Are you sure we should look at it?” She lowered her voice, being purposely mysterious.

  “I’m positive.” I gave a hard nod. “What’s the harm? It’s your camera, and he hasn’t asked.”

  She waved me over to the hallway, and I followed her to a small mechanical room containing the hot water heater and HVAC unit, along with all the electrical boxes to run the old cottage house renovated to be the real estate office. She walked over to a tiny black box in the wall, where she opened the door and exposed the security system.

  “That’s it?” I questioned.

  “Yeah. It’s interesting how small they can make these things now.” She shrugged and pulled out a USB stick. “Here you go. The last forty-eight hours. It resets after that, so we should probably download it.”

  I took it and followed her out of the room to the office.

  “You can’t send it through email because the file would be too big. At least, that’s what they told me.” She opened the door of the desk and pointed to the port where the USB stick fit in.

  As I shoved it in, she booted up the software for the security cameras and started the footage.

  “Can you fast-forward? We don’t have forty-eight hours to watch.” I gnawed on my lip and looked out the office’s front windows, and Spencer was standing on the sidewalk across the street, pointing and talking to another officer. “I think Spencer is splitting up the offices and shops between him and another officer to ask for any footage.”

  “I think…” She muttered something else that I didn’t understand and fiddled with the mouse attached to the keyboard. “Right about here.”

  I stood behind her and watched over her shoulder as the morning in downtown Honey Springs unfolded. There were joggers, bikers, strollers, and cars that passed in front of Central Park.

  “There’s my car,” I pointed out when I noticed myself on my way to Aunt Maxi’s. “It should be coming soon, because after I left there was when I saw his body.”

  Mom and I sat in silence. On more than one occasion, we would lean in a little to get a better look. It was like we were watching a horror film.

  “Is that something?” Mom touched the computer screen when someone was walking on the far sidewalk near the gazebo in Central Park.

  “Yeah. Can you make the picture bigger?” I asked and watched as Stephen Lemon walked up to the covered bust of himself. “What’s in his hand?”

  Mom had used the mouse to click on the small target icon on the screen to make it take up all the area. “It looks like a bag.”

  Mom and I both leaned in more.

  “Oh my gosh,” I gasped. “It’s the money bag. He told me someone took the money.”

  “What’s he doing now?”

  We watched as he pulled the covering off the bust and bent down.

  “Is he taking it off the podium?” Mom asked.

  “No.” I suddenly remembered a small detail from Aunt Maxi’s interview with Daisy that I thought was small but in reality was huge. “There’s a trick door in the bottom of the bust.”

  “Trick door?” Mom’s head twisted around, and she looked at me.

  “Yeah. Daisy told Aunt Maxi in an interview how Stephen loved to put a little secret compartment in all the busts he gives to each town. He puts a little something in them for when someone discovers the compartment.” I watched in awe as he opened a door and started to take out stacks of cash and put them in the bag. “She said maybe a hundred dollars or even some movie memorabilia, not four hundred thousand dollars.” I glanced to the left to look out the window again to see where Spencer was. This was definitely something he needed to see.

  “Roxy! Did you see that?” Mom jumped out of her chair and threw her hands over her eyes.

  “What?” I turned back to look at the screen.

  Stephen Lemon was on the ground, like I had found him. The bag was gone.

  “Someone just shot him,” Mom cried out. “And I saw it.”

  “Rewind it.” I patted her to go back and sit down. “Did you recognize them?” I asked her right before the office door opened.

  Spencer Shepard was standing in the door.

  “Spencer!” Mom hurried over. “My security camera shows Stephen Lemon getting shot,” Mom said in a shaky voice. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

  Spencer’s brows rose. He slid his glance toward me. “Really?” There was an edge to his voice. He didn’t look very happy with me. “I thought you were going to see Maxine and not snoop.”

  Mom was busy using the mouse to get the footage to the exact spot where Stephen had been shot. Spencer was busy fussing at me.

