Death by Cafe Mocha

Book 7: Bookstore Cafe Mystery

by Alex Erickson

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Female Sleuths; Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

Krissy Hancock and her pals are taking a coffee break-leaving their bookstore-café in Pine Hills, Ohio, and heading to a convention. But this road trip will be more dangerous than they expected . . .

Coffee lovers are gathering from far and wide, and Krissy, Rita, and Vicki are excited. But some of the attendees may need to switch to decaf, as a public argument breaks out soon after they check in and then a flavor competition leads to bitter feelings.

When the winner of the contest is beaned with a carafe full of café mocha, suspicions swirl-along with accusations of bribery. Was the dead man offering perks to the judges-or was something sinister going on in his personal life? This case is going to keep Krissy up all night long . . .

Release date: August 27, 2019

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

My luggage felt as if someone had loaded bricks into it by the time I reached the front of the line. Huffing and puffing, I dragged it the last few feet and leaned it against the counter, where a smiling clerk waited.

“Hi,” I said, rubbing at my aching shoulder. “I have a reservation. It should be under Krissy Hancock.”

“One moment.” The clerk behind the counter typed my name into the computer with an energetic click-clack. He was humming a tune under his breath and genuinely looked as if he enjoyed his job. He also looked to only be about twenty years old, so it was likely that would change in time.

While he looked me up, I glanced around at the hotel lobby. It was packed with guests, many just arriving, as I was.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we do not have a reservation under that name.”

“Oh.” Mild worry welled in my gut. “Try Vicki Patt—err, Lawyer.” I shook my head, trying to dislodge my best friend’s maiden name from my mind. It had been almost a year since she’d gotten married, and yet I still kept forgetting. “Vicki Lawyer. She made the reservations and might have put them under her name.” Though she had told me she’d made them under my name, as I’d requested. The hotel was my treat. She’d paid for the convention badges for all three of us, so it only seemed right.

And yes, I did mean three.

“Oh, Lordy Lou! Would you look at that!”

I glanced back to find Rita Jablonksi looking up at the hotel elevator. Even though she was short and stocky, her presence practically filled the room, as did her voice.

“There’s fifteen floors to this place!”

Fifteen floors were a lot, but not so many I thought they deserved such a loud and boisterous exclamation. But that was Rita for you. Everything was loud and boisterous, and often exaggerated to the point of disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I still can’t find it,” the clerk said.

“I’m sure it has to be there.” The worry tried to bubble up into a full-on storm of panic. I mentally stomped it flat. “We made the reservations over two months ago. We’re going to JavaCon.”

“I’m sorry.” The clerk didn’t look sorry at all. He looked annoyed. So much for his chipper mood.

“But I . . .” My mind raced. JavaCon was in its first year, yet it had sold out within a month of registration going live, likely thanks to all the social media advertising they had done. People really liked their coffee, and they obviously preferred staying in the hotel connected to the convention center, much like I did. The hotel was booked solid, and another con was happening downtown, meaning if our registration had somehow gotten lost, we’d have nowhere to stay.

“Is there something wrong with the reservation?”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Vicki joined me. Even after our long drive, she looked perfect. Not a single hair was out of place. The clerk’s eyes widened briefly and he stood up straighter. If he didn’t close his mouth soon, he’d end up drooling all over himself.

“He can’t find it,” I said. “I tried both our names, but he says it’s not there.”

“If you have the confirmation email, it would help,” the clerk said, never taking his eyes off Vicki.

“Sure.” Vicki whipped out her phone and brought up her email app. “I’ve got this, Krissy, if you want to keep an eye on Rita.” She shot a look at the woman in question, who was now running her hand along the back of a lobby couch, oohing and aahing, much to the annoyance of the people sitting on said couch.

“Thanks,” I said as I grabbed my suitcase. I don’t typically do well around a lot of people, and with an impatient line behind me and only three clerks working behind the desk, I was feeling especially out of my depth.

My things in hand, I backed away from the desk to give Vicki room.

“Oof!” A heavy thump and a clatter accompanied the sound as I collided into the person who’d been standing behind me.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, spinning. Already, a red ring of embarrassment was working its way up my neck to color my face. “I’m so sorry!”

The man staggered back a step and nearly bumped into the woman behind him. He was tall, with dark hair combed back from a rather attractive face. I fully expected him to yell at me, but instead, he broke into a wide, chagrined smile.

“I’m sure it was my fault,” he said, voice tinged with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place. “Had my nose in my phone and was probably standing too close.”

