Death by Vanilla Latte

by Alex Erickson

  “Rita,” I said, forcing her to look at me. “Dad and I haven’t seen each other for a few months now. We’d like to have a few minutes to catch up, if that’s okay?”

  “That’s fine, dear,” she said, actually shooing me away. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up, I’m sure.”

  Behind her, the door opened and Cameron came in, three boxes in his arms this time. Rick trailed behind, carrying only his coffee mug. The least he could have done was to offer to carry the last two boxes, but apparently physical labor was beneath him.

  “I have an idea!” Rita said, clapping her hands together and startling me. “We hold a writers’ group meeting every Tuesday night. You should come and talk to our members!”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Dad said, for the first time sounding uncertain.

  “Nonsense!” Rita patted him on the hand. “It will be a special meeting, one held in your honor. I’ll let everyone know you’re going to be there and they can prepare for it. I bet we’ll have at least three times as many people show up, all because of you! It’s going to be fantastic!”

  And before my dad could protest, Rita spun away. Her cell phone was in her hand even before she reached the door. As she stepped out on the sidewalk, I could hear her say, “Georgina! You won’t believe who I just ran into!” And then the door closed, and she was gone.

  “What just happened?” Dad asked, a bemused expression on his face.

  “You don’t have to go,” I said. “Rita gets overexcited at times and forgets that people sometimes like to make up their own minds about what they do.”

  “She seems nice enough.”

  “She is,” I said. “But if you let her, she’ll have you paraded all over town. You won’t have a moment’s peace.”

  Dad patted me on the arm. “I’m in town, so I might as well go. I’d like to get to know the people here and the writers’ group seems like the perfect place to start.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  A crash and a pained yowl caused us to turn. Cameron lay sprawled on the floor, the boxes of books spilled before him. The store cat, Trouble, sat a few feet away, licking his back foot and glaring at the poor assistant like he’d stepped on him on purpose.

  “Be more careful with those!” Rick shouted. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’d better go help out,” Dad said with a sigh.

  “Yeah.”

  He kissed me on the forehead. “It’s good to see you, Buttercup.”

  “You too, Dad.”

  And then he was running up the stairs in a vain attempt to calm his raging agent and to help the battered assistant get to his feet. Vicki was there to comfort her poor black-and-white kitty.

  My mind raced wildly as I watched from my place by the door. Between the sudden appearance of my dad and Rita’s obsession, who would comfort me?

  2

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

  Will chuckled on the other end of the line.

  “It’s not funny! My dad is here and I’m terrified Rita is going to drag him off somewhere and force him to marry her. She was practically drooling all over herself when she saw him. It was a wonder she didn’t make any more of a scene than she did.”

  More laughter, followed by, “You really shouldn’t worry so much about it, Krissy. Nothing horrible is going to happen. Enjoy the visit. Spend time with your dad. Even if Rita makes a pass at him, I’m sure it will all work out just fine.”

  I groaned as I turned onto the main drag. I was on my way to the writers’ meeting and was hating every second of it. I didn’t know what to expect when I got there, but I was sure I wouldn’t like it. Rita was probably busy setting up that cardboard cutout of Dad she kept in her bedroom even now.

  Just thinking about it was giving me heartburn. “My day started out so nicely.”

  “It’ll be fine.” I could hear the amused smile in Will’s voice and wanted to smack him for it. He had no idea how obsessive Rita could be. “It’s natural to be nervous. His arrival was a surprise and you weren’t prepared for it. You should make the best of it and be happy he’s here. There’s a lot of people who don’t get to see their parents much.”

  “I know, but . . .” But what? I was actually pretty happy to see my dad, even if his appearance did come as a shock. It wasn’t like when my ex-boyfriend, Robert, had shown up, wanting to get back together even though he’d arrived with another girl on his arm. Now that was the kind of surprise I’d like to avoid.

  I sighed. “You’re right,” I said. “I’m being silly.”

  “You are. And I find it rather cute.”

