A Frothy Fiasco: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  Curvy body? Yeah, it’s curvy alright, in all the wrong places.

  I stood there in my underwear and saw nothing but flaws. A lot of my extra 20 pounds was, well…let’s just say between my knees and my waist. If that fold at my belly button got any more pronounced, I would be back to one-piece swim suits for the summer – and I was only about one cheeseburger away from that eventuality. As it is, I still try to sit down on those rare visits to the beach so it looks like the crease is from bending forward, and I arch my back when I’m standing to minimize it. The arm fat was not too bad, and the “girls” actually benefited a little from the extra weight.

  Then there’s my hair – my dull, flimsy, fly-away, dirty blonde hair. I mean, it’s clean, but the color is dull. It’s getting a little longer now, so I pulled it into a ponytail with my hand. Not bad. Hildie is always trying to get me to go to her hair stylist for a hot oil treatment, and Essie thinks I need a wave perm. Well…the perm isn’t going to happen. I doubt if my hair would hold a curl. It would just frizz out. This heat and humidity wasn’t doing my hair any favors either. It was still wet now, so I rubbed in a little styling gel to keep it flat.

  I thought about last night as I put on bright yellow Bermuda shorts and an almost Hawaiian pattern tank top to sell the “cool” frappe and smoothie image – and to keep cool myself.

  Eli did call a little after midnight. He was pretty tight-lipped about the investigation, but he said he didn’t really have a list of suspects yet. He did tell me, though, that there had been several other break-ins and thefts in the past couple of weeks, and I knew a lot of the victims. Mike Barton had his cell phone taken from his car while he was mowing at Martha White’s place. I know her grand-niece is coming for the summer, but I haven’t seen Janice around yet, so maybe Trevor Barton is involved. And Mr. Jackson at the hardware store had his bank deposit in a locked canvas zipper envelope stolen right off the counter when he turned away for a minute. Too bad he didn’t have security cameras. The next morning the checks had been slipped back through the mail slot in his door, but all the cash was gone. A thief with a conscience? Or kids who knew they couldn’t pass the checks off without getting caught. Me thinks Essie might be onto something.

  The only new thing in town was the kids who came for the summer, but Eli hoped it wasn’t them, and I hoped even more that it wasn’t Toe who robbed Essie or the others. That would break our hearts. No way it could be Toe. I’ve known him since I was knee high. Unless he was going off the deep end, no way he’d steal from anyone.

  I didn’t want to ask Eli, so I Googled “Florida police code 5,” and it didn’t say heat stroke. It said Homicide. Possible homicide, then, according to Eli’s text to Karen. Poor old Mrs. Portswain. I only met her two or three times at picnics or other events at the retirement village, and she was such a sweetheart. Always wearing her Miss South Carolina tiara to big events. I remember her saying that she was going to be buried in it.

  There was nothing I could do about any of it now, so I finished getting ready for work. The humidity hit me like a brick wall as soon as I left the house. I love Florida, but the humid hot air causes immediate wilting in both hair and attitude.

  The old girls beat me in this morning. They had already mounted the big cork bulletin board on the wall by the door. It had just been leaning there for a couple of weeks. Eli brought it in when the police replaced their old-fashioned bulletin board with a new magnetic white board. They had used this one for their sort of “vision wall” where they would post pictures of suspects and look at timelines and connections, connecting people and events with yarn looped around push pins or thumb tacks.

  “Whatcha doin’?” I asked Essie, who was busy writing something on a three-inch strip of poster board that she had cut off the bottom of one of my window signs.

  “I’m making a Visiting Family board so we can welcome all the kids and grand kids to town and give the old-timers a good way to get to know them. Got my Polaroid here to take snapshots of all the young lovelies when they pass by or stop in.” Her big white Polaroid camera that was once the hit of the family parties with the instant pictures it spit out was sitting on a table by her purse, along with a stack of film boxes.

  Hildie leaned towards me and whispered, “It’s really a suspect board so we can figure out which one of these kids is the thief who robbed us.”

