killer coffee 04 - cold blooded brew Read online

  As the clock ticked closer to six, the customers trickled out one by one and left me alone. I didn’t mind. The buzzing of the industrial coffeepots and the smell of some of the leftover pastries circled around me, causing my shoulders to fall back down instead of hovering around my ears.

  “You need to go potty?” I asked Pepper, who’d been such a good boy all day.

  He jumped up from the bed and darted to the front door of the shop. I swung by the fireplace and turned the gas off, so the flame would go out. The last thing I needed was the coffeehouse to burn down and the other shops around me to catch on fire.

  I noticed the plates and coffee cups, not to mention the used napkins left on the tables. “We’ve got a mess to clean up. It’ll have to wait until we get back.”

  I locked the shop door behind me, since I carried my keys in my pocket.

  “Let’s go this way,” I said to Pepper as I started walking toward the Bee’s Knees Bakery.

  The light was on, and I’d not heard from Emily since I texted her after I left the Cocoon Hotel. It was probably nosy of me to want to know about her financial situation, but I took some responsibility because of the fact that I was the one who talked them into opening it. To be fair, she didn’t need the talking to—it was her father. If she was having money issues, I felt horrible about it.

  Emily was inside, and she looked up when Pepper jumped up, putting his paws on the window and pressing his nose to the glass.

  She didn’t have any sort of seating in her bakery. It was just a come-in-and-order-or-grab-a-donut-or-two kind of place, or maybe cookies or whatever other pastry she had that day. It took her a mere second to come over and unlock the door.

  “Hey, there.” I walked in as she held the door open for me. “I messaged you today.”

  “Did you?” She forced a smile. “I haven’t looked.”

  “You are very busy or awfully flustered.” I noticed her apron was messy—the inside of the bakery was, too. It wasn’t like her, and it certainly was not like her to be so unkempt.

  “I’m busy. Did you need something? You said you messaged me.” She didn’t move away from the door. And when Pepper nudged her leg with his nose, she didn’t even notice. They’d been thicker than thieves when she worked for me. He even went to spend the night with her once or twice.

  “Actually, I wanted to know if you knew anything about Hillary Canter?” I asked.

  “I know a lot about her.”

  That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

  “She’s dead, for one.” There was no love lost in her voice.

  “Did you happen to see her this morning when you were here?” I asked.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “When Pepper and I biked by, I saw the back light on.” I had a sneaking suspicion that she was keeping something from me. “Listen, I know whatever it is that’s bugging you isn’t my business. I feel a little responsible that you’re here. And if you’re having some issues, I’d like to help.”

  “Did Hillary tell you about me?” There was even more disgust on her face the second time she said Hillary’s name. “I saw the three of you at Queen for a Day.”

  “I was there getting a dress for Pam’s wedding reception that I hoped would double as a work dress. Hillary was there by herself, and so was Babette. None of us were together. Tell me what’s going on. I can help.” I really wanted her to open up to me.

  “The bank is calling in my loan on the shop. There’s no way I can pay it.” Her voice cracked. “I have all these birthday cakes to do, and I can’t even afford to go to the Piggly Wiggly to get the ingredients. I owe Louise Hill money for the milk and butter she let me take on credit, and now I have to go in for her during the morning hours to milk her goats and cows to pay my debt.”

  My heart broke for her as the tears trickled down her face.

  “Hillary Canter was right. I am a nobody.” She buried her head in her hands.

  “Let me tell you something.” I put my arms around her. “You’re not a nobody.”

  Pepper was distraught from her crying. He sat by our feet, whimpering. When Emily started to laugh, she pulled away and looked down.

  “I’m sorry, Pepper.” She picked up his little salt-and-pepper body and let him lick the tears away. “You’re better than any therapist.”

  “He is.” I ran my hand down his back. He brought a smile and a happy heart to everyone around him. “He’s worried about you, like I am.”

  “I’ll be fine. I guess it wasn’t meant to be right now.” She set Pepper down gently on his paws, and he darted off to sniff the crease of the door.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. “Maybe I can help come up with a solution.”

  “You can go up against Bank Lending Mortgages?” she asked.

  “Your shop’s lease is through Bank Lending Mortgages in Lexington?” I asked.

  “Sure is. My dad said they were the best, and Honey Springs Bank can’t give me a loan because I’m so young with no real credit. He set it up and even co-signed the loan for me.” This brought another set of tears.

  “My aunt, Maxi, is looking into them for my mama. One of her clients is having an issue with them.” I ran my hand down her back to offer some sort of support, but my thoughts were somewhere else—such as the mortgage company and what was going on with them. “Can I tell her about your loan?”

  “Yeah, if she can do anything about it,” Emily sniffled. “About your earlier question about Hillary. I was here that morning, but I didn’t see her. I decided to stay here all night and try to get as many baked goods done I as I could muster up with few ingredients so I could sell them and have some money. I fell asleep on the floor in the back when I was taking a break. I woke up to a smoking oven with burnt cupcakes and nothing to sell when I opened the doors. By the time I got the smoke cleared, it was three thirty in the morning, and soon, the cows and goats would be up.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I had to go to Hill’s Dairy Farm to fulfill my duties there. I left the lights on. I went out the front door, and Hillary was not there. I know because I would have seen her if she was.” She pointed towards the direction of my shop. “I parked down that way, and I had to walk right past the café tables.”

