Daley Buzz Cozy Mystery Boxed Set
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“Just answer her question,” David said.
“Yes. I play a little. Although I still don’t see why that matters,” Rick said.
“Your wife was killed by a baseball bat,” I replied.
“I know.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“I saw a news report. There was video of a member of the forensics team loading the bat into a van,” Rick said.
“And what do you have to say for yourself?” David asked.
“For the last time, I didn’t do this,” Rick said.
“So you say,” I replied.
Rick’s voice was filled with outrage. “They sell baseball bats at every sporting goods store in the country. Anyone could have bought a bat and killed her with it.”
I stared deep into his eyes. “True, but you were the only one who had a million reasons to want her dead. And you are the one who is being very defensive all of a sudden.”
Rick waggled his pointer finger at me. “You have this all wrong.”
“Set us straight, then,” I said.
“If I killed her, do you really think I would have been stupid enough to leave the murder weapon there at the scene?” Rick asked.
“Crazy things happen in the heat of the moment—especially when a murder has just been committed,” David replied.
“Nice try, but I would never be that stupid. I’ll bet the real killer left it there to frame me,” Rick said.
“Oh really?” David asked.
Rick nodded. “It makes sense. Everyone knows I like baseball. So who better to frame than the man who is in the middle of divorcing the victim?”
“Or maybe you weren’t framed at all. Perhaps you were just careless,” David said.
Rick stared into David’s eyes then leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t find any fingerprints on the bat, did you?”
“What makes you say that?” David asked.
“Because if you did, you would have already arrested me. The fact that you’re asking me questions instead of handcuffing me tells me that you have nothing. And since you clearly don’t have enough to charge me with a crime, I’m done talking to you,” Rick said.
“This isn’t over,” David replied.
Rick puffed his chest out. “Are you going to charge me with murder?”
David took a deep breath.
“That’s what I thought,” Rick said. “We’re done here.”
As I looked over at David, his blood was boiling. At the same time, there wasn’t much he could do. There wasn’t nearly enough evidence to detain Rick. So as much as it pained David to do so, he ended the interview.
While David and I walked back to his car in the parking lot, we suddenly had a shortage of suspects left to question. And with no hit on the all-points bulletin that David had put out, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do but wait for an update.
David decided to check in at the police station to see if the crime lab had gotten any results. I, meanwhile, headed over to Daley Buzz.
Chapter Seventeen
It was amazing what a difference a few months made. I used to get a sparkle in my eyes when I passed by Stewart’s chocolate shop. That was no longer the case. There was one simple reason for that. The storefront beside my family’s coffee shop was no longer home to Stewart’s chocolates, but rather Zabrinski’s. What a shame, too, because the truffles at Zabrinski’s just didn’t measure up to the standard that Stewart’s had set.
Ultimately, the point was moot. Stewart’s no longer existed. After Andrew Stewart’s murder earlier in the year, the rest of his family sold the company to local real estate developer Jake Williamson.
As Stewart’s already had a very successful business model, a number of the locals wondered if Jake would just assume ownership of the business and make no changes to the daily operation of the shop. Instead, Jake shut Stewart’s down completely and recruited a national chocolate shop chain to come out and lease the storefront from him.
Not that I had expected Jake to do any different. Each time I had spoken to him, he had been clear about his intentions—to buy up every mom-and-pop shop on Main Street and flood all of downtown Treasure Cove with chain stores. Bringing Zabrinski’s in was just the latest step in turning his vision into a reality.
To me, that was a shame, not just for my taste buds, but also for my wallet. The problem with Zabrinski’s was that they prioritized profits over taste.
When they first opened a month ago, I had given them a fair shake. I had gone in with an open mind and an empty stomach. Unfortunately, the truffles just didn’t measure up to the ones I used to get at Stewart’s.
Don’t get me wrong. The truffles that Zabrinski’s served were all right—they just weren’t great. It was then that I realized how wide the gap truly was between Stewart’s truffles and everyone else’s.
It didn’t take me long to realize where Zabrinski’s had gone wrong. I used to believe that even mediocre chocolate was better than no chocolate at all. That was before I realized that in the mass-production world where chains operated, the recipes they used were designed for maximum profit, not maximum taste.
As an added punch to the gut, each truffle at Zabrinski’s was fifty cents more expensive than they had been at Stewart’s. Judging by the sleek, modern design of the store, I believed that Zabrinski’s should have spent less time focusing on the décor of the shop and more time figuring out how to make good chocolates.
Now, instead of being filled with excitement every time I passed by their storefront, a sense of disappointment came over me. That was paired with the inherent sadness of knowing that in addition to Andrew Stewart’s life being cut short, his business legacy now only existed in the memories of his old customers.
