Office Heretics (A Coffee & Crime Mystery Book 2) Read online

  OFFICE HERETICS

  A Coffee & Crime Mystery

  By Nan Sampson

  Published by Last Chance Press

  Copyright © August 2016 Nan Sampson

  First E-Edition: August 2016

  First Last Chance Press Edition: August 2016

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Last Chance Press. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Art © by Raven Blackburn

  To The Mad Hill Hunters of Lake Meep for providing love, hugs, butt glue, writerly advice and the occasional whip crack, to Steve, Rachel and Admiral Lord Nelson for their love and support, and to my awesome editor, EJ McFall for the “well, duh’s” and for always believing in me.

  Chapter 1

  At 4:30 in the morning, the small town of Horizon, Wisconsin still slumbered. Coming in the back alley door of her coffee shop, the Sacred Caff, Ellie Gooden switched on the lights then went to the front of the store to unlock the front door, while Erik the Red, her mixed breed companion made a bee-line for his comfy bed in her little office. She stood for a moment to admire the shop. Red lacquered ice cream tables and chairs sat on sparkling black and white tiles. The barista bar was shiny black, and behind it her espresso machines gleamed. The swinging door to the kitchen, with its requisite round window, was painted a glossy red, and over it hung a black and white clock in the shape of a cow. The clock always made her smile - it was one of the last things she’d bought to decorate the place and was a bit of a tip of the hat to her neighbors and dear friends, the Moughs (which rhymed with ‘cows’), who owned the local organic dairy, Mough’s Cows.

  The first few weeks of the shop's existence the previous spring, had been hell. The property's former owner had been murdered in her kitchen, and Ellie herself had come under suspicion for the crime. It had all worked out, however. The real killer had been caught, her Grand Opening happened only a few days late and now, looking at her handiwork, she found herself inordinately proud of what she'd accomplished in the past six months. She smiled then went back behind the barista bar and tied on an apron. It was time to get to work.

  She’d barely gotten the espresso machines up and running when her cell phone rang. A glance at her watch told her it was still only 5:15. Too early for anything but bad news. She hesitated answering, especially as the number was unfamiliar. With a quick prayer to the Goddess, she tapped the screen.

  "Hello?"

  "Ellie? It's Lacey. Lacey Silberson."

  If the name had been Mary, Ellie might have had to think for a moment, but she'd only known one Lacey in her life, and she'd have been hard to forget even if Ellie had wanted to. "Lacey! Heavens, it's been…” She paused to think. “What, twelve, thirteen years?"

  "Look, I know I've been bad about keeping in touch. And if I had, it would make what I'm about to ask easier, but it is what it is and I really need your help."

  Leave it to Lacey to get right to the point. "What's up?"

  "Someone's trying to kill me."

  "What?" No amount of corporate sensitivity training could have prepared Ellie for that pronouncement and the Lady and Lord knew in her years in marketing, she'd sat through enough of it.

  "I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. And I need you to help me."

  Ellie took a breath. She fidgeted with the letter opener in her pen holder, trying to think of what to say.

  "Ellie? You still there?"

  "Yes. Yes, of course. Look, Lacey, this really sounds like something for the police." It actually made her a little ill to say that. "I mean... if you really think someone wants to hurt you..."

  "No. No one wants to 'hurt' me. They want me dead. They've tried twice already that I know of. Sooner or later, they're going to succeed. You and I both know how competent the police are."

  Ellie winced. The murder of her parents, a crime now over a year old, was still unsolved. "But why me?" It came out whinier than she'd intended, but good Goddess, she owned a coffee shop, not a hole in the wall detective agency. She was no more qualified to help Lacey than Erik the Red.

  "We made a pact, Ellie. Remember? I'm calling in that promise now. I'll even say please."

  There was a pause. Ellie stared upwards, hating that her own foolish words so many years ago were now coming back to bite her in the ass. Her chest felt tight and her stomach churned and the anxiety she'd left the city to escape pressed against the inside of her skull.

