by Eryn Scott
Matcha Do About Murder
A Pebble Cove Teahouse Mystery
Eryn Scott
Kristopherson Press
Contents
Map of Pebble Cove
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Next in the series:
Also by Eryn Scott
About the Author
1
A gust of wind shuddered through the window screen to my left. The puzzle pieces on the table fluttered momentarily with the force. I let the cool sea breeze wash over me, enjoying the relief it brought from the summer heat.
In the months since I’d inherited my late grandmother’s Victorian beachside home—and took over the tea shop she used to run there—I’d decided that living on the beach was my favorite, and summer was no exception. With a constant breeze kicking up off the ocean, and the ability to cool off by splashing around in the water whenever I wanted, I’d yet to suffer in the heat of the record-breaking warm spell the Pacific Northwest had that July.
Through the open windows of the tea shop, the ocean waves crashed, creating such a din they almost seemed like a third person in the room with me. I tapped my fingertips on my lips as I surveyed the puzzle pieces laid out before me.
“Found it!” said the second person in the room. Asher pointed to the piece I’d been searching for.
His hair fell onto his forehead as he leaned forward, the locks the same inky tone as the black tea sitting on the shelves behind him. We had that in common, our hair color. But unlike my hair, whipping into my face with every breeze, the coastal winds didn’t affect Asher’s hair. Another thing he was unaffected by was the temperature, so instead of shorts and a T-shirt like me, he wore his usual outfit of a long-sleeve button up, suspenders, and tweed slacks.
“Perfect.” I smiled as I grabbed the piece and clicked it into place.
Our puzzle took over most of the largest oak table in the tea shop, but there were still half a dozen smaller tables for customers, and the cushioned seats along the wall of tall picture windows overlooking the crashing waves. Not that I had to worry about taking up customer space, seeing that I hadn’t had a customer in a couple of hours. Frustrated at the lack of business, I focused back on the puzzle.
Studying one section for a few silent moments, I said, “Okay … now I need a mostly green guy with a triangle head, a peg leg, and a ball on the end of his right arm. Just a hint of blue on one side.”
Asher ran a hand over his stubbly chin. His face tensed with concentration as he searched. We’d discovered that if I described a piece just right, Asher had a knack for finding the exact one I needed. It was a way he could get involved since he couldn’t pick up the pieces.
“Ah ha!” Asher pointed to the piece I’d described.
His finger, though it appeared to me as solid as anyone else’s, passed right through the puzzle piece as he waited for me to grab it. Plucking it from under his finger, my hand passed through his as if it were no more than air.
Which, considering that he was a ghost, I suppose it wasn’t.
Asher pulled back his hands and rubbed them together. I didn’t even think twice about the way they made noise as if they were real. Though it had taken me a while to get used to the fact that he could move his hair and snap his signature suspenders even though no one else could touch him.
“What next?” he asked.
I squinted. “Um … okay. Pinkish-colored bald guy with a tiny head, a club foot, and two very pointy shoulders.” I chuckled.
Another thing we’d found from experience: the funnier the description, the easier it was for Asher to locate it.
“Knew a guy in the army who fit that description,” Asher mused as his eyes flicked from piece to piece. The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin.
My mouth, however, went dry. The army. The reminder made the back of my neck go hot.
Back when he’d been alive, Asher had been an officer in World War I.
And while he’d assumed he’d died fighting in the war, my research had proved otherwise. I’d discovered that while he’d gone through officer training, he hadn’t come back from their last stint of leave before they deployed.
The army had marked him as a deserter.
I hadn’t had the heart to tell him just yet. Half because I knew the news would crush him, and the other half because I still didn’t entirely believe it.
“Gotcha!” Asher yelled, making me jump and yip in surprise.
My face flushed with heat, betraying my constant worry that one of his ghostly powers might be mind reading, and he just hadn’t told me yet. Once the panic clouding my vision cleared, I realized Asher was talking about the puzzle piece, not catching me in a lie.
“Oh, no.” Asher shook his head. “Nope. This isn’t it. Still searching for the army guy, but what about this one?” He pointed at another piece that fit the color scheme.
Snatching the piece, I clicked it into place and hoped my cheeks weren’t turning red. “Thank you. Yup, needed that one too.” I studied the board because that was easier than looking him in the eye after my mistake.
Asher clicked his tongue and said, “So?”
I glanced up, my own question written in the furrows of my brow. He sat back from the puzzle.
“Are you going to go?” he asked.
My shoulders slumped. He was referring to the grand reopening of the only other tea shop in Pebble Cove. It had been closed for months while its owner had healed from a bad broken leg. My neighbor Daphne had already stopped by to gossip about her visit to the other tea shop that morning.
“Aside from her obvious attempts to make you green with tea envy, Daphne had a point earlier,” he added.
I snorted at his pun then nodded reluctantly.