  “You said three thirty?” I asked.

  “Yes. It was three thirty.” She didn’t stutter.

  TEN

  “I’m telling you that it had to have happened between three thirty and four thirty a.m.” I stood in Sheriff Spencer’s office and talked so fast my words were slurring. I thought it was important that he knew the time.

  He sat behind his desk and gave me the stink eye. “I thought I told you to stay out of it” was all he had to say.

  The knock on his door came at the perfect time. I turned around to see a deputy walk in. He held up one of the mini-Bundt cakes I had left over from earlier. I’d packed them up with me when I went back to the shop after talking to Emily. “Thanks, Roxy,” he said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “Aw, thanks. Y’all always make me feel so good.”

  “Have you watched all the security tapes from the boardwalk?” I asked.

  “Why? Why? Why?” He pushed himself back from his desk and threw his hands up in the air. “Why don’t you just stick with brewing the beans? Why do you have to look into things?”

  “Because I have a good friend, maybe two, who appears to be on your suspect list, and it’s all because of a coat and a cake.” I threw my hands up to match his.

  There was a moment of silence between us. It was as if we were in one of those detective shows where the detective gives the dreaded pause to see if the person he’s questioning will crack. It had to be some sort of tactic they taught in cop school… or whatever they call it.

  Another knock came at the door, and it was good timing for Sheriff Spencer, because I could’ve waited him out all night.

  The deputy was back. “Sheriff, the groundskeeper from the Honey Springs Country Club ca
lled. He said there’s been some suspicious activity on the golf course and wanted to know if you could come by to take a look and file a report.”

  Spencer looked at me then back at the deputy. “Yeah, I’m done here.” He stood and ran his hand through his hair. He took a couple of steps toward the door. He stopped shy of passing me. “Stay out of it.”

  “Just check the times.” I wasn’t going to do it, but I did. I said, “If you think you want to question Babette, you need to have me present because she’s retained me as her lawyer.”

  Abruptly, he stopped at the door with his back facing me. I watched with anticipation as his shoulders lifted when he sucked in a breath. They fell back down as he exhaled, and he continued walking without acknowledging what I’d said.

  “I’ll check with the coroner” was all he said.

  Pepper was getting all sorts of pats from the girls who worked up front in the sheriff’s department. He was all too happy to hang out with them while I was in Spencer’s office trying to convince him to investigate the time of death.

  “He’s such a sweetheart, Roxy,” Gloria Dei said. She was always so nice when I came in here. “Now, tell me what you know about this Hillary Canter girl.”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” My eyebrows formed a V. “I’m afraid he’s pegged Babette as his number-one suspect, but that can’t be right.”

  “I know that they found a photo of a cake in the pocket of that jacket.” She had a file sitting on her desk. “And I just filed this,” she said. She slid it across her desk to me. “Maybe Hillary had more than one enemy.”

  “Emily.” I looked the paper, knowing I was right that she was a suspect.

  “And who else?” she asked, pushing another piece of paper in front of me.

  “Pam?” My eyebrows knitted together. Everything I’d been thinking about Pam and how she had a clear motive and very public altercations with Hillary the day before the murder was swirling around in my head.

  Gloria shrugged with her lips pinched together.

  “He’s on his way to her place after he goes to the country club.” Gloria took the copy of the warrant to put it back in the file.

  “Thanks.” I tapped her desk with my fingertips. “Let’s go, Pepper. We’ve got a few things to get cleared up.”

  Pepper sat in the front seat of my little car. He was so cute. He always sat on his bottom and didn’t mind the doggie seat belt I’d bought at A Walk in the Bark. He looked out the windshield like a little person. Even the cows and the running horses along the Kentucky Fence Post didn’t make Pepper try to jump up to bark.

  “How about some fresh air?” I asked Pepper, rolling down his window. He was able to rest his chin on the door and take in some great country air. “I know I could use some.”

  The late-day sun was quickly going down. There were more shadows on the pavement from the sun trying to shine through the leaves on the trees, and the air was a little nippy. It was a great refresher for my mind, which was gathering questions for Jean Hill.

  There was a fork in the road after the third hairpin curve. I’ll never forget the directions Jean’s late husband had given me the first time I’d gone to their farm. “At the fork in the road, remember the tine is the right time,” he’d said. It made no sense whatsoever, but it made perfect sense at the same time. The tine meant the fork in the road, and right was the direction.

  I veered right at the fork. Not too far ahead was the old, weathered barn wood sign that said Hill’s Orchard in bright-red letters. I turned into the driveway.

  I was happy to see that the apple trees were still on the right and the grapevines were on the left as far as the eye could see, because I wasn’t sure if Jean wanted to keep the orchard going. It was a lot of work.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Pepper then unhooked his seat belt. He jumped to his feet and wagged his little stubby tail. He even let out a few howls of delight.

