Tea, Treats & Terror

by Carolyn L. Dean

  TEA, TREATS, and TERROR: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 9)

  By Carolyn L. Dean

  Want to know about new releases, sale pricing, and exclusive content? My email newsletter is HERE. It is spam-free, and only sent out when there’s something new, on sale, or FREE. I PROMISE. I hate junk mail, too.

  TEA, TREATS, and TERROR: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 9) is copyright 2017 by Carolyn L. Dean. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  Dedication

  For Victoria. I’m so proud to be your Mom!

  For Don and Diane Shipley

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  WRITING BOOKMARK

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean

  Chapter 1

  “I’m going to have to kill him. It’s as simple as that.” Meg shook her head in disgust, even as Amanda laid a sympathetic hand over hers. “Murder him. Maybe I’ll have him choke on a coconut crumpet. I’ll bet Truman knows a good place to stash a dead guy.”

  Amanda tried not to laugh, even though she was a bit alarmed. She’d been sitting in the coffee-scented warmth of Cuppa for the last twenty minutes, and probably nineteen of those had been spent listening to her sweet friend complain about the owner of the brand-new tea shop, Honeybee Tea. According to Meg, Ruben Bishop was Evil Incarnate, and Amanda wasn’t quite sure if it was because Meg’d had a run-in with him, or because his new business was taking a fat bite out of Cuppa’s profits.

  “I don’t think there is such a thing as a coconut crumpet,” she offered helpfully, then her voice turned serious. “Hey, don’t talk about killing someone like that, okay? In Ravenwood Cove, that sort of conversation gets you all kinds of bad attention.”

  “Fine,” Meg said, pouting a bit, “—but if the owner of Honeybee Tea winds up having a mysterious accident in his own lace-infested restaurant, don’t count on me to come to his funeral.” The corners of her mouth curled up and she gave a little giggle. “Unless I wear a red dress and have a tall Cuppa mocha clutched in my hand, that is.” She sighed in mock satisfaction at the mental image. “Or a great big margarita.”

  “Maybe it’s best if you two just avoid each other,” Amanda suggested, but Meg’s eyebrows shot up in protest before she’d even finished the sentence.

  “Avoid each other?” she asked, the pitch of her voice getting higher and higher. “After what he’s done? I knew he was trouble when I first saw him at the Sandford Gallery art show last week, sucking down the free smoked salmon. Did you know that there’s a new rumor around town that Cuppa sells day-old pastries as fresh, and that our kitchen isn’t clean?” She waved an adamant finger toward the back room. “That floor is so spotless I’d eat off it myself. Heck, I spend half my time cleaning around here, and Tory does, too. Some people are even saying that we use margarine to make our muffins, and that’s a flat-out lie. There’s never been an ounce of that fake stuff anywhere in Cuppa, and there never will be. All the best ingredients, all the time, Tory says, and that includes the best butter we can get. It’s a good thing Tory’s not back from vacation yet, or she’d march over to that tea shop and sock Ruben Bishop right in the eye.”

  Amanda knew Tory Sherwood, the owner, was a stickler for quality, and she believed every word her agitated friend told her. Putting up a calming hand, she said, “Everyone who lives here knows Cuppa’s reputation for the best pastries in town, Meg. You don’t need to worry about that. Did you try talking to him about these rumors that are going around?”

  Meg screwed her face up in distaste. “Talk to that snake?” She stood up and retied the strings on her spotless apron, jerking them taut in her anger. “I’d rather kiss a goat.”

  Amanda laughed. “I don’t think you’d like that much,” she offered, then changed the subject. “I hear you’re doing the cake and some of the catering for the upcoming Mad Hatter Tea Party. It feels kind of weird not to have it at the Inn.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but she had to admit to herself that when she’d heard the Mad Hatter Tea Party was going to be held at Truman’s bookstore, she felt a bit put out. Truman was a good friend and had been dating Meg for several months, but the gracious old Inn had hosted dozens of tea parties and weddings and affairs in the past. A bookstore definitely seemed out of the norm.

  Meg could read her friend’s feelings, even if Amanda was trying to hide them, and she shrugged. “I guess the committee wanted somewhere a little more…oddball than your place. It’s supposed to be quirky and different, not formal. Besides,” she said loyally, “—I think Truman’s going to be a great Mad Hatter. He’s entertaining, he’s got a great attitude, he doesn’t mind dressing up—”

  “—and he’s got the right appearance, too,” Amanda teased. “I think the Mad Hatter should have purple hair.”

  Meg stuck her tongue out at her friend. “Quit being mean to my buy,” she said in a teasing tone. “He likes looking a bit different, and I like it, too.”

  The bell over the door rang in cheery greeting, and Amanda’s friend Lisa walked in, the hood of her dark raincoat still up in defense against the Oregon weather. Sliding it back, she strode toward the table.

  “You know, it didn’t rain a drop until I headed out my door this morning. Typical. Did I tell you I’ve started walking to and from the newspaper office every day?” She grinned at the two women. “I dropped four pounds already, even after eating Meg’s fab cinnamon rolls.”