  “Shut up.” I grinned as I spun the wheel and turned into the church parking lot. “I’ve got to go. . . .” My eyes widened, and I came to an abrupt stop. “Holy crap.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I cleared my throat, which had gone dry. “I’ll call you later.” I hung up before Will could reply.

  Normally, there were six, maybe seven cars at the most, in the church parking lot on group night. And lately, we’d been lucky to have four since Lena had been working a lot and Adam hadn’t been coming like he used to.

  But not tonight. There had to be at least a dozen, if not upward of twenty cars in the lot.

  My stomach did a slow flip as I started forward again and coasted down the rows until I found an empty space. I parked and shut off the engine, heart pounding like I was the one who was about to get bombarded by a horde of slavering wannabe authors.

  “Dad, what did you get yourself into?”

  I got out of my car and headed for the door, all the while trying to come up with some way to talk Rita out of making such a big deal about my dad’s visit. I knew she was excited, but I had a feeling she was going to take it too far. Why couldn’t she have a normal meeting where Dad could speak about writing, answer some questions, and then maybe sign a book or two? I was almost positive I was going to walk in on something that would end with someone getting hurt.

  The sound of excited chatter echoed down the hall as I entered the church. The old painted steps creaked as I strode up them. I reached the top of the stairs and peeked into the meeting room to find it nearly packed with people. I recognized Andi, Georgina, and Adam right away. They were hovering near where the chairs they normally sat in would have been on a normal night. Now, there were rows of metal folding chairs, and the group members didn’t seem to know where to stand. I didn’t see Lena or Chief Patricia Dalton anywhere—the two other regular members of our group.

  “Krissy!” Rita saw me as soon as I stepped into the room. She rushed over and grabbed me by the arm as if she thought I might turn and flee. I had to admit, it would probably be a wise decision, because I wanted to be as far away from here as I could get. I wasn’t a fan of big crowds.

  “Do you know when James will arrive?” Rita asked, dragging me into the room. “Everyone is so excited. Many of us have brought our best manuscripts with us in the hopes he’ll read them and pass them on to his publisher.” She abruptly stopped, spun, and hugged me. “This is so exciting!” And then, before I could gasp out that she was squeezing too hard, she released me and hurried off without waiting for me to reply.

  Composing myself, I glanced around the room in search of more familiar faces. The local librarians, Cindy and Jimmy Carlton, were standing in a corner, Jimmy clutching a thin stack of papers close to his chest like he thought someone might try to steal it from him. Next to them stood a few members of the Cherry Valley book club. Albert Elmore glanced my way and said something to Sara Huffington, who tugged on her pearls while she scowled at me. The elderly Vivian Flowers patted her on the shoulder as if consoling her, and then winked at me.

  I was actually surprised to see them here. As far as I knew, Albert didn’t get along with Rita. Actually, I’m not sure anyone from Cherry Valley got along with her. Anytime I’d ever seen them together, there was usually an argument of some sort, but I guess a chance to mee
t James Hancock trumped petty squabbling. Then again, Albert had talked poorly about one of my dad’s books. Maybe he was here to tell him how he would have done it better.

  “Hi, are you Kristina Hancock?”

  I turned to find a middle-aged man in a fleece sweater standing behind me, holding his own sheaf of papers. He was wearing a hat that looked suspiciously like the battered fedora one of my dad’s most popular characters wore, right down to the black smudge on the brim.

  “I am,” I said. “But you can call me Krissy.”

  His face lit up, and he freed a sweaty hand to grip mine vigorously. “I’m one of your father’s biggest fans.” He blinked at me rapidly, like he was trying to keep from crying. “I’m Joel, by the way. Joel Osborne.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Joel,” I said, extracting my hand from his own and wiping it on my jeans. “Nice turnout, huh?”

  “I’m not surprised,” Joel said, eyes scanning the room. “When Rita called me, she told me she was going to let everyone know about tonight’s festivities. I’m surprised more aren’t here already.”

