by Gina LaManna
Special Thanks:
To Alex and Leo and Max—You boys are my world. я тебя люблю!
To my family—I love you!
To Stacia—Not only my editor but a best friend as well.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
NAIL ON THE HEAD
First edition. September 1, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Gina LaManna.
Written by Gina LaManna.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note
Cheers with our pumpkin spice lattes.
Blurb
PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES are in the air... and so is murder. When Detective Kate Rosetti is handed her latest case—a dead body covered in leaves along the side of the road—there’s something peculiar about it. A broken heart is carved into the man’s arm. It seems to be a foreboding warning that love can be deadly.
The deeper Kate gets into the investigation, the more she’s forced to face love and murder like never before. Her personal life becomes equally as complicated. A shocking wedding invitation arrives in the mail. Jack Russo is putting the pressure on Kate about taking the next step in their relationship. A new cop is hired on at the precinct. But when every love story seems to end tragically in Kate’s newest case, how can she believe in happily ever after?
Chapter 1
“HERE YOU GO, KATE.”
I reached for the latte at the end of the counter and thanked Elizabeth for the drink. My mother was behind the register casting shifty glances in my direction. Reluctantly, I popped the lid off my coffee and lifted it close to my face, taking a sniff.
“Mom.” I fixed her with a stern glare. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a pumpkin spice sort of girl?”
“Honey—”
“No,” I said. “You’re not going to change my mind. It’s just one of those things.”
“Sorry.” Elizabeth gave me an apologetic wrinkle of her nose. “I know how much you don’t like it, but your mom’s my boss, and she told me to make you a pumpkin spice latte, so...”
“Not your fault,” I said, slapping the lid back on my cup and turning to my mother. “Why are you so determined for me to like pumpkin spice lattes?”
It was seven in the morning on a Wednesday in early September. My mother’s coffee shop, the Seventh Street Café, was mostly empty at this hour except for a few regulars. Three older gentlemen sat in the corner playing rummy over their croissants and coffee. They were completely uninterested in a conversation about pumpkin spice lattes.
Every once in a while, a police officer would stop in to get their daily caffeine fix. With a prime location right next to the building that housed the TC Task Force, my mother’s main clientele were cops and the locals who’d lived here forever. Her coffee shop was neither fancy nor extraordinarily sophisticated, and that was what I liked about it. Usually.
“It’s not that I’m tied to pumpkin spice.” My mother cinched her apron a little tighter around her waist and reached to dust off a bit of flour on her cheek. “You could try the caramel pecan latte. I toast the pecans myself and make my own infused-flavored syrups. Or there’s my personal favorite, the maple syrup latte. I source all of our maple syrup locally, and there’s this bourbon-infused version that’s to die for.”
“What’s wrong with a regular old latte? I don’t need the fancy favors.”
“Oh, Kate. Come on, honey. It’s fall. It wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit festive,” my mother said. “Go pick an apple or something. Grab a pumpkin from the patch and set it outside your house.”
“Why? Nobody visits my house.”
“In all the years you’ve lived alone, have you ever once handed out candy on Halloween?”
I crossed my arms. “You’re making me sound like the Grinch.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“I’m usually working!” I noted I was starting to sound a little defensive. “Last year there was that body in the lake by your house at the end of October. The year before that I was helping out with an armed-robbery case.”
“I just think it would help.”
“Help with what?”
“You’re entering the next phase of your life,” my mother said, eyeing me carefully. “What does Jack think of you being the Grinch?”
“I’m not the Grinch.”
“I bet Jack Russo hands out candy on Halloween,” my mother said. “He probably strings up a Christmas light or two. I’m trying to help you with your relationship.”
“If picking apples and setting pumpkins out were the magical cure to a happy relationship, I don’t think the divorce rate would be at fifty percent.”
The bell jingled behind me. I stepped aside, as someone entered the coffee shop, to let them order.
My mother sighed, not ready to give up. “What if you have kids? You can’t be ditching every holiday to spend time with a corpse. Yes, sir? How can I help you?”
The man standing at the counter was not a regular. He gave me a skeptical look, and it was only after a few minutes that I realized why.
“I’m a cop,” I said quickly, realizing he probably hadn’t been able to tell by my uniform of dark jeans, a tank top, and today’s salmon-colored blazer. “That’s why I spend time with dead bodies. I mean, it’s a figure of speech. Actually, just go ahead and order. I’m just chatting.”
As my mother took the newcomer’s coffee order, I backed away from the counter with my latte. I tried to make eye contact with Elizabeth to see if she’d secretly make me a plain latte, but she was already focused on the new guy’s order. I sighed when my phone rang. I recognized my partner’s number.
“Hey, Jimmy,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Do you remember when we ate at that new barbecue place a couple weeks ago? I got that delicious pork sandwich because they were all sold out of the other one, but they gave me a free side of slaw?”