  Normally the cheerful one in the group, Meg narrowed her eyes in frustration. “Don’t you go blaming my cinnamon rolls for anything that’s happened to you. It’s not my fault they’re your favorite thing on the menu. You have to admit that it took a bit for you to get over…” she paused in mid-sentence, but Lisa put her hands on her hips and faced her head on.

  “Get over my ex-boyfriend being put in jail for murder? Is that what you were going to say?”

  The two women glared at each other for a split second, then Meg’s face crumbled into near embarrassment. “Hey, it’s not your fault you fell for Devon and he turned out to be a murderer,” she said, her voice low. “I know things have been rough for you since all that happened, and if I’d been in your shoes I would’ve just given up and eaten my weight in chocolate pie. I’m really sorry if I was rude.”

  Lisa’s hands slid off her hips and she gave a great sigh. “It’s okay, Meggie,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been kind of distant lately. I’ve just been embarrassed by everything that’s happened, that’s all. It feels weird.” She slid into a seat next to Amanda, who was watching in sympathetic silence. “After being really careful about my reputation in Ravenwood Cove for years, I didn’t expect to be the topic of so much gossip.” She looked at Meg. “You seemed upset when I came in. What’s bugging you today?” she asked, and Meg’s expression hardened again.

  “Margarine and rumors,” she said with an exasperated sigh, and stomped back to the kitchen.

  Lisa’s eyes followed her, then she turned back to Amanda. “What’s that all about?”

  “The new tea shop. I guess she’s not getting
along with Ruben Bishop, the new owner.”

  Lisa gave a low whistle of understanding, then cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’ve heard he’s kind of a difficult guy. I guess I shouldn’t tell her that I’m doing an interview with him in about half an hour, and it’s going to be a feature in tomorrow’s edition of the Ravenwood Tide, should I?”

  Amanda looked back at the now-closed door to Cuppa’s kitchen. “Not unless you want her to throw something at you,” she said, then added, “Something really heavy.”

  “I guess I won’t be getting my coffee here today,” Lisa said with a heavy sigh. “I was really looking forward to extra caramel in my latte, too. No one makes as good of coffee as Meg.” She looked at Amanda, her glum expression brightening. “How about you come with me?”

  “To the tea shop?”

  Lisa’s smile was broad. “Sure! Why not? You’d get to see what’s new in town and check out the guy Meg’s talking about. If I can’t get my latte, at least I can share a nice pot of oolong with you.”

  Amanda thought about it for a moment. Jennifer was running the Inn with her expert hand that morning, and it gave Amanda a bit of leeway on when she had to finish her errands and return to the bed and breakfast. Still, the idea of going to the tea shop made her a bit uneasy. It almost felt like she was going over to the enemy, just by setting foot inside the new shop, but she had to admit that she’d been dying to check it out. It was a block off the main street, on the corner of Pelican and Dory, and she’d driven past several times in the past couple weeks, excited to see the changes taking place to the previously-rundown building. The new owner had repaired peeling siding and replaced cracked windows, then painted the whole exterior a soft white with mint-green trim. Lace café curtains now hung in the spotless front windows, and the new sign for the business had been hung up only three days earlier.

  From the sounds coming from behind the still-shut door of Cuppa’s kitchen, she could tell Meg was taking out her frustrations by smacking around a big bowl of dough. She could also hear muttered arguments being directed at the innocent pastry, and it definitely didn’t sound like Meg was going to come out and chat with them again anytime soon.

  “I’d love to go,” Amanda said, grabbing her purse as she stood up. They may have hurried out a bit faster than usual, but Amanda tried to convince herself that it was because they didn’t want to hurt Meg’s feelings. Sometimes going to meet the enemy and assess the situation could be the best way to figure out how to help a friend.

  Chapter 2

  Amanda turned off the ignition outside the tea shop and tucked her keys in her purse. She could see Sage working across the street and gave him a friendly wave, getting a wide grin and enthusiastic wave in response. Lisa’s teenage nephew had had a rough start in life, but ever since he had come to live with Lisa in Ravenwood Cove, she’d done her best to tame his wild ways. It had been a blessing to see him start to find his way once he settled into town. A senior in high school, once he’d discovered his love for old cars he seemed unstoppable. He worked a part-time job at Truman’s bike and book store to earn enough to keep his old Impala running, and did whatever odd jobs he could, too. After a few months, he and two of his high school buddies negotiated a deal with Mr. Bower to fix up his long-closed auto shop for the ability to use it for fixing their cars. The elderly man, tight on funds, had jumped on the chance. Soon, people in town figured out that the unlikely trio of teens had a knack for doing basic repairs to cars and they started wanting help with their own autos, and Bad Boy Motors had been born. Right across the street from the new tea shop, its blue-collar appearance seemed to fit into the neighborhood more than the fancy, British-style tearoom ever would.

  Lisa and Amanda could see a young woman flipping over the OPEN sign in the tea shop window as they got out of Amanda’s car. Next to it was a hand-drawn sign, proclaiming the tea room as being ‘peanut-free’. By the time they’d pushed open the front door the lady was nowhere in sight, but they could hear a muffled argument coming from a set of curtains, probably leading to the back room.

