Death by Hot Apple Cider

Book 9: Bookstore Cafe Mystery

by Alex Erickson

Genres: Mystery; Ghost; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Krissy Hancock's bookstore-café in Pine Hills, Ohio, is teaming up with the local library for a seasonal celebration, but someone is spiking the refreshments—with fatal results . . .



With autumn in full swing and Thanksgiving on the way, Krissy's supplying cider and her staff is manning the apple-bobbing booth at a town event. But then a patron dunks his head in—and doesn't come back up.



It soon becomes clear that Krissy's brew wasn't to blame. But with her policeman boyfriend looking to make detective, she can't help being drawn into the investigation. The victim was notorious for harassing not only her own bookstore but the library and the school for promoting supposedly scandalous literature—before someone censored him permanently. Now, Krissy will have to check out a stack of suspects to find a killer who's rotten to the core . . .

Release date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

A deep rumble caused me to pause halfway across the trampled grass. A cacophony of sounds assaulted my ears—shouts, clanks, and bangs—but it was the ominous grumbling that had me worried that things were about to go south very quickly.

Nearly everyone in Pine Hills was at the local park, which was normally little more than a field with an underused walking trail and a couple of old soccer nets, but was now full of tents and activities. The first annual Thanksgiving celebration was in full swing. People were bustling from tent to tent, eating and playing games, all for a good cause. The hope was that by the end of the day, enough money would be earned through the events or donated by the wealthier of Pine Hills’ citizens, to make sure everyone in town would have something to eat on Thanksgiving Day.

That hope was now in danger.

A churning darkness could be seen on the horizon. The weather reports had the storm skirting by us, but I wasn’t so sure. The day had started out as a seasonally warm mid-fifties, but had quickly plunged into the lower forties. As those dark clouds neared, the temperature would only go lower.

“Come on, hold off for a few more hours,” I muttered, forcing myself to look away from the oncoming menace. Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away.

A lot of planning had gone into the event, which was being held a little over a week from Thanksgiving itself. The librarians, Cindy and Jimmy Carlton, were big backers of the festival, and had spent a lot of time going around to all the businesses for support. I, of course, chipped in, pulling my business, Death by Coffee, deep into the frenzy.

I was headed for a tent where I knew the sweets were being sold by the local candy shop owner, Jules Phan, when I saw something—a someone, in fact—that caused me to jerk to a halt once again. My heart leapt into my throat and pounded there, choking me up as I stared at the man talking to Jules.

Dark hair. Skin the color of creamer-rich coffee. Looks that could make any woman drop to her knees and weep.

Will Foster.

My ex.

He was with his family, who surrounded him like a cloud of friendliness. Everyone looked to be in good spirits, and I was glad for it, but a part of me was still sad. Will had left Pine Hills for a job, which in turn, meant he’d left me too. I didn’t fault him for it. Our relationship really wasn’t going anywhere at the time and it freed me up to turn my attentions to the local hunky police officer, Paul Dalton, but I couldn’t help the pang of loss when I saw Will laughing and smiling with a family that, in another alternate timeline, might have become my own.

While I did want to say hi, I couldn’t bring myself to do it now, not with his parents and sister there. So, instead, I veered off and headed for the tent where my main contribution to the festival waited.

Warm air blasted from a forced air heater as I stepped beneath the fluttering tent flap. The heat was almost too much with my jacket, but I kept it on since I wasn’t going to stay long. A counter stood in one corner. A sign hung from it proclaiming it to be provided by Death by Coffee. I approached it with a smile.

“How has business been?” I asked the two Death by Coffee employees, who were manning the counter.

“Ms. Hancock.” Jeff Braun bowed his head and averted his eyes at my approach. He’d worked for me for a long time now, yet still struggled to meet my eye whenever he spoke to me.

“Please, call me Krissy.” It would do no good. No matter how many times I told him, he always insisted on calling me Ms. Hancock or ma’am.

“We’ve been busy,” Lena Allison said, nudging Jeff with her elbow. She used a heavily ringed hand to push a lock of purple hair from her eyes. She’d been growing it out lately, and it was in that in-between stage where it would be an annoyance before it became manageable. “You’ve gotten a lot of compliments on the cider.”

“That’s good to hear. I was worried everyone would expect us to serve coffee.”

“There have been some requests, of course, but after they tried a sample of the cider, all complaints dried right up.”

I tried not to let the compliment affect me, but I couldn’t help but grin. The hot apple cider recipe was my late mother’s own. It seemed the perfect drink for a day that was turning chilly.

“I’ll take one of those ciders.” Paul Dalton slid an arm around me, causing me to jump. His smug grin told me he’d done it on purpose.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?” I asked, playfully shoving him away.

