Death by Peppermint Cappuccino

Book 12: Bookstore Cafe Mystery

by Alex Erickson

Genres: Mystery; Cozy Mystery; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

A smart, well-crafted mystery set in a charming small-town Ohio, where bookstore-cafe owner Krissy Hancock has a sideline in sleuthing—just right for fans of Leslie Meier, Cleo Coyle, and Carolyn Hart.



Christmas has come to Pine Hills, and Krissy's blooming relationship with Officer Paul Dalton has her in an especially festive mood. The café's new seasonal signature drink is a hit too. But not everyone shares the same holiday spirit. There are some loud complaints about businesses profiting off the season and losing focus on what Christmas is really about. And as if on cue, a shop owner who'd been price-gouging his customers is found dead after receiving a mysterious gift . . .



Krissy doesn't want to let the troubling events put a damper on the holiday, especially with her father and his girlfriend in town. But when other shop owners are targeted, she has no choice. She needs to wrap up this case quickly before one of her friends—or even Krissy herself—ends up on a Grinchy killer's deadly gift list . . .

Release date: September 26, 2023

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

A mass of colored bulbs and tangled wires sat at the bottom of the battered cardboard box. There appeared to be no beginning, no end. Just a bundle that would forever remain tucked away in the back of the church’s closet, never to be used again.

I closed the tattered flaps and shoved the box away.

“Are the lights no good?” Rita Jablonski called over her shoulder. She was standing on her tiptoes atop a step stool to hang garland in the corner of the church. The room was coming together, but without lights, it wouldn’t have the same effect.

“No. I’ll buy some more in a little while and get them hung up before the party.” I didn’t know if that mass of Christmas lights worked or not, but there was no way Krissy Hancock was going to spend the rest of her evening untangling them to find out. I had more important things to worry about.

I snuck a glance toward the stairs, but no one was walking up them yet. A peek at the clock told me that the person I was waiting on was five minutes late. A gnawing worry rested in the vicinity of my gut, along with a healthy dose of excitement. Five minutes was nothing, not when planes were involved.

“Are you expecting someone?” Rita climbed down from the stool. She was a short, somewhat stout woman with a penchant for noticing everything. “You’ve been watching the door like a hawk for at least an hour now.”

“No.” A lie, but it was for a good reason. “I thought I heard something.”

“Mmhmm.” Rita didn’t look as if she believed me, but she let it drop. “I don’t rightly know why no one else showed up to help with the decorations. I told the entire group that we’d be here this morning. You’d think at least one of them would have shown to lend a hand. You know, gotten into the holiday spirit?”

I nodded absently, only half listening. I opened another box and groaned. The tree—and I use that term very loosely—was in pieces, with most of the fake needles lying at the bottom of the box.

“How old is this tree?” I asked. It smelled like something had used it for bedding. A skunk maybe.

“That thing? Lordy Lou, I couldn’t say. I’m pretty sure Norma Fielding purchased it sometime before that Y2K fiasco. You remember that? Everyone got all bent out of shape over nothing.”

“So, it’s over twenty years old?” Looking at what was left of the tree, I’d believe it.

“That and then some.”

I closed the box and, like with the lights, I shoved it away. “I’ll get a new tree, too.”

“If you say so, dear. It’s not like anyone is going to care. If they did, someone from the writers’ group would be here, wouldn’t you think?” She gave an overly dramatic sigh. “It’s not like it used to be, I tell you. No one wants to help out anymore.”

“They could be at work or decided to have breakfast first.” Though, I imagined that if anyone was going to show, they would have been here by now. “What about Andi and Georgina?”

“They aren’t moving around like they used to,” Rita said. “You know how it is. You get older and your body starts to break down.”

I wasn’t nearly as old as Andi Caldwell or Georgina McCully, Rita’s gossip buddies and members of the writers’ group, but I was definitely feeling my age. It was that or the effects of all the bumps and bruises I’d taken over the last few years.