  Lacey continued. "I've reserved a room for you at the Palmer House. If you leave this afternoon you could be here in time for dinner."

  "No. No, I can't leave tonight. Even if I could get away, I'd need a couple of days to make some arrangements."

  "Ellie, are you listening? I don't have a couple of days. I may not have tomorrow. Someone is trying to kill me."

  "Well, who, Lacey? Who would want to kill you? I mean, you're in digital marketing not the CIA.”

  "I can't say that. Someone could be listening."

  "If they're trying to kill you, don't you think they know that you know... what they know? Oh, good Goddess, Lacey, this is ridiculous. This is not a John le Carré novel."

  There was silence. Ellie tugged at her opal earrings, a deathbed present from her grams. It didn’t make the problem go away, but touching them always made her feel better.

  More silence.

  The thought of making the drive to Chicago made her eyeballs ache and her stomach clench. She couldn't leave the shop for days at a time. Marg, her only full-time employee, was a great baker and a capable assistant, but she couldn't run the place by herself, not even with her young cousin Willem's part-time help. Besides, she wasn't sure her electric VW van would make it the hundred and ninety miles on a single charge, and she couldn't exactly pull up to a rest stop and ask to plug in her car.

  Silence still. "Lacey? You still there?"

  "I'm here.” Lacey’s tone was acerbic. “For the moment, anyway."

  Goddess, she'd forgotten how dramatic Lacey could be - and how persistent. "Look, let me see what I can shift around." That sounded helpful and non-committal. She could always say later she couldn't make arrangements. "Meantime, you really should go to the police."

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because... just because I can't."

  "Lacey, if you've gotten in over your head with something, even if it's something illegal, isn't it better to get a slap on the wrist or face some embarrassment than put yourself in danger?"

  "Ellie, you have no idea what's going on. Don't spout platitudes at me."

  "Well, it would help if you would just tell me."

  "I'll tell you everything. When I see you.” She paused and when she resumed, her voice held fear, even desperation, things Ellie had never heard from Lacey before. “Ellie, please "

  She sighed. "I'll call you tonight. Can I reach you at this number?” She rubbed her temples. “I've got a Chamber of Commerce meeting this evening, but I'll call you after it's over. Okay?"

  "Fine. I knew I could count on you."

  Leave it to Lacey to assume. "I still don't understand what you think I can do for you."

  "I'll tell you when you get here. I know it sounds mysterious - but you're the only one who can help."

  "Fine. I'll call you tonight, then." With that, she ended the c
all.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Ellie emerged from her office and made her way into the kitchen, Marg had arrived. The middle-aged woman took one look at Ellie's face and left her preparations at the two industrial ovens to lay a hand on Ellie's shoulder, marking Ellie's t-shirt with flour. "Ellie, honey? You okay? What's up?"

  Her friend’s warm, experience-lined face instantly made Ellie feel better. Marg was in her early fifties, the youngest of six siblings and she had the confidence and self-determination that came with being the baby of the family. Her older brother Seth often called it arrogance and cussedness, but it gave Marg the audacity to dye her hair outrageous colors and wear bold and daring clothes - and somehow pull it all off well. Today her hair was Lucille Ball red, upswept like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Under her apron, she wore a pair of tight navy ski pants and a white and navy striped cowl neck sweater that would have looked ridiculous on Ellie, but somehow made Marg look like a Laurie Petrie from the Dick Van Dyke Show.

  She considered brushing Marg off - she'd never been the kind to share confidences, but there was no point in lying, Marg had a way of getting things out of her. Ellie sat down on her stool by the register and poured a cup of hot water over some White Tea w/Cantaloupe. "I just got the oddest phone call. It was an old friend from college. Lacey Silberson."

  "Is everything okay?"

  Ellie glanced out the window at the glowering sky, feeling the heavy, wet weight of the clouds like an omen. Snow was on the way. "Things are never okay in Lacey's world, and everyone she knows has to suffer because of it."