  As they heard a man and a woman quietly bickering, Lisa caught Amanda’s eye, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Do we stay or do we go?” she mouthed, but just then the quarreling stopped and a balding middle-aged man with a carefully-groomed mustache popped his head through the hanging fabric.

  “Ladies! Ladies. Please have a seat, and thank you for coming. I’ll be right out to take your order,” he said with a plastered-on smile. Without another word, he retreated, and Amanda and Lisa could hear a bit of frantic shushing as they chose a corner table, right by the front window.

  Even with the overheard argument, Amanda had to admit that Honeybee Tea had an old-fashioned charm all its own, as if it were another world. There was a large brick fireplace on their side of the room, topped with a collection of old teapots lined up on the mantle. The wide, dark wood flooring looked original to the building, and small tables with white tablecloths and lace overlays were scattered around the room. Fabric-wrapped pots on each table held miniature rose plants, forced into an early bloom. The shop’s front counter was small, and flanked by two rolling tea carts, complete with tiered display stands to show off the available goodies. Two old-fashioned sofas were near the fireplace, a low table in front of them, ready for anyone who might want a comfy place to talk and take tea. A large crystal chandelier over the front counter splashed bright spots of light on the rose-covered wallpaper. A large antique china cabinet against the opposite wall showcased delicate cups and saucers, many hand-painted with flowers from a bygone age.

  “Lovely,” Amanda commented as she shook her napkin out and set it in her lap. Within moments, the man they’d seen earlier bustled out of the back room with a broad smile, a silver platter of delicate cakes in one hand and a spotless linen towel thrown over his other arm.

  “Good morning, ladies. Thank you again for coming into our new tea shop. Can I get you started with one of our delicious teas? How about a lovely lemongrass tropical tea, or would you prefer cinnamon chocolate? It’s quite unusual, you know,” he said as he set the silver platter on the table. “My name is Ruben and I’m the owner here. As my way of saying thank you for trying out the Honeybee Tea room, I’d love for you to try an assortment of our custom cakes, on the house.”

  Lisa smiled and stuck out her hand. "Mr. Bishop, my name's Lisa Wilkins. We talked on the phone yesterday about me doing an interview with you for the Ravenwood tide newspaper, and I was hoping we could arrange a time to do that." She looked around the empty restaurant. "Would now be a good time for that? I completely understand if you want me to come back later."

  She gestured at Amanda. "This is my friend Amanda Graham… I mean, Amanda Landon." She giggled. "Sorry about that. She's a newlywed and I'm still figuring out her new last name. I brought her here today because I thought both of you should meet. Amanda’s very involved with the merchants in the area and trying to improve business and maximize tourist dollars, and she's the owner of the Ravenwood Inn, so I thought the two of you might have a lot of things in common."

  Ruben turned toward Amanda and shook her hand as well, finally bending over to kiss it. "What a great pleasure to meet you both," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Unfortunately, I can't do that interview right now because we’re getting ready for customers coming. I put out a flyer in several of the local businesses to let them know we’re open and I want everything to go off without a hitch. We’re doing a free tasting cart today to try to build our business. If people show up, that is."

  Lisa smiled in understanding. "It sounds like you've made an impact already. The people I've talked to who have been here say the food’s marvelous and that the tea is to die for. I'm suspicious you've got a hit on your hands here, Mr. Bishop,” she said, and Ruben grinned.

  "I hope so."

  Just then a haggard-looking young woman with dark red hair emerged from the back room. She set two teapots on a nearby cart and wheeled it over to them. Smiling timi
dly, she was just about to pick up the first pot to pour a cup of tea when Ruben turned on her.

  “Not now, Columbia! Can’t you see we’re talking here?” He glared at her, obviously furious. She straightened up, her eyes on the two women sitting in front of her.

  “I’m very sorry if I interrupted anything,” she said, then stalked back to the counter, completely ignoring Ruben.

  He looked out the front window, across the street towards Sage's new garage. Several teen boys were milling around the open garage door and discussing an older model Camaro that was up on jacks. "Anything I can do to improve this neighborhood would be a godsend. The least I can do is contribute as much culture and finesse as I possibly can, even if I have to deal with the street rats across the way." He looked at the two ladies sitting at the table, both of whom were aghast at his lack of compassion. "You wouldn’t believe how much noise those hooligans make over there. They use grinders and loud equipment all day. If I have anything to say about it, they won't be in business long, because they're going to drive all my customers away and I need to do something about that."

  Even before Lisa said a word, Amanda had a good idea what she was thinking. She knew how much her serious friend loved her nephew, Sage, so she wasn't surprised by her strong reaction to Ruben’s words.

  "Mr. Bishop, you may not be aware of it, but those street rats you're referring to include my nephew, Sage. He’s the one in the gray coveralls. He and his friends just needed a place to get together and work on cars. It gives them something to do and keeps them out of trouble. They're not here to hurt you or any of your customers. Now, if you're having a problem with the noise that they're making I can have a word with them, but since you're both in this neighborhood and I don't see that either one of you are going to move, I think you’d both better learn how to get along with each other."