Espressos Eggnogs and Evil Exes

  Espressos, Eggnogs, and Evil Exes

  A Cape Bay Cafe Mystery Book 7

  Harper Lin

  Harper Lin Books

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  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Espressos, Eggnogs, and Evil Exes

  Copyright © 2018 by Harper Lin.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  www.harperlin.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Recipe 1: Homemade Eggnog

  Recipe 2: Eggnog Latte

  All Books by Harper Lin

  A Note From Harper

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Sweets and a Stabbing

  Chapter 1

  “10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . “

  I chanted the numbers along with my friends and millions of strangers up and down the Eastern seaboard as the big crystal ball slowly made its descent over Times Square in New York City.

  I was, fortunately, snug and cozy in my house, watching the ball drop on TV instead of in person. I’d done that before, and I was much happier cuddled up on the couch with my boyfriend Matt and a glass of champagne than I’d been standing in the freezing cold for hours on end just to watch some underwhelming pop stars lip sync—badly, in most cases—to their greatest hits while bouncing around the stage wearing either just enough to keep them on the right side of the law or a fur coat big enough that they looked more like a bear than a human being. After you’d suffered through that, the ball drop was exciting just because it meant you could finally go home.

  “ . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . “

  I was enjoying this New Year’s Eve for more reasons than just that it was spent surrounded by my friends, beside a roaring fire in the comfort of my own home. The year had been a long one. A tough one. A painful one. My entire life had fallen apart in the past year. I’d thought I was settled, working a stressful but fulfilling job and living with the man I thought I’d marry in the city that never sleeps. But then the man ran off with another woman, leaving me on the hook for an apartment I couldn’t afford on my own. I should have picked up and moved home then, but I didn’t. Not until my mother dropped dead at the way-too-young age of fifty-five, leaving my childhood home and the family business—Antonia’s Italian Café—to me.

  “ . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . “

  And then, somehow, I seemed to have taken up the hobby of solving murders in my small home town of Cape Bay on the coast of Massachusetts. The murders themselves had been shocking—Cape Bay’s crime had been limited to petty theft and light vandalism. But this year there had been a series of murders, and I’d managed to get myself involved in investigating every single one of them. I’d solved them, but I was still looking forward to the fresh start of the new year. A new year I hoped would have as little death as possible—although if the sad little ficus in the corner of my living room finally gave up, I wouldn’t be too torn up. Whatever other talents I had, caring for plants was not one of them.

  “ . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . ”

  What I did want in the new year was more of what I had right at that moment—my new boyfriend beside me, my friends gathered ‘round, and my beloved Berger Picard dog sprawled across my lap. That, as far as I was concerned, was all I ever needed. Well, and maybe a good cup of coffee, but my espresso machine in the kitchen could handle that.

  “ . . . Happy New Year!”

  I looked into Matt’s warm, smiling brown eyes and tipped my head towards him. He bent his head and kissed me warmly, softly, tenderly. In spite of the room full of people, I was tempted to let the kiss go on and on. It was perfect. But then I remembered something.

  I caught Matt looking confused out of the corner of my eye as I turned around to look at my friend Sammy, sitting on the other side of my small living room next to her maybe-boyfriend Ryan. She looked innocently back at me, maybe too innocently. She and Ryan had been flirting for months now, and were all pretty sure they were together, but she still stubbornly denied that anything was going on between them despite all the evidence to the contrary. I had hoped that I’d be able to catch them sharing the traditional New Year’s kiss, but I was either too late or they hadn’t done it. Based on the looks on their faces, I suspected I’d missed it.

  I caught our friend and coworker Rhonda’s eye she shook her head slightly and shrugged. She hadn’t caught what Sammy and Ryan did or didn’t do either. Then Rhonda tipped her head towards the fourth couple in our little quartet. It was Sammy’s best friend Dawn and her boyfriend of the moment, Jack or Jay or Jason—something like that. I couldn’t keep up with them, but it didn’t really matter because he’d be replaced by someone new within a couple of weeks. But for now, they were all over each other. All. Over. Each. Other. Right there in the middle of my living room with the rest of us looking on—or looking away uncomfortably.

  Rhonda nudged her husband and pointed towards Dawn. He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. She laughed. He laughed too, which made Rhonda laugh harder. Soon the two of them were lost in a giggle fit, which spread to me and then Matt, and then Sammy and Ryan. Even with all six of us cracking up, it still took Dawn and Jared or Jaden or Jacob a few seconds to look up.

  “What?” Dawn asked, wiping at the corner of her mouth.

  Jacques or Javier or Jamiroquai stared at us blankly—he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed—when we all laughed harder as we saw the smear of dark red lipstick around his mouth.

  Dawn at least caught on and started laughing too. “Oh, honey,” she said and licked her thumb to rub the lipstick off his face. It only made it redder. Dawn shrugged and gave up. Her boyfriend looked completely unconcerned as he slugged back his glass of champagne.

