Fringe Benefits: Coffee & Crime Mystery, #4

FRINGE BENEFITS

A COFFEE & CRIME MYSTERY

Nan Sampson

Contents

Title Page

Publishing Information

Dedication

Fringe Benefits

About The Author

Published by Last Chance Press

Copyright © April 2018 Nan Sampson

First E-Edition: April 2018

First Last Chance Press Edition: April 2018

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

Book formatting by Lia at Free Your Words

To Steve and Rachel, my biggest supporters; to The Hive for keeping me sane and plowing forward; and to all of my fans, who make writing these stories so much fun!

CHAPTER 1

Ellie Gooden, owner of Horizon, Wisconsin’s only coffee shop, The Sacred Caff, stood behind an elegantly decorated folding table and watched in amazement as crowds packed into her friend Laura Lincoln’s book store. It was like a rave. Or a riot. The Gilded Page was packed to the rafters with both locals and out-of-towners, all here for a book signing by Horizon’s literary light, an author Ellie had never even heard of, but who, according to everyone else, was the greatest thing to happen to the romance genre since Nora Roberts.

With a squirming anxiety in her stomach, she watched what she’d thought would be an ample supply of cups, sugar packets, individual creamers and pre-measured portions of her Signature Sacred Caff brew rapidly dwindle. But it wasn’t just her concern over running out of coffee cups that made her chest tight and her breath come fast. She’d moved away from the chaotic and noisy city of Chicago to get away from insane crowds like this. Well, at least that was one of the reasons. The gruesome murder of her parents had also played a part in that decision.

She tried to push away the notion that there was not enough air in the overcrowded room and evened out her expression into what she liked to call her ‘corporate smile’ as she gazed out at the throng. Laura’s shop was one of the larger retail spaces in town, with two levels. Rows and rows of shelves soldiered along the right side of the shop, and a meeting space and the checkout counter were on the left. Upstairs, which was off limits tonight, was a robust collection of anime and a selection of what was called ‘occult’ stuff, including volumes on paganism and Wicca.

A gentle summer breeze blew in through the open front door and out the propped-open fire door in the back of the shop, creating a cooling cross-draft. The breeze was welcome, given the crowds. People were lined up all the way out the door and, according to local postal delivery specialist Harvey Briggs, they were lined up all the way down the block to The Crock Pot. Ellie nodded at Harvey as he stepped up to the table and handed her the empty sugar packet container.

You’re out of sugar again.

Thanks, Harve. She filled it up, winced as he took five packets, tore them open and dumped them into the refill he’d just poured from one of the urns on the table. I’m a little surprised at the crowd. She reached beneath the table for a fresh sleeve of Sacred Caff branded to-go cups from the open box, realizing with a sinking feeling that the sleeve in her hand was the last one.

Harvey Briggs raised his eyebrows high in surprise. "Ellie Gooden! Lila Lee is the best romance writer out there! Well, okay, maybe not quite as big as that Roberts woman, but she’s not called the First Lady of Love for nothin’!

Ellie pressed her lips together to keep from saying something offensive. I didn’t know that, Harvey.

Haven’t you read any of her books?

He couldn’t have been more astounded if she’d said she’d never seen a dog. Sorry, Harvey, romance is just not my genre.

He shoved Lila Lee Merrill’s brand new hard cover at her. Here. I’ve already read this one on my e-reader. I just bought it tonight so’s I could get Lila Lee to sign it. Read it, it’s amazing. He waggled his bushy gray caterpillar eyebrows at her. And kinda racy too.

She really had to work at not rolling her eyes. Keeping a smile on her face, she said, Thanks, Harvey, but I might not get to it for a while. Why don’t you keep it for now and I can ask you for it when I’m finished with the, uh, book I’m currently reading.

Are you sure? It’s no bother. Like I said, I’ve already read it. I generally pre-order her books so I can read them the minute they’re available.

As if the fact that straight-laced, sixty-five-year old Harvey Briggs read smutty romances wasn’t surprising enough, the fact that he had an e-reader and knew how to pre-order titles stunned her. Harvey, you are… always a delightful surprise. Thanks, but I’ll let you know, okay?

Harvey glanced over to the table where the ‘First Lady of Love’, Lila Lee Merrill sat. She currently beamed up at the gentleman in front of her, listening to whatever earnest words of appreciation he murmured as he leaned down to speak to her – and probably take a peek down her décolletage. Dressed in a snug, short-sleeved dress with a key hole neckline that was cut low enough to permit the occasional glimpse of her lacey red brassiere, Lila Lee suggestively licked lips painted as vivid red as her dress.