“I am,” he said. “But nothing says I can’t enjoy myself while doing it.”

Paul was in full uniform, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the view. His sandy-brown hair was tucked under a wide-brimmed police hat, which was oddly fetching. His uniform fit him rather snugly, which, of course, drew the eye right to his . . . well, assets. When he turned his deep blue eyes and dimples on me, a flash of warmth shot through me that had me near sweating.

Lena was all smiles as she handed Paul a hot cider. He took a tentative sip before taking a much larger gulp.

“This is pretty good,” he said.

“You make it sound like you weren’t sure it would be.”

He shrugged, dimples deepening even more. “Not a big fan of apple drinks. This might make me change my mind about that.”

“Rita was by a few minutes ago,” Lena said, leaning her arms on the counter. “She was looking for you.”

Rita Jablonski was a friend of mine, and was also the biggest gossip in all of Pine Hills. She had to be thrilled with an event like this because it would allow her to people watch to her heart’s content. She’d likely come across some new, juicy piece of gossip she couldn’t wait to share with me.

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” I said. “Do you need me to stick around and help out?” There weren’t many people in the tent now, but if the rain were to hit, it could get busy very quickly.

Lena glanced at Jeff, who shrugged. “I think we’ll be okay. Beth said she’d be back in an hour, and Vicki and Mason are around here somewhere. Go and have fun.” She looked at Paul, and then shot me a sly wink.

A part of me felt guilty for leaving Jeff and Lena to work the booth alone, but it wasn’t like there was much to do until the rain did hit. The cider was kept warm—not scalding hot for safety reasons—and looked well stocked for now. I’d need to check back in an hour or so to see if I needed to throw together a fresh batch. If the rain didn’t strike first, that was.

“Text me if you need me,” I said, patting my back pocket to make sure my phone was still where it should be. “I won’t be far.”

Paul was waiting a few steps away, sipping his cider. I stepped over one of the many taped-down power cords and joined him.

“Having fun?” I asked him.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I had to break up one argument over by the games tent, but otherwise, everyone is behaving themselves.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to pull this thing off,” I said, pausing to watch a man approach the cider booth and deposit a twenty into the donations jar. “We might be able to not just put food on some tables, but stock the food bank for a week afterward.”

“You’re doing a good thing,” Paul said.

“The town is.”

We stood silent as we took in our surroundings. Beneath the scent of cider, I could smell hot dogs and fried food and cotton candy. Kids were shouting and running around, often with semi-harried parents yelling at them to be careful. There was a cheer over by the games tent where multiple carnival games were taking place. Someone must have won one of the bigger prizes.

My smile faded as my gaze traveled past the tents and smiling crowds to the horizon. The dark clouds appeared to be a whole lot closer.

Paul saw where I was looking and patted my arm. “It’ll hold off.”

“It better.”

“Come on.” Paul started to reach for my hand, but seemed to realize he was still on duty and it wouldn’t look professional, because he pulled it back before he could take hold. “Let’s walk.”

With one quick glance back toward Lena and Jeff to make sure they were okay, I followed after Paul. We stepped out from beneath the tent, into sunlight that was being filtered by far too many clouds for my liking. I swear the temperature had dropped another ten degrees since I’d entered the tent, though it was likely a result of standing next to the heater for so long.

“I saw Will,” Paul said. His words were spoken as leisurely as his gait, which was slow and relaxed, but I could hear an underlying current beneath it. I couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or jealousy.

“I did too.” I refused to look toward the candy tent, just in case Will was still there.

“Did you talk to him?”

“No.” I left it at that.

“He seems to be doing good.”

“I’m glad.” And I was. He might have left me for a job, but we’d parted on good terms. Sure, I still thought about him every now and again. And, yeah, sometimes I got a little melancholy. But I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything.

“Robert’s around here somewhere too.”

Robert Dunhill. Another of my exes. They seemed to be everywhere these days. “I haven’t seen him. Was he with Trisha?”

“He was. They seemed to be getting along.”

I wondered if Trisha—his girlfriend—had finally accepted his marriage proposal from months ago. Her “maybe” had sent Robert on a downward spiral of self-pity, so perhaps them being here together meant she’d finally said “yes.”

I shot a glance at Paul, wondering why he was bringing up all my exes. It made me think of his own ex, Shannon, and I feared he was starting to regret breaking up with her. I didn’t know the details on what happened between them, why they broke up, or if it was on good or bad terms, only that Shannon wasn’t happy about the arrangement.

Is she trying to win him back? The thought caused every protective instinct of mine to kick in. If she tried, I wasn’t going to go down quietly.