  At least that reminded me that I had planned to use the champagne for a toast.

  “A toast!” I said, harnessing my giggles as I held my champagne glass up. I tried to sit up straighter, too, but Latte, proving nothing got in the way of my dog and his sleep, remained stubbornly sprawled across my lap.

  At least everyone paid attention to me anyway and raised their glasses in the air, even Dawn’s boyfriend whose glass was empty.

  “To new friends—” I began, gesturing towards Sammy and Rhonda. “—and old—” I gestured to Matt. “To new experiences and coming home again. And to fresh starts. Because I think we could all use one after last year.” I paused again and looked around at my friends—the people I considered my new family. Well, except for Jackson or Jacopo or Jafar. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers!” my friends said.

  I clinked my glass against Matt’s and then Rhonda’s since they were the only two I could reach, and drank
my champagne down. It was a little warmer than I would have liked—I poured it too early—but it was still bubbly and tasty.

  “That’s good champagne,” Dawn said. “You have any more?”

  “Nope. But there’s still plenty of eggnog,” I said.

  “Ooh, that was good, too,” Dawn said. Then she narrowed her eyes at me. “Wait, you mean the one with or without the rum?”

  I narrowed my eyes back. “That depends on how you’re planning to get home.”

  For a second, she looked panicked, even though she lived less than a mile away and I was pretty sure she’d walked over. Habit, I guessed.

  “I’ll make sure she gets home,” Ryan said.

  Sammy flashed him a smile.

  “Ryan’s taking me,” Dawn said, as if she thought I hadn’t heard him.

  “To your apartment,” Ryan said quickly. “I mean, I’ll make sure you get back to your apartment okay. You and—” He waved his hand in the direction of Dawn’s date like he couldn’t remember his name either. “—him. Assuming he’s going back to your place, I mean.”

  “Oh, he is,” she nodded with a smug look on her face and went to sip her empty glass of champagne. “Ugh. I forgot.” She held it out towards whatever his name was. “Babe, could you get me some more?”

  “I’ll get it!” Sammy said, hopping up quickly and grabbing the glass from Dawn’s hand. I had a feeling she was more interested in making sure Dawn didn’t drink too much than in saving the boyfriend of the month the trouble of getting up. She picked up the empty plastic drink cup from the table next to Dawn, too. “Anyone else?”

  “I’ll take some,” Matt said.

  I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What?”

  “You don’t need Sammy to get your drinks for you. You’re the co-host tonight. You don’t have your guests get your drinks for you.”

  “She offered,” he protested.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to accept.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Well, my girlfriend could always get me some.”

  “I would, but—” I said, and gestured at Latte still sprawled across my lap. As if by magic though, he decided to take that moment to reposition himself—on Matt’s lap instead of mine.

  “Problem solved!” Matt said.

  I shook my head at him as I stood up. “Anyone else?”

  “A glass of water?” Rhonda’s husband Dan asked.

  “Sure thing. Anyone else?”

  “Just make sure Sam gets me the eggnog with the rum, okay?” Dawn asked.

  “Of course.” With no one else making any requests and Sammy already disappeared around the corner, I headed for the kitchen.

  When I got there though, Sammy wasn’t ladling eggnog into Dawn’s cup. Instead, she was staring at her phone, her face white as a ghost’s.

  Chapter 2

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  The way Sammy was staring at her phone, I knew that whatever had upset her had to do with what she saw on it. We still had the TV on in the other room, so I knew it couldn’t be some horrible event somewhere in the world. Her phone hadn’t rung, so no one had called her to deliver bad news. A text? But how bad could it be if someone was texting her to tell her?

  “Sammy?”

  She looked up, startled. “Fran! I, uh, I didn’t see you there,” she said hurriedly as she shoved her phone into her pocket.

  I abandoned the glasses I’d brought into the kitchen on the counter and took a step closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! Why do you ask?” Even if I hadn’t seen the look on her face moments before, the strained tone of her voice and the too-bright expression on her face would have been dead giveaways that something was going on.

  “Because I saw the look on your face when I walked in here and how fast you shoved your phone in your pocket and plastered that fake smile on your face when you saw me. You’re obviously upset about something.”

  “It’s no big deal.” She shook her head and kept smiling blankly.

  “Sammy?” I used the same tone I used with Latte when he was hiding a chew toy he didn’t want me to remember he had. But Sammy didn’t try to distract me with sad puppy dog eyes. Instead she just kept looking at me with scared blue ones like she hoped I’d give up. She was wrong. I took another step towards her and reached out to brush her arm supportively. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  She stared at me for a few more seconds then exhaled like she’d been holding her breath. “I got another text from Cheryl.”

  “Ryan’s ex?”

  She nodded.