  “I wasn’t. I had all good intentions, and then I got this crazy idea that Mom’s camera might’ve caught the killer, so I turned around. And I was right.” My voice was soft but alarming.

  “Here!” Mom gestured us over, bouncing on her toes. “Right here.”

  Spencer and I stood behind her after she pushed the play button.

  I felt like we were watching a real-life scary movie. The figure came into the view of the camera from the front of Central Park, and Stephen had entered the park on the right.

  It was so calculated that if someone had been right there watching, they might’ve missed it.

  “It’s like they knew Stephen had something in the trick compartment.” Mom made an excellent point.

  “Trick compartment?” Spencer asked.

  “Yeah, on the interview with Daisy, she tells Aunt Maxi about it. I’ll let you listen to it, but I didn’t think it was very important until now.” My eyes grew as the killer turned around. The camera got a perfect view of him. “Wesley,” I gasped, throwing my hand over my mouth. “Wesley, the key grip. He’s the sniper and the killer. And now he has Callie.”

  I grabbed Spencer by the arm and took a handful of his shirt, fisting it.

  “You’ve got to stop the movie crew caravan from heading out of town. I’ve got to get Callie back.” Everything Patrick had told me about how Wesley had changed Callie’s name to Daisy and how he was not going to the next movie started to make sense.

  There were photos that Aunt Maxi had taken of Daisy and Wesley talking on the set. They were close.

  “He did like her a lot.” Spencer had already started making phone calls. “He would probably do anything for her and especially for the jewels.”

  “Now he has the jewels, four hundred thousand dollars, and Callie!” I screamed, grabbing my bag, flinging it across my body, and reaching for my keys.

  “Oh no. You aren’t going,” Spencer warned.

  “Yes I am. I’m going to get that cat back. You can get the rest back.” There was no way I wasn’t going to go and get the cat.

  “You can’t stop her.” Mom shook her head and had already ejected the USB stick before giving it to Spencer.

  “Fine. You can ride with me. And no funny stuff. You stand back and wait until I tell you to get the cat.” His tone told me there was no room for negotiation, and that was fine with me.

  I sat in the passenger seat of his car in silence as he made all sorts of calls and put out APBs to all the surrounding counties and major towns. He was pretty smart in making sure he didn’t turn on his lights and siren until we were a distance away from Central Park so as not to alert the media.

  It would be hard to miss a caravan of tractor trailers with the film production’s logo heading out of Honey Springs. I wiggled my fingers and played with my fingernails nervously, hoping and praying we would catch up to them.

  We zoomed past my house on our way out of town. We were going so fast that Patrick’s truck in the driveway was a blur. If he only knew this was me in the car with Spencer, he would have a fit.

  “I think I see one of them rounding the curve ahead.” Spencer lifted his pointer finger from gripping the wheel. “You will remain in the car until I gesture for you to go.”

  Suddenly, there were more and more sounds of sirens that were coming from ahead of us. When I saw the brake lights of th
e tractor trailers ahead of us come on, my stomach curled into a knot, and butterflies tickled my throat.

  “It’s go time.” Spencer threw the car in Park and jumped out. In a fluid motion, he’d unlatched his gun from the holder and had two hands on it, pointing it directly at the truck. “Sheriff! Get out of the truck with your hands up!”

  I shifted in the seat to see which angle was going to give me a better view.

  “Sheriff! Come out with your hands up!” He yelled even louder when there was no movement.

  The officers on the front end that had stopped the caravan were all in their cop stances and had eyes on Spencer as if they were awaiting their orders.

  Spencer gave two quick head nods, and all the officers took off running toward the trucks. It was like they had a perfect plan for which truck each one of them was going to.

  I watched in awe as they would jerk open the doors, followed up by a lot of screaming, gun jabbing, and production crew members hopping out of the rigs with their hands in the air.

  Wesley wasn’t among them.

  Spencer screamed one last time at the truck directly in front of us, giving them a specific warning before the door flung open, and someone had pushed Wesley out, flinging him out of the truck and down on the pavement.

