A Killer Latte Read online

  “What do I owe you?” she asked.

  “Just a photo.” I picked up my phone and pushed the camera icon. “Say ‘latte.’”

  “Latte!” Daisy squealed with a big smile on her face, with the latte in one hand and the CD in the other.

  There was no greater feeling I got than seeing someone enjoy my coffees. The specialty food items were just a bonus. It was a far cry from my last job as a lawyer. I still had my law license and practiced here and there. Usually, people needed things looked over or notarized, but being a lawyer took away a part of my soul that the Bean Hive had given back to me. But that was another conversation for a different time.

  “You’re a doll.” She walked toward the door. “Sugar, remember, not a peep until the production crew is far out of town.” She winked, and off she went.

  As soon as I felt like she was far enough down the boardwalk and about to enjoy her latte in peace, I ran to the door and opened it. I had to see her take the first sip. I had to see the look on her face.

  She was hurrying past All About the Details, and everyone in there was anticipating her arrival. She didn’t slow down. The closer she got to the end of the boardwalk and near the grassy trail down at the shore of Lake Honey Springs near the Cocoon Hotel, I got my phone camera ready to capture her taking the first drink. Not that I would share it, but I sure did want to have it for my own personal pleasure. After all, when would another Hollywood celebrity come to the Bean Hive or even Honey Springs, for that matter?

  The sound of screeching tires coming from the boardwalk parking lot made me move the phone away from my face. When I looked up, there was diesel smoke from here to high heaven, and the Bean Hive coffee cup was lying on the ground along with the ham-and-cheese quiche.

  My mind tried to wrap around what was happening before my eyes, which were fixed on Daisy’s face squished up against the rear window of an old red pickup truck that’d seen much better days.

  There was a look of fright and fear on her face, her eyes haunting. I ran to All About the Details as fast as my legs could carry me.

  “Daisy! She’s been kidnapped!” I screamed in a shrill and scared voice once I opened the doors to the event facility.

  Everyone jerked around. Spencer had jumped off of the stage in the front of the room and rushed toward me.

  “Daisy! Someone just took her!” I yelled, nearly fainting.

  “No! Not my Daisy!”

  I looked up at the front of the room when I heard Stephen Lemon yelling, his cell phone in his hand. “Help!” He held his phone out with a photo. “My Daisy! She’s been kidnapped!”

  “Roxy, stay there!” Spencer instructed me and ran back to the stage, where Stephen Lemon appeared to be having a meltdown. Spencer took Stephen’s phone. His face pasty white, he said, “Everyone line up while I go check out the scene. The boardwalk is now a kidnapping scene.”

  Everyone did exactly as Spencer had told us to do.

  Spencer was busy already, making calls on his sheriff’s phone, calling out APBs on any car going in and out of Honey Springs. He called in reinforcements. On his way out the door, he grabbed me by my hand, getting ready to drag me out with him.

  “Wait! Where is everyone going?” the mayor begged. “We’ve not unveiled the bust at Central Park!”

  “Bust?” Loretta bolted out of her seat. “What about my jewels?”

  “Bust? Jewels? My dear sweet Daisy has been taken, and all you care about is the bust?” Stephen Lemon lunged for the mayor.

  Spencer dropped my arm and bolted to the front of the room, where he’d peeled a very upset Stephen Lemon off of our poor mayor.

  Now, everyone had lost their minds.

  FOUR

  The deputies were all over the movie set that was still set up on the boardwalk. Some of them were taking photos, while another handful were interviewing people and crew members who might’ve seen anything.

  Spencer had put all the shops on the boardwalk on lockdown, going from shop to shop, conducting interviews with anyone who was in the shop during the time of the kidnapping.

  I’d heard there was a follow-up text from the kidnapper to Stephen Lemon’s phone, demanding a ransom of four hundred thousand dollars along with naming a meeting place for tomorrow afternoon at 4 p.m. “Daisy for the cash and no cops” was what the kidnapper had told him.

