Death by Java

Book 14: Bookstore Cafe Mystery

by Alex Erickson

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Krissy Hancock is a little nervous leaving her bookstore-café in Pine Hills, Ohio, in someone else’s hands while she visits family in California. But when a killer strikes during her week out west, it’s a good thing she packed her sleuthing skills . . .

When she arrives in her hometown, the owner of Death by Coffee is startled to see a store called Death by Java. She soon realizes the name belongs to a copycat business run by her mean-girl high school rival, Valerie. It may not be grounds for a lawsuit—but when they stop in and witness a bitter argument with a health inspector, the whole scene leaves a bad taste in Krissy’s mouth. Valerie has even imitated Death by Coffee’s resident feline—except this one is a hissing stray who’s more likely to terrorize customers than delight them.

Despite her irritation, Krissy finds herself trying to help the hapless Valerie. But her old classmate needs a different kind of help when the health inspector is found dead on the premises. As Krissy’s boyfriend cozies up to local law enforcement, she collects a carafe of clues, drip by drip . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Warm sunlight streamed in through the car’s window, and I basked in a glow that was both familiar, and yet, strangely foreign. I closed my eyes against it, letting the busy world vanish as I leaned against the glass in the back seat. Yes, I knew the sun was the same one that gave light to Pine Hills, Ohio, where I lived, yet it felt somehow more special here in Redwood Village, California, where I’d grown up.

A buzz of conversation filled the car, yet I’d tuned it out ever since I’d climbed in, just wanting to enjoy a few moments of quiet now that I was no longer trapped on a plane. The stress of the last few days was slowly bleeding away, though I knew the peace would be short-lived. Concerns about fluctuating power at my bookstore café, Death by Coffee, along with the fact that I was going to be staying with my dad and his girlfriend in my childhood home with my boyfriend, Paul Dalton, at my side would soon have my anxiety skyrocketing.

But right then … peace.

“What do you think, Krissy?”

“Hmm?” I reluctantly opened my eyes. Paul was regarding me from where he sat buckled in, deep blue eyes sparkling in the sun.

“Were you asleep?” he asked.

“No.” I stifled a yawn. “Just relaxing.”

“She’ll sleep like the dead for about eight hours once we’re at the house,” my dad, James Hancock, said from the passenger’s seat up front. I couldn’t see his eyes to know if they were sparkling, but his bald head sure was.

Next to him, his girlfriend, Laura Dresden, nodded. I couldn’t see her face since I was sitting directly behind her, but I could feel her grin. “The last time she was here, we were afraid she might sleep through the entire weekend.”

“Ha-ha.” I stuck out my tongue, though nobody could see it. “I’m not that bad. Travel wears me out.”

Paul took my hand and squeezed. There was a nervousness in his smile. While he knew Dad and Laura from their visits to Pine Hills, this was the first time he’d traveled with me to my hometown. It was a part of my life he’d only heard stories about.

Redwood Village—simply called the Village by those of us who lived there—seemed massive compared to a small town like Pine Hills, but it was still just a cozy little town, sitting just outside of the much bigger Los Angeles. In the years I’d been gone, the Village had grown by leaps and bounds, filling up with small businesses and more and more housing developments so that I was beginning to worry they’d have to change the name to something that reflected the growth. Redwood City just didn’t have the same ring to it.

My phone buzzed in my lap. I glanced at the screen, then turned it back over again without answering.

“Rita?” Paul asked.

I nodded. “She wants me to call her as soon as I get to the house.”

“That’s, what now? Twelve texts?”

“Since we’ve arrived.” Another ten had awaited me when we’d landed. To say Rita Jablonski wasn’t happy about me leaving her behind was an understatement. She was a self-proclaimed James Hancock number-one fan, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the truth. Dad wrote mystery and thriller novels for a living, and Rita had read every last one of them at least five times. She’d wanted to come along so she could pick Dad’s brain about his latest book, but I’d refused. These next two weeks were for me, Paul, Dad, and Laura. I’d let nothing else get in the way of that.

Anxiety tried to bubble up, and I squeezed my phone to suppress it. Thinking of Rita made me think of Death by Coffee and the problems we’d been having with the electricity in the building. It had started only a few days ago, and nothing we did seemed to help. I desperately wanted to call my co-owner and best friend, Vicki Lawyer, to check in, but she’d made me promise that I’d enjoy my vacation and would let her handle it.

I gave it another hour, maybe two, before I broke down and called.

“We’re supposed to have great weather,” Dad said. “We should plan on hitting the beach at least a couple of times over the next two weeks to take advantage of it.” He craned around the best he could to see Paul, who was sitting directly behind him. “You ever been to an ocean beach before?”