  “She’s still doing that?”

  She nodded again.

  I made a face. The Cheryl in question had shown up in town a few weeks earlier, shortly before Christmas, and had set up camp in my café, the better to harass Sammy. After I kicked her out and told her not to come back, she’d switched to texting Sammy. A lot. When Sammy first told me about it, back on Christmas Eve, she’d already gotten dozens of messages in just a week’s time. She’d told me Cheryl sent them all day, every day. And she signed them all “Love, Cheryl.” It was definitely creepy. And I was ashamed to admit that between the holidays themselves and not seeing Sammy as much with the café on limited hours because of them, I’d basically forgotten about the texts after she told me.

  “Was it bad?”

  She dug her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and thrust it towards me.

  I took it and looked at the last message to come in.

  Happy New Year! Hope you and Ry-Ry are having a great time at your party! You’re so lucky to have so many great friends! Love, Cheryl PS—Your apartment is SO cute!!! xxxx

  A little chill ran down my spine and not because my kitchen was a little drafty.

  I started scrolling up through the previous messages from Cheryl. There were a lot of them. A lot. A frightening amount. I didn’t read each one, but all the ones I did had the same overly-cheerful, creepily-personal tone. Too many of them mentioned Sammy’s clothing or hairstyle, or commented on what she’d done that day.

  I looked up from the phone. “Does Ryan know about this?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sammy, you have to tell him!”

  “No. I can’t.”

  “You can’t? Why not?”

  She shrugged.

  “He’s the reason why she’s harassing you. Maybe he can do something to get her to stop. And if he can’t, he’s a cop. He can get her to stop that way.”

  She shook her head again.

  “Why not?” I felt almost childish demanding an answer from her like that, like I may as well stomp my foot and pout about it.

  She stared at the floor and wrapped a lock of blonde hair tightly around her finger. Finally, she answered. “I don’t want to be that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl?” I didn’t know what she meant. The kind of girl who sticks up for herself? The kind who doesn’t let herself get walked all over? The kind who doesn’t end up as the true story some creepy TV movie is based on?

  “The high maintenance kind who always has some kind of drama.”

  “Oh, Sammy.” I went to give her a hug but had only just stepped towards her when Dawn walked in. Sammy grabbed her phone away from me and shoved it back in her pocket. Something about it made me feel even more uneasy than I already did.

  “What’s taking so long?” Dawn announced, loud enough that I was pretty sure my neighbors could hear her.

  “Just got distracted chit-chatting,” Sammy said quickly. She picked up one of the cups she’d brought in and ladled it full of eggnog. The non-alcoholic, I noticed. She handed it to Dawn who immediately slugged it back.

  “Bleh!” Dawn stuck her tongue out like she’d tasted something disgusting. “You gave me the wrong one!” She dumped it out in the sink—without rinsing it down—then refilled her cup from the other bowl. She picked up the bottle of rum next to the bowl and dumped a couple of healthy glugs into the already
boozy eggnog.

  “You know you could have just added rum to the first cup,” I said, stepping over the sink and turning the faucet on to clear away the milky residue.

  Dawn thought for a second. “Yeah, I could have.” She shrugged. “Oh well.” She added another hefty dose of rum to her cup. I didn’t envy her the hangover she would certainly have the next morning.

  “Hey, we’re going to take off,” Rhonda said, poking her head into the room.

  “Have to go pick up the boys?” I asked. Rhonda’s two teenage sons had been invited to ring in the New Year with a friend whose mother had apparently been adamant that no one but the people who lived in her house would be spending the night. Rhonda had already entertained us with an impression of the woman earlier in the night.

  “Yep. We’re already pushing it to get them by twelve-thirty. Did I tell you she originally wanted everyone picked up by twelve-fifteen? Why have them over if you’re going to kick them all out ASAP?” She sighed. “Anyway, thanks for having us.” She hugged me, then Sammy, then Dawn. “Coats?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’ll get them.” I scurried out of the kitchen and through the living room to what had, for most of my life, been my grandparents’ bedroom. I’d been living alone in the house for nearly six months now and still hadn’t gotten myself moved into it. I’d finally cleaned it out, but hadn’t yet managed to get much further in the process. I told myself it was because I was so busy with the café.

  I came out a moment later with Rhonda and Dan’s coats, only to find the rest of my guests gathered around the door too. “You’re leaving already?”

  Ryan looked over at Dawn who was leaning heavily on what’s-his-name. He, in turn, was barely keeping himself vertical. “It’s for the best,” Ryan said.

  I nodded wordlessly, handed Rhonda and Dan their coats and went back for the others.

  It had been unseasonably warm for the few days, but even unseasonably warm on the coast, in Massachusetts, in the middle of the night, in January was pretty cold. It took a good several minutes for everyone to get themselves, and then Dawn and her escort all bundled up.