by Lilly York
She had doubled her business since adding the coffee line. People would stop by the shop on their way to work, if they were meeting a friend, or if they just felt like a good cup of coffee to go with the book they were reading. She even had an author or two who came in regularly to write. She had no idea authors lived in her area of the world. She thought they all lived in New York or L.A. She tried to peek every now and again to see what they were working on, but she didn’t want to lose their business so she tried not to be too nosy.
Today, her mystery writer was in. He pretty much kept to himself. He didn’t divulge much, but once in a while he would throw out an idea and get her opinion on it. He loved her coffee and pastries. The comfortable working stations helped too.
She finished making his coffee. “Here you go, Mr. Rune.” She handed him the coffee and took his fiver. They had it down to a science now. The change went into the tip jar which was split between all the employees at the end of the night.
Willow whispered his first name when he was out of range of hearing. Huxley Rune. Best-selling mystery author. New York Times Best Selling Author. She wondered if he had programmed Siri on his phone to say, “Hello New York Times Best Selling Author” when she was addressing him. She would if she was a best-selling author.
She looked at her watch. She still had a few things to do for the ice cream festival that was kicking off the next afternoon. Including getting her shop ready for the Karaoke party which started in less than two hours.
Mr. Rune would be taking his computer and leaving for the night when he realized what would be going on. Karaoke. The town loved it. He hated it.
Her glass partition wall was on a track and could be opened to make one big room for bigger parties. She loved it. She had so many options with this new system.
The guy she hired to run the karaoke walked through the door and she waved him over. She had a little stage in the coffee shop side, which she used for open mic night as well as karaoke.
“Hey, Mitch, what would you like to drink?”
He perused the menu. “Hmm, how about a bigger Frappuccino?”
“Okay, I’ll get it ready for you.” She had gone with big, bigger, and biggest to describe her drink sizes for the 12, 16, and 20 ounce size cups. She enjoyed being different. It was what set her apart.
As she was making the drink, she noticed Clyde come in. Clyde was fairly rotund with thinning hair and few teeth shy of a mouthful. He clearly was missing a few in the brains department as well. Some said he was just a little slow because he took drugs when he was younger while others said he was disabled. Willow wasn’t sure which it was, but when he was around trouble usually followed close behind. And since her days as a murder suspect a few weeks before, Willow was trying to keep her nose clean. Which was, for some reason, really hard to do. Because trouble also liked to follow her around. Put her and Clyde in the same room together and trouble pretty much was a guarantee.
She watched him carefully.
He walked straight to Mr. Rune’s table and started speaking and gesturing with his hands. The way he talked, in a kind of a slow whine, made it difficult for Willow to hear.
The blender mixing the frap didn’t help her hearing abilities either. She turned the blender off and filled the glass, topped it off with whipped cream, and a drizzle of chocolate and caramel, stuck a straw in it then took it to Mitch who was already setting up. She couldn’t help it if Mr. Rune’s table was near the stage, could she?
She had no idea Clyde knew Mr. Rune. None whatsoever. She was close enough to hear the words “money, cheated, never again,” and “you’ll pay.” Hmm…wonder what happened between the two of them?
Clyde left right after speaking with the author. Mr. Rune went back to his writing like nothing had happened. Maybe this time she was wrong. Maybe Clyde hadn’t brought trouble with him.
Mitch finished setting up and a few minutes later Mr. Rune ordered another coffee, although this time, it was to go. He knew it was about to get loud and, well, loud wasn’t the writer’s style. He gathered up his belongings and put them in his leather brief case then took his coffee and left. She wouldn’t see him until after the ice cream festival. She had tried to talk him into participating but he muttered something about deadlines, rewrites, and time, then shook his head and stalked off, obviously in a mood. She had thought perhaps having a famous writer’s name attached to the ice cream festival would bring in some much needed income for the town.
