by Jinty James
“I thought I’d get here as soon as I could to help,” he replied, his gaze now encompassing the two of them and becoming more businesslike. “If there’s another homicide, I might be called out, even if it’s my day off.”
“This is the first murder we’ve had since I moved here,” Lauren replied.
“Good to know.” He nodded. “How long have you been going to church?”
Lauren frowned at the question. “On and off for the last few months. Why?”
“Just wondering.” He shrugged. “This morning, Pastor Mike kept telling me how great your café is.”
“That’s because Ed makes the pastries,” Lauren said loyally.
“They are good,” Zoe said dreamily. “He works Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, and now Wednesdays as well, if you ever want to stop in for one, detective.”
“Zoe!” Lauren hissed. Her cousin sounded a little like an infomercial.
“That chocolate cupcake I had was amazing,” he said.
Lauren blushed.
“Lauren makes the cupcakes,” Zoe informed him. “But you have to try the vanilla ones – they’re super awesome!”
The detective’s eyes lit up. “I love a good hit of vanilla.”
“You do?” Lauren glanced at him in surprise.
“Lauren only uses the best bourbon vanilla beans and extract. Did you know she adds vanilla seeds to the cake batter as well?”
“Zoe!” Lauren’s voice was barely an undertone.
“Now I have to try one,” Mitch said, his eyes gleaming.
“We’ll be open on Tuesday.” Zoe grinned.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Lauren didn’t know where to look – but she knew looking into his dark brown eyes would be far too dangerous. She edged away from him again, leaving Zoe in the middle, and attempted to concentrate on painting her section of wall.
She didn’t succeed.
Not at all.
She kept sneaking glances at the man despite her best intentions not to. Once, Zoe caught her gaze and winked, a mischievous smile on her face. Great.
Sixty torturous minutes later, they were interrupted by Ms. Tobin, her slender form encased in a tan pantsuit and not a speck of paint on her.
Lauren was glad for any interruption – it meant she could focus on something else besides the detective’s presence.
“What are you girls doing over here?” the older lady asked them.
“This is where Pastor Mike told us to work,” Zoe replied, putting down her paintbrush. “We didn’t see you when we came in.”
“That’s because I was over there,” Ms. Tobin gestured to the other side of the church where several people wielded paintbrushes. “I was one of the first to arrive.”
“I’m sure Pastor Mike appreciates your support,” Lauren said.
“Why, yes, he does.” The older woman’s expression softened for an instant. “He personally thanked me this morning.”
Lauren racked her brains for something to say. Perhaps she shouldn’t mention Ms. Tobin being unwell earlier that week. She cast Zoe a help me out look.
Zoe returned her cousin’s glance with one of her own: I’ve got nothing.
“You’re welcome to help us here,” Mitch’s voice broke the awkward silence. “As you can see, we’ve got a lot of church to cover.” He motioned toward the expanse of wall that needed painting.
“Thank you, detective,” Ms. Tobin replied, standing taller, “But I was just on my way home. Pastor Mike said I’ve gone beyond the call of duty today,” she added with pride.
“See you at the café,” Lauren called after her, hoping her voice sounded cheery.
“Phew!” Zoe pretended to wipe her brow once Ms. Tobin was out of earshot. “I never know what to say to her.”
“Me neither,” Lauren said ruefully. “But we can’t afford to offend any of our customers.”
“Do you know her well?” Mitch asked curiously, dipping his brush into the paint can.
“No.” Lauren shook her head. “But she seems to like Annie.”
“But I don’t think Annie has ever sat at the table with her.”
“Does your cat sit with all your customers?” he asked.
“Only the ones she likes.” Zoe giggled.
“But she shows all the customers to their table,” Lauren added loyally.
“She sounds unique.” He stroked paint onto the wall.
“She is,” Lauren replied.
They painted in silence for a while, apart from the sounds of the brushes swishing against the clapboard. Lauren eventually relaxed – mostly – in Mitch’s presence. It came as a surprise when Zoe put down her paintbrush and pointed to the late afternoon sun sinking toward the horizon.
