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end of MURDER ON THE PLAYA

WRITTEN TO DEATH

A Sandie James Mystery

Book 4

Sandie and Family

Sandra (Sandie) James . Mystery author and reluctant amateur sleuth. Her career so far: three successfully solved murders and a published murder mystery. She’s getting ready to go on her first book tour next month.

Sandie is thirty, five foot seven, slender and attractive with hazel eyes and wavy, chestnut hair. Rather graceful from taking ballet classes as a child. Works part-time in her sister’s bakery. Her boyfriend, Liam, is a bartender at Luce della Vita, studying to be a high-school teacher. They’ve been dating for months but still haven’t made plans for the future.

Sandie lives with her roommate and best friend, Felisha. When not writing or working at the bakery, she loves gardening and playing with her dad’s springer spaniel, Marlowe.

Katherine (Kathy) Thompson, older sister and owner of Kathy’s Bakery, the best bakery in the world (according to Sandie, anyway).

Kathy is thirty-nine. She is petite, dark-haired, and thin, despite being a bakery owner. Or perhaps because of it—the job takes a lot of energy. She is going through a tough separation from her husband, Jeff Thompson, who is determined to get his money’s worth from the divorce.

Recently, she’s been getting close with her long-time college friend, Tray Carpenter, a pastry chef with a successful internet cooking show. To the whole family’s delight, Tray is Jeff’s opposite, in every way that counts. He makes no secret that he is smitten with Kathy, but they’re keeping things friendly until Kathy’s divorce is final.

William (Will) James, Sandie’s younger brother. Police detective at the local precinct.

Will is twenty-nine, tall, and lanky with blond hair and deep-blue eyes. Has a strong penchant (some would say an obsession) with XTRA Screamin’ Dill Pickle Pringles, which he eats every morning before going on shift, as he believes them to be his good-luck charm. When not preoccupied with his job, his smile can light up the whole room.

Will is fiercely protective of his sisters.

Nicolas Andrew James, the gang’s father.

Retired. Runs a used bookstore from the first floor of his two-story brownstone with the yellow façade, the same house where the siblings grew up. Considers the bookstore more of a hobby than a business.

Nicolas is sixty-one and is in decent shape. He has dark-brown eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a strong nose. Dresses mostly in faded t-shirts and jeans.

Is the owner of a happy Springer Spaniel named Marlowe who is never far away when it comes to helping Sandie solve another murder. Marlowe, of course, is named after Philip Marlowe, the famous literary detective from the mysteries of Raymond Chandler. Some might say, Nicolas is obsessed with the books. Whatever the case, his collection of the first editions is still missing The Big Sleep, the first book in the series. This is a source of great distress to Nicolas.

P.S. Nicolas also owns two temperamental cats, Asimov and Hemingway. So far, they’ve shown no interest in solving murders.

Chapter 1

Tuesday

If talking about yourself had been an Olympic sport Jack Crawford would surely take home the gold.

I glanced at the time on my phone.

Ninety-two minutes into the workshop and the man still hadn’t run out of breath. Unless the others found his prattling entertaining, things were off to a rocky start.

A quick scan of the room proved my fears to be well-founded. The woman sitting across from me whose name tag read Shannon O’Quinn, gave every indication of rethinking her decision to come.

A first-time author of a romantic mystery, Shannon had flown in all the way from Ireland. She was tall and slender and immediately impressed everyone with her lovely smile.

That was yesterday, the day before Jack Crawford arrived. Today she sat with her hands crossed, tightly pressed lips a patent indicator of annoyance.

The other eight students, their ages ranging from fifteen to late fifties, slouched in various shades of boredom around the country-style table that took up half of my sister’s bakery.

Like Shannon, they came to the workshop hoping to polish their novels under the expert guidance of Randall Hyde, an award-winning writer and founder of the Mystery Writers’ Guild.

Like Shannon, they didn’t seem to think they were getting their money’s worth. 

The success of the workshop meant a chance to save my sister’s bakery from her soon-to-be ex-husband, Jeff.

The idea came from John Edwards, a book collector from Boston I had befriended. He was resourceful and well-connected and when Kathy’s estranged husband demanded they split the bakery in the divorce, I knew John was the one to go to for advice.

John didn’t disappoint. After a few days of brainstorming, he came back to me with an article from a literary journal.

