Ice Coffee Corruption, page 4
Pepper rushed over and sat down at my feet.
“Aww, who put your cute sweater on you?” I asked, knowing perfectly well it was Shanda. Though she worked here part-time, she also worked for my friend Morgan Keys at Walk in the Bark, the cutest pet boutique.
“I couldn’t resist,” Shanda said with a big grin on her face, looking down at the yellow sweater with fall leaves crocheted all over it. “He will blend in with the leaves out there.”
“He sure will.” I sighed and focused on Deputy, who was also sitting very patiently at my feet.
In fact, he’d been a perfect angel since the little escapade earlier today, so I was going to chalk that up as a rare incident until he proved me wrong. I gulped down the thought because for some reason, it was hard for me to even believe.
“Deputy, it’s not fair for you to stay cooped up in the coffeehouse when you need to get out among the public to find a fur-ever home,” I said, clipping his collar on him.
He wagged his tail enthusiastically, clearly happy to be going out again.
I grabbed the red folder with all his stats in it, knowing I’d need it at the booth when someone walked by and commented on the cute dogs. I wanted to be ready to tell them Deputy was available for adoption.
“Ready to go?” I asked Aunt Maxi and Bunny, who were balancing trays of cookies.
“Ready!” they chimed in unison.
With Deputy and Pepper on their leashes and the red folder tucked under my arm, we left the Bean Hive and headed toward the festival booth.
Until Aunt Maxi abruptly stopped and motioned with her eyes for me to look.
Kevin Roberts pushing the church cart, which was technically a gurney he used to transport bodies to his hearse as the county coroner, had stopped just about all foot traffic. Everyone and their mother had stopped to gawk, point, and whisper about why the coroner was there.
“I’m guessing I lied to the sheriff,” Bunny said and sucked in a deep breath. She was gripping the tray of cookies. “What would take me and my arthritic hips a minute to walk down to the Cocoon Hotel just might take a bit longer.”
In no uncertain terms, she was telling us she was staying for the show.
I noticed Kevin glancing around. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on me. He gave a brief nod and then turned his attention to the task at hand.
The hushed whispers grew louder, and the crowd seemed to press in closer, eager for any bit of information.
“Excuse me, folks,” Kevin said in his deep, authoritative voice. “Please make way. Official business here.”
The crowd reluctantly parted, and Kevin continued with his work. He secured the gurney carefully before heading toward the pier. The sight of him and the gurney approaching the scene of the crime sent a shiver down my spine.
I glanced at Aunt Maxi and Bunny. “This is not good.”
“No kidding,” Aunt Maxi said. “We need to find out what he’s discovered.”
I watched as Kevin spoke briefly with Sheriff Spencer Shepard, who had arrived on the scene. They exchanged a few words before Kevin lifted the cover on the gurney and revealed the lifeless form beneath, now disguised as a scarecrow.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Bunny asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Probably figuring out how to handle the situation without causing a full-blown panic,” I replied. “But whatever it is, it’s serious.”
Kevin and Spencer continued their conversation, their expressions grim. I could see them gesturing toward the boat dock, and I knew they were piecing together the same clues we had.
Sensing the tension, Deputy tugged slightly on his leash and looked up at me with his big expressive eyes.
“Easy, boy,” I said, giving him a reassuring pat.
Kevin finally looked up, catching my eye again. He nodded toward the Bean Hive, indicating he wanted to speak with me. I took a deep breath and handed Pepper’s leash to Aunt Maxi.
“Hold onto him for me, will you?” I asked, knowing she could handle sweet Pepper and the cookies better than she could Deputy.
“Sure thing, hon,” she said, giving me an encouraging smile.
Deputy and I made our way through the crowd, feeling the weight of the people’s curious stares. As I approached Kevin and Spencer, the gravity of the situation hit me at full force. This was no longer just a festival; it was the scene of a mystery that needed solving.
“Roxy,” Kevin greeted me, his tone respectful but urgent. “We need to talk.”