  The few eighteen-wheeler trucks the production company had used to haul the equipment had already pulled into the parking lot to load and head out of town, but Spencer had stopped those too.

  “We need to unhook Daisy’s makeup trailer and go through it for clues. I need everyone who worked on the set to line up and sit down along the curb so we can interview them,” one of the deputies told the other deputies in the Bean Hive, where they’d made their headquarters.

  I’d put on a fresh pot of coffee and more treats in the oven. It was going to be a long night, and we might as well eat and drink.

  Spencer came into the shop, and without hesitation, he barked orders to the deputies standing around. “You need to put up a police line around the entire parking lot and the boardwalk. Here is where I left off interviews, people. Go!”

  Spencer had told some of the crew members to come into the coffeehouse, along with Crissy Lane and a few other locals who had worked on the set, to give statements. Most of them mumbled that they didn’t see anything and didn’t know why they were there, but Spencer didn’t care. He was asking general questions about Daisy and their relationship with her and where they were at the time of the kidnapping.

  Stephen Lemon was sitting on a stool at the window bar and looking out at the lake. He was on his phone the entire time, talking loudly. “How much money can I get now? I need it now,” Stephen demanded into the phone.

  I grabbed a piece of the blueberry crumb cake and headed his way. I sat it down in front of him and gave a sympathetic smile. The blueberry crumb cake was comfort food at its finest, and he needed a little comfort, though I knew it wouldn’t take away his pain.

  “Roxy.” Spencer called me over to a table where he’d been conducting the interviews.

  “Hey.” I hurried over.

  He gestured for me to sit down in the empty chair across from him. “Let’s go through this one more time.” Spencer looked down at the notebook. “I’m going to ask you the same questions I did earlier, but I’m also going to ask you to come to the station to give a full account on the record.”

  I nodded.

  “Earlier—” I started to say.

  “How much earlier?” he asked for clarification.

  “This afternoon, right after the taping, Daisy tapped me on the shoulder, and she whispered in my ear.” I could still feel the wind from her breath against my ear, sending chills up my body. “Daisy had asked me to make her one of the Star-Studded Lattes I’d been making for the crew the entire time they’d been here. She also ordered a ham-and-cheese quiche. She made me promise to keep it a secret for a few days because Stephen never let her have anything unhealthy for fear of weight gain. She was gracious enough to let me take a photo of her holding the latte in one hand and the Southern Women’s CD in the other, only if I waited a few days to show the photo. That way, if Stephen saw it, she’d be able to show him that she’d not gained an ounce of weight, so no harm done.”

  Gosh, hearing her words come out of my mouth made me think she was scared of her own husband.

  “That’s not true.” Stephen jumped up from the stool, knocking his knees against the window bar, sending the plate with the blueberry crumb cake to the floor, shattering it into pieces.

  Everyone stopped and looked at him.

  He pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed it against his cheek. “Daisy would never, ever, ever eat ham. She was a vegetarian.”

  “Do you think I’m lying?” I glared at the worried husband. “I’m trying to save your wife’s life by telling Spencer everything.”

  “I think you misunderstood. I’m grateful you took the time to ta
lk to my sweet Daisy.” I could tell he was choosing his words, careful not to make me mad since I was the last person Daisy had talked to. He paced behind Spencer and me. “I know my Daisy. She’s never eaten anything with eyes.”

  “She sure did want to. And she asked for extra whipped cream. That comes from something with eyes.” I turned back around, hands folded between my knees, giving my attention back to Spencer.

  Bunny rushed behind Spencer with a broom and dustpan, headed over to clean up the mess Stephen had made.

  “That’s not what matters right now.” Spencer looked at Stephen. “What matters is who took her and why.”

  “I know why!” Stephen put the phone back to his ear. “She’s a star. Some creepy, obsessed guy took her. Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” he went back to talking to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Four hundred thousand.”

  That caught my attention because it was exactly what I’d heard about the kidnapper’s request.

  “Can I see your photos?” Spencer asked.

  I quickly retrieved them on the phone and handed it to him. I had nothing to hide.

