A MAGNOLIA BAY MYSTERY:

A CAFE CONFESSION

(A Magnolia Bay Cozy Mystery—Book Three)

FIONA GRACE

Fiona Grace

Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising seven books; of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three books; of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the INN AT DUNE ISLAND ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the INN BY THE SEA ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the MAID AND THE MANSION COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the ALICE BLOOM COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the MAGNOLIA BAY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the TIMBERLAKE TITANS HOCKEY ROMANCE series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the ASHVILLE ACES HOCKEY ROMANCE series, comprising five books (and counting).

Fiona would love to hear from you, so please visit www.fionagraceauthor.com to receive free ebooks, hear the latest news, and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Fiona Grace. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BOOKS BY FIONA GRACE

ASHVILLE ACES HOCKEY ROMANCE

BREAKAWAY BLISS (Book #1)

ICY INTIMACY (Book #2)

FACEOFF FLING (Book #3)

RINK RENDEZVOUS (Book #4)

HOCKEY HEARTTHROB (Book #5)

TIMBERLAKE TITANS HOCKEY ROMANCE

RINKSIDE ROMANCE (Book #1)

FLIRTY FACEOFF (Book #2)

MELTING THE ICE (Book #3)

THE PUCK STOPS HERE (Book #4)

GLOVES DROP, LOVE BLOOMS (Book #5)

MAGNOLIA BAY COZY MYSTERY

THE TAINTED TAFFY (Book #1)

A MASKED MURDER (Book #2)

A CAFE CONFESSION (Book #3)

THE FROZEN FIND (Book #4)

A CURIOUS CURSE (Book #5)

TIMBERLAKE TITANS HOCKEY ROMANCE

RINKSIDE ROMANCE (Book #1)

FLIRTY FACEOFF (Book #2)

MELTING THE ICE (Book #3)

THE PUCK STOPS HERE (Book #4)

GLOVES DROP, LOVE BLOOMS (Book #5)

ALICE BLOOM COZY MYSTERY

MURDER IN THE MARIGOLDS (Book #1)

RUIN IN THE ROSES (Book #2)

DECEIT IN THE DAFFODILS (Book #3)

SCANDAL IN THE SAFFRON (Book #4)

CATASTROPHE IN THE CARNATIONS (Book #5)

THE MAID AND THE MANSION COZY MYSTERY

A MYSTERIOUS MURDER (Book #1)

A SCANDALOUS DEATH (Book #2)

A MISSING GUEST (Book #3)

AN UNSOLVABLE CRIME (Book #4)

AN IMPOSSIBLE HEIST (Book #5)

INN BY THE SEA ROMANTIC COMEDY

A NEW LOVE (Book #1)

A NEW CHANCE (Book #2)

A NEW HOME (Book #3)

A NEW LIFE (Book #4)

A NEW ME (Book #5)

THE INN AT DUNE ISLAND ROMANTIC COMEDY

A CHANCE LOVE (Book #1)

A CHANCE FALL (Book #2)

A CHANCE ROMANCE (Book #3)

A CHANCE CHRISTMAS (Book #4)

A CHANCE ENGAGEMENT (Book #5)

A CHANCE DREAM (Book #6)

A CHANCE WEDDING (Book #7)

ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY

ALWAYS, WITH YOU (Book #1)

ALWAYS, FOREVER (Book #2)

ALWAYS, PLUS ONE (Book #3)

ALWAYS, TOGETHER (Book #4)

ALWAYS, LIKE THIS (Book #5)

ALWAYS, FATED (Book #6)

ALWAYS, FOR LOVE (Book #7)

ALWAYS, JUST US (Book #8)

ALWAYS, IN LOVE (Book #9)

ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY

MURDER AT THE HEDGEROW (Book #1)

A DALLOP OF DEATH (Book #2)

CALAMITY AT THE BALL (Book #3)

A SPEAKEASY DEMISE (Book #4)

A FLAPPER FATALITY (Book #5)

BUMPED BY A DAME (Book #6)

A DOLL’S DEBACLE (Book #7)

A FELLA’S RUIN (Book #8)

A GAL’S OFFING (Book #9)

LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY

MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book#1)

DEATH AND A DOG (Book #2)

CRIME IN THE CAFE (Book #3)

VEXED ON A VISIT (Book #4)

KILLED WITH A KISS (Book #5)

PERISHED BY A PAINTING (Book #6)

SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7)

FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8)

CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9)

TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY

AGED FOR MURDER (Book #1)

AGED FOR DEATH (Book #2)

AGED FOR MAYHEM (Book #3)

AGED FOR SEDUCTION (Book #4)

AGED FOR VENGEANCE (Book #5)

AGED FOR ACRIMONY (Book #6)

AGED FOR MALICE (Book #7)

DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER (Book #1)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME (Book #2)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE (Book #1)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A MURDEROUS MACARON (Book #2)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A PERILOUS CAKE POP (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A DEADLY DANISH (Book #4)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A TREACHEROUS TART (Book #5)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A CALAMITOUS COOKIE (Book #6)

CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY

A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER (Book #1)

A VILLA IN SICILY: FIGS AND A CADAVER (Book #2)

A VILLA IN SICILY: VINO AND DEATH (Book #3)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CAPERS AND CALAMITY (Book #4)

A VILLA IN SICILY: ORANGE GROVES AND VENGEANCE (Book #5)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY (Book #6)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

“I’m worried about this weekend, Autumn. It feels like such a big step to take. What if something happens here? I mean, last week, the stove stopped working because a cable just – just disintegrated. It was an emergency. What if it breaks again, and I’m not here to help you?”

Autumn Ray could see the anxiety in the olive skinned face of Jasmine Carter, her invaluable chef and assistant at Harbor View bed and breakfast.

“Everything will be fine. The stove’s working perfectly now, the refrigerator is full, we’ve got plenty of croissant dough, three loaves of bread, and two trays of eggs,” Autumn reassured her, even though she also felt a nervous twinge that with her right hand woman gone, things would instantly fall apart.

It was only for two days, she reminded herself, trying not to glance anxiously at the fireplace in the living room of the old stone house. It had been smokier than usual the last week or so. She didn’t think there was a blockage. Autumn twined a lock of strawberry blond hair around her finger as she tried to figure out what the house, which had its own mischievous personality, might be planning next.

“We have four rooms occupied, is that correct?” Jasmine glanced down at the list on the front desk. Autumn always meant to try to do things online, but inevitably, online was an afterthought and bookings ended up getting scribbled down in the big, hardcover ledger first.

“Four, that’s right, and it’s really good. Woodpecker View, Lilac Grove, Cedar Retreat, and Sailor’s Nest. Three couples, and one guest on her own. This time last year, we only had two rooms filled.”

Throughout the summer, Autumn’s bed and breakfast had been fully occupied, with all seven rooms booked. However, as winter arrived, the numbers of visitors to Magnolia Bay dwindled sharply. Given its northern location in Lake Michigan, the island’s winters were cold – and with no cars allowed, walking and cycling in ten to twenty degree weather was not something many people wanted to do on their vacation.

“They’re all staying for the coffee festival. That’s the reason our guests are here.”

Now in its second year, thanks to a wildly popular launch last year, the coffee festival was bringing a surge of activity to the island at a traditionally quiet time.

“I’m so glad the town is doing it again and that I'm taking part. Glad, but nervous,” Jasmine admitted.

“You don’t need to be nervous. Your food kiosk is going to be a huge success.”

Autumn glanced down at her golden retriever cross, Max, who was lying on the rug, listening to the conversation. Max thumped his tail as if in agreement that Jasmine was the best cook ever.

The Magnolia Bay town council, who were organizing the event, had asked if locals could volunteer to create some pop-up stalls at the festival, which was going to be held in the island’s large town hall, with other coffee-based highlights dotted around the island in a specially created Coffee Route for guests to explore.

Autumn had encouraged Jasmine to suggest a kiosk selling baked goods and confectionery. Jasmine was so talented at baking and cooking, and she had aspirations of becoming a Michelin-starred chef one day. Autumn thought this would be a good first step. Her application had been welcomed with open arms, and Jasmine would be taking the rest of Friday off to start preparing the delicious muffins, cupcakes, buns and pies that she’d be selling over the weekend.

“I hope the festival’s as busy this year,” Jasmine said.

“It will be busier. Coffee? Who doesn’t love coffee?” Autumn reached for her own cup, slurping down the still-warm brew. Coffee was a life saver all year round, but in cold weather? She simply couldn’t imagine surviving without at least three cups a day. “I’m keen to taste a few new brands and blends. I might even try the blind tasting competition. They’re going to have seven or eight different types of beans, and you have to guess which one is which.”

"Last year, I only got one wrong," Jasmine said, which Autumn didn't find surprising, because her palate was superb. "But this year, I obviously won't compete because of having a stall."

“Just as well. You can give everyone else a chance at winning," she joked. "You'll be too busy selling everything you make to do it anyway."

“Oh, I do hope people buy from me. You’re so kind to give me the time off,” Jasmine said, nervousness ringing in her voice.

“Imagine if you could take the next step, and have a stall at the harbor, on weekends in the summer?” Autumn encouraged her. “You could expand into some street food dishes. This could be the start of your own career in food.”

Gulping, Jasmine nodded. “Let’s take it one step at a time and just get through the festival?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Autumn agreed.

“You’ll come and visit the kiosk?” Jasmine clasped her hands together.

“I will. I’m going to go down the road as soon as I’ve finished up here and ask Ben if he'd like to come along. I’ve bought him a season ticket as a gift.” Autumn felt her cheeks flush as she thought of the island’s handsome veterinarian, Dr. Ben Hartley. They were dating, sort of, although it was still low-key. Ben hadn't told anyone yet. Autumn's stomach clenched as she thought about that. Was she reading too much into it? What if Ben thought this was nothing more than a mild flirtation rather than the relationship she hoped it would be?

It was one of the worries that sometimes gripped her when she woke up late at night, wondering about what the future would hold. Together with needing to replace Harbor View’s roof, and whether she should redecorate the Woodpecker Room, and how many renovations she’d have the time and money to do this winter, before the spring rush of guests arrived.

“I’ll be going then, if you’re sure you’re okay?” Jasmine asked.

“Go! Go! Go! You need to make your dough!”

That sounded like the start of a song, Autumn thought in amusement. There was a rhythm to the words that matched Jasmine’s footsteps as she hurried out. It felt as if a trail of accumulated anxiety was still lingering in the air. Autumn grinned to herself as she imagined fanning it away. Jasmine had so much self-doubt about her talent. Hopefully, this small project would help her realize that she could achieve her dreams.

Deciding that it was chilly in the lobby, Autumn hurried across the carpeted living room to light the fire.

As she did, the worst happened.

Instead of going obediently up the chimney, the smoke coiled down again, billowing into the living room, so that Autumn choked and spluttered, rushing to open a window. The shrill noise of the smoke alarm filled the air.

“Okay, okay, there’s no fire. Calm down, calm down.”

She shoved the window wide. Now, icy air flooded in, but at least some of the smoke was filtering out.

As she rushed to press the silence button and stop the ear-splitting noise, Autumn knew there was definitely a blockage. The house had waited until the worst possible moment to cunningly unveil its latest problem.

With a living room full of smoke, her eyes streaming, and the threat of the alarm reactivating, her visit to the vet would have to be postponed.

Instead, she’d be making an emergency call to the one person on the island that she didn’t want to speak to, if she could avoid doing so.

CHAPTER TWO

“Ethan? It’s Autumn.” Standing in the now cold and drafty living room, Autumn was waving her jacket in the direction of the window, trying to chase out the smoke.

“What’s up? You sound as if you have laryngitis.” Ethan Stone’s deep voice held a note of concern for her that she hadn’t heard there for a long time.

“I don’t have laryngitis. I’m suffering from smoke inhalation,” Autumn croaked, clearing her throat. “There’s something wrong with the chimney.”

“Of course,” Ethan agreed. “There would be, seeing I’m on the other side of the island. I guess it’s urgent?” A resigned tone to his voice told Autumn that hers wasn’t the only urgent job he was dealing with right now.

“It is sort of urgent,” she admitted. “I had to put the fire out, and the living room’s still filled with smoke, and getting colder by the minute.”

There was a brisk, wintry wind blowing now. It was coming straight through the open window and prickling Autumn’s skin into goose bumps, even under her long sleeved top. Her guests were all out for the day already, thank goodness. But when they came back, they’d appreciate a warm living room and a crackling fire whose smoke was going where it was supposed to.

“Okay. I need to get a long ladder. They’ll loan me one from the harbor,” Ethan said. “I’ll try and come to you on the way to my next job. Fixing a chimney’s gotta be quick, right?”

Autumn’s doubtful silence made Ethan chuckle. Nothing was ever guaranteed with Harbor View.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll look out for you.”

In the meantime, she rushed upstairs to do a basic tidy of the guests’ rooms, make their beds, refill their in-room tea and coffee supplies, and put a few more home baked cookies into their jars. There was never, ever time to be idle in a bed and breakfast, that was for sure.

And at least she was keeping her parents’ legacy alive.

When Autumn’s parents had been killed in a car crash a few years ago, together with her younger brother Luke, it had left her and her sister Willow alone in the world. At that stage, Harbor View had been the family’s vacation home. Autumn had inherited the house, and Willow had inherited her parents’ savings.

Autumn had thought of selling up – for a short while, anyway. Then she’d remembered how much delight her mother had taken in maintaining the old home, one of the first to be built on the island, and how special their family vacations had been. The island was full of memories, and so was Harbor View itself. So she’d decided to take the plunge and turn it into a hospitality business.

So far, so good – apart from the odd misbehaving chimney.

Hearing the horse hooves from down the road, and guessing this would be Ethan, arriving on a buggy, she hurried downstairs again.

Sure enough, her strong-jawed ex, with his twinkling eyes, and golden brown hair, was at the door, a ladder over his shoulder and his toolbox in his hand.

With an excited bark, Max ran over to greet his old friend, pushing his nose into Ethan’s hand. Ethan, who loved Max, bent down and scratched him on his chest in just the place where he enjoyed it.

“Thanks for getting here so fast,” Autumn said.

By mutual consent, they didn’t hug or kiss or anything that could possibly complicate the fragile friendship they’d now achieved after a very stormy relationship. They’d been each other’s Mr. and Ms. Wrong, that was for sure, and the sparks could still fly at a careless word.

Autumn tried to be very careful what she said. She preferred a quiet and peaceful life.

“Okay, okay, let’s take a look at this,” Ethan muttered to himself, striding across the living room, clearing his throat as he approached the still-smoldering fireplace.

He stuck his phone in with a flashlight, shining up into the chimney shaft, and took a photo. Then, he took the phone out and studied the photo.

“No blockage down here,” he said. “Must be up on the roof.”

“What if it’s a bird’s nest?” Autumn said. “Will you be careful removing it?”

Ethan sighed impatiently, as if he didn’t like Autumn telling him what to do. “This time of the year, if it’s a nest, it’ll be abandoned. Could be an old nest, that caught a buildup of leaves from the fall. I’ll go up the ladder and take a look.”

He headed outside. Supportively, Autumn grabbed her coat, shrugged it on, and headed out. The least she could do was stand out there with him.

“Shall I hold the ladder?” she asked, as he opened it up to its full length.

“You can do.” He didn’t seem as grateful for her company as she’d expected. That didn’t matter, though, Autumn decided. People should help because it was the right thing to do and not because they expected a thank you.

“So,” Ethan said as he climbed up the ladder, with Autumn gripping the base. “So, tell me, you seeing anyone else right now?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Autumn stared up at him as the rungs creaked rhythmically. Not that there was much to see, apart from his admittedly firm backside, clad in a pair of faded jeans.

“I mean, are you dating anyone else?”

“Why do you ask?” Frowning, she stared up.

“Just wondering,” he called back.

“Why would it matter to you?”

“I’m just making conversation. Are you moving the ladder?” he asked in an outraged voice. “It feels like you’re shaking it.”

“No!” Autumn heard equal ire in her own voice as she replied. “Why would I do something like that? I’d never risk your safety. It must have been the wind.”

“Hmmm,” he said darkly.

“You seriously think I would rattle a ladder when you were climbing up it to fix my chimney?”

“Depends what question I was asking at the time.” The ladder clanked and shifted as he took one foot off it, placing it on the roof.

Autumn swallowed down her rising annoyance. It wouldn’t have mattered, except that this was a sensitive topic for her at the moment. She didn’t know where she stood with Ben. Was she his girlfriend? Or was the attractive veterinarian, Dr. Hartley, playing the field? With an island full of animal lovers lining up for his services – some of whom had newly discovered their passion for animal ownership after he’d moved to the island – she felt unsure about the dates they’d been on. Maybe he’d thought of them more as outings than dates.

And the kisses they’d shared – they had been passionate, enough to make her weak at the knees, but did that necessarily mean commitment?

“You can ask me any questions you like,” she said to Ethan.

“I just did, and you got mad and didn’t reply,” he retorted.

Autumn heaved a sigh. Her ex brought out the worst side of her. Since the ladder was clearly stable, there was no point in her holding it anymore. All she was doing was getting wrongly accused of shaking it.

She’d never shake a ladder when Ethan was in a precarious position atop it. Yes, she might be tempted to, but she wouldn’t actually ever do it.

Turning, she headed inside, just in time to answer the ringing landline. If she hadn’t gotten to it in time, it would have forwarded to her cell phone, but even so, grabbing up the call made her feel as if it had been a good decision to come back in.

“Harbor View, good morning,” she said.

“Ah, good morning. It’s late notice, I know, but we heard about the coffee festival on the island, and was wondering if you might have a room available for two nights, starting tonight?”

“We have an upstairs double room available, with a bathtub and shower, the Cedar Retreat,” Autumn said, thrilled that she was getting more business at this time of year. “I can book it for you. The price includes breakfast, and the room has a beautiful, panoramic view over the forest.”

“Sounds excellent. Please reserve it.”

Just like that, another room occupied? And no Jasmine. Autumn hoped that she’d manage on her own. Having taken down this guest’s details, and sent him through the information he needed, she rushed upstairs to get the room ready.

Luckily, it was in a neat state, with fresh bedding on the bed. All she had to do was plump he pillows, give it a quick dusting, and rush down again to the kitchen for cookies and a vase of flowers. Then, it was all ready for the guest, who’d be arriving at four p.m., he’d said.

Thanks to the coffee festival, she thought. This late fall surge of business was very welcome. At least her worries about the roof would be a thing of the past if she could afford to get it fixed up this winter.

She rushed down again, hearing the clank of the ladder outside, which meant Ethan must be folding it up again. What had he found?

Hurrying out, she saw him approach, holding a trash bag, as well as his invoice book.

“Old bird’s nest, with leaves stuck in it, and I think it got damp and jammed in the chimney when we had that rain shower yesterday,” he said. “I’ve fixed it up and replaced the chimney guard. It was loose, which allowed all this to happen.”

He spoke as cheerfully as if they hadn’t just had a near argument out there in the chilly morning, so Autumn did her best to reply in a similar tone.

“That’s great. Thanks,” she said.

“There’s your bill.” He leaned forward as he passed the handwritten invoice to her, speaking in a low voice. “And, Autumn, I’m only asking you if you’re dating anyone because I don’t want your heart broken.”

“There’s no likelihood of that,” she protested, but he shook his head.

“I know you’ve been out and about with that new vet, Dr. Hartley. I’ve seen you at restaurants with him. And just so you know, I saw him out last night, having drinks in the harbor bar with some other woman I don’t know. Some blonde. So – be careful.”

Having delivered that blow, he turned and shouldered his ladder, heading for the road.

CHAPTER THREE

After hearing that, Autumn’s thoughts were in a turmoil. This had made her totally unsure about everything that had happened between her and Ben so far

Had Ethan been telling the truth? She thought he had. He wouldn’t have lied about something like that. Ethan might have his faults – and she could count them – but lying wasn’t one of them. She’d never known him to do more than tell a little white lie once in a while that her hair looked good when she knew it didn't.

Being Ethan, he was also quite capable of bluntly telling her when her hair looked like the bird’s nest that he’d pulled out of her chimney.

But Ben, out with another woman? That was deeply worrying, and she had no idea what to do now. She couldn’t talk to Ben about it right now. She’d missed her window of opportunity, and he was in his rooms, consulting patients. Much as she’d like her dog, Max, to have had an imaginary ailment right now, the truth was that Max had never been healthier.

If she couldn’t ask Ben what was going on, she could at least discuss it with someone sympathetic.

She lit the fire, watching as the smoke disappeared up the chimney like it should, but she wasn’t taking the pleasure in the smoke-free blaze that she had expected to. Not after Ethan had cast such dire doubts into her mind.

After peering thoughtfully into the cupboards and refrigerator, Autumn decided that they needed more sugar and butter. That was an excuse, of course, for heading out where she really wanted to go.

“C’mon, Max. Time for your walk.”

Delighted that he was going on his morning walk earlier than usual, Max came trotting through from his bed in the kitchen, ready for her to attach his leash. Although the wind was strong, it wasn’t raining. Autumn personally thought that if it got any colder, they’d get the first snowfall of the season soon.

She wrapped a scarf around her neck, put on her gloves, and considered putting a jacket on Max for the walk. Then, she decided it wasn’t cold enough for him. Her dog loved the colder weather and struggled more with the heat.

She headed out, wondering if she’d get a chance to look into the veterinary clinic, where a buggy was even now pulling up. Ben’s season ticket was in her purse, but now, she was unsure if he wanted to go with her. The ticket was his anyway. Maybe she could detour into the clinic and quietly leave it at reception for him. However, she changed her mind about going in when she heard her name being called in piercing tones.

“Ah, Autumn!”

Her heart sank when she saw who was climbing out of the buggy, her hair well coiffed, dressed in a smart white coat and a fur-lined hat. A walking stick in one hand, and her cat’s basket in the other, it was Magnolia Bay’s grand dame, Mrs. Hayman.

Bringing her cat Ziggy for another checkup just to spend more time with Ben? It was just as well the cat enjoyed his outings. Autumn felt a mix of frustration and amusement as she nodded politely.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hayman.”

Giving a quick greeting to the buggy driver, Francis, Autumn walked over to stroke the necks of her two favorite horses, Harvey and Higgins, with their chestnut coats, and flaxen manes and tails.

“Poor Ziggy strained a paw while jumping down from his cat tree. Dr. Hartley has been giving him physiotherapy to help heal it faster. He’s such a skilled vet,” Mrs. Hayman smiled as Autumn moved away from the horses, allowing them to trot away to their next stop.

“We’re lucky to have Dr. Hartley at this practice,” Autumn agreed, suspicious of where this conversation was heading. Mrs. Hayman was not usually nice or chatty to her.

“Of course, I can’t wait to find out more about the young lady he was with yesterday evening.” Mrs. Hayman lowered her voice conspiratorially as Autumn approached. “It’s the talk of the island. I believe they’ve known each other a long time. Isn’t it wonderful how love always finds a way?”

Autumn gritted her teeth. These words felt like daggers, slashing through her sense of comfort and making her feel vulnerable and unsure.

“I am sure you’ll have a great chat with Dr. Hartley,” she said, managing not to let Mrs. Hayman see how upsetting her words were. Being nice to people came naturally to her – apart from Ethan, who definitely managed to find her Achilles heel, but right now, her voice was quivering with the strain.

“You sound a little hoarse,” Mrs. Hayman observed. “Have you been crying?” She actually sounded eager at the thought, as if Autumn’s tears would be the next phase of the gossip following the vet’s new lady friend.

“I had a blocked chimney earlier, and the living room was smoked up. It’s just been fixed,” Autumn explained.

“Ah.” Mrs. Hayman’s voice carried some doubt, as if she wasn’t really sure about the story and thought Autumn might have made it up to save face.

With the morning deteriorating fast, Autumn walked on before Mrs. Hayman could ask her any more disturbing questions.

She left Max outside the grocery store while she went in to buy butter and sugar. A lot of butter and sugar. Tomorrow morning, she’d have to do all the baking at the bed and breakfast, since Jasmine would be busy with her kiosk at the coffee festival.

Then, she hurried out of the grocery store and went further down the road to the place where she hoped she'd find comfort after this upsetting morning. Hopefully, also some wise advice.

Ahead was the shop sign ‘Odds & Ends’ – the quirky name for the store her sister Willow ran. And behind the counter was her dark haired sister who’d gotten the elegant, mysterious looks in the family from their father.

Willow was busy setting out some oil paintings of the island on a shelf, decoratively framed, next to some Magnolia Bay dish towels. The shop was filled with interesting and unusual items. Glass paperweights, painted plates, decorative teaspoons, and hand-dyed scarves. A wide selection of coffee cups and plunger machines was on display in the front of the store ready for the coffee festival, together with several bags of beans and ground coffee.

Willow had also introduced a selection of interesting and colorful cat and dog toys – those were a clever addition given the massive surge of interest in pets on the island.

Autumn’s stomach twisted again as she thought about that.

“Hey, Willow.” Seeing the shop was empty right now, she hurried in with her dog. “Can I bring Max in for a few minutes? It’s cold out.”

“Sure.” Willow replied.

Immediately, Autumn could tell from her sister’s tone of voice that something was not quite right in her world.

“What’s up?” she said. Willow’s perfect oval face was more solemn than usual, too.

“I was going to ask you that,” Willow replied. “I can see you’re upset. I could see as soon as you walked in.”

“I am, but you go first,”

Willow shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Just a customer who’s been messing me around.”

“But that’s unacceptable!” Willow’s shop was her life. How could anyone dare to do such a thing? “Messing you around how?”

“He’s changed his mind after I’ve committed to the order, leaving me with stock I’ve bought but he won’t take. And let’s not even talk about payment. I feel like I’ve bent over backward these past few days to try to get everything perfect, but that’ll never happen.”

Autumn stared at her sister quizzically. “Are you being too nice to him? Because it seems this effort is all one-sided."

Willow’s passion for her shop meant that she didn’t just bend over backward for her customers, but ended up doing back flips and somersaults to please them. It didn’t usually stress her out this way, though.

“Perhaps I am being a bit too nice,” Willow admitted. “Nicer than he deserves. It’s difficult to stand up for myself, though, when he’s making me feel as if I’m the one at fault.”

"Boundaries," Autumn told her sister. "You need to set them and not let yourself be trampled over. Good service is all very well, but some people don't appreciate it, and you're never going to be able to please them."

“You’re right,” Willow said, making a face and letting out a deep sigh.

“You have how many happy customers in your shop? Almost everyone, that’s who. So don’t let one person start making you feel that you’re doing something wrong. And being difficult about money is unacceptable. I guarantee you he’s not letting his customers treat him the same way.”

It was so rare to see Willow so upset. This customer must be very difficult to have gotten her into this mindset. Autumn wished she could give him a piece of her mind.

“You’ve helped me a lot,” Willow said. Now, the fire that Autumn was used to seeing, was back in her eyes again. “I’m not going to let myself be trampled, and I am going to make sure that he knows how unreasonable he’s being. All I needed was some backup and support and a reminder that most of my customers are happy." She nodded thoughtfully, as if confirming this truth to herself. "But now, tell me about you. What is the matter? Because you look like you've got something serious on your mind."

“It’s probably nothing, but it feels like everything,” Autumn said, hitching herself onto the stool at the counter and telling Max to sit. One wag of his tail in here could cost her sister a fortune in stock.

“Is it to do with the coffee festival? They haven’t roped you into another committee, have they?” Willow asked in concern. “You don’t have time for that, with Jasmine at the pop-up kiosk.”

“It’s not that,” Autumn said. After a quick look around the shop to make sure nobody was out of sight behind one of the shelves, she dropped her voice. “It’s Ben.”

“What about him?” Willow’s eyes flew wide in concern.

“I feel unsure about what’s happening between us. He was seen out in town last night with a blonde. I’ve had two people so far tell me. Ethan, and Mrs. Hayman.”

“Oh, no!” Willow clasped her hands together, leaning on the counter. “Those are not the two I would have wanted to tell me that kind of news. But are you sure it means anything? Maybe she was just – just his insurance adviser, or a sales rep?”

“I’d like to think so. But dinner?” Autumn shook her head. “He hasn’t told anyone that we’re officially dating, and that makes me worried I’ve jumped the gun.”

“Well, have you asked him who she was?”

