Ice Coffee Corruption by Tonya Kappes

Author:Tonya Kappes [Kappes, Tonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tonya Kappes Books
Published: 2024-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Did you see that image I sent you?” Mom’s voice rang out through my car’s Bluetooth speaker.

“I did,” I said, gripping the wheel before backing out of the parking spot. Instead of pulling out, I did a slow drive by the edge where the parking lot met the Cocoon Hotel so I could get my eyes on the coffeehouse’s pop-up tent. The air was crisp, and the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced eerily in the fading light.

I was happy to see the press conference given by Spencer hadn’t kept folks from coming out to enjoy all the events the town council and the Southern Women’s Club had planned for the Friendsgiving Harvest Festival. The slight wind kicked up the arms of the large scarecrow, and as I passed, it seemed to be looking straight at me with its faulty grin, as if it were mocking me.

A shiver curled up my spine, making my knuckles go whiter and my fingers tighter around the steering wheel. Bare branches of trees along the roadside looked like skeletal arms reaching out, their shadows creeping over the road like phantom fingers.

“And did you see what I wrote?” Mom asked. “It’s not Aiken’s handwriting on that note. It’s Jennifer’s.”

“I know,” I acknowledged. My heart beat faster than my mind, keeping me from seeing through all the confusion I was feeling because I thought Aiken was the one who had arranged a secret meeting.

“What do you think this means?” Mom asked.

“Well, I think she was going to have some sort of meeting with someone, and whether that someone was the one who killed her, I’m not sure, but I do know that she didn’t write the note to herself and carry it around.” I was really thinking out loud, but theory seemed pretty good, so I continued, “And I’m going to have to get it to Spencer so he can analyze it for fingerprints.”

“That’s good, Roxy,” Mom said. “But you’ve got to be careful. Do not let anyone know you found it.”

“I will. I promise.” I could almost hear her sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. “What is the document you sent with Jennifer’s handwriting from?”

“They purchased a piece of property from me a year ago. They turned the old place into an Airbnb. I remembered how kind she was from the meeting,” she said. “When a potential buyer comes in to see me, I have a packet I give them to fill out. Things like what they are looking for, must-haves, what’s okay if they don’t get, those kinds of things. Something men generally don’t fill out and the women do.”

I was listening to Mom and trying to remember Jean Hill’s directions to the Armstrong house on Honey Hive Road at the same time. The dark, winding road was lined with trees that seemed to lean in closer as the night deepened, their branches rustling like whispers in the cold night air.

“Thank you, this is super helpful,” I told her.

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