I didn’t realize it until I heard the “Lordy Lou, that’s cold!” coming from ahead that we were headed for the dunking tent. Just hearing Rita’s voice brought the smile back to my face and pushed any and all thoughts about ex-boyfriends and girlfriends from my mind.

We entered the tent to find Rita toweling a weak, cold version of my apple cider from her face with one hand. An apple with a bite mark in it was in her other. She’d lost some weight in the last few months, and it looked good on her, but she was still what many considered to be on the plump side. I thought she looked fantastic.

“Congratulations,” Cindy Carlton said. The short, round librarian held out a book to Rita, who took it after handing over her towel to Cindy’s husband, Jimmy. The muscular librarian could easily have been an army instructor, but instead, he had chosen sweater vests and books over screaming at recruits.

“This your idea?” Paul asked, motioning toward the tub filled with cider and apples.

“No, the Carltons came up with it. I just supplied the cider and some of the books.”

A woman handed Cindy a twenty and then lowered herself onto the pillows in front of the tub. She took a deep breath and then dove in after an apple. She fished around for a good ten seconds before jerking her head up with a fling of wet hair, apple caught triumphantly between her teeth. A smattering of applause followed.

“The customers donate whatever they want for a chance to go after an apple,” I said. “The books are given out as prizes in the hopes that a few of the victors would take to reading, or at least, give the books to their kids.” I was glad to note quite a few teens were queued up in line.

“Sounds like a good cause.”

“It is,” I said. “A portion of the money earned here goes to the library for a reading program Jimmy hopes to set up. The rest is earmarked for the food fund.”

We watched as Cindy handed out a book to the victorious woman and the next person stepped up to try their hand at the tank. The kid was no more than thirteen, and when he dunked his head, he went all in with a splash.

“There you are!” Rita noticed me for the first time. She walked over, holding her book to her breast. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d skipped the whole affair.”

“Nope, I’m here,” I said. Behind me, a grumble rolled over the field. I prayed someone had set up a bowling alley next door because otherwise, the thunder was getting a little too close for comfort.

“Well, you won’t believe what I have to tell you, dear.” Her eyes flickered to Paul. “But it can wait. There’s someone waiting on me.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Are Georgina and Andi around?” They were Rita’s best friends and gossip buddies.

“I’m sure they are,” Rita said with a strange smile that caused my eyebrows to rise. Did Rita have a date? It would be the first one I’d ever seen her go on, if so.

“Don’t let us keep you,” Paul said. “Congrats on your book.”

Rita patted the back of the book, which turned out to be a lighthearted mystery I’d read last month and donated to the cause. “I plan on reading the whole thing tonight.” A gleam came into her eye then. “If I’m not too busy, that is.” And then she walked off with a decided bounce in her step.

Both Paul and I watched her go with the same disbelieving expressions on our faces.

“I think she’s found someone,” I said, still unable to believe it. Rita was one of those people you couldn’t help but think of as permanently single. The idea of her dating anyone was just . . . odd.

“I’m glad for her.” Paul turned back to me. “The department is getting a detective.”

The abrupt shift in topics threw me off and I sputtered a moment before I managed, “What happened? Did someone die?”

Paul laughed. “No, nothing happened. But there’s been more crime around Pine Hills over the last few years than there used to be.” Which some people blamed on me, if you could believe it. “The town is growing and the police force needs to grow with it.”

“Is this detective from out of town?” I wondered how that would affect me, considering how often I ended up dealing with the local police.

“Actually, there isn’t a detective yet.” Paul’s cheeks reddened. “I’m applying for the position.”

“Really? That’s great!” And since Paul’s mom was the police chief, I found it likely he’d get the job.

“I haven’t earned it yet,” he said. “There’s a lot of studying and work ahead. And I’m not the only one to apply, so there’s going to be some competition.”

“You’ll get it, easy.”

“We’ll see.” Though I could tell he was thrilled about the prospects. “John and Becca are good officers.”

“Buchannan is going for the job?” I asked. John Buchannan and I rarely saw eye to eye, and with my penchant for getting myself stuck in the middle of murder investigations, I doubted it would get any better if he was a detective on the case, not just a responding officer.

“He is. And really, I think he’d do a good job. Becca too.”

Becca Garrison was another officer on the force who had an up-and-down relationship with me. It seemed like they all did. Other than Paul, of course.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

Paul chuckled. “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. I’m not sure your help will benefit my case.”

I was about to protest by pointing out how many murders I’d helped solve when a loud “Fine!” pierced the air.

A man stood at the front of the apple-bobbing line, glaring like someone had just called him cheap. He fished into his front pocket and came away with a crumpled one-dollar bill. He shoved it into Cindy’s hand like it offended him.

“That good enough for you?”

Cindy scowled as she dropped the bill into the donations bin. One look at the guy and I knew exactly why there was so much friction.