That was, of course, the sensible solution. Autumn found herself feeling reluctant to do it though. What if it made the bad news official?

“I haven’t had a chance. It’s not something I can call him about. I’d rather speak face to face. I was on my way out to invite him to the coffee festival when the chimney blocked up. The house filled with smoke and I had to make an emergency call.”

“To Ethan.” Willow nodded, as if in understanding of how things had played out.

“Exactly. I was going to take Ben a season ticket to the festival as a gift. I’ve still got it in my purse. I’ll drop it off at the vet’s reception on my way back. It’s for him, no matter what happens between us, or doesn’t.”

“Well, my advice would be to ask him about that blonde. I mean, you two have been close, haven't you? He doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd play the field after you've – you've kissed and been on a few intimate dinners together?”

Autumn’s cheeks flushed. “I hope he isn’t, but you know, sometimes you really can’t tell with people. I need to discuss it with him, but it still feels like a hurdle, and I’m worried about nasty surprises.”

“That’s reasonable, I guess.”

“I mean, I’ve seen supposedly innocent people here turn out to be killers.” Autumn cast her mind back to the horrific series of events that had shaken the island in the summer and early fall.

“That’s also, sadly true,” Willow acknowledged. “But the worst thing you can do is worry. Remember, Mom always used to say, worrying is like toxic chewing gum for the mind.”

“She said that?” Autumn asked. What a wise saying. She didn’t remember it, but it was certainly appropriate.

“Yes, that’s what she said to me more than once. Maybe I was more of a worrier than you.”

“Toxic chewing gum sounds horrible.” Autumn found herself smiling reluctantly at the thought. The words of wisdom from their mother were some of the treasured memories she had.

“Exactly. Don’t waste your energy chomping on that. And I’m sure there’s a reason for Ben’s actions. He hasn't told anyone, but so what? Maybe he's the kind of person who doesn't go announcing his romantic status all over the island. Now, have you seen my new coffee?" Willow's face brightened as she changed the subject in a clear effort to keep her sister from fretting over her romantic problem.

“I noticed the bags when I walked in,” Autumn said.

At that moment, three customers entered the shop. They crowded the shelves, browsing around, oohing and aahing over the items on display. It was easy to see that the three were here for the coffee festival, because they were all wearing jackets with “Massachusetts Coffee Society” on the lapels. How fabulous that this festival was attracting visitors from far and wide, keen to come and enjoy their favorite brews on vacation.

Autumn waited while they picked out some jewelry, dish towels and paintings, plus a few bags of coffee. She made sure to keep Max absolutely still.

“Sit,” she reminded her dog in a stern murmur as the three approached the till. Max was quivering all over with the need to spring to his feet and greet these kind people, one of whom was even looking at him.

“Nice doggie,” the nearest woman, swathed in a pink jacket, said in a pleasant voice, beaming at Max.

His tail thumped the ground. That was okay. As long as he stayed sitting, and the tail was at floor level, it couldn’t turn into a sweeping destruction zone.

The three paid for their items and headed out. Then, taking the path least likely to cause any tail related catastrophes, Autumn guided the now excited Max back through the shop, to look at the coffee shelf.

“See here? It’s called Richmond’s Roasts, and it’s a lovely brand. Medium and dark roast options, and there are a few flavored specialties which are lovely – hazelnut and vanilla – intense, but not overpowering.”

“I need to buy a couple of bags from you. One plain and one hazelnut. That’ll be perfect for the guests tomorrow morning. I’ll stay here with Max while you ring it up.”

“I’m going to recommend a bag of this other one, Bell’s Brew, as well. Bell’s Brew is very tasty, although the supplier nearly exploded when he saw other brands on the shelf here. He tried to make me sign a sole supply contract.”

“That sounds like bullying behavior,” Autumn said.

Willow rolled her eyes. “They’re all as bad as each other.”

“They are?” Autumn asked. The Richmond’s Roasts salesman wanted me to use a different shelf for his brand, and as for the other one who came in yesterday, Carter’s Coffee, he wanted me to remove everything else in my shop. His coffee wasn’t even that good.”

Autumn hadn’t thought that the world of coffee making would be ultra-competitive, simply because coffee drinking was such a congenial activity. But she guessed it was a cutthroat world out there.

 “I hope you refused to entertain that idea,” Autumn said.

Willow nodded. “I didn’t exactly laugh in his face, but my mouth twitched. He got the message, I’m sure.”

 “So it seems like there’s fierce competition between them?”

 “Much more so than last year. Everyone’s trying to edge out everyone else, and it makes me feel uneasy. There’s enough room in the island for a few competing brands, surely?”

Now, Autumn felt concerned. Suppliers bickering and fighting could destroy the success of the festival. She found herself worrying about the event that was going to bring income, fun and activity to the pre-winter island economy. What would happen if anything went wrong?

CHAPTER FOUR

Walking into the festival hall the next morning, Autumn’s breathed in the intense aromas of fine beans and brews. The place was bustling with activity, even though it was only ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Kiosks lined the walls, selling boutique coffee beans, fine teas, chocolate, accessories and clothing. This was a coffee lover’s paradise – and luckily, she was a coffee lover.

It was a match made in heaven!

As she wandered from stall to stall, Autumn welcomed the distraction from the dilemma of Ben’s blond companion.

In the end, she had dropped off the ticket at the vet practice. He'd called her later in the afternoon, and they'd spoken briefly. He'd thanked her for the ticket and said that he would try to get there in the afternoon. Saturday mornings, she knew, were always a busy time at his practice.

He hadn’t mentioned the blonde, and their phone conversation had been cut short by an emergency call coming in for him.

Hopefully, she’d get to see him this afternoon, and find out if everything was alright between them. But in the meantime, the coffee was enticing her senses.

“Come on here, and try Ruby’s Best Blends,” a red-haired woman invited her, her voice firm. “We’ve got the very best coffee at the show. Our beans are selected for their quality, and also for their planet-friendliness. After all, nobody wants to buy coffee that has been unsustainably sourced, do they?”

Was it Autumn’s imagination, or did she glare at her neighboring stall holder, who had a stall called Brewing Magic?

“My coffee comes from organic plantations, where all workers receive annual bonuses and have their families living on site,” the Brewing Magic stallholder called, in a loud, piercing voice.

“My coffee comes from biodynamic plantations, where coffee is harvested according to nature’s rhythm, and all workers have three weeks’ annual paid leave, and a small share in the profits of the business,” Ruby called back triumphantly.

Her neighbor retreated, looking miffed, as she pressed a tester cup into Autumn’s hand.

“Taste this, our Breakfast Blend,” she said.

Autumn wondered if it worked the same way wine tasting did? Deciding to use the same principles, she swirled the coffee in the cardboard mug, and then sniffed it, to get the aroma. Only after doing that did she take a sip of it, allowing the rich, complex, and slightly fruity taste to permeate her mouth before swallowing.

“Delicious,” she judged.

“A breakfast blend?” The voice was familiar. Turning, Autumn saw it belonged to Thom Voigt, who was the owner of Voigt Events and Entertainment. He was very supportive of the town’s activities. Autumn personally thought that these coffee sellers should be directing their sales pitches at him, who held large events, rather than her, who loved coffee, but only had seven rooms in the guesthouse.

"Hello, Autumn," he said.

“Good to see you. Been busy?” she asked.

“Thankfully, it’s been chaotic this late in the season. All the big events are over now, but there are smaller ones still coming up. Of course, it means we're short-staffed. There's so much to do, and we've got two of our team off with the flu, and another two taking their vacation somewhere warm.” He smiled ruefully. “So we’re run off our feet.”

“I feel the same, without an assistant for the weekend,” Autumn said, guiltily thinking of her own guesthouse, which she’d abandoned to come here. The guests all had her phone number if something went wrong, but even so, she wished she could be there, standing at the desk, just in case. Sternly, Autumn reminded herself that her bed and breakfast was theoretically a place where people looked after themselves once breakfast was over.

“What’s happened to Jasmine?” Thom looked worried. “Is she also ill?”

“No, she’s here. She volunteered to run a food kiosk, and I know it’s going to be a roaring success,” Autumn said proudly. She glanced down the hall, catching a glimpse of the red and white banner that Jasmine had designed. “I’d better go and buy something from her,” she told Thom.

Turning to Ruby, she reassured her, “I'll definitely be back soon for some coffee,” before hurrying down the aisle between the stalls.

There was a queue of people outside Jasmine’s kiosk, and Autumn had to wait in line while the visitors in front of her were served. The pastries and cakes looked mouthwatering. That frosting! Each one was so beautifully decorated. What was she going to choose?

In the end, when she reached the front of the line, Autumn picked a mini gingerbread cake, decorated with frosting flowers, a creation of Jasmine’s that she hadn’t tried before.

“This looks delicious,” she said.

Jasmine, pink-cheeked and flustered, looked rushed off her feet as she put it in a bag for Autumn.

“I can’t believe it’s been so busy. Visitors keep coming back and buying more,” she said.

“I knew you were going to be the biggest hit at the festival,” Autumn agreed. The gingerbread smelled enticingly of spices and was baked perfectly. The crust on it, crispy and potentially divinely chewy, made Autumn want to devour it then and there, especially since she knew that under the crust would be the most luscious, tasty crumb.

Did she dare to eat it? Or would someone immediately come up and greet her, forcing her to spray crumbs as she tried to reply and swallow at the same time?

There was every chance this would end badly, but she couldn’t resist. Turning away from the kiosk, she bit into that tempting crust, the aroma of sugar and spice teasing her nostrils as she savored its perfect chewiness.

Jasmine was unbeatable. This was the very best gingerbread she’d ever tasted.

Then, of course, there was a tap on her shoulder.

Turning around, she saw it was Willow.

Her sister, with her dark hair held back by jeweled clips, had a mischievous expression on her face.

“Mm-hmm-hmm-mm,” Autumn said, gesticulating with the hand that wasn’t holding the gingerbread, her lips firmly closed.

“Oh, sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?” Willow asked.

“Mmm,” Autumn nodded, trying to express, with her eyes, that she’d just been transported to paradise via a piece of gingerbread.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” Willow continued.

“MMM, mmhmm?” Autumn replied.

“Firstly, will you come with me to do the coffee challenge?  There’s a great prize on offer. If you can correctly identify the eight coffees, then you go into the draw for an actual coffee machine. A real Italian one, in deep red, with chrome trimmings, and all the fixings. You have to check it out. It would look perfect in your dining room.”

“Wow,” Autumn said, finally finishing her gingerbread.

“Then, when we’ve done that, please will you come with me to The Local Brew, down at the harbor?”

“What?” Autumn stared at her sister in puzzlement. “You’re in the island’s coffee hotspot right here. And The Local Brew’s harbor branch isn’t open today, because of the festival. Trevor Brewster has a kiosk here instead. He’s doing coffee to-go this weekend.” She glanced in its direction, noticing that it wasn’t yet open.

“I know,” Willow said. “But I need to go down to see Trevor. He's the customer I was telling you about yesterday, the problem one who's been complaining about everything, and a difficult payer. I sent him a few strongly worded messages, and I'm now going down there with the last few tablecloths that he wanted additional unpaid changes to. I am going to refuse to leave until I get my money. I'd like you there for moral support in case he gets nasty.”

Looking at Willow, Autumn realized for the first time that her sister looked anxious about this meeting. In fact, with the mention of those nasty messages, Autumn thought the meeting might end up being more of a showdown.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’m sorry he’s that kind of a person,” Autumn said to Willow, resolving never to set foot in The Local Brew again. Of course she was going to go with her sister, and support her in this showdown, no matter how nasty it got.

Autumn hadn’t had many dealings with Trevor Brewster. He was a relatively new arrival on the island, who’d set up a coffee shop at the harbor in competition to an established one. In summer, both had been busy, and had done well.

Maybe it was an ingrained sense of loyalty that had made her go to the other coffee shop more often. Or maybe it was just that the service at The Local Brew had always felt a bit impersonal and perfunctory.

Willow shrugged. “He’s a difficult customer. I’m not dealing with him again, or drinking his coffee. I feel it’s been less tasty than usual in any case.”

“Why not wait until he comes here and then shove those tablecloths in his face?” Autumn didn’t usually suggest such violent measures, but she was as protective as a lioness when it came to her sister.

“I’d rather make sure I’ve kept my side of the bargain and delivered them. Besides, I want to enjoy the coffee festival, and not feel nervous, hanging around and waiting for him to get here,” Willow said. “I have a university student looking after my store until one p.m. That’s all the time I’ll have to shop around and see the festival.”

“Well, I suggest we do the coffee tasting first,” Autumn said. “Then, we’ll have had some fun before we do the nasty business of getting money out of Trevor.”

They walked to the far end of the hall, where the coffee-tasting competition was advertised, and the prize itself was on display.

Autumn nearly swooned when she saw it. It was magnificent. What a machine. She could visualize it in her dining room. Well, with a slight stretch of the imagination. No wonder people were flooding into the festival. It was very clever of the town’s organizers to have come up with such a sought after prize, because the festival entry fees would hopefully reach record levels.

Aromas swirled out to meet her, as a white overalled barista ushered them inside.

"Are you ready to take the test?" he asked, with a smile that flashed white teeth in an olive-skinned face. "Are you ready to win the prize?"

“Ready and motivated.” Autumn glanced excitedly at Willow as they headed in.

“There are eight coffees that are randomly numbered. You need to correctly identify them with eight descriptions on the description chart, according to taste.”

Immediately, Autumn saw this would be a challenge. Every blend and bean was different, and no two descriptions were the same. There was a dark roast, a medium roast, a light roast. There were a couple of blends and a couple of single-origin coffees. The notes and flavors were briefly added to the description, for anyone who had the palate to identify them. That would be Jasmine, of course, but Jasmine wasn’t allowed to take part this year. That meant the field was open, and it would be anyone’s prize.

Probably not Autumn’s prize, but she was hopeful nonetheless.

She headed into her kiosk and filled out her name, phone number and email address on the iPad. Then, it was time to taste the eight coffees in the random cups in front of her, and see if she could work out which was which.

Tension filled her. This really mattered. Already, she was starting to make internal bargains with herself.

“If I get all these right, then it will all be okay between me and Ben.”

Don’t put pressure on yourself that way, she urged her own mind. Just enjoy the coffee. And if you can, channel Jasmine.

She sipped the first and the second. They tasted exactly the same. What on earth? Had they made a mistake? What if she had eight identical cups?

Autumn Ray, she chided herself, stop being an idiot. Good grief, if there was a prize for overthinking, you’d win it. There isn’t, it’s just coffee, so calm down and taste properly.

She went back to the first one and tasted it again. This time, she could taste the difference. The organizers had provided a glass of water so that the competitors could cleanse their palates between the different sips. There was even a small plate of butter cookies, doubtless there for the same reason. Absently, Autumn ate one to see if it helped her palate recalibrate.

Then, she studied all the descriptions very carefully before taking a sip from each of the cups, leaving a gap in between each one so that she could savor and understand the coffee notes.

The image of that machine in her guesthouse was so magnetic, she could almost see it there. How her guests would love it.

Now, she was getting an idea. Cup one had seemed like the darkest roast to her, even though she wasn’t sure if it was just her first impressions. And cup three had a definite fruity flavor. Cup four was lighter. Cup five, to her, had an aftertaste of chocolate.

Slowly but surely, she started matching up the cups with the descriptions. There were a few that she ended up guessing, she admitted it. Her palate wasn’t that good.

But overall, she thought she’d gotten at least a few of them right. She was happy with her selection by the time she finally pressed Enter, and committed her results to the record.

Then, she let out a deep breath. That had been surprisingly stressful. She’d felt as if she’d been engaged in a mental battle with the coffees themselves, extracting their true nature and their essential flavors, using the admittedly limited power of her taste buds.

She stood up and headed out. As she did, Willow emerged from the other kiosk.

Willow looked pale and haunted. “Goodness me,” she said, “that was far harder than I expected. I think I finished every single one of those tasters, trying to decide which one was which. I may go into caffeine overload just now, and need some medical intervention.”

“I feel the same,” Autumn said. “It felt like a battle of wills in there. I hope one of us did well.”

“Is there a second prize?” Willow asked hopefully, but Autumn shook her head.

“It doesn’t say anything about a second prize. I think it’s the machine or bust.”

“Well, at least with all the caffeine inside us, we should fly down to the harbor,” Willow said, glancing at Trevor’s kiosk. It was still unoccupied, one of the last remaining ones that were standing empty.

“Yes. It was energizing and warming. Just what we need for this cold walk.”

They headed to the cloakroom where Willow had left the bag with the tablecloths inside and claimed it. It was quite heavy. As they walked, Autumn took one of the bag's handles so that it swung between them.

“Are these those yellow and white ones?” Autumn asked. She’d bought a few for her own breakfast room recently.

“Nope. These are different ones. They are red and white checked, very cheerful and bright. I think they’ll be fabulous for a coffee shop,” Willow said. “But Trevor came up with problems every step of the way. After I’d had them all made, he wanted to change the color to a darker red. Can you believe it?”

The cold air was dropping in temperature with every step they took as they headed to the harbor. It was busier than usual for the time of year. A ferry was arriving as they walked down, and it looked to be packed with passengers arriving. Better still, there were very few people standing in line to leave.

They veered to the left, heading down the smaller, paved paths that led in between the network of buildings. The Local Brew was on the right.

Its shop front looked dark.

“Are you sure he’s here? What if – what if he’s at home with the flu?” Autumn asked.

“He didn’t call or message me to tell me so. He didn’t answer my earlier call, either, but at least if I keep our arrangement, I can say I’ve done my part,” Willow replied.

The steel door of the coffee shop was closed, but looking closely, Autumn saw it was not locked. It was simply pushed closed so that nobody would think the shop was open and accidentally walk in.

She pushed it open, and it let out a loud squeak, hinges protesting. The sound made Willow jump.

“Jeez,” she said. “That was creepy. This whole situation feels a bit strange.”

“It feels unusual,” Autumn agreed. “Mr. Brewster?” she called.

No answer.

“Mr. Brewster?” Willow shouted even louder. “Are you here? We’ve got your tablecloths.”

Still nothing. The silence felt threatening. Why was the shop’s door open?

Autumn’s hand dropped down, and clutched Willow's. Willow's fingers felt cold, and her grasp was tight.

“Shall we see if he’s – if he’s maybe in the back room?”

“Let’s take a look.”

Autumn was having uneasy flashbacks. She was remembering a time in the summer when she’d gone into a shopkeeper’s back room and found that person dead. That had turned out to be murder.

This wouldn’t be the same situation, of course. Maybe Trevor had just popped out somewhere. That must be why the door had been unlocked, but the interior of the little shop was dark, with chairs on tables.

“You go first,” Willow invited, as they walked through the shop to the back office door.

“No, you go first,” Autumn insisted politely. “You have his tablecloths after all.”

“Mr. Brewster?” Willow called his name once more, a distinct quiver in her voice. “Are you in there?”

There was silence, broken only by Autumn hiccupping. The sound was explosively loud, and filled the silent space.

“Was that you?” Willow turned to her, her eyes wide.

“It’s the coffee,” Autumn confessed. “I had quite a lot of it. It does this to me. I’d actually – HIC – forgotten. It’s been a while since I overloaded on caffeine.”

“Did you hear something from in there?” Willow turned to the door, and Autumn’s heart sped up as she listened hard.

But the only sound was another ear-splitting hiccup from her own lips.

“Could you stop doing that?” Willow hissed.

“I can’t control it,” Autumn said apologetically, her diaphragm convulsing again. That coffee had definitely been too much, too fast.

“I’m trying to listen. I don’t want to walk in and – and something is there,” Willow said.

“If anything is there, they know we’re – HIC – coming,” Autumn said. These hiccups were so intense, they were painful.

“Okay. I’m just worried he got – attacked or something, you know.”

Autumn hiccupped again in agreement.

Willow sighed. “Okay. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“On the count of three, then. One, two, three.”

Autumn took a deep breath, desperately trying to suppress the hiccup that was threatening. Then, they both shoved the door wide.

It banged back with a slamming sound that caused both of them to jump. Inside here, it was almost completely dark. Autumn blinked in the gloom as Willow groped for the light switch, her hand brushing over the plastered wall. Then she hiccupped once more in the darkness. And then, with a click, light illuminated the back room.

Willow’s grasp tightened as they stared down.

There was a smell hanging in the air that Autumn recognized. A rich, fruity smell of oil. Olive oil, perhaps? As she breathed it in, her eyes were drawn to the slumped body near the counter.

It was Trevor. Gasping in shock, Autumn saw that he was lying on the floor, with his feet in a pool of oil, and his head near the counter.

His face was pale, framed by spiky dark hair, his motionless lips open. His dark eyes were wide, his body still and unmoving.

Fear tightened Autumn's stomach so effectively that it stopped her hiccups in their tracks.

Trevor Brewster was dead.

CHAPTER SIX

A squeak escaped Willow’s lips. “Autumn!”

“Don’t move!” Autumn grabbed Willow’s hand even tighter. “Don’t move. I think he’s dead, but there’s oil all over the place. I don’t want you slipping.”

Her brain was finally working now as she stared around the room, her eyes lighting on the discarded bottle of olive oil that was lying on the floor near the counter.

It told a story. Trevor Brewster must have knocked the bottle off the counter, slipped in the oil, and banged his head either on the counter or else on the floor. Autumn could see a darker stain on the floor, where a gash to the scalp might have briefly bled.

It was totally still in here. Totally quiet.

Apart from Willow gasping. “But – but – can’t we give him mouth to mouth? I mean, I don’t know how to do it, but surely we can try? We must save him, somehow. We must!”

“He’s dead.” Tiptoeing forward, avoiding the oil, Autumn bent down and grasped his wrist. Cold, lifeless. No trace of a pulse. “We need to call 911 to have his body taken away.”

Autumn dialed the number and briefed the operator. But, as she gave them the address, Autumn found herself thinking – this can’t be the same again. It surely can’t. Can it?

This was obviously an accident. He'd slipped in the olive oil. At a glance, it was clear what had happened. Wasn't it?

If you overlooked the lack of any skid marks in the olive oil, and you didn’t wonder too hard about how a bottle could have fallen off the counter while conveniently open. It wasn’t as if there were other bottles nearby.

She was shivering, and only partly because both of them were now standing in the cold, too spooked to go into the coffee shop at all. Autumn’s ears were straining to hear the sound of the sirens. Surely the ambulance, or the coroner, or whoever was being dispatched, would get here quickly?

“I can’t see any other sign that he slipped,” Willow said, carefully walking around the nearest table so that she had a view of his feet. “I can’t even see any oil on his shoes.”

“Me, either.”

Autumn felt a surge of relief as she heard the sound of the ambulance, while knowing that elsewhere, the sound would cause consternation. People would be turning their heads as the ambulance sped by – slowing down for horse buggies, of course. They'd all be wondering what had happened and why there was a car flying down the island's roads.

The ambulance rounded the corner, and Autumn rushed over to meet it. Two paramedics climbed out, carrying their kit bags.

“What’s the issue, ma’am? Apparently there’s been a death?” the one in the lead said. Then, recognizing her, he said, “Oh, Autumn, it’s you?”

"Yes, it's me, Robin. How's your mum?" Even at that stressful time, she felt the need for a polite question. The last time she'd seen Robin's mum, who was one of the matrons at the local clinic, she’d been on crutches with a broken ankle after tripping over her cat.

“She’s much better. Only two weeks more to go in the cast,” Robin said. “She’s back at work already, but taking it easy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Autumn said. Then, getting back to business, she explained, “Listen, there’s a man inside who I am sure is dead. He’s the coffee shop owner, Trevor Brewster. But before you head in, I’m warning you, you need to be careful. There’s spilled oil inside, and I feel it might be a crime scene, not just an accident.”

Robin’s face looked serious as his gaze turned from Autumn to Willow, and then back to Autumn again. She was sure he was taking in how shocked they both looked.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he said. “Will you ladies please stay here?”

“We’ll do that,” she promised.

The paramedics headed inside, and Willow turned to Autumn.

“You really think that it was foul play?”

"I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong." Now, Autumn was second-guessing herself. "It was just my first thought."

“I didn’t see any oil on his shoes, but maybe I didn’t look carefully enough. Maybe I was in shock.”

“Perhaps we both were.”

“It’s awful if he’s dead, no matter what the cause is, but somehow, I’d feel easier if I thought it was an accident.”

“I’d feel more at peace myself,” Autumn agreed.

She kept watch on the street, ready to warn off anyone who headed down this way, but luckily there weren’t many people around. Most people were walking straight from the harbor to the coffee festival.

Then, footsteps from behind her told her that the paramedics were coming out.

“Bring a stretcher,” Robin told his partner. “But don’t go back in there yet.”

Those words told Autumn everything she needed to know, but if she hadn’t know, she would have done a few moments later, when he pulled out his phone and called the police.

This was no accident. She’d sensed it, and the paramedic clearly felt the same as he relayed the address.

Autumn took a deep breath. The police were arriving on the scene, and this entire scenario was shifting into something darker and scarier than she’d thought it would be.

If the residents had thought the ambulance was a sensational sight, wait until they heard the shrill siren of the police car. That was only used in serious emergencies. Autumn knew from experience that the noise would attract people.

Curious, afraid, apprehensive. The truth was that if Trevor Brewster had been murdered, the killer himself might even be listening out for the police sirens.

Thinking of killers, chills prickled Autumn’s spine as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Someone was walking up to the scene. Who was it? Was this an innocent member of the public, or the killer, coming back to make sure his victim was dead?

Her jaw dropped as the person rounded the corner.

It was Ben.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ben was equally astounded to see her, Autumn realized. Stopping in his tracks, he did a double take, and then stepped hesitantly forward, looking around at the activity – the paramedics wheeling the stretcher up to the door, Autumn and Willow with their pale, strained expressions. And then, from the street, the sound of the police siren blared out.

“Autumn! What’s happening?” Concern was evident in his bright blue eyes. He was breathing hard, and she realized he must have been alerted by the sound of the ambulance, and run straight from the veterinary clinic, down here, perhaps to check if there was an emergency. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m afraid it isn’t.” She stepped toward him. In other circumstances, she might have hugged him, but what with everything that had happened in the past few hours, she settled for a polite nod.

“Has there been a death?” The fact that the paramedics weren’t going anywhere with the stretcher clearly clued Ben, and again, Autumn nodded.

“It’s Trevor Brewster, the owner here.”

“Trevor?” Ben’s frown became more perplexed. “I think I know him. He’s served me a few times when I’ve come in here.”

He glanced around uneasily as the siren reached a crescendo and then cut off. A car door slammed, and the next moment, Officer Warring, the Magnolia Bay police officer, rounded the corner at a loping walk. On his belt, his radio was crackling.

“Morning, morning.” Concern shone from Officer Warring's round, good-natured face. He immediately took in Autumn's presence with a quizzical glance before returning to the paramedics. "What's the problem here? I understand there's a suspicious death?" Again, his gaze rested on Autumn, as if she'd been far too closely associated with suspicious deaths in his view so far.

“Yes, Officer,” the paramedic replied politely. “The first witnesses on the scene, these two ladies, saw that there were some suspicious circumstances. When we took a look we confirmed that the suspect was deceased, but didn’t interfere with the scene further. We decided it would be best to call you immediately.”

“What circumstances are these?” Already, Warring had his notebook out. “Give me an overview of what you saw.”

“Well, we were the ones who saw it.” Willow spoke, her voice breathless. “I came to deliver tablecloths because Trevor hadn’t come to the coffee festival. I thought he must be here, so I came down.”

“And you walked in?” Officer Warring asked.

From around the corner, more running footsteps signaled the arrival of a junior officer, who must have been called from elsewhere. Perhaps he’d arrived by bicycle, because his face looked reddened and flushed as he rushed up, adjusting his helmet and taking position next to Warring.

“Yes,” Autumn said. “We called out, but Trevor was clearly nowhere around, so we decided it would be better to go in and find him. We saw the shop was unlocked, you see, and knew that he must be inside.”

“So we headed in,” Willow said breathlessly, as if determined to give her version, too. “We headed all the way to the back room, and we saw him dead on the floor. I’d probably have gone straight up to him, but Autumn caught sight of the oil on the floor.”

“Oil on the floor?” Officer Warring said thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Autumn said. “There was a bottle of olive oil spilled on the floor. The bottle is still lying there, and the oil’s all around his feet.”