The sound of the front door opening caused a surge of excitement to zip through me. It quickly died when I heard the voices accompanying the clatter of footsteps on the stairs.

“It makes me sick, honestly.” The woman’s voice was harsh, almost lecture-like. “Everywhere you look, it’s the same. I—” She jerked to a stop as she entered the room. “What is going on in here?” Her eyes fell on me to answer.

“Uh.” I glanced at Rita, wilting under the woman’s stare. She had to be in her sixties and put every ounce of her aged experience into her withering glare.

“We’re decorating, Doris, as you can see.”

“Decorating?” The woman—Doris—scowled all the harder. She was wearing a blue dress, one of those large pearl necklaces that looked gaudy on the wrong person, but elegant on others, and a large coat that was unbuttoned, revealing the black hose and blue pumps that served as her legs’ only protection from the cold.

“Yes, decorating. It’s for the writers’ group. We meet here, if you recall.”

“Oh, I remember.”

I slunk over to the table we’d set up for concessions and started removing the plastic cups from their sleeves, just to have something to do. I didn’t know this Doris, and from her tone, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Something about her expression reminded me of the Church Lady from the old SNL skit, though I was blanking on the actor’s name who’d played her.

“It’s a Christmas party,” Rita said, though I thought the decorations made that obvious.

Doris laughed and looked back at her companions. There was no humor in it, or in her voice, when she said, “A Christmas party? See this, Agnes?” She shook her head and made a disappointed clucking sound. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about. Look at this!” She gestured around the room. “What’s missing here?”

A woman dressed much like Doris, but in cherry red and carrying a handbag with a shiny silver strap, piped up. “True spirit.”

“Exactly.” Doris turned her glare onto Rita, and then me. “Elves and jolly men in red suits? Really? And don’t get me started on the anagram for that man. We all know what it is, what this represents.” She gestured all around her.

There was a murmur of agreement from the other women.

“Were you scheduled for a meeting today?” Rita asked. “I didn’t see it on the calendar.”

“I don’t need to schedule anything on some calendar. We have a right to be here whenever we please.”

“So do we,” Rita shot back. “And we scheduled our party, right along with the time we would need to decorate, just so everyone would know.”

Doris gave Rita one of those “if you say so” tight smiles. “We’re here, in the church, for the right reason. But you can carry on with whatever you’re doing. We can meet despite you, isn’t that right, Cleo?”

A woman loitering near the back jerked in surprise when her name was mentioned. She gave me a wide-eyed look before nodding rather unconvincingly.

“You go right ahead,” Rita said. Her voice was rising with every sentence, but I thought she was doing a good job of keeping her temper in check. “We can share the space, though tonight, we do have this room reserved for the party, so if you plan on meeting, it’ll have to be elsewhere.”

“We’ll see about that.” Doris and her gaggle headed for the far end of the room, well away from our decorating. Cleo ducked her head as she passed, and I’m pretty sure she was mouthing apologies, though it was hard to tell since she wasn’t making eye contact, let alone a sound.

“Who is that?” I asked Rita when she came over to join me at the table. And then, before she could answer, I snapped my fingers. “Dana Carvey!”

Rita gave me a funny look. “No, it’s Doris Appleton. She’s a member of the church. A vocal one. I swear she acts as if she runs the place.”

Doris was holding court with the other women. She was talking and gesturing nearly nonstop, and every few seconds, she’d shoot a glare Rita’s way.

“I take it you two don’t get along?”

“Honestly? That woman only cares about one thing, and one thing only.” Rita huffed and walked off without telling me what that one thing was, though I could hazard a guess.

I finished with the cups and decided to start in on the chairs that were to be placed around the room for people to sit during the party. Doris and her crew had borrowed a few, which was fine by me, but it did mean I had to walk over near them to gather the rest.