The other writer in town, Jasper Cliffhanger, volunteered to help. Willow was glad for the help, but, because the writer wasn’t well known he wasn’t going to attract a crowd like Huxley Rune would have. Oh well, you can’t have it all.
6:30. 30 minutes until show time. She opened the glass partition and one of her part timers helped her rearrange the tables and chairs, making sure there was plenty of room for all who wanted to attend.
Willow was surprised to see Clyde return. He ordered a chocolate milk shake, found a table, and waited for the fun to begin.
Karaoke was in full swing. Willow had brought in two of her part timers and Janie, her best friend, who normally worked the morning shift to help with the crowd. Business was booming. She finally felt like she was starting to become part of the town. Last month’s fiasco with the chili cook-off almost sent her packing.
She smiled as three teen age girls took the stage. The music started up and all three of them were giggling. As the music they chose filled the room, Clyde flew up out of his chair in a rage. He took long strides and approached the stage. He was shaking his head and telling them he didn’t like the song they were singing. This time Willow got involved.
“Clyde, leave the girls alone.”
“This isn’t an appropriate song. They have to stop singing this song.”
Willow recognized the song as an upbeat song sung by the Dixie Chicks. Apparently some people still harbored bitterness over the chicks’ political position they took years ago. “Clyde, the girls aren’t making a political statement. They are just singing a fun song about a guy named Earl. Leave them alone.”
He walked back to his table, complaining as he went. “They shouldn’t sing this song. It’s not right. This is an American celebration.”
Willow understood. Back in the day she hadn’t been pleased about the route the singing group took in expressing their opinions either. In fact, she threw away the cds she owned of theirs. But, years had passed and she’d learned you have to forgive and move on or the bitterness would eat you up. Besides, the Earl song was fun. It even made her smile.
As soon as she was behind the counter, the loud pounding music came to an abrupt halt. The entire system had stopped working. She scanned the room and found Clyde on his hands and knees by the electrical outlet. She blew out an aggravated breath then confronted Clyde.
“Clyde, you are done here. You are not welcome in my shop. You are banned.”
He started to protest. “That is a bad song. You shouldn’t let them sing that song. Earl Rune had to die. It’s a bad song.”
Willow thought she heard him wrong. “Clyde, did you say the song is about Earl Rune? Mr. Rune’s first name is Huxley, not Earl. Okay? The song isn’t about Mr. Rune. The song is just pretend. Someone made it up. It’s not about anyone in particular.” She paused to see if he was listening to her. “You need to go home, Clyde. We’ll talk tomorrow to see if you are banned. I don’t want to ban you but you can’t be doing things like that. It isn’t polite.”
“Earl Rune had to die. Earl Rune had to die.” He muttered as he left the coffee shop.
Author Bio
Lilly York (aka Darlene Shortridge, author of Contemporary Christian Fiction) is a transplanted northerner living in the southwest with her husband, children, grandchild, and adopted dog, Clover. Her many experiences in learning the southern way of doing things have been the basis for the Willow Crier Cozies. Including but not limited to drivers honking, making obscene gestures, and yes, even the scene at the beginning o
f the book, fictionalized, of course. Make sure all ya’ll try the chili recipe at the back of the book, because it really did win a chili cook-off!
To stay informed on the whereabouts and goings-on of the Willow Crier Cozy Mystery Characters as well as upcoming releases, recipes and maybe a clue or two, join Lilly’s e-mail club by going to…
LillyYork.com
To stay informed on the whereabouts and goings-on of the Willow Crier Cozy Mystery Characters as well as upcoming releases, recipes and maybe a clue or two, join Lilly’s e-mail club by going to…
LillyYork.com
Also by Lilly York
The Willow Crier Cozy Mystery Series
Chili to Die For (Book 1)
I Scream, You Scream (Book 2)
This Little Piggy Wound Up Dead (Book 3)
Southern Fried Son of a Gun (Book 4 – Coming Soon)