“Oh, no,” I muttered to myself, but did so a little too loudly because Paul noticed.

“What is it?”

I kept my voice low. “This could be trouble.”

Paul went into cop mode, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at the man as he stepped up to the tub. “Who is he?” he asked.

“I don’t know his name,” I admitted. “And I don’t know him personally, but I do know he’s been causing some trouble at the library and at Death by Coffee.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Complaints,” I said. “I don’t know all the details, just that he’s been demanding we stop carrying certain types of books. He says they’re offensive and they’re the cause of pretty much every bad thing to happen around town. We’ve ignored him, and honestly, I haven’t had to deal with him at all. I only know him by sight.”

“I see.” Paul crossed his arms and watched as the man lowered his head to the tub, but he didn’t dunk right away. He swayed there a moment, as if judging the best angle, before he finally lowered his face into the cider. “A drinker?” Paul asked, apparently noting how the man had swayed.

I shrugged. I had no idea. “He’s a nuisance, but it’s to be expected. There are always people like that around. They complain, but can’t really do anything.” For which I was grateful. If I was forced to stop carrying romance books and paranormal teen novels, all because of one man’s prejudices, Death by Coffee would lose a big part of our business.

Seconds passed. A few bubbles rose from the tub, then vanished.

“Hey, Sidney, you’re supposed to grab an apple, not take a nap.” A man’s voice, but I was too busy staring at the way the man—Sidney, apparently—had gone limp, hands dangling at the side of the tub, rather than gripping it like everyone else did.

The tent fell silent. Then, beside me, Paul cursed, and rushed forward. He jerked Sidney from the tank and laid him onto his back. “Is there a doctor here?” he shouted, even as he pressed his fingers to Sidney’s neck.

“I am.” To my surprise, a doctor I knew stepped forward. Darrin . . . It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I didn’t even know Darrin’s last name, only that he was a doctor at the office where Will Foster used to work.

Paul moved aside to let Darrin work. Everyone in the tent, including me, stood with bated breath as he performed CPR. Seconds passed, then minutes.

Finally, Darrin leaned back, a defeated slump to his shoulders. When he looked up, his eyes found mine, as if he’d specifically sought me out.

With a heaviness that had my heart sinking straight to my feet, he said, “He’s dead.”

A crack of thunder accompanied the proclamation and the skies opened up, putting a decidedly final end to not just Sidney’s life, but to the Thanksgiving festival.

Rain pattered against the tent as Darrin worked over Sidney. Paul hovered over him, face impassive, though his shoulders were tense and his fists were bunched. A crowd had gathered, packing the tent, thanks to the skies opening up. They huddled together with an excited chatter.

“Do you think it was a heart attack?”

“How does someone drown while bobbing for apples?”

“I heard a boom. Was he shot?”

“Poison.”

The word hung in the air, and cut all other speculation short. It took me a moment to realize Darrin was the one who’d said it.

“He was poisoned?” Paul asked.

Darrin accepted a sheet handed to him by Cindy and draped it over Sidney’s face. Someone actually groaned, as if disappointed.

“I can’t be sure until tests are run, but . . .” He frowned as he noticed the crowd hanging on his every word.

Paul nodded and then ran a hand over his face before taking Darrin by the arm and leading him away so they could talk privately. The only uncrowded space put them at tent’s edge, with rain sleeting in against their legs.

The once-excited chatter turned panicked as soon as they walked away. Half-eaten apples were tossed to the ground, and one woman started weeping openly. She kept repeating, “I don’t want to die!” over and over.

Poison. Fear clutched at my chest. Had I done something wrong? Those were my apples and my apple cider. And then, remembering someone else who’d taken a bite of one of the apples, I joined in with the panic. Rita!

I turned, thinking to go in search of her, but one look at the crowd at my back and the rain falling outside, kept me from doing it. When I’d seen her, she’d seemed fine. The apple-bobbing had been going on throughout the day and no one else had fallen ill, so I was guessing they weren’t the cause.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. There was no sense in panicking and running all over the park when I didn’t actually know what had happened. A man was dead, yes, but that didn’t mean it had anything to do with my apples or apple cider. Darrin could have been mistaken.

Paul returned a moment later, looking grim. He’d called in the other cops who’d been prowling the festival and they were now in the process of securing the scene. “All right, everyone,” Paul said, raising his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. “There’s nothing to worry about here. I’m going to talk with each of you and then send you on your way.”

This time, the groan went around the tent, and I’m pretty sure a few people took the opportunity to slip out into the rain while it was still too packed to notice. Or stop them.

“Hang tight. This will be over soon.” Paul’s eyes found mine. I’d seen that loo. . .