“Did you see how much he was charging for that garbage?” Doris was saying. “Marked the price right up, then called it a sale. It’s exploitation. They’ve been doing it for years. As soon as Christmas hits, the vultures swoop in and try to make a few extra bucks. They have no concept of what the season is truly about.”

“I tried to get a coffee at that coffee shop downtown and was appalled by what I saw.” This from a woman I don’t ever recall seeing at Death by Coffee, though I’m not always there.

“Exploitation.” Doris said, turning to me. “You own that place, don’t you?”

My arms were laden with metal folding chairs or else I would have crossed them defensively. “I do. With my friend.”

“Can you explain to me, to Annie here, why you are exploiting the holiday season for profit?”

“I’m not exploiting anything.”

“You’re not?” Doris placed a hand near her pearls. I noted the overlarge wedding ring on her finger. It appeared as if everything about this woman was exaggerated. “So, you aren’t selling Christmas books or Christmas themed drinks?”

“Well, I am, but—”

“What did I tell you?” Doris shouted over me as she turned back to her cohorts. “Exploitation.” She readjusted so she could look directly at me. “You are part of the problem, young lady. You’ve forgotten the true spirit of the season and are instead looking to capitalize on it for your own greed. It’s just like that place across the street.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “What place?” I asked.

“The toy store!” Doris clapped her hands together, causing me to jump. “Have you seen the prices in Andrew’s Gifts? And look at what he’s selling? Name-brand toys when local businesses are flailing. It’s ridiculous. No, it’s more than that; it’s pure unadulterated greed. It’s running rampant in this town, and you and the man that runs that place are guilty of it. Honestly, someone should shut you all down and put an end to this . . . this . . . travesty once and for all.”

Something rather un-Christmas-like was on the tip of my tongue, but thankfully, the door opened again and the sound of boots on the stairs caught my attention. I knew that walk.

“Excuse me,” I said, setting the chairs down right where I’d gotten them. They could wait.

A shadow darkened the doorway and a moment later, a fit, bald man with a trimmed beard that had gone completely to gray stepped into the room, a book in one hand, and a wide grin on his face.

“Dad!” I hurried across the room and hugged him.

“Buttercup.” He squeezed. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” Even though I’d known he was going to be there, I felt as if I’d been surprised by him. I breathed deep and memories of my youth flooded in. No matter how old I got, how far away from home I lived, I would never tire of having my dad around.

A gasp came from the other side of the room. I released Dad and stepped back. I might have known he was coming to Pine Hills for a visit, but there was someone else who’d had no idea he was flying in to town.

“Oh, my Lordy Lou!” Rita practically squealed it. “James Hancock? Here?” She took two quick steps our way and then stopped, as if she wasn’t sure if she should rush him or wait her turn. “I didn’t know you were coming. If I did, I would have . . . I . . .” She started fanning herself.

To say Rita had a crush on my dad was an understatement. She considered herself his number one fan in a not quite, but kind of, Misery way. She had yet to kidnap him or lock him up in her bedroom, and I was pretty sure Rita wouldn’t go that far, but with how excited she got whenever Dad was in town, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head.

“Hi, Rita,” Dad said, crossing the distance toward her. “I brought you something.” He held the book out to her.

Rita’s eyes were wide as she took it. “Is this Scars of the Heart?”

“It is. An early copy, just for you.”

Rita clutched it to her chest. “I loved Victim of the Heart so much. I’m sure this is going to be even better.” She opened the book, hand flying to her mouth when she saw whatever message he’d scrawled inside along with his name. “I will cherish it forever.”

Dad gave Rita a hug, one that likely saved her from bursting into happy tears. She’d had a tough time lately, so this little surprise I’d arranged was hitting her hard. Her boyfriend, Johan Morrison, had gotten himself caught up with some shady characters recently and was currently on the run. Rita tried to play it off like she was fine, but every so often, I caught a glimpse of the sadness hiding behind her jovial nature.

