Death by Tea (23 page)

He paused at his car door and shrugged. “Evidence,” he said before tossing the rock into the backseat as if it was nothing more than a souvenir.

Without another word, he got into his cruiser, started the engine, and backed out.

And then he was gone.

I felt oddly empty as I went back home. This should have been a defining moment in the case, one where something extraordinary was discovered, yet I was left with nothing. I just wanted to crawl into bed with a bag of popcorn and my fluffy orange bed warmer. Nothing else was going to get accomplished tonight. I still had to go to work tomorrow, but afterward . . . that's when I was finally going to make some serious progress.

Either that or take a rock to the head.

With the way my life was going, both were just as likely.

24

The bell above the door jangled. I looked up, worried we had yet another customer. Death by Coffee started out the morning busy, and it hadn't slowed down for the two hours since. Lena was at my side, filling orders as fast as I could take them, when she wasn't up in the bookstore. Vicki wouldn't come in until later, which meant it was just the two of us for the time being.

I breathed a sigh of relief as Mike Green waltzed in, looking as if he didn't care about the line that was still almost to the door. Every table was occupied and dirty. It was as if the entire town had up and decided to pay me a visit just to run me into the ground.

“What's happening?” Mike said, coming around the counter for his apron.

Before I could answer, the man at the counter did it for me. “J&E's is closed today. They're redoing the floors.”

Ah, well, that explained why everyone was coming to Death by Coffee. I just hoped after sampling my coffee, many of the customers would decide to keep coming back. Just not all at once. I don't think I could take another morning like this.

Mike tied on his apron and slouched his way over to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. He leaned against the wall and took a casual sip.

“How about you clock in?” I asked, flustered. I couldn't remember if the man at the counter had ordered a mocha cappuccino or a French vanilla. I turned and asked him as Mike answered.

“Nah, man. I got another three minutes 'til I'm due.”

“French vanilla,” the customer said.

“Just do it already!” I shouted, spinning for the cappuccino machine.

“Man . . .” Mike grumbled as he made his way over to the register to clock in.

With him there, things ran just a little smoother. I handed the register over to him and went about filling the orders, leaving Lena to handle the customers upstairs. It felt like all of Pine Hills was there, buying coffee and books as if they were going out of style. I wasn't complaining about the money we were earning. In fact, I was thrilled by it. But the work that it was taking to earn said money had my feet barking and my back aching.

It didn't slow down for another hour. By then, it felt like I'd been beaten on the back with a crowbar after walking barefoot over hot coals. I was quickly beginning to wonder if I'd be mobile enough later that day to go all the way to Cherry Valley to snoop around like I'd planned. Chances were good that if lunch was as insane as breakfast, I'd be in a coma.

“Take over for me for a minute,” I told Mike. He gave me a nod as he turned to a new customer. I headed back into the kitchen to whip up some cookies. The case was barren, and I'd had to disappoint a few kids who'd come in specifically for the cookies. This seemed like it might be the only time I'd get to take care of the baking before the dreaded lunch rush.

I'm not too proud to admit it—I took longer in the kitchen than I normally would have. I mixed up the batter, placed it on the sheets in round balls, and then shoved the sheets into the oven. Then I sat on the counter to give my feet a break while I waited for the cookies to be done. It didn't appear as if I was going to get a real break anytime soon, especially since I'd have to give one to each of my employees. By the time they had their breaks and Vicki came in, it would be time for me to go. And when I left, I wasn't going home to my warm bath. This was the only moment of relaxation I was likely to get.

I was anxious to get off work, but I wouldn't leave Lena and Mike hanging just so I could run off to Cherry Valley. I didn't know where David lived, but I hoped that after investigating his workplace, I'd find out. If there was any evidence of who David Smith really was, I was positive I'd find it there.

The timer on the oven dinged. I leapt off the counter, wiped my butt down as best as I could—it was covered in flour—and removed the cookies. My stomach grumbled at the smell, so without waiting for them to cool down, I snatched one off the cookie sheet. I sucked in a breath in a vain attempt to cool the lavalike chocolate with every bite; swallowed the steaming goo, which scorched my throat all the way down; and then, satisfied I wasn't going to starve to death, carried the cookie sheet out to the front, calling “Hot cookies!” as I went.