  “Are you from here in town?” I asked, not having seen him before. Since the Cherry Valley people were here, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he’d come from somewhere else close by.

  “I’m from Pine Hills, born and raised.” Joel snorted a laugh. “I don’t really get out that much, but this was too big of an opportunity to pass up.” He touched the brim of his hat, almost reverently.

  I glanced around the room then, wondering how many more people were from here in town. There were quite a lot of faces I didn’t recognize, including a thin woman who had joined the Cherry Valley group. With the way she talked to Albert, I wondered if he’d started dating again. From what I understood, his wife had left him a while ago.

  “Do you know when he’ll be here?” Joel asked, bringing my attention back to him. “I’m anxious to know what he’ll think about my novel.” He held the sheaf of papers out toward me, though he clutched at them carefully, as not to let one flutter away.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “And I’m not sure he’ll be able to look at your novel.”

  Joel’s face fell. “Rita told everyone to print out a copy of their books and bring them with us. She assured me there would be time to show him our work tonight.”

  I winced. This wouldn’t be the first time someone asked Dad to look at their novel. And like every time before it, he would have to tell them no. He had to be careful about these things because not everyone was on the up-and-up. He’d told me once about a writer friend who’d looked at some woman’s novel and then was promptly sued by her when a book he’d recently written contained a character with the same last name as the one in her own unpublished book. The case was thrown out, but it did serve as a warning, one my dad took to heart.

  “He’ll probably listen if you were to read it, but I don’t think he’s going to do whatever it was Rita promised.”

  Joel’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded. “I guess I understand. He’s a busy man.” He gave me a sad smile and then wandered over to a chair beside a box that appeared to hold a few more fedoras, all with the same black mark on the brim.

  I felt bad, but I wasn’t going to let him get his hopes up too much. Rita should have asked before she went and told everyone Dad would read their novels. There would be a lot of very unhappy people by the end of the night, I was sure.

  “Krissy, dear,” Rita said, hurrying over with a couple in tow. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Barrett Drummand.” A man who had to be my dad’s age, but with a fuller head of hair, spoke, voice raspy as if he’d spent a lifetime smoking. He didn’t offer to shake hands or even do more than speak his name. In fact, he didn’t look all that happy to be here.

  “Barrett and his wife, Theresa, are thrilled about meeting James,” Rita said. “Barrett is a very good storyteller and I’m sure he’ll be a star someday.”

  The woman, Theresa, stood behind her husband, head slightly bowed. She looked to be about ten years his junior, though she was dressed as if she were older. She had on a plain brown dress that went all the way down to her ankles and hid every last curve of her body. She wouldn’t meet my eye, no matter how hard I tried to catch her gaze.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, though I had no idea why Rita wanted us to meet.

  Barrett only nodded as if he thought he was doing me a favor by standing in my presence. His wife barely even glanced up at me before staring down at the back of her husband’s legs again.

  “I do hope James arrives soon.” Rita fussed with her hair. “Everyone is getting restless. I was hoping he would be here already so I could prepare him for tonight’s activities, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he hasn’t arrived yet. He is a very important and busy man.”

  I kept from rolling my eyes and chose to glance at the clock, instead. It was still a good ten minutes before our normal start time, but I refrained from pointing that out to Rita.

  “There’s Amy Goldstein,” she said. “I wonder why her husband isn’t with her tonight?”

  I caught a glimpse of a woman who looked a little uncomfortable about being there, before my attention was drawn to a nearby shout.

  “The Blind Canary is a far superior Drake story than The Tarred Peacock!”

  “You’re out of your mind!” A fat man was practically standing on Joel as he shouted at him. “The Blind Canary has got to be the weakest of the bunch! The solution took no effort, whereas Drake has to use every ounce of his detective skills to solve the case in The Tarred Peacock. That clearly makes it a better novel.”

  Joel was clutching at what I was starting to think of as his “Bobby Drake” hat, his face turning red.