  Spencer leapt into action, keeping a steady gun pointed at the truck and one heavy foot on Wesley’s back. Two other crew members jumped out of the truck with their hands up in the air.

  “Come on, come on.” My legs bounced. I was anxious to get my hands on Callie, and I knew that the more they had that door open, if she wasn’t in a cage, she would jump out and run.

  Another officer ran over to Spencer, replacing his foot on Wesley. I couldn’t take it. I knew what Spencer had told me, but I had to get Callie.

  I jerked the door open and ran to the cab of the truck Wesley had gotten out of.

  “Roxy! I told you to stand down!” Spencer warned me when I stuck my hand on the handle of the big rig and hoisted myself up on the footrest to look into the truck.

  “Hey, Callie.” A rush of relief swept over me when I saw her lying in the front seat, curled up like I’d disturbed her sleeping. “You’re such a cat.” I laughed and reached over to grab her with both hands.

  As I turned around, my feet started to slide off the footrest. I tucked Callie in my arm like a football and tried to grab anything I could to keep from falling.

  It was too late. The object I grabbed apparently wasn’t anchored. When I landed on my back, Callie was still tucked tight in one hand and the black bag of money was gripped in my other hand.

  Money and jewels from the unzipped bag spilled out all over the pavement.

  “We had no idea until you stopped us that he did this,” one of the crew members was desperately trying to tell Spencer. “We were, like, man, what did you do?”

  “Yeah. We had no clue, or we’d never have let him get away with it.” The other member from their truck looked so scared.

  Wesley was now standing up with the cuffs on him. The officer read him his rights.

  “She begged me. She was dying,” Wesley continued to say like he was in the right and on a moral high ground.

  “The jewels aren’t yours. And killing Stephen Lemon for the money he stole wasn’t your right either.” The officer grabbed Stephen by the arm and led him to the cop car.

  With Callie in my arms, I didn’t care what they did with the money or the jewels. We headed back to the car, where I continued to hold her tight, talk to her, and give her lots of rubs while Spencer, along with the rest of the officers, interviewed the crew members.

  “You certainly didn’t do what I told you to do.” Spencer sat back in the driver’s seat with his hands resting on his thighs.

  “I had to get her.” I wasn’t about to apologize.

  “You could’ve been hurt. And your husband would kill me.” He wasn’t lying. Patrick would really kill him. He reached over and gave Callie a two-finger rub on the top of her head.

  “I knew I wasn’t in danger. I knew you had my back.” I smiled as the satisfaction showed. “We make a good team.”

  “No.” He shook his head and started the car. “We are not a team.”

  “That’s what you told me last time I helped you on a case.” I didn’t have to gloat too much to prove I was right.

  “No. We are not a team.” He threw the gearshift into Drive, and after doing a U-turn, we headed back to town.

  EIGHTEEN

  “I can’t get over how good you look. I mean, I probably would look good, too, with my Cherokee coloring and all.” Loretta Bebe was hunkered over Aunt Maxi like a sweat bee.

  “Low-retta, honey.” I could tell by Aunt Maxi’s tone that she was going to say something about how she knew Loretta went over to Lisa Stalh’s house and used that tanning bed she kept in her garage.

  “We all wish we had your coloring,” I interrupted and sat down the two cups of hot tea in my hand. “One for you,” I told Loretta. “And one for you.” I slid the other one in front of Aunt Maxi.

  Mom had brought Aunt Maxi down to the coffeehouse since the doctors hadn’t cleared her to drive. It was actually refreshing to see the two of them getting along.

  “I am blessed,” Aunt Maxi said.

  When Loretta nodded her head in agreement, the rolls on her neck stretched, exposing the super white skin in the folds. Aunt Maxi’s eyes grew, and her mouth opened.

  “Can I get you a piece of the blueberry crumb cake with my famous Daisy Lemon Latte?” I didn’t let Aunt Maxi say what was on her mind, exposing Loretta’s real skin color.

