A Brew Most Bitter (33rd Street Roastery Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Summer Prescott

Author:Summer Prescott [Prescott, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Summer Prescott Books
Published: 2022-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

9

Rohan admitted that he was a gawker.

Gawker. Margaret had used the term more than once to describe the people who had come into the shop during those first few days when the Roastery had reopened its doors after the incident. They had come to gawk – to immerse themselves between the enticing smell of warm macchiatos and the cold morbidity of a murder unsolved.

Rohan had been honest when he’d said that he wasn’t with the press, but he never laid to rest that he might be one of those people – the ones who gawk.

“Blanche,” he said. “Blanche, Purveyor of the Bizarre, that’s me. I write blogposts about unsolved mysteries. I even try to assist with solving them, when I can,” he confessed, as though he had no idea that he was crushing what little shred of faith that Paige had harbored in her heart about the goodness of humanity.

Paige took a step back, and it was clear that Rohan realized – albeit a little too late – that he had made a tactical error.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I just want to tell you the full truth.”

But honestly, Paige had never wanted the full truth, at least not if it shattered the last of her fragile illusions. She had spent the last decade chasing a form of truth in the pages of philosophers like Aristotle and Kant, and still felt no closer to it. Truth was supposed to be simple. It was easy and apparent when it was found.

She had thought that she had found it with Rohan. Margaret had tried to warn her.

“My aunt used to watch… videos,” Rohan said. “On television. Documentaries, crime shows, anything she could find. We lived in a townhouse, and the ground floor always had the sound of a narrator exploring some mystery. I used to be petrified of those voices. Of the morbid cadence they had.” He chuckled nervously.

Paige blinked, looked at the door, and then looked back at him, her face deliberately devoid of emotion.

“I guess after a while,” Rohan continued, filling the awkward silence with his words. “I figured it was better to stop being afraid of that voice. Just listen and…”

“Blanche,” Paige interrupted. She felt slightly betrayed and thus didn’t feel the need for much tact. “You say you’re Blanche, the woman who wrote the blog posts.”

“I am, yes,” Rohan admitted, a sheepish look on his face.

“You wrote that blog post,” Paige said, eyes narrowed. “About finding that poor girl in an industrial roasting machine. You lied to overplay the drama.”

Rohan looked up at the balcony.

“I went with what my sources told me,” Rohan replied, slowly directing his gaze down at Paige, as though he was worried that making eye contact would send her running. “I’m working on some corrections now that I have access to the actual police report.”

“Your sources?” Paige repeated. “Are you telling me you’re a detective now?”

“The world is much different now,” Rohan replied, sounding a bit cagey. “When my aunt was watching those crime shows on TV, it was always about the police and the suspects.

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