by Louise Lynn
I had no idea what her message was supposed to mean. I groaned and straightened from hovering over the table.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said and took off the plastic gloves I wore. The latex left indents around my wrists.
I was trying to forget that morning’s events, and now I was about to be reminded of it all over again.
I didn’t bother removing my hairnet; it was too much of a pain to put on in the first place. Even if it did make me look more like a lunch lady than a tea shop owner.
The officer was one I recognized straight away. He was tall, heavily bearded, and built like a grizzly bear. Underneath his uniform, muscles flexed in the light, and his hat jolted the spider plant dangling above his head. I was pretty sure he gave me a speeding ticket when I was a teenager. He smiled at me approaching, a little tight around the eyes.
“How can I help you, officer?”
Ivy hovered behind him. “We just made fresh cookies, too. Want one?”
The officer hesitated for a moment, then he nodded and cracked another tight smile. “Uhh… sure,” he said, nodding. “Why not.”
I watched my sister extend him a plate of cookies and the officer’s eyes lit up. I knew he wasn’t there to devour Maritime goodies.
“Sorry, Officer, but… how can I help you?”
He jolted on the spot and his eyes flitted around my shop. “It’s about Jenny Walker,” he said, voice turning graver as he swallowed a gulp of cookie. “I was told she had visited the Teashop just before… she passed away. She was holding onto one of your teacups.”
I nodded and explained to him that Jenny Walker had been a regular customer since the day I opened. He jotted down everything I said onto a small white notepad, nodding, and giving me brief looks of what I felt were approval. I hesitated at the part about Maggie ‘accidentally’ spilling tea on her.
“One of your customers spilled hot tea over her? That would explain the red marks.”
“Yes,” I said. “But she tripped. It was an accident. You know Maggie White.”
The officer nodded again and scribbled quickly into his notepad. “I also knew Jenny Walker,” he grumbled, and his mouth thinned into a straight line.
Of course he did. The whole town knew Jenny Walker.
“So how do they think she passed?” I asked him, leaning against the front counter.
Ivy sat on top of it and we both looked at him for an answer.
He shrugged at us. “Don’t know yet. Old Matthew came down from the library when he heard and put on a scene. They took her to the hospital for an autopsy, so I guess we’ll know soon.”
I nodded, and he thanked me for my time before making his way to the door. Once it chimed his retreat, I wasted no time and got back to work.
“Are you going to close early for that movie tonight?” Ivy asked, and I felt her eyes press on me, as I finished frosting the Black Forest cake.
After everything that happened today already, leaving the shop open any longer felt like I was tempting fate. Probably better to be safe than sorry. “We’ll close at three, after the afternoon rush.”
She nodded and grinned. “Happy Birthday, Olive!”
The afternoon rush ran later than usual because of all the hubbub surrounding Jenny Walker’s death. Several regular customers came in to ask if she really had been there before she toppled over, and I had to admit it was true. She came every Friday and most of the regulars knew that as well.
I finally locked up at three-thirty that afternoon, and Ivy shifted from foot to foot, shivering in the chill air. “Come on, come on! We’ve got to make the four o’clock showing.”
“What’s so great about the four o’clock showing?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s the last time to get matinee pricing, and if I’m paying—”
I snorted. “You don’t want to go full price for my birthday present.”
“Poor college student here. Plus, Mom spent enough on you for your birthday.”
She had that right. I smiled as I glanced at the dragon incense burner. That made sixteen burners in total, but the dragon was by far the biggest, and my new favorite.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, shooing Ivy toward my navy truck parked outside. “The birthday girl has spoken.”
“Did…did you just refer to yourself as the birthday girl?” Ivy teased, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“Well… It’s a full-moon tonight. Maybe miracles do happen, after all.” I grinned, climbing into the driver’s seat.
As I drove by the spot where Jenny Walker had died, my stomach flipped, and I regretted saying those words to Ivy out loud.
Had her death really been just an accident?
Much to my sister’s delight, we made it to the movies on time, and for a blissful two hours I got to enjoy not thinking about work or the tragic events of that morning. The movie was even better than I expected and, for once, I couldn’t predict the ending—which, for a mystery, I usually did.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to dinner?” Ivy asked for the hundredth time.
I shook my head and turned the steering wheel toward our home. We lived close enough to the shop to walk on most days, but I usually took the truck because of the cakes. Much easier to transport them that way than to carry them.
“Truthfully, I’d rather relax tonight. Plus, you know how Mom will get if she finds out we went without her. Especially if it’s seafood.”
Ivy shuddered. “Yeah. Good point.”
A few minutes later, I pulled up outside our three-story, Victorian mansion and cut the engine. My eyes roamed over the sharply gabled roofs, complete with a round tower at the left side. Even in the evening the house stood out, the brightly lit windows like watchful eyes. Though maybe that had more to do with the new royal purple paint job than anything else. We had begged our mom to keep it blue, but she insisted purple and yellow were better colors for harmony.
