St. Marin's Cozy Mystery Series Box Set - Volume 1 : Books 1-3

Chapter 2-2

When we arrived at the store, I unlocked the shop door, smiling as the bell rang above me, and held it open for Mart as she headed right to the register with most of my savings in small bills to make change.

I walked to the back of the store and turned on a second bank of lights by the art and gardening books. I’d wait a bit before I turned on everything since I wasn’t quite ready for customers yet. Opening time for this first day was eight a.m. since I’d promised fresh baked goods, hot coffee, and plenty of hot cocoa in the café. I expected my only employee – Raquel – to be in shortly to staff the food and beverage side of things.

Rocky, as she preferred to be called, was a tender but confident young woman of about twenty. She took classes at Salisbury, a local university, but still lived at home. Each time I’d met with her to plan the café, her hair had been done in another stylish look – once she had long braids, once a wild pixy cut that framed her face and set off her light-brown skin perfectly. Someday, I’d get up the nerve to get tips on hairstyles from her. But today, I had just managed to get a little pomade in to tame my curls in the short cut I’ve gotten from the salon up the street. The last thing I needed was to worry about a bad hair day.

While I fussed with the books a bit more, Mart made sure the register was stocked and the tablet that we’d use to take credit cards was working. Then, she began laying small piles of postcards with the shop hours, events, and contact information on all the tables. If she didn’t already have a job (and if I had the money), I’d be looking to hire her as my marketing advisor. She was so good at this stuff.

The bell chimed, and Rocky came in with her arms full of what looked to be cinnamon rolls doused in icing. Despite my full breakfast, my mouth started watering. “What are those?” Mart asked, coming over to help Rocky carry everything.

“My mom makes the best cinnamon rolls. She whipped up a batch this morning for the grand opening.”

I gently peeled back the plastic wrap and leaned down to take a long, slow inhale. “Is that maple icing?”

“Sure is. Mom’s specialty.”

“I’ll be having one of those later,” I said, “and maybe if we get good traffic today, we could ask your mom if she’d make these for us regularly.” This weekend would bring the biggest off-seasons crowds for the Tubman festival, so I sure hoped it meant we’d get some good traffic, too.

“I expect she could be persuaded,” Rocky said as she pushed back the stray strand of black hair that had slipped forward from her gorgeous halo of curls. “I’ll get everything set up.”

The café was small, just three or four tables in what used to be the garage bay of the gas station, a counter, a baked goods case, and an espresso machine, but I hoped it would encourage customers to stay a while. St. Marin’s didn’t have a formal coffee shop, so I wanted this to be a place people would hang out, do a little work, maybe read a book and make a purchase, too.

At the back of the garage bay behind the café, Woody and a friend had built a wall and created a storeroom for me. Right now, it was mostly empty since I couldn’t afford to have much inventory that wasn’t already on the floor, but I looked forward to seeing boxes of books, especially for author events and holiday sales, filling the space.

I took a quick look around the shop to be sure everything was good and then headed to the back to get a few more of the paper bags Mart had bought for the grand opening. They each had our shop name and a sketch of the storefront printed on them, and I wanted to be certain Rocky had some for the café in case anyone wanted to take a pastry for the road.

I stepped into the back room and flipped on the light. Then, I screamed.

There, on the floor, was the body of a woman. She was sprawled out like whatever had killed her had taken her by surprise, and while I didn’t see any blood, I was sure she was dead. There’s just something about a living person’s body – a movement even when that person is still – that a dead body doesn’t have. This was my second time finding someone dead, and I didn’t love that now I’d have two images of lifeless bodies haunting me.

Mart and Rocky came running and stopped short as soon as they could see over my shoulders. “Oh my word,” Rocky said.

I took a deep breath and reached for my phone just as Mart said, “Isn’t that the reporter who was here the other day? The rude woman?”

With a few more steps, I was at the body. I leaned down, and sure enough, it was Lucia Stevensmith. “Maybe we shouldn’t call her rude anymore,” I said to Mart. I was trying to lighten the mood, but really I just wanted to cry. Someone had died in my store on my opening day.