Ice Coffee Corruption

Book 15: Killer Coffee Mysteries

by Tonya Kappes

Genres: Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries; Culinary Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY WITH A SMIDGEN OF HOMICIDE

Killer Coffee Cozy Mystery is a series about small town gossip, family, friends, and putting differences aside when troubles brews.
Do you love to read about family and friendships?
Do you enjoy holidays, festivals, and celebrations?
What about when life isn't always rosy?
This series has all of that and more along with twisty turn mysteries that will have you rooting for the entire town of Honey Springs.

Welcome to the Bean Hive Coffeehouse where the gossip is as hot as the coffee!

 

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Release date: September 5, 2024

Publisher: Tonya Kappes Books

Print pages: 225

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (3) action-packed (1) escapist/easy read (1) realistic characters (1) satisfying ending (1) suspenseful (1) unputdownable (1)

Sample

Chapter One
There aren’t going to be too many mornings like this, I thought. As I pedaled my bicycle across the curvy quiet road that led from my little cabin straight to the boardwalk and the Bean Hive, I sucked in a deep breath of the cold early-morning breeze that skittered along Lake Honey Springs.
Pepper, my schnauzer and trusty companion, looked back at me from his perch in the bicycle’s basket. His big dark eyes looked at me from underneath his salt-and-pepper brows.
“You always know what I’m thinking, don’t you?” I asked him, though I didn’t expect a response.
He let out a little yip, telling me he, too, knew these bike rides to the Bean Hive were about to come to an end as the fall turned into winter. Soon we’d be huddled in the cold car, dreaming of mornings like this.
By the calendar, winter didn’t even start here until early January, but in Kentucky, Mother Nature liked to show up like an uninvited guest around November. As good Southerners, we welcomed her by lighting our fireplaces and warming up with a hot cup of coffee, a cozy blanket, and a good book. The forecast was already calling for a Thanksgiving snow.
The thought of that sent a chill right to my bones.
I shivered and gripped the handlebars as we slowly took the last curve that would put us on the straightaway to the pier.
The closer we got to the boardwalk, the colder it got, thanks to the wind coming off Lake Honey Springs. Even the leaves along the wooded area between the road and the lake told the story of what was coming.
The farther away you got from the lake, the more trees there were still full with the colors of fall. The burnt oranges, yellows, and pops of red still painted the landscape of our tourist town, which made for a gorgeous getaway spot even as Mother Nature started to knock on our door.
“It won’t be long until the trees are bare and outstretch their arms,” I told Pepper, thinking about the cold winter mornings when the temperatures were below freezing and we still had to get up well before dawn to open the Bean Hive. “But luckily, we have a lot of good, seasoned firewood.”
The thought of a roaring fire, couches, and coffee made me smile. The little things like these were what made the coffeehouse so inviting to our neighbors and tourists. And today was all about baking and cooking ahead, which I loved to do.
Through the sparse trees on the right side of the road, I could see the faint lights of the Cocoon Hotel start to grow brighter. It was a sure sign I was getting closer and would soon be able to see the entire historic hotel that sat on the banks of the lake. The hotel was in a perfect spot, which the city council had chosen for this year’s annual Friendsgiving Harvest Fest.
The Cocoon Hotel emerged from the predawn shadows, the charming home-turned-hotel illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed lights. The moon’s gentle beams gave a dew-kissed appearance to the lawn. The hotel, with its stately columns and wraparound porch, made a grand statement against the backdrop of the still, dark waters of Lake Honey Springs.
My eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of the festive decorations: a huge scarecrow standing proudly on the side lawn between the hotel and the end of the boardwalk. Even in the dim light, the scarecrow was a magnificent creation, towering over the grounds with an aura of whimsical guardianship.
The scarecrow was dressed in a patchwork of flannel shirts and denim overalls, its head a large pumpkin with a friendly hand-painted expression. Straw poked out from the cuffs of its sleeves and pant legs, giving it an endearingly rustic look.
Around its neck hung a garland of colorful leaves and small gourds, adding to the festive spirit. A wide-brimmed hat perched atop its head, slightly askew, gave it a jaunty air. The scarecrow’s outstretched arms seemed to welcome the dawn as much as they would welcome the townsfolk who would go to the tent beside the scarecrow later in the day to get the week-long festival’s brochure.