  “Call it what you want, Hildie,” Essie said as she tacked her Welcome, Visiting Family! banner at the top of the bulletin board. “I know they’re not all criminals…”

  “No, but they are all suspects.”

  “For now, yes.”

  Just then I heard one of those shrill repetitive beeps that trucks make when they’re backing up. I looked across the street, and a truck with one of those cherry-picker baskets was hoisting a flat metal sign up above the storefront across the street. Al’s Holiday Rental, it said in big orange letters on a sea-blue background. BIKES SKATEBOARDS ROLLER BLADES was in big letters at the bottom of the sign. The painting on the window added a lot of other items they carried, like croquet, bocce ball, volleyball, picnic and barbecue equipment, as well as a lot of things for the beach, which was a bit of a drive from here.

  “Looks like Carmen and Albert are finally getting ready to open,” Essie said.

  “You already know them? “ I asked, a little surprised, as I had never seen them until yesterday.

  Hildie smiled and fielded the question for her sister. “Have you never met your Aunt Essie before? She knows everything and everyone. We should bring them a nice cup of coffee.” She thought she knew everyone and everything. I believe she stepped up her game when she found out about Gladys and her liquor cabinet masquerading as her purse, or Jeannette’s pistol packin ways.

  Once the sign was secured by a bolt or two, Albert started setting bicycles out in front on the sidewalk on one side of the doorway. He seemed to be maybe in his early 40s. Carmen and a young girl were wheeling out tandem bikes and setting them up on the other side of the entrance. Carmen was a stunning golden Latina goddess, maybe in her mid-30s.

  “The girl is Moira, their daughter,” Essie told us. “She’s 14 and will be a freshman in high school this fall. The family moved here from Cleveland. Carmen grew up in Florida, and they just wanted to start their own business, and Carmen wanted to get out of the snow belt. Seem like a nice family.”

  They saw us all staring at them through our window and gave us a nice wave and a smile. Then Carmen said a few words to her husband, and she and Moira headed across the street to visit us.

  “Welcome to paradise!” I joked. “I’m Lily Parker, and these are my aunts and fellow proprietors, Essie and Hildie.”

  “Oh, I know these girls,” Carmen said, giving each of them a big hug. “And this is…”

  “Moira,” I said so I wouldn’t seem like the only one who had no clue about what was going on with the new family in town. “What a beautiful girl. The 9th grade, huh? Would you ladies like a cup of coffee? Or we could make an iced coffee or a strawberry-banana smoothie if you’d like something cold.”

  Moira looked at her mother with big eyes of desire.

  “It looks like the smoothie might work, if it’s not too much trouble. We’ll share one.”

  “Great!” I looked at Hildie, who just gave me a wide-eyed look and a nearly invisible shake of her head. It looks like I’ll be making most of the smoothies around here. “Come on, and sit at the counter.”

  I got everything in the blender and had a minute to wait until it was ready.

  “Yeah, I’m a little worried about the coffee business this summer, Carmen, especially with this heat. Nobody wants hot drinks, and they don’t know about our cold drinks yet.”

  “Well,” Carmen said thoughtfully, “The heat will be good for us, and then when it’s cool and rainy you’ll be doing well and our shop will be slow.” Then she and Moira looked at each as if they had something on their minds.

  “But, you know, a lot of people have to have their c
offee in the morning year round, no matter if it is hot or it’s cold outside.”

  Moira gave her mother another look, like “Come on, Mom…ask her.”

  “I know I do,” I said as I refilled my cup and then poured the smoothie into two tall glasses. “I really wish I was on the corner down there where all the cars go through to get on the highway to Orlando. But I don’t know how we could make a drive-through service window there anyway.”

  This time Moira jabbed her mom with her elbow.

  “You know,” Carmen said with a nod to her daughter, “Moira joined the Campfire troop here, and she’s in charge of fundraising. A lot of the mothers don’t want their daughters to sell cookies for health reasons, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’re in the age of yoga and yogurt.”

  Carmen smiled and nodded. “A coffee shop was one of the things we thought of doing when we moved here, but we knew we could never have coffee as good as yours or the connections to get the customers.”

  “Mom…” Moira said, a little impatient.