Daphne mentioned that it would be a good idea for me to check out the competition. She’d also baited me into the aforementioned jealousy by telling me how Jolene had added new items on her menu, all items that had done well in my shop as of late. The most prominent item being a matcha tea latte—a green tea powder made into a latte with sweetener and milk.
I waved a hand, clearing the comment from my memory. “I’m not worried. There’s plenty of business for both of us.”
But even as I said it, I scanned my empty shop and wondered if that were true. I told myself summer wasn’t the greatest time of year to sell hot tea, especially not during a scorcher like the one we were experiencing. I’d started making iced tea last week for just that reason. When the iced-tea sales didn’t help, I reminded myself that over half the town of Pebble Cove was made up of fishermen. The summer was the time when they worked some of the longest hours. That was why Pebble Cove had turned into a veritable ghost town.
I chuckled to myself at the irony of that saying. It technically was a ghost town, Asher being one of many ghosts that hung around Pebble Cove. But learning what I had since I’d discovered my ability to see spirits, I supposed every town was a ghost town of sorts.
A groan built in my throat as my thoughts returned to the rival tea shop. Jolene’s shop being as crowd
ed as Daphne said it was would mean the excuses I’d made for our lack of business were just that, excuses.
Was she doing something I wasn’t?
“Maybe we should go check it out,” I said, turning to Asher. “I won’t lose out on money closing a little early. You’re free to go if you want to get a head start.”
He stood, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he finally peeled his eyes from the puzzle. “Yeah, plus I can’t seem to find that piece anywhere. See you there.” In the blink of an eye, he disappeared.
Unfortunately, it took a lot more than a second for me to get into town. But after closing up most of the windows and locking up the shop, I drove the five minutes from the beach into Pebble Cove.
The coastal village was tucked between craggy cliffs and rocky beaches along an intense stretch of the Northern Oregon Coastline. The cove, however, was placid and peaceful. A hidden respite framed in danger.
They had established the town in the late 1800s, so the buildings all had a bit of a Victorian flair. Downtown Pebble Cove was a small mix of local shops and restaurants crowded around the marina. Coming into town, the Marina Mug was my usual stop to grab a sandwich and drink. But today my attention focused on the other end of the cove.
I’d never set foot in the Pebble Cove Tea Company, so parking on the street and walking inside was an unfamiliar experience. I gripped the cool metal handle of the front door and pulled it open, entering my rival’s tea shop.
A wall of sound and hot air hit me as I entered. Daphne had been right; it was packed. Luckily, I spotted Asher, seeing he’d found a two-top bistro table outside on the deck. While he couldn’t save me a seat like a living person, I knew he had a way of standing right behind anyone who sat down until they experienced a skin-prickling chill unpleasant enough that they left to find a different seat.
Taking in the welcoming smells of tea leaves and the baked items Jolene sold, I smiled. Truly. I didn’t feel any of the competitive vibes everyone seemed to think I should.
I mean, the woman had tried to buy my grandmother’s house and tea shop for a very low price earlier this year, but other than that, I had no reason to think ill of her. And even though my business could be doing better right now, I wasn’t the kind of person who would wish bad things on a fellow small-business owner.
From the amount of wide-eyed stares I got on my way through the crowded space, my regular customers didn’t get the memo I wasn’t mad about sharing their business.
I waved at a few to show them it was okay they were here.
“I’m sorry, Rosemary,” a man said, approaching me as he ruffled his signature wild white hair.
Known around town as the Rickster, he lived on a small houseboat in the marina. And, really, his name and address were the only two things anyone knew about him with any certainty. He claimed a great many things about his past and present life, each sounding crazier than the last.
I waved at him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” I told him. “You guys are allowed to shop at more than one place for tea. I’m here to do the same.”
The Rickster’s lips twitched under his mustache. He leaned closer to me. “Definitely not as good as yours,” he whispered. “I’m just here because it’s so close.”
I nodded. As much as I loved living on the beach, a downtown location seemed like it held its own sales appeal, particularly seeing the difference in the amount of business she was doing compared to me.
Inching away from the Rickster, I moved into line as the last person finished ordering. I didn’t like to leave Asher alone, saving my seat for too long. I approached the counter.
I’d never met Jolene before, seeing as she’d been homebound for the last few months while she recovered from her broken leg. Gray streaked through her black curls. She’d pulled them back into a silver clip, but a few fell forward onto her face.
“Hi, Jolene. I’m Rosemary. It’s nice to meet you.” I grinned.
“Oh, hey,” she snapped, her jaw clenching tight as she swept her gaze over me. “What can I get you?”
I wet my lips. “I’ll take a twelve ounce Earl Grey, please.”