  “Please forward those to me.” He handed the phone back to me.

  I quickly sent them via text and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  “What kind of car was it?” Spencer asked, trying to ignore Stephen and his conversation.

  “It was a truck. An old beat-up truck. It looked like it was two-tone red-and-white. Mainly red but a foot-and-a-half white strip in the middle.” I pulled my hands apart to show exactly how wide the white stripe was. “I’ve never seen it around here. All I know is that I gave Daisy her quiche and latte. I followed her because I wanted to get a photo of her at the lake enjoying them.” I used my hands to express billowing smoke. “There was smoke coming out of the tailpipe of the truck, and it zoomed off. When the exhaust cleared, I saw the wrapper on the ground from the quiche and the latte. Daisy’s face was planted on the back of the window of the truck with a look of fright I’m not sure I’m ever going to forget.”

  I put my hands up to my face and started to sob. The images of her eyes were burned into my memory. How could this be happening? It was only a short time ago I was standing in this very spot, thinking how great life was.

  Spencer stood up and gave me a couple of rubs on my back.

  “I’m going to go check on the scene. You stay right here.” He tugged on a couple of the latex gloves from his coat pocket.

  When he walked out of the coffeehouse, I got up to gain some composure and looked out the window. The sun’s rays were drawn across the lake. On a normal day, I would be enjoying the beauty, but not now. All I could think of was how Daisy wasn’t here to enjoy it, and I wondered if she could see it from wherever the kidnapper had taken her.

  There was a crowd that was similar to the one from earlier that’d gathered behind the police line. A lot of gawkers came to see exactly what the police had in mind to bring Daisy back safe and sound.

  “Roxy! You want to give a statement to the paper?” Aunt Maxi waved her hand in the air and shoved past the cop at the door. “I’ll quote you in my People magazine article too.” She smacked the cop with her pad of paper. “Move it. I own this joint.”

  “Good gravy.” Crissy walked over to me. “Maxi is like a hungry tiger. She isn’t going to go away easily.”

  “There’s nothing to say.” I kneeled down next to the quiche display and remembered how happy Daisy looked when she ordered the latte. “According to her husband, she doesn’t eat anything with eyes, but she sure was salivating at the ham-and-cheese quiche she ordered.” I looked up when I heard a clicking noise.

  Aunt Maxi had changed out the lens on her fancy camera and was taking close-ups of me.

  “You’re the last person she talked to?” Aunt Maxi questioned.

  “Stop.” I pushed myself up to stand. “None of this is on record. Understand?”

  I knew Aunt Maxi, and she was going to dig and dig until she got to the bottom of what had happened to Daisy. Aunt Maxi would ride this all the way to the bank.

  “It needs to be on record because Twitter is abuzz about your hashtag kidnap hashtag latte.” Aunt Maxi scrolled through her phone. “Social media is going to kill you. Plus, I’ve got my article for People magazine.”

  “My what?” I gulped.

  “Everyone online is calling your Star-Studded Latte the Kidnap Latte.” She laughed.

  “I love People magazine online,” Bunny mentioned on her way to the trash can, where she dumped the contents of the dustpan. “I look at it every morning.”

  “Online. Meh,” Aunt Maxi groaned under her breath. “I’m getting a print magazine article,” she murmured a little louder.

  Everyone kind of ignored her.

  “I guess we still need to get the pastries and cookies ready for the wrap party.” I was in a bit of shock after what Aunt Maxi had showed me. I glanced over at Stephen, who was still on the phone.

  “Oh, they canceled that,” Crissy said. “Stephen said they wouldn’t do any party without the star.”

  I got my phone out of my pocket and texted Camey to make sure what Crissy had said was true. Immediately, she responded with a yes.

  Then a text popped in from my mom. Now that Daisy was missing, she was going to go ahead and schedule more work at the real estate office.