“Of course,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “What can I do to help?”
“We’re trying to piece together the timeline of events,” Spencer said. “Anything you can remember about what you saw or heard could be crucial.” His voice had taken on a different tone than it had when he was in the coffeehouse.
The change got my attention.
I nodded and glanced back at Aunt Maxi and Bunny. They were watching from a distance, and I gestured for them to go ahead without me.
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” I said.
“Do you think you can come by the department in the morning?” Spencer asked. He must’ve seen my confused expression. “You know as well as I do how witnesses to crimes often can’t remember some of the things they witnessed until their nervous systems have calmed down and their minds process the events.”
Oh my, how much Spencer had changed in the last few years. And the transformation was welcome. It was true that ninety percent of the time, a witness to a crime took days, if not months, to start recalling the facts of the traumatic event. That was our bodies’ way of protecting us, and he was right.
“Sure. I think a night of sleep and a little time will help me and even Aunt Maxi and Loretta process what we saw,” I told Spencer and Kevin. “Do you know who the victim is yet?”
Kevin lifted his chin and looked at Spencer as though he was trying to determine whether or not he should tell me.
“I think my record stands.” I began my speech, which they’d heard over and over but for some reason couldn’t get through their thick skulls. “I have that face,” I said, planting a truly genuine smile on it, “that tells people they can trust me, and I also happen to serve the best cup of coffee in town. And as we all know, people love to talk over a good cup of hot joe.”
I thought that was why I had always been drawn to coffee. Memories of my dad and mama sitting around the table on the weekends after long weeks of work made it seem that those times were sacred to them.
To me.
They would talk about the week’s events when during the week they didn’t have time. They would tell stories about what they experienced. Mama would tell a little neighborhood gossip, and Dad would let me dip my cookie into his coffee, a beverage that seemed so taboo at the time.
Then there was Honey Springs. My dad would bring me here every summer to visit his aunt Maxi, my great-aunt, and I would beg him to leave me there. My mama didn’t like it, but it had all turned out fine now that she, too, lived here.
But my dad knew what he was doing. He was giving me a family in Honey Springs so that when he died, it would feel natural to come visit the town. It was during those summer nights, lying around in Aunt Maxi’s house, going to the Watershed Restaurant with her, and catching the latest gossip at the Crooked Cat Bookstore, that she and her book club would not discuss their assigned book but gossip about the townspeople instead. Loretta Bebe and Bunny Bowowski were two of them.
Their talk wasn’t just gossip over coffee but true, genuine conversation among friends. They spoke about friendships, love, and deaths and solved one another’s problems.
When I got divorced, it was those times in my childhood that I longed for, so showing up in Honey Springs a few years ago was my cozy blanket. It was only natural for me to want to open a coffeehouse there, and before long, the Bean Hive was open for business.
They say time changes things but it doesn’t change conversations over coffee. And that was my superpower when it came to everything Spencer needed to know about what I was sure would be classified as a homicide.
He needed my ear to the ground tomorrow morning, when he knew all the citizens of Honey Springs would be stopping in for the latest gossip… over coffee.
CHAPTER SIX
The Friendsgiving Harvest Fest was in full swing, even though the ribbon ceremony hadn’t kicked things off.
After agreeing to keep my ears open tonight for the name of the victim, Jennifer Armstrong, I made my way to the Cocoon Hotel.
The sidewalk from the boardwalk to the hotel was bustling with people, their laughter and chatter filling the crisp fall air. The smells of roasted nuts and caramel apples wafted through the air, making my mouth water.
The bright lights from the carnival rides caught my eye as I proceeded to the Bean Hive’s tent. The Ferris wheel turned slowly, its seats filled with happy families enjoying the view of Honey Springs from above. The merry-go-round’s cheerful music added a festive touch, and the colorful lights of the merry-go-round blinked in a playful rhythm, creating a sense of excitement and fun.