The Mystery Writers’ Guild and the National Baker’s Association were teaming up to organize a contest; they would hold five writing workshops at five different bakeries across the country. The bakery that provided the best venue would receive a monetary prize, substantial enough for Kathy to pay off Jeff without having to sell her business.

So far the workshops at the other four venues had gone off with a bang, and Kathy and I knew we had some serious competition.

Still, I was hopeful. Our cozy little bakery in the middle of a tree-lined block, with its red-and-white awning and the best cheesecake brownies in town, had as good a chance as any to win.

That is until Jack Crawford, the Guild’s treasurer, showed up.

His debut mystery had just been accepted for publication, and the man apparently decided our workshop would be a good place to start his self-promotion campaign.

Determined to keep everyone else from getting a word in, he’d already treated us to an account of where he was when he got the idea for his book and many endless stories about the praise he received from his family members.

The only person who appeared to be unbothered by Jack’s talking was Randall Hyde. He seemed content to just sit back and pick the chocolate chips from his morning muffin, carefully stacking them on the side of his plate.

Behind the coffee counter, Valeria, Kathy’s veteran employee, stifled a yawn as she stirred the iced lattes for our lunch break. Kevin, the new guy, leaned over and whispered something in her ear while staring at Hyde and she nodded and wrinkled her nose.

Even those two could tell the workshop was in trouble. If this kept up the students would start asking for their refunds soon and then it wouldn’t matter that my sister served the best brownies. Without the students there’d be no workshop, and the prize money would go to another bakery. 

I lowered my eyes to the yellow pad in front of me. The page which should’ve been filled with notes by now, had a doodle of a flower in the top right corner. I played a round of tic-tac-toe with myself, making sure to throw the game just to keep me on my toes.

Meanwhile, Randall Hyde finished taking apart his muffin, scooped up the chocolate chips he had collected and sent the entire handful into his mouth.

Seeing me watching him, he gave me a leer and scratched the hairy knuckle of his right pinky.

How had all this unraveled so quickly? Yesterday, the only hiccup that happened was when Naveen, the thirty-four-year-old sportswear designer from Canada, arrived late in the day. His tardiness seemed to upset Hyde who appeared alarmed at the interruption, but Naveen’s profuse apology put things back on track.

Today we were supposed to be discussing our works in progress, not listen to Crawford boast about his novel.

At the other end of the table, the man launched into yet another story. His third cousin loved his mystery so much he’d read it aloud to his dog, Meatloaf, who barked every time the murderer appeared on the scene. Fascinating.

But maybe also an opportunity...

Dogs and crime. As it happened, I could say plenty on the subject.

I’m not surprised, I said, deliberately raising my voice. Dogs are very intuitive. Take Marlowe, my dad’s springer spaniel. He was amazing at helping me solve a murder at my friend’s wedding this spring. If it weren’t for Marlowe I probably wouldn’t even be alive today.

Okay! That got results.

Having glimpsed a conversational lifeboat on the horizon, the others clamored for it, begging to hear the full story, and I was more than happy to oblige. I told them about the murder at Geraldine and Henry’s island wedding and how, while chasing down a clue, I woke up in a flooded cave after being ambushed by the killer.

Luckily, Marlowe had been with me that day. He saved me from drowning and earned himself a year of steak dinners as a recompense.

Don’t ever underestimate dogs when it comes to crime solving, I said as I finished telling the story.

True that, the guy whose name tag read Carlos Perez, said. He was big and jovial, lived in the Bronx and was writing a sci-fi mystery about a detective with a bionic hand. That’s why the police use dogs to sniff out drugs, he said. They’re cool. Not as cool as space ninjas, but who is?

Carlos had told us yesterday how much he liked space ninjas and that there were a lot of them in his book, so I wasn’t sure if his last comment was a joke. But everyone laughed. Everyone except Crawford who I was beginning to think was devoid of a sense of humor. 

The police use dogs for their sense of smell, not as detectives, he said, looking annoyed. And, Mr. Perez, no one’s going to take you seriously if you go around talking about space ninjas all. You’ll be the joke of the writing community. Trust me, I didn’t get my publishing contract writing about funny robots. I wrote about subjects that matter. Just a friendly tip, young man. He gave Carlos a wink.