Ellie watched Harvey and shook her head. The look on Harvey’s face was some mix between adoration and lust. It was jarring, coming from her sixty-something, practical-as-a hammer postman.

A look at Lila Lee didn’t help Ellie understand, either. While not an unattractive woman, it wasn’t like she was some Hollywood hottie. Lila Lee had to be pushing sixty and a little on the zaftig side. While she did have a lovely smile and doe-like brown eyes that went nicely with her chestnut hair, even her rather ample and firm bosom – which from the way the girls defied gravity looked as though she’d had some work done there – didn’t seem to Ellie to warrant the ‘flies to honey’ attraction Lila Lee seemed to possess. And it wasn’t just men, although there were dozens of them standing patiently in line, waiting for their moment with the author. Women were also entering the shop in droves, all gabbing with one another about this book or that, and getting all ooey-gooey over the most recent volume – Clandestine Heart – and the Scotsman in a kilt on the cover, who wore nothing else other than the claymore strapped to his bare back. It was exactly the kind of book Ellie had always avoided, although she considered picking up a copy for her best friend Kate. Kate would probably know who Lila Lee was, and an autographed copy of her latest book might make a great birthday present.

Harvey wandered off, eyes still glued to the author, and Ellie glanced under the table cloth at the box that had contained four sleeves of to-go cups only an hour ago. Marg? She looked up, trying to find her assistant. Spotting her across the shop, chatting up local police chief and Marg’s current beau, Bill Gruetzmacher, she scowled hard enough that Marg must have felt it. The woman squeezed Bill’s arm and hurried back to the table where they’d set up their coffee urns and platters of pastries, weaving her way through the mass of people like a pro. Hi. Sorry. What’s up?

We’re out of cups. Did you bring a second box? If not, one of us is going to have to go back to the shop.

Marg scanned the crowd. I knew this would be a popular event, but I had no idea it would be this big. I can run over, no problem. Do you think one will do? I can get Bill to help me.

Better bring two. There’s still two hours left to the signing and Harvey told me the line is all the way down the block. And Marg. She gave her baker and friend a stern look. No getting lost in a corner and snogging, ‘kay?

Marg grinned at her. Why, we’d never do that!

Ellie bit back a snarky comment. Just go. She made a shooing motion as a handful of townsfolk who had finished with their moment with Lila Lee, formed a line in front of the serving table. Ellie fretted as she watched the last of their cups disappear as people filled them from the big serving urns. And hurry. Please.

Marg chuckled. Yeah, I wouldn’t want this crowd to get all surly on you. You might have to use your new Jujitsu skills.

You’re not going to let that go, are you? That class was totally Charlie’s idea. He wanted me to take some self-defense because he says I keep getting into trouble, and sometimes it’s easier just agreeing with him than to try to talk him out of whatever ridiculous notion he’s got stuck in his head.

Marg laughed. You two are so damn cute. Where is he, anyway?

He’s hiding in the store room, allegedly helping Laura’s father Gene keep Lila Lee in a supply of new books and hand sanitizer. She’s gone through two of those little bottles already.

Yes, our Lila is a bit of a germaphobe. Marg stood there, looking at the seemingly never-ending line of patrons. Laura must be happy. They’re not just buying the new one, look at the line at the register.

Ellie apologized to two patrons for the lack of cups then glared at Marg. Marg? Cups?

Marg started. Oh, right, sorry. Bill and I will be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Want me to bring anything else?

More cream and another couple boxes of wooden stirrers.

Got it.

Ellie watched with a small frown as Marg wove her way through the crowd again, snagging Gruetzmacher by the shirt sleeve on her way out the door. Ellie had just waved off another couple of visitors looking for coffee when she sensed someone at her elbow.

Damn it, Charlie, you scared the heck out of me.

He grinned his signature grin at her and she’d never admit it, but she felt a twinge of something in the pit of her stomach – a good kind of twinge. I try. You’re very hard to sneak up on, you know. All those witchy ‘Spidey-senses’. I have to work at it.

You’re ridiculous.

He slipped an arm around her waist and started to pull her towards him. And you’re beautiful.

