Death by Coffee (A Bookstore Cafe Mystery, Band 1) - Softcover

Erickson, Alex

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1617737518 ISBN 13: 9781617737510

Verlag: Kensington, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

When Krissy Hancock and her best friend Vicki decide to open a bookstore café in their new town of Pine Hills, they decide to call it "Death by Coffee," after Krissy’s father’s most famous mystery novel. Little do they know how well the name fits…

On their very first day of business, Brendon Lawyer huffily takes his coffee…to the grave. It seems he had a severe allergy to peanuts…but how could there have been nuts in his coffee? And who stole his emergency allergy medication?

Fortunately, Krissy’s love of puzzles and mysteries leads her not only to Officer Paul Dalton, but also to many of her new neighbors, who aren’t terribly upset that the book is closed on Brendon. But one of them is a killer, and Krissy needs to read between the lies if she wants to save her new store—and live to see how this story ends…

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Alex Erickson has always wanted to write, even at a young, impressionable age. He’s always had an interest in the motive behind murder, which has led him down his current path. He’s always ready with a witty—at least in his opinion—quip, and tries to keep every conversation light and friendly. Alex lives in Ohio with his family and resident felines, who provide endless amounts of inspiration. You can visit him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/AEricksonbooks and on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/alexericksonbooks.

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Death by Coffee

By Alex Erickson

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Copyright © 2015 Eric S. Moore
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-61773-751-0

CHAPTER 1

"One caramel latte," I said, setting the drink on the counter. I smiled brightly at the older woman who'd ordered it. She glanced at the cup, gave me a solid glare, and then snatched it off the counter with a grunt. She carried the cup to the corner table by the window, sat down, and sniffed her coffee like she fully expected it to smell awful.

I watched her show with my smile somehow still in place. When she'd ordered the drink, the woman had acted like she was being forced into it, which was stupid. Who would force someone to drink coffee?

She shot me a withering glare from her seat, as if she could hear the thoughts passing through my head, and then took a tentative sip out of the cup. Her eyebrows rose in surprise before she scowled at her cup and took another, longer sip. The more she drank, the angrier she looked.

"All righty then," I said, turning away.

When my best friend, Vicki Patterson, had called me up out of the blue and asked if I wanted to move to Pine Hills and start up a combination bookstore and coffee shop, I'd been ecstatic. I'd been working at a retail job I hated, selling clothes to women as big around as my leg. Her call was my way out. We loved books. We loved coffee. What could possibly go wrong?

Vicki had moved to Pine Hills a few months before her call. We'd grown up in California together, where celebrities walked the sidewalk, where you couldn't take two steps without tripping over someone's runt of a dog, so her move to a small town in the Midwest caught me completely by surprise. We'd spent nearly every second of our lives together before she left. We'd gone to the same high school, attended the same college. Losing her had felt like losing a part of myself. When she'd called, I'd just started to get used to life without her.

"There's absolutely no bookstore or coffeehouse in town!" she'd all but squealed into the phone. "It'll be perfect, Krissy! We can live close together again!"

How could I say no to that?

Before I knew what I was doing, I was talking to my dad about the investment and looking for a house in Pine Hills. It would be good for the both of us. Vicki had moved away from home in order to get away from her parents, who loved her, sure, but were intent on making her follow in their footsteps. They were both actors and they didn't understand why she wouldn't jump at the chance to be a star. But show business wasn't the life she wanted. She hated being in front of cameras, hated comparing herself to the other girls, who would do just about anything to land an acting job. No matter how many times she told her folks, they just didn't get it. So she just up and moved away. It was the only way she could escape the pressure.

I glanced up the two steps that led to the bookstore portion of our store. Vicki was talking with a woman near the mystery rack, who was listening to her with rapt attention. Vicki had the requisite long legs and the perfect blond hair to get most any job—acting or otherwise, yet this was what she wanted to do. Her bright blue eyes, trim figure, and bubbly personality would have been a hit on the big screen, and I often wondered if I was somehow holding her back. I mean, who was I, really? If I tried out for a movie, I'd end up being cast as the creature from the swamp or the unattractive best friend, if I was cast at all.

Vicki saw me looking, gave me one of her winning smiles, and then turned back to the woman. She held out a book to her and I noted it was one of my dad's first.

I heaved a sigh. Vicki wasn't the only one who had a somewhat-famous parent. My dad used to be a mystery writer before he retired, and it was on his minor success that we were able to open our little store. I don't think we would have gotten a big-enough loan, otherwise.

The bell above the door tinkled and I turned to our newest customer. A middle-aged woman stepped inside and looked around the little space in wide-eyed wonder. She was short, a little on the dumpy side, and was graying at the temples. Her gaze fell on me, causing her entire face to light up. She rushed over to where I stood behind the counter; her purse was clutched so tight to her chest, I was worried it would explode.

"Welcome to Death by Coffee," I said, cringing just a little. I abhorred the name, but Vicki had insisted on it.

"Kristina Hancock?" the woman asked. She leaned forward, giving me a look that made me worried that she was looking for a bit more than just a cup of coffee. She appeared ready to devour me, clothes and all.

"Yes?" I answered hesitantly. I was pretty sure I'd never seen this woman in my life. My name wasn't any big secret or anything; but being new in town, I found it unsettling to have someone already know who I was when I didn't have the slightest clue as to her identity.

"Daughter of James Hancock?"

I groaned inwardly. Of course. That was how she knew me. I should have known. "Yes," I said, somehow managing a smile.

"Oh, my." She fanned herself with her purse. The skin under her arm flapped alarmingly as she did. "I'm such a big fan of your father's. I mean, when I saw the name on the door, I was positive it had to have something to do with him. And then when I saw you ... Oh! You look just like him!"

Sure, if I had a beard and was bald and was sixty pounds heavier, maybe.

The woman blinked her eyes rapidly as she continued to fan herself. I didn't know what to say to her. I never wanted to name the store after my dad's most popular book, but Vicki had insisted. He'd supplied us with most of the money we needed to get started with the store. He'd even donated over half of the books we were selling. He hadn't written a book in at least five years, yet people still treated him like royalty.

It was part of the reason why I wanted to get away so badly. Like Vicki, I didn't want to live on my dad's reputation. I wanted to be my own person, find my own way.

Vicki, unfortunately, didn't quite see it my way.

"Just think of it," she'd said, trying to convince me it was for the best. "His fans will surely love the name and will come flocking in because of it. Can we really risk losing such easy advertising?"

I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. I could handle using my dad's reputation to at least get us started, but the name? I mean, Death by Coffee? Really?

Of course, she wouldn't listen to reason. She insisted it would be for the best. My dad was the only real celebrity we had. Her dad's only claim to fame was a cameo on The Walking Dead. He was zombie #12, I believe.

"Do you have any of your father's books for sale here, hon?" the woman asked after she'd sufficiently fanned herself off.

"We do," I said. "And they're signed. If you'll talk to Vicki, I'm sure she can—"

"Oh no, I don't need them," the woman said with a wave of her hand. "I already have his complete works, all signed, of course. I met him in Austin a few years back. That's Texas, you know?" She leaned in closer. Her impressive bosom rose up beneath her chin and threatened to spill out over the counter. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Do you know if he's working on anything new?"

I kept my smile plastered on as I answered. "I don't think so. I'll ask him the next time I talk to him."

"Do that." She leaned back, allowing her breasts to jiggle back into place. "My name's Rita Jablonski, by the way." She held out a dumpy little hand.

"Krissy Hancock," I said automatically, taking her hand. It...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Kensington
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2015
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1617737518
• ISBN 13: 9781617737510
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
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