“Thank you for the explanation,” Warring said. He turned to his junior officer. “We’ll need to be careful in there, especially while wearing the foot covers. Watch where you walk, and don’t disturb any possible evidence.”

Everyone watched in silence as Warring and his junior officer headed in.

“Why did you think it wasn’t accidental?” Ben whispered to Autumn, as the paramedics moved toward the door.

“Because there was no sign of him slipping in it,” she said. His eyebrows rose.

“That was well observed,” he said, and she felt a prickle of warmth at the praise. Were things still okay between them? Perhaps it was her own imagination, creating problems where none existed.

Except then, as she had the thought, Ben’s phone rang, and glancing at the screen, he moved quickly away to answer it.

"Hi, Louisa. Yes, perfect," he said. "Just head out the kitchen door and go straight down to the main road. Then turn right. You'll see the town hall ahead and about a hundred signs for the festival. You can't possibly miss it."

Autumn's heart was pounding faster. Louisa? Whoever she was, she was clearly on first-name terms with Ben, and she'd been staying at his house from the sounds of things. Scenarios loomed in her mind. A secret girlfriend that he hadn't told anyone about? Perhaps he'd wanted to wait until he was settled here.

At any rate, whatever the reason for Louisa’s presence here was, she knew she was going to find out. Ben turned to her and he said, in a quiet voice, “Listen, Autumn, I need to tell you…”

And then, before he could say another word, Officer Warring came out. He was walking carefully in his plastic foot covers, but his face was grim. His gaze went straight to Autumn.

“I’m calling forensics,” he said. “They are on their way from the mainland. I need to interview both you ladies, if you were the first on the scene.” Again, his gaze flicked from Autumn to Willow. “Separately,” he added. “I don’t want you influencing the other’s version.”

He beckoned to the door that led into the main coffee shop, and Autumn followed him in, gulping as she did so.

A version of events? Without a doubt, this was a suspicious death, and dread chilled her stomach at the thought.

"Tell me your movements from the time you arrived here," the officer invited her.

In a voice that sounded shaky but resolute, Autumn described what had happened.

“We came down here to deliver the tablecloths. And when we walked in, it felt so – so empty and spooky. I had this strong feeling that something was badly wrong,” she said. “We called out, but when Trevor didn’t answer, we headed through to the back room, and he was there. Autumn was about to go forward, and try to help him – but I saw the oil and knew that something was strange about all of this. I managed to avoid the oil and I grasped his wrist, and knew he was dead.”

She squirmed uncomfortably as she spoke. That unseeing gaze had provided her with the clue she needed.

"When was the last time you spoke to Mr. Brewster or had any contact with him?"

“I was in the shop a couple of weeks ago,” Autumn said. “I haven’t seen or spoken to him since then. Willow had been in contact with him recently.”

“Ah.” He looked at her in a considering way. “Now, Ms. Ray, I know that in the past, when we’ve been unfortunate enough to have serious crimes on the island, you’ve been compelled to try to help.”

“Yes. Yes, I have.” Scenarios spun through Autumn’s mind. Her intervention had been scary, but necessary. It had helped to solve the crimes. She thought it had been worthwhile, but she also acknowledged that it had put her in danger.

“I need you to leave the police to do their job,” he said in a terse voice. “This could affect the success of the festival, and the town council is extremely invested in it going without a hitch. When the 911 call came in, I was patrolling the street outside the festival. We were trying to make sure nothing goes wrong. How were any of us supposed to know that a crime would happen down at the harbor?” He sounded frustrated, an emotion that Autumn shared.

I definitely won’t interfere,” she promised. But already, stress was surging inside her. Officer Warring had two different jobs to do. He had to investigate the death, and he had to police the festival closely. Those two roles were not possible to do simultaneously. Yes, he could get help from the mainland. Maybe they’d have a few spare officers they could send over to help out – if they were not on vacation, or sick, or suffering the same staffing issues that everyone on the island seemed to be experiencing right now.

"Did you see anything else? Hear anything?" Warring asked, and Autumn crinkled her forehead, trying her hardest to remember. The problem was that she and Willow had been distracted. They'd been carrying the bag between them and talking nonstop. Plus, Autumn had been suffering from caffeine-induced hiccups. Those hadn't helped either. What with one thing and another, if someone had left the area furtively, Autumn didn't think she'd have heard.

“I didn’t notice anything,” she said.

Again, as the officer nodded, scribbling notes, she wondered what the reason for this suspicious death had been. Maybe he’d had personal things going on in his life. This surely couldn’t have been a random crime.

“You can go,” Warring said, and Autumn stood up and left the quiet, lonely coffee shop, beckoning Willow over.

Looking pale, Willow headed in. Before she went through the door, she whispered, “Ben had to leave. He was – he was meeting someone at the festival.”

Louisa. Autumn felt a sense of doom. He was meeting Louisa there. Who was she in his life? Why had he felt the need to explain her presence to Autumn in a way that had sounded hesitant? She was suddenly very afraid of what this all might mean.

“I’ll head home,” she said.

She didn’t feel like going back to the festival. It would be far better to go to the guesthouse and make sure everything was on track there. She didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Unusually for someone who was usually so gregarious and who thrived on her interaction with people, Autumn found she just wanted to be alone.

She trailed back along the side street, turning onto the main road, and noticing that there was a small knot of people standing near the police car, talking among themselves and staring at the car as if it was a spacecraft that had just landed on the island.

“What happened, I wonder,” someone asked as she passed.

"Do you know what it was about, Autumn?" One of the onlookers who recognized her, raised their voice as she passed.

“The police are down there. And yes, there’s been an incident,” she said. It was as much as she felt comfortable saying.

She headed briskly past before anyone could think of any other questions that she wasn't ready to answer. There were a few called to her, but she pretended not to hear. The wind was blowing very hard, after all. By the time she got out of earshot, Autumn felt seriously stressed, as if she'd run the gamut in every direction today.

Having thought the debacle with Ben would be the low point of her day, she was shocked that it had gotten so much worse. A suspicious death. The sight of that body was seared in her memory. It had shocked her to her core. How evil that somebody had tried to cover it up, making it look like an accident by pouring olive oil over the floor. That glistening residue – she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Little details surged in her memory as she walked.

The way that his shoes had been shiny, the soles spotless. Not smeared in oil, she now realized. If he’d slipped in that oil, his shoes should have been covered in it, and it would have splashed up. Wouldn’t it?

She remembered the hand that had been outstretched when she grasped it, the fingers weakly curled. That wide sightless gaze. Creepy, disturbing, and mystifying.

Stop, Autumn told herself. Stop this now. Harking back to it won't do you any good, and it will only upset you. And there's no need to do anything. The police can handle this and will handle it. They'll get backup from the mainland, and should find the killer in no time.

Not that there was a bright side in such a terrible situation, but at least this murder had happened in an out-of-the-way coffee shop that wasn't even on the island's specially created Coffee Route. The festival wouldn’t be severely impacted by it, because it had happened elsewhere. A few people might be disturbed by it, but it would surely not cause general panic. It seemed to be a personal attack on Trevor Brewster, not a random robbery.

The police would do their work, and in due course, this shocking death would be a thing of the past, the crime solved, and the killer caught.

She headed up the pathway, trying to lift the burden of worry that hung over her. There was plenty to do to distract her from it. She could tidy the bedrooms, do some food preparation for tomorrow’s breakfast, and bring some wood from the shed out back to pile next to the fireplace. Max would help her with the chores. Then, later this afternoon, perhaps she’d go up to the festival again and have another look around.

“It’ll be a wonderful day,” Autumn told herself firmly, shutting the front door and starting to busy herself with her tasks. Hopefully, if she focused on them hard enough, she’d be able to forget this crime had happened at all

But it seemed like only a minute later that there was a hard, urgent knock on her front door.

The rapid series of bangs was so loud that Autumn almost dropped the tray full of empty cups that she was taking to the kitchen.

The cups rattled against each other as she set the tray hastily down on the desk in the lobby, before rushing over to the front door. Her first thought was that a guest had forgotten their keys. That sometimes happened, and it always seemed to fill people with a desperate sense of urgency when they couldn’t get in.

She flung it open, to see Willow standing on the doorstep.

Her sister’s face was chalk white, and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“What is it?” Autumn asked, her own pulse now going into overdrive. “What’s gone wrong?”

“I’ve just finished being interviewed by Officer Warring,” her sister got out in a quivering voice. “And he thinks I did it! He’s about to officially accuse me of the crime – and he’s forbidden me from leaving the island.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“You?” Autumn heard the incredulity in her voice, making it high and squeaky as she stared at her distressed sister. “But that’s – that’s impossible!” She beckoned Willow inside. “Come on in and sit down. You need a hot drink.”

“Not coffee, please,” Willow asked in a faint voice, as she stumbled inside. “I’m so jittery right now, I think another cup will send me into actual orbit.”

With his tongue lolling, Max trotted into the lobby, pushing his head against Willow’s hand as if asking why she was in such a state. Absently, she scratched him on his scruff.

“I know what you mean,” Autumn sympathized. That coffee tasting had definitely created a caffeine surplus. “How about some herbal tea? Come and sit down in the living room where it’s warm, and I’ll make you some herbal tea, and there are a few pumpkin fritters left over from this morning.”

She ushered her sister into the living room and then bustled around, getting the tea in the teapot and a couple of the fritters on a plate.

With her rescue supplies ready, she hurried back to the living room. Willow was leaning forward and warming her hands on the fire as if she was freezing cold. The caffeine definitely wasn’t doing the job of getting color into her face. She was still worryingly pale. Max had stationed himself by her feet, half lying on her boots as if he was trying to warm her up. Max was such a caring dog. As for Officer Warring – well, he was completely deluded if he thought her sister was guilty.

“Are you sure he thinks you did it?” Autumn then asked, pulling another chair over and perching on it, focused intently on her sister. “Because, you know, he can seem illogically suspicious when he questions people. He’s done it to me before. I think he makes you feel guilty, just so that you’ll spill out the truth if you do have anything on your mind.”

Willow shook her head with a wild expression in her eyes that made worry surge in Autumn.

“Unfortunately, he found proof,” she said.

"Proof?" Autumn's mouth dropped open in shock, and she hurriedly closed it again. "Proof of what? You didn't – you didn't…" Her voice tailed off, and she opened and closed her mouth, feeling like a fish out of water for a few moments before pulling herself together. "I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't. Would you?"

Willow sighed. “Of course not! I might want to murder a few people, but wanting to is very different from actually doing it. The problem is that those forensic officers arrived when Officer Warring was speaking to me. They didn’t find Trevor’s phone anywhere, but when I mentioned that I’d messaged him, they seized my phone and noted everything on it.”

"And? Just because there were a few calls between you is surely not a reason to treat you as a criminal. Did you explain you were selling him some items?" Autumn asked.

“That was the problem,” Willow said. “It wasn’t just the calls.”

“What was there between you?” Nervously, Autumn linked her fingers together as she waited for the answer.

"I sent him some messages," Willow admitted. "Things ended up getting a little heated. It was after you reminded me to stand up for yourself. I thought your advice was brilliant and that it would be the right thing to do. Only problem is I might have gone overboard on it."

“What were the messages?” Autumn asked. Now, her stomach was plummeting to the floor. Willow’s saying ‘a little overboard’ might mean something far worse.

“They seized my phone and refused to let me have it back, so I can’t read you the messages. But I basically told Trevor that I wasn’t prepared to give him any more stock without full payment. He started arguing and quibbling. I reminded him what he’d ordered, he told me he’d changed his mind, so I got mad. I said this was daylight robbery and that he was a terrible customer. He said he would make sure I suffered if I tried to damage his reputation. And I told him that he was an obnoxious bully who deserved much more than a damaged reputation, and that when I saw him again, I’d make him wish he’d never started messing me around at all, and that he’d better watch out, because when I got mad, I got dangerous.” Willow sighed. “That was all sent late last night. And yes, I had enjoyed a glass of wine before texting.”

Autumn looked up, meeting Willow’s anxious gaze, flummoxed about what to do now. That conversation sounded highly incriminating. Autumn could see why Officer Warring had suspected there was foul play.

“That’s very unfortunate,” she admitted. “It does, to someone who doesn’t know you well, look as if you might have had something to do with it.”

“That’s what Officer Warring thinks. He thinks I followed up on a direct threat,” Willow said, burying her face in her hands. “Now, I wish I’d reworded it and been calmer before I texted him.”

“But you came down there with me. There wasn’t time to kill him.”

Willow shook her dark, shiny head. “His argument is that I came there earlier, alone, and killed him. Then, coming back was a deliberate cover-up. I can’t even account for my time earlier, before I met up with you, because I was wandering around the festival hall, enjoying having a morning off from the shop. I wasn’t really doing anything. I didn’t speak to anybody. It was really busy, the stallholders were all dealing with customers, and I was just browsing. And there aren’t any cameras in the hall, obviously.”

“Isn’t it always like that? When you need to account for your time, you can’t,” Autumn said.

“I feel so terrible about this. I’ve never been suspected of murder before. He spent about ten minutes trying to persuade me that even if I pushed him accidentally and he fell over, I should rather just confess to it.”

“I hope you gave him no room for doubt,” Autumn said.

“I tried,” Willow admitted, which gave Autumn a chill. It didn’t sound as if things had gone well at all. She was seriously worried about what might happen next. Her sister, accused of murder?

At that moment, Autumn realized that she didn’t need to be worried. Not when she could take positive action.

She didn’t have to wait around for events to play out, and for Officer Warring to slowly do his research and find additional suspects – or maybe just decide to arrest Willow. No

Yes, she'd told the police officer that she wouldn't interfere in the case, but looking back on it, that had been more for reasons of her own personal safety. That was what Warring had seemed concerned about. So, as long as she kept herself safe, it should be all good? He couldn't possibly object to her making a few discreet inquiries that could only help him.

And more to the point, it would help Willow. If she could identify the killer, then it would save her sister a whole shedload of stress. It might even avert the worst-case scenario of Willow being wrongly accused of an actual crime.

“I’m so stressed,” Willow said. “What if I get arrested?”

“You don’t do well with stress. I remember, when it was time for tests, back at school, you used to end up pulling your hair out.”

“Yes. I’ve always been a hair puller,” Willow admitted. Even now, she was tugging at her dark locks. “If this carries on, I won’t have any hair left by next week.”

“You will,” Autumn assured her. “I’m not going to let this rest. I don’t trust Officer Warring to find the killer quick enough. I’m going to look into it myself.”

Relief and gratitude warmed Willow’s face as she stared admiringly at her sister.

“You are? Are you sure? I don’t want you to get into trouble. Or into danger.”

“I don’t want you getting into trouble. Not on my watch,” Autumn said firmly. “I’m sure that finding the killer will be easy and straightforward.”

That was an exaggeration, but Willow didn’t need to know it. “The only reason why Officer Warring might take longer than he should, is that he’s wearing two hats, so to speak, with this coffee festival,” Autumn then explained.

"Yes, he is. That was one of the things he spoke about to the other officer, in between interviewing me," Willow said. "I think he was quite keen to arrest me on the spot so that he could go back to policing the festival. Luckily, I managed to argue hard enough that he agreed there was some wiggle room. At any rate, he said he had a few things that he'd need to follow up on his side before he took any further action."

“He’s supposed to be getting help from the mainland. But I don’t know if he will,” Autumn said.

“No. I think help might be hard to find. The forensic officer was saying they have half their team down with flu, and that he’d worked two extra shifts this week just to cover for absent officers.”

“You see?” Autumn spread her hands, causing Max to raise his head from Willow’s feet, and glance up at her curiously. “It’s not going to happen. I can tell you already, he’s not going to get the help he needs, with so much manpower shortage that side, and so many extra jobs to do on this side. The only answer is to look into it myself.”

“If you can keep me out of prison,” Willow said humbly, “I’ll be so very grateful. I know I shouldn’t have sent a message like that. It’s my own fault, actually.”

She was definitely feeling better now, Autumn saw, nibbling on her fritter and then devouring the whole thing. While she got some calories inside her, Autumn added some comfort and reassurance.

“It is not your fault! Trevor Brewster deserved every word of that message. In fact, he deserved something even stronger. It is bad timing, though. But don’t you worry. I’ve already decided where to start.”

"You have?" Willow's face brightened. Then, she glanced up at the wall clock. "Oh, goodness, look at the time. I'd better get back to the shop, or I'll be late, and then my student helper will be upset." She turned to her sister. "Autumn, I so appreciate you doing this, but I don't want you to get into any danger. Promise me you'll stay safe. If I end up spending a night or two in jail, it's not the end of the world. I'd rather have that than you getting hurt."

Autumn hugged Willow, hard.

“Don’t you worry about me,” she said. “And now, you’d better get back to your shop.”

As for her, she knew where she was going.

It might not be directly related to the case. But it was a difficult confrontation and it was weighing on her mind, and she wanted it over with.

Heading out of her bed and breakfast, Autumn turned in the direction of the veterinary clinic. Consulting hours were over now, and she wasn’t going to wait for Ben to come and speak to her. She was going to have a showdown with him, right there, to clear the air before she embarked on her investigation.

CHAPTER NINE

The last patient was leaving the clinic, leading her German shepherd across the road, as Autumn arrived at a brisk walk, feeling more breathless than she should have after the short stint up the hill. As she headed into the veterinary clinic’s disinfectant-scented interior, she acknowledged the breathlessness was more from nerves than effort.

She hadn’t brought Max with her, because she didn’t want to confuse the issue. This was not a visit where she was seeing the doctor in his professional capacity. Quite the opposite.

Autumn guessed that Ben’s assistant was tidying the back room, because the only person in the front room was Ben himself. He was bent over the computer, tapping keys, his dark hair flopping over his forehead as he glanced down at a book of jotted notes. Updating his patient records, Autumn guessed. But as soon as he saw her, he straightened up hurriedly, and the book fell closed.

“Hello!” he said, a worried expression on his face as he took her in. “I had to rush back to see a patient, but I was very concerned about what happened down there.” He glanced in the general direction of the harbor, and The Local Brew. “Are you and Willow okay?”

“Not really,” Autumn confessed. “Willow is a murder suspect. There were some issues between herself and Trevor, and she sent him nasty messages shortly before this happened.”

Ben grimaced at that. “Terrible timing,” he said. “But does that mean you – well, are you -?”

“I’m going to investigate and clear her name,” Autumn said.

“Do you want any help with that?” Ben leaned forward now, his expression anxious, as he closed the distance between them and spoke in a softer voice.

“I’d appreciate some help.” Autumn took a deep breath. “But there was something else you wanted to tell me when you saw me down at the harbor?”

"Yes." Ben's gaze drifted to the countertop, and his face reddened. "I might have made a faux-pas yesterday night."

What did he mean by that? Autumn felt concern flooding her as she waited for him to clarify.

“I wasn’t aware that if you go out for dinner with your sister-in-law, and she stays over because her husband is stuck in Texas, having a knee operation and she’s really worried about it, it apparently means you’re dating,” Ben said, his cheeks now glowing.

“Oh!” Autumn said. Now, she felt as if she was blushing, too. So that was what it had been all about?

"In fact, it might mean you're officially married," Ben clarified, his blush deepening. "I guess I'm used to big city life, and I didn't realize quite how fascinating this entire scenario would be to the whole of Magnolia Bay. I had five clients this morning asking me what was going on, who the blonde was, and if this was my lady friend from the big city, and if I was planning any announcements any time soon.”

“That must have been – surprising.”

Relief was making Autumn's knees weak. So it had been his sister-in-law. Best possible scenario. Plus, Willow had been correct in soothing her fears. She owed her sister more than ever now.

“I wanted to apologize to you in person because I’m sure you must have heard something, and probably felt very confused, when it was all so – so innocent that I didn’t bother telling anyone,” he said. “If it hadn’t been so last minute, I’d have invited you. But Louisa called me in a panic to say that my brother had fallen off his bicycle while participating in one of those mad ultra-distance endurance races – that’s what Patrick is into. She said he was being rushed to the hospital for an emergency operation, and there were no available flights there until lunchtime today. So, since she’s only about fifty miles away, I said she must come on over. I took her out to dinner, and she was able to FaceTime Patrick and find out that the operation went well. She headed to the coffee festival for a few minutes this morning to buy him some gifts, and now, she’s on her way to the mainland to catch her flight and be by his side.” He breathed out a long sigh. "It was a frazzling experience, and I'm so sorry that you might have gotten the wrong information."

"I did get the wrong information," Autumn admitted. "And I was very anxious to speak to you about it."

“I think – well, I wanted to check with you first, but I think it might be a good idea to tell people that we’re dating?”

“I think it would be,” Autumn replied. Outwardly she was trying to be calm and composed as this discussion showed her that her life was changing. Autumn Ray was dating again. And she loved that Ben had asked her first if it was okay to tell people, with that unsure look on his face, as if there might be a possibility she’d say no.

“Well, good.” He was looking vastly relieved, so much so that those broad shoulders were actually sagging slightly. “I’m – well, I’m thrilled. And next time my family comes over, I’d love for you to meet them in better circumstances.”

“I’d love that, too.”

It felt as if a ten-ton weight had been removed from her heart. It was skipping around as if it belonged somewhere in her head and not in her chest at all. But there was another weight still in place – that one in her mind, thanks to Willow's terrible predicament.

“What are we going to do about investigating?” Ben asked. “If you want my help, of course?”

“I need your help,” Autumn said. “Because I don’t have any idea who could have killed Trevor Brewster.”

At that moment, the practice assistant came through, carrying a broom, and taking off her blue apron as she reached the door. She smiled at Autumn, her eyes warm and blue through the thick glasses she wore, her hair curling around her good natured face.

“I’m off to the festival now. Going to get some coffee and cake. See you later, Autumn and Ben?” she said.

“You’ll definitely see us there,” Autumn agreed.

Now that she thought about it, the coffee festival seemed like a good place to start asking questions. Trevor had been one of the island’s most popular baristas. And if he had treated other people as badly as he treated Willow, somebody would surely know something.

***

The smell of coffee hung in the air, rich and aromatic, as Autumn and Ben entered the town hall. Autumn had to admit, though, that after her coffee overdose this morning, the smell wasn’t quite as enticing as it had been. Her body was saying, “Enough, thanks!” Those hiccups had been painful.

But luckily she wasn’t here to guzzle down tanker loads of coffee, but rather to do some discreet questioning.

The ins and outs of the island's coffee scene were a closed book to her, one that she needed to open. Up until now, she'd been nothing more than a happy customer at whichever of the coffee shops she'd visited.

Now, she needed to probe into the dark, rich, aromatic, and sustainably sourced world of the coffee suppliers themselves.

Walking in with Ben, she saw a few curious glances directed at her. The gossip grapevine had clearly been working overtime, with the fascinating chit-chat about the blond wife-to-be.

“Shall I head one way, and you go down the other way?” Autumn suggested to Ben in a low voice. Ben looked temporarily smitten by the wafting aromas.

“Absolutely.” The trance-like expression of bliss left his face as he refocused on the urgent business at hand. “Let’s do that.”

He reached over, and gave her hand a quick, tender squeeze, causing her heart to skip. And then, she was heading down the left hand aisle, on the hunt for the connections, and secrets, of the late Trevor Brewster.

Her first stop was at a kiosk called Fairly Coffee. The woman behind the counter had hair the color of coffee with cream – a rich, deep brown – and she was wearing a beige smock.

“Good afternoon,” she smiled. “I know you. You’re Autumn Ray, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Autumn said. “I don’t think I recognize you?” She quirked an apologetic eyebrow at the woman.

“I’m new on the island. I’m the back-room assistant at Lakeside Coffees. My boss asked me to help out at this kiosk today as it belongs to one of our suppliers, and they’ve gone back to the mainland to bring over more stock.”

“Oh!” Autumn looked at the woman with renewed curiosity.

Lakeside Coffees was her very favorite coffee shop, and it was the one that was in competition with The Local Brew. “How lovely to meet you,” she quickly continued. “I’ve always loved Lakeside Coffees, and thought you have the most incredible drinks and service. What’s your name?”

“I’m Miriam,” the assistant said, looking pleased by Autumn’s praise.

“I was wondering about that stall.” Autumn pointed a finger at the stall which was now the only unoccupied one in the whole town hall. The Local Brew. Trevor had obviously been intending to man it himself, and hadn’t organized anyone else to help out. Now, with his demise, that stall would stand empty today.

“Oh, yes, that’s our competition. I don’t know where he is, though,” Miriam said. “I expected him to be here, glaring at us.”

“Is there a lot of rivalry between you?” Autumn asked, feeling as if she was already following an important lead.

Miriam nodded. “Yes, unfortunately so. You know, we don’t like to fight. But Trevor is always causing problems and issues with my boss, Antonio. Antonio actually threatened him a while back.”

“Threatened?” Autumn asked.

Miriam nodded, her voice dropping. “I shouldn’t be talking about it,” she said, backtracking fast. “Because I wasn’t really supposed to overhear, I don’t think. You’re very easy to talk to, Autumn.”

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” Autumn said, “but it sounds as if this is a real concern, and it might be better for you to get it off your chest. I do keep things confidential if I hear about them. Being a bed and breakfast owner, I can’t exactly start gossiping about other people. If I did, I’d have no customers left.”

That wasn’t brilliant logic. She hoped that it sounded persuasive enough to nudge Miriam into sharing what she knew. She looked like she wanted to. As she handed Autumn a tester cup of coffee, her dark eyes were troubled.

“They had a big fight. Something about pricing,” Miriam said.

Autumn was not exactly surprised to hear that money issues had raised their head. She was expecting that.

“What was the fight actually about?”

“I think Antonio was accusing Trevor of copying their pricing every day. You know, Antonio runs regular specials, and he does so very thoughtfully.”

“Is that right?” Autumn sipped the coffee, feeling her heart instantly accelerate. It was as if her body was saying, “More coffee? Really? Well, we’ll see where we can put it!”

“Yes. He considers the pensioners, and that’s why we do Half Price Wednesday for anyone with a pensioner’s card. And students – well, before exams, he does Study Special Offers for anyone with a student card. Then, he does lots of fun, interesting specials throughout the year, we have Mother’s Day promotions, and in the summer, we have the Early Bird cups for people who go for early morning walks. They’re designed to draw in customers and make sure everyone feels they’re getting value,” Miriam said proudly.

“That does sound clever.” Autumn meant it sincerely. It would be wonderful to sit down with Antonio sometime when he wasn’t busy – which admittedly was hardly ever – and chat to him about business. He seemed to have a wealth of knowledge and to be a creative person.

But had this passionate man snapped in a moment of anger? If so, they needed to have a different conversation.

"The problem was that whatever discount he implemented, Trevor would immediately copy. He'd usually take a couple of extra cents off his prices so that he was constantly undercutting us, but in a petty way. Not even in a competitive way. It felt like an insult, really," Miriam explained.

“I can see why that would have made him mad,” Autumn sympathized.

“In the end, I think Antonio had enough, and he was ready to break, because it was just so annoying. So he charged out of his coffee shop one day, when he saw Trevor approaching, ready to open up, and they had the most massive fight, right there in the street. They were shouting at each other furiously. I thought it would get physical at one stage.”

“What, exactly, was Antonio threatening?” Autumn asked.

She thought that Miriam didn’t want to tell her, but that she was now committed to talking about the episode. As a compromise, she lowered her voice still further.

"He's Italian, obviously, and very hot-blooded. He was yelling that this had gone too far, that Trevor was trying to destroy him, and that he'd destroy Trevor in turn. I actually think Trevor looked quite scared, Antonio was so mad.”

“And did it work?” Autumn put her cup down after having had just one polite sip, and leaned her elbows on the counter, closing the distance between herself and Miriam still more, so that Miriam would be encouraged to talk.

“It seemed to work for a few days. But then, just yesterday, he was back to his old tricks again,” Miriam said. “Antonio looked as if he was ready to explode. So, that’s the reason why I’m glad he’s not here yet.” She glanced once more at the empty stall.

Autumn’s mind was racing with what she’d learned. This was valuable information. The anger, the frustration, the deliberate positioning of The Local Brew to undercut Lakeside Coffees and to try to erode their business – it had all been maliciously done.

Had Antonio delivered that killing blow?

“Where is Antonio now?” Autumn asked. Finding him seemed like a priority.