Paul shook his head. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“You’re going to love it.” Dad turned back in his seat with a groan and a popping of his back. “I was also thinking we could check out some of the sites around the Village. We have an interesting history. Some people think it’s called Redwood Village because of the redwood tree, but as you can see, there are no redwoods here. It’s actually a flower …”

I let Dad’s voice fade as I turned my attention back out my window. We’d just entered the downtown portion of the Village. Traffic wasn’t too bad at this time of day, but I knew it could get hectic, especially around shift changes. There was a ton of foot traffic along wide, well-maintained sidewalks, which were decorated with various flowers, including redwood sorrels when they were in season. Even with so many people packing the walkways, the Village held that cozy vibe I’d always loved.

A contented smile started to spread across my face, but it froze when my gaze landed on a business I’d only heard about up until that very moment.

The building was situated on a popular street on a busy corner, making it a prime location for foot traffic. A sign above the door featured a cup of coffee with steam spilling from it, spelling out the words Death by Java. A sprinkling of beans lay around the base, next to a pair of stacked books.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. I’d known my high school bully, Valerie Kemp, was opening a bookstore café, and that she was using my own shop as inspiration, but seeing it in person was something else.

I couldn’t see inside the café, but I did note that most people walked past it without paying it much more than a glance. Curiosity warred with annoyance. I desperately wanted to know what it looked like inside to see if Valerie had copied the exact layout of Death by Coffee, or if she’d come up with something original. Death by Java was bigger than my own place, but it was also in a bigger town, so the increased size was understandable.

“Do you want to go in, Buttercup?” Dad asked, using the pet name he’d had for me since I was little.

I bit my lip. Did I? If Valerie was there, she’d make a scene. I just knew she would proudly explain how her place was so much better than mine, all while acting like she was paying me compliments.

“Let’s stop,” Paul said, squeezing my hand. “It’s better to get it over with now than to let it eat at you.”

I hated to admit it, but he was right. If I didn’t stop in and have a look, I’d obsess over it until I did, which would ruin the trip for everyone. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

It took Laura five minutes to find us a place to park. Another two just to squeeze us into the space between two much larger vehicles. On-street parking could be bad in Pine Hills, but here in the Village, it was always a nightmare.

We climbed out of the car with my entire body groaning at the movement. After a good stretch, Paul took my hand, gave me a reassuring smile, and then the four of us walked the short distance to Death by Java.

“You ready for this?” Dad asked, hand on the door.

“No. But let’s do it anyway.”

He gave me a reassuring smile, then he opened the door.

“You know exactly what you’re doing!”

The shout met us the moment we were inside. Valerie Kemp, with her spritzed, bottle-blond hair, her long, shapely legs, and insultingly trim body, was standing, her hands—manicured nails and all—pressed firmly to her hips as she faced off against a short man in a ball cap whose back was to us. She was wearing heels and a too-tight blue dress that left little to the imagination. She looked like she was ready to head out for a night on the town.

“I’m going to hit the restroom,” Dad said, eyeing the confrontation with mild interest. “My bladder isn’t what it used to be.”

“I think I’ll join you,” Paul said. “That was a long flight, and I feel like I’m going to float away.”

“Count me in.” Laura turned to me. “You want to come along and scope out the stalls?”

“No,” I said, still watching as Valerie and the guy in the hat continued to argue. “I’m okay.”

Dad and Laura headed toward the back, where the restrooms were marked with large letters declaring one for men and the other for women, and below each, in smaller, yet readable print, NO EXCEPTIONS.

Paul hesitated.

“Go,” I told him. “I’ll be fine. I’d rather talk to Valerie without you all watching over my shoulder anyway.”

Another beat, and then he leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek before half-waddling to the restroom.

“I’m only doing my job,” the man in the ball cap said. He was holding a tablet with one of those rubberized cases on it that looked as if it had been dropped numerous times. “If you would just—”

“I can’t believe this!” Valerie spun, took two angry steps away, then stormed right back over, heels clacking on the hard floor. “You’re trying to run me out of business. You’re jealous of my success!”

“Success” might have been a strong word, I thought, looking around. The tables were cleanish, as was the floor. The trash bins weren’t quite overflowing, but I think that had to do with a decided lack of customers more than them having been emptied recently. There were no stairs leading to the bookstore portion of the bookstore café like there were at Death by Coffee, but the design was similar. The bookshelves were nice, but the books themselves appeared to have been shoved haphazardly into place with no rhyme or reason. Some were practically hanging off the shelves, as if someone had tossed them back without bothering to stand them upright.

Casually, hoping not to be noticed, I slinked around the side so I could get a look at the menu board behind the counter. A pair of young women, both dressed in pink dresses with white bows at the waist, stood watching the exchange between Valerie and the man. One was snapping and popping her gum in interest, while the other appeared bored, as if this was something that happened on a daily basis.