Carlos stiffened. Don’t call me young man, bro. I’m thirty-seven.

Crawford blinked, taken aback. Then he chuckled again. You look younger than your age. Oh, well, my mistake. Anyway, I’m forty-three so I still have seniority over you. Plus, I’ve got more experience in the publishing industry. Not trying to brag or be mean here, but it pays to listen to what I say. 

Carlos fixed Crawford with an open glare, while the rest of us shifted uncomfortably.

Janet, the twenty-seven-year-old philosophy student from Utah, suddenly put aside her Tupperware bowl of salad which she’d been crunching on and ignoring the food Kathy had provided.

So, like, who put you in charge here, anyway?

She said it rather loudly for someone who had barely spoken five words since the start of the workshop.

Crawford spluttered but quickly recovered again and seemed on the verge of saying something nasty, when Hyde finally spoke up.

Alright, alright. We’re getting off-topic here, guys.

Understatement of the century.

He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, balled it up and tossed it into the trash can in the corner, missing by several inches. The greasy ball ricocheted off the wall and rolled back toward our table, coming to rest next to Hyde’s briefcase.

Oops. Hyde grinned at Valeria and Kevin who were watching from behind the counter. At least now you kids have something to do. With us crazy writers commandeering the place I was starting to worry you might get downsized.

Valeria returned his grin with one toothy enough to put you in mind of a shark going for the diver’s shin.

Yo, no problem. We love picking up trash after customers.

She slid her left hand under the tray with the twelve iced lattes she’d made and carried it over, her strong bicep bulging with menace. While she set the tray on the table, Kevin came over to pick up Hyde’s napkin. He tossed it into the trash can and put a stack of fresh napkins in front of Hyde.

Here you go, man. You can keep practicing your hoops.

The older guy stretched lazily in his chair. Oh, I’ll keep practicing, as long as you keep picking up my misses. Misses—messes. Get it?

Good one. Kevin smiled but his eyes remained cold.

The rest of us pretended not to notice Hyde’s rudeness by focusing our attention on the lattes. Dark and rich and swirling with cream, they went a long way toward lightening the mood. And when Kevin brought over two large raspberry tarts and a heaping plate of chocolate chip cookies, there were even a few smiles of approval. 

Mmm. Robin, the fifty-five-year-old newspaper accountant from Florida, grabbed five cookies from the tray and stacked them up next to her slice of the raspberry tart. I’d say this was sinful, if it wasn’t so heavenly. I’m gonna need to get back on that treadmill when I get home.

Carlos waved her off. Please. You look like you could put away a dozen of those and still look stellar.

Oh, I wish that were true! She chortled and patted her short curls, looking pleased. But I do have to get in shape. Going to Hawaii next month for a vacation slash research trip for my novel.

David Brown, the soon-to-be-retired astronomer from South Carolina, smiled wistfully and adjusted his bifocals. Hawaii... I must say, that’s a nice way to do research. With the budget cuts at the university, this is the first trip I’ve taken in three years.

Like I said, I’m sinful. Robin took a cookie and dipped it into the latte. But my mystery takes place in Hawaii, and my detective is a windsurfer dude. So I think a trip in person will add believability to my story. How about you? What are you aiming for with your book?

David shrugged. Honestly? Just hoping to get published so that I might have a little retirement nest egg for those golden years.

She patted his hand with affection. Oh, honey, I feel you. We all love writing, but what’s life without a nest egg?

Crawford gave a short laugh. I wouldn’t count on it, people. First novels almost never get published. Well, mine did. But that was an exception, not the rule.

Everyone turned to stare at him. In the fallen hush, you could almost hear hopes and dreams being smashed to bits. Only Robin looked unfazed. She dusted the cookie crumbs from her knit dress and smiled calmly.

Lindy, the fifteen-year-old high school student from Texas, raised her hand, speaking for the first time. Is that true? First novels never get published?

Hyde leaned back in his chair with a sardonic smile. Truer than I like to admit. Sorry to burst your bubble, folks. It’s a long, hard road to publication so if you’re looking for a quick payoff, I’d suggest you get out of the game while you’re still ahead.

He glanced around at the others as he broke a cookie apart and popped a piece in his mouth, then took a sip of coffee and licked his lips.

