The Last Ride

by Sonia Parin

  THE LAST RIDE

  A Dear Abby Cozy Mystery

  SONIA PARIN

  Copyright © 2018 Sonia Parin

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Dear Reader

  Cozy mystery readers have certain expectations, which might not appeal to readers not acquainted with the genre. I recently came across a definition of cozy mysteries which might help. “Cozy mysteries, also referred to simply as “cozies”, are a sub-genre of crime fiction mysteries in which sex and violence are downplayed or treated humorously, and the crime and detection take place in a small, socially intimate community. The crime solver is an amateur sleuth, usually but not always a woman, who is thrust into the aftermath of the murder.”

  About this book

  Eden’s local café owner, Joyce Breeland, has issued Abby Maguire an ultimatum – the small-town newspaper reporter must find the identity of the Eden Bloggess or be banned from Joyce’s café. For life! Functioning on limited coffee rations, Abby Maguire goes in search of this elusive blogger only to stumble upon a body and a mysterious inheritance. There’s a killer on the loose and he might be working his way through a list…

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Next: The Last Stop

  Chapter One

  WHEN THE DOOR TO THE Eden Rise Gazette office flung open and Faith burst in, her breath coming hard, her eyes filled with panic, she found Abby leaning back on her chair, her feet on her desk, and the edge of her lips hitched up.

  “Hey, look,” Abby said, “I’ve got a wobbly pen thing happening here. Nope, gone now. Why is it I can only do it when there’s no one around to witness it?”

  Faith flapped her arms. “She’s coming. She’s coming.”

  “She? She who?”

  “Look busy. Better still, we should lock the door and hide behind my desk.” Faith slammed the front door shut, rushed to her desk and ducked behind it.

  Abby straightened. “What are you talking about? And, where’s my coffee? Hey, did you have a Bean Me Up Scotty coffee? I warned you, Joyce Breeland’s new brew is not for the faint-hearted.” The local café owner had a penchant for springing new blends on her customers and giving them names that puzzled and amused. With or without a name, her coffee always hit the spot.

  “She didn’t give me a chance to have a coffee,” Faith wailed.

  Disturbed by the commotion, Doyle stirred and sauntered over to the front door.

  “You woke Doyle up. Now I have to get up because he wants to go out. See what you’ve done? You’ve set something into motion and I still don’t have my coffee.”

  “We might never have coffee again,” Faith whispered. “And what are you waiting for? Hide.”

  “For heavens’ sake. Who’s coming?”

  Faith whispered the name but the banging on the Eden Rise Gazette front door drowned out her voice.

  “Hey, it’s Joyce.” Abby waved. Then, she noticed Joyce’s pursed lips. The café owner meant business.

  “Open up,” Joyce bellowed in her no-nonsense tone.

  When Doyle scurried behind the desk, Faith said, “At least Doyle has the good sense to hide.”

  “Honestly, this town is getting weirder by the day.” Abby had been living in the small town of Eden for a couple of months now and, apart from a few glitches, loving every minute of it. “Maybe it’s this fresh mountain air. And when is it going to rain? I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Seattle’s rain. It keeps you on your toes.” Abby rose to her feet and stretched.

  Joyce Breeland banged on the door again.

  The owner of the local café wore a 1950s Mrs. Beaver style floral dress cinched at the waist, bright red lipstick and her shoulder length chocolate brown hair gathered into a neat ponytail. “Hang on. It looks like Joyce is actually going for the Gidget look today.”

  “Don’t open the door,” Faith warned.

  “Why?” Abby asked.

  “Can’t you see she’s on the warpath?”

  Abby frowned. “When I first arrived in Eden, you told me she was harmless.”

  “On a good day,” Faith said. “Today isn’t one of those. She has a bee in her bonnet. Make that a hornet’s nest.”

  Seeing Joyce wagging a finger at her, Abby sighed. “Do we, by any chance, need to install a panic room in here?”

  “That wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “Okay, brace yourself. I’m about to let the tornado in.”

  “Yikes!”

  Abby imagined Faith had curled up into a tight ball under her desk. She opened the door and gave Joyce her most amiable smile. “Hello, Joyce. What brings you out here on this bright, sunny day and… where’s my coffee?”

  “I want to place an ad,” Joyce huffed out. “This has gone on far enough. I’m offering a year’s supply of free coffee to the person who uncovers the identity of the Eden Bloggess.”

  Abby drew out a chair. “Take the weight off and let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I want her caught. Did you see what she posted today?” Joyce held up her cell phone.

  “I can’t read it. Can you enlarge it, please?”

  Joyce rounded Abby’s desk and made use of her desktop computer. “Here. Is this big enough for you?”

  Abby read the blog and smiled. “Hey, that’s a nice promotion for your café.”

  Joyce slammed her fisted hands against her hips and read, “Enter at your own risk?”

  Abby leaned down and read the rest. “Because you never know what you’re going to get. The culinary delights on offer—”

  “That part is in small print,” Joyce complained.