There wasn’t a phone in his hand. After a quick glance around, I found it lying on the floor at my feet.

He bent down and picked it up before I could do so myself. He glanced at the screen briefly before shoving the phone into his pocket.

“Did I break it?” I asked as he righted his luggage, which had been the source of the thump that had accompanied his phone’s clatter on the hard tile.

“Not a scratch,” he said, patting his pocket. “Are you okay? You seem flustered.”

Flustered? Me? I brushed my hand through my hair and tried on a smile. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like after spending the last five hours in a car. “Just a little trouble with our reservations,” I said. “My friend is working it out.”

He glanced past me to Vicki before nodding. “Are you here for JavaCon?”

For some reason, my heart gave a little leap at the question. “We are.”

“Me too.” He reached out a hand. “Thomas Cole.”

I shook. His handshake was firm, yet surprisingly soft at the same time. “Krissy Hancock.”

“May I help who’s next?”

Thomas gathered his luggage. “That’s me,” he said. “I hope to see you around, Krissy.”

“You too, Thomas.”

I watched as he sauntered up to the counter to check in. I had to admit, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sight, considering the tight jeans he was wearing.

Not that I was looking, mind you.

Okay, maybe I was a little, but it wasn’t like I was in the market for a new boyfriend. I hadn’t been single for that long, all things considered. I needed a mental break from all the distractions relationships caused. This trip was supposed to be all business, and darn it, I was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“You could bounce a Ping-Pong ball off those cheeks,” Rita said into my ear.

I nearly leapt from my shoes as I spun on her. “Don’t do that!” I said. “And keep your voice down. He might hear.”

She was grinning, a mischievous gleam to her eye. “So what if he does? It’s not like you’re seeing anyone. Honestly, dear, it might be good for you to loosen up a bit. The way I hear it, you’ve been so tense lately, people are starting to talk.”

“Talk about what?” I asked.

The look on Rita’s face told me everything I needed to know. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how my sex life—or lack thereof—was anyone’s business.

Genuinely flustered, and a whole lot embarrassed, I fumbled for my phone. “Stay here and watch my bag,” I said. “I need to make a call.”

Rita nodded and turned back to admire Thomas’s backside some more.

She can have him, I thought as I walked across the room to the far corner, where it was quieter. As I said, I wasn’t in the market, and it wasn’t like there could be anything between us even if I was. As far as I knew, he lived halfway across the country from Pine Hills, the small town in Ohio where I lived. There was no way I was going to entertain thoughts of a long-distance relationship.

I dialed and put the phone to my ear. A woman with a gray beehive hairdo entered dragging five suitcases behind her as if they weighed nothing. Her fingernails were bright red, as was her lipstick. She wore large sunglasses that covered half of her face, which looked slightly swollen, as if she’d recently been stung or had gotten an injection of some kind. Her nose turned up at the tip, and deep lines framed her mouth, despite the puffiness of her face. She was even wearing a faux fur coat that went all the way to her red heels. All that was missing was a small dog tucked under her arm.

“Death by Coffee, this is Lena speaking.”

“Hi, Lena, it’s Krissy. I’m just calling to let you know we’ve made it all right. How are things back home?”

“Great,” she said. “We’ve been giving Mason a hard time, but it’s all in fun.”

Vicki’s husband, Mason, had offered to help out around Death by Coffee, our bookstore café, while we were gone. Our three other employees, Lena, Jeff, and Beth, could all handle themselves to varying degrees, so it wasn’t like he needed to help out, yet he’d insisted.

I hoped he knew what he was in for.

“There’ve been no issues since we left?”

“It’s been one whole day,” Lena said. “We’re fine.”

“I know, but . . .”

“We’ve got this, Ms. Hancock. Trust us.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I do,” I said. And I did. But this was the first time neither Vicki nor I would be in town in case something happened. “I needed to call for my peace of mind.”

“Totally get it. But you’ll only be gone for a couple of days. I promise we won’t burn the place down in your absence.”

“Ugh, don’t even joke about that. I’ll have night-mares.”

Lena laughed. “Go. Have fun. You deserve a break.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“And find us some awesome-tasting coffee while you’re at it.”

“I’ll try. Let me know if anything comes up.”

“Will do.”

I hung up, feeling only marginally better. I knew Lena and the others would be fine, yet I kept imagining the place caving in or flooding while both Vicki and I were gone.