The lawn between the hotel and the beach of Lake Honey Springs was transformed into a lively festival ground. White tents were set up in neat rows, each one offering different treats and crafts.
As soon as I smelled the funnel cakes, my mouth watered for a cup of hot cider. It was just that time of the year for me. Children ran around with faces painted like tigers and butterflies, their giggles blending with the distant hum of the carnival rides.
The centerpiece of the festival was the stage. It was decorated with autumn leaves, pumpkins, and hay bales, creating a cheerful rustic atmosphere. A large ribbon stretched across the front of the stage, ready to be cut to signify the start of the ceremony. The mayor, Loretta, and Camey Montgomery sat on the stage, chatting and waiting for the event to begin.
I took a deep breath, savoring the mixture of the crisp fall air and the sweet and savory scents of festival food. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, and the late-afternoon sun added to the small-town scene.
“There you are,” Patrick said, walking up to me. He gave me a kiss before he turned his attention to Deputy. “And this is the man of the hour.”
Patrick bent down to Deputy and rubbed his chest, telling the dog he was a good boy.
“I heard he chased off a killer.” Patrick stood up, his deep brown eyes laced with concern. “Or is that not right?”
“I’m guessing Aunt Maxi and Loretta told you that,” I said. “I’m not sure, but do you know Jennifer Armstrong?”
“Aiken Armstrong’s wife?” he asked.
“No,” Patrick gasped. His eyes shot open, and he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I do think his wife is named Jennifer. Quiet type. It was her?”
“That’s what Spencer told me.” I gave him a brief rundown of the conversation I had with Spencer and Kevin.
“How did she die?” He asked a very good question with an answer I didn’t know.
“They didn’t say, and I’m not even sure if they got her down from the…” I waffled on how to say “scarecrow position.” “This guy, true to his name, has some sort of keen nose.”
Then it hit me. I remembered that Deputy really did hear the scream and that it set him in motion to run toward the danger, throw his nose in the air, and pursue the person who had jumped in the boat.
“Roxanne, I know that look,” Patrick warned.
Right then, Loretta Bebe’s big performance began.
“Welcome, everyone, to the Friendsgiving Harvest Fest!” she announced, her voice ringing out clearly. “We’re so glad to have you all here today to celebrate friendship, community, and the bounty of the season. Let’s make this the best festival yet!”
The crowd cheered, and the mayor, Camey, and Loretta each picked up a pair of scissors, which they poised to cut the ribbon. The anticipation was palpable, and I felt a sense of excitement and pride for our little town.
With a quick snip, the ribbon was cut, and the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. The Friendsgiving Harvest Fest was officially underway, and it was off to a great start.
Minus the one murder.
Patrick and I walked over to the tent, and I could tell by the way he continued to glance at me that he still wanted to talk about my habit of scratching my curious side, which in this case was provoked by Jennifer’s murder.
But I didn’t dare give him a glance. From the corner of my eye, I could see he was itching to ask.
“Thank you, Aunt Maxi.” I hurried underneath the tent to make some sort of conversation with her rather than with Patrick.
Aunt Maxi was already bustling around with a big smile on her face. The three dogs—Pepper, Deputy, and Sassy, our black standard poodle—were all present, wagging their tails in delight as they took in all the people and sniffs they could explore.
Deputy was definitely not staying true to his hound dog behavior when he’d realized there was danger.
“It looks so good,” I told Birdie Bebe, Loretta’s granddaughter, who was also an employee of the coffeehouse. “It’s a coffee haven,” I said to her as I looked around at the autumnal decorations.
I walked around and took in all the scattered pumpkins of various sizes and colors and the bundles of dried cornstalks framing the entrance.
Under the tent, she’d covered the tables with gingham cloths. The smell of freshly baked goods filled the air, mingling with that of the special Harvest Harmony Blend coffee I had roasted for the occasion.
I checked the large drink cooler to make sure the iced coffee dispensers were topped off. The cool, refreshing drink was a hit among those bustling around the festival tents, pairing perfectly with the sweet treats we had on offer.
