Killed on Blueberry Hill by Sharon Farrow

Author:Sharon Farrow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

By the time Tess entered the Sourdough Café, I was well into my second vanilla latte. She didn’t need my big wave to spot me; I’d snagged one of a handful of tables that only seated two. The rest of the café tables and booths were large enough to hold eight diners.

Slinging her purse over the back of the chair, Tess sat across from me, a bit out of breath. “I didn’t expect an invite to an impromptu breakfast at Sourdough. And on a Thursday, too.”

Because of our work schedules during high season, we usually only ate here for an early Sunday breakfast in the summertime. “There was an incident last night at the store.”

She shot me a nervous look. “Does it involve a dead body?”

“No. Only some petty larceny. But there is a connection of sorts to a dead—”

“I assume neither of you need a menu,” Drea, my favorite waitress at the café, interrupted me. “You’ve both eaten here more times than our cook.”

Tess and I smiled up at the young woman. “My usual,” I told her. “A California scramble, rye toast, no potatoes.”

“Baked blueberry French toast for me,” Tess said. “And a cup of Earl Grey.”

“Wait a second. That sounds good. I’ll have the blueberry French toast, too.”

After Drea left, Tess yawned. “I forgot to set the alarm on my phone last night and overslept. If you hadn’t called, both David and I would still be snoring.” She spread a napkin on her lap. “Shouldn’t you be at yoga right now?”

“Not feeling in much of a namaste mood today.”

“Tell me about this petty larceny. Did someone break into The Berry Basket last night?”

“Nope.” I sipped my latte. “I had an after-hours visitor: Wyatt O’Neill.”

“I’m not a Wyatt fan. And I wouldn’t have let him in after closing. Or any of his friends.”

“Have you had a bad experience with Wyatt?”

“Tell me about your incident first.”

“I’d finished tallying the day’s receipts and entered the numbers in the computer, when Wyatt showed up at my door. He had a legitimate reason for being there. I’d left a box of syrups behind at my vendor booth, and he was nice enough to return them to me.”

She appeared skeptical. “Seems uncharacteristic, but go on.”

“I let him in, of course. He mentioned he was hungry, so I went in the back to get some pastry from the kitchen. I was gone only three or four minutes.” I didn’t bother to mention he’d lit up a joint during the interval. “He ate, we talked about his uncle, then he left. That’s when I noticed the earrings I’d left on top of the metal cashbox had been moved.” I paused as Drea set down a mug of tea before Tess.

“Let me guess.” Tess spooned honey into her tea. “Wyatt stole money from the box.”

“Two hundred dollars.”

“Did you call the police?”

“No. His uncle was murdered this week. The family has enough to deal with without me bringing charges of theft against their son. But I thought you should know.

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