The gothic building had been in our father’s family for over a hundred years, but it was no longer a full-size mansion like it used to be. The bottom two floors had been converted into a house where our mom lived, and the third-floor was separated into two apartments; one for me and one for Ivy. No way could I have actually lived with her and worked with her.
Nothing against my family, but I needed a break for them some of the time.
I caught sight of an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house, blocking the driveway.
“You expecting someone?”
Ivy shook her head. “You don’t think Mom brought home another suitor, do you?” she asked and wrinkled her nose.
I couldn’t blame her. It’s not that we didn’t want our mom to be happy, but sometimes it felt like she had dated more than both Ivy and I combined. I know, in the last three years, she dated more than I did.
The familiar knot tightened in my stomach as we walked toward the front door. Who could it be at this time? It was nearly dark.
“Do you think it’s Andy trying to win you back?” Ivy said, her voice tinged between amusement and disgust.
I shook my head. After three years, I highly doubted it.
We hadn’t even touched the front door, when a voice called out behind us. “Can we have a word?”
Ivy swept around before I did. “What about?” she said and put her hands on her hips.
I turned the key and put my hand on the door handle. Being approached in the dark by a strange man, in front of my own house, wasn’t my idea of a good birthday surprise. Even in a quiet, small town like San Bastion, bad things could happen. And people could be deceiving.
Two men approached the front door, and with the shadows cast by the willow tree that took up a good portion of the yard, I couldn’t make out their faces. Not even with the porch light on. However, they both flashed familiar badges, and I could see they were real police officers.
“Detective Woods and Detective Harper,” the man said. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about Jenny Walker, who happened to be a regula
r customer of yours.”
I squeezed the door handle, and a gust of salty December air blew over my shoulders.
“One of your officers already talked to me today,” I said.
“We know,” the younger of the two replied, and ran his hand over his closely shorn brown hair.
I glanced over my shoulder, and tried to capture his features. Shadows danced across his face, but the porch light cast enough glow that I could almost make him out. Sharp jawline, semi-bearded cheeks, and a pair of grey eyes that were lined around the edges. Something about him was so strange, and yet so, so familiar.
Then, Ivy gasped. “Dean? Dean Harper?”
The knot in my gut lurched and I stood ramrod straight. She had to be kidding. No way was Dean back in town and I didn’t know about it yet.
He stepped closer, and now upon closer inspection, I recognized his face even though it had been a good fifteen years since I’d last seen him. He had aged well, that was for sure. In high school, he’d been cute, but he’d grown into his strong nose and square jaw to be drop-dead gorgeous.
Maybe that was the wrong choice of words considering what happened earlier that day.
I took a sharp breath and forced myself to smile. “What did you need to ask about Jenny Walker?”
Ivy cast me a confused frown, and for a moment, I swore Dean looked offended by my cold demeanor. It wasn’t every day you stumbled across your high school sweetheart after nearly two decades. But I couldn’t afford to unlock those memories.
Now they stared me right in the face.
Dean’s pained expression passed too quickly for me to make assumptions. He’d probably just been surprised. After all, even if we had dated for three years in school, that was ancient history by then. I hadn’t seen the man in years, and this was how he reintroduced himself?
The older detective’s face hardened. “It turns out the circumstances she died under aren’t as mysterious as we thought.”
I blinked at them both. “The officer said it would take several days to get back the autopsy results.”
Dean, for the first time, met my eyes directly, and I ignored the way my heart sped up. “Normally it would,” he said, voice considerably softer. “But the teacup she had on her expedited the process.”
“What about it?” Ivy probed, folding her arms.
Dean licked his lips, and the wind picked up a pile of coppery leaves and blew them across the walkway and over his feet. His long black coat flapped around him like the wings of a bat.
“The tea was poisoned.”
The other detective stepped forward. “We’re going to need to look in your shop. You can either grant us permission or we’ll get a warrant. Your choice.”
My mouth felt like the Sahara, and I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. Poison? My tea had poisoned her?
“Of course.” I let go of the door handle and straightened. “I’ll go with you. Ivy, stay here and wait for Mom to get home.”
I gave her hand a tight squeeze, and thankfully, Ivy didn’t argue. I glanced at her worried expression over my shoulder, then followed Dean and his partner back to their police car.
“Do you think I had something to do with this?” I asked them, once we were out of Ivy’s earshot.
The other detective scoffed, and Dean frowned at him. “We have to cover all our bases, Olive.”
At that moment, I knew I was wrong.
This was by far the worst birthday present ever.
Chapter Four
Dean towered several inches above me, his gaze pressed onto the back of my skull. The wreaths against the glass caused disjointed shadows to dart around us and stretch over Maritime Teashop.
Once I unlocked the shop, Dean held open the door and allowed me to step inside first. My eyes widened at the band of gold wrapped around his left index finger, catching in the faint porch lights.
So, Dean had fallen in love and married somebody else?
I hated how my heart clenched at that. Why should it? I’d moved on and almost got married. Why couldn’t he? I was happy for him. Just because my love life sucked, didn’t mean his had to.