But it wasn’t like we were off on a sunny beach vacation—though one of those did sound nice. Our trip to JavaCon was with the intent of discovering new coffees we could add to the menu at Death by Coffee. As soon as I saw it would have tastings, as well as a competition for the best brew, I knew I had to come.

Rita, on the other hand, was here to take in the sights. When she’d learned Vicki and I were coming, she’d practically begged to be included. I had no problem with it, and neither did Vicki, so here we all were.

I was about to head back to Rita when I caught a glimpse of a pair of new arrivals. The two men were walking with their heads nearly touching as they talked in hushed voices. One man appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties. The other was well into his fifties. As soon as they entered, the older man shook his head, frowned, and then nodded, which caused his companion to smile.

“I know what you’re doing!” The woman with the big hair I’d noted earlier strode over, waggling a finger at the two of them. “It’s not going to work, Charles.”

“It’s good to see you too, Winnie,” the younger man—Charles, I assumed—said.

“Don’t give me that.” Her hands found her hips and pressed into the tight red dress she was wearing under her now-unbuttoned coat. “You can’t buy your way into everything.”

“Now, Winnie . . .”

She spun on the older man. “I thought you had better morals than this, Carmine!”

“Morals are for people who lose,” Charles said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check in.” He nodded once to Carmine, winked at Winnie, and then headed for the line.

Carmine opened his mouth as if he was going to try to explain himself, but Winnie huffed and spun away without letting him get a word in. His shoulders slumped as he dragged his bags to the check-in line.

Drama already, I thought, wondering if they were there for the con or if they were here for the pediatrics convention happening downtown.

Then again, looking at Winnie, I seriously doubted she’d be able to handle kids, let alone the rigors of practicing medicine.

Putting the three out of my mind, I glanced toward the counter and noted that both Thomas and Vicki were no longer there. It took only a moment to spot Vicki, who was heading my way with Rita in tow.

“It’s all taken care of,” Vicki said when they joined me. “Took him a few tries, but he eventually found it.”

“So the registration was there?” I asked, taking my suitcase from Rita with a murmured “Thanks.”

“It was. He apologized at least five times for the delay and even offered to give us free Wi-Fi instead of making us pay for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. I was glad we could nix that charge from my card. The hotel charged fifteen dollars a day for Wi-Fi, which, considering the cost of a room, along with the cost of parking, seemed awfully expensive. Before long, hotels were going to start charging for towels as a way to nickel-and-dime their guests to death.

“We’re on the fifteenth floor,” Vicki said, handing me my keycard.

“The top floor!” Rita said, eyes glowing as if the prospect of riding an elevator all the way to the top was the most exciting thing she could imagine.

All I could think about was the long walk up and down the stairs if the elevators were to stop working. If that were to happen, I’d probably just crash in the lobby, because there was no way I was going to survive a hike like that.

“Let’s drop our stuff off in the room and then have a look around,” Vicki said. Her smile was mile-wide. “Isn’t this exciting.”

“It is,” I said, pushing all my worries aside. Death by Coffee would be there when we got back. So would my house. I was still worried about how my neighbors Jules and Lance, and their dog, Maestro, were faring with my cat, Misfit. He probably had them trapped in a corner, claws and fangs bared in warning.

No, that’s not right. He likely had them waiting on him hand and foot while he basked in the sunlight coming in through Jules’s kitchen window.

“I wonder what they have to eat in the hotel restaurant?” Rita said as we all gathered our things and made for the elevator. “I’m absolutely ravenous.”

Next to me, a woman scolded a sullen teenager. At the counter, an older man was yelling at one of the clerks, who bore it with a stiff smile.

The elevator doors slid open. I got on with Vicki and Rita, dragging my suitcase behind me. It was old, with a loose wheel, so it clattered on the hard floor loud enough to earn me a glare from a couple of other people.

Relax, I told myself, letting out a pent-up breath. I was in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, but this was supposed to be fun.

As the doors closed, I forced the tension out of my shoulders and allowed myself a smile.

I was in seventh heaven.

The entire convention center smelled of coffee. It was strong enough I felt as if I could just stand there breathing it in and get a caffeine high.

The convention didn’t officially start until tomorrow morning, but unofficially, it had already started. People milled about checking out the various stations set up along the hallways and in some of the rooms. None of the actual events had started, but small companies were already handing out samples and talking about their coffee to anyone who would stop to listen. There were even pastries being offered, including a small kiosk selling row upon row of delicious-smelling doughnuts. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up gaining ten pounds after the first day.

“Oh my,” Rita said as we started walking through the chaos. “There’s so much!”

