Dead To The Last Drop: A Cozy Mystery (A Killer Coffee Mystery Book Eight) (A Killer Coffee Mystery Series 8) by Tonya Kappes

Author:Tonya Kappes [Kappes, Tonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tonya Kappes
Published: 2020-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

“What on earth is going on over at the theater?” Bunny Bowowski couldn’t hightail it over fast enough to me when she saw Pepper and me come through the coffee shop door.

That there were so many customers shouldn’t’ve surprised me because whenever there was a situation in Honey Springs, including simple gossip, they loved to come to the coffee shop to have a cup of coffee and hear the rumor mill.

I’d like to say it was awful that they did this, but it was good for business.

“You aren’t going to believe it,” I muttered under my breath and took a look into Mocha’s cage on my way back to the counter. Bunny followed on my heels.

“Roxy!”

I was slipping off my coat and on my way back to the counter to hang it up when I heard someone calling my name.

“Roxy!”

“It’s that reporter.” Bunny snarled and put her hands on me to guide me back to the counter as though she were protecting me. “He’s trying to get the scoop.”

“The scoop? He was there.” I hung my coat up and waved him over to me. “He might have some good information for us.”

“For us?” Bunny jerked back. “Oh no. Don’t you dare tell me you’re going to stick your nose into this.” She waited for me to respond. When I didn’t, she threw her arms up in the air. “Of course you are going to. Why wouldn’t you? You think that producer was murdered, don’t you?”

“Bunny, Mark and I are going to go into the kitchen.” I scanned the glass display case to see what I needed to thaw and replace while I was back there. “I’ll grab some more donuts, blueberry scones, and some maple glazed long johns.”

“And that blend you had.”

“Blend?” Frantically, I turned around and looked at the small container I’d roasted from the very expensive Honduras burlap bag.

“Yeah. That stuff sold out fast.” She shrugged and waddled back over to the register when someone came up to pay. “I want to know every single detail of what happened after I get some of these people out of here.”

Mark followed me through the push-through door into the kitchen.

“You can sit there.” I pointed to the stool butted up to the workstation.

While he got situated, I headed straight to the freezer and grabbed the few items to thaw and restock.

“That should keep us until lunch.” I was mainly talking to myself like I always did, but Mark nodded in agreement. “And while those thaw…” I continued and tugged the big dry-erase whiteboard from underneath the workstation, laid it on top, and grabbed the dry-erase marker from the drawer. “We can talk about who had the most motive.”

“Whoa!” Mark eased up onto his feet. His jaw dropped when he noticed I’d written Alan Bogart’s name at the top and the word Victim under it. “What are you doing?”

“Obviously one of the crew or the actors killed Alan.” I quickly wrote down Gretchen’s name. “But who?” I wiggled the marker toward him.

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