  “Daisy Lemon Latte?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. I changed the name in honor of Daisy.” I still smiled at the memory of how happy Daisy was when she’d ordered the latte from me that day.

  “I’d love one.” Mom’s features became more animated. “And a big piece of the crumb cake.”

  “I’ll be right back.” The coffeehouse was very busy for an afternoon, but I believed it was because tourists felt safe after Aunt Maxi’s article in People magazine had come out.

  I was so proud of her. It was a dream come true, and the copy she’d been carrying around, she would show to anyone who just looked her way.

  Spencer was right about Patrick. Patrick was furious with me when he found out I was in the car with Spencer when the arrest happened. It took him a couple of days to even begin to talk to me. Now he responded to me in one-word sentences no matter how hard I tried to talk to him.

  The bell over the coffeehouse dinged. Louise and Crissy had walked in with Becca English and another woman behind them.

  “I’m going to adopt Callie.” Crissy sidled up to the counter with a big grin on her face.

  “I’m here to sign off on it.” Louise grabbed Crissy’s file that I kept next to the cash register. “I’m so glad you got her back.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I let out a long sigh and put the finishing touches on Mom’s latte while Crissy signed the paperwork at the counter. “At the expense of my marriage,” I groaned under my breath and eagerly looked up when the bell dinged again, and I was hoping it was Patrick.

  He’d not even stopped by the coffeehouse to see me like he usually did on a daily basis. I knew he was stressed about the light work around Honey Springs, but he didn’t take into account that the coffeehouse was doing great. I hated to admit that Daisy’s death had brought a lot of tourists to see Honey Springs, giving me a lot more customers on top of the usual tourists.

  I understood him about not needing Aunt Maxi’s dream home anymore, and it would make a great home for someone.

  “Mom,” I called out and held the drink up in the air for her to come get. With a slice of the knife, I cut her a nice-size piece of the crumb cake and put it on a cute antique plate.

  “This looks so good.” She reached for her food.

  “Mom.” I put my hand on hers. “Can you do me a favor and draw up the paperwork to sell Patrick’s house?”

  “S
ell the house?” She looked as shocked as I felt saying the words. “You love that house. That’s the house where Patrick first kissed you, from what I heard. It wasn’t like you told me anything while you were here every summer.”

  “We aren’t going to go down that road, are we?” I wanted her to know that was in the past. “You have fallen in love with Honey Springs. You’ve met a lot of people. I’m sure you know someone who would love to have it.”

  “Are you sure? Have you told Patrick, because he’s begged me to talk to you.” She pinched off a piece of the cake and popped it into her mouth. “I told him that once you made peace with it, you’d let it go.”

  “I have. We are paying the monthly bills, and I don’t want to move out of my cabin, so I thinks it’s best.” The decision felt good. It felt like the right thing to do.

  “You aren’t doing this in haste because he’s a little upset with you right now?” Mom was really making sure. “I know you, and you’d do practically anything to have him return to the doting husband he is.”

  “No. I’m positive.” My heart told me it was right.

  “Okay.” She pushed the antique plate back toward me. “I’ll take this cake to go because I’ve got a new contract to get signed. I know the perfect family who will love that house.”

  “You’re the best.” I reached under the counter and grabbed one of the to-go boxes with the Bean Hive logo sticker on it. I put the cake in it and ran my hand over the logo, remembering the first day I’d opened and Patrick had come in to fix the oven and stove.

  Looking down at Sassy sleeping on her bed behind the counter made me really think about him.

  When he’d come into the coffeehouse a couple of years ago, I’d had no idea it was him, but he knew instantly it was me. I’d been so mean and refused to talk to him or even let him do the work, but Aunt Maxi had owned the building and forced me to let him do it.

  That house had created a lot of unnecessary heartache between us when it held such a great memory of that first kiss. But it was time to let go of it and create new memories.

  “Hey, Becca,” I greeted my afternoon employee. “You’re here a little early. You aren’t on the schedule until tomorrow.”