“Yeah, but why is that important on a Wednesday morning before eight a.m.?”
“It looks like you and I have a lunch date there.”
“Okay. I’m not arguing, but I am curious.”
“A body turned up a block away from that new complex on West Seventh.”
“Over by Keg & Case?”
“That’s the one,” Jimmy said. “I figure we go check out the scene, do what we can, then stop off for an early barbecue lunch.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Are you at your mom’s place?” Jimmy asked. “Can you grab me some caffeine?”
I gave a sad glance down at my pumpkin spice latte. “Consider it done.”
By the time I hung up with Jimmy, the morning rush at the café seemed officially underway. A line of four people curved toward the door. There was no hope of catching Elizabeth’s eye anymore, let alone getting a private word in edgewise with my mother. With another sigh, I let myself out of the shop and hopped into my car.
Then I headed to meet my partner, a dead body, and a big slab of cornbread for lunch.
WHEN I ARRIVED AT THE scene, a couple of officers from the local precinct who I recognized were already there. A small area had already been roped off. I checked in with the officer on duty and stepped beneath the caution tape.
I found Jimmy standing near the body. His arms were crossed, and he watched Melinda work. Melinda Brooks, the medical examiner, and one of my closest friends, didn’t look up at my arrival. She’d obviously just arrived and was in the early stages of checking out our latest victim.
“Here,” I said, handing over the latte to Jimmy. “Do you think I’m the Grinch?”
Jimmy turned to look at me. “How literal are we talking here? I mean, your heart could grow a few sizes if you wanted it to, but I don’t see a physical resemblance if that makes you feel any better.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not green and hairy? Gee, thanks.”
“Where’s your drink?”
I cleared my throat.
“Aw, you didn’t have to give me yours,” Jimmy said. “I’m not going to catch Kate-cooties from this, am I?”
“I got the vaccination against cooties in first grade.”
Jimmy shrugged and took a sip. At the first taste, he grinned like I’d given him a hundred bucks. “Is this pumpkin spice? I’m way too embarrassed to order one of these for myself, but they’re damn good. Probably my favorite on the menu. One of the reasons I love this season.”
“Am I the only person who doesn’t need a seasonal drink to get in the spirit of fall?”
“Probably.”
“When do you retire again?” I shot back at Jimmy. “I forgot to take a link off the paper chain this morning.”
“While I appreciate the Kate and Jimmy Morning Show,” Melinda said, standing and straightening, “I’m wondering if either of you are interested in hearing how our body ended up here on this fine Wednesday morning.”
I frowned. “Are you a pumpkin spice lover?”
Melinda grinned at me. “You should know this by now, pumpkin.”
“What happened?” I nodded at the body.
“We caught this one fresh,” Melinda said. “A morning jogger noticed the body. The victim wasn’t killed on-site. He was dumped here.”
“The guy who found the body was probably jogging to get a pumpkin spice latte at Keg & Case,” Jimmy muttered to me. “Just saying.”
“I’m not sure, but you can ask your witness,” Melinda said with a smile. “They’re still interviewing the jogger down the block. He’s a local, lives a few blocks away. He said he was running on the grass next to the curb. No sidewalk on this street. He didn’t see the body and tripped over an arm.”
“Didn’t see the body?” I glanced around. “How was he hidden? Obviously not buried.”
We were on a side street not too far from my house. These were definitely my stomping grounds, though seeing as I wasn’t a runner—unless I was being chased—I’d never walked down this particular street before. Like the rest of my neighborhood, the area boasted a mix of small, older houses that were mostly held together by duct tape and a lot of prayers.
Intermixed with the residential areas were several more industrial-type zones. A few abandoned buildings had recently been purchased. More and more new restaurants and fancy coffee shops were being added along this street, bringing in a new wave of younger residents. It was an impressive dichotomy of old and new, young and old, hip and dilapidated.
“Maybe you’d know that if you were more in the fall spirit.” Melinda winked at Jimmy, clearly proud she’d cracked the joke. “He was buried in leaves. Some of the local officers who got here first have started bagging up the leaves near him in case we can pull any particulates out of the pile. Hair, fibers, whatever.”
Sure enough, the street bustled with dry leaves. The sun was starting to really shine, and the brush of sunlight against the cool morning breeze was a crisp reminder that autumn was well and truly on its way.
The sound of cracking leaves being shoved into bags was almost enough to tempt me into taking my mother up on her offer of a seasonal drink. Despite her accusations, I did love the fall season. I was pretty sure there wasn’t a single person in Minnesota who didn’t love the intersection between summer and winter, the last bittersweet days before the nasty frost settled in and tucked locals into hibernation for a long, long season of darkness.