"He's outside somewhere." Miriam indicated the direction of the door. "He has been in and out because he's been organizing a few kiosks along the coffee route. When I went out to get stock, I saw him, busy arranging things in one of the buggies, ready to head up to the forest kiosk,” she said.

“I hope you have a successful day,” Autumn said. With other customers crowding in, Miriam’s attention was distracted, and that was all to the good. Autumn needed to head outside because the tempestuous Antonio had just become a prime suspect in his rival’s murder.

CHAPTER TEN

Looking around the crowded hall as she made her way to the exit door, Autumn couldn’t see any sign of Ben. He must be in one of the kiosks, gathering information – and, she was sure, topping up on caffeine. For now, she decided to go outside and speak to Antonio on her own. After all, it was important to do that before the buggy left, because it sounded as if Antonio had a very busy schedule.

She headed outside, feeling resolute, knowing that there was a good chance this mystery could be solved within the hour, and Willow’s name cleared.

Where was Antonio? He was a thickset, dark-haired man with a fervent way of speaking and a deep belly laugh.

It made all the sense in the world that a man this passionate could easily, in the heat of the moment, have shoved Trevor backward. Antonio was powerful and strong.

Scenarios were tumbling around in Autumn’s mind as she headed out, taking a deep breath of air that was freezing cold. The temperature was plummeting. Being outside, in the wind, made her appreciate the cozy environment of the town hall all the more.

Now, were there any buggies in sight?

She looked around. There was one – with her favorite pair of horses in harness, but the two chestnut horses with their white blazes were just dropping off a new arrival of guests. She couldn’t see any angry barista loading anything up.

How about that one?

Parked near the building’s corner, under a shadowy overhang, she saw a buggy on its own, with a horse dozing in front of it, covered in a gray blanket to keep out the chill while it wasn’t moving.

Staring through narrowed eyes as she hovered near the town hall’s doorway, Autumn recognized Antonio. He looked very different from when he was on duty in Lakeside Coffees. There, he’d always worn a striped apron and a broad smile. Now, dressed in a dark coat that reached to his thighs, and a gray woolen hat that squashed down his hair and made his head look like a bullet, he was a very different and more intimidating sight.

The way he was flinging a bag onto the buggy spoke of temper and anger. This was exactly the type of person who might commit a deadly assault.

Olive oil would surely be the substance of choice for an Italian to grab, in order to create a sketchy scenario for the crime.

Encouraged by the direction her own thoughts were taking her, Autumn stepped closer. Broaching the subject of murder was always a difficult moment. Antonio might react in a variety of ways. None of them were actually likely to be welcoming, and some of them could land her in trouble.

He was flinging what looked like the final bag in the pile, onto the back of the buggy. The horse, still dozing comfortably, shifted its hooves, resting its other back leg.

“Antonio,” she said, so loudly and suddenly that he jumped. He spun around to stare at her. Definitely, Autumn thought, he was on edge. And a murderer wouldn’t exactly be calm after having committed a deadly crime. Would they?

“What is it?” he asked in a deep, Italian-accented voice. “What do you want from me, please? I don’t want to be rude, but I’m in a hurry.”

“I need to ask you something very important,” Autumn said, closing the distance between them.

“Today, signora, I am not in a good mood,” Antonio said. “I’m busy and preoccupied. I have a lot on my mind. If you want to speak to me, come tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow is difficult for me. It’ll only take a moment," Autumn said. She'd never known Antonio to be so rude and dismissive. This was very different from his usual demeanor, and she was now wondering if the friendly coffee shop owner that she had exchanged occasional greetings with had been nothing more than a façade.

“I don’t have a moment!” Angrily, he leaped onto the buggy. The next second, to Autumn’s alarm, he shook the reins. The horse jumped to attention and then broke into a fast walk as he steered it to the road. Once there, another shake of the reins got the animal into a brisk trot.

“No! Wait! I need to ask you something incredibly urgent!”

He was escaping her via horse buggy! He was literally making a getaway. Who knew where he was going, or when she’d be able to ask him these important questions again. For all she knew, he could be making one last drop off before catching a boat and fleeing the island.

Only one thing for it.

Autumn pushed off from the grassy bank, getting as much speed as she could from this standing start. And then, she launched herself onto the road at a brisk jog, her legs flying over the blacktop, her eyes fixed on the horse and buggy ahead.

“It’ll only take a minute!” she shouted.

Antonio looked around at the sound of her voice, incredulity in his eyes as he saw her running.

“Signora, some other time. Go back and drink coffee!” he shouted.

“No! I’m not drinking coffee. I’m chasing you and I won’t give up until you stop!” she shouted back. His disparaging laugh told her that he didn’t buy her threat.

“You won’t last a minute. Biggles will outrun you. He is fit, and I have rented him for the day!” He turned away from her, relaxing back in his seat and holding the reins loosely as he clucked to the horse, keeping him in that level, ground covering trot.

That observation was true. Autumn had to acknowledge it. Right now, the caffeine was giving her a physical boost, but already, the breath was starting to burn in her lungs and her legs were telling her that while they were used to walking any distance she wanted to go, running was a very different story.

Biggles was going to beat her hands down in terms of endurance.

But how about in terms of raw, short-term speed?

Autumn dragged a lungful of air in. Then, with her arms flailing, she gave it everything she had. She flung herself forward, looking for speed above all else, feeling her purse thudding against her side with every stride she took, and hoping to goodness that she didn't misstep, and turn her ankle, and go sprawling down on the road.

But she was getting closer. Close enough to do what she needed to?

She had to try.

Grabbing the back of the buggy with both hands, Autumn gave a flying leap, pushing off from the blacktop and managing to get a leg over the buggy’s edge. Her actions unbalanced it, and it jolted wildly. With a startled cry, Antonio looked around, to see her scrambling aboard on top of the bags.

“Signora!” Astonishment resounded in his tone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m – I’m coming to – ask you some questions.”

He gave a resigned sigh.

“Walk,” he told Biggles, who dropped straight back into a comfortable, ambling walk, his hindquarters swaying.

Then, Antonio turned to her, frustration etched on his face. He held out a hand.

"Sit up front, at least," he snapped. "I’ll probably be liable somehow if you fall out.”

Autumn accepted the hand he offered, his gloved fingers gripping hers firmly as she scrambled to the front.

Her reckless, though daring maneuver had gotten her sitting next to a suspected killer. What she asked him in the next few minutes could make or break this case.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

For a while, Autumn wasn’t ready to ask any questions at all. Sheer survival, and getting some oxygen back into her lungs, was the name of the game. Was she actually wheezing? She was definitely breathing more noisily than usual. Usually, she didn't take off in a desperate sprint and board a buggy on the move.

It seemed that Antonio had the same thoughts in his mind. Looking at her with a perplexed frown, he asked, “Do you make a habit of doing such things, signora?”

“No,” she got out. “Only when I’m desperate.”

"Why are you so desperate?" Weirdly, her antics seemed to have acted as an icebreaker. At least he was talking now and not just shutting down. His mood had improved. The challenge would come when he realized what she was here to talk about.

It seemed better to get to the point in a direct fashion.

“When’s the last time you saw Trevor Brewster?” she asked.

His gaze was fixed on her now, eyes narrowed.

“Why should you ask that, signora?” he said cagily.

“Because I – well, because I want to know if you were responsible for the accident.”

There, it was out. Now, Autumn waited in trepidation for trouble to be unleashed.

“The accident?” He sounded thoughtful, and again, she got the impression he was thinking much more than he was actually saying.

"Yes. There was an accident earlier at his premises," Autumn said.

Now, Antonio looked troubled. A frown creased his forehead.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “There was an accident?”

“That’s correct,” she told him.

She didn’t expect what happened next. Antonio let out an angry breath.

"Well, this is something I didn't expect!" he blustered. "Somebody else must have been even madder than me and done it before I got my chance!”

“Your chance to do what?” Autumn was mystified. This conversation had taken a strange turn. She felt as if they were speaking at cross-purposes.

“My chance to take the revenge I was seeking,” he said. “I’ll tell you this because you are clearly quite mad. Should you try to report me to the police, signora, I’ll deny what I have said. But I am planning a little revenge that’ll cause him an expensive and worrying few days looking for a water leak that flooded his shop.” He chuckled. “The thought of him standing in a puddle of water, unable to fix it, as his customers all come over to my shop where the floor is dry – well, that is very pleasing to me. I thought it would be a fitting punishment to him for copying every one of my specials, disparaging my business that is the passion of my life.” He sighed in a contented way. “That water might even cause electrical problems. At this time of the year, that would be extremely inconvenient. He might have to close up his shop for a few days while he attempts to fix it. It’ll send a strong message to him.” He smiled cheerfully.

“Wait, so you – so you’re planning on doing that?” Autumn asked.

“I am a gentle, peace loving man.” Antonio took a hand off the reins to thump his chest. “But when I am pushed to my limits, then you will see the bad side of me. That side, I am going to reveal to Mr. Brewster, who thinks he’s so clever. Let him try to copy my specials while standing ankle-deep in water. No, he will learn, and he won’t do it again.”

Autumn felt as if she’d just strayed into an alternative reality. This was not the conversation she’d expected to have. If she had understood Antonio correctly, he was planning revenge in the form of sabotaging a water pipe. He hadn’t yet executed it. And he was speaking about Trevor as if he was still alive.

“I’m not sure if you are aware,” she began.

“Aware of what?” he challenged. “Aware that there will be implications if I am caught. I will not be caught. I have a sneaky plan in place. And I will deny, deny.” He grinned triumphantly.

How, exactly, was she going to break this news to him? And what would he do when she did? Autumn took a moment to think about this, noticing that they’d already covered the best part of a mile in their journey.

They were following a road that wound its way up through one of the island’s prettiest suburbs, Rows of scenic, neatly kept houses lined the road which led to a tiny lodge at the top of the hill, that backed onto fields and woods. With accommodations and camping that were busy throughout the summer, the lodge was a hive of activity. Now, it was a stop-off on the Coffee Route, where guests could enjoy the log fire-lit ambiance inside, before taking an invigorating hike around the least muddy of the fields.

“You may not be aware that Trevor has passed away,” she said.

“What? Whoa!” His voice was taut with surprise as he tugged briefly at the reins. Biggles stopped instantly. Autumn thought the horse might have fallen into an immediate doze.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice frantic. “Is this true, or some kind of a strange joke?”

“It’s true. Willow and I went down to deliver something to his shop, and we found him there – dead. That was this morning. So I came along with you on this ride to find out if you know anything about it.”

He uttered a few heartfelt words that Autumn guessed were among the choicest of Italian swear words. His dark eyes drilled holes in her as he stared.

“I’m trusting that you are not lying to me, signora?”

“It’s the truth,” she said.

He shrugged. "It is not my doing. Someone must have been angrier than me. This morning, I was not even at the festival. I was setting up a booth along the north side of the lake for those visitors mad enough to want to walk alongside cold water for a mile or so. I was nowhere near the harbor."

She saw only truth in his eyes. And slight disappointment, too. Without a doubt, Antonio was miffed that he’d lost the chance to have his revenge, because someone else had acted first.

“This makes the day seem bleak and hopeless,” he muttered, confirming Autumn’s guess. “I am not one to wish such a terrible thing on my enemies. Days of expensive inconvenience, yes, yes, yes. But death. Why, no. Never!”

Thoughtfully, he climbed down from the trap and removed Biggles’ blanket, folding it up and carrying it with him as he returned. In the haste of trying to escape Autumn, he’d omitted to do that earlier.

“I see,” Autumn said. “Well, I apologize for having suspected you.”

“And I apologize for my rudeness. I was intensely preoccupied just now, with this, and with the plans for the festival, and with the fact that my daughter on the mainland is rebelling against us and has dyed her hair orange. Yes, I have many worries right now. But guilt at causing a man’s death is not one of them.”

“I’m glad you had nothing to do with it,” she said. Wondering if she could push her luck further, she asked, “Do you know who might have done?”

He thought about that for a minute, tapping his gloved hand against the buggy’s gleaming wooden dashboard.

“He was a difficult man,” he said eventually. “When I tell you he had many enemies, that is the understatement, signora. He was hated by many, an unpleasant man who was also a shocking payer. But if I had to say…” He sighed thoughtfully. “His biggest rival was a woman.”

A woman? Autumn was eager to learn more. A woman could easily have created that scenario. Perhaps an angry woman had even brought a weapon along with her – a walking stick, or a big flashlight, and hit Trevor over the head to make sure of killing him.

“Lila Bean. I do not know if you know her?”

Autumn shook her head. “Who is she?”

“She’s a competitor of his from the mainland. They used to enter the coffee blending competitions every year, and there was very fierce rivalry between them. Lila did not win as often as Trevor. Unpleasant though he was, he had a knack for blending beans to create excellent brews.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “And I heard that Lila Bean was entering the Barista’s Blend competition at the festival tomorrow. There’s a lot riding on it, because she wants to start selling her blends countrywide, and this would give sales a big head start. Without Trevor there, I personally think her path to success would be guaranteed. And now, I must get going, or else, Biggles will get cold.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

After thanking Antonio again, Autumn scrambled out of the buggy, and began the chilly walk down the hill, back to the town hall. Behind her, Biggles’ retreating hoofbeats soon faded out of earshot. Her mind was preoccupied with what she’d learned.

Antonio’s innocence had come as a shock, but the tip-off about the rival blender was an even bigger shock to her. The Barista’s Blend competition was one of the highlights of the festival, and she’d heard that coffee shop owners from several nearby towns were going to enter it, each hoping that they could craft the perfect blend to appeal to the highly qualified judges.

Killing your opposition before the event might seem a little extreme, but Autumn reminded herself they were not seeking someone normal and balanced here. Furthermore, from what Antonio had said, it sounded as if Lila and Trevor had a long, bitter history of competition. Autumn was sure, based on Trevor’s personality, it had not been polite or gallant in any way. Trevor had been a nasty man. He’d bullied Willow, and he might well have bullied Lila too, gloating over her and bragging that he was the better blender, and would certainly win.

That provided an even stronger motive for what had played out.

Feeling as if she was on the right track now, Autumn headed into the town hall to find Ben. The last half hour had moved at lightning speed. She wondered if he'd gotten any leads. If so, they might be kept busy the rest of the day, although she did need to look into the bed and breakfast this evening to make sure all was well there.

Where was Ben? Walking in, she stopped, unwinding her scarf, because the packed crowds and the hall’s efficient heating were making it positively hot. And it was seething with people. There were visitors of all shapes and sizes, from elderly to teenagers, and even a few kids, who were lining up for Jasmine’s sweet treats.

There was Ben! She spotted him right at the back of the hall and headed that way purposefully. On seeing her, he immediately started weaving through the crowds himself.

They met in the middle, and Ben cupped his arm around her waist and drew her in for a hug, smiling into her eyes in a way that made Autumn’s heart feel very big and surprisingly warm.

“How did it go?” he asked her.

“Well, I cleared Trevor’s rival coffee shop owner, Antonio, who owns Lakeside Coffees.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because it’s my favorite of those two shops,” Ben admitted.

“Mine too. But in the process, Antonio gave me an important lead,” Autumn said.

“What’s that?”

“There’s a barista called Lila Bean, who has a coffee shop somewhere on the mainland, and she and Trevor are historic rivals. I’m talking bitter rivalry.”

“With Trevor, it doesn’t seem as if there’s any other kind,” Ben agreed.

“Lila is entering the blending competition tomorrow. They apparently have a history of going up against each other at these events, and Lila loses more often than she wins.”

Ben’s eyes lit up as he realized that this gave Lila a strong motive for murder.

"That makes sense. A historic, bitter conflict, and this competition has a really generous prize," he said. "There's a massive coffee hamper and a cash prize on top of it. So competition is fierce."

“He gloated, apparently,” Autumn said thoughtfully. “Having a gloating rival might have been too much for Lila to take. Maybe she even went to approach him before the competition, and he taunted her one time too many.”

She knew what these baristas were like. Antonio’s behavior had shown her that they were all temperamental, and obsessed by their brews. Passion was what it took to run a successful business, after all. Autumn knew that herself. She felt passionate about Harbor View, all the more so when it had one of its moments and strange things started going wrong.

“Well, that means we need to find Lila. I don’t have anything concrete myself yet, although I do have something to follow up later, so that’s our best lead. Do you know where she’s staying?”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t even know what she looks like. All I know is that she’s entered the competition tomorrow. And if she was the killer, then she will be here already.”

“Let’s get somewhere quieter,” Ben decided, as yet another passing group of people jostled Autumn’s shoulder.

They wove their way through the throngs, and out of the back of the town hall. There, they stood in a small sheltered courtyard. There were big clay pots set at intervals around it. During summer, these were bright with flowers, but now, they only contained muted greenery. At least they were out of the wind, though.

“Is there a list of competitors anywhere?”

“I guess there must be. But she’d only be checked off on that list when she arrived for the competition,” Autumn said thoughtfully.

“I’m going to look her up,” Ben decided. “Let’s get a picture of what she looks like.”

He opened his phone and Autumn craned in to see what he uncovered.

"Hmmm. Lila Bean is a second-generation barista. Her famous father, Bert Bean, started the chain of coffee shops, Bean Together. Lila is ambitious about taking the family business to greater heights. Her signature blends have won her praise and customers for years. 'I love the finer things in life,' Lila says, 'whether it's a great cup of coffee, a luxurious massage, or a fine glass of wine. Bean Together aims to combine the social aspect of coffee drinking, with a luxury experience at a market related price."

“So she likes the finer things in life?”

“Yes. And here’s her picture,” Ben said.

Autumn looked carefully at it. Lila was probably in her late thirties, immaculately groomed, with shiny brown hair and a thick gold chain glimmering around her neck.

“I get the impression, from this article, that she’s a wealthy woman,” Autumn said.

“Yes. I agree with that. She seems to have money and enjoy spending it.”

That wasn’t a bad thing to do, but Autumn warned herself Lila could also be a cold blooded killer who’d annihilated her opposition. She needed to keep a jaded view of her until her innocence was proven – or otherwise.

What was more important was what Lila's personality told them about her accommodation choices. Autumn realized, with a flash of insight, that this was what they should focus on.

“Ben, without a doubt, she’s going to choose one of the island’s most expensive hotels to stay in. That’s who she is, isn’t she?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. So, you’re the expert here. I know the Harbor Haven is very expensive?”

"Yes, it is. And it's close to her opposition. An easy walk away. But we should make a list of other possibilities, too."

With the help of her phone, to look up a few names, phone numbers, and seasonal prices, Autumn made her list.

“Harbor Haven, The Woods – that’s a terrifically expensive boutique spa near the forest – and Lakeside Vista. Those are where she’d stay if she wanted to pay the most money.”

"Personally, I'd say your bed and breakfast beats any of these, hands down," Ben said loyally. That made Autumn feel warm inside. Her earlier misgivings had blown away like wisps of mist on a summer's day. She felt embarrassed for even having thought that the situation was different – but that was what happened when you cared for someone. Things did get easily blown out of proportion and needed to be gotten back on an even keel.

“You’re too kind,” she smiled. “My old place has character, and a lovely view, but it can’t compete with The Woods in terms of huge glass windows, and seamless service, and organic snacks waiting on every polished wooden shelf. Not to mention Lakeside Vista’s front porch. It’s idyllic. I go there for lunch when I feel like treating myself. And Harbor Haven is so special. The rooms are enormous and there’s a massive claw footed bath, and a living area, and a window seat in every one of the rooms. Not to mention their original artwork.”

Ben was staring at her in amusement. “You’re very good at promoting the island in general, including your opposition,” he pointed out. “You would clearly not resort to murder in a situation like this. So, let’s see if we can find out where Lila is staying, to see if she did.”

“I’ll make the calls,” Autumn said. “They might not give the information out to a member of the public, sorry for calling you that when you’re a highly qualified vet. But they might give it to me if I can think of a good enough reason.”

She started out with the one that was top of her search list, which was Lakeside Vista. Would Lila be here? If she messed up the question by asking in the wrong way, she wouldn't get a second chance. And she had to be discreet, or else, word might filter back to the wrong ears. Officer Warring's, for instance.

Autumn dialed the number, feeling the pressure bearing down.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hello,” Autumn said as cheerfully as she could, when the hotel’s phone was answered. “It’s Autumn Ray here, from Harbor View. I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Hello, Autumn!” the receptionist replied. “How’s Max doing?”

She felt a whoosh of relief inside her at the sound of this woman's friendly voice. So far, it seemed that this phone call was set up for success.

"He's very well at the moment. We walk past your hotel often. I think it's one of his favorite routes."

“I often see you,” she replied. “So, how can I help you this afternoon?”

“I’m calling because I’m hoping to get in touch with a famous coffee barista who I understand is visiting the island for the festival. I’d love to have a chat with her about some new brews to use in my bed and breakfast,” Autumn said. It wasn’t really a lie. She was always open to new, delightful coffee blends.

“We do have a few people staying here for the festival. What’s the barista’s name?”

“Her name is Lila Bean.”

The receptionist giggled. “That’s a great name for a barista.”

“Yes, it is,” Autumn agreed.

“She’s not staying here, though. That’s a pity. I’d love to have a guest called Lila Bean. I hope you find her.”

“Thank you,” Autumn said.

Time to try the next of the three possibilities, Harbor Haven.

She dialed the number, conscious of time passing by, and that despite this courtyard being sheltered, it was getting cold out here. Her hands were freezing, and she hadn’t had time to put on her gloves. But these calls required privacy, and they couldn’t be done in the babble of the festival hall itself.

“Harbor Haven?” This receptionist was more reserved. Autumn sensed it instantly. Her voice wasn’t familiar, and she had no idea who she was.

She introduced herself all the same, and tried the same story as she’d done previously. This time, though, it wasn’t so well accepted.

“Well, you know, guest privacy comes first,” the receptionist said rather huffily.

“Absolutely!” Autumn agreed, feeling her palms start to sweat despite the cold. She didn’t want a failure, especially when Ben was listening. How could she manage to save the situation?

“I was just hoping to have a word with her as a potential customer,” she said.

“But can’t you speak to her at the show?” the receptionist asked.

Despite the resistance she was getting, Autumn was starting to figure out that from what the receptionist was saying, and more importantly, what she wasn’t saying, Lila might in fact be staying there.

“She’s not at the show,” Autumn tried sneakily.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll be there as soon as she’s finished her late lunch,” the receptionist said, clearly blissfully ignorant that she’d just divulged her guest’s whereabouts.

“Oh, that’s great to know. I’ll be sure to look out for her.”

Autumn hung up, and turned to Ben, feeling as if she should high-five him in her elation.

“I got an answer out of the receptionist. She’s definitely there, having a late lunch.”

“Then that’s where we need to be,” Ben said. “Shall we walk down? How long will it take?”

“Ten minutes if we’re quick,” Autumn decided.

She and Ben headed back, not going through the crowded festival hall this time, but taking the side route, through a narrow alleyway that led between two buildings, and to the front of the town hall.

Even alleyways on Magnolia Bay were just incapable of being very threatening, Autumn thought. This one had a few small sculptures placed at intervals along it, and it felt airy and safe, despite the darkening weather.

With the weather in mind, they walked fast, side by side, their arms brushing as they strode down the hill. They passed two buggies heading up, each carrying as many visitors as they were permitted to. The cooler weather was energizing the horses, who were trotting along, looking alert and interested.

“Okay. Left takes us to the Local Brew,” Autumn said, pausing a moment as she and Ben reached the crossroad, settling herself as she remembered her shocking experience earlier. “And right will take us to Harbor Haven.”

“Fancy a late lunch?” Ben asked.

“You know, I think I might,” Autumn quipped, glad that he was keeping things light, because nerves were gathering inside her. This could prove to be risky. There was no telling what Lila would do if she was accused of the crime. And as a hotelier and veterinarian, they didn’t want to anger a guest to the island. Discretion was definitely advised. Autumn wished she had a better idea of what to say.

As they reached the frontage of the white-painted hotel, Autumn took a moment to stand and admire it. The building, with its pillared porch and its gracious layout, was constructed in a colonial style, but in a grand and generous way. She loved every nook and cranny of the building, which contained a library, a magnificent upstairs bar, two different dining areas, and a small spa. And then, of course, there were the luxury suites.

Feeling excited at setting foot inside it, she stepped inside.

There were two places that Lila might be – the terrace dining room, with its big windows, or else, the more secluded upstairs dining room, with its roaring fire. Some trickery would be called for to work out where they needed to go.

“We’d like to have some lunch,” Ben said, as the receptionist nodded.

“Where would you like to dine?” she asked.

“Well, could we have a look at upstairs first?” Autumn said quickly. “We were thinking of the terrace, but you know, we’d like to have a peek in the upstairs room, too.”

“Of course,” the receptionist said. She was a lot friendlier now that they were standing in front of her, and she clearly didn’t recognize Autumn’s voice, now thinking of her as one half of a dining couple, and not the same weird woman who’d called earlier about a guest.

"I'll pay," Ben said quickly. "Do you want to go up and see if you'd like to sit there?"

Or, in other words, see if our target is there.

“I’ll do that,” Autumn beamed. The only problem was that she hadn’t wanted Ben to pay for this. It seemed unfair. She’d have to pay him back later. Now, though, there was no time to quibble over this. She rushed upstairs, keeping the picture of Lila firmly in her mind. The barista might look different. Her hair might have changed. She needed to keep those features in mind – her full lips, the rather arrogant angle of her brows.

Was she up there? Three tables were filled, and she couldn’t see all the people from the door. Casually, Autumn strolled across the room, admired the crackling fire for a moment, and then turned back.

Nope. She couldn’t see anyone even remotely similar to Lila. She must be downstairs.

Keeping her demeanor ultra relaxed, Autumn strolled back across the room, and hustled downstairs.

“Well,” she said to Ben, “it’s so difficult to decide, but I’m leaning toward the terrace. It’s so cozy up there, but that view is calling.”

“Let’s go to the terrace then,” he said. The receptionist called a waitress, who led the way down the hotel’s corridor. Walking in, Autumn felt surprisingly tense. She hoped she hadn’t missed Lila upstairs. What if something unforeseen had happened, like she’d had to rush off to the restroom?

There she was. As she walked in, her eyes were drawn to the gleaming hair of the woman sitting at the corner table with three other guests. She was facing the door, and Autumn distinctly saw her lift her head and regard the new arrivals with an assessing gaze.

“That’s her,” Autumn hissed, as they were shown to their table. As she walked around to take her seat, she managed to glance at the food that was at the table. It looked as if they were still having their starters. That gave her some time.

As they perused their menus, she and Ben conducted a conversation in breathy whispers, leaning forward to hear what the other had to say. Anyone watching probably thought they were the most loving couple. And she liked to think that love was on the horizon after that blip in the radar. Now, though, the priority was to save Willow.

“It looks like they’re still on starters,” she breathed.

“How can we get Lila on her own?” Ben whispered back.

Autumn had a plan. “If she’s having that long a lunch, surely she’ll need to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, that would probably happen,” Ben said.

“When she goes, I go,” Autumn said. “I’ll try to engage her in conversation without arousing her suspicions.”

At that moment, the waiter interrupted them.

“Wine, madam and sir?”

“I’d love a glass of red,” Autumn said. “Merlot, if you have it? Or else, cabernet sauvignon?”

“Sounds good. Make that two,” Ben agreed.

Since she was now facing away from Lila, though with a clear view of the restroom corridor, as well as the big picture window that overlooked the lake, Autumn couldn’t observe anything, and instead, applied herself to food decisions. The menu was sumptuous. Starters, main courses, and dessert all called to her, even though she knew it would be very greedy to go for all three. It would be far better to just have main course. Maybe she and Ben could share a dessert?

Although she wasn’t going to have starters, she would have been tempted by the shrimp cocktail, accompanied by chopped avocado. That was such an old school dessert, and you didn’t find it on many menus these days, but there was something about the sweet, flavorful sauce, the textures of the seafood, and the smooth richness of the avocado that she felt was a timeless combination.

But, putting her greed firmly aside, she turned her attention to the mains.

“The fresh caught river trout, with new potatoes, green peas and a mayonnaise dressing sounds divine,” she said.

“That caught my eye, too,” Ben said. “Then I moved on to the roast beef, roast potatoes, broccoli, carrots and gravy. Reminds me of the traditional Sunday roasts we used to go to at the restaurant down the road when I was a kid, and we had a special occasion to celebrate.”