  Marg pulled a face. "Ouch. I'm guessing she wasn't a very good friend, then."

  "Actually, the three of us were pretty inseparable once upon a time. Me, Lacey, Kate."

  "Sounds like someone who does a lot of crazy making."

  "Yeah. But somehow we all kind of clicked. At least at first." She sighed, scrubbed her face. "Gods. That was a thousand years ago. I was... I was a different person then."

  Marg chuckled. "Not so different as all that, I don't imagine. So what seems to be Lacey's problem now? I don't recall her ever calling you. I don't even recall you ever mentioning her."

  "No, I haven't spoken to her in more than a decade." She sipped at her tea, added a little more honey. And then, just because she needed the comfort, just a splash of cream. "She seems to think someone's trying to hurt her."

  "What?"

  Ellie snorted a laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Of course, she had to be all dramatic about it. She said someone was trying to kill her and she wants me to come to Chicago to help her."

  Marg pulled up a second stool. "You're kidding me."

  "That's what she said."

  "Do you think she could be right?"

  It was the question she'd been asking herself since the words came out of Lacey's mouth. "It doesn't seem possible. I mean, Lacey's in marketing. Last I heard from Kate, she works for a company that creates catalogs. You know, collectibles, gardening stuff, cooking gadgets. Not exactly a high risk career. Why would anyone have a reason to kill her?"

  "She's from Chicago, like you, right?"

  "Yeah. North Shore. Big money."

  "Well, could she have gotten mixed up in the mob?"

  Ellie did her best to stifle a laugh. "Marg, it's not the twenties. There is no "mob" like that anymore. And even if there were, there's no reason for Lacey to get 'mixed up' with them."

  "Maybe she saw them kill someone. Like on The Sopranos."

  "Then she'd have no reason not to go to the police. And she says she can't."

  "Well, of course, she can't go to the police. The police are on the take. And the ones who aren't can't protect her from the ones who are. The mob has people everywhere."

  "You watch too much TV."

  "I'll bet that's it, Ellie. She witnessed something, and now they've put a hit out on her."

  "So what am I supposed to do about it?"

  Marg paused, thinking. "Well..." She glanced around, even though the shop was empty at the moment. "Maybe she wants you to put the whammy on them."

  Ellie squeezed her eyes, wanting to pretend she hadn't heard that. How many times did she have to explain? "Marg!”

  Marg pointed to the pendant hanging around Ellie's neck. "Zap 'em with the evil eye. Turn them into toads – or the karmic equivalent."

  "You know it doesn't work that way."

  "Well, I don't see the point of being a witch if you can't zap someone once in a while."

  "First of all, I prefer Wiccan, not witch. And second, I've told you a hundred times, I can't zap people. Not only would it be wrong, but magick doesn't work like that. That's only on TV. I'm not one of the Halliwell sisters from Charmed. I can't flip through my granny’s book of magic spells and turn people into donkeys."

  Marg chuckled. "Sure would be nice. Karl Howard already is a horse's ass, might as well look like one too." She glanced up at the clock. "So, you know you can't, and I know you can't, but maybe this Lacey doesn't. Were you Wiccan when she knew you?"

  Ellie thought about that. "Yeah. I was new to , but so was she."

  "Maybe she's seen Practical Magic too many times. Maybe that's why she's calling you for help."

  In some strange way, that fit. "Oh, good Goddess."

  Marg hopped off her stool. "You need to go. Even if you can't zap the bad guys, you should convince her to go to the cops. Someone needs to talk sense to her and she seems to trust you."

  "But Marg, I don't want to go. I can't go. There's too much to do here."

  "Screw that nonsense. I can hold down the fort for a few days. And you haven't had a day off in months. Take a long weekend. Go visit Kate. She lives around Chicago, right?"

  Ellie considered that. "Yeah, she's in Naperville."