  “Now, now, Harland,” Rita said, rushing over, as I followed in her wake. “No need to fight.”

  “He’s wrong!” the fat man—Harland, I assumed—said. “Just because he made those stupid hats, doesn’t make him an expert.”

  “They’re not stupid!” Joel looked like he wanted to knock Harland upside the head with one of the hats, but refrained from doing anything more than raise his voice.

  The floorboard outside the room creaked, causing every head to turn. James Hancock, followed by both Rick Wiseman and his assistant, Cameron Little, entered the room. A sudden hush fell over the crowd, but it was quickly replaced by excited applause. Even the two squabblers had stopped fighting and were smiling ear to ear.

  Dad looked taken aback at first, and then a wide grin spread across his face as he soaked in the applause. He raised both of his hands, looking for all the world like a politician pretending to try to calm his supporters, while really wanting them to cheer louder. Behind him, Rick scowled and took a sip from his travel mug, which likely held another batch of his precious vanilla latte.

  “Everyone! Everyone!” Rita blew an ear-piercing whistle. “Make room and welcome our guest of honor, James Hancock!”

  More clapping and a few hoots and hollers followed the pronouncement. Rita fanned herself off as if just saying his name was enough to make her overheat.

  “Thank you,” Dad said, stepping to the front of the room. When he spoke, everyone fell silent. “I’m thrilled so many of you have come to see me tonight. It’s my honor to be here and I hope to see every one of you this Saturday when I hold a book signing in my daughter’s coffee shop, Death by Coffee.” He held a hand out toward me.

  All eyes swiveled my way, and I instantly flushed beet red. Thankfully, attention lingered on me for only a few seconds before nearly everyone turned back to my dad. Only Rick continued to stare, a thin smile crossing his lips. He leaned over, whispered something to Cameron, and then handed him his travel mug. Cameron hurried out of the room, presumably to refill it.

  “Now,” Rita said, “if everyone would take a seat, we can get started.” She motioned for my dad to take the chair in the front of the room, which sat right beside her own recliner, leaving the rest of us to sit in the u
ncomfortable metal folding chairs.

  I took a seat in the back, hoping not to draw any more attention my way than I already had. I didn’t much care for the spotlight, though my dad enjoyed it. I also had a hard time understanding why everyone was so fascinated with him. I mean, to me, he was Dad. But I guess to everyone else he was a celebrity, as much as a writer can be.

  Rick took a chair from the row and dragged it over to the wall, where he wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone. Cameron returned just as he settled in, handed him his coffee mug, and then found his own seat at the end of the aisle. I noticed he stared at his boss for a few moments after he sat. I wondered if he was tired of getting bossed around. I know I would have a hard time with it, but that’s because I preferred to be my own boss. I don’t think I could go back to working where someone else was constantly telling me what to do.

  Once everyone was quiet, Rita took control. “I’m sure everyone has a thousand questions for James,” she said, patting Dad on the hand as she spoke. “But I thought it might be best if we start with me reading from my novel. Afterward, I do hope you will be interested in reading the rest.” She batted her eyelashes at Dad.

  “I’m flattered.”

  Before he could say more, Harland spoke up. “I have a novel for you to read as well.”

  “As do I!” This from Albert.

  And then came the tidal wave of shouts and pleas for Dad to read their every word.

  Dad raised both his hands and shook his head as he waited for the crowd to quiet down. “If I could read each and every novel here, I would,” he said. “But I cannot.” There was a collective groan. For a few moments, Dad looked upset about having to let everyone down, then a mischievous smile crossed his features. “But my agent, Rick Wiseman, is here tonight. I’m sure that after we are done with the meeting tonight, he would be happy to read your novels.”

  Rick just about spilled his drink as he sputtered out a vain protest. He was drowned out by clapping and more shouts and cheers. I swear I saw Cameron grinning deviously from his seat, though he covered his mouth to hide it from Rick, who was not happy.