"That roast looks spectacular. And have you seen the chicken curry?" Now, Autumn's mouth was watering, and her decisions were all over the place. She was veering from one choice to the other, taking a sip of wine to help guide her thought processes.

Perhaps it was the wine that gave her the inspiration she needed.

“It’ll be the river trout for me,” she said.

“And the roast beef for me,” Ben decided.

The waitress placed a bowl of crusty bread on the table, and Autumn took a piece, slathering fresh butter on it from the small round bowl.

“Any change in the dynamics?” she asked Ben in a low voice, her mind returning to the issue they had to conquer. This was not just a social lunch, much as she’d love it to be.

“There seems to be an argument brewing,” he murmured back, as Autumn’s eyes widened. She could hear raised voices behind her. Straining her ears and trying her hardest not to look around, she still heard the words ‘competition’, ‘win’ and ‘prize’ mentioned at top volume in a woman’s piercing voice.

“That’ll be Lila?” she whispered.

“Yes. The competition is being discussed,” Ben murmured back. “I’m not sure who she’s with, but I’d say it’s more of a business lunch. It looks kind of formal. Two men and one other woman, but the men are in business suits, and their body language is not what you’d expect from a family.”

“Maybe there’s more to this than just a competition?” Autumn guessed. “Maybe they’re planning a deal or a merger of some kind, and that makes this win even more important to her?”

“Yes, that could be. It would fit the circumstances.”

The angry moment had calmed down now. The conversation was muted once more. No more shouting to be overheard. Autumn took another sip of wine and crunched down on her bread. Crusty bread. Was there anything more delicious? And apart from needing to keep an eye out for Lila getting up and going to the bathroom, or anywhere else that Autumn could follow her, their time was their own.

“Is your guesthouse busy right now?”

That was a topic Autumn was always eager to discuss.

“Well, it’s busier than usual for the time of year. The coffee festival has only been going for a couple of years, but it’s brought so much business to the island. It’s wonderful what a difference it’s made. Because, let me warn you, this place gets cold in winter. Colder than the mainland, in my opinion.”

“So one must stock up on coffee and hot drinks in preparation?” A smile hovered over Ben’s face as he took another drink of his wine. “I really appreciate the gift of the season ticket for the festival, by the way. Thank you again.”

“I’m glad you’ll use it to its fullest. Stocking up on coffee is essential. Also, on wood.”

“Wood?”

“The island’s forests are mostly protected, and I try to get wood from sustainable sources on the mainland. Guests worry about that kind of thing, you know. They always ask.”

“It’s good to be concerned that way,” Ben said. “And I’ll get your contact for the wood. I like it when people are informed and concerned. A lot of vets despair that their clients always look up their pets’ symptoms and treatments online, but I’m all for it.”

“It must take a lot of research to stay ahead of that,” Autumn said, as Ben nodded.

"Yes. I sometimes wish I had another few hours in the day just to look up all the latest advances. Luckily, I subscribe to a few very good newsletters that summarize them. But there are also the clients who want treatments or remedies that are too left-field, and then I have to guide them away. Ethically, I at least have to warn them if they do something that might have adverse consequences."

“That must be a fine balancing act,” Autumn said, reaching for another slice of bread. She didn’t want to spoil her appetite for her main course, but it was proving impossible to stop eating this bread.

“It can be difficult,” Ben admitted.

Then, Autumn’s eyes lit up. From the corridor leading to the kitchen, she saw a waitress heading inside, with two plates, covered by silver salvers. This must be their food. She was starving, and couldn’t wait to see the salvers removed, and their dishes unveiled.

And, at exactly that moment, Ben’s head jerked up, and Autumn heard quick, purposeful footsteps thudding across the carpet from behind her.

In consternation, she stared his way, to see Lila Bean, making her way purposefully toward the restroom corridor.

This was Autumn’s only chance. It had come at exactly the wrong time, but if she didn’t seize it now, she might never get another.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Oh, what terrible timing.” Autumn smiled up at the waitress, hoping that her relaxed demeanor didn’t give away her internal tension. “I was just about to head to the restroom.”

“You want me to wait?” With her hand on the salver, the waitress looked dubiously at Autumn.

“No, please uncover my food. I won’t be long.”

That, she had no idea of. She might be long. It now all depended on Lila Bean, and from the empty plates she’d seen being ferried back to the kitchen, Lila had already eaten her main course.

Autumn might not get to her trout while it was hot, but she could at least devour the sight with her eyes.

The waitress removed the salver with a flourish, and the subtle aroma of trout, with a hint of lemon, and buttery potatoes, wafted out from the steaming plate.

“Oh, it looks wonderful,” Autumn said, admiring the way that the potatoes had been lightly sprinkled with parsley, making them even more mouthwatering to look at. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Giving Ben a conspiratorial glance, she pushed her chair back, stood up, and headed for the restroom.

The circumstances were not ideal. This was going to be like negotiating a knife edge in terms of timing, and she didn’t want Lila Bean getting suspicious. Already, the barista had shown her temper was quick to flare. If Autumn triggered it, there’d be no predicting what she might do.

The corridor where the restrooms were located was so thickly carpeted it felt like walking on a cloud. At the end, a gold figure on the white painted door, with a sweeping skirt, indicated which way the ladies’ room was. The men’s door had a figure in a top hat and a tailcoat.

Autumn pushed open the door and headed in. All the stalls were closed. She waited, pacing up and down, washing her hands for something to do, and checking her lipstick in the mirror. It was mostly worn off, but that wasn't surprising after the day she'd had.

Then, the door of the first stall opened, and Lila walked out.

Up close, she was an imposing figure, taller than Autumn had expected her to be. She had an arrogant demeanor about her, as if she was used to her word being law. She barely glanced at Autumn as she marched over to the basins.

Up to Autumn, then, to guide this conversation where she wanted it to go. The bread was churning inside her. She’d had so much caffeine that the wine didn’t appear to be having any effect as yet.

“Oh, goodness!” she said, staring at Lila as she began washing her hands. She let out a giggle that she hoped, for now, sounded more nervous fan girl than scared to death amateur investigator. “Are you the champion barista? I heard you were going to be at the festival. I love your coffee shops.”

Well, she did love them. They looked amazing, from the website. The fact she hadn’t yet been to any of them was completely beside the point.

Lila stared at her from the mirror. Autumn could see that pride at the praise was warring with a natural suspicion and impatience.

“I’ve won a few competitions, yes. Lost a few others.” A scowl darkened Lila’s pretty face as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Luckily for Autumn, her hair didn’t seem to be to her liking. She spent some time arranging the waves, staring at them, and then rearranging them. At least that gave Autumn more time to get into a conversation.

“Are you taking part in the blending competition tomorrow?”

“Well, of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“How do you think it’ll play out? I heard you were tipped to win.”

“Tipped to win? Who told you that?” Lila asked. Now, she was looking at Autumn with more interest, but Autumn didn’t know if that was good or bad. Did Lila believe her? Or did she think it was a bit odd for Autumn to be engaging in such enthusiastic conversation while they were in the middle of the ladies’ restroom?

"I heard it from one of the organizers," Autumn said. Now, she felt uneasy. She was being backed into a corner here and forced to lie. If Lila's next question was 'Which organizer, they're all personal friends of mine', then Autumn would be sunk.

Luckily, that wasn’t Lila’s next question. In fact, the mention of the competition seemed to have gotten her in a moodier mindset.

“I hate it when people place expectations on me,” she complained. “It only puts the pressure on. Yes, my blends are good, but it all depends on what the judges are looking for.”

“And what do you think they are looking for this time?”

She considered those words, tapping her fingers on the sink.

Then, with a quizzical frown, she turned to Autumn. The rhythm of this conversation had been abruptly stopped. She was staring at her with suspicion in her eyes.

“Why are you asking me these questions?” she challenged her.

“Just out of interest, really,” Autumn said. “I’m a local here, and I –”

“I don’t believe you.” Lila stopped surveying her reflection and instead, she swung around to face Autumn. “I think you’re asking for a different reason. And I’m sure I know what it is.”

Autumn swallowed hard. This had been going so well until it hadn't. Now, she was in a tricky situation. There hadn't been an easy way to do this. Approaching someone in the ladies' restroom was always going to be fraught with risk, because not only were you striking up a conversation with a stranger, but you also had a tight time limit on proceedings. Even now, Lila was glancing at the door.

“What do you think it is?” Autumn asked, trying for a tone of hurt confusion.

Now, with a look of menace in her eyes, Lila stepped toward her.

“I may be wrong, of course, but when people approach me like this, out of the blue, it usually means they’re trying to spy on me. My guess is that you’re looking to find out what I’m planning to blend. It’s happened before, and it cost me the competition. Are you in Trevor Brewster’s team?”

Autumn couldn’t help it. The shock mention of the murdered man’s name made her jump, and Lila saw her reaction.

“See? Look, you flinch like a guilty person when I even say his name. I knew you had an agenda. People don’t come up to me out of nowhere and praise my coffee. My hair, yes,” she admitted, giving one final glance into the mirror.

“Your hair is truly beautiful,” Autumn said, knowing that it was too little, too late with this compliment. Even so, Lila tossed her shiny locks back in a proud way, before the sour expression settled on her face again.

“You go and tell Trevor that he’ll have to try harder if he wants to figure out my recipe. Sending spies into the ladies’ restroom isn’t going to do it.”

“Um, wait! Wait, what?” Startled, Autumn realized that what Lila had just said was putting everything in a different light.

It sounded as if Lila believed her competitor to be very much alive, in just the same way Antonio had done. So alive, that she suspected him of sending spies.

“I’m definitely not on Trevor’s side,” Autumn said. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” Deciding on a sneaky question to try to establish Lila’s whereabouts at the time of the crime, she then said, “Have you seen Trevor at all today?”

“No, I haven’t. And when I do see him, I’m going to walk straight up to him and tell him what I think of his underhanded ways. I’m not convinced he doesn’t copy blends.”

Seeing he copied coffee specials, Autumn acknowledged this was not only possible but likely. Lila hadn’t finished her diatribe, though.

“I would have told him already, but I’ve only just gotten here, since I missed the earlier ferry and had to wait. Now, I’m finally having lunch with three important people who are keen on franchising my coffee shops in other states. So if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do than listen to someone trying to get my recipes out of me.”

With a superior sneer, she turned away and strode out of the restroom, leaving Autumn to sag against the sink, feeling frazzled. That hadn’t gone as expected. She hadn’t been able to build a relationship of trust and understanding with Lila, and it was hurtful to think that the coffee shop owner had walked away with the wrong impression of her.

At any rate, the fact that Lila didn’t like her was secondary to the fact that Lila couldn’t be the killer. She’d missed the earlier ferry, she’d only recently arrived on the island, and she clearly thought that Trevor Brewster was still alive.

Unexpected as it was, she was going to cross Lila off the list of suspects.

That meant there was nobody left on the list, which was concerning. Forensics and police were unanimous that this had not been an accidental death because of the lack of oil on the soles of his shoes. Someone was getting away with murder, and from what Autumn knew of crime investigation, time was always on the criminal’s side, and the chances of finding a killer dropped with every hour that passed.

Had the killer already left via ferry?

It was a possibility, but since the coffee festival had started that morning, it made sense that the killer would be attending it. If so, they could be deciding to sit tight, play it cool, and leave when the festival was over. If they’d arranged a meeting with Trevor, that would be why his phone was missing. The killer would have stolen it to cover up the arrangement.

The competition announcements were scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and after that, people would be packing up.

Feeling worried, Autumn returned to the dining room. There, Ben was waiting politely for her, his own food untouched, although he had ordered them each a refill of wine.

Trying not to meet Lila’s gaze, because this was now a potentially embarrassing situation, she slunk back to her seat.

“How did it go?” Ben asked.

“Not as well as I’d hoped,” Autumn had to confess. “She thinks Trevor Brewster is still alive, and she wasn’t even in town at the time of the crime. She missed the earlier ferry.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Worse still, she now thinks I’m a coffee spy.” Autumn picked up her fork, uneasily feeling as if Lila’s critical gaze was drilling into her back. The last thing she needed was for Lila to publicly accuse her of this. That would make everything extremely complicated. “So, I’m just going to keep my head down,” she explained.

“A coffee spy?”

“It just turned out that way,” Autumn said, cutting one of the perfectly cooked new potatoes. Steam wisped out. Happily, her food was still hot enough that if she put a little butter on these potatoes, it would melt. There was some left in the dish. It seemed worth doing.

"I think that was very brave and resourceful of you," Ben said, his voice full of admiration. "That can't have been easy, especially in such a limited time. So what if she thinks you're a coffee spy? If she tells anyone else, they'll think she's got the wrong end of the stick and is being paranoid."

“I think she is a little paranoid,” Autumn murmured, spearing a tender piece of trout. “And she’s fiercely competitive. She wants to win this at all costs.”

“Sounds like she had the perfect motive, but not the opportunity,” Ben said, eating a chunk of roast beef smeared with gravy. “This food’s excellent. Lunch with you? I have to say, so far, this investigation has its high points.”

Autumn smiled, feeling lucky all over again that she was actually dating – officially dating – a man who was so charming and generous with his compliments.

“Lunch with you was worth every excruciating second in that restroom,” she said wryly. Now it was Ben’s turn to look pleased.

“The problem is,” Autumn said, steering the conversation back to the important matter at hand, “we now have no further suspects.”

Ben nodded. “Yes. However, I did get a hint of something troubling, while I was asking questions earlier. It was very vague, whereas yours was a clear lead.”

Vague, at this stage, was better than nonexistent. A vague lead might develop into a strong one if they pursued it.

“What is it?” Autumn asked.

“The person who told me was actually Fenella Bailey, the organizer of the competition. She has two kittens, so I know her well. They’ve just been in for their shots and to be microchipped. I went and did the coffee tasting, and had a chat to her afterward, thinking she might know something useful.”

“How did you find the coffee tasting?” Autumn asked.

“Confusing,” Ben admitted. “I think I got a couple right, because I enjoy tasting different coffees myself, when I have my morning cup. But some of them were difficult to pinpoint, and I found that once I’d had a few tastes, I started feeling jittery.”

“That’s what happened to me, too,” Autumn said with a snort of laughter. “But what did Fenella tell you?”

“She said that Trevor had a silent partner in his business,” Ben said.

“A silent partner?”

“Yes, apparently he started the business with the help of investment from this man, who’s a coffee enthusiast. They had big plans for taking it statewide. Fen remembers Trevor bragging about it when he first opened his doors. But when she asked him about it just a few days ago, Trevor didn’t have much to say, and when she pushed him further, she said it sounded as if the relationship had suddenly soured. She wasn’t even sure if they were still partners, from what he said.”

“That could be significant,” Autumn agreed.

“The problem is that Fenella can’t for the life of her remember his name,” Ben said. “However, she did say that he would be at the cocktail event tonight, which she’s helping organize, and that once she saw the guest list, she was sure the name would come to her.”

“The cocktail event?”

“Yes. Coffee-themed cocktails and canapes. Seeing as how this could be important, I decided to put us on the list,” Ben said. “It sounds as if all the major suppliers, exhibitors and VIPs will be there, so it’ll be a chance to ask a few discreet questions. If you’re keen to go, then I’d love you to accompany me. We can have cocktails, canapes, and search for a killer – all at the same time.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Orchestral music filled the air as Autumn approached the town hall’s function room, hand in hand with Ben.

Strings of fairy lights twinkled outside, giving the place an enchanting feel. More lights were criss-crossed inside, for a glittering and sophisticated effect. The elegant music, she noticed, had a distinct salsa flavor to it. Maybe that was in homage to the great coffee producers of South America. Waiters in bowties at the hall’s entrance held trays of canapes and interesting looking layered cocktails, topped with coffee beans.

This was going to be a fun evening. She could already feel the festive vibes filling the air, and had to sternly remind herself that she and Ben were there to find the killer and to clear Willow’s name.

They were not here to dance and party the night away, but to track down the angry, estranged business partner whose relationship with Trevor Brewster had soured shortly before his death.

“Cocktail?” The waiter offered her the tray.

“What’s in it?” Autumn asked. These were very pretty – deep coffee in color, with a fresh, light, foamy topping.

“Espresso martini,” the waiter said. “Fresh brewed espresso, coffee liqueur, and a touch of brown sugar. I believe the barman added a dash of cream to finish it off, and to make sure the coffee beans sit well on top.”

"It sounds delicious," Autumn said. She handed one to Ben before taking one for herself and sipping it. Mmm. Delicious was the word. It was strongly caffeinated, but equally alcoholic. Maybe the two would balance out? Even so, she didn't think it would be wise to have more than one. Not when she needed to be able to think clearly in the next few hours.

There were some non-caffeinated snacks on the other tray. Taking a crostini piled with smoked salmon and cream cheese, Autumn felt guilty, as if she was being greedy after her delicious lunch. Then, she reminded herself she had spent the rest of the afternoon tidying, cleaning, and attending to a few guest queries back at Harbor View. She’d even taken Max for a quick early evening walk before getting into the shower and picking out her dress.

She'd seen the admiration in Ben's eyes as he took in the long sleeved, form fitting black dress, with a glittery section around the plunging neckline. Actually, she'd been ogling him in his well-cut dinner jacket, admiring the way it perfectly molded to his broad shoulders.

Work! Autumn sternly reminded herself about the matter at hand, as she savored the delightfully tasty crostini. This was now a time for her to mingle, identify the business partner, and also ask questions that might give them more insight into the killer.

“There’s Fenella Bailey!” Ben’s hand tightened on hers as he saw the source of information they needed. Fenella was standing at the far end of the town hall’s function room, wearing a bright green gown, with her deep red hair piled up on her head.

"Can you get out a few more trays of canapes?" she called to one of the waiters as Ben and Autumn approached her. "We've got a whole lot of guests arriving, and they're proving very popular!"

“I’ll do that,” the waiter replied.

Looking harassed, Fenella swung around to see Autumn and Ben.

“Oh, good evening. How are you, Autumn? And Dr. Hartley, how good to see you here. The kittens are well after their shots. In fact, they might even be a little too energetic. I had to peel them both off the curtains several times today.”

“Glad to hear they’re full of mischief,” Ben smiled, as Autumn wished Fenella a good evening, shaking her hand.

Fenella’s face then changed, frowning thoughtfully.

“Wait a minute. You asked me a favor earlier, and I’ve just realized I haven’t had time to find out a thing for you. It was to do with that partnership, wasn’t it?” She lowered her voice as another couple walked by, heading for the bar area at the back of the function room. “I’ll take a look now. As soon as I’ve organized these trays. I’ll come and find you.”

Giving Ben a conspiratorial nod, she hurried away, walking with some difficulty in her high-heeled, emerald green boots.

“She has a lot on her plate,” Ben acknowledged. “I can see why she hasn’t had time to find this out so far.”

“Yes, we must be patient,” Autumn agreed. “We’re here for the evening, and it’s only getting fuller and busier, so why don’t we circulate now, and find out more about who’s who?”

“I hate to suggest this,” Ben said, “but the place is getting very full, and there are a lot of people here I’ve never seen before. It might be an idea for us to split up? It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’ll allow us to speak to more people, quicker.”

Autumn nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was to wrench herself away from Ben's company, but he was right. There was a lot to do, and they needed to meet and speak to as many people as possible. This was a world of coffee purveyors, experts and baristas that they knew nothing about. And they needed to learn fast. After all, Willow’s stress levels, and even her future, might depend on it.

Autumn turned away and headed to where some snacks had been set out on a side table. This would be a good place to meet people. People always congregated around the snacks, didn’t they?

Sure enough, a solid looking man in a bowtie that looked too tight for his fleshy neck, was engaged in animated conversation with a woman in a cream colored, flounced ballgown.

Since there was already a level of ambient noise, the two were talking loudly. It was easy for Autumn to hover nearby, surveying the snacks, and to listen in.

“Really, I’m finding such a warm reception here on this lovely island,” the woman said with a smile in her voice, even though Autumn was discreetly looking at the rows of chicken puffs, and not actually watching her while she spoke.

“I’m finding the same, you know. I feel that this island represents a very strong untapped market,” the man observed.

“Untapped?” There was amusement in the woman’s voice as she spoke. “Good heavens, Mr. Carter, you’re moving more slowly than I gave you credit for. But that’s okay.” Sweet though her voice was, there was a bite to it, and Autumn now realized, listening to this conversation, that these two people were not friends. In fact, they were fierce competitors.

“And what makes you think I haven’t already made my own connections, Emily?” Carter said, with irritation flaring in his voice. “I happen to have a very good team backing me up, and we offer superb after-sales service, and when it comes to cornering the market, I can promise you, we’ve got it nailed down. I’m not coming here as a stranger. More like a trusted connection.” He chuckled. “Hope you don’t find it too difficult to make some inroads. It would be a shame if there was none of the market left for you at all.”

“Oh, I think that’s unlikely,” Emily said, but she sounded as if she was seething. “But you’d better be aware that I’ll be on the lookout for any underhanded tactics.”

“As will I. And I won’t accept anything of that nature,” he warned.

“I’d better go. Just seen one of my customers walking in.”

“As have I, through the side entrance,” the fleshy-faced Carter insisted, not to be outdone.

Carter. That was the manufacturer of one of the coffees in Willow’s shop, Autumn remembered. Her sister had mentioned him. Or had Carter been the one she’d turned down, who’d wanted exclusivity? She couldn’t remember now, although her general impression was that they were all fiercely competitive.

The two of them parted ways and headed in opposite directions, with Autumn discreetly remaining in place, now looking at the small mozzarella balls, with cherry tomatoes and basil leaves on sticks.

Those were just two out of how many competing brands who would be here? There were so many friction points it already seemed like a daunting task, simply to identify who hated whom the most.

She looked around, seeing that the woman, Emily, had in fact gone over to welcome someone Autumn recognized, the owner of one of the island’s family restaurants. Clearly, her coffee – whichever one it was – already had a foothold in that establishment.

Carter, however, hadn’t actually been telling the truth when he said he’d spotted one of his customers. He wasn’t greeting anyone. Instead, he’d headed in the direction of the bar.

That was where she was going to go too, Autumn decided. Maybe she could intersect with him, and find out what he knew.

Weaving her way through dinner jacketed men, and women in glittering gowns, she realized that Carter had disappeared. However, there was an open seat next to another man she hadn’t seen before. He had crimson cheeks, a thick neck, and dark hair slicked back with gel. She arrived at the bar just as his order – an amber liquid that she suspected was a strong bourbon whisky, was placed on the counter.

“Good evening,” she said to him in a friendly way. “I’m Autumn Ray.”

“Evening. I’m Joe Peregrine.” The man’s broad face had a genial glow to it, and his voice was pleasant. He shook Autumn’s hand, and then raised his own to his bowtie, as if also thinking it was a little too tight. Pulling at it, he took in a deep breath, then reluctantly set it back again.

“Are you a local businesswoman by any chance?” Carter asked her, an avid gleam in his eye.

"Yes, I am," Autumn said. "I run a small bed and breakfast called Harbor View."

“Harbor View? Now, I’ve heard of that place. I took a buggy ride around the island earlier. It was freezing cold, but very scenic. You’re in the old stone house, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct,” Autumn said, impressed by his observation skills.

"One of the best locations on the island, I'm sure," he said. "And who's your coffee supplier?" He asked the question in a lighthearted way, but she could see the intensity in his gaze. This was a sale to be made right here.

“I use a few different brands,” she said. “Actually, I took advice a while ago from Trevor Brewster. He had some interesting coffees in his shop, and I have been wanting to branch out into a few of those. Do you know him?”

His gaze narrowed. He was staring at her with more interest now.

“Actually, my brand, Joe’s Fine Coffees, has been gaining a lot of popularity on the island. But not yet with this Mr. Brewster. I don’t in fact know him. What’s his shop’s name?”

“It’s called The Local Brew,” Autumn said.

“Ah, is it now? I’ve heard of that shop. I was hoping to get a meeting with Mr. Brewster, only he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

Well, he wasn’t going to answer them. He was dead. But Autumn decided not to tell him the bad news. It was clear that he didn’t know Trevor Brewster, and if he didn’t know Trevor, then he also didn’t know his silent partner.

“I hope you have a very productive festival, and I’d love to hear more about your coffees myself,” Autumn said. To avoid him telling her there and then, she dug in her purse for a business card and handed it to him.

“There you go,” she said. “Call me sometime in the week. My bed and breakfast is quite small.”

That would ensure he didn’t pester her, she hoped. Keen as she was to find out more about the variety of coffees out there, she also wanted to manage his expectations. There were bigger fish for him to catch at the festival.

She moved on, gravitating toward duo of men – one in a business suit, and one in jeans and a chunky red sweater, who were talking earnestly together. Would it be possible to eavesdrop on this conversation as well? Autumn sidled closer.

"You know, as a member of the Mascolo family, who've been importing coffee for decades, I'm extremely proud of our beans. But that's not the reason why I'm wanting to have a meeting with you." The business-suited man was speaking in surprisingly soft tones. "The real reason is that I can offer you the best deal on them that the island has ever seen."

“Well, we do get through a lot of coffee in our restaurant and pizzeria chain, Mr. Mascolo,” the other man said. “I’d be interested to hear about your pricing, provided the product is quality.”

“Top quality. The best you’ll see, trust me. I’ll show you our list. We have a very special price sheet available to those who agree to use us exclusively.”

"Well, let's see your pricing," the man in the sweater replied, sounding less than convinced about the offer. Autumn thought that was wise of him. It sounded to her as if Mr. Mascolo was trying to tie him into a contract that might limit him. She wouldn't have agreed to such a thing – but then, she was only the proprietor of one small, humble, seven-room bed and breakfast. This man's restaurant and pizzeria was a chain. Neither of them were locals. They'd come here to do the deal. That showed her the scope of the visitors that the coffee festival was attracting and she had to admit, she was impressed.

It wasn’t helping her find the silent partner, though.

She put her glass down on the counter as she stared around, looking for other people to eavesdrop on. And a moment later, she saw Ben hurrying toward her through the well dressed throng. He looked excited as she turned to meet him.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said, as soon as he reached her.

“What’s the good news?” Autumn asked, worried that there was also bad news, but deciding it was more important to look at the positives first.

“The good news is that I’ve found Trevor Brewster’s silent partner. And, if my observation is correct, he’s here.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Who is he? Where is he?” Gazing around the hall in excitement, Autumn felt hopeful that this mystery might soon be solved, and the killer caught.

“He’s over there.” Ben pointed to the far end of the function room, where a big group of guests was gathering. “His name is Marcus Granger. That’s what Fenella told me, anyway. Marcus Granger, blond hair, spiky beard, and an expressive way about him. Based on all of that, it has to be him.”

Autumn’s gaze followed his pointing finger, landing on a tall man, who was gesticulating in a confident way, while speaking to a woman in a shimmering, dark blue evening gown. His grandiose gesture toppled two glasses from the tray of champagne flutes that a nearby waiter was holding. The waiter had clearly seen this coming at the last possible moment, but hadn’t gotten his tray out of the way in time.

The glasses crashed to the ground, causing the woman to flinch and a few other guests to scatter. Marcus barely noticed. Whatever he was talking about, it was far too important to be paused because of a mere breakage.

“We need to get over there.” Turning around, Autumn picked up her glass again, realizing she had barely touched it. Telling herself she mustn’t waste the drink, she took another sip. Alcoholic though it was, it was pleasant tasting. “But what’s the bad news?”

“I don’t know how this has happened.” Ben’s voice dropped. A frown creased his forehead. “But when Fenella told me about Marcus, she also asked me about you.”

“What about me?” Autumn said, anxiety knotting inside her, because from Ben’s tone, this didn’t sound good.

“She said that she’d heard someone talking about the fact you seemed to be asking questions about Trevor Brewster’s death.”

“How did she know that?” Autumn asked in concern.

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone must have guessed, or seen, and told someone else, and now the word is spreading like wildfire.”

"I don't want people to know," Autumn shook her head in consternation. "The more people that know, the more likely it is that Officer Warring will find out that I've been asking questions, and then he'll be mad and stop me, and then I can’t help Willow.”

“I know. It’s very concerning,” Ben said. “I think that once we’ve spoken to Marcus, it might be a good idea to leave this event. Fenella said that Officer Warring called her a few minutes ago and said that he and an assistant policeman needed guest passes. So he’s coming – soon.”