  “Is that you, Roxy?” I heard Jean call from the front porch. I could tell there was something in the big ceramic crock sitting in her lap.

  “Hi, there,” I called. I waved over the roof of my car and grabbed the bag of scones I had originally planned on taking home. It was always good Southern manners to take something when showing up somewhere unannounced.

  Pepper darted out my door and ran up the steps, stopping right next to Jean.

  “Oh, Pepper.” She giggled. Her fingers were red, and she let him lick them. “He’s as delightful as you are.” The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “What’s my pleasure?”

  “Actually”—I hesitated—“I’m here to get some fruit and some questions answered.”

  “You can have all the fruit you want.” She winked. “And you’re here on a great day. I’ve been canning my jams.”

  “That’s what that is.” I looked into the crock of what was once raspberries. Instead of using a tool to mash them, she used her fingers.

  “Come on in.” She stood up with the crock situated under one arm. “Can you get the door?”

  I hurried around her and grabbed the handle of the old screen door, which let out a welcoming screech when I pulled it open.

  “How’s everything going?” I asked as I followed her into her sixties-style ranch house. I was a little taken aback when I noticed the orange carpet and old apple wallpaper hadn’t been replaced.

  “Fair to middlin’,” she said. She walked over to the jars of jam sitting on the old wooden kitchen table. “The orchard and farm are doing good. I’m paying the bills. Have a seat.”

  I did what she said and put the bag of scones on the table. She walked over to the stove and turned the knob to light the gas. She dragged the steel kettle off the burner and took it to the kitchen sink to fill it up.

  “You got time for a quick cup of coffee?” She returned the kettle to the flame. “Now what was it you wanted to ask me?” She grabbed two saucers and cups out of the cabinet.

  “I wanted to know about Emily Rich and her working for you.” I opened the bag of scones and put one on each saucer as Jean sat down on the table. Emily said she was here, and if she was, Jean could be her alibi. “I feel a little responsible for her business going under since I’m the one who talked her into opening it.”

  “Honey, you can’t run the bank.” Jean dragged the butter plate that sat on her table over to her and swiped her scone in it. It was a Southern thing that we all did.

  “If her business was doing well, then she wouldn’t be late on her payments.” I sighed and took a bite of the scone.

  The kettle wobbled and wheezed to life. Pepper yelped at the stove and bounced on his paws to see what was making all the ruckus.

  Jean and I laughed at him.

  Jean made some instant coffee in the cups then brought them over to the table. “The bank called in the full loan. Banks don’t just do that out of nowhere. Something down there ain’t right.”

  I looked at her with a critical eye. “I’m sure her dad would’ve stopped it if that was the case. He is the loan officer.”

  “All I know is that she needed some quick cash to get the orders that she already had filled, and then she was going to shut down. She owed me money for the fresh milk, cream, and eggs. I told her not to worry about it, but she insisted on paying me back.” Jean’s hand shook as she brought the cup up to her lips.

  “She’s working here to do that?” I wanted to be perfectly clear on what I’d understood to be the case.

  “That’s right,” Jean nodded. “She comes here around three a.m. and milks the cows and goats and retrieves the eggs. I even asked her to become full time when she closes the bakery down. Even offered to have her bake her goods here in my home and sell them at the Farmer’s Market. Her goods would sell well.”

  “Yes. They would,” I agreed.

  I was proof as someone who went to the Farmer’s Market every week and would buy Emily’s pastries.

  “Was she here at three a.m.?” I asked.

  “Sheriff asked me the
same question a few minutes ago.” Her eyebrows dipped as she frowned.

  “Spencer called you?” I asked, wondering how he’d had the time to get in touch with Jean.

  “It was one of the deputies down there,” she said. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

  “I sure hope not.” I stuffed my face with the rest of my scone. “I sure hope not,” I repeated.

  ELEVEN

  As each hour passed, summer was getting closer, and the morning proved it. Though the sun wasn’t out when Pepper and I had gotten to the shop, the air was warm and felt so good going through me on our four a.m. bike ride to the Bean Hive.

  I could barely get to sleep the night before after I’d made a list of all the things I needed to do today. The list probably should’ve been about coffee brewing and baking, but instead it was of places I needed to go.

  It just didn’t make sense that Emily, Pam, and Babette were suspects. There was no denying that all three wanted to get some sort of justice on Hillary—but murder? That was a far-fetched idea for me, and I was going to prove it. Emily had a clear alibi, so I knew she didn’t do it, but I was curious about her other fiasco with the bank.

  Even Patrick and I had cut our conversation short the night before. He was tired from something he had going on at work, and I was tired from thinking about how I was going to help my friends. So that we could actually carve out some time together, we made a date for tonight at The Watershed, a fun, upscale restaurant located at the end of the boardwalk, opposite the side of the boat dock. Every table had a spectacular view of the lake. It was a white-tablecloth-style restaurant that made for a truly magical date night. It was something to look forward to, and I couldn’t wait to tell him about the murder case, even though he wasn’t going to like the fact that I was sticking a toe in it.