“Did you come alone?” Rita asked once she released my dad. Her eyes traveled to the doorway, but no one else was walking through it.

“Laura is here.” Laura Dresden was Dad’s girlfriend. “Well, not here, here, but at Death by Coffee.”

Across the room, Doris scoffed. I ignored her.

“Oh.” Rita appeared crestfallen for a heartbeat before perking back up. “Well, that’s all right. You should both come to the party tonight. It’s for the writers’ group so I’m positive they’d love to have a real-life author in their midst.” She paused. “That’s not to say we don’t have writers of our own. We do. Just no one of your stature.” Her gaze traveled back to her book. “I can’t wait to get started on reading this.”

“And here, look.” Dad took the book from Rita, turned a page, and then handed it back.

She stared at whatever was there, mouth agape, making strange, shocked sounds.

Curious, I moved to look over her shoulder.

To my most loyal fan; the woman who has stood by my daughter, no matter what trouble she’d gotten herself into, Rita Jablonski.

“You . . . You dedicated it to me?” This time, the tears did fall.

“Who else would I dedicate it to?”

I had to dab at my own eyes as Rita gushed over the dedication. The rest of Dad’s visit could be a disaster, and I’d find it worth it for this one moment. Not that I wanted a bad visit, mind you. But I doubted anything could top this.

“I think I might need to take a break, dear,” Rita told me with a pat on my arm. “You should spend a little time with your father. We can finish this up later.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I need to get the tree and lights anyway.” Besides, most of the decorating was done. All that was left were the chairs and the tree and lights I still needed to buy and then we’d be finished.

“Laura dropped me off before taking the rental to Death by Coffee,” Dad said. “We could walk, but it’s awfully cold out there.”

“My Escape is just outside.” He couldn’t have missed the bright orange vehicle, even with his eyes closed. “The store’s not far from here, but we can drive anyway.” I’d been exercising much more as of late, so I wasn’t as out of shape as I used to be, but I still didn’t want to walk anywhere in the cold. It had yet to snow, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t bone-chilling freezing.

“Thank you so much for this, James,” Rita said. “I do hope to see you later.”

“I’ll be here.” He winked at her, which caused her to blush, before he turned to me. “Ready to go?”

“Let me grab my coat and I will be.” I hurried to the front of the room where Rita and I had dumped our things. I snatched up my coat and purse, threw them on, and then rejoined my dad by the door. “Ready.”

“Then lead on, Buttercup.”

I glanced back at Rita. She was seated in the recliner she used during group meetings, caressing the cover of the book. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but by her expression, I was pretty sure they were good thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “Your copy is in the car.”

Turning away from Rita, I caught a glimpse of Doris glaring at me, as if I’d completely ruined her day by causing the little burst of joy for Rita. You’d think that someone who was concerned with the spirit of the holiday so much would have been thrilled by it.

Oh, well. You can’t please everyone.

And honestly? I didn’t care one lick about what Doris what’s-her-name thought.

I turned my back on her, and headed out the door with my dad, intent on enjoying the holiday however I saw fit.

A large cup of coffee sat atop an open book above the door to the bookstore café. The words “Death by Coffee” were spelled out in white froth within the coffee mug. Through the plate glass windows, I could see movement within the store, including a head of purple hair I hadn’t seen in months.

Lena? I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it might be.

“What is it?” Dad asked as I just about fell from the front seat in my haste to climb out of the car. “What’s happening?”

I was too excited—and too choked up—to answer him.

A blast of warmth hit me as I all but ran through the front door of Death by Coffee. Many of the seats were occupied with customers sipping hot drinks. Upstairs, dice rattled across a coffee table where Yolanda Barton sat with a couple of her friends, playing a board game.

And standing by the counter, surrounded by employees, was indeed Lena Allison.

Lena had worked for us from the time we’d opened, right up until she’d left Pine Hills for college. Her hair was a shoulder-length vibrant purple that tapered to black at the tips. It matched her eyeshadow, and the bruise on her left arm that was likely caused by a skateboarding spill. She grinned from ear to ear when she saw me enter.