“That means we have to wrap things up even sooner,” Autumn said.

Turning in Marcus’s direction, she wended her way through the crowd, with Ben alongside. Marcus had a booming voice, and it carried around the room, as two waiters rushed forward to sweep up the broken glass and mop the spilled champagne that he’d caused earlier.

Now, Autumn was close enough to hear what he was actually saying.

"I'm all in favor of fresh starts, you know, my dear," Marcus expounded to the woman in the glittery blue dress, nodding his bristly, blond chin as he spoke. "Sometimes, new beginnings are the best beginnings. You can ask me that. I'm something of an expert," he added in knowing tones. "Sometimes you choose them, and sometimes they're all but inevitable."

Tones that chilled Autumn’s blood as she sipped her drink again. Was he actually referring to his partner’s death? If so, had he purposely orchestrated the ‘inevitable’ that he was mentioning in such a bright and breezy way?

How was she going to get the truth out of him? At this stage, it looked like any conversation at all was going to come with a serious risk of breakage.

Another waiter ducked aside, as Marcus made another sweeping gesture with his arm. Champagne sloshed out, foaming on the tray as the glasses wobbled, but luckily, the waiter managed to keep them balanced, and avoid them actually falling over.

Now seemed like a good time to approach him, because the woman he was talking to had been distracted by that near-miss, rushing forward to grab one of the glasses for herself.

She didn’t recognize this man at all, and hadn’t seen him on the island. Her guess was that he was from the mainland, more of an investor than a hands-on partner. But why was he here now? Had he deliberately killed his partner when he saw the relationship was going sour? Did he intend to take over The Local Brew – even though he wasn’t a local, and keep it running?

She had so many questions, and it was time to get the answers. Autumn managed to orchestrate a quick jostle of his shoulder as he turned in the direction of the bar.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“No problem, my dear, no problem.” He was clearly the kind of person who called everyone ‘my dear’. Autumn guessed that might mean he was bad with names.

“I’m Autumn Ray, owner of Harbor View,” she told him anyway. “And this is Ben Hartley, who’s the local vet. Perhaps you know him?”

“I am Marcus Granger, and I unfortunately don’t own any animals,” he said. “I do love cats, but I’ve had a few house moves recently, and planned to get a cat when I’d settled down. Perhaps once all my furniture’s in place, I can think about that. It seems that everyone on this island owns a pet. Funny, I don’t recall it being like that a year ago.”

With a flicker of amusement, Autumn realized that, killer or not, Marcus had just identified a key trend among the locals. She didn’t think Ben was aware of it. He had no idea that he was the draw card, and she wasn't going to enlighten him in case he was embarrassed when dealing with all the enthusiastic new pet owners.

“Yes, it is definitely a trend these days to adopt animals,” she said briskly. “But that must mean you’ve moved to the island yourself?”

“It’s a very recent move. I wanted to be more hands-on in the running of my business,” he said, causing all Autumn’s suspicions to be on high alert.

“What business is that?” Ben asked.

“I co-own a coffee shop, and I am planning to expand,” he said proudly. “At any rate, until recently, I co-owned it. Now, I guess I’m going to be the sole owner, which is tragic yet fortunate, considering the exciting changes I’m going to be making.”

“Which shop do you own?” Autumn asked. She felt strangely short of breath, and her heart was pounding. She knew the answer, of course, but now she needed him to say it.

“I own The Local Brew. You’ve probably been there.”

She’d expected him to look triumphant, but instead, his face seemed glum.

“The Local Brew? Yes, I know it well.” Autumn took another sip of her drink. Was it more bitter than it had been when she’d started drinking it? It tasted rather weird. Maybe the sugar in the cocktail had all gone to the top, and the bottom tasted different?

"It's been a terrible shock to me to hear about the death of my partner."

"Were you and he getting on well at the time?" Autumn got the question out in a rather slurred voice. She was feeling very strange. Her heart was pounding, but she was having difficulty in keeping her eyes open. And why was she sounding so strange? Had she forgotten how to talk? It wasn't just her because she saw Ben give her a worried look.

“No, I must admit, we were not.” But to her surprise, Marcus sounded genuinely sad about this. “We were not getting on well at all, and I blame myself.”

“You do?” Ben asked, putting an arm around Autumn as she leaned against him. Why was the room spinning in such a strange way?

She looked at her glass. Gosh, she'd nearly dropped and spilled it. Maybe it would be better to just finish it so she could put the glass down?

Autumn raised the glass to her lips, but at that moment, a large, beefy arm knocked her off balance. Instead of drinking the drink, some of it spilled onto her chin and her dress.

“Oh, excuse me,” Marcus said. “I have this terrible habit of talking with my hands.”

“Let me take your glass,” Ben said, as Autumn tried to use her sleeve to mop up the sticky, coffee-smelling drink residue. With Ben holding her glass, it was easier, but not by that much. She seemed to have lost all her coordination. What on earth was wrong? Maybe that cocktail had been stronger than she’d thought.

“So you blame yourself?” she asked.

Focus on what he's saying! Why were her eyes wanting to swoop closed? It wasn't as if this was a boring conversation. And it was only about eight p.m., Far too early for her to be tired.

Autumn had the unsettling feeling that she wasn’t thinking straight, and the even more disturbing certainty that she no longer knew what ‘straight’ was. There seemed to be no other option than to focus carefully on Marcus, as he explained his predicament with his ex-partner.

"We wanted to choose such different paths forward," Marcus said. "Trevor seemed to think that because he was running the business hands-on, he should have full control over its running and not take any input from me. The problem was that I started realizing he wasn't running it well. I heard that he was cutting corners and that he wasn't paying his creditors on time. Also, he was making some business decisions without consulting me. I had no idea about some of the changes that were happening in the shop over the past couple of weeks. That was very disturbing. I had planned to speak to him after the festival and suggest buying him out. Now, he’s died, and I must say the way it happened, it’s going to be a serious setback to the business.”

He shrugged in an expressive way, causing two waiters and one guest to duck for cover. Autumn leaned against Ben harder, using every ounce of her will power to try to keep herself upright, and looking coherent.

“A setback?” Ben asked.

“Yes. You know, having a death like this, with us having had an acrimonious relationship, reflects badly on me. I was already interviewed by the police. Luckily they cleared me as I had an alibi for the time of the crime, but I can’t help feeling that it’s placed the business, and me, in a bad position with everyone living here.”

Autumn wanted to ask him what else he’d done, but the words wouldn’t come out. Now, she didn’t just lean against Ben, but actually sagged. Grabbing her, he stared at her in consternation.

“Autumn, you don’t look well. Are you okay?”

“Miss Ray! Something is wrong! She needs fresh air!” With one sweep of his hand, Marcus had cleared a path, and Ben was trying to walk her along it. But Autumn’s legs wouldn’t work anymore, and the entire hall was getting dark.

Had she been poisoned? That was her last, terrified thought, before her eyes drooped closed, and her consciousness slipped away.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

She was looking at a policeman. An upside down policeman? How was that possible? Blearily, as Autumn opened her eyes, her mind strove to understand this complicated situation.

A policeman? That must be – wait. It was Officer Warring!

The mists cleared enough for her to stammer out, "I wasn't really doing anything, officer!"

The words came out slurred, but recognizable. She was lying on one of the couches in the ante-room of the function hall. And as she frowned in puzzlement over how she’d gotten there, another head bent over her.

This one had a stethoscope around its neck. A paramedic? What was a paramedic doing here?

“Breathe in, please, Ms. Ray. Breathe out again.”

Well, what did he think she was going to do? Hold her breath on purpose? Autumn tried to make a joke out of it, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come. She was conscious of Ben, gripping her hand tightly.

Then, the mists of sleep descended again, and the world blacked out once more.

This time, when she woke up, she felt more coherent, and things were much, much brighter. Blinking in the harsh overhead light, listening to the beeping of a machine, Autumn realized to her astonishment that she was in the local clinic.

She felt a whole lot more coherent than she’d done earlier. Her mind felt as if it could work again, but even so, her main thoughts were puzzlement. What had happened?

“What am I doing here?” she croaked aloud. “And can I go home?” Why was her voice so scratchy and her throat sore? And she had a horrible taste in her mouth.

Footsteps sounded, and a doctor hurried over, staring down at her, and then glancing at the machine tracking her vitals.

“Ah, Ms. Ray. I’m glad you’re awake. You had a very lucky escape there.”

“I’m still trying to piece things together,” she said. She was wearing a hospital gown, and her throat felt sore and scratchy. She felt as if she’d been in the wars. The last memory she had was of sinking to the floor, and then that odd flash of the policeman’s upside down face.

“You lost consciousness at the event,” the doctor explained. “You were rushed here in an ambulance. We stomach pumped you immediately, and have been monitoring your vitals, but it appears you ingested a small amount of a powerful sedative.”

“A sedative? But I had a coffee cocktail,” Autumn explained, coughing. That wasn’t a good idea. Her stomach was sore. Stomach pumped? She’d thought that was only something that happened to other people in unfortunate situations. She’d never dreamed it would happen to her.

“Yes. Your partner, Mr. Hartley, was still holding the glass when you collapsed. He handed it over to the police, and it’s being forensically tested. My suspicion is that if you’d drunk it all, you’d be in a very bad way. However, your vitals were stable, and since Mr. Hartley said you’d barely sipped your drink, and we were able to remove the last traces of it from your system, it appears you avoided the worst.”

"I can't believe I was in this situation," Autumn said. "It feels like it should have happened to somebody else. I don't understand… oh, wait. There were a few minutes where I put my drink down on the counter and didn't watch it."

“Mr. Hartley was emphatic that someone had added something to your drink,” the doctor agreed.

“Because they knew!” Cold realization flooded Autumn. “They knew I was trying to find out about Trevor Brewster’s death!”

Word had gotten out. That had been the bad news that Ben had told her, just minutes before she'd taken one sip of her spiked drink. And someone had acted quickly once they'd heard that news. The killer knew who she was, even though she still had no idea of their identity. That was terrifying.

“I’m not sure of the ins and outs, but if you only took a sip of the drink, you had a lucky escape,” the doctor said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Autumn said, struggling into a sitting position. Was she okay? Her heart still felt as if it was beating rapidly, and her stomach was churning. But she didn’t feel like she was about to die. That had been the killer’s intention, she was sure. She should have drunk the spiked drink, and it should have caused her to collapse, and most likely stopped her heart – or else, made her seriously ill. Seriously ill enough that she stopped looking into this crime.

Of course, she must stop. That was the first fearful thought that went through Autumn's mind.  There'd be no shame in it. Everyone would understand. And now, clearly, Officer Warring knew that she'd been asking questions.

What had he said about getting into danger? He’d warned her, and she’d defied his warning, and she’d ended up exactly where he’d told her not to.

No, enough was enough. The fact that someone had attempted to murder her would hopefully show the officer that he’d been wrong about Willow committing the crime. Willow would not have tried to kill her sister. Knowing that, Officer Warring could widen his focus, and she felt utterly confident that the killer would soon be in his sights.

A tap on the door interrupted her rather incoherent thought processes. The door wasn’t fully closed, there was a glimpse of the corridor beyond, so the tap was more of a courtesy than a request.

And in came the man she’d just been thinking about – Officer Warring himself.

This time, at least, his face was the right way up. It was an improvement – sort of, although the lines of disapproval were easier to see.

“Evening, Ms. Ray,” he said. Then, he checked his watch. “Or rather, morning.”

Morning? It was the small hours already? She’d been out of it for longer than she’d thought, and her mind veered instantly to the bed and breakfast, and Max. Her business and her dog. Were they okay?

“Don’t worry,” the officer said kindly, as if reading her mind. “Jasmine asked me to tell you that she’s there, at Harbor View, and handling things.”

Relief flooded Autumn. Her assistant was pure gold. The fact that Autumn knew she would become a celebrity chef one day, if she kept pursuing her dreams, was sadder than she’d ever thought it would be. Where would she find anyone as loyal or resourceful? Jasmine must be sleeping in the small spare room behind the lobby, which she often did. And Autumn felt sure that Max would be curled up on the foot of the bed, enjoying the adventure.

“I’m so relieved about that,” she said. “I’m still not even sure what happened.”

“What we know is that there was a powerful tranquilizer added to your drink,” Warring told her. “It could easily have been deadly. You were lucky. I assume you put your drink down?”

That, Autumn remembered doing, and she had no idea who had been behind her at the time. Her focus had been on the room, not on her drink. Big mistake, as it turned out. The only thing she could say is that Marcus would not have had a chance to spike her drink. He’d been too far away from the moment she placed it on the counter and turned to meet Ben.

If she recalled, he’d also been cleared by the police. So the partner was not the killer, despite their conflicted relationship.

“I did,” she said. “I put it on a shelf for a while.”

“Do you remember who was around you at the time?”

Autumn crinkled her brow. “I don’t, not really. I was a bit preoccupied. And there were people all over the place. I’d already realized I didn’t know many of them at all. I wish I could be more helpful, but I can’t.”

“Well,” Warring said, “although it endangered you, and we need to have serious words about your respect for the police, now is not the time to do that. And in a way, you’ve helped us.”

“I have?” Guessing this was something to do with Willow, the officer’s next words confirmed it.

“We had your sister earmarked as a prime suspect. This attempt on your life has shown us that she was probably not the perpetrator. She wasn’t even at the cocktail function.”

“I’m glad you’re looking elsewhere for the killer.” Autumn felt at peace now. By nearly being killed, she’d managed to clear her sister. That was a best case scenario she’d never expected.

“So, given that we now have more evidence, we’ve appealed once again for help from the mainland. An officer will be arriving tomorrow. With the extra manpower, even though it’s the last day of the coffee festival, I feel sure we’ll have enough resources to hunt down this killer.”

“I hope so.”

For once, as Warring turned to leave, Autumn had the sense that they were in tenuous agreement. She was actually obeying police instructions. And that was a good thing.

Then, just as she was letting out a sigh and relaxing back on the pillows, there was another tap on the door that got her jolting upright again.

Two more people walked in.

Ben and Willow approached her bed, both with intent faces. Willow looked like she’d seen a ghost. Ben looked vastly relieved to see her alive.

“Hello,” Autumn politely greeted her next round of unexpected guests. “It’s so kind of you both to be here!”

“Autumn!” Willow’s eyes were filled with tears. Her face looked like a tragic heroine’s, pale, elegant and drawn, as she clasped Autumn’s hand. “I can’t believe this happened. You were trying to help me, and someone killed you?”

“I know,” Autumn said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Ben had shimmied around the bed and was now gripping her other hand. “I was so worried. I am so relieved to see you looking better. When you collapsed, it felt like the most terrible moment of my life.”

“Thankfully, I survived,” Autumn said. “And I must say, it’s taught me a lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” Willow asked.

Autumn slumped back down on the bed, still gripping the hands of two people that she treasured.

“I guess this has taught me that there comes a time when I need to step back. I am very lucky to be alive, and thanks to this, Officer Warring is getting much more help from the mainland, and it’s time for me to let the police do their work.”

Ben was nodding supportively.

But to her concern, Willow had a different expression in her eyes. Autumn had seen that expression before. It was one that appeared when her sister was about to make a reckless decision that she refused to be derailed from.

“That’s all good.” Willow’s eyes gleamed like emeralds. “Because you need to step back and get out of my way. Nobody, and I mean nobody, tries to kill my sister and gets away with it. As of tomorrow, as soon as my shop’s closed up for the day, I’m going after this murderer. I will find him or her.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And I will make him or her live to regret it – for a while at least.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“It’s now an emergency situation,” Autumn admitted, stress simmering inside her as she and Ben walked out of the clinic, with the clock on the wall showing eight-thirty a.m. Watching the clock was scary when she thought that every second brought Willow closer to being in serious trouble.

“We need to reason with Willow. Surely we can do that?” Ben said hopefully.

The hospital had refused to release her last night, insisting on keeping her for observation. It was only now that she’d been cleared to go home. Ben had been there, with a buggy booked, and also with a change of clothes that Jasmine had packed, so she didn’t have to totter out of the hospital in her high heels and evening dress.

Now she was walking out in comfortable jeans, boots with a sheepskin lining, and a deep green down jacket that was one of her favorite winter staples.

“Reason with Willow?” Autumn rolled her eyes at the mere thought. She’d spent her entire life with Willow. She knew her sister better than anyone. There was no way, no way at all, that Willow would back down. Nobody was more stubborn than her younger sister, when she was set on a disastrous course of action. “That won’t be possible,” she explained.

Ben sighed as they headed over to the waiting buggy. “My brother is the same. If they’re twin souls, then I get you. But what are we going to do in that case? She’ll be putting herself in danger, Autumn. From the time she starts asking questions, whoever got to you is going to target her.”

“Yup,” Autumn said, climbing in. “But she won’t care about that. Willow can be recklessly brave, especially when she’s protecting her family. I think having lost our parents and our brother has made her even more protective of me.”

She felt so much better this morning. Those extra few hours of sleep in the hospital bed had cemented her recovery. Her throat was less sore, her head less achy, and she felt ready for whatever the day might bring, grim and cloudy as it was.

However, she had to admit she wasn’t in the mood for coffee. Today might end up being a herbal tea day. That would probably be wisest.

"Down to Harbor View please," she told the driver, a gray haired man that she knew fairly well. He was one of those that believed a quiet trip was a good trip. He wouldn't start a conversation, but right now, Autumn felt nervous about anyone listening. Who knew who the killer was, or how word might get back to them.

“On our way.” The driver clucked to the horse, who set off at an energetic trot, tossing its head, glad to be moving on this brisk, chilly morning.

“So, what are we going to do?” Ben murmured.

“There is only one solution I can think of,” Autumn said, keeping her voice low enough that the buggy driver couldn’t hear it, over the creaks of the wheels and chassis, and the clopping of hooves.

“And that is?” She and Ben were sitting close together, and Autumn slid her arm around his waist. His own wrapped around her shoulders. The physical contact felt reassuring, and more than that. It felt like a spark was there. Like she wanted to turn and kiss him, passionately, as they headed down the hillside. That was good, because Autumn had to admit, last night, the drugs she’d been fed had ruined the moment when Ben had chivalrously grabbed her as she’d slumped to the ground.

“We have to find the killer before Odds and Ends closes,” Autumn said.

“Before the shop closes? What time is that?”

“It closes at two p.m. on a Sunday,” Autumn said, her stomach twisting. That really didn’t give them much time. There were only a few hours. How could they possibly find an elusive killer in just a few hours?

“She won’t be able to get out of work any earlier?” Ben asked, sounding practical.

“No. She doesn’t have student help today.”

“And you? Aren’t you busy? Jasmine is going to be at her kiosk at the festival again.”

“She is,” Autumn said. “But all my guests are staying overnight tonight. I guess they wanted one last night on the island, and at the festival, before going home. I don’t have anyone checking out today, and the cleaner who helps me always works weekends. So even though I feel like I should be at Harbor View all day, the truth is that I can get out and investigate.”

“Right. Well, apart from emergency calls, my practice is closed today,” Ben said.

“That should give us time.” There was a narrow window they could use. Autumn was thinking of it as a window of hope, but it felt more like a window that would avert certain disaster.

“So, we’re going back to the festival?”

“We have to,” Autumn said.

“Are you sure you feel ready for this? You should rest today.”

“How can I possibly rest, with Willow going to get into trouble as soon as her shop closes?”

Ben sighed. “I know. Well, we’ll just have to take it easy. You can sit down a lot. And I will watch your drink if you go anywhere. I still think it would be a better idea not to do this, but I also couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to Willow.”

“I’ll see you at what time, then? Shall we say ten?”

“Ten, it is.”

The buggy stopped, and they both climbed out, Autumn carrying the gym bag which now contained her evening dress and shoes.

Ben leaned forward and kissed her.

Then, they turned their separate ways, Autumn going into the bed and breakfast, and Ben climbing back into the buggy for the last leg of the trip, up the road to where he lived.

As she walked in, Autumn was floating on a cloud of mixed emotions. Firstly, desire for Ben. The events of last night had brought them so much closer. Then, gratitude. How lucky was she to have him, and to have Jasmine looking after things, and to have Willow, misguidedly yet passionately fighting on her side.

And lastly, she couldn’t help a chill of fear, because the killer was still out there, and now, she knew they were watching her movements.

Opening the door of Harbor View brought a rich, sweet smell of baking wafting out, together with an undertone of coffee.

Max rushed through to meet Autumn, his tail waving wildly, yelping in delight that she was back after her long absence.

Kneeling down, Autumn hugged her dog, loving the way his entire body wiggled when he was happy, burying her face in his soft fur. There was nothing like a narrow escape from death to make you appreciate the love and happiness of life.

Then, she and Max went through to the kitchen, Autumn at a walk, and Max at a trot.

Jasmine had everything done. Autumn couldn’t believe it. With all the prep she’d had to do for her kiosk today, she had somehow, also, managed to prepare an immaculate breakfast service. There were scrambled eggs and hard boiled eggs and she’d even made a quiche. How had she possibly managed that? It was nothing short of miraculous. There were croissants in the oven and muffins baking, fresh bread waiting for the toaster, fruit and cheese and cold cuts arranged on a platter. She shouldn’t have done any of this. How?

Turning to her, Autumn saw to her concern that Jasmine’s face was drawn in worry.

“I’m so glad to see you!” she blurted out. Rushing forward, she hugged Autumn hard. “I couldn’t believe what happened, what you’ve been through. This is the most terrible thing. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad I’m alive, too,” Autumn said. “But Jasmine, this breakfast. What about your kiosk?”

“My kiosk is all done.” For the first time, Autumn noticed her assistant’s reddened eyes. “I heard the news from someone at the festival. My phone started buzzing at midnight, and I was still up doing prep for today. I was almost done, so I came straight here. I got a few hours’ sleep, and then started here at seven.”

“I can never thank you enough for this,” Autumn said. “But now, please go. See to your kiosk. Thank you so much for this.”

Jasmine took off her apron and headed out, and Autumn took over the breakfast prep, not that there was much left to do. The kitchen felt warm and homey. The creaks of the floor from upstairs told her that the guests would be down in a few minutes. Everything was ready, she was safe, and she couldn’t feel more thankful.

Now, all that remained was to steer her sister away from the catastrophic course of action that would endanger her life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Gray, Autumn decided. Matching today’s low, threatening, wintry skies, gray was the color she was going to wear as she headed to the festival. There was a good reason for it. She wanted to stay as undercover as she could. Nobody, nobody must notice her.

She chose a gray top, charcoal pants, a pale gray jacket, and she even found a silver headscarf to cover her hair. Strawberry blond stood out. Today, she wanted to blend into the background for as long as she could, and hopefully, for long enough to find the killer.

Taking a deep breath, gathering her courage, she took one last look around the guesthouse. It was neat and clean. The guests had headed out, and her cleaner was upstairs, tidying the rooms. When that was done, the breakfast dishes would be washed. There were no check-outs or check-ins today, cookies had been replenished, the fire in the living room was gently crackling so that any guest who came in from the cold could warm themselves there.

Now, it was time. No more delaying.

“Max, I wish I could take you with me,” she said. “But if someone tried to kill me, there’s no way you’re going near that festival today. You can go into the backyard, and I promise I’ll walk you later.”

Imagine if someone fed Max a poisoned cookie? He’d wolf it down before Autumn even realized. She knew her dog. He wasn’t fat, but he had a healthy appetite and a love for treats. Nope, home was the safest place for him today.

With that decision made, she got her purse, and strode up the road, going at a brisk speed to counter the chilling effects of the wind. It wasn’t keeping visitors away. The ferry had just arrived, disgorging a whole crowd of guests, who dispersed to the waiting buggies, with a few hardy souls deciding to walk up the hill and brave the cold.

Guests were thronging into the festival. The pumping music coming from inside was even louder and more vibey than it had been yesterday. Autumn glanced around warily, wondering where the killer was. Was he or she nearby? She couldn’t risk as much as a sip of anything today. In fact, she realized her skin was prickling at the thought of a syringe needle being plunged into her skin.

Shivering, she acknowledged that yesterday had taught her anything was possible.

There was Ben. And he was heading toward her, with hope in his eyes, holding an iPad in his hand.

Did he have a new lead?

She hurried toward him, glad to get away from the crowd.

“It’s good to see you. That gray suits you. And it makes you look mysterious,” Ben said.

“That’s the idea. I’m flying under the radar today.”

They kissed, in a way more passionate at ten in the morning, than Autumn could remember doing for years. Maybe forever. Ethan hadn’t been a morning person.

“I found a source of information we could potentially use,” Ben said. “There’s a media file on the coffee festival. It contains links to a whole bunch of useful resources. It might help us to read through it.”

“Yes, that’s a great idea. The media releases might give us a better overview than we’ll get from walking around and listening in to random conversations.”

It seemed like Ben was having more good ideas than she was. Well, she had been partially killed yesterday, if that was the right way to put it. At any rate, she’d survived.

She flattened herself against the wall next to him, letting the crowd stream past. The iPad was a bigger size than a phone and easier to read. Autumn watched intently as Ben scrolled through the headlines.

Fabulous Festival Launches.

Big Wins Ahead at Coffee Tasting Competition.

Record Crowds Expected At Coffee’s Leading Event.

Autumn sighed. "I think we're looking in the wrong place," she said. "We need to do a general search on the coffee festival and try to find the articles that they didn't want us to read. The ones that maybe show some of the island's coffee purveyors in a bad light."

“I get you,” he said.

To save time, Autumn took out her phone. And she started on a few searches including Trevor Brewster’s name, and bad things. Words like ‘cheating’, ‘fraud’, ‘dislikeable’, ‘unreliable’, and as many others as she could think of.

Irritatingly, she seemed to be drawing blank after blank as her search progressed. From beside her, Ben’s tut-tutting and frustrated sighs showed her that his search wasn’t going well either. But Autumn wasn’t giving up. All it took was one. After all, only one person had killed Trevor. And that was the hatred, the motive, that they had to dig deep to uncover.

Then, just when she wasn’t expecting it, she saw it.

“Coffee Blog Gets Roasted.”

It was a competitor's blog, and the article was both funny and well-written.

“It seems as if a blogger, specializing in critical articles of coffee shops, has gotten himself ‘roasted’ in turn, after his words backfired.”

“Hey, Ben!” Reading on, Autumn leaned over, showing him the phone screen. “Look here. This is interesting. In fact, I’ll go further. It’s fascinating.”

Ben leaned over, reading aloud the words that Autumn was showing him.

“Gavin Garrett has, for months, been writing an amusing blog about the bad side of coffee shops all over the Lake Michigan coastline. These ‘roastings’ have focused on inferior brews, disappointing service, substandard décor, and other nitpicking observations in his humorously satirical blog, Coffee Critics. With the tagline, “Still in Search of the Perfect Cup,” he has never pulled his punches, and many might say he’s exaggerated the failings of the cafes he’s visited for the sake of laughs. Until one coffee shop owner decided to fight back.”

“So you see,” Autumn said. “Trevor Brewster didn’t take this with a sense of humor, like the other store owners did, and he didn’t just brush it off either. It made him bitterly angry, and look here. He retaliated harshly. Very harshly.”

“My lawyer has gotten involved in this,” Ben read, “and The Local Brew will be taking steps to sue Coffee Critics for defamation and inaccurate representation of the facts. It's about time that this mean little man is put in his place and that he learns the consequences of his actions. I am going to destroy his blog and his life. Gavin Garrett will learn what it means to maliciously criticize an honest business. You won't be seeing his blog up for long, and I’ll take him for every penny he has, and a few more he doesn’t yet possess.”

Ben stared at Autumn, and she stared back at him in concern.

“That was a direct threat,” she said. “Gavin Garrett must have received that lawyer’s letter. That article was written a few days ago, and something tells me that Trevor Brewster was the vindictive type. He wasn’t one to threaten to do something without doing it first. His lawyer was probably the only person he actually paid for his services.”

Ben nodded, frowning. "Yes. I can imagine he wouldn't say that in public unless that lawyer's letter was already on the way. The question is – what did Gavin Garrett do in his defense? He had a legitimate and believable threat to destroy him. Would he have taken it? Or for the sake of his blog and his survival, would he have tried to manage that threat before the worst of it landed?"

“Dead men can’t sue?” Autumn said grimly.

“Exactly,” Ben said.