She gave him a good, hard swat on the arm. Stop it. We’re in public. Remember the rules. Her relationship with Charlie was still new and she’d never been one to broadcast her involvement with people.

With a chuckle, he let her go. Right, sorry. No PDAs.

Where’s Gene? I thought you were running errands for Ms. Merrill.

"Gene found the last bottle of hand sanitizer and took it to her. He’s been so nervous all night, you’d think he had a crush on the woman."

Gene? No way. He and Jan are one of the happiest couples I know. Besides, I just don’t get what all the hoopla is about regarding Lila Lee. She’s got to be pushing sixty, she’s overweight, and she wears way too much make-up.

Says the woman who wears none. Charlie shrugged. I don’t know. She’s not my type, but she sure does know how to make a guy feel… you know.

Ellie turned to face him. No, I don’t know. Feel what? Did she come on to you?

Robin Elspeth Gooden, are you jealous?

"I am not jealous. But if she did, she should be ashamed. You’re young enough to be her son."

"Haven’t you heard? Lila Lee is pretty age-agnostic. She likes ‘em young and old. In fact, rumor has it she’s had a, uh, friendship with quite a number of local men."

Ellie turned an appraising gaze on Miss Lila Lee Merrill. I… I just don’t see it, Charlie. Why?

He pressed his lips together and she could tell he was trying not to laugh at her. Honey, sometimes it’s nothing you can put your finger on. Let’s just say that from what I gather, she gives as good as she gets.

Ellie didn’t want to know anymore. And just who are you gathering from?

Gene, Harvey, and, um, Bill.

What? Do you mean to tell me all of them…?

That’s not what I said. That’s just who gave me some information.

Ellie frowned at the author, who was accepting a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates from a woman that Ellie vaguely recognized as an occasional patron of The Sacred Caff. She knew the woman’s drink – skinny latte with a shot and two pumps of hazelnut – but not her name. Beside her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a barrel chest who reminded her of John Wayne. He would have looked right at home in a ten-gallon hat and chaps instead of the Farm and Fleet cap and brand-new, dark blue jeans he wore.

Lila Lee beamed up at John Wayne’s girlfriend and even from across the room, Ellie could hear her squeal in delight as she took the flowers and glanced left and right, looking for someone. Dez? Dez! Then she corrected herself as she realized her personal assistant wasn’t there. Oh, silly me. Gene! Gene darling, be a dear and find something to put these in. The author glanced around, searching for Laura’s suddenly-absent father, who was filling in for her personal assistant that night.

Ellie found herself rolling her eyes again. I’ll bet poor Dez called in sick just so he didn’t have to play gopher all night. She’s been running Gene ragged since she got here.

Charlie frowned, jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. Yeah. And he’s been overly anxious to please. I mean, I don’t know Gene that well, he’s more a friend of Per’s than mine, but he’s been real on-edge tonight.

Ellie watched as Lila Lee slathered more hand sanitizer on her hands. Maybe he’s just nervous for Laura. This is her first big event at the shop. It could totally make her month – and you know it’s been a tough year. For all of us shop owners, she thought.

I guess.

There was a stir in the crowd and Bill hustled up. Bill was smiling broadly and there was a trace of lipstick on his chin. Looks like he and Marg had found time for a quick smooch after all. Thank goodness it had been quick. Marg said she’d be back in a little bit – she’s breaking out the emergency supply of cookies, since you’re nearly out of pastries. You want these boxes under the table, Ellie?

Yeah. Charlie, can you start setting out stacks of cups? I need to go into the back room and get two fresh urns.

Sure, but it won’t be artsy.

I don’t care about—

Something crashed. Ellie spun to see Lila Lee lurching out from behind the now overturned table she’d been sitting at. Piles of books thudded to the floor and the crowd was scrambling backward as Lila staggered drunkenly, one hand outstretched, the other clutching at her throat.

What the—

Charlie raced around Ellie, Bill hot on his heels, and made a bee line for Lila Lee, who collapsed to her knees. She was gasping, her eyes wide, making a horrible retching, gagging sound. Ellie grabbed a cup, filled it with water from a pitcher and followed Charlie over.

Charlie knelt next to Lila Lee while Bill radioed for help.

Easy now, Ms. Merrill. Just take it easy. Help is on the way.

Lila grabbed his arm, wheezed out something Ellie couldn’t hear. Her chest heaved with the effort of trying to breathe, her eyes bulged, and she clutched at Charlie’s shirt in desperation.