“Yeah,” I said. I was feeling overwhelmed, yet fascinated at the same time. To some, coffee is coffee. They brew it, pour it into a mug, and that’s that. It doesn’t matter where it came from, what brand or blend it might be. As long as it gets the job done, that’s all they care about.

But here at JavaCon, the people knew there was far more to coffee than the jolt it could give you in the morning. There were so many brands with roasts that I’d never even heard of before, it boggled my mind. I imagined that if I were to go from station to station, tasting every sample offered, I’d find each and every one to have completely different flavors, and, quite possibly, even textures. Some would be bitter, others smooth. Some would be nutty, others would taste of vanilla or cinnamon.

I also had a feeling I’d love every second of it.

“Tomorrow is going to be crazy,” Vicki said. “Even after looking at all the events in preregistration, I didn’t realize how big it was going to be.”

“Me neither.” JavaCon was chock-full of stuff to do. If the event planner was anything to go by, all three of us could hit up different events every single hour and still not do everything. There were actual panels, how-to instructional classes, professionals talking about the quality of beans, and so on and so forth. While I didn’t plan on growing my own coffee beans or creating my own brand, there was still a lot I could learn. I planned to sit in on as many of the events as I could in the hope of learning something that would help make Death by Coffee even better.

“Where do we start?” Rita asked.

“I say we just roam,” Vicki said. “Check out what’s here and then go from there tomorrow when the thing officially kicks off.”

“We’re just browsing today,” I said. “Taking it all in.”

We passed by a room filled with people. Peeking in, I noticed signs in front of small stations, each manned by two or three people. Small cups sat on counters. As I watched, browsers would stop by and take a cup or two before wandering off again.

“What is it?” I asked, checking the digital sign on the door. Nothing had been added to it yet, other than a welcome message to all con goers.

“I think it’s a tasting room.” Vicki leaned her head in and breathed in the scents wafting out the door. “I wonder if it’s all small companies, or if some of the bigger ones are represented. There are quite a few brands I’ve been wanting to try but never had the chance.”

“Can you buy anything here?” I asked, checking for a checkout line near the door.

“Looks like they’re selling their own stuff.” Vicki nodded toward one of the stations, where a couple had just finished trying one of the coffees. After a brief conversation, they snatched up a bag that was sitting on the counter next to the samples. They added it to a quickly growing stack they were carrying.

“Why aren’t you here with your coffee?” Rita asked. “I bet it would bring in more business if you were to advertise outside Pine Hills more.”

I glanced at Vicki. “Could we?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think everyone here has their own brand. We don’t yet.”

“Maybe we could look into it,” I said, warming to the idea. “We could come up with something that people can’t get anywhere else. I don’t mean just a brand, but maybe a specialty coffee you can only get at Death by Coffee.”

“Like our own blend?” Vicki asked.

“Kind of.” I thought about it some more. I had to admit, the idea had some appeal. Perhaps, if it became popular enough, people would travel to Pine Hills just to try it. It would take a lot of work, and a whole lot of word of mouth, but even if it was something that became popular only in Pine Hills and the surrounding area, it would be worth the effort.

“We’d have to come up with something that really stands out,” Vicki said.

“What about the coffee you made for Cameron Little when he was in town?” I asked. The literary agent had loved it. “The really caffeinated stuff.”

Vicki nodded slowly. “It could work. We’d need to come up with a catchy name for it, though. It’d have to be something original, something that would make it stand out.”

“It could be a souped-up coffee for late-night workers or early risers.” I smiled. “Something that keeps the world moving.”

“It’s actually a really good idea,” Vicki said. “But how would we go about doing any of that?”

I spread my arms wide. “We’re in the perfect place to find out. We could try some different coffees, see what others are doing, and use them as a guide for us.” And if we could find someone who could teach us what kind of beans to use, or at least what brands would work best for what we wanted to do, then all the better.

Someone inside the room yelped. The man leapt back from the counter, dumping a small cup of coffee onto the floor. He fanned at his mouth, tongue hanging out, as if he hadn’t realized the coffee he was about to drink might be hot. Two older women rushed to his aid and helped clean up the mess.

“I think I’m going to head in there and talk to some people,” Vicki said. “Maybe I can pick some brains and see how we can get started on getting our own stuff out there.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rita said, fanning herself off. Sweat beaded her brow. “I think I see someone with some iced drinks in there. It’s awfully warm out here, isn’t it?”

It was warm, but I didn’t think it was too bad yet. With the press of people and the steam coming from some of the espre. . .