  “My uncle, who has the sign company, has a lot of connections, and already got a license for a little non-profit booth for the Campfire Girls right in the middle of Adeline Road, right here on the corner. It’s right in the center island median where the trolley cars used to pull in to pick up passengers. He’s already built a sign and a booth, and we were wondering if you would supply the coffee.”

  “Not for free,” Moira said like a businesswoman ready to make a deal. “The business plan is that we would work the booth every workday morning from 6:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m. We would bring air pots filled with your coffee. You would supply the coffee, the cups, the sugar, and all that stuff. We will sell them for three dollars a cup. We will give you two dollars and keep one for the troop. We weren’t sure, but we thought that maybe one dollar would cover all your costs, and then we would each make one dollar a cup, and we would do all the work…except making the coffee.”

  Essie and Hildie had already gathered around, but I was still too flabbergasted to speak. “Uh…um…”

  “Daddy has a dozen big one-gallon air pots for the rental business that we can use. They hold ten 12-ounce cups each. We’ll have three girls there manning the booth…”

  “And I will be there at first to supervise them,” Carmen added.

  “…I’ll dispense the coffee and take the money – cash only – and one girl will take care of the condiments and napkins and keep the cars moving, and the third girl will run the empty pots back to you and pick up a full one.”

  Essie looked at me. “What are you waiting for Lily? Tell the girl she’s got a deal.”

  “Yes…let’s do it.”

  “Great. We’ll start tomorrow.”

  “Smile,” Hildie said to Moira, aiming the camera at her. She snapped the picture and the developing photograph rolled out.

  “Thank you so much, ladies. This means so much to Moira and the other girls. I’ll send Moira back with six air pots this afternoon. I have to unpack and wash them first. If you could have two filled with regular and one with decaf at 6:15, that would be great. And then you can get the next three ready when they take those. We’ll see how that works out. And if there is coffee left over, we will pay for it.”

  “I’m very impressed with this girl – and with you, Carmen. Somehow, I’m very sure that your rental business will be a big success with strong forces like you and Moira behind it.”

  The pair left to help get their new rental business open, and Moira was jumping up and down all the way back across the street.

  “Hildie, Moira’s not involved in any criminal activity,” I said. “Why did you take her picture?”

  “Of course she’s not, and she’s a resident not a visitor too. But we want people to know who she is. We wouldn’t want her to feel left out.”

  “And if we are selective about who we take pictures of,” Essie added, as she peeled the cover paper off the photo and pinned it to the board, “It will not look like the family wall we want it to appear to be.”

  The front door opened and a familiar face walked in. He was wearing bib overalls with a few splotches of white paint here and there.

  “How is everyone this fine morning?” Toe said to us girls with a big smile. “Your arch is painted and looking like brand new, and I put the paint can next to the steps so it wouldn’t drip any paint on the concrete. How’s that for service?” He asked with a grin. But his toothy smile quickly faded as he saw the three of us with our arms folded and not the usual welcoming look in our eyes.

  “Jumpin’ George and Martha…what in the world is going on?”

  Chapter Five

  It was another manic Monday. The regular early commuters stopped in to get their go-cup of coffee, maybe two dozen or so. We made sure they all knew about our new machine and cold beverages. I was a little worried that we might lose some of our profit margin if they all started using Moira’s drive-thru, but, hey, it was for the Campfire Girls.

  I called Tony to take him up on his offer to sell me some coffee out of his trunk. He would stop in after lunch. We had just enough coffee to last us until Wednesday when Hank would deliver our regular order, so Moira’s sales might make us a little short. I hoped he had a few boxes of cream, sweetener, and stir sticks too. Our paper cups had the Coffee Cabana logo, and we had plenty of those.

  Oh, yeah – Toe. I held up the bag that contained his pen. “There’s my pen. I figured I must have lost it here.”

  “But you didn’t Toe,” I said. “We found it at Essie and Hildie’s house.”

  “That’s impossible. I haven’t been there, well except for this morning, for over two months.”

  “So did your pen sprout legs and walk itself over there?” Essie asked.

  “Are you ladies accusing me of something?”