  “Yes, but it is there for people to read.” Abby knew the reasonable argument wouldn’t register in Joyce’s mind. As far as Joyce was concerned, she had been hard done by.

  “It’s there to be read but only if the reader gets past the warning. Do you have any idea how many people only read the headlines? It’s the one impression that stays with them. Anyone in the world could be reading this.” Joyce’s arms sprung out. “I’ll be the butt of everyone’s jokes in town. This will ruin me.”

  Abby tilted her head. “Ruin you? Because you want to be taken seriously or because…” She didn’t want to say Joyce thrived on the power she wielded in town. No other coffee compared to Joyce’s coffee or extensive menu. Abby had never seen anything quite so unique and she knew she couldn’t go a day without sampling some of it.

  “I have a reputation to uphold in this town,” Joyce continued.

  “I honestly don’t see what harm she’s doing. Actually, from what you’ve told me, we don’t even know if it’s a woman.”

&nbs
p; Joyce gave a brisk shake of her head. “Bradford is the only man I know capable of putting pen to paper and he wouldn’t do this to me.”

  Are you sure? Abby couldn’t help wondering but she knew better than to voice her opinion.

  Joyce pushed out a frustration filled breath. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Joyce’s eyebrow quirked up. “But you thought it. I know you did.”

  Okay, she had. In truth, Abby knew Bradford Mills, the owner of the local antique store and Joyce’s fiancé, wouldn’t dare play such a prank. He simply didn’t have the knack for making waves. The fact he had asked Joyce Breeland to marry him mystified Abby because the man lived for the pleasure of quiet solitude and Joyce… Well, Joyce was anything but quiet.

  Joyce took a step toward her, bringing her almost toe to toe with her. “These inflammatory articles have been running for two years. I need them to stop.” Hearing Faith’s snicker, Joyce swung around. “Faith, come out from behind that desk. What do you mean by running away from me? Anyone would think I’ve grown an extra head.”

  Faith peered at her from behind the desk. “You are scary when you’re on the warpath.”

  “Okay,” Abby said, her tone conciliatory. “Let’s all calm down. What exactly do you want from the Gazette?”

  Joyce swung back around to face her. “A full-page ad. Yes. I want the front page. I don’t care what it costs.”

  “A year’s supply of free coffee for the office staff?” Abby asked.

  “But… that’s the bounty I’ve set. What incentive will you have to look for this… this troublemaker?”

  Abby smiled. “Oh, I see. You want me to find her.”

  Joyce gave a stiff nod. “Yes, after all, you are a reporter.”

  “I’m a lifestyle reporter, not an investigative journalist. When will people understand that? There is a difference.”

  Doyle sighed and strode out of the office to sit on the pavement.

  “Don’t stray too far, Doyle,” Abby called out.

  “Are you going to take me seriously?” Joyce demanded.

  Abby grabbed a pen and notebook. “Full-page ad,” she wrote.

  “Reward printed in big letters. Or should that be Bounty?” Joyce shook her head. “No, make it Reward, in a Western style font.”

  “Alive or dead?” Faith chirped.

  Ignoring her, Joyce continued, “I’d like you to include a bullet point list of her crimes.”

  Abby set her notebook down. “She hasn’t actually committed any.”

  Joyce lifted her chin in defiance.

  “Okay. Do you have any idea what she looks like?”

  “I wouldn’t have come to you if I did. She probably looks like a regular person.” Her eyebrows drew down. “Actually, I haven’t noticed anyone looking suspicious so she must have the ability to blend in. She could be a spy.”

  Abby set down the notebook again. “She or he has been posting about the café in his or her blog for two years. All this time, he or she has been coming to your café.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Joyce said.

  “How else would she know so much about what goes on in the café? You know everyone who comes in for coffee. You’ve spoken with her, I’m sure you have. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  Joyce gave it some thought. “No.”

  That surprised Abby. Everyone went to Joyce Breeland’s café and that gave her an enviable advantage. If anything, new happened in town, she was always the first to hear about it. “Can you think of anyone who started showing up two years ago?”

  “I don’t wish to point my finger of suspicion at just anyone.” Joyce tapped a finger against her chin. “There is one customer who comes in every now and then but she keeps to herself.”

  “Surely you’ve engaged her in conversation.” Abby knew Joyce had a knack for delving and for eventually finding out everything she could about everyone who came into her café.

  “Her name is Kinsley Roberts. That’s all I can tell you and only because I got some of her mail by mistake. We were having a busy day and I couldn’t take the time out to go to the post office to return it. We posted a note at the café, she saw it and that’s how I even know her name.”

  “Great. So, you have her address. That’s a start.”

  Joyce shifted and looked away. “As a matter of fact, no. I didn’t want to be perceived as being intrusive so I didn’t have a close look. As I said, she tends to keep to herself and, at the time, I had no reason to suspect her.”