“Jealous? Have you looked at this place?” the man said. “I’m being generous if anything!”

“Generous! I ought to—”

“Val.” Another man stepped forward and put a meaty hand on Valerie’s wrist, stopping her from saying whatever it was she’d had to say. He was tall and muscular, with that bronzed look about him that spoke of a lot of time spent under the sun.

“Now, listen here, Mickey—”

“No, you listen, you pipsqueak,” the man, Mickey, said. He flexed biceps that were clearly gym-made and rolled his head, causing his neck to crack and pop. “I’ve had just about enough of you coming in here and harassing my Val.”

My Val? I kept my gaze glued to the menu board, though I had yet to read it. Last I’d heard, Valerie was dating a guy named Hugh.

“I’m not harassing anyone!” the man with the tablet said. “I’m telling you, the condition of the—”

“You’d better be more concerned about your condition, egghead.” Mickey advanced a step.

The man in the cap backed up a step, toward the door. “You can’t keep me out of here like this. I have a right to inspect the machines.”

“You have a right to leave.” Mickey grinned, clearly thinking himself a genius for his high school–quality comebacks.

The man looked from Mickey to Valerie, then decided to cut his losses as he turned and walked out of Death by Java. I half-expected Mickey to shout, “And stay out!” after him, but all he did was clap his hands together as if knocking away dust before turning and walking back behind the counter and through a door, into the back room.

Which left me as the only other person, other than Valerie and her employees, in the dining area.

“Krissy Hancock?” Valerie said, gaze zeroing in on me. “Is that really you?”

A denial was on my lips, but instead, I smiled. “It is. Hi, Valerie.”

Heels clacking, Valerie crossed the distance between us and surprised me by giving me a hug that consisted of all arms and a lot of air between us.

“It’s good to see you!” she said before turning to her two employees. “Dee. Nadia. This is Krissy. She’s the one with that basic little coffee shop I told you about.”

Both Dee and Nadia gave me a tight smile before going back to staring vacantly around the room.

I somehow kept my own smile in place, despite the jab at Death by Coffee. With Valerie, that sort of thing was expected. She’d never been good at complimenting anyone, other than herself. As a kid, she was the poster child for the snooty, popular girl, who only cared about herself, and she’d apparently never grown out of it.

“Who was that?” I asked, nodding toward the exit.

“Him?” Valerie made a face. “Lyle Carrigan. He’s no one. Just some health inspector who’s been doing his best to make my life miserable for the last month or so.”

A health inspector. Quite suddenly, I wasn’t too keen on buying a coffee, despite needing a jolt of caffeine after my long flight.

“What brings you to California?” Valerie asked, taking a step back to look me up and down. “You don’t look like you’re here for anything too special, not dressed like that. Did you hear about us all the way back in Michigan?”

“Ohio,” I corrected. “Pine Hills.”

Valerie waved a dismissive hand in front of her face. “Whatever. Same difference.”

Her tone was really rubbing me the wrong way, which was why I let my annoyance get the better of me when I said, “It seems dead in here. Is it always like this?”

I expected Valerie to come off with some smart remark about how her place was so much better than mine, but she surprised me by saying, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve done everything right. I looked at what you did and improved on it in every way, yet I can’t seem to draw in customers!”

Perhaps it has something to do with your attitude. My lips puckered, ready to deliver the verbal jab, but thankfully, Dad, Laura, and Paul chose that moment to return, keeping me from saying it.

“I feel better,” Dad said, joining us. “Valerie. It’s good to see you.”

She gave him one of those brief, not-quite-a-smile expressions that was just this side of impolite.

“Are you getting anything?” Paul asked as he took my hand. “I could go for a coffee.”

Valerie’s gaze latched on to our hands and, oddly, she stiffened. “You saw Mickey, right? He and I just recently started dating. He’s a dear. He helps out around the place quite a bit. Aaron and Hugh stop in when they can, too. I can’t seem to keep them away.” A tittering laugh followed.

Aaron was her ex-husband, and as I mentioned before, Hugh was her ex, so I found it hard to believe either man would come around. Then again, it wasn’t like Valerie chose boyfriends based on intelligence, so who knew?

“That’s nice,” I said, tugging on Paul’s hand as I eased toward the door. “We really should get going. It was nice to see you, Valerie.”

Panic flashed across Valerie’s face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you stopped in again soon. Perhaps you could give me some pointers on how you manage to lure people into your place? I tried to advertise, gave out samples, but it didn’t help. I’m not sure how people are overlooking us, and maybe you’d be able to, I don’t know, help.”