That being said, it's time to dive into our manuscripts. We’re going to be reading our first chapters today, so get your pages out.

They did, looking worried and subdued. But at least the class was moving along again.

Or so I thought. 

It soon became apparent that Crawford was determined to stay actively involved, telling several of the students that their prose was ugly and their stories stupid.

Hyde wasn’t pulling any punches, either. When it came to Carlos’s turn to read his chapter, Hyde interrupted him with a loud groan.

Look, man. Here’s my advice to you: forget the whole spaceship thing. Get rid of it. Your story could take place in a restaurant or something. Make your character a regular guy and replace the ninjas with racketeers. Then you’ll have something worth writing about. Get what I’m saying?

Carlos’s face turned red as he put away his pages, fumbling a little. I don’t know... I mean, I like stories about space. I’ve always loved sci-fi— 

It’s silly, Crawford interrupted. Do you want to write a novel your sci-fi nerd friends will like, or do you want to write one that gets published? Listen to what we tell you. Randall’s latest mystery topped The New York Times bestseller list, and I’ve got a book deal. We’d never have gotten this far without knowing a thing or two about writing good fiction.

Carlos’s face went from red to purple. No doubt, had it been just the two of them, fists would be flying by now.

The charged atmosphere made my skin prickle. Thank goodness it was almost lunchtime. A timeout and some good food might help reduce the hostility.

Unfortunately Valeria and Kevin had disappeared into the back room. 

Ever since Kevin started working at Kathy’s Bakery, Valeria had been distracted, often vanishing into the back with him and leaving a line of customers at the front.

I pushed my chair away from the table, wondering where my sister was and why it always fell to me to save the day.

Valeria and Kevin were in the back room alright, locked in a make-out session that would put most steamy romance novels to shame. Not something you ever want to see from the people serving you your morning coffee.

I started to retreat back to the café, then stopped.

This was all kinds of wrong and it had to be dealt with. Especially since my sister wasn’t around to do it.

I sighed. I was being too hard on Kathy and that wasn’t fair. She was probably in her tiny basement office downstairs, going over the books and accepting cake orders for the week. Even with the café closed to customers she would still be making her nightly deliveries, and with Jeff out of the picture she needed my help now more than ever.

I gave a quiet cough to let the love birds know that they weren’t alone. Which got me nowhere, so I upped the volume.

They finally broke apart and stared at me.

I put some authority into my voice. You do know we’re waiting for those sandwiches up front, right?

Valeria grinned, unapologetic. Yo, gangsta! Just taking a little break, no biggie. Don’t rat me out to your sis, okay?

She play-punched me on the arm as she headed back to the café, making me wince at what was surely a bruise-in-the-making. I often wondered if Valeria honestly didn’t know her own strength, or if she just couldn’t help displaying it.

At least Kevin had the decency to look embarrassed as he followed her out.

I hung back a few moments, my neck stiff with tension.

Was this competition a big mistake? Kathy had signed up for it on my advice, trusting my judgment. What if my judgment was wrong this time?

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

This venture had to pay off. It simply had to. I couldn’t let my sister lose the one thing that meant so much to her. Today hadn’t gone well, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t still pick up. Right?

My hopes fizzled as soon as I entered the café again.

Hyde was leaning forward on the table with a leer aimed at Shannon who had apparently just told the class that she was married.

You know, no pressure or anything, but if you ditch your hubby and go out with me, I can make sure your novel gets to the right acquisitions editor.

Shannon stared at him, looking rigid.

I shut my eyes. My earlier assessment of the workshop had been too optimistic. It wasn’t off to a rocky start.

It was a full-on disaster.

Chapter 2

Daylight barely turned to dusk over the city when the hanging lights of Luce della Vita’s rooftop restaurant sprang to life, bathing the tables in their soft glow and wrapping the patrons in a warm embrace like some enchanted vines in a distant fairyland.

A waiter carrying a tray of votive candles made his way over to our table of twelve. The tiny flames flickered in the breeze as he set the candles down, and so did his smile. He quickly turned on his heels and hurried back to his station at the small auxiliary bar near the stairs, no doubt sensing that his candlelight wasn’t enough to dispel the clouds of tension over our group. 

The dinner had been scheduled into the workshop ahead of time, a sort of let’s-get-acquainted initiative. Like today’s workshop, it was failing to live up to the expectations.