That afternoon, anger entered the mix as well when I saw Jake Williamson standing in front of Zabrinski’s with a smug look on his face.
Ugh.
If only there were a way to sneak by the arrogant, slick-haired real estate developer without him noticing me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of one. When the forty-nine-year-old spotted me, I knew that confrontation was inevitable. Given the contentious nature of our last conversation a few months back, I braced myself for the worst.
“Sabrina Daley,” he said. “Have you accused any innocent people of murder lately?”
That didn’t take long. So much for small talk. Who needed it anyway when he could just take a shot at me?
Not that I had expected him to be on friendly terms with me. At one point during the investigation of Andrew Stewart’s murder, Jake had been high on the list of suspects. There was good reason for that. Jake had been desperate to buy Andrew’s chocolate shop, but Andrew had no intention of selling.
So when Andrew was killed, it was only natural that Jake became a suspect. In addition, Jake didn’t have anyone who could verify his alibi at the time of the murder. Not surprisingly, Jake and I had gotten into a heated exchange when I questioned him. Even though the Stewart murder case had wrapped up months ago, Jake’s animosity toward me had clearly not subsided.
“Very funny,” I replied.
“I wasn’t joking,” he said.
As big of a fan of dessert as I was, I had never been fond of humble pie. Even worse, Jake didn’t just want me to choke down a piece—he wanted to rub my face in it.
I folded my arms. “I don’t think that’s very fair—”
Fire came to his eyes. “Fair? You accused me of murder. How fair was that?”
I waggled my pointer finger back and forth. “I didn’t accuse you of murder. I suspected you—”
He scoffed. “Like there’s a big difference. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
I opened my mouth to reply.
He cut me off before I could even get a word in. “By the way, I’m still waiting for an apology.”
I stared him down. “Whether you want to admit it or not, I had every reason to suspect you.”
“That doesn’t sound like an apology.”
“Really?” he replied. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
I took a few steps toward the entrance of my family’s coffee shop. “I have work to get to. I need to go.”
His voice raised a few octaves. “Being backed into a corner isn’t very pleasant, is it?”
I turned back around. “No. It isn’t. You happy now?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I threw my hands up. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more that I can do for you.”
“Actually, there is.”
My eyebrows arched. “This should be good.”
“Sell me your coffee shop.”
I scoffed. “I don’t know what crazy world you live in, but I’m not selling my family’s coffee shop to you just because you think I owe you.”
“You don’t even know how much I’m offering.”
“My family has owned this shop for decades.”
“Maybe it’s time that your family takes some early retirement.”
“My grandmother’s told you this, my mother’s told you this, and I’ve told you this—Daley Buzz is not for sale.”
“Everything has a price.”
“Just keep telling yourself that.”
I turned back toward the coffee shop.
“It’s your loss,” Jake said.
“That’s not the way I see it,” I replied.
Jake puffed his chest out. “I’m not giving up.”
“You should quit while you’re behind.”
“I didn’t become wildly successful by quitting,” Jake said. “This isn’t over.”
At least that was what he thought. The conversation was sure finished. I kept walking and entered the coffee shop, leaving Jake in my dust.
Chapter Eighteen
With all that was going on, it was hard to keep my mind on work. Thankfully, the lunch rush was over, so I didn’t need to worry about messing up customers’ orders. While the midafternoon lull in foot traffic gave me an opportunity to catch my breath, the lack of customers also provided a fertile playground for my mind to wander. I became completely lost in thought until my mother pulled me out of my fog.
“What are you thinking about?” Elizabeth asked.
She had no idea how jumbled my thoughts were. If she did, she would have completely freaked out. My mother was already a notorious worrier. The last thing I wanted was to make her even more unnerved.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
She stared long and hard at me. “It sure looks a lot like something. You’re thinking about the case, aren’t you?”
So much for keeping her in the dark. I knew that I had to give her something, or she would just start drawing her own wild conclusions.
“Actually, I was thinking about Jake Williamson,” I replied.
Her face contorted. “Why? Is he a murder suspect in this case, too?” She narrowed her eyes. “I knew that sleaze ball was good for nothing, but to stoop to murder—”
“Mom, relax. He’s not a suspect in this case.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Then why were you thinking about him?”
“He tried to pressure me into selling the coffee shop.”
Elizabeth folded her arms. “When is that creep going to learn that Daley Buzz is not for sale?”
“Apparently, not today. He seems to believe that everything has a price.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s shameless. It’s like he doesn’t know the meaning of the word no.”
“I’m not sure that he does. I get the feeling that people don’t turn him down very often.”
“We should send your grandmother out there. By the time she’s done with him, he’ll never hassle us again.”
I cracked a smile. “I can imagine how that conversation would go.”