“Funny,” I said. “Okay. Our killer was obviously not trying very hard to hide the body. It was probably just a quick cover-up. Which would make me guess that he was either in a hurry, or he just didn’t care when we discovered this guy.”
Melinda raised a finger. “Normally I would agree with you, but this time, I’m going to have to stop you there. While I can’t say for certain that our killer wasn’t in a hurry, I don’t think that’s necessarily the case.”
“Why?” I frowned. “What makes you say that?”
Melinda beckoned me over. “There’s no ID on the body, but from what I can tell, we’ve got a male, probably in his mid-thirties. His wallet is on him, and it seems the only thing that’s been removed is the ID. A hundred bucks in cash is still there.”
“Lunch is on this guy, then?” Jimmy asked. When neither Melinda nor I laughed, he grumbled, “I guess funny hour is over. What’s got you thinking our killer wasn’t in a hurry, Doc?”
Melinda ushered us even closer. With her gloved hands, she gently turned over our mystery man’s arm so that the inside of his bicep was exposed. I crouched next to her and got a good view of a gory little emblem carved into his skin. It was a broken heart—two halves with a jagged break right down the middle.
“This wasn’t the cause of death, obviously,” Melinda said. “While I hate to make assumptions, I’m thinking I’ll end up ruling the cause of death to be the bullet wound to the chest.”
“That would do it,” I agreed. “The cut on his arm—do you think it was done postmortem?”
“I won’t make a call on that until I get him on my table,” Melinda said. “But I have a theory.”
“Care to share?”
Melinda exhaled sharply. “This is not official. But based on the accurate lines of the cut and the lack of bleeding from the wound, I’m going to guess yes. I doubt this man would have sat there quietly while someone tattooed him with the edge of a knife.”
“Fair,” I said. “Could he have been drugged?”
“We’ll run a tox screen. It’s always a possibility until ruled out,” Melinda said. “He wasn’t killed here, but it’s possible the mark was made here. I won’t know the rest until the labs come back.”
“Why dump the body here?” Jimmy asked. “If this was chosen as a drop site, it seems pretty random to me. Why not toss him in a lake? Or drive out to the woods and leave him for the animals? Just seems weird.”
“We’ve got a killer who cuts up their victims,” I said, “and their choice of drop spot is what’s getting to you?”
Melinda stifled a laugh. “Well, he does have a point, Kate.”
“I agree,” I said. “I also think that our killer is trying to send a message through this little tattoo. The question is what is he trying to say?”
“This is where we temporarily part ways,” Melinda said. “The two of you can get started on your theories. I have a lot of work to do here today. I won’t get to the autopsy until tomorrow morning. We’ll get labs and everything else started as soon as we can.”
“Keep us posted when you find something,” I said. “Thanks, Melinda.”
“I’ll take one of those barbecue sandwiches for lunch,” Melinda said with a wink at Jimmy. “You’ve only been talking about them for the last three weeks. You can leave it in the fridge at the office.”
Taking that as our cue that we were dismissed, Jimmy and I made our way to the officers who were interviewing the runner who’d stumbled across the body. We listened in for a few minutes, but it was clear that Jason Wicks, the runner, was shaken up
and nervous. He kept repeating the same things over and over again.
I introduced myself to a nearby cop with a notepad in hand. “Has this guy said anything except about how he tripped over the body?”
The cop shook his head. “Melinda said the body hasn’t been here long. She was reluctant to give an estimate, but she said probably not more than an hour or two.”
I thanked the cop, then Jimmy and I began a slow walk across the street toward our parked cars.
“So, what do you say about grabbing—” Jimmy started.
I raised a hand. “If you say lunch, I am going to be impressed.”
Jimmy looked stumped. “Well, then I’ve got nothing.”
“It’s not even nine in the morning. I don’t even think the place is open.”
“They open at ten,” Jimmy said. “It’d be a shame to have driven all this way and not leave with a sandwich.”
“We drove about four minutes.”
“Like I said, a cryin’ shame.”
I sighed. “There’s still that coffee shop in Keg & Case, isn’t there? If the answer is yes, I need a coffee. We can get started on the investigation while we wait for your sandwich.”
“That’s my girl. I knew you’d see things my way.”
Chapter 2
FORTUNATELY, THE KIND people at the hipster coffee shop inside Keg & Case didn’t argue when I veered away from the seasonal drink portion of the menu. They didn’t even bat an eye. I happily grabbed my plain old coffee and met Jimmy at the table where he was still nursing his PSL.
“Good,” Jimmy said when I sat across from him. “Now can we have a normal conversation?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I settled into a hard metal chair that fit the décor of the large, industrial-sized space. It was all cement floors and exposed wooden beams and felt very old-meets-new, a perfect fit for the neighborhood.
“All this talk about being the Grinch.” Jimmy eyed me carefully. “You only get all in your head and introspective about stuff like that when you’ve been talking to your mother.”