“Oh, there you are!”

My first instinct was to vanish back into the kitchen as if I'd suddenly forgotten something, but it was already too late. I plastered on a fake smile and carried the cookies to the front display case, where I began to shovel them into place. Rita scooted down the counter so she could talk to me face-to-face.

“I've heard the most horrible of rumors,” she said, peering in at the cookies as if she didn't quite trust them.

“Really?” I asked, knowing that whether I said anything or not, she'd tell me all about it.

“I heard you were brutally attacked by one of your boyfriends out in the open where the world could see! Are you okay? He didn't cut you too deeply, did he?” She darted her head back and forth, apparently looking for a gaping wound in my scalp.

“I'm fine,” I said. “It was just a rock, and it was thrown at my front door.” I paused. “And I don't have a boyfriend.”

She waved a hand at me. “Well, I
know
that. I could tell that just by looking at you.”

It took me a moment to realize what the comment implied. “What do you mean by that?”

Another hand wave. “Never mind. I came here to let you know that we will be resuming our writers' group meetings next week. There was some talk of taking a week off after the exertions of the book club, but I said, ‘No! We have to have the meetings for those unfortunate not to be a part of the club.' Meaning you, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I hope to see you there.” She sighed dramatically. “Well, I best get going.” Rita glanced toward the menu as if she might order, but she shook her head instead. “No time for coffee today. I'll see you soon.” She waved and scurried out the front door.

Mike snorted a laugh from over by the register.

“It's not funny,” I grumbled. I carried the cooling sheet to the back, deposited it by the sink for Mike to wash, and then went out to join him.

“That was pretty crazy,” he said, leaning on the counter. His hair stuck out in every direction from beneath his hat, obscuring his eyes. It was a wonder he could see.

“She can be, yeah.”

“No, man, I mean the rush. Never seen the place so busy.” There was a gleam in what I could see of his eye, like the endless stream of customers had made his day.

“I like seeing so many people here, but I sure hope it doesn't get that busy again today.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. It was sweaty and sore and in severe need of strong hands to rub the pain away.

Mike nodded as if it was the wisest thing he'd ever heard. “True dat.”

I eyed him a moment and then shrugged. It was like he was talking in a foreign language sometimes. I at least got the gist of that one.

Lena came down the stairs with a groan. “My feet are killing me.” She rubbed at the side of her face where a fresh scrape ran across her cheekbone. It was ironic, because she never once complained about her skateboarding wounds, despite the fact that they looked far worse than a couple of sore muscles and blistered feet.

“I think we're all suffering,” I told her with a weary smile.

She came to stand on my other side. “Hey, Mike, how about you clean the tables? Some of the customers are leaving.”

“Aw, man.” Mike grabbed a rag from beneath the counter. “Whatever.” He strode out to where there were now two empty tables.

I turned toward Lena. There had been something to her tone that set alarm bells ringing in my head. I wasn't sure whether it had something to do with David Smith or something else entirely. Either way, I was anxious to hear what she had to say.

“I'd keep an eye on him,” she said at a near whisper. She nodded toward where Mike had gone.

“Who? Mike?” I asked to be sure.

“Yeah.”

My heart did a little hiccup. “Do you think he could have killed Mr. Smith?”

Lena gave me a sideways glance. “What? No.” She shook her head. “Or at least I don't think so. But I do think he's up to something. He acts weird when he thinks no one is looking. And do you notice how he likes to run the register more than anything else?”

I nodded, a frown creeping over my face. I hadn't noticed it before, but she was right; Mike was almost always working the register, even when someone else wanted to do it.

“You don't think . . .” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to voice my suspicions.

“Don't know,” Lena said. “But I thought it might be a good idea to let you know.”