Hyde and Crawford, the only ones who looked at ease, were getting intimately acquainted with the wine bottles collecting at their end of the table. The more they drank the more their conversation, which at the start of dinner could have passed for intellectual, began to resemble troll-speak from The Lord of the Rings. I made a mental note to call them an Uber back to their hotels so they wouldn’t be left to stagger the city streets and turn to stone at sunrise.

The rest of us sat around sipping from our wine glasses—except for Naveen whose religion prohibited alcohol—and smiled stiffly at one another. For once in my life I found myself envying Kathy for being out on deliveries, the part of the bakery business I usually hated.

My husband was against my coming to the workshop, Shannon said suddenly in a low voice. I’m starting to think I should’ve listened to him.

Is he waiting for you back home? Robin asked.

Oh, no. When I told him I was going anyway, he decided to come along. He’s American, but it’s been years since he’s seen the city, so he was looking forward to catching up with old friends. He’ll be at the hotel waiting to hear all about the workshop. She sighed. At least, he’s not the type to say I told you so.

Robin gave her a sympathetic nod and asked if her husband had relatives in the U.S.

I didn’t hear Shannon’s reply, distracted by the sudden lull in the troll-like grunts at the other end of the table. Crawford had finally talked himself into a sleepy stupor and sat with his head propped up on his fist, listening with rapt attention to whatever the wine bottle was telling him. Abruptly, he got up and headed away from the table on unsteady feet, then paused and looked around in confusion. As a waiter hurried past him, he grabbed him by the forearm as if clinging to a lifeboat and said something slowly, nose poking the other in the ear.

The waiter leaned away from him, wiping the look of disgust from his face and rearranging his features to express detached professionalism, then said in a rather loud voice that the bathrooms were located on the first floor.

Crawford stared at him, looking dismal. That’s too far, man. My legs protest at the thought of such a long trek and my joints scream in despair... But it can’t be helped. Just got to do it...

He shook his head to rally himself for the long journey and resumed his unsteady walk to the stairs.

The others began to wander off, too. Some headed for the bar, others downstairs to play pool.

A woman at the next table whose blind date had failed to show up caught Hyde’s attention and it didn’t take him long to convince her to migrate over to us. She took Crawford’s chair, chortling loudly as Hyde filled her glass with what was left in his bottle, then decided that Hyde’s lap would make for a more comfortable seat.

With that, I knew it was time to follow the others’ example and head downstairs. Maybe I could hang out with my boyfriend, if the main bar wasn’t too crowded. With all the preparations for the workshop lately, Liam and I had barely spent any time together. 

As I passed the auxiliary bar near the stairwell, I saw Crawford leaning against the counter in the corner. He was talking to the empty chair next to him, trying to convince it that his book was destined to hit the bestseller lists on publication.

I hurried past him, wondering if he’d ever made it to the bathroom, or simply forgot he had to go, and was halfway down the stairs when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I walked faster in case it was Crawford, having finally remembered about his bladder. The last thing I wanted was to have to carry him all the way downstairs.

The next moment David, the astronomer from North Carolina, caught up to me, panting and out of breath.

Dear me, you’re a fast walker! I had to practically run after you.

Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize it was you.

No harm, no foul. He shook his head thoughtfully. So here we are, eh? Second day. Gotta tell you, Hyde’s exactly the same as he was the last time. Don’t know why I thought this would be any different. 

I stopped in my tracks. You mean, you took a class with him before? I had assumed this was everyone’s first time with the famous guy.

David nodded. He’s a big deal in the publishing world, even if on a personal level... well, you know. Last time he told me to invest in his friend’s editing services, said it would improve my chances at publication. Hasn’t happened yet but I guess Hyde would say nothing is a sure thing. Thought he’d at least remember me. Not even that. He gave a soft chuckle. Let’s hope the rest of the week goes better than today.

We reached downstairs and David headed into the back room where our fellow students had commandeered the pool table.

I looked into the bar, but Liam was busy with a rowdy crowd toasting someone’s birthday, so I wandered into the back after David. Naveen leaned over the table to break while the others stood back against the wall waiting for their turn.

As I walked in, Carlos and Robin acknowledged me with friendly smiles. Carlos took the blue chalk and began to polish his pool cue. So. A bummer about first books not getting published. Did you know about that before today? 