I glanced around at the café, at the emptiness of the place, and felt a brief flare of guilt and compassion. Valerie and I had never gotten along, but I wasn’t one to hold a grudge. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “But the next couple of weeks are for family. If I get a chance, I’ll—”

“Thank you!” Valerie grabbed my free hand and squeezed. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m forced to close because people around here don’t know a good thing when they see it.”

I extracted my hand from Valerie’s grip, fought down a massive eye roll. “Good luck. I’ll see you around, Valerie.”

I led the way out the door. Relief flooded me as I was back out under the sun and away from Valerie’s desperation. I felt bad for her, I really did. But I had a feeling the problems with her bookstore café had a lot more to do with how she treated her customers than a problem with visibility or their awareness of Death by Java’s existence.

“That was fun,” Dad said as the door closed behind us.

“Shush, you.” Laura nudged him with her elbow, though she was smiling as she did.

“Get out! Now!”

I jumped at the shout coming from next door. A bald man with a sweaty scalp, wearing a mustard-stained apron, was physically shoving Lyle the health inspector out the door of a place called Tito’s Deli. A name tag hanging from the apron declared the bald man to be Tito himself.

“I have a right to—”

“I don’t have time for you or your rights,” Tito said with a final shove. “Come back when I’m not so busy.” A pause. “And when you’re not being paid to harass hardworking folk!”

With that, he spun and slammed the door in Lyle’s face.

The health inspector stood there a long moment, as if debating on whether he should go back in, before he tapped something into his tablet. That done, he walked quickly away, muttering to himself.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Dad nodded. “Agreed.”

I leaned in close to Paul. “I promise the Village isn’t like this all of the time.”

He laughed. “It’s kind of charming.”

That was one word for it, I supposed.

“If you want to see charming, there’s this park on the south end of town you just have to experience,” Dad said as we started back to the car. “Krissy used to go there all the time and …”

I groaned inwardly, but let him rattle on. I had a feeling that by the end of this trip, Paul was going to know everything about my childhood, whether I wanted him to or not.

“So…” Paul made a slow circuit around the room. “This is where you grew up, huh?”

I flopped onto the bed, arms spread. The mattress was slightly too cushy, causing me to sink down farther into it than I liked. It wasn’t my childhood bed, yet a contented groan escaped my lips, and I considered just closing my eyes and drifting off for a well-deserved nap. Though, as late as it was, the nap would likely end up turning into a nightlong sleep, but right then, I was okay with that.

“It seems kind of bland for you,” he went on. “Are you sure this was your bedroom as a kid?”

I cracked open an eye to find Paul examining a plain brown dresser with a white doily atop it. “Yes, this was my room. Still is, I suppose. But if you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown up.”

The room was admittedly lacking in the decorations department. When I’d moved out for college, Dad had kept the room as I’d left it. But once I’d made the trek to Pine Hills to open Death by Coffee with Vicki, he’d begun the process of turning it into a guest room. I’d taken most of my things with me, and those that I’d left behind were likely stored away in a box somewhere. Knowing Dad, he wouldn’t have thrown anything out.

“It’s nice,” Paul said. “My childhood bedroom was the size of a shoebox. I could roll from my bed, right out the door.” He said it fondly, with a wistful smile. “You have enough room in here for a whole gaggle of teenage girls.”

“Yeah, well, the gaggle consisted of Vicki and only a couple of others.” I wondered where those other high school friends might be, how their lives were going. As far as I knew, they were still living in the Village, though I couldn’t be sure. I’d gone to the same college as Vicki, so we’d kept in touch, but my other friends had chosen different paths. Back then, without the fancy cell phones and social media we had today, it wasn’t as easy to keep in contact, so we’d slowly drifted apart.

“I imagine Valerie wasn’t one of those friends.”

I snorted, closed my eye again. “Hardly. I think she was in the house once. Maybe twice. We were partnered in my high school Spanish class and had to make chili for some silly competition. She showed up and watched me do all the work, criticizing me all the while.”

“Did you win?”

“No. The winning chili wasn’t edible. They used the hottest peppers they could find, which meant it got all the votes because it made Mr. Salazar sick.”

“Figures.” He chuckled, then sobered. “So, what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

I patted the bed without looking at him. “It’s big enough to share.”

A beat. “You don’t think I should sleep on the floor? Or in another room, perhaps? I don’t mind the couch.”

“Dad wouldn’t hear of it. If you don’t want to sleep beside me …”

“Oh no, I do. It’s just …”

“I get it. It’s weird for me too.” Though I was old enough that it shouldn’t have been. It’s what I got for never having a real boyfriend while living here. It made something as simple as sleeping next to someone a new experience, one I was strangely nervous about.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Paul asked. “I think I need to splash some water on my face.”

“First door on your right,” I said, making a vague gesture in that direction before propping up and looking at him. “Are you okay? This isn’t too much for y. . .