"Y’all are right on time," Aunt Maxi called out as she arranged a platter of pumpkin spice muffins. "These folks are hungry!"
Patrick helped me display the trays of treats we had prepared, each one looking more delicious than the last.
The pumpkin spice muffins were moist and flavorful, capturing the essence of fall. The scones brought bursts of tart cranberry and zesty orange, while the apple-cinnamon-bread slices offered a spiced delight. The maple-pecan breakfast bars, packed with nuts and sweetened with syrup, were both satisfying and easy to grab. Finally, the sweet potato biscuits, perfect for a quick treat, were a hit with everyone who tried them.
We had something for everyone.
"Can I get a cup of that special coffee I’ve been hearing about?" one of the festivalgoers asked, stepping up to the counter.
"Of course," I said with a smile, pouring a steaming cup of the Harvest Harmony Blend. The rich, aromatic coffee was the perfect complement to the treats we had on offer.
"Thank you so much," the woman said. She took a sip and closed her eyes in bliss. "This is amazing!"
"I’m glad you like it," I replied, handing her a pumpkin spice muffin to go with her coffee.
Patrick and Aunt Maxi were busy serving customers too. Patrick handed out slices of apple-cinnamon bread to a group of children, while Aunt Maxi made sure everyone got a taste of the cranberry-orange scones.
Deputy, Pepper, and Sassy added to the charm of the tent, greeting customers with wagging tails and friendly nudges. Pepper sat obediently next to the counter, his big dark eyes watching my every move, while Sassy pranced around, showing off her curly black coat. Deputy, ever the charmer, made his rounds, sniffing hands and accepting pats from delighted festivalgoers.
"Your dogs are just precious," an elderly woman commented as she petted Sassy. "And this sweet potato biscuit is divine!"
"Thank you," I said with a feeling of pride. "We love having them here, and I'm glad you're enjoying the treats."
Aunt Maxi handed a plate of maple-pecan breakfast bars to a young couple. “Y'all be sure to try these with some coffee,” she said. “It's a match made in heaven.”
Because of the seasonal change, darkness fell over our little town before long. The colorful carnival rides, twinkle lights strung all over the trees on the lawn, and few lit boats on the lake were the only sources of illumination.
The pop-up coffeehouse remained bustling with activity. Laughter, conversation, and the occasional bark from our furry companions filled the air. Moments like these reminded me of why I loved Honey Springs so much—the sense of community, the joy of simple pleasures, and being surrounded by friends and family. The moment almost made me forget about what had happened to Jennifer.
Patrick wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.
“This is perfect,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of my head. “Until I see you drifting off and you think I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“Look at him.” I pointed out Deputy. “He knew the person running had done something wrong.”
“What are you saying?” Patrick asked. Fear clouded his face. I knew that fear. Even in the darkness, I could see it.
“No. I do not want another dog,” I told him, since it was a challenge for me to not to bring home every single adoptable animal we took in from Pet Palace. “But I do think he might just be able to help me with this case.”
“This case?” Patrick didn’t like certain terms I used. He called them too “lawyery,” his made-up word. “Are you saying Spencer has asked you again to help?”
“Just to keep my ears open, but what if I use Deputy’s ears? His nose?” I looked down at the dog, who had finally lain down on his side and fallen asleep.
Technically, he wasn’t just sleeping. He was dreaming. His paws were moving, and his body jerked like he was after someone.
Was he dreaming of the person running down the boardwalk? The one who jumped into the getaway boat?
“Getaway boat,” I whispered and snapped my finger at Patrick.
“Promise me you’re going to be careful,” Patrick said. He had given in. He knew by how I was thinking that I was already all in on the investigation.
“Do you have this?” I gestured to the pop-up shop.
“Yeah.” He looked at his phone and checked the time. “We only have a couple hours. Let me guess—you’re taking Deputy and retracing the chase.”