I was about to tell him that my first novel was actually due to be published next month but then thought better of it. He might think I was being boastful like Crawford.

It’s not a hard-and-fast rule, I told him instead. It’s just that everyone’s experience is different.

Robin stared ahead with conviction. I don’t care what those two goons back there say. My book is going to be published. And soon.

Yeah? Carlos raised an eyebrow at her. How do you know?

The Universe has been sending me signs everywhere I go. Also, my tarot reader confirmed it. And she said this workshop was going to be important for me. 

A tarot reader? Carlos and I exchanged dubious glances, unsure how to respond.

Wish I had your conviction, Carlos said. After today I don’t even know where I am anymore. He nodded at someone over my shoulder. What about you, man?

Glancing behind me I saw Thomas Middleton, the fifty-year-old architect from Canada. He was very tall and had light-blue eyes, half-hidden behind rimmed glasses. The twenties aviator mystery he was writing got torn to shreds in class, but he seemed completely unaffected by it. The perpetual uplift of his mouth gave off the impression that he was privy to some secret knowledge to which he alone had access. He rubbed his hands together and smiled more broadly.

You ask me what I think. I think... everything is for the best in the best of all worlds.

Carlos frowned at him. If you say so. But what makes you think this is the best of all worlds?

"He’s quoting Candide, I explained. It’s an old French satire that pokes fun at positive thinking. So I’m guessing Thomas is being sarcastic."

I glanced at the man for confirmation but he just kept smiling enigmatically.

It was Carlos’s turn to play, and he stepped up to the pool table and took his aim while Naveen leaned against the wall.

Maybe I need some of that positive thinking, Carlos said. I feel like I’ve had it with that Crawford guy. If he takes one more dig at me I swear I’m gonna punch him. Hyde, too. Don’t know if I’m coming back tomorrow. I could just call the Guild and ask for my money back.

And so it begins. I took a deliberately slow breath. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of: the students running for the hills.

I was upstairs earlier and had to leave, Naveen said as he propped his cue against the wall. Hyde had that woman sitting in his lap and was feeding her olives. It’s offensive.

He’s had too much to drink, Thomas said with a shrug. As our friend Ray Chandler once said, ‘I’m an occasional drinker, the kind of guy who goes out for a beer and wakes up in Singapore with a full beard.’

We laughed but Naveen just smiled sadly. The man is obviously looking for love and hasn’t found it yet, if he can behave in that way. I hope he finds it. Love changes people.

We all nodded vaguely and for a while no one said anything. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with Naveen about Hyde, but I felt touched.

Crawford’s even worse, Carlos went on. I really can’t stand him. You heard what he said about my book?

I judged it best to walk away from the conversation. We had four more days to spend together if everyone didn’t pull out by tomorrow and talking about Hyde and Crawford could only add fuel to the fire.

Besides, it looked like there was finally a lull at the bar up front. The rowdy birthday bunch had left, probably decided to move their party to the next venue. Some people could bar-hop all night, not that I ever counted myself among them.

There were now only two couples left, sitting far enough apart to have ample privacy. Liam was mixing a complicated drink for one of the young women.

I stopped at the other end of the bar to watch him work. Absorbed in his task, he bent his head over the drink, his longish, light-brown hair obscuring part of his face. Even after months of dating, seeing him like this gave me a pleasant flutter.

Just then, Liam looked up and saw me standing there. A smile instantly lit up his face as he gave me a wink.

Be with you in a moment, ma’am.

He grabbed an electric lighter from under the counter and brought the flame to the amber liquid in the glass, igniting it in a flash, then waited for the flames to subside. He placed the drink on the coaster in front of the young woman who clapped her hands in delight. Her date put a twenty on the counter.

Keep the change, man. That was awesome.

Liam blew on the extinguished lighter as if it were a pistol and put it away with a flourish, then strutted over to me, looking pleased with himself. And that’s how it’s done.

Hats off to the master.

I hopped onto the barstool and he leaned in over the counter to give me a kiss, then looked me in the eyes. You okay? I hear the workshop’s not going so great.

News travels fast.

A guy from your class told me, the one who only drinks club sodas. Apparently, the problem is there’s not enough love in the air.

I snorted. Naveen.