Everyone, please, Bill was saying, Stand back. Vic, go clear a path to the door for the EMT guys.

The fellow in the Farm and Fleet cap started to herd people to one side, his size alone working in his favor.

Lila Lee let go of Charlie’s shirt, and made one final, stertorous effort to inhale before collapsing to the floor. Ellie saw a flash of bright white light manifest above the body and skitter up towards the ceiling. As it vanished, she felt a chill ripple her scalp. With a curse, Charlie started CPR, but Ellie knew it would do little good. The author’s spirit had, as the saying went, left the building. Lila Lee Merrill, the First Lady of Love, was dead.

It took a good ten minutes to clear the shop of patrons after the ambulance had come and gone. The EMTs had continued to work on Lila Lee as they wheeled her out, but Ellie could tell by the haunted look in Charlie’s eyes that even he knew the woman was beyond saving. Ellie sat with Laura behind the counter while Charlie and Bill shooed both the shocked and sometimes grumbling customers out the door. One man demanded Laura refund the price of the hard cover he’d purchased, since he wasn’t able to get it signed. Ellie wanted to punch the jerk and was stopped only by Laura’s hand on her arm.

You were not seriously considering giving that moron his money back.

Ellie, Laura moaned, You know the customer is always right.

Only to a point. This guy needs a point shoved up his—

She was interrupted by Charlie who shuffled over and, leaning his forearms against the check-out counter, hung his head.

Ellie broke her own rules and stood beside him, rubbing his back.

His voice was barely audible when he said, I tried, Ellie.

She leaned down close. You did everything you could, but she was gone practically before you started. Nothing was going to bring her back.

I know. God, I hate this. It’s the worst part of the job.

Bill approached, having seen the last of the folks out the door of the shop. No, the worst part comes next. Notifying next of kin. He looked at Laura. Do you know who that might be?

I don’t think she had any relatives left, but her assistant, Dez Duquesne, lives in the pool house behind her place. Oh God, this is awful.

Bill raised his bushy gray brows. There’s a pool house behind that sprawling rococo monstrosity?

Even Ellie was surprised. The little town of Horizon Wisconsin was not the kind of place that had palatial homes with pool houses.

At everyone’s skeptical look, Laura shrugged. She had it built about ten years ago. Before you got here, Bill, and way before you guys, she gestured at Ellie and Charlie.

She made that kind of money writing smutty books about sword-wielding boy toys?

Laura snorted. Ellie, no matter what you think, there’s big money in romance. It’s not smut, it’s fun. Not everything has to be doom and gloom for it to be entertaining.

Ellie held up her hands in surrender. Sorry. I really wasn’t casting aspersions.

Bill interrupted. Laura, you want me to lock the front door?

Laura gave Gruetzmacher a weak smile. Thanks, Bill, but I’ll do that before I leave. I need to empty the drawer, total up today’s receipts, get the store back in order. I have to open no time tomorrow morning no matter what, and after this, I’m pretty sure I won’t want to get up any earlier than I have to. She rubbed eyes still damp from tears. Especially not after the bottle of wine I plan on drinking when I get home.

Ellie went into efficient mode, looking around for Laura’s father. Where’d Gene go? He and Charlie can help with the table and heavy stuff, while you close out the register. I’ll straighten up the shop and put away the unsold units. We’ll be done in no time.

Oh, Ellie, I couldn’t. You’ve already done so much.

Nonsense. She glanced over at Charlie, hoping he was up to what she’d just volunteered him for. Right Charlie?

His eyes were still shadowed, but he forced a smile several watts lower than his normal patented grin. Of course.

They looked around, just as Lila Lee had done just a short time ago, but Gene Lincoln was nowhere to be seen. Charlie gave Ellie a questioning look. He must be in the back, I’ll just go grab him.

As Charlie slipped around the back of the counter and through the door that led to a small store room and Laura’s office, Bill leaned on the counter, pulled out his cell phone. Laura, do you have this assistant fellow’s phone number? Wanna make sure he’s home before I drive all the way out there.

Sure. She pulled out her own cell. Although I practically have it memorized, I had to call it enough setting all this up. Lila couldn’t be bothered to deal directly with me. She scrolled through her contacts. Here. Desmond Duquesne." She rattled off the phone number.