“He could have clumsily made it look like an accident, knowing that there would be so many people in town for the coffee festival that nobody would think it was him. Especially seeing that article, and that threat, didn’t get a lot of mileage. It was a local paper that wrote it, a small town paper. Even the island’s own media didn’t cover it.”

“Maybe they didn’t even know about the blog? Or else, they weren’t prepared to support him in that endeavor? I know the blog was a bit cruel, and it poked cheeky fun, but anyone who read it could see it was lighthearted. It seems like one of those blogs that actually make you want to go to the places, despite the insults.”

“Yes. The blog posts poke fun at the writer himself, as well as at the places he critiques. So maybe yes, our local news sites decided to stay out of it.”

“Where is Gavin Garrett based?” Autumn asked. “He obviously must have come to the island to commit the murder, if he was the killer.”

"And he must have stayed here if he tried to poison your cocktail last night," Ben pointed out.

“The lure of the coffee festival must have been too strong for him to resist,” Autumn said. “But we’re theorizing. There is a guest list for the festival, and we need to see if he’s on it.”

Ben nodded. “Let’s go in and ask Fenella.”

“Only we need to do it discreetly,” Autumn warned, thinking again of how easy it would be to plunge a loaded syringe into her arm. “I know Fenella is not a killer, but I think she has a habit of talking to people. So, if possible, we need to find this out without alerting her."

“It will be better to do that,” Ben said somberly.

"I wonder if you could distract her while I sneak in and take a look at the guest list?" Autumn suggested.

“Distract her? With what? A pointless question, perhaps?” Ben frowned.

"You might need a few of them," Autumn said. "I'll have to find the list and then work my way through it. It might take a while."

“Okay. I see what I need to do.” Ben took her hand. “Come on. Operation Guest List is under way.”

They headed into the festival, showing their tickets at the door, and then, they turned in the direction of the small organizer’s office.

It was at the back, next to the coffee-tasting competition, and that was proving wildly popular today. There was a long queue for the tasting booths. The organizers were being kept busy, rushing to and fro with coffee jugs and stressed expressions, making sure that every tasting cup contained the right coffee. Would anyone win it, Autumn wondered. Eight different cups to get right? It seemed a remote chance, like winning the lottery.

Ben tapped on the door of the organizer’s office, and a moment later, a stressed, “Come in,” resounded from inside. That was Fenella’s voice. She was in there, buried under a mound of paperwork, Autumn guessed.

When Ben pushed the door open, she saw her guess was right.

Fenella had three different in trays piled on her desk, each one teetering under a mass of paperwork. Booking forms, competition rules, exhibitor information and more, all stacked up in the trays.

“Ah, Ben,” she said, looking up at him with a smile that looked as stressed as her voice sounded. “How can I help you? Hello Autumn,” she then said immediately. “Are you okay? I hear there was an incident yesterday night.”

Autumn realized her intuition was correct. Fenella did hear about everything that went on, and she shared it, too. Probably without even realizing she was doing it.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Autumn said, not wanting to give any details. It would be better if the killer thought she wasn’t fine.

“I was wondering if you could come with me quick,” Ben said. “There’s something in the men’s restroom that needs your attention. I’d like to show you. Probably best if we go in together.”

“Oh, goodness. On top of everything else?” Fenella looked so distraught that Autumn felt bad about the fact she was having to leave her desk for no reason. Then again, maybe there was a reason. Ben was clever, and he wouldn’t have lured her out of the office without having some small glitch to show her.

She had no idea how long they would be, but for now, the office was empty. Autumn sneaked inside, pushing the door closed behind her.

She stared at the piles of paper, her mind racing, wondering where the harassed Fenella would have filed the list of ticket sales.

There were so many places it might be, that this was going to come down to sheer guesswork. She hurried over to the first in tray and began looking through it. Where would a list be? Near the bottom? At the top? It would presumably be a long document because there were hundreds of people attending. That ruled out single sheets.

Autumn began to hunt through frantically, with the uneasy sensation that the clock was ticking, and that once this chance was gone, they wouldn’t get it again.

And then, just as she turned to the second in tray, the worst happened.

There was a loud hammering on the office door.

Someone was coming in – and from the sounds of it, they were in a panic.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Come in!” Autumn heard the quiver in her own voice. Now, she was sure, she was looking just as stressed as Fenella. She was behind a desk where she had no right to be, looking through private papers. With somebody bursting in, she’d better come up with a good reason for her presence, and her actions.

The woman who entered was someone that Autumn recognized. She was one of the coffee sellers, who’d been having the impassioned discussion with a fellow salesperson yesterday. Emily, that was her name. She and Carter had both been trying to outdo each other in bragging.

“Ah, I need your help, please,” the woman said, not even looking closely at Autumn. She must think she was just an assistant.

"How can I help?" Autumn replied politely. She could keep up the pretense for a few minutes. She couldn't actually answer any questions. And, of course, if Fenella came back, then big trouble would land.

"I need to know where I'm judging. We've got a barista blend competition coming up and it has two different sections," the woman said. "There's the Custom Coffee section and the Commercial Blend section. I can't remember which panel I'm on or where I'm supposed to be. Please, help. I have a nasty feeling it's starting in a few minutes."

This poor woman was frantic. Autumn sympathized with her predicament. Being late was terrible, and as a judge, she had to be on time and make a good impression. Now, anxiety was flashing from her hazel eyes, and tension visible in every line of her short but trim, turquoise-suited, body.

“I’ll try to find it for you,” Autumn said, now derailed from her current objective and on a new mission of assistance.

“Try? What do you mean, try? This is the organizer’s office. Aren’t you the organizer?” Emily demanded.

That was a precarious path that Autumn wasn’t willing to venture down at this time.

“Well, ma’am, I’m not the organizer. The organizer has headed out to fix a problem in the men’s restrooms. I am just a helpful member of the public.”

“Oh.” She sounded less mad at Autumn now. “I appreciate your help. Really it’s my fault, for having mislaid the list I was sent. It was just so chaotic here yesterday, and there were so many clients to meet up with.”

While she was talking, Autumn was frantically searching. Surely something like a judges’ list would be near, or at, the top of one of the trays? After all, if the competitions were taking place today, then this woman couldn’t be the only one who’d need to know where and when to go. There were probably going to be streams of worried people filtering in.

She grabbed frantically at the topmost papers in the first tray. Searched through. No luck. How about the second one? Nope, these all seemed to be exhibitor forms. What about this one?

“Please, help!” Emily’s voice was quivering with stress. “Emily Wilkins. Can you find my name?”

“I’m trying. I’m trying.” Autumn hunted through the papers, feeling stress rise inside her. She’d expected to be stressed at this moment, but for different reasons.

“Here it is!” she said. “I’ve got it!”

A double-page document, neatly stapled together, with a heading that was both in capital letters and in bold. "JUDGES TIMETABLE".

With a finger on the paper to guide her, she looked down the neat columns, ready to help this judge at this crucial time.

“Okay. You’re in luck,” Autumn said, deeply relieved. “You’re judging right here, in the Festival Main Hall, at the far end, next to the coffee tasting competition. There’s a side room called The Annex, and that’s where you need to be.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, that’s so helpful.”

“Are there any other times that you need?” Autumn said.

“There’s the afternoon one, but I think I know where that one is. It’s at South beach Lodge, at three p.m.?”

“That’s correct. Well, good luck,” Autumn smiled. “May the best coffee blender win.”

The judge hurried out, and Autumn shook her head. Doing that impromptu good deed had left her very short on time. At any moment, Fenella could return, and she hadn’t even located the list of attendees yet.

But, as she was about to put the judges’ paper back, a name near the bottom caught her eye.

“Gavin Garrett”.

“Wait, he’s there?” In shock, Autumn grabbed the sheet and took a closer look.

She couldn’t believe it. There was his name, in black and white. Her good deed in helping Emily had unwittingly rewarded her, because Gavin Garrett was not only at the festival, but he’d been invited to be a celebrity judge, too.

Trevor Brewster would have been appalled. If he’d been alive, Autumn was sure he would have choked on his own coffee when he read the news. But the point was – he wasn’t alive, and perhaps Gavin’s fame in being asked to judge, and his good fortune in having been able to get this far without a huge outcry from Trevor, had been because he’d stealthily eradicated the man who intended to destroy his life.

Everything had worked out very fortunately for Gavin, and Autumn couldn’t help wondering if he’d had a part in creating his own good luck.

He was judging at a competition that was taking place along the Coffee Route. It was at the Gardens venue, a quaint tearoom that was located on the opposite side of the island from the harbor. At eleven thirty a.m., the Gardens Tearoom was hosting the Fruity Flavors competition, where coffee brands that had fruity notes would be competing against each other to decide on – well, Autumn guessed it would be which was the fruitiest. She didn’t know exactly. But a panel of three judges were assessing the entries, and one of them was Gavin.

They needed to get to the Gardens Tearoom, and fast.

Autumn jumped up from the seat at the desk, which she’d ended up perching on while she searched for the list that Emily had needed. Just in time to hear footsteps approaching.

“There might be one other small issue that needs your attention,” she heard Ben saying, in a strained voice, as the footsteps neared.

“It will have to wait, Dr. Hartley. I have to be here, at my desk, now. There may be queries coming in.”

Fenella rushed in, and rounded the desk, as Autumn quickly shimmied in the direction of the door.

She gave Ben a conspiratorial nod, and relief filled his eyes.

They hurried out.

“You found it so soon? That’s amazing,” Ben said, as they rushed down the corridor. “I was hoping to delay Fenella with the issue of a missing light bulb in the men’s restroom. I noticed it yesterday. But when I got there today, someone had already fixed it!”

“Oh, no. That must have been a nasty moment,” Autumn sympathized, now on a zigzag route through the back corridors, to the main road.

“It was. I bought some time by saying I thought it was flickering, but all in all, it was a lost cause, and now I fear that Fenella thinks I’m weird,” Ben said.

“I’ve found that’s an unwanted side-effect of investigating,” Autumn said. “But I’m sure that when she brings her cats for their next checkup, you’ll redeem yourself in her eyes.”

“I hope so. By the way, where are we going? Was Gavin on the guest list, and if so, why are we heading out?” Ben asked.

“Because he’s not just on the guest list. He’s a celebrity judge. And in exactly twenty minutes, he’ll be assessing the Fruity Flavors competition, up at the Gardens Tearoom,” Autumn said, unable to conceal the pride in her voice at having gotten this information.

“That’s brilliant of you to work it out.” Standing in the road, Ben quickly got on his phone to call a buggy. "But that's also very worrying, because it shows you that he's benefited from Trevor's death. If Trevor was alive and he'd seen his name on that list, he'd have caused a massive outcry. I doubt that Gavin would have ended up judging, if Trevor had started complaining about those lawsuits, and that defamation."

Autumn nodded as the buggy, which must have been just around the corner, pulled up and they got in. Ben was thinking along the same lines as her. It was easy to see the motive for the murder. Being a celebrity judge would raise Gavin Garrett’s profile, bring readers flocking to his blog, and benefit his reputation.

She felt a sense of tense certainty, as they headed toward the Gardens Tearoom, that they were going to meet the killer there.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"Thanks for the ride." Autumn jumped out of the buggy, landing on legs that felt numb from cold. The temperature was dropping sharply, and she had a feeling that the predicted light rain this afternoon would actually turn into snow.

Hopefully, by the time the first flakes started falling, Gavin Garrett would be in police custody. It all depended now on what she and Ben could do and how fast they could do it.

The Gardens Tearoom was a place that came into its own in the summertime, with its big, arched windows that offered a different view from every side. Sit on the north side, and you'd have the endless, shimmering view of the lake. On the south side, the view was of dark forest. And on both east and west, there were different vistas of the event's gardens. In summer, they were a riot of color, but even now, in winter, there were some carefully tended Christmas roses and winterberries, providing a pleasing, red and white contrast to the dull green leaves.

“I haven’t seen Officer Warring around today,” she said, as they headed into the venue, showing their event season tickets to the attendant at the door.

"I am on a few of the island's message boards," Ben said, as they headed into the main atrium. "I noticed just before I went out that there was an incident of theft at one of the guesthouses at the harbor. Seems that a guest tried to leave without paying, taking a few of the valuables along with him. I think Warring was called out there urgently to catch the thief before he left the island.”

Autumn nodded. “That’s bad timing for the other case,” she said. But for an urgent callout like that, with a thief about to make his getaway, she guessed there had been no option for Warring.

“Yes. I’m sure he’ll be back on track in a couple of hours, but for now, we’re on our own. Which is both good and bad,” Ben acknowledged. They were trying to talk quietly, but in the hubbub of voices as the hall filled, it was difficult. The Gardens Tearoom had put together a historical display of coffee over the ages, with posters, laminated information sheets, and actual displays of coffee brewers, grinding tools, and processing tools, around the atrium’s walls, which was attracting a lot of interest. There were also some rare and expensive coffees available to be tried at a small counter on the atrium’s far wall. There was an extra fee payable to sip these pricey brews, but from the queues at the desk, a lot of people were keen to try them.

“Yes. It’s good, because he can’t stop us, but it’s bad, because he also can’t help us.”

Autumn swallowed. Nearly having been killed yesterday was giving her a different perspective this morning. It would be comforting to know that the police were not tied up down by the harbor, when they were all the way on the island’s other side.

The crackle of a loudspeaker resounded over the soft background music.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Gardens Tearoom, where the coffee judging competition will be taking place in the next few minutes. We ask all competitors to please finish up brewing your blends as soon as possible. This judging will be done anonymously, so your jugs will be numbered from one to – er – ten. And only one judge at a time will be allowed into the competition room, to ensure a fair result and no collaboration.”

There was an excited murmur from the guests who were gathering. Anticipation was already rising.

"But where are the judges?" Autumn had an idea of what Gavin Garrett looked like from the photo on his blog. He had an elfin face with wide cheekbones, a narrow chin, and a mischievous expression that matched his irreverent writing style perfectly. But what did it hide? She guessed he was in his mid-twenties. He had his whole life ahead of him, and a lawsuit could have caused it to crumble around him. It made sense that he would have done whatever he needed to to save himself. She couldn't exactly pity him, but she could follow his thought processes.

"At present, the judges are in the secluded waiting room, where they will remain until they have finished their scoring," the announcer explained, helpfully answering Autumn's question. "Each judge will receive a fifteen-minute window to do the tasting individually. At the end, the scores will be counted, and the winner will be announced. Best Fruity Flavor will win the fabulous prize of a dinner for two at our tearoom, a pack of olive oil and wine, a spa voucher for The Retreat, and a cash prize.”

One judge at a time? Autumn glanced at Ben. Was he thinking what she was thinking? From the raise of his eyebrows, he was.

“If we can get into that judging room while Gavin is there, it would be the perfect chance to speak to him in private,” he whispered.

“I wonder how we can do that?” Autumn said.

“Let’s go and find out.” As the visitors milled around the coffee history display, and the buzz of conversation became even louder, Ben grasped Autumn’s hand and led her down a side corridor.

“If I’m right,” he whispered, “this door leads into the room they used for judging. This was one of the first places I visited when I was thinking of moving to the island full time. I got lost looking for the restroom, and then ended up exploring.”

Getting a grip on the geography of the place, Autumn stared at the door.

“Yes,” she whispered. “This is the room.” Peering through the keyhole, she couldn’t see much apart from a small chink of green and white striped wallpaper on the opposite wall. A smell of coffee emanated from the keyhole.

Was it fruity? She wished she had a better palate so that she could tell.

Now, they were both pressing their heads against the door, waiting for any sound from the other side. It would be very important to burst in when the right judge was there. Opening the door when the wrong judge was busy assessing the coffees would get them nowhere.

Waiting was tense. For a start, lurking in the corridor like this, with their ears pressed to the room’s side door, was highly suspicious looking. There was no denying the fact that if anyone saw them, questions would be asked. But they had to try to hear who was coming into this room.

“The door!” Autumn whispered. She’d distinctly heard the sound of the room’s main door opening.

“And here, we have your coffees, ready to judge.” This was the same man who’d announced over the microphone just now. “We have some water, and a few cookies also, and obviously, after you’ve judged, you can go and enjoy the buffet lunch in our dining room.”

“Thank you.” It was a man speaking. His voice was fairly squeaky. It was exactly as Autumn imagined Gavin Garrett’s voice to be. Was this him?

“Try to keep it to the fifteen minute window please, Mr. Garrett, but if you exceed the time, it won’t be a problem. Getting the correct result is more important.”

Adrenaline spiked in Autumn’s bloodstream as she heard the name.

Their luck was in. The man they needed was the very first celebrity judge, and that meant their corridor time would not be minimized. That was a huge relief, because she was feeling very exposed lurking here, with voices and footsteps coming from the doorways nearby.

“Should we go in now?” she breathed.

Ben was still listening.

“Let’s give him a minute,” he said. “We need to make sure the organizer has left.”

Just as well. A moment later, there was the sound of the door closing.

Now, finally, Gavin was alone in that room.

As they were about to go in, Autumn had second thoughts about the logistics.

"Ben," she whispered, "I think I should speak to him alone, and you should stand watch here. That way, if I need help, I can shout for you. But out here, at least you can make sure nobody hears us."

Ben made a face. “I’d rather be in there, on the scene. What if he gets violent?”

"Then I yell, and you'll be inside in one second," Autumn pointed out. "It'll be hedging all our bets this way. Nobody can hear voices from outside the other door. That main room is too noisy. But if people come past and hear someone speaking to the judges inside here, then we'll all be in trouble. If Gavin is innocent, I don't want to do that to him."

“True,” Ben said. He nodded reluctantly. “I guess you go in alone then, but shout as loud as you can if anything goes wrong.”

“I will.”

Autumn listened one more time. Inside, Gavin was muttering to himself.

“Hello, you little beauties, you caffeine bombs. Can’t wait to taste your fruit. Let’s hope this goes well. Hope I can pick up the right notes. This could be big for me, really big. Just be calm, Gav! Don’t do anything stupid or reckless. Calm and cool headed.”

“He sounds a little tense,” she whispered.

“I’ll be standing by,” Ben confirmed.

Autumn put her hand on the door handle and turned it slowly. Then, she edged into the room.

There was a long table, covered by a white cloth, set up near the big bay window. On it were ten jugs of coffee on hot plates, each with a large number in front of them. The aroma of coffee filled the room and now, even in this pivotal moment, Autumn had time to think that she definitely did pick up the notes of fruit in the aroma.

Gavin was holding a clipboard in his hand, standing and staring at the jugs of coffee. He hadn’t started tasting yet. And when he heard the door close, he turned.

His quizzical expression had a tinge of worry in it as he held up his clipboard.

"Please, I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave, ma'am. I'm doing some very important judging here, and I can't be disturbed."

“I need to speak to you,” Autumn said in a low voice, closing the distance between them as quickly as she could.

"What about?" For a moment, he looked totally confused. "Wait, are you trying to bribe or influence me? I'm really sorry, but I'm one of those judges who's incorruptible. I mean, this is my very first judging experience and there's already been some – well, some other trouble. So I'm afraid I must ask you to leave now. Or I'll call the organizer."

That was quite something, calling himself incorruptible when he might have murdered the man who intended to launch a lawsuit against him. Keeping her expression firm, Autumn stood her ground.

“This isn’t about the competition,” she explained. “This is about something else. Something that happened a few days ago.”

"No. Not that?" Gavin knew exactly what Autumn was talking about. She could see it in the frenzied way that he was looking at her. In a moment, his demeanor had changed from focused to petrified.

“It’s to do with a legal threat that I believe you were expecting. And what happened afterward.”

Now, Gavin was breathing fast. She could hear the huff of each sharp exhalation in the quiet room. The knuckles of the hand holding the clipboard had gone white.

“I thought that was all over?” he said.

“Why did you think that?” Autumn took another step toward him. Now, it felt like she was approaching a frightened cat. If he’d had fur, it would all have been sticking up along his back.

“Because – because – look, go away! Just go!”

“I need some information from you.”

His gaze veered around the room, eyes wide and terrified.

“If you won’t go, then I will!”

The words burst out of him, sudden and surprising, as he dropped his clipboard and made a bee-line for the window next to the coffee table.

“Hey, wait!” Autumn hissed, not wanting to draw any outside attention. He was doing the opposite of getting violent.

Gavin yanked up the sash window. It moved smoothly open, as cold air rushed into the room. And then, with a flick of his legs and a duck of his body, he was out. And he was racing away across the tea room’s immaculate lawn.

“Ben!” Autumn called, but she did so softly. Behind her, she heard the room’s side door being wrenched open immediately, as Ben hurried to rescue her.

“He went out!” Autumn had time for that brief explanation as Ben burst into the room, his face taut with concern.

Then, there wasn’t time for anything else but to follow. Leaping through the window in the most agile way she could manage, Autumn dropped down into one of the flower beds, her shoes squelching into the soft, loamy soil.

And then, she launched herself out of the flower bed, mud spattering, and raced in pursuit of the fleeing judge.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Gavin was running as if he was being chased by a large, angry dog. He was going so fast he’d left deep footprints in the damp lawn. A deeper gash in the grass showed Autumn where he’d pushed off to leap over a flower bed. She did the same, her legs scissoring, landing with a thump and a skid next to the gouges he’d made in the grass.

He was heading for the woods. What on earth was he doing, and why was he running like this? Questions surged in her mind, but unless she could catch up with him, there were going to be no answers. Of all the actions she’d expected him to take, bolting out of the judging room and running into the woods, had been the last one on the list.

“Stop! Gavin, come back!” she yelled.

Behind her, she heard the pounding of feet as Ben joined the chase. He had longer legs than her, and she guessed he was a much faster runner. The problem was that if Gavin got into these woods in time, he might be able to disappear. They were thick, dark and overgrown. In those closely packed pine trees, with pine needles on the floor, there would be a hundred different hiding places.

“Wait!” she shouted, but he didn’t even hesitate or look around.

He was just yards from the woods, and she had time to think was that this, for sure, was a guilty man. Having been caught out in a crime, he’d decided that he was going to flee the scene. Maybe even flee the island? She had to get to him in time. It was just that it wasn’t so easy.

“Please, stop?” she tried, the breath burning in her lungs. In front of her, the ground sloped down to a scenic stream that wended its way through the grounds. It was at least two yards wide, and the banks on either side were steep and slippery. But he’d jumped it, and that meant she had to, too.

Leaping off from her right leg, Autumn strained to get as much distance as she could in the air, trying not to think about what would happen if she didn’t make it. Suffering with wet shoes and drenched trousers for the rest of the day would be the least of her worries if this suspect ended up getting away.

She managed to make it over the stream, clutching onto her purse as she flew through the air and sprawled on the grass, feet skidding. She went down onto one hand, but at least she hadn’t fallen in. The problem was that her ungainly jump had cost her time. Already, Gavin was disappearing into the woods.

“Gavin, wait!” Not much use in saying that. Why would he wait if he was the killer? He’d be looking to get away as fast as he possibly could.

A thump from behind her told her that Ben had cleared the stream with much more flair than she’d done. In a few moments, he’d surely overtake her. The problem was that the woods were only a few yards ahead now, and Gavin had disappeared.

Autumn turned, seeing Ben running toward her, his shoes muddied, but his pace fast and strong.

“I don’t know where he went!” she gasped, spreading her hands.

“There’s a path heading in,” Ben said, spotting a gap in the trees. He was right. There was a trodden section in the pine needles, showing that someone had run this way.

Now, Ben was in the lead, forging ahead, and Autumn was running behind, wishing that there was more available air. This had taken it out of her, especially after having spent a night in the clinic. The adrenaline that had given her wings at the start of this chase was beginning to flag. She hadn't even had a morning coffee to energize her, because she'd thought it wiser to abstain after last night. Exhaustion was flooding her, her limbs leaden. She dropped back to a tired walk as Ben raced ahead along the winding path. Autumn knew she needed to be there for him. This could turn dangerous. She'd need to get running again as soon as she'd had a little break.

But as she was stumbling along, puffing for air, she saw something in the trees.

What was it? Stopping immediately, she turned to the right, trying to take a better look.

Was that a person? In between the tree trunks, she’d spied something that had looked like a person, crouched down. It couldn’t be, of course. It must be just a tree stump, or a shrub, or something like that.

Although – maybe not. Turning in that direction, Autumn could now hear something. With her own breathing slowing, she could hear faint but distinct gasps, muffled, as if the person making them was trying not to.

“Gavin?” she called. “Is that you?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the voice came back, grumpy and breathless. “Are you going to chase me all the way to the edge of the island? Do you expect me to jump in the lake, or what? Just leave me alone!”

“Ben!” Immediately, Autumn shouted his name. Hopefully, he’d stop racing through the forest and come back. She hoped he’d heard. Now, though, she was on her own and had to close in on her suspect before he got the strength to run again.

"Why are you chasing me? Does this mean so much to you? It's simply ridiculous," Gavin said, straightening up and staring at Autumn. His black jacket looked neat and smart, but his pants were muddied from the knee down and had pine needles sticking to them. His shoes were caked in mud, like hers.

“What’s ridiculous about trying to find out about a crime?” she asked. At least he didn’t seem to be turning violent, but she had to stay on high alert. He might become violent at any moment.

“Crime? Oh, please. The last thing I expected when I accepted the celebrity judging role was that I’d be chased by Trevor Brewster’s legal team.”

“By – what?”

“Well, that’s obviously who you are. I can spot a lawyer a mile away,” Gavin said, staring at her scornfully.

“Then you need your eyes checked, because I’m not a lawyer,” Autumn corrected him. “I’m the owner of a bed and breakfast. And my partner, who was also trying to catch up with you, is a vet.”

“A vet?” Gavin’s face screwed up in an incredulous expression.

“He’s coming back now.” Autumn could hear his footsteps.

Ben jogged through the trees toward them, standing next to Autumn. With him there, she felt safer. Quickly, she checked inside her purse, making sure that nothing had fallen out in that headlong run.

“I’ve been chased by a hotel owner and a vet? I thought you were Trevor Brewster’s legal team, going to serve papers on me in person, and ruin my judging experience, and my chance to gain some traction on the island.”

“Trevor Brewster was murdered.”

The words slipped out of Autumn’s mouth before she could stop them. That hadn’t been a wise thing to say, she then chastised herself. But it sure got a reaction from Gavin.

His mouth dropped open so wide that Autumn thought his chin would hit the forest’s floor.

“Wait, murdered? You can’t be serious. Are you being serious? Someone actually killed that dude? Why didn’t I know about this? When did it happen?”

“Are you sure you didn’t know about it?” Autumn asked.

“I didn’t have a clue. How should I know? It was, like, so stressful coming here and thinking that he’d be chasing me down with his team of lawyers and causing trouble. I booked into a really small place, and yesterday, when I attended the festival, I only stayed for an hour and tried a few coffees. I was feeling really jumpy, knowing I was on his turf.”

“What time did you leave the festival?” Autumn asked.

“Why are you asking about my timing?” Clearly suspicious, he glared at her.

It was Ben who spoke.

“I think that seeing there’s probably been a misunderstanding on both sides here, we’d better start walking back,” he said. “We’ve come quite a long way, and Gavin, you have a judging job to do.”

Gavin spun around, staring in the direction from which he’d fled.

“Oh, no, I don’t believe it,” he muttered. “I was set up for success here, I was going to gain so many followers as a result of this judging, and now, look. I’ve ruined it for myself. If only you hadn’t come in!”

“You haven’t ruined it.” Autumn checked the time. “You’ve still got seven minutes left in the judging session, and you can ask for extra time if you need it. There’s a quick way back to the main building, as well.” She pointed in the direction of the lawns. “It’ll be a couple of minutes’ walk, and there’s a bridge.”

“But I’m covered in mud!”

“It’ll mostly fall off your shoes on the way back, if you walk over grass and paving,” Autumn said. “I’m an expert on mud. My guests walk into the guesthouse with muddy shoes all the time. This is loose enough that it’ll just shake off in a minute. It’s not sticky mud.”

“Well, if you say so,” he said, brushing frantically at the pine needles on his pants cuffs.

“If you say you stepped outside for a breath of air as a palate cleanser, that’ll be a good explanation,” Ben encouraged. “Remember, you’re a real character. Your blog is written in that style. Most likely, they’re expecting you to do something eccentric while you’re here.”

“That’s true enough.” Now, as they all strode back toward the main building, a light shone in Gavin’s eyes. “I can visualize the blog post, actually. “Mud and Fresh Air in My Quest for Fruit.”