I glanced back toward the pool room. Robin was cleansing her pool cue with a clear crystal before breaking.

They look like a colorful bunch, Liam remarked.

Yeah. But I like them. Besides, they’re not the problem. I told him about Crawford and Hyde, and their boorish behavior that afternoon. I can’t blame the students for wanting to leave. I’d feel the same, if I were them. The worst part is if the workshop gets canceled, it’ll be all my fault for dragging Kathy into this.

I get that but don’t lose hope yet, he said. It’s only day two, things could still pick up.

Thanks for trying to cheer me up. I traced a line on the back of his hand with my finger. Are you coming over after work? I could wait up.

He gave me an apologetic smile. Would love to but I can’t—early class tomorrow. I’ll be lucky if I get an hour of sleep. Here until four, if I can get everyone out after last call, then home for a quick shower and then school.

I sighed. I’m looking forward to when you graduate. It’ll be so much easier once you start teaching.

I bit my lip. We’d never really talked about our future that far down the line. Was it presumptuous of me to assume we’d still be together three years from now?

Liam grinned.  What can I do? Us millennials, we’re taking things slow. At least I don’t have to move back in with my parents like some guys I know. He cleared his throat. Speaking of parents, my mom might be coming down this weekend.

My stomach did a summersault. Liam had been talking about going to Hartford together so that I could meet his mother. I wasn’t sure why, but the thought gave me the jitters and I kept finding excuses to postpone the trip. If his mother was coming down, there’d be no getting out of it this time.

She’s only been to the city once and never got to do any touristy stuff, Liam went on. If she comes down, will you join us for dinner? She’s been asking to meet you, and I think it’s about time. Don’t you?

Yeah, but... My mouth felt suddenly dry. What if she doesn’t like me? 

He laughed. That’s impossible. Look at you, of course she’ll like you. She’ll have no other choice, not with all the nice things I’ve been telling her about you.

Things, like what? I was feeling more nervous by the minute. Now, not only would I have to make a good first impression, I’d have to live up to the picture Liam had painted of me.

Liam never answered because his phone vibrated at that moment. He glanced at the text message and rolled his eyes.

The boss wants me in the office. Guess it’ll kill him to come down for once. I swear, that guy gets lazier every day. By the way, here’s my new number. I lost the old phone and had to get a new one. He pressed a button on his phone and a call from an unknown number lit up on my screen. 

Got it, thanks. As I saved the number to my contacts list, I saw it was almost nine-thirty. I should get back upstairs, call Crawford an Uber and—

A scream cut off my last words and pierced icicles through my insides.  The door to the stairwell flew open and a woman in high heels stumbled out, her eyes popping with shock and terror.

Behind her at the bottom of the staircase Jack Crawford lay in a crumpled heap. His neck was bent at a funny angle and his eyes stared at me fixedly.

Except the eyes weren’t really staring at all. Unblinking and unseeing, they were the eyes of a dead man.

Chapter 3

My hand went to the jade pendant at my neck.

Dear God, not again.

More people were gathering behind me now, their whispers a rustle of dead leaves.

Someone grabbed my hand, making me turn around.

This is just the beginning, Robin whispered, staring past me at Crawford. Something awful is at work here and it’s not done with us yet. Mark my words.

I had no time to ask what she meant. There were running footsteps on the stairway and Alex Sorrento, the restaurant’s owner, appeared. He halted two steps above Crawford’s body and stared at it as all the blood seemed to drain from his face. Then he saw me standing there and his eyes narrowed.

What a coincidence: another body in my bar, and you’re here.

I blinked, speechless. The first body had been Sonny Klein’s, Alex’s late business partner, shot dead at a wedding party that was taking place at the restaurant. Due to an unfortunate turn of events, my father had been the prime suspect in that case, which pushed me to get involved in the search for the real killer. Alex had never forgiven me for briefly suspecting him of the crime and he let me know it every chance he got.

We stared at each other over the prone body. Behind Alex, more people were coming down from the rooftop and craning their necks to see over each other’s shoulders. Out on the street, the sound of the approaching sirens announced the arrival of the police. 

My brother and his partner were among the first ones on the scene. They quickly restored order, directing those on the staircase back upstairs. Once the body was covered over and carried away, they were allowed to descend and follow the police’s directions around the crime scene so as not to interfere with it. 

