Marvels, Mochas, and Murder by Christine Zane Thomas

Author:Christine Zane Thomas [Thomas, Christine Zane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-29T05:00:00+00:00

As Mondays typically went, a steady trickle of customers turned to a flood by early afternoon. Back to work and fighting their weekend hangovers, everyone was in need of their caffeine fix.

Sarah took over as barista while Jason took over at cashier, and I was freed to go check on Jill. This after having to non-discretely ask Marc where she lived.

I took a ride share via HytchHiker, which was similar to all the other ride sharing apps. Only a handful of drivers lit up the screen. Like everything in Niilhaasi, the offerings were small. A kid named Neil pulled up in a silver Prius.

And by kid, I mean he looked around the same age as Sarah, so in college, or just out of high school. Mousy hair twisted around his wide oval face. He was nice enough. The car was clean. He even offered me a bottled water.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Neil did a half shrug and put the car into drive. “No one ever takes the water.”

“Really? No one?” I was honestly curious. Niilhaasi wasn’t a hotbed of activity. “How many rides do you get in a day?”

I thought maybe Neil saw more action on Gaiman Island.

“Honestly?” he said. “You’re my first hiker since, uh, last Monday night.”

“A week ago?” I said quickly.

“Yeah, I guess it has been a week. It’s not like I’m always out looking for rides though. I usually flip it on when I’m out and about—I was just headed to Publix when you put out a thumb.”

The app lingo was distractingly funny, but my mind was focused on the date. The last time this kid had shared a ride just so happened to be the night Ryan was murdered.

Could it possibly be a coincidence?

“And where were you headed the other night? I mean, last week, when you had the other, uh, hiker?”

“Oh, man, it was late. I work my other job out at the outlets, and we don’t close until midnight. Got to milk those tourists for all they got in the summer.” He rubbed his fingers together in a mocking gesture. “It’s funny, milk, because I work at Starbucks.”

“Well, it’s less funny when you have to explain the joke,” I joked.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded. “I just hate the tourists, ya know?”

I shrugged. Tourists helped our economy. That was business 101.

“Well, anyway, you’ll probably think this is lame, but I went to one of my coworker’s houses.” He gave me an odd look. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a dude. And no no, I’m not like that either. We just had a beer and played XBox. So, it was fairly late when I drove back here. I think I just had the app on because of habit.”

Neil talked with his hands. And the car swerved with each motion. Not an ideal thing when going over a bridge. To one side there were oncoming cars, to the other, my side, a concrete barrier and murky water.

“In fact,” he continued, “the dude I drove that night had to be a tourist, too.

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