  “If you think I’m going to let this opportunity go by, kidnapped actress or not, I’m not. You have a business to save unless you want to go back to being a lawyer full-time.” Aunt Maxi trotted right on over to Stephen Lemon, like a little pony, her arm in the air, waving around that CD like it was a winning lottery ticket. I didn’t even tell her I’d given it to Daisy, because I was sure it was lost now.

  “What do you need from me?” Crissy jumped up to lend a hand. “I have nothing better to do until Spencer lets me leave.”

  “I need someone to get on social media and find any and all photos that were taken of the event,” I told her. “If someone took Daisy, they had to have noticed she’d not left the set with Stephen to come to the council meeting. This person had to have lingered and waited for the opportunity to nab her. Which makes me believe there has to be a photo of the person who took her.” I gnawed on my lip. “I can’t wait for Spencer Shepard to find her. My business is affected, and I have to stop the bleed. We are going to find her.”

  FIVE

  “It was a big event, and a lot of people were here taking cell phone pictures,” Crissy said, looking over my shoulder at the iPad screen. “Hashtag Honey Springs,” she suggested.

  I clicked away and hit Enter.

  “Whoa” was Crissy’s exact word that she chose to say over and over.

  “The Bean Hive serves up a kidnapper latte to actress Daisy Lemon,” I read, letting it all sink down into my broken heart. “Don’t drink the lattes in this small Kentucky town.”

  The headlines on social media were one after the other.

  “Word sure does spread quickly.” My brows furrowed.

  “Nothing can happen nowadays without someone knowing about it.” Bunny used the wet rag to wipe down the tables where some of the movie crew had enjoyed the free refreshments I’d offered them as they had waited to be interviewed by Spencer. “In the good old days, we had to wait until it hit the evening news or the old gossip telephone. Then they had the police scanners, which, I do love mine.”

  The three of us laughed in spite of the situation I was in.

  “But I really need to get a look at all the people from Honey Springs’s social media accounts to see if there were any clues,” I told her, but mainly to reiterate the importance social media had started to play in solving crimes. “I hear every day where the police solved a crime because it was on social media.”

  “Are you going to find my wife or not?” Stephen stomped over to the door when Spencer came back in.

  “I’m going to need your cell phone.” I watched Stephen’s reaction when Spencer told him that. Stephen bumbled and mumb
led before he blew up like a balloon.

  “Are you nuts? I have Hollywood stars and agent phone numbers that are very confidential in there.” He patted the latest version of the iPhone that was hooked on his belt.

  Crissy and I both put a piece of the blueberry crumb cake in our mouth like we were eating popcorn and we were watching a movie. It was actually fascinating to me that Stephen never once asked for his lawyer.

  “Don’t you want to find your wife?” Spencer asked, knowing that the husband was the first person we looked at in an investigation.

  “Of course I do.” His jaw tensed.

  “Then I need to see the text you read before you jumped up and yelled that Daisy had been taken. I need to get the photo off your phone and the location the kidnapper sent you.” I wasn’t sure if Stephen didn’t understand technology or if he was just playing dumb.

  “You can do that?” he asked.

  “Yes, and if you don’t give it to me now, we can run the photo and the location of where the photo was sent, tracking down some leads where the kidnapper could be headed or where they were or even who owns the phone it was sent from.” Spencer held his hand out. “Give me your phone so we can find her. Alive.” Spencer emphasized “alive” so Stephen would get the picture.

  “Yeah, sure.” He unclipped his phone, and before Spencer took it, he got out an evidence bag from his jacket pocket and had Stephen put it in there.

  “Why are you putting it in evidence?”

  “It is evidence. Anything that has to do with the case is evidence. What’s your pass code?”

  “Our anniversary date.” He blinked. There was a sadness on his face. “0310.”

  I watched Spencer punch in the numbers and touch the messenger icon to pull up the messages. He touched the last screen and showed the photo to Stephen.

  It was a photo of Daisy with a handkerchief over her mouth. Her neck was dripping with all the necklaces that Loretta Bebe had let the production company borrow. Daisy looked like a walking model for Diamond’s, and if the poor woman weren’t in this predicament, I might’ve laughed at the photos.