Even though my grandma wasn’t around anymore, it felt like she was still with me because of all the notes she’d left around her house. From reminders to herself, to general knowledge, to motivational phrases, they were everywhere—new ones still surprised me every day when I opened a new drawer or slid a book from the shelf. One such note on her fridge had said, “A solid Earl Grey is the hallmark of a great tea shop.”
Not that I was here to judge Jolene’s tea shop, but … well, I guess I was kind of here to do just that.
Jolene scribbled down my order and took my money with even less enthusiasm. I stepped aside to wait. While I did, I remembered back to my own reopening in the spring. It had been crazy busy that day, and to be honest, I’m not sure what my face looked like during those busier moments. Maybe Jolene was stressed by the amount of people she was trying to serve.
As if to highlight this point, two drinks sat on the pickup counter, unclaimed. Jolene scrambled to set my tea steeping along with another before taking the next customer’s order. I cringed as I noticed her squeezing a tea bag into a cup prior to handing the mug to the customer. Squeezing had a tendency to make the tea much too bitter—more wisdom from Grandma Helen.
Finding myself becoming uncomfortably judgmental watching Jolene, I turned my attention to the tearoom. The fact that I recognized almost everyone inside made me happy; I was finally fitting in here. Their names? Those I didn’t quite have down. This humbling realization seemed to highlight my newbie status, and in that light I spotted a handful of other people in the crowd I’d never seen before. Feeling like I was going backward, I looked back toward the tea counter.
One of the people I’d never seen before, a middle-aged woman with shiny auburn hair strode up and scoffed, “How long have these been sitting here?” She bit the question out at Jolene. “My sweetheart and I have been waiting.”
Jolene’s gaze flicked up, already hardened. “I called out the order. Not my problem if you didn’t come get it.”
My eyes widened. I would never talk to a customer like that. Between how she’d treated me and now this woman, her attitude seemed more like the rule rather than the exception. Jolene turned her wrath on me as she squeezed the water from my tea bag. I bared my teeth in a defensive smile as she handed me my tea. The red-haired woman grabbed her two drinks and huffed off in front of me.
As I headed to the table Asher occupied, the Rickster stopped me again, whispering, “Don’t take Jo’s attitude personally. That was hard for her.”
I stopped, intrigued. “Why’s that?”
He looked pointedly at the red-haired woman whose drinks were left sitting on the counter. “That woman is here dating Jolene’s ex, Murray. I think it would upset anyone.”
Glancing out to where the Rickster indicated, I caught sight of a man probably somewhere in his fifties. He had mostly silver hair and wore a loud Hawaiian shirt. Although he wasn’t unattractive, the redhead definitely seemed out of his league.
I pressed my lips forward in thought as I took my tea out to the table. Murray, that sounded familiar. Yes, my neighbor, Carl, had talked about a friend by the same name. And he was Jolene’s ex? Now the woman’s pointed comment about my sweetheart seemed rude instead of just odd.
As I approached, a man walked away from Asher. He shivered and ran his hands up and down his arms. Even in this heat, the chill of having a ghost near you was unsettling if you didn’t know they were there like I did.
I smiled in thanks toward Asher and sat down. Our table was right next to where Murray sat with the redhead. I listened to her complain about their drinks sitting out on the counter for so long, as if it were background noise.
“Earl Grey?” Asher asked, eyeing my cup.
“Grandma knew best,” I said.
Asher chuckled. “Thought you weren’t here to judge?”
“I never
said that.” I grinned until Murray shot me a worried glance, and the smile faded from my face.
I inwardly scolded myself. I needed to stop talking to Asher as if everyone else could see him too. In the three months I’d lived in Pebble Cove, I was sure I’d already gotten a weird reputation around town for talking to myself.
Avoiding Murray’s concerned gaze, I dropped my eyes to my cup and took my first sip. The bitter liquid settled on my tongue. I puckered my lips, fighting my body’s natural urge to spit it out.
“Oh, yuck!”
Heads turned at the exclamation.
Mine included.
I glanced at the table next to us. Murray’s girlfriend curled her lip at the cup of matcha. She held it as far away from her as she could, like it might be full of acid.
She put her hand over Murray’s. “Honey, this looks nothing like the matcha I’ve had in my travels.” She turned up her delicate nose. “I can’t drink it. Will you?” she asked with a pout.
“You ordered it. You don’t even want to try it?” Murray asked.
She wrinkled her nose.
The man shrugged, switching his mug with hers.
“Thanks, doll.” She patted him on the cheek.
Just as the swap was complete, her phone vibrated, moving across the metal tabletop. Her face darkened.
“I’ve got to take this,” she said, her voice no longer smooth. She dropped a kiss on the man’s head as she trotted over to the edge of the deck where it was quieter.
We sat there for a moment while I sympathy-sipped the overstepped Earl Grey. Asher perked up as he looked back toward the boardwalk. Following his gaze, I recognized a few local ghosts congregating in front of the tea shop.