“Hi, Ms. Hancock.” When I narrowed my eyes at her, she laughed. “Okay. Krissy.”

“Lena! When did you get back into town?” I hurried over to her and hugged her. Already, this was turning into the best Christmas ever. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“Yeah, it was sort of last minute.” She reddened and stepped back. “Surprised everyone at home when I came crashing through the doorway.”

I was blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt not to cry. “I see you’ve met your replacement.”

Eugene Dohmer’s normally squinty eyes widened and he raised both his hands. “I’m not replacing anyone.”

Beside him, Beth Milner laughed, and then her grin turned mischievous. “Right. He’s been talking nonstop about how he’s far superior to the slacker who’d come before him, and that they might as well rename the place to Eugene’s Coffee because he’s so much better.”

Eugene’s mouth dropped open as he looked from me to Beth. A faint red was rising up his collar. “I never . . . you’re just . . . No!”

I let him off the hook. “It’s really good to see you, Lena. Is Zay here?” Zay was Lena’s boyfriend. Or friend who is a boy. I don’t know. She’d never actually admitted to dating him, but it was obvious they’d had a thing for one another when they lived in Pine Hills. They’d even left for college at the same time, to the same place, so it would seem strange if they weren’t dating.

Some of the luster faded from Lena’s face. “Zay and I have moved on from one another,” she said, almost carefully, as if choosing her words. “He’s cool and all, but we found our interests didn’t align as much as we’d thought.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shrugged. “Nah, it’s cool. It was getting harder and harder to pay for food for the both of us, so now that it’s just me, I’m managing.”

The “barely” was implied.

Now that she mentioned cash flow problems, I noted that her arms were a bit thinner than before, the bones in her face a smidge more prominent. She wasn’t starving by any means, but I could tell she wasn’t living in the lap of luxury either.

“Vicki and Mason are in California visiting her parents for the holidays,” I said, wondering how that was going, even as I said it. Vicki didn’t exactly get along with her mom and dad, and since Mason’s own contentious father, Raymond Lawyer, and his cantankerous girlfriend, Regina Harper, had gone along with them . . . Yikes. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you wanted to step in and snatch a few hours. You know, for old times’ sake?”

Lena bit her lower lip, which had started to quiver. “I couldn’t . . . Hey, Mr. Hancock!” She sounded almost relieved as Dad and Laura approached. “It’s been a long time.”

“Lena. It’s good to see you. Please, call me James.”

“Hi, Krissy.” Laura’s smile was radiant and was reflected in the gleam in Dad’s eye as he looked at her. I could easily have been upset when he’d started dating her, accused her of trying to replace my mom, who’d died many, many years ago.

But he was happy, so I was happy. And, honestly, Laura was good for Dad. He looked younger and fitter than I ever remember seeing him, despite the gray.

“Laura.” I hugged her, carefully, so as not to spill her drink. “It’s good to see you.” I noted the candy cane sticking out of the cup. “How do you like the peppermint cappuccino?”

She stirred the coffee with the candy cane before taking a long drink. “It’s fantastic.”

“That reminds me,” Beth said. “We’re running low on the candy. I don’t think we’ll have enough for more than a day or two.”

“I’ll pick some up,” I said, adding it to my mental list of things to do. “But it might not be until to-morrow.”

“You know? I should get going,” Lena said, easing away. “I really don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” I said. “You’re family.”

“Yeah, well, my family family will be wondering where I’ve run off to, so I should pop in at home for a bit. I kind of left this morning without telling anyone where I was going.” She gave me a sheepish grin as she shrugged on her coat. I noted the wince as she did, telling me the bruise still hurt, and I wondered if she might have more hidden beneath her clothing.

“Think about my offer,” I said. “With Vicki and Mason gone, we rea. . .