Cappuccino (A Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery Book 1) by M.L. Hamilton

Author:M.L. Hamilton [Hamilton, M.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-04T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

Tate worked in the store until Logan came in around noon. They didn’t speak much, but Tate let the boy work the register while he ate lunch in the storeroom. Grabbing a notebook, he drew two columns down the page. In the first column, he wrote the things he knew about the Vivian Bradley case. In a second column, he jotted down his mailbox and the car following him the previous night.

Pulling up a map on his phone and slipping on his reading glasses, he tried to pinpoint the location where he’d had his encounter, then he searched for Blackrock Road, where Vivian had been killed. The distance between the two was too close for it to be coincidence, but where he’d been driving on the highway, there weren’t any steep embankments like there’d been on Blackrock Road. Beyond shoving him into the embankment and totaling his car, his assailant wouldn’t have been able to push him much farther. So what was the motive? To scare him off? But why him? Who knew he was looking into Vivian’s death? Not Harold Arnold.

His only encounter with the realtor had been when he asked him to leave Zion’s office. That certainly couldn’t be grounds for messing with him. Except, his mailbox had been busted that night and then he’d had the car tailing him after Arnold showed up at the memorial. Both events seemed suspicious.

Placing the pen in his mouth, he chewed on the end of it. He didn’t want to get involved in this case. He didn’t want to be brought on as a consultant, but he was starting to think he needed to see those messages that had been on Vivian’s cell phone. What exactly had been the nature of the threat?

Wilson wouldn’t tell him, and Tate knew he never would unless he agreed to Wilson’s terms.

He slammed the pen down on the table and raked both hands through his hair. He didn’t want to get back into this. He’d left this two years ago. He didn’t want to awaken the nightmares again, the cold sweats, the hours spent in the dark, shivering, rocking himself in terror. It was starting to get better.

“Tate?”

Tate jumped and looked over. His expression must have been wild because Logan took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Tate shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his jaw and pulling off the glasses, shoving them in his shirt pocket. “No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Bill Stanley’s here and he was wondering if you could help him with some plumbing stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.” Tate closed the notebook, then carried it to the file cabinet and stuffed it inside behind his invoices. Then he grabbed up his lunch wrappers and threw them in the garbage, walking out to meet the retired Caltrans worker.

“Hey, Bill, what does the wife have you doing now?”

“She wants a new sink in the downstairs bathroom. It’s one of them fancy above the counter dealies.” Bill scratched at his temple beneath the brim of his ball cap.

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