  “Okay, so the address must have been similar to yours.”

  Joyce shook her head. “You know I get a lot of magazines posted to me. I guess it got mixed up.” Sighing, she added, “Okay, so I might have had a tiny look. It was a postal box address. You could ask at the store. I think Kinsley Roberts might come into town to check for mail and then she drops in at the café.”

  “Are you about to suggest I hang around the café and then follow her?”

  Joyce shrugged. “Isn’t that what sleuths do? I only need you to find some incriminating evidence, and if you print a full-page ad, then everyone can become involved in the hunt.”

  Abby tried not to roll her eyes. “The issue doesn’t come out for another five days. Can you wait that long?” she asked hoping it would be long enough for Joyce to cool down and come to her senses.

  “I suppose I’ll have to. Meanwhile, I’ll make do with this poster. I’d like some copies printed please. They need to be posted around town.”

  Abby sighed.

  “What?”

  Where to begin, Abby thought. “I’m a little concerned this might stir things up. Worst case scenario, people might start pointing fingers at just about anyone to get some free coffee.”

  “The people of Eden are far too sensible to do that.” Joyce held up her poster. “I expect a copy to be put up here at the Gazette.” Satisfied she had achieved her goal, Joyce left.

  “It’s not going to work,” Faith warned. “The Eden Bloggess has almost become a myth. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joyce is responsible for posting those articles on the blog herself.”

  Abby had read a few entries and had been mystified how someone could remain anonymous and yet know so much about everyone. “She’s probably right under Joyce’s nose.” Abby grabbed Doyle’s leash.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “To scout the area. The Eden Bloggess might have set herself up across the street with one of those long range telescopic listening devices.”

  “That’s good thinking.”

  Abby frowned. “I was kidding. I’m taking Doyle for a walk.” She strode off muttering under her breath, “Telescopic listening devices. As if such a thing even exists…” Abby looked down at Doyle. “Actually, I think they do exist, but who would go to such trouble just to eavesdrop on gossipy conversations?”

  ***

  “I’LL HAVE A BEAN ME Up Scotty to go, please.” Abby bent down and gave Doyle a scratch behind the ears. He’d enjoyed his stroll around the small town and had balked at the idea of returning to the Gazette so soon, so Abby had decided to stop for a coffee at Joyce’s Café. With the morning rush hour still in full swing, she figured she wouldn’t be cornered again by Joyce.

  “I should warn you, you’ve been temporarily blacklisted.”

  Abby looked up at Belle Murphy. The young server leaned over the counter and smiled at her. Abby straightened. “Blacklisted?”

  Belle nodded. “Not exactly blacklisted. You’ve been put on limited rations. One coffee a day to get you going in your investigation. Joyce issued the order a moment ago.”

  Abby looked around the café. “Where is she?”

  “She’s in the backroom doing the books and asked not to be disturbed.”

  “One? One coffee? How am I supposed to function?” Abby shook off the kneejerk shock. She lived at the pub and had breakfast there. Luckily, they served Joyce’s blend of coffee, but Joyce’s coffee had an ex
tra kick...

  Belle shrugged. “She murmured something about you needing some incentive. I guess you’ll have to find a way around her embargo, which includes all the staff at the Gazette.”

  “But there are only two of us. Are you saying Faith can’t come in for coffee either?”

  Belle lowered her voice. “You could enlist some co-conspirators. You know, go underground. I’ll try to help whenever I can.”

  “Fine. Make it a double. No, wait. Make it a triple in an extra-large cup.” She looked up at the menu board and studied the different sizes. “Make it a tub.”

  “That’ll work too. Coming right up.”

  “Actually, I’ll need two coffees. One for me and one for Faith.” Abby smiled. “I have to keep my staff happy.”

  Someone behind her pushed out a hard breath. Turning, she saw Bradford Mills shaking his head.

  Tall, lanky and dressed in his usual khaki hunting jacket, the ex-warzone reporter and Joyce’s fiancé acknowledged her greeting with a small nod.

  Abby grinned. “Have you heard about Joyce’s latest caper?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I wonder where she gets her energy from.” He set his mouth into a grim line. “I guess you have your work cut out for you.”

  “Yep. She hasn’t given me much of a choice.” Abby tilted her head in thought. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me out? I can’t possibly get through the day on one cup of coffee alone.” The coffee at the pub would be enough to get her into gear, but they only served coffee. At Joyce’s, Abby could indulge in the Midnight Express, or the Rise and Shine Before the Sun Comes Up… There were endless options.

  Bradford looked at her without blinking. His lips barely moved when he spoke. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Abby gave a small shrug. “Faith and I can’t work without sustenance. You could order the occasional coffee or two for us and sneak them into the Gazette.”

  “You want me to risk losing my coffee privileges? Being her fiancé doesn’t give me automatic immunity.” His jaw muscle twitched. After a few moments, he gave a small nod. “Things have been a bit quiet around here. Yeah, sure. I’m game.”