  "So, round her up, the three of you go to dinner, have some drinks, sort out Lacey's problem then toddle on home on Tuesday."

  "You make it sound so easy."

  "It is." She looked again at the black and white cow clock that hung above the kitchen's swinging doors. "Oops. Gotta get those muffins into the oven."

  Ellie glanced up at the cow as well, surprised at the time. "Shit. I've got inventory and payroll to do today." She glanced out through the front windows, saw two of her fellow shop owners heading her way to get their morning fix. "Looks like the morning rush is just about to start."

  "You need to go, Ellie."

  Ellie shook her head. "It's just not a good time."

  Marg rolled her eyes and headed back through the swinging doors to the kitchen. "We'll talk later," she called over her shoulder.

  Ellie ignored her. She would deal with the problem of Lacy Silberson later. Fixing a smile on her face, she greeted the postman, Harvey Briggs, as he entered, bringing with him a gust of frigid air.

  "Morning, Harvey. What can I get you?"

  Chapter 3

  It was after noon when she finished with payroll and inventory. Time to get over to the Crock Pot - she'd promised her Norwegian neighbor, Per Gustafson, that she'd pick up some Three Sisters Soup for his lunch.

  Emerging from her office, she made sure Marg was in a position to handle the front of the house. "I'm heading out to get Per his lunch."

  Marg waved a plastic gloved hand at her. "'Kay. Take your time, I can manage for a couple of hours. We won't see much tourist traffic till after two or three."

  "You want me to bring you something back?"

  "Nah. I told Harvey to bring me a pastrami sandwich when he drops off the mail."

  It was the third time that week Harvey had brought Marg lunch. Ellie wondered if they were becoming an item. Something to ask the woman about - but later, or she'd never get out of here.

  "Okay, cool." She grabbed her coat off the hook in the kitchen and whistled for Erik when she got to the back door. "Come on, Erik. Time to go see Per."

  Erik scrambled up from his cushy bed and bounded towards the back door, tail wagging.

  The closer she got to Pe
r's, the better she felt. Even though the very sky seemed to weigh on her shoulders, she knew that Per would have an answer for her. He always did. His calm, considered opinion was something she'd come to value more than anything or anybody else in this community she now happily called home.

  She wasn't sure how old he was. Surely into his seventies, although he was incredibly fit. Thick, silver hair, pulled back in a neat ponytail, framed a tanned, sun-lined face. He was tall, almost 6'3", and rangy, but not skinny. He chopped his own wood, tilled his own vegetable garden and took care of the handful of llamas he kept for their wool completely on his own.

  It was odd, given his stubborn independence, that he still let her bring him lunch. It had started in the early fall. He was her closest neighbor, just two miles down the road and he'd come down with pneumonia. He'd been such a good friend when she'd moved in that she started bringing him lunch. It was a break for her from the shop and it gave the two of them a chance to talk.

  They talked about everything. Life. Death. Politics. Religion. All the taboo topics, in addition to all the mundane ones, like how much wood one should have on hand for the winter, and what llamas liked to eat, and what was the best way to get rid of bean weevils.

  Ellie loved her friend Marg and her real estate agent Terri Kohler. She loved Seth and Arabella Kemp up at the B&B and Patti and Earl Mough, and bookstore owner Laura Lincoln, but of all the people in Horizon, Per Gustafson was the closest thing she had to real family. He'd know what she should do about Lacey.

  The skies seemed to lighten a bit as she drove down the bumpy last mile and the wind didn't whistle quite so shrilly or so bitingly. The thought of Per’s company and guidance was balm enough for her soul. The soup and the fresh baked bread in the basket on the seat between her and Erik would be the icing on the proverbial cake.

  An hour later, when the soup bowls were empty and the bread was little more than crumbs on the green and white checkered placemats, Per sat with his fingers steepled, listening to her tell her story, white brows furrowed over lively blue eyes. Only those eyes weren't smiling today.