The sight of the scarecrow, coupled with the gentle illumination of the Cocoon Hotel, filled me with a sense of anticipation. Even in the quiet stillness of the early morning, the Friendsgiving Harvest Fest promised to be a memorable event that would bring the whole community together in a celebration of friendship, gratitude, and the bountiful harvest of the season with a small number of tourists.
Pepper popped up from his snuggly blanket in the basket as soon as he heard the rhythmic thumping of the pier’s wooden planks underneath the bike’s tires. The fog was still thick over the lake and wispy on the boardwalk, shrouding the sight of the water. However, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore was a whispered reminder of the lake’s presence, even though we couldn’t see it until the sun decided to join us and burn off the fog.
“Just a minute,” I told Pepper when he tried to stand up in the basket. I hopped off the bike and walked it to the rack located just outside the coffeehouse door. The familiar thud of my shoes on the wooden planks echoed in the quiet morning.
Even though the morning routine was always the same, it was still exciting, and I loved it. It was a far cry from my scramble to get into the big-city office when I was a lawyer.
Boy, that sure did seem like a lifetime ago. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like I’d lived that life now that I was happily married to Patrick Cane, my teenage summer crush, and living in an adorable cabin here in Honey Springs with our two dogs, Pepper and Sassy.
I picked Pepper up out of the basket and set him down on the boardwalk. He immediately darted to the coffeehouse door, his little tail wagging in anticipation. The fog swirled around his legs as he moved.
“You must be hungry,” I told him, taking out my keys from my pocket and unlocking the door.
Pepper darted in before I could even slide my hand through the doorway to flip on the lights. In fact, he was already sitting patiently by his bowl next to the L-shaped counter located against the back wall of the coffeehouse.
“I love it here,” I sighed, taking a moment to look around. The comforting familiarity of the shop wrapped around me like a favorite blanket, reminding me of just how far I’d come.
The hustle and bustle of my former life as a lawyer seemed like a distant memory compared to the tranquil, fulfilling routine I had found here in Honey Springs. The Bean Hive was not just a coffeehouse but a sanctuary, a place where I could connect with the community and savor the simple pleasures of life.
The coffeehouse was nestled in the heart of the boardwalk, directly across from the pier. This location was prime, and I was ecstatic about the café’s charming interior, complete with exposed-brick walls and wooden ceiling beams that required no alterations. Fortunately, Aunt Maxi owned the building. Although the rent was a bit high, I had made the necessary repairs to pass inspection, relying on the instructions from a few YouTube videos. The DIY shiplap wall, which I’d crafted out of plywood and painted white to mimic real shiplap, was a source of pride.
Instead of splurging on a fancy menu or even wall-mounted menu boards, I opted for four large chalkboards that hung from the ceiling over the L-shaped glass countertop. The first chalkboard menu, positioned above the pie counter, displayed the selection of pies and cookies and their prices. The second menu, above the tortes and quiches, added a touch of elegance. The third menu, located at the curve of the L-shaped counter, listed breakfast casseroles and drinks. Finally, the fourth chalkboard, above the other counter, detailed the lunch options, including soups, and added catering information.
Drink stations flanked each side of the counter. The coffee bar featured six industrial thermoses filled with various specialty coffee blends, along with one dedicated to decaffeinated coffee—something I had never quite understood. However, Aunt Maxi ensured I knew that some people preferred the “unleaded” version. The coffee bar was equipped with everything necessary for a quick self-serve experience, including an honor system for payments.
On the opposite end of the counter, the tea bar offered a delightful array of hot and cold teas. There was a fine selection of gourmet and loose-leaf options along with antique teapots from Wild and Whimsy Antique Shop, the first shop on the boardwalk. Customers could either have a pot of hot tea prepared for them or make their own to suit their tastes.
Inside, a few café tables stood scattered around, providing spots for patrons to settle. Additionally, two long window tables with stools flanked the front door, offering the perfect vantage point to enjoy a beautiful view of Lake Honey Springs while sipping on a favorite beverage. The atmosphere was inviting and made the Bean Hive a beloved spot for both locals and tourists.
Yip, yip. Pepper stood beside the counter, his eyes wide and expectant as he stared at his empty bowl.
“I’m coming,” I called out, weaving my way around the tables and chairs. I couldn’t help but reposition a few of the mismatched salt and pepper shakers I’d scored from the Wild and Whimsy. Each shaker, with its unique charm, added to the eclectic feel of the Bean Hive.