Will came over to the bar where Liam and I sat waiting. Can you guys shed some light on how this happened?

I don’t know if we’ll be much help, I told him. Crawford was still upstairs when I came down, and I was at the bar with Liam when we heard that woman screaming. That was when we found the body.

I crumpled a napkin in my fist, feeling foolish. A death had occurred right under my nose, and all I could do was shake my head in bewilderment.

It had to be an accident, right? My voice sounded strained with the effort to contain emotion. Crawford was drinking heavily all night, maybe that brought on a heart attack or something.

Will nodded. Could be. But I still need to know where everyone was when it happened. Just stay put for now.

He headed off toward the small group of workshop students who waited tensely around the pool table, passing Alex who strode over to the bar shaking his head darkly.

It’s the same nightmare all over again, he muttered with a baleful glance in my direction. All these police crawling around my restaurant, probably going to call it a crime scene and close us down for days. Like I’ve got no other troubles around here.

Anger boiled inside me and I held my tongue with difficulty. As if I wanted any of this to happen. Crawford taking a tumble down the stairs was just as bad for Kathy’s business as it was for Alex’s.

The warm pressure of Liam’s hand on mine reminded me to stay calm. Lay off her, Alex, he said quietly. None of this is her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong.

No, it’ll be my fault, Alex snarled. My restaurant’s reputation. Luce della Vita, Light of Life, where everyone goes to die. Two deaths in less than two years. People will start being afraid to come in here.

Liam rolled his eyes. You’re spinning, man. Just calm down.

But Alex’s spinning had reached full throttle and he was past calming down. He half-turned on his stool and pointed an accusing finger at me. It’s all you, you know. You’ve got like a curse on you or something. I want you out of here. You don’t come around anymore, understand?

Hey! Liam’s voice sharpened as he straightened.

Alex’s dark eyes threw lightning at him. Hey, nothing. If you want to keep your job, get your girlfriend out of my bar.

Liam and I stared at him open-mouthed. I’d never seen Alex this out of control before, not even when his partner was killed.

His raised voice attracted other people’s attention, including Will who strode over quickly. Woah, what’s going on here, Alex? Why are you yelling at my sister?

Not wanting the scene to escalate even further, I slid down from my barstool. It’s all right, Will. I wanted to go home anyway. It’s late and I’m tired... is it all right if I go or do you still need me here?

No, it’s fine. I was about to tell everyone they could leave, he said, then added in a voice low enough so that only I could hear, They’re all claiming they didn’t see it happen. Hopefully, the autopsy will shed some light.

The autopsy. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to wrap my mind around the present reality. An hour ago, Crawford was slouched at a table, talking to a wine bottle. Now he was on his way to the morgue. It made no sense.

I’ll walk you out, Liam said. He went around the other side of the bar and met me at the door. His expression was unusually ferocious for him. I have a mind to knock Alex’s teeth out, he muttered.

I took his hand in mine. Just leave it alone. He’s not thinking clearly.

His eyes softened and he bent to give me a quick kiss. Wish I could take you home myself, but I gotta stay and help Alex.

No, it’s fine. Just don’t start a fight with him. Can I trust you to keep your temper?

Maybe. For a reward. His eyes twinkled.

Well, if that’s what it takes... I gave him a long kiss, which was broken only when my cab pulled up.

His fingers let go of mine unwillingly and he watched me get in, then bent to the window. Call me if you need anything.

I will.

Behind him, people were filing out of the restaurant. The woman Randall Hyde had been hitting on stormed out and strutted off in a huff.

Hyde staggered after her. Don’t leave, babe. We can still salvage the evening. He grabbed her by the hand from behind, but she wrenched it free.

Shove off and leave me alone!

Looking sullen, Hyde turned on his heels and climbed into the Uber waiting for him at the curb. He didn’t seem overly shaken by Crawford’s death. Or was he too drunk to even realize it happened?

As his cab drove away, I saw another car following it. Heart pounding, I craned my neck and watched until it turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Well, that was just lovely. Liam’s voice brought my attention back to him.

What was?

The lover’s scene we just witnessed. He smiled and smoothed a strand of my hair. Really makes me appreciate how much I lucked out.

My mind was still on Jeff’s car, trying