Elizabeth did an imitation of my feisty grandmother. “I didn’t open this coffee shop forty-eight years ago so that some greasy-haired shark in a suit could turn it into some soulless corporate chain.”
I clapped. “Good job, Mom. That was spot on.”
“I can’t take credit. Your grandmother has a very unique way about her.”
“She sure does. That’s why I’d pay to see her tee off on Jake.”
Elizabeth looked at the shop. “Could you imagine what Jake would do to this place?”
“There would be no more poetry nights.”
“Or acoustic Tuesdays.”
“The prices would go up.”
“The quality would go down.”
I nodded. “He would gut this place of all its character.”
Elizabeth got choked up. “It makes me sad even thinking about it.”
“Don’t worry. I fully intend for Daley Buzz to be around fifty years from now,” I said.
She smiled at me.
“I just wonder if we’re going to be the only mom-and-pop shop left on Main Street by then,” I added.
“We probably will, but some things are worth fighting for.”
I looked out at Main Street. “It’s amazing how quickly things are changing in this town.”
“True. But just remember that as much as things may change, some things always stay the same—like love and family.”
“I know,” I replied. “Right now I’m just worried about the things that are changing and how to stop them.”
She stared deep into my eyes. “You’re not talking about Jake anymore, are you?”
I shook my head. “No.” I took a deep breath. “That being said, I have some serious work to do.”
My mother looked like she wanted to say something to me, but she kept her mouth closed and wrapped her arm over my shoulders.
Chapter Nineteen
I hated being patient, especially when I was waiting for something as important as news regarding the all-points bulletin that was out on Erin Baxter. At first, I thought that coming to the coffee shop would provide me with a suitable distraction. That was far from the case. The conversation with my mother had provided ample evidence of that.
It also didn’t help that the coffee shop acted like a hub of gossip. The local news must have run a story about the murder, because in short time, it was the only thing the customers were talking about. In a relatively small town like Treasure Cove, even the smallest tidbit of news had the tendency to gain more traction than it deserved. So the rare times that something as horrible as a murder occurred, the town was absolutely turned on its head.
When my friend Kelly arrived for her work shift a few minutes later, it didn’t take a genius to guess what would be the first words out of her mouth. The troubled look on her face only sealed the deal in my mind. She knew about the murder—there was no doubt about that.
After we’d had a brief discussion about how tragic Terri Baxter’s murder was, Kelly’s eyes filled with more concern than ever.
“Are things ever going to go back to normal?” she asked.
That was a much deeper question than I could ever hope to answer in the middle of slinging coffees. It was the kind of thing that could be discussed for hours at a time over a pint of chocolate ice cream.
Since Kelly had decided to ask the question right then and there, I tried to encapsulate my thoughts as much as I could.
“I thought they had.” I took a deep breath. “Then this happened.”
Kelly groaned.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I deadpanned.
She gave me a weak smile. “I don’t know. I’m at a loss here. What can you even say at a time like this?”
“Just that it’s a crazy world.”
Kelly stared out the window. “And it just keeps getting crazier.”
“I can’t argue with that.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “What I can say is that David is working hard on cracking this case.”
The discouraged look remained on her face. “
Don’t get me wrong. That’s great and all, but with the way this town is going, it just seems like there will be a brand-new case in a few weeks, or a few months.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Don’t talk like that.”
Kelly looked into my eyes and saw how much her statement had shaken me up. “I’m sorry. This one really took me by surprise. I mean, who would want to kill Miss Terri?”
“More people than you’d think.”
“I also figured that if anyone could predict their own death and avoid it, it would be her.”
“There’s a lot of that sentiment going around.”
“Because it doesn’t make sense. She really had a gift.”
“You still believe that?”
“You went to see her. Don’t you believe it?” Kelly asked.
I became pensive. “I go back and forth. Although I will say this. There were some strange inconsistencies to her readings.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you went to her, she talked about moon cycles and all kinds of mystical matters. When I saw her, she made a very direct statement to me.”
“We’re very different people, so why would you expect us to get the same kind of psychic reading?” Kelly asked.
“I guess you’re right.”
Kelly looked down at the ground. “Either way, she’s gone now.” She took a deep breath.
“David will get to the bottom of this. Her murder will be solved,” I said.
“It’s not just that,” Kelly replied. “There’s some other stuff that I’m working through right now, too.”
My forehead wrinkled. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer.
“Kelly. You know you can tell me anything.”
She took another moment to herself before opening her mouth. “You know how everyone has been saying such good things about that hypnotherapist, Gregory Morton?”
I nodded.
“I went to see him,” Kelly replied.
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Kelly averted her eyes. “Don’t judge me.”
I mustered the most apologetic tone that I could. “I’m not. I’m just curious about why you went to a hypnotherapist.”