  I gave Essie a hard look and then turned back to Toe. “No Toe, but do you have any clue why your pen ended up there, especially after a robbery at their house?”

  “No, and I was here all day with you and Harvey, Essie,” he protested.

  “I didn’t see you in church yesterday morning for the 9 o’clock service before we got here at 10. You’re usually ushering or sitting in the back row.”

  “I told you…the cold water handle on my bathroom sink started spouting water, so I had to fix it. I couldn’t go to church and let it flood the house.”

  “Pretty convenient water leak, if you ask me.”

  Hildie walked over and patted Toe on the shoulder. “Now just relax, Toe.“ Then she gave Essie the stink eye. “You too, Essie. We’re pretty sure one of these kids coming through town did it.” Hildie patted his hand. “Now just eat your muffin and drink your coffee. It’ll be all right.” Toe grudgingly took a bite of his muffin . “It is a little odd though how one of your new pens got underneath our end table.”

  Toe swallowed the muffin bite quickly. “Well, I’m going to stay right here until something else gets stolen so you’ll know I didn’t do it. I’ll sleep here if I have to.”

  The door opened and Harvey walked in. “Hey, Toe…did you borrow my little iPad for some reason? I left it in my cart right next to your truck while you were gassing up a few minutes ago, and I ran inside to get a newspaper. When I came back out it was gone.”

  Toe planted his face in the palms of his two hands with his elbows on the table. Essie and Hildie walked over to the counter, looking at each other with a troubled look.

  “I thought you woulda learned your lesson about leaving things in that cart after the episode with Lucille,” Essie said, a little condescendingly.

  “Well, I don’t leave the keys in it any more,” Harvey answered. “Bring me a coffee and one of those big cookies.” This really had Harvey riled up…changing his menu item from muffin to cookie was like sacrilege.

  We were on a block with the drug store, a candy shop, a store with video games and music CDs, and some of those little boutiques with fashionable inexpensive jewelry or sportswear for girls,
so the street was teeming with groups of kids walking, rolling, and biking by. Hildie was outside with a big smile getting as many Polaroid photos as she could, and Essie was pinning them up on the board as soon as they finished developing.

  The Coffee Cabana was a quiet, mournful place right now, covered by a black cloud of suspicion and doubt. Temperatures were rising both inside and out. No one was talking, and everybody seemed to have their backs to each other. We’d known Meghan Barton and Lucille Janos for years, and they both turned out to be killers. Could it be that our Toe was into serial larceny? Lord spare us!

  The door opened, and a familiar smile brightened up the room. “Good morning, All!” Tony said as he walked in with a case of coffee beans on his shoulder. He looked at all the serious faces, and then he looked at me. I plastered on a closed-mouth smile and raised my eyebrows.

  He set the box on the counter. “What’s going on? Did the children of the corn steal all your souls or something?”

  I’m pretty sure he was mixing his movie metaphors, but I didn’t know enough about horror films to correct him. “No. It’s more like all the cupcakes are gone, and one of our favorite people has frosting on his face.” Maybe that was too bold.

  ‘I told you, I didn’t steal any jewelry or iPads or anything else!” Toe declared without looking up.

  “I’m sure it’s one of the little darlings,” Essie threw in, studying the bulletin board carefully for signs of criminal characteristics on the faces of the children.

  I turned the radio on so the music would drown out some of the awkward silence. “Thanks, Tony. It’s a little tense around here, as you can see. Nobody’s going to be at ease until we find out who’s behind this string of robberies. Hey, you got any condiments I can get from you?”

  “Sure thing, Lily. What do you need? I’ll go grab it for ya.”

  He went out to his car parked out front, right behind Toe’s well-worn pickup truck filled with ladders, toolboxes, paint cans, and other handyman paraphernalia. He brought in my order and asked if new business was requiring the extra order. I told him no, not yet, but we had high hopes that his machine would help us out. I also told him about Moira’s new business operation, which he thought was pretty cool. It hurt to write him a check for more than a hundred dollars, but maybe over the next few weeks I would get my money back if enough commuters stopped for coffee at the corner.