I thought back to when I first started noticing the lack of funds coming into Death by Coffee, despite the uptick in business. As far as I was aware, Vicki saw nothing out of the ordinary in the books, but what if Mike was skimming from the top? Could he be cancelling orders after taking the money, shoving it in his pocket instead of the register?

My heart plummeted to my feet at the thought. If he was stealing, then not only would I have to let him go, I'd have to tell the police so it wouldn't happen again. But he did have to pay child support, which meant he was probably barely making ends meet. Could I really do that to him?

But if he
was
stealing, I couldn't let it continue, no matter how bad I felt for him.

“Thanks,” I told Lena.

“Any time.”

I started to turn away when I thought of something else. “Hey, has your key come up missing lately?”

“My key? No. Why?”

“Just wondering.” My gaze traveled to Mike. “Go ahead and head upstairs. I'll handle things down here.”

Lena hesitated only a moment before she turned and went back up into the bookstore, where a few kids were playing around in the stacks. I could hear her yell at them, though she tried to keep her voice down. From the way the kids acted toward her, I was pretty sure she knew them.

I tried to get back to work, but my eyes kept going to Mike. He lingered out among the customers, wiping down tables and chairs, as if afraid to come back to where I stood. I didn't know whether he knew that I knew what he'd been doing or if it was something else. Even when a new customer came in, his head didn't rise. He looked so forlorn, lost in his own miserable thoughts, it just about broke my heart.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. The next time he looked up, I motioned for him to join me behind the counter.

“What's up?” he asked, not meeting my eye.

“I was curious about something,” I said. “Has your key come up missing lately? Or did you let someone borrow it, perhaps?”

“What? No.” He looked genuinely upset I'd even think it. “I'm more careful than that.”

I gave him a reassuring smile. “I was just checking,” I said. “Can't be too safe.”

He made a noncommittal sound and eyed me skeptically. “That all? I have a few more tables I can scrub down.”

I almost let him go then, but I decided I couldn't do that. I had to know if what Lena said was true. “Yeah, uh, Mike.” I swallowed. This was going to be tough.

A worried expression passed over his face. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, sounding as if he was afraid I was going to fire him on the spot.

“Well . . .” I glanced toward where Lena was replacing some books that had been taken from the shelves before turning back to Mike. “I've noticed a decided lack of income lately.” My mouth went dry, and I felt myself start to blush. God, I hated this. “And you tend to work the registers, so I was wondering . . .”

Mike's jaw tensed. “Wondering what? If I took it?”

I shrugged before nodding.

“No, man, I would never.” He looked away as he said it. “That's stupid.”

“I had to ask,” I said. “You have to understand.” I could tell he wasn't happy with me, but I wasn't quite sure if his unhappiness was because of my accusation or because he'd been caught. “I want us to trust each other, but in order for that to happen, I need you to be honest with me. We can work something out if you are in need.”

“No, I'm cool.” He looked toward the ceiling. “I just want to get back to work, if that is okay with you?”

“Sure.”

He strode out to wipe down more tables. He looked miserable and I felt bad, yet it had to be done. Maybe if he had been stealing, he'd stop now that I was onto him. If he didn't, well then, I might just have to fire him. It was something I really hoped I could avoid.

The lunch rush came and went. Mike avoided me during that time, though he was forced to help at the register while I filled orders. I tried to keep an eye on him, but it wasn't easy, since I kept having to run to the back. Eventually, Vicki came in, as chipper as I'd ever seen her. I don't think there was anything on God's green earth that could have wiped the smile from her face as she joined me behind the counter.

“It's a great day,” she said, practically swooning.

I gave her a noncommittal shrug.

She hardly noticed. She swept past me and headed for the back. I followed her, feeling like a royal jerk for what I was about to do, but she deserved to know.

“Vicki?” I said, closing the door quietly behind us. The office felt cramped, which caused me to break out into a sweat. It was either that or my nerves that I was about to get what could very well be an innocent man into trouble. “Can I talk to you a sec?”

“Sure.” She pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

“It has come to my attention that Mike might, um . . .” This was almost as hard as confronting the man himself. “He might be stealing.”