Gathering up an armful of Lila Lee’s latest novel from the table where the woman had been sitting, Ellie packed them up into one of the empty boxes hidden behind the skirt. If she could quickly clear the table, then the guys could get the table folded and stored and she could send Charlie off with Bill to talk to Dez. Goddess help him, Dez was in for a shock. Hearing footsteps, she stuffed the last few remaining books into the top of the over full box – they’d sort them out later – and glanced up. Let me just get the table cloth folded and the skirt stripped off and then you guys— She looked around Charlie. Where’s Gene?

His lips quirked down in a rare expression of irritation. His tone was abrupt. Beats the hell out of me. He pushed past her brusquely and Ellie tried to remember his cross attitude had nothing to do with her. Give me that box, I’ll take it back into the store room. You deal with the table cloth and then I’ll man-handle the table.

Ellie stood back as he hefted the heavy box. So, he wasn’t in the back?

Nope.

Ellie stood with her hands on her hips, frowning, as Charlie disappeared into the back then returned. But where did he go? Surely, he wouldn’t leave Laura to deal with this nightmare. I know my dad wouldn’t have, and Gene’s a nice guy.

He shrugged then gestured at the table. We gonna do this?

It was unlike him to be short-tempered, but she completely understood. Trying to be as neat as she could, she stripped the table and attempted to fold the beige linens while Charlie unlocked the tables legs and upended it to carry into the back.

Stop right there. Nobody move anything else. Bill hurried over, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Laura, you and Ellie need to vacate the premises. Meanwhile, Charlie and I have to take a drive out to Lila’s place.

Charlie’s head snapped up. We do?

Hospital just called. Lila Lee apparently had some sort of allergic reaction, cause of death was likely anaphylaxis.

So?

So, the only thing Lila Lee was allergic to, according to her assistant, was penicillin.

Obeying the order from Bill, accompanied as it had been by a glare, Ellie set the linens she’d been folding on the floor, as Charlie said, I still don’t get why you need me to come out there with you.

You’re more rattled than I thought, McCallum. If she’d been allergic to peanuts, or shellfish, or what have you, something you commonly encounter in food, then I’d talk to this Dez guy on my own. But you don’t just accidentally ingest penicillin. Unless this was some grandstand way to commit suicide, in front of a room full of her fans, then there is a possibility that Lila Lee was given the penicillin without her knowing it. And that, my new Homicide Detective, makes this a possible murder.

CHAPTER 2

It was almost midnight when Ellie trudged through her front door. Erik the Red, her large, mixed breed dog, raced around her in circles, barking excitedly. Mostly it was a happy-to-see-you noise, but there was a little of ‘you’ve been gone a really long time’ too. She let him out the back door and rested her head against the cool glass panes of the kitchen door as she watched him do his business then trot along the perimeter of his domain, nose to the ground, making sure no errant squirrel or raccoon had dared breach his carefully administered pee barrier.

Charlie still wasn’t home, and she’d been hoping to find his car in the drive and his head on his pillow by the time she’d tucked Laura into bed (after only half a bottle of wine) and headed home. Laura’s father had finally responded to Laura’s texts shortly before Ellie left – he’d apparently felt ill and had left before Lila Lee’s collapse.

She straightened up the kitchen, hoping Charlie would roll in while she was doing so, but there was only so many times she could wipe down the counter. It was likely he was still helping Bill, who’d gone into full cop mode after calling The Wisconsin State Mobile Crime Scene Response Unit. The scene had been secured and Ellie hadn’t even been able to remove any of her equipment or supplies. It would all need to be ‘bagged and tagged’, Bill told her, and she’d been promised a receipt for it all. Fortunately, none of it was stuff she needed for day to day running of the shop, but it was still going to be a pain.

She checked her phone, found a text that hadn’t been there before she’d gotten in the car. STOPPED OFF FOR A BEER WITH BILL. HOME SOON. The text was followed by two hearts and she couldn’t help grinning. He was such a sap.

Erik came bounding up to the door and then sat on the mat just inside to have his damp paws wiped off before loping over to the kitchen cabinet that held his treats.

You know, just because I was out late doesn’t necessarily mean you deserve a treat.

He gave her a look that said, ‘well, you had wine, so I deserve a dried salmon strip’.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled one out of the resealable bag, made him sit and shake before allowing him to snuffle the treat from her hand. Fine. Just don’t blame me when you get fat.

With a snort, he trotted off with the treat, heading up the stairs like a herd of elephants. By the time she got up the