“You’ve done a great job.” Pastor Mike suddenly appeared, beaming.
“Thanks!” Zoe replied.
“There’s only a little more to do and then the whole church is finished.” There was a paint smudge on the pastor’s other cheek now. “I can’t believe so many people came to help today.”
“You should,” Lauren told him.
“Everyone likes going to your church,” Zoe commented, before guilt flashed across her face. “Lauren and I are coming tomorrow,”’ she added brightly.
“Wonderful.” The pastor’s gaze took in the section of wall they’d painted. “The three of you have got a lot done – you’ve really worked hard.”
“Mitch started before us,” Lauren felt impelled to say.
“But I couldn’t have done all this on my own,” Mitch remarked.
“We’re going to pack up now,” Pastor Mike informed them. “I’ll be able to finish off the painting when I’ve got some spare time next week.”
“I can stay a little longer and get more done,” Mitch offered.
“That would be truly appreciated,” Pastor Mike informed him, a smile wreathing across his face.
“We can stay as well.” Zoe nudged Lauren.
“Yes.” Lauren nodded, not sure if she actually wanted to stay any longer. Not when her nerves thrummed whenever Mitch looked her way.
“I’ll have to buy Annie a little toy to say thank you for letting you stay,” Pastor Mike offered.
“I’m sure she’d love that,” Lauren replied. “But it’s not necessary. We’re happy to help.”
“Mrs. Finch bought her one recently and she plays with it all the time,” Zoe put in.
“Not that she doesn’t already have toys,” Lauren added hastily when she felt Mitch’s interested gaze on her. She didn’t want him – or the pastor – to think she was a bad cat mom and didn’t provide Annie with any playthings.
“But she loves receiving new ones.” Zoe grinned.
Once Pastor Mike departed, they returned to work. Lauren could hear the pastor’s voice in the background, thanking each individual for their effort. Soon, the church grounds emptied, until it was only the three of them, or so Lauren surmised.
Zoe finally put down her brush with a splatter. “I’m pooped – oops! I didn’t get anyone, did I?” Cream paint drops littered the grass.
“No.” Lauren shook her head.
“No,” Mitch replied. “You two go home and I can finish up here.”
“Are you sure?” Lauren asked. His short brown hair was a little mussed and several dabs of paint decorated his denim shirt, but Lauren thought that made him look even more attractive. He looked like he was capable of working for a few more hours.
“Sure.” He nodded.
They said goodbye, Lauren aware of how disheveled she must look after at least four hours of painting.
The further they walked away from the church, the more relaxed she felt.
“I think he likes you,” Zoe sing-songed.
“I don’t want to hear.” Lauren clapped her hands over her ears, as if she were in elementary school.
Zoe giggled, then sobered. “Do you think that was weird seeing Ms. Tobin there this afternoon?”
“Not really,” Lauren replied.
&nb
sp; “But I didn’t see her at church last week. Did you?”
“No. But she told me a few days ago that she hadn’t been feeling well – stomach flu. She might have had it last weekend.”
“Huh.” Zoe continued to walk alongside Lauren. “How did she keep her outfit so pristine? Everyone I saw had splodges of paint on them.” She looked down at her shirt which was covered with paint splatters. “Like me.”
“I have no idea,” Lauren said ruefully, noticing a new patch of cream paint on her t-shirt.
“I wonder why she’s so dour all the time?” Zoe drew in her breath. “You don’t think she killed Steve, do you?” Her eyes widened. “What if her stomach flu was actually belladonna poisoning?”
“What?” Lauren halted.
“She could have tested the poison on herself first, to make sure it worked!”
“Wouldn’t that have killed her instead of upsetting her stomach?” Lauren frowned.
“I don’t know.” Zoe shrugged. “I haven’t researched the effects of belladonna, because I’m not a murderer.”
“But why on earth would she kill Steve? Did they even know each other?”
“I haven’t seen them together. But someone killed him and an arrest hasn’t been made so far, has it?”