I took a sharp intake of breath and stepped over the threshold. It was cold and dark inside, and for the first time ever, I entered a place I did not recognize. My livelihood—my sanctuary—felt different with the two detectives overshadowing me, potentially thinking I was a murderer.
A draft sailed through the shop, as I pushed in and switched on the lights. The table nearest to the door held my attention. It had a smooth, ivory surface and a solitary armchair tucked underneath.
“Mrs. Walker always sat here, right by the window.” I pointed to the chair, pushed up tight beside the stained-glass window. “And she had the same jasmine oolong as always.”
Detective Woods brought out his camera and snapped photos of my shop, starting with Jenny’s prized spot. Then he nodded toward the security camera latched above the wind chimes on the door.
“We’ll need to view your security footage, Ma’am. A copy of the last month will do.”
“Of course,” I said, nodding. “I can grab that for you right now. There’s some cakes behind the counter, in a tub. You’re welcome to have them while you wait.”
I usually kept them for my mother, who stopped by the café on her way home to pick up Buttercup. I noticed they hadn’t been touched, and yet Buttercup was nowhere to be seen. Mom must’ve just been by to pick up Buttercup and forgot about them.
Exhaustion racked through me. I couldn’t wait to get home and see everyone, then sleep and the day would be over.
I left the detectives at the front of the shop and veered toward the stockroom. As I entered through the back of the building, tomorrow’s fresh baking lay stacked on various colored crates and the smell of coconut and almonds wafted through my senses. I found the smell comforting as I settled down into the pantry, where my security recording system had been stored, along with a metallic box for me to sit on. Now that I knew I was a suspect, I wanted to watch the footage myself before passing it over, but I knew I hadn’t the time. I could hear the detectives snooping around the shop, low voices murmuring to each other, and the snap of various photos being taken.
I burned a copy of the footage onto a disc, popped it into a plastic sleeve, and pushed up from the box. Detective Harper stood outside the pantry.
“Got it?”
“Yes. I was able to run everything from the last four weeks and up until an hour ago. Surprising, though, because normally the machine freezes every couple of seconds.” I climbed out of the pantry and handed him the disc. “Anyway, I hope it helps.”
“It will,” Dean said, slipping the disc into a transparent evidence bag.
I noted a few extra things had already been sealed inside. A Maritime lunch menu, napkins, and cutlery—probably taken from Jenny Walker’s table.
“I can’t believe I’m a suspect,” I murmured, more to myself than anything. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. “Is there anything else you need, Detective Harper?”
“Actually, one more thing, if you wouldn’t mind. A sample of the victim’s tea?”
I nodded and stepped around him, to where a heavily stacked shelf stood attached to the wall. On it, Jenny Walker’s jasmine oolong tea glared over at me, half-opened.
“She only ever drank this,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to retrieve it.
I handed Dean the packet and he carefully folded the edges over before slipping it into a separate bag. “Imported from where?”
“South East Asia. I can send you the latest invoice order, too, if that would help. It has their address and contact details. But I add the fresh jasmine myself, like I do with all the flavored teas,” I said and felt my mouth go dry. Admitting that might’ve been akin to admitting to killing her, but they’d find out the truth anyway, even if I didn’t tell them. “I can give you a sample of the dried jasmine I used for this batch. It’s just here.”
“That would be useful, Oli
ve. Here’s my card. My number and email are on the bottom of it. Get in touch if you need to.”
I nodded at him.
First, it was my birthday, then a customer died on my doorstep, and now I was standing beside the first man I had given my heart to.
Dean placed a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched. I didn’t mean to jump back from him. I just didn’t expect him to comfort me. In the cramped stock room, he was so close to me that I could smell his cologne and hear his every breath. Memories and sensations consumed me. I backed away slowly, and a pang seized my chest when I saw the pained expression on Dean’s face.
“I… I just want you to know that we are taking this investigation very seriously. You don’t need to worry. You’re in safe hands.”
“Unless you can’t prove that I’m innocent,” I countered, running a hand through my tangled hair.
I regretted it the moment one of my rings became trapped.
“Right,” the detective said, peeling his eyes from my wedged hand. “But we’re not only focusing on you. If we thought you were guilty, you’d be in cuffs right now.”
Now that didn’t make me feel better, but he had a point.
I gestured to the tin of dried jasmine and he put the whole thing inside a third evidence bag.
I thought of each time Ivy and I opened that stupid tin. How many times our fingerprints would be on the smooth metal surface. Tears pricked behind my eyes, but I held them back.
I wasn’t going to cry in front of Dean Harper.
I nodded again and turned toward the door, Dean following closely at my side. Untangling my ringed finger from my matted hair, I tried to ease the tension between us.
“So, did you try one of the cakes?”
“I sure did, Olive.”
I flinched at the old nickname. Only Ivy and my mom called me Olive now. “And what did you think of them?”
“I moved back here a few weeks ago and the whole town’s constantly told me that I should try them. The cake didn’t disappoint, put it that way.”
Relief flooded through my veins. I knew I was good at baking, but I always worried I wasn’t talented enough. Now, I may have poisoned someone.