“Why are you so hungry this morning?” I asked, giving him a pat on the head before circling around the counter. I reached into the bag of kibble, scooped out a generous portion, and poured it into his bowl with a satisfying clatter. “There you go,” I said, watching Pepper dive into his breakfast with gusto.
Turning back to my morning routine, I flipped on several industrial coffeepots.
“Let me get the ovens turned on, and I’ll take you out,” I told Pepper as I unzipped my jacket, which I hung up on the coat-tree beside the counter and replaced with an apron sporting the Bean Hive logo.
With the apron tied securely around my waist, I was just about to push through the door separating the kitchen and bean-roasting area from the shop, when the bell above the door jingled.
“Mornin’!” Bunny Bowowski’s voice rang out, cheerful and brisk. She began removing the bobby pins from her pillbox hat, and her neatly brushed and sprayed gray chin-length hair sprang free. “Don’t look so stunned,” she warned with a twinkle in her eye, peeling off her matching shawl as she proceeded to the coatrack to hang it up in place of an apron.
“Hello there, Pepper,” she greeted, bending slightly.
Pepper paused from his meal to wag his tail in acknowledgment before diving back into his bowl.
“Is the time wrong?” I glanced over my shoulder at the clock above the industrial coffeepots, half expecting a time warp. “Or are you just really early?” I asked reaching underneath the counter to retrieve a couple of pitchers.
I also made sure to prepare a few pitchers of our house-blend iced coffee. Even with the cool morning breeze, I knew the iced coffee loyalists would appreciate having their favorite drink ready.
Bunny scooted behind me, her brown pocketbook dangling from the crook of her elbow. She stashed her purse under the counter with practiced ease. “I reckoned I needed to get in here and help you get ready for today,” she said, removing the lid from the jar of homemade animal treats and extracting one for Pepper.
She moved back around me, bent down to give Pepper a treat, and then started to walk through the swinging door.
“You and I both know today is going to be busier than a moth in a mitten,” Bunny said, her Southern charm shining through her unique expressions.
I snickered, following her into the working kitchen. Despite her humor, I couldn’t shake my unease at her early arrival. Bunny, in her elderly season of life, worked here more for companionship than out of necessity. Her name on the employee schedule was accompanied by the phrase when I feel like it, written in her elegant script. Seeing her here before five a.m. was a definite shock.
Bunny moved with purpose, her experienced hands already prepping ingredients and setting up the day’s supplies. “You know, Roxy, this Friendsgiving Harvest Fest is going to be the talk of the town,” she said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
I nodded, appreciating her dedication. “Thanks for coming in so early, Bunny. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“And I’ve got to get some of these cookies decorated,” I said and let Bunny move around the kitchen to turn the ovens on before she headed into the walk-in freezer. She needed to go there to get the premade items I’d been baking on my Sundays off to prepare for this week’s festival.
“Lordy be, Roxanne Bloom Cane.” Bunny used my full name, letting me know how she felt without directly commenting on all the frozen items she was seeing. “What do you want me to stick in the oven?”
“How about the pumpkin spice muffins, cranberry-orange scones, apple-cinnamon bread, and the maple-pecan bars?” My mouth watered just saying the names of the delicious treats that would pair excellently with the Harvest Harmony Blend coffee I had roasted to perfection just for the Friendsgiving Harvest Fest. “Oh, also the sweet potato biscuits.”
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Bunny said. We both knew about the sweet potato biscuits with a dash of Jean Hill’s honey. The combination was a fall favorite of Bunny’s.
“And I just bought a whole lot of Jean’s fresh honey,” I told her and pointed at the nondescript bag on the dry-ingredient shelf.
Before I grabbed a cookie sheet from the cooling rack where I’d left a bunch of sugar cookies I’d baked last night, I took a moment to admire them. The cookies, cut into the shapes of leaves, pumpkins, acorns, and scarecrows, were perfectly golden and ready for the final touch of icing, which would bring them to life.
I set up my decorating station on the large steel table in the center of the kitchen. The bowls of vibrant icing I’d made last night were lined up, each color reminiscent of autumn—rich orange, deep red, golden yellow, earthy brown, and a vibrant green. A piping bag in hand, I started with a pumpkin-shaped cookie.
Carefully, I outlined the plump shape with the orange icing then filled the cookie in and smoothed the surface with gentle strokes. A delicate brown stem at the top completed the look. Next, I moved to a leaf-shaped cookie and traced its jagged edges with red icing. I added veining details to mimic the intricate patterns found in nature.
The acorns were next. I adorned their tops with a textured pattern of brown icing to resemble the real nuts’ rough caps and filled the rest with a smooth, creamy beige. Each cookie seemed to tell a story of the season, capturing the essence of fall in every detail.