“No,” Lauren confirmed. “If someone had been charged with Steve’s murder, it would be all over the café in minutes.”
CHAPTER 9
The next day, Lauren and Zoe attended the morning church service.
“I don’t see him,” Zoe muttered, craning her head to check out the congregation sitting in the pews.
“Who?” Lauren asked.
“The detective – Mitch,” Zoe whispered.
“Why would he come to church?”
“Because he likes you, silly. And he knows you’re going to be here.”
“Don’t say that,” Lauren muttered, picking up a bible and focusing her gaze on a passage about a shepherd and his flock. She’d been trying not to think about Mitch since she’d returned home from the painting bee and she’d succeeded – mostly.
Now, Zoe’s comment made her look around the church to see who’d attended, but to her disappointment, she realized her cousin was right.
Pastor Mike thanked everyone again during the service for helping at the painting bee yesterday, proudly telling them that the work was now finished.
Warmth flickered through her at the thought that Mitch had stayed to complete the painting.
After the service, Zoe tugged on Lauren’s hand. “We can go to the grocery store down the street, and then visit Mrs. Finch.”
“Okay.”
They trooped into the grocery store, Zoe making a beeline for the coffee aisle.
“These.” She held up a red box of coffee pods. “Or should I buy these?” She picked up a navy box. “But they might be too strong for her.”
They finally decided on a box of pods that boasted they were mild with a rounded balance.
“I don’t think Mrs. Finch has ever ordered a coffee at the café,” Lauren mused as they left the store.
“I’m sure she’ll like these.” Zoe waved the box in the air. “Ooh, we might be able to try them ourselves at her house – for testing purposes only, of course.”
Lauren chuckled as they walked a few blocks to Mrs. Finch’s.
“When we get the coffee machine working, we can go home and have lunch.” Zoe yawned. “After all that painting yesterday, and church this morning, I think I’ll have a nice relaxing afternoon doing nothing.”
“I feel the same way,” Lauren admitted. “I don’t know if I even want to get in a few rows of knitting.”
“I’m determined to finish Annie’s blanket,” Zoe said. “But maybe I’ll have a break from it today.”
They knocked on Mrs. Finch’s front door.
A couple of minutes later, the door opened.
“Oh my,” the elderly lady greeted them. “I’m very fortunate today with visitors.” Her pink lipstick was a little smudged but otherwise she looked well put together. Her gray hair was in a neat bun, and her outfit consisted of an olive colored skirt and oyster hued blouse.
“We wanted to check that you were okay,” Lauren said. “We missed you at the café yesterday.”
“And we brought you some coffee pods.” Zoe held up the box. “So we can get your espresso machine working.”
“You’re very kind,” the senior told them. “I’m afraid I slept in yesterday, and by the time I was ready to visit you girls, I thought you might be closing a little early to help Pastor Mike at the church.”
“We did,” Zoe said. “We were slammed with customers early – and then they all left at once!”
“How did the painting go?” Mrs. Finch asked. “Oh, please come in.”
“Everyone pitched in and Pastor Mike announced this morning that it’s all done,” Lauren said, following her down the hallway, Zoe on her heels.
Mrs. Finch clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! Wait until I tell Pamela.”
“Pamela?” Lauren and Zoe chorused.
“Yes. She came for a little visit. Although we’re backyard neighbors, we don’t see each other often – she’s so busy working at the church and steering her various committees.”
“But I thought she was out of town this weekend,” Zoe muttered out of the side of her mouth to Lauren.
“Me, too,” Lauren whispered.
“Hello, girls.” Pamela looked surprised to see them as she rose from the sofa in the living room.
“Hi,” Lauren said politely.
“Did you hear that we repainted the church yesterday?” Zoe’s gaze zeroed in on Pamela. “A lot of people turned up to help Pastor Mike.”
“That’s wonderful,” Pamela replied.
“I thought you were out of town this weekend,” Zoe blurted.