My favorite cookies to decorate, however, were the ones shaped like scarecrows. Each one was a unique character, its hat and overalls bursting with autumnal colors. I piped tiny patches onto the scarecrow cookies’ clothing and added cheerful faces with carefully placed dots of icing. Their straw hands and feet, created with quick flicks of the piping bag, gave them a whimsical touch.
These were going to sell the fastest for sure, since the scarecrow scavenger hunt would be underway as soon as the festival opened.
As I worked, the kitchen filled with the sweet scents of sugar and vanilla mingling with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. Bunny peeked in from the front, her curiosity piqued by the colorful array of cookies laid across the table.
“Those look amazing, Roxy!” she exclaimed, stepping closer to get a better look. “You’ve outdone yourself this year.”
“Thanks, Bunny,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face. “I wanted to make something special for the Friendsgiving Harvest Fest. Everyone loves a good cookie, especially when they look as festive as these.”
“I’ll get the platters for the display case,” Bunny said and headed over to the closet where we kept various platters, display tiers, and more for the counter out in the shop.
“You plate them, and I’ll head on down to the Cocoon Hotel,” I told her. I wiped my hands down my apron to remove the icing before I untied it from around my waist.
On my way out of the kitchen’s swing-through door, I tossed the dirty apron in the laundry basket.
“Are you ready to go potty?” I asked Pepper. Part of our routine was for Pepper to go potty while I took the complimentary coffee to the hospitality room of the Cocoon Hotel.
He popped up from the dog bed near the fireplace and ran toward the door. I didn’t need to put a leash on him this early in the morning, but I did put one on him during daytime walks while the boardwalk was open and busy.
With my coat zipped up and the industrial thermos in hand, I headed out the door with Pepper.
Ding, ding. The sound of a bicycle bell echoed down the boardwalk from the opposite direction Pepper and I were walking in. I turned to see Aunt Maxi pedaling toward us, her bike adorned with a basket filled with colorful knitting supplies and a small, well-worn radio playing festive tunes.
“Aunt Maxi!” I called out, watching her face light up with joy as she approached.
“You’ve got a good nose,” she said, parking her bike and hopping to her feet with surprising agility. Her oversized coat flapped around her like a cape, and the big scarf twisted around her neck nearly hid the beaming smile on her face. She wore a knit cap pulled down over her ears, and her crossbody purse was strapped securely across her chest. As she stuffed her gloves into the front pocket, she noticed Pepper yipping and yapping in excitement.
“Why, hello there, sweet boy,” she cooed, bending down and giving Pepper a scratch behind the ears. When she straightened up, she tugged off her knit cap, revealing her hair, which was now dyed a vibrant shade of orange and adorned with streaks of yellow and red—perfectly matching the fall theme of the Friendsgiving Harvest Fest.
“Aunt Maxi,” I said with a chuckle, “your hair is perfect for the festival.”
“Thank you, darling. I thought I’d get into the spirit,” she replied, giving her hair a playful toss. “Now, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I’m taking the complimentary coffee to the Cocoon Hotel’s hospitality room,” I said, lifting the industrial thermos. “And Pepper here needs his morning walk.”
“I’ll just be-bop on inside the coffeehouse and start getting things ready.” Aunt Maxi started toward the door.
“Be nice to Bunny,” I told Aunt Maxi as she reached for the door handle and then pulled her hand back. “Bunny is early today.”
I had to warn her because she and Bunny didn’t really see eye to eye, which made situations between them sticky at times.
“Then I’ll take the coffee to Camey,” she said, referring to Camey Montgomery, the owner of the Cocoon Hotel. “And Pepper too.”
I handed her the thermos.
“Thank you, Aunt Maxi.”
After giving me a reassuring smile, she started down the boardwalk, the morning fog still lingering around her. Pepper trotted happily beside her, his tail wagging in rhythm with her steps.
Aunt Maxi had started to whistle a happy tune as she proceeded to the Cocoon Hotel.
As I watched her walk away, her vibrant hair catching the soft morning light, I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile. Aunt Maxi always brought me a touch of chaos and joy, and I couldn’t imagine starting my day any other way. But I also wondered what I could do this Friendsgiving to get Aunt Maxi and Bunny to be nicer to each other.
With a deep breath, I turned back to the Bean Hive, ready to tackle the preparations for the busy day ahead. The sound of the festive tunes from Aunt Maxi’s radio faded into the distance as she disappeared down the empty boardwalk with Pepper in tow. The thought of creating harmony between the two older women stayed with me as I stepped inside, determined to make this Friendsgiving the best one yet.

 

end of excerpt