“Oh, yes.” Pamela gave a tinkly little laugh. “I was in Sacramento yesterday, visiting my daughter. And I was planning to return home tonight. But my daughter got a call from work at eight o’clock this morning – some crisis apparently – and everyone had to go in on their day off. There was no point me staying any longer, so I decided to come home.”
“We didn’t see you at church this morning,” Zoe continued.
Lauren nudged her cousin in the ribs.
“I was too late for the service. And I didn’t want to disturb Pastor Mike in the middle of his sermons – he gives such good ones, doesn’t he? So I thought I’d visit Mrs. Finch instead, and practice what Pastor Mike preaches about helping your neighbor.”
“Why don’t you sit down, girls?” Mrs. Finch gestured to the sofa. “There’s plenty of room for everyone here.”
“Thank you.” Lauren sat.
“We came to fix your coffee machine.” Zoe flopped down next to Lauren and showed Mrs. Finch the box of pods she’d bought. “I bet I can get it working for you.”
“Coffee machine?” Pamela’s gaze sharpened. “I didn’t realize you had one, Mrs. Finch.”
The senior explained it had been a gift from her son.
“And now we’re going to help Mrs. Finch get it working!” Zoe jumped up. “Lauren and I can get started in the kitchen so we’re not interrupting you and Pamela.”
“I’m sure Pamela won’t mind you girls joining us,” the senior replied.
“Of course not.” Pamela gave that tinkly little laugh again. It grated on Lauren’s nerves.
Lauren rose, too. “It’s no problem, Mrs. Finch.” She smiled at the old lady.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Mrs. Finch quavered.
“We’ll make you a cup of coffee,” Zoe told her. “Would you like one, Pamela?”
Pamela shuddered. “No, thank you. I only drink coffee made in a press, or from a real machine, like in your café – remember?”
Lauren and Zoe headed to the kitchen.
“I hope Mrs. Finch didn’t think I was rude,” Zoe fretted as she plugged in the espresso machine. “But I wasn’t expecting Pamela to be
here.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Lauren replied. She’d been a little disappointed that they hadn’t been Mrs. Finch’s sole guests. But surely it was a good thing to have her neighbors visit?
Zoe filled the water compartment and pulled the lever to reveal a space where she could drop in the pod.
“I knew I could get this working.” She grinned.
“We’d better do a water rinse first,” Lauren cautioned. “It might be a bit dusty inside.”
“Good idea.” Zoe turned on the machine. A loud growling hum filled the room. “Wow! That’s loud.”
“Maybe we’ve made the right decision not buying one of these for the cottage,” Lauren commented. “I don’t think Annie would like the noise.”
“Yeah. She’s used to the machine at the café, but it’s in a much bigger space, so the noise is dispersed more,” Zoe agreed.
Zoe dropped the capsule in, then grabbed a white cup from the mug tree nearby. “I hope Mrs. Finch likes this.”
They watched as a thin stream of espresso poured into the cup.
“I’d better go and ask if she takes cream with it,” Lauren said.
Lauren and Zoe had been so busy fiddling with the machine that they hadn’t heard Mrs. Finch and Pamela talking. Now, as she headed toward the living room, Lauren wondered if they were having a pleasant conversation.
“No, I haven’t heard anything more from the detective,” Mrs. Finch said as Lauren hovered in the doorway.
“That’s a shame,” Pamela said sympathetically. “I mean, they could at least tell you if you’re still a person of interest – I believe that’s the phrase they use on all these crime shows.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Lauren said. “Would you like cream and sugar in your coffee, Mrs. Finch?”
“That would be lovely, dear,” Mrs. Finch replied. “Pamela, would you care for something? I could make you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you, but I should probably go now.” Pamela rose. “It’s been wonderful talking to you, and I promise I’ll drop by again soon.”
Lauren returned to the kitchen as Pamela departed. She gave Zoe an update, and then prepared Mrs. Finch’s coffee.
“It doesn’t look like much.” Zoe stared doubtfully at the tiny brown concoction.
“That’s because we steam milk for lattes and cappuccinos, which creates more volume,” Lauren replied. “But I didn’t see a foaming wand or anything we could use to do that here.”