“Sounds good,” Autumn said.

As they walked, she knew that there was still some work that needed to be done, because they had not yet confirmed Gavin’s alibi. They needed to account for his time before they could rule him out completely.

“What were your movements yesterday?” she asked.

He clearly had suspicions about her still, just as she had about him, because he gave her a dubious glance.

“I don’t know why you’re asking that,” he said.

“Because when the police find out that Trevor was about to sue you, which they will do in time, they’re going to suspect you of the murder,” Autumn said, seeing Gavin flinch at her words.

“As if getting sued for everything I possess, and stripped of all my future earnings, wasn’t enough? Now I’m a murder suspect?”

“I’m just saying, if you can account for your movements, then you’ll need to tell the police. And in the meantime, there’s no harm in telling us.”

“I guess not,” he said, then adding haughtily, “I still feel that I should be suing him for reputational damage as a result of the murder.”

“You can’t do that, though,” Autumn explained.

“I guess not. I suppose the logic doesn’t work out, but even so, I can’t help feeling that he started it. I mean, it was just a standard review. It balanced good and bad. Half my criticisms are really satire, and the problem is that people don’t understand it.”

“Yes, I can see that. So, your movements?”

Gavin walked a few steps, absently brushing at his pants as he thought back.

“I checked in at nine, early, and spent some time looking at my notes. Then, I left my guesthouse at twelve, and walked to the festival. I got there at half past twelve, and left at one-thirty. Then, I took a buggy tour around the island with a small group in the afternoon. That was quite fun. We did most of the Coffee Route, and ended up having dinner at a place not far from here, along the north shore.”

His face lit up as he spoke, and Autumn could see that Gavin had enjoyed his day yesterday.

And the schedule had convinced her he wasn't the killer. There was no way he could have gotten to the harbor to kill Trevor if he'd been checking into a guesthouse on the north of the island at nine. And as for last night, when she was sure the killer had been at the cocktail function and spiking her drink, he was able to account for his time.

“I hope the rest of your judging goes well,” she said, as they arrived at the window he’d climbed out of. Peeking through it, Autumn saw that the room looked calm and undisturbed, the coffee jugs pristine. Nobody was rushing around in a panic, wondering where the judge had gone. They’d managed to have a frenzied chase into the woods and out again, and all the while, the organizers had thought that Gavin was safely in the judging room, assessing fruitiness.

Ben gave him a leg up so that he didn’t dirty his pants again. Autumn had been right about the mud. Most of it had fallen off, and luckily, with his pants being dark, you couldn’t see that the bottoms were wet.

“I’m actually glad of the interruption in a way,” he said, leaning out of the window.

“Why’s that?” Autumn asked.

“I had judges’ block. I wasn’t even sure where to start. I was feeling overwhelmed and intimidated by the job. Now, I’ve realized there are worse things than judging. This is going to be calm and easy in comparison.”

Giving Ben and Autumn a wink, he pulled down the window and returned to his coffee assessments.

“He’s a likeable guy,” Autumn had to admit, as she and Ben turned to the main road, ready to catch a buggy down to the festival hall.

“Yes. He has a quirky personality, especially at such a young age,” Ben said. “I’m sure he’s going to be a mover and a shaker in the coffee scene.”

Neither of them was talking about the elephant in the room – and that was the fact that this strong lead had fizzled out. Gavin wasn’t their killer, just an innocent blogger who’d been lucky to escape the legal wrath that would have piled down on his head.

But the real killer? Where were they?

Autumn acknowledged that in terms of hunting down suspects, their future was looking bleak. Then, something even worse happened.

Her phone started ringing, and when she pulled it out of her purse, she saw it was Willow calling.

“Hey!” Her sister sounded bright and cheerful. “Good news! My student help can fill in for me, for the last hour of business today. So I’m going to be able to leave in the next ten minutes.”

“But –” After the headlong chase earlier, Autumn had the breath knocked out of her all over again by this news. As she fumbled for an argument that might somehow delay her sister, Willow carried on talking in a spirited way.

“I’ve already briefed my student on the phone. Told her to watch out for threatening coffee salespeople wanting to tie her into exclusive contracts, and to call me if she sees anything suspicious.” Willow laughed.

“I think you should be there for locking up. I mean – I mean, you can come later. The – the festival isn’t that busy,” Autumn babbled, now feeling as if she was trying to hold floodgates closed. Willow blithely ignored her stammered warnings.

“Oh, no. I’m heading off immediately, and nobody’s going to stop me. Don’t worry – I’ve thought of everything. I’m going to find him – or her – whatever it takes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Autumn’s heart did a flip-flop of pure dread as she visualized exactly what an angry Willow might do when she was unleashed on the festival. Her sister had no discretion. Autumn was able to be subtle when she was mad. Willow? Not a chance. She’d steamroller over whoever tried to stop her, and at the same time, she was far too innocent and trusting to take note of anyone who was trying to kill her.

“Well, our timeframe just got shortened,” she said to Ben in tones of hard resignation. “Willow’s getting out of the shop in ten minutes. The fuse has been lit. And now, I’m worried there’s going to be an explosion.”

"Ten minutes?" Ben buried his head in his hands. The gesture looked like a blend of despair and frantic thought. Autumn felt the same. As if she was staring disaster in the face, and only a miracle could save the situation now.

But perhaps she could make that miracle happen, through deductive logic. Autumn strained her mind, thinking back over everything she’d learned, and taking into account the dynamics of the festival.

Who benefited from Trevor’s death? That was an important point to consider.

Meanwhile, Ben called for a buggy on his phone, muttering that there looked to be a ten-minute wait.

That was ten minutes of standing in the cold. It represented the last ten minutes that Willow would be spending in her shop before heading out and starting her fireworks.

No, Autumn told herself. This is ten minutes, you have to think. So think! The cold air can only help your brain.

She wished she’d had a cup of coffee this morning. Mental acuity always seemed so much easier after that first cup. Maybe it had been the wrong choice to skip it.

But suddenly, as her mind grasped at ideas, Autumn realized that a few strands were coming together.

The conversation she’d had with Willow, before all this trouble started, was what was playing in her mind. Her sister had said that one of the coffee salespeople had tried to lock her into an exclusive contract and ban all other brands. Willow had laughed it off, of course, but when it came to dollars and cents, bigger profits weren’t quite so easy to ignore.

That led her to the second thing that was replaying itself in her mind, and that was Marcus Granger, Trevor Brewster’s blond haired partner, who was capable of clearing an entire tea tray with one of his sweepingly uncoordinated gestures.

“Do you remember what Marcus said?” she asked Ben.

“I can remember some of what he said. Quite a lot, probably, if I think back. But what exactly are you thinking of?” Ben replied.

“What’s sticking in my mind right now is the way he said that Trevor had made some bad business decisions without telling him. What if one of those business decisions was what caused his death?”

Ben stared at her, interest giving way to excitement as her words sunk in.

“That’s a very good idea, especially given what a competitive environment this coffee sales industry is. Everyone is after the prize, aren’t they? I’ve been surprised by how cutthroat it’s been.”

“I think we need to find Marcus,” Autumn said. “We should have asked him more about those decisions yesterday. We missed out on an important chance to find out who Trevor had made mad.”

“I’m going to call Marcus right now,” Ben said. He scrolled to his contacts list, and looked up his number. Autumn had the brief, regretful thought that her handsome partner was a lot more organized than she was. He’d saved the numbers of everyone they’d spoken to so far. All she’d done was shove business cards into her purse. Presumably they were still there, somewhere at the bottom, under her wallet and her perfume atomizer and her spare tissues and her keys – if they hadn’t fallen out during the run, of course.

“It’s ringing,” Ben said. “And ringing. He’s not picking up.”

“I’m sure that means he must be in the festival hall,” Autumn said. “He’d never hear his phone ringing in there. We’ll have to go there and find him.”

***

Music pumped so loudly it seemed to shake the building as Autumn and Ben hurried to the hall. That had been a chilly ride. The wind had scoured her, despite the buggy’s flimsy sides being up. There was definitely going to be snow later.

But hopefully, by the time the first flakes began to fall, this killer would be behind bars, and Willow would be safe.

“I wonder if she’s here yet?” Autumn asked. That buggy ride had taken more than ten minutes, and Willow had sounded determined. She was sure her sister was already here, in the hall and hunting.

“We need to get to Marcus as soon as possible.” Without saying so, Ben’s reply told her that he was sure Willow was already here. “At least he’s easy to spot. And he’s sure to be here.”

“Just listen out for the breaking glass,” Ben agreed, trying to keep things light as the wind blew them from the breezy outdoors, through the door, and into the warm, crowded hall.

Urgency pumped in Autumn’s veins as she surveyed the room. Surely a six-foot-plus man, with blond hair, enormous shoulders, and the ability to leave a trail of destruction in his wake, couldn’t be hard to find? The problem was that she couldn’t see him at a glance, and it was so crowded. The kiosks blocked her view, making it impossible to see who was beyond them, and the music was louder than ever, a rocking, thumping, energetic salsa that would have made Autumn want to dance along to it in other circumstances.

She did her best, using a combination of wiggling, ducking, and pushing, to navigate the throngs, all the while listening out for the distinctive crash of crockery that might mean Marcus had swept an arm around to illustrate a point.

Everyone was shouting at everyone else at the top of their voices as the business people strove to finalize deals, make connections, and gain information as the festival drew to a close. Visitors were talking and laughing and tasting. Jasmine’s kiosk was jam packed, and she caught sight of her assistant, her face red, her hair held back in a chef’s hat, focused and intent as she supplied the never-ending demand for her delicious bakes.

What about down this way? A tall kiosk selling branded hats, scarves and hoodies was blocking her view. She squeezed past, giving a smiling, “No, thank you,” to the stallholder, who was waving a coffee colored scarf in her direction and shouting, “Fifty percent off in the last two hours!”

And then, she was past – and better still, she’d seen Marcus. He was at the back of the room, talking to a few people that Autumn identified as locals. These were coffee shop customers. Marcus was socializing, not closing deals, and the blond giant was a safe distance away from anything breakable.

Rushing was impossible in this press of people, but Autumn got to him as quickly as she could.

“Marcus!” she shouted. He looked around in surprise.

“Oh, it’s you,” he shouted back.

"Can I have a private word?" she asked. That made one of the customers, a ginger-haired woman who walked her Irish setter past Harbor View fairly often, start to chortle.

“Oh, dear, I don’t think there’s any chance of such a thing in here right now, my dear,” she advised Autumn. “If I were you, I’d just yell in his ear.”

That was good advice.

"By the way," the ginger-haired woman shouted to Autumn, "Is it true you were assisting the police and somebody tried to kill you? That's what I heard!"

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Autumn shrugged apologetically, deciding that pretending deafness was definitely the best way to get out of that difficult question.

Curious, Marcus leaned toward her, and Autumn directed her comment to his ear, hoping it didn’t reach anyone else’s.

“I’ve had an idea about Trevor’s death. I think I know who might have killed him.”

He leaned closer at that, offering the barked word, “Who?”

"I think he was killed because of a business decision," Autumn said. "You mentioned he'd made a few bad decisions? If he'd suddenly cut off a supplier or refused to pay a bill, it could have made somebody very angry."

Marcus paused, taking in this bombshell. Then, he shook his head. “Surely not? I mean, he did copy me on his business decisions. Most of them were bad, so I used to argue them. Like deciding that he was going to sub-let half the shop to cut costs.”

“He did that?”

“He didn’t. I refused to allow it. And I talked him out of raising the food prices to make more profit. Bad decision.”

Autumn was standing her ground. “Those were the ones you knew about.”

“Surely I knew about all of them?” Marcus asked.

“You had a massive fight with him a few days ago? You said you’d heard he’d made reckless decisions since then.”

“Well, yes, I did hear whispers from the staff that he’d been doing that.”

“Did he contact you after that fight?”

“I was going to meet with him at the festival.”

“I think Trevor was planning to end the partnership with you here,” Autumn said.

“You think so? What do you mean by that?”

"He had started to make his own decisions without consulting you, and some of them were very serious. Do you know that the business was suing a young blogger for defamation?”

“He did that? I didn’t know about that!” Marcus’s voice was incredulous. “When did that happen?”

“Just a few days ago.”

“Are you sure about that?” A frown was wrinkling Marcus’s brow. “Doing something like that, paying for lawyers, yes, he should have consulted me.”

“He didn’t. And there might be other things you didn’t know about.”

Marcus sighed. “You’re right. I’ve been in denial. He probably has been ruining the business with idiotic decisions, thinking that he’d be the sole owner from here on. I’ll have to go through his office tomorrow and see. I was planning to have a look through his things and pack everything up. I can’t do it now, obviously.”

“Where’s the office?” Autumn asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Marcus quizzed her.

“Because if someone killed him, they might also plan to search his office. Erasing evidence.”

“Not a chance. They wouldn’t do that. The office is at the back of his house. Nobody would break into his house. One of the neighbors would see. I’ll have a look tomorrow morning.”

Clearly considering the conversation to be over, he turned back to the group he'd been speaking to originally, leaving Autumn feeling frazzled.

Tomorrow? She had a strong suspicion that tomorrow would be too late. The entire town was now packed into this hall, all caffeinated to the nines, and enjoying the warmth. Including Trevor Brewster’s neighbors, most likely.

If she’d been a killer, then she would have seized the moment to destroy the evidence now, knowing that everyone was likely to be busy at the festival, and so there was the least chance of the neighbors peeking out of their windows. And what if the real killer had done just that? This killer had been clever and careful throughout. He or she had used the festival’s activity to their advantage, taking the perfect moment to try to murder Autumn, when news had gotten around that she’d been trying to follow in their tracks.

If this had been due to a business decision, of course, the next step would be to get to the records and destroy them. And now was the perfect time of day. The busy festival, the looming snowstorm, the fact that the police must still be chasing after the thief who’d stolen from a guesthouse.

It was the only explanation that made sense. Trevor's decision-making had been increasingly erratic, his judgment poor, and he'd been destroying relationships instead of working on them.

Something he’d done, one of the actions he’d taken, had destroyed him.

She looked around her again, realizing to her dismay that she’d lost Ben. He was nowhere to be seen, and must have gone off on his own. Looking for him would take forever.

Where was Trevor Brewster’s house? Marcus obviously knew, but he hadn’t told her. Would he be in the local directory?

Autumn headed out of the town hall’s back door, inhaling a deep breath as she stood in the courtyard. She took her phone out of her purse and scrolled through it, hoping that she’d get answers. Everyone was in the local directory, but Trevor had moved here quite recently. What if he hadn’t updated his details yet?

There he was. Relief filled her as she saw his name.

“Trevor Brewster – 4 Calico Lane.”

That wasn’t far. Calico Lane was home to a scenic row of double story houses, lined with trees that provided glorious shade in summer, but which were now almost totally winter bare.

She should really find Ben, but in the chaos inside, it was impossible. It would be far better to message him.

“I’m going to Trevor Brewster’s house. I think that the killer might be covering his tracks.”

She added the address, and with the message sent, Autumn headed away from the hubbub of the festival, and in the direction of Calico Lane, hoping that Ben would read the message soon, and meet her there.

The more she thought about it, the surer she became that this had been the killer’s plan all along. Murder Trevor, wait until the busiest time of the festival – and then, erase the remaining evidence, to commit the perfect crime.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Autumn felt cold, lonely, and very exposed as she headed along the road that led to Calico Lane. Her breath puffed out of her in misty clouds, and she hugged her jacket tighter around her.

She might be wrong, but Autumn reminded herself that now was not a time for doubt. She’d seen the cutthroat atmosphere between the coffee sellers, and the threats that some of them had made to her very own sister. And Trevor hadn’t treated people well.

Undoubtedly, someone had snapped.

She'd know in a minute if her theory was right. Nerves uncoiled inside her as she turned down Calico Lane. There wasn't a soul around. Most of the houses had their outside lights on, but the inside windows of all but a few were dark. People were either at the festival or they were wrapped up warmly in their homes, with the television on.

Marcus’s assumption that nobody would break into a home was optimistic, Autumn thought. After all, someone had committed a worse crime. This was an easy one by comparison.

There was the house ahead, number four. The gold number on the green mailbox gleamed in the muted afternoon night. Beyond, the low hedges that flanked the path to the front door were trimmed perfectly straight. The door was closed.

Autumn felt a surge of relief, even though she knew it was premature. It was a comforting thought that the killer wasn’t here, and that she could get back to the festival, and that somehow, magically, everything would be okay.

Check properly, she told herself. Just glancing at the house is pointless. Go around to the back and make sure of things before you give up on this idea.

Autumn walked around the back of the house, her feet sinking into the neatly trimmed lawn. A white picket fence separated this house from its neighbors. It was chocolate box perfect, and she couldn’t see any sign of anything wrong, or broken, or disturbed. The small side window was undamaged. Taking a peek through it, she couldn’t see anything out of place.

Trevor’s office was at the back. Go to the back, she reminded herself. Check everywhere.

She rounded the corner of the house, and let out another sigh of relief as she saw everything looked fine. The back door was closed. There was a small vegetable garden that contained nothing but a few kale and cabbage plants.

The sash windows at the back of the house were both closed.

But they were not locked. Nobody in Magnolia Bay would lock their windows. There was no need to. These big sash windows provided a perfect entry point.

This was no time to be a reckless heroine. This was time to call the police and share her suspicions.

Dry mouthed, Autumn got out her phone. She stepped a few paces away from the window, hugging the wall, aware that if there was anyone inside, they might hear her.

“Good afternoon,” she said to the operator. “I’d like to report a possible crime. I’m standing here at number four Calico Lane, and I am worried that someone’s going to get into the house through the big sash windows, which are unlocked.”

“Four Calico Lane?”

“On Magnolia Bay,” she confirmed.

“Are you in any danger, ma’am?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so. It’s just that somebody may be inside. It’s very important for a police officer to get here as soon as possible. Please.”

“Is this your house?”

“No. It belongs to a murder victim. Can you ask the police to come quickly?” Frustration now seethed inside Autumn. She didn’t think this operator was getting it.”

“Wait, are you saying there’s a murder victim inside there, ma’am?”

“No, he was murdered yesterday. Now, I think someone might be going to search his house while the neighbors are out at the festival.”

“I see, ma’am.” But she didn’t think the operator did see. She was sounding very confused. “We’ll send an officer as soon as possible.”

Autumn took a deep breath. In the circumstances, she should probably leave it. She knew that hadn’t gone well, and all she had was a strong suspicion. The problem was that the killer might already be inside at this very moment, destroying the evidence linking him, or her, to the crime. If she walked away now, this killer might go free.

He or she might find out that Willow was now hunting him, and might decide to silence her before they left the island. Autumn’s stomach twisted hard at the thought. If only she could dissuade her sister from her mission, but there was nothing that would stop her now.

"Everyone is at risk until this killer is caught," Autumn said firmly, trying her best to suppress the quiver in her legs. This killer might decide to continue murdering someone else. This, the most serious of crimes, had to be stopped now. And looking at the windows, Autumn decided it was up to her.

She slid her hands under her jacket, remembering that fingerprints might be important, and she didn’t want to obliterate the evidence, if there was any.

Wiggling and pushing, Autumn got the nearest window up by a foot and a half. That was more than enough space for her to climb inside. Now, all she needed was the willpower to go through with it.

“Go on,” she told herself. “Chances are there’s nobody in there, and then at least you’ve checked.”

She threaded one leg over the sill, and breathed deeply. This was way more scary than climbing through a window had any right to be.

“Go on,” she exhorted herself.

She threaded the other leg through. The landing was easy. She was standing in a small living room, with two leather couches, a wooden coffee table, a bookcase that held more ornaments than books, and a massive television. This was where Trevor had relaxed at night. Maybe he’d planned his bad decisions here. But this wasn’t the office.

The doorway led out of the living room, and beyond it, Autumn glimpsed a wooden staircase. Since Marcus had said the office was at the back of the house, and that meant it must be upstairs.

She turned and pushed the window down again. Better to leave things as she’d found them for now. Then, unwrapping her jacket sleeves from her hands, she turned in the direction of the stairs.

The house felt eerily silent as she climbed the stairs, placing her weight gently on each tread because she didn’t want any unwanted creaks resounding out. Even so, she couldn’t hear a thing from upstairs. That meant the killer might already have covered his tracks, and she was too late, and that was going to be potentially devastating.

She hurried up the last few stairs. There was the office. It was a small, neat space, with a view over rooftops, with the lake in the distance, from the wide wooden desk. Breathing in, she smelled leather and furniture polish in this clean, impersonal space.

It didn't look disturbed at all, and that gave Autumn a flare of hope she hadn't had before. If she moved fast and looked in the right places, she might be able to achieve something she'd never expected.

She might be able to find the incriminating evidence before the killer arrived to destroy it.

That thought gave Autumn a heady sense of courage. She’d never believed she’d be in time. Where should she start? There was no sign of any computer anywhere. But the computer was where the records would be. He would have sent an angry email. That angry email would be what needed to be erased.

Where to find it? The neat wooden tray on the desk contained only a few papers. Mostly invoices. Given his atrocious behavior toward Willow, Autumn guessed that those were unpaid invoices. Maybe he had no intention of paying them.

She wiggled her fingers under her sleeve again before opening a desk drawer. The first one contained only pens, pencils, and a notepad. The second one held a few files, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She was sure this evidence would be recent, and digital. That was why the phone had been taken.

What about in the cupboard? Moving over to the wooden door, she opened it.

And there it was. A black laptop bag, sleek and firmly zipped, resting on the middle shelf. It was clearly not empty. She could see the bulk of the machine inside.

Now, how to open it?

There was no time for sleeves anymore. Unfortunately, she was going to have to get fingerprints all over this laptop. She’d just have to wipe them off afterward, but it would be worth it if she got the information she needed.

Autumn put the laptop on the desk, opened the lid, and sat down in Trevor Brewster’s chair, vaguely aware of the harbor view in the background, and a few old-style coffee posters on the wall. Trevor clearly lived alone. If she heard any other sound from inside, it was time to panic.

Now, in the meantime, how could she access this machine?

She pressed a key at random, biting her lip as the screen lit up.

“Password Needed”, it invited.

This was probably where her mission started and ended. Autumn was not great with IT related matters. In fact, she was hopeless. How could she hack a password? She needed sophisticated software, and skills she didn’t possess. This was like staring failure in the face before she’d even had the chance to succeed.

Unless she could figure out the password? Trevor also hadn’t seemed like the most IT savvy person. She had a vague memory of him, staring down at the work computer with a puzzled frown, and stabbing at keys with his index finger.

What about a simple password?

What about the most obvious one of all?

Carefully, using her index finger, Autumn typed in “Coffee”. With a sense of breathless expectation, she pressed the Enter key.

“Incorrect password,” the message flashed up, and she sighed in discouragement. That had been a hopeful moment.

But maybe, someone as egotistical as this barista clearly was, would have used a different word? Thinking again, she typed in “Trevor”, and pressed Enter.

To her astonishment, the screen refreshed, and she was looking at a desktop wallpaper of coffee beans, with a few icons in the background. She’d gotten in! How unbelievable. Now to see if her hunch was right.

He would have sent it via email, she was sure, so she navigated straight to the mail folder, and got that open. As she hunched over the machine, she could feel the tension in her shoulders, and her heart pounding, as she waited for it to open.

There it was. A couple of new mails pinged in. But what had been sent? Wishing her hand wasn’t shaking so much, because it was slowing her down, she navigated to the Sent Items folder, and stared at the mails, reading the most recent ones first.

There was one confirming an order of bread, there was another saying that the invoice would be paid on sixty days, and if they didn’t like it then they could consult his lawyer.

And there, third in line, was a mail entitled, “Termination of Contract”.

Was this the one she needed?

Clicking on it, Autumn read it carefully, taking in every word.

“Dear Sir. With immediate effect, we will be terminating our recently signed contract for you to be the sole supplier of coffee to The Local Brew. The reason for this termination is that I have found a cheaper supplier, and will be using them. It’s your fault for not giving my business a good deal. I did ask you for the best possible price when I initially signed with you. I do not wish to hear from you again, and should you want to take this further, I will refer you to my lawyer. Regards, Trevor Brewster.”

Recently signed, and then even more recently terminated? And for no good reason? That was ridiculous, Autumn thought. A contract would have stated price and terms. He’d reneged on it. But then, the supplier had also been at fault. If they had handled this professionally, then Trevor wouldn’t be dead now. Autumn could visualize what must have played out. The supplier, in town for the festival, must have arrived at Trevor’s shop in a temper, demanding that he adhere to the contract terms. Trevor had refused, one thing had led to another, and then, the killing blow had landed.

And then, to cover his tracks – because the email had said Dear Sir, so she knew it was a him – this killer had drenched the scene in olive oil, before fleeing. But he’d kept tabs on the situation, and hadn’t hesitated to try to take Autumn out. Nor would he flinch at killing Willow. He was doing whatever he needed to do.

And who was ‘he’?

She took a closer look at the email address, and gasped.

Carter@coffeeworld.com. She knew this man!

Carter had been at the festival, talking to Emily. He’d been one of those who had threatened Willow. This murder had come full circle now. Autumn jumped to her feet, her heart leaping into her mouth as she triaged what she needed to do next. But she didn’t get a chance to do any of it.

The sound of the window, being shoved upward, sounded in the empty house.

At the time when the street was quiet and the neighbors were at the festival, he’d come back, ready to cover his tracks.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Autumn dragged in a soundless gulp of air, and for a moment, it felt as if time froze. Paralyzed with tension, she felt as if a clock was ticking inexorably down, and that all she could do was wait for the inevitable. Carter was here, he'd come to cover his tracks, and she was in exactly the wrong place, with no hope of escape. She'd have to wait and accept the fact that she'd lost.

Then, that frantic moment dissipated, and urgency flooded in. She had mere moments to act! That was all!

Shoving the laptop's lid down, she put it back in its bag and slid the bag under the cabinet. It wasn't exactly out of sight, but it wasn't immediately obvious.

Now, she had to save herself. If he found her in this room, then he'd kill her with one blow of his fist. At any moment, she expected to see his solid form darkening the doorway. But he must still be downstairs.

Not for long. As she turned for the door, she heard footsteps on the stairs. He was coming up.

Mouth dry, palms sweating, Autumn tiptoed out of the office and ducked into the next room, breathing hard, just as the feet rounded the corner and headed up the second flight.

This was a starkly furnished spare bedroom. The window blinds were drawn. A single bed looked to have its dark gray coverlet ironed into place, and the small desk with the wooden chair in the corner of the room was bare.

Autumn flattened herself on the inside of the door, every muscle in her body quivering. Would he look in here? Or worse still, would Carter discover the laptop bag and take it away with him? Both scenarios were potentially disastrous.

The one thing she needed to do, though, was hide. She couldn’t face up to a solidly built coffee racketeer, who’d already killed one man in person, and had also shown himself resourceful enough to spike a drink and try to kill again to cover his tracks.

Be quiet, she urged herself, as the footsteps headed upstairs, but hesitantly. This killer didn't know the layout of Trevor's house. That was why he hadn't come up the stairs faster and trapped her in the office. Hopefully he stayed in the office. Then, maybe, she could sneak down, and call the police again, and call Ben, and start yelling for help.

The footsteps, heavy and purposeful, tramped into the office.

“Where is it? Damn you, you silly little man. I’m going to find this and I’m going to break it into pieces. Nobody will know what you sent me. It was ridiculous in any case. What a loser thing to do. You asked for this. The way you reneged on our contract, you were asking to get punched in the head. And to get punched again, hard, when you went down. I’d had enough of you, and I know how to handle these problems. Nobody does this to me and gets away with it. You didn't deserve to live after what you did to me.”

Trying not to breathe audibly, Autumn listened in horror. This man was a psychopath. Trevor couldn’t have known that he’d treated the one person badly who was taking actual glee in getting his revenge. It would be a deadly outcome if Carter saw her now. Hopefully, if she hid away, she had enough evidence to take him down. After all, she'd been here in the house and had overheard him. Her witness report would stand up. Wouldn't it?

Carter was starting to search frantically next door. Her heart sped up as she wondered what he'd do if he didn't find the laptop and if he thought it was somewhere else.

He might rampage through the whole top floor of the house, and she’d have to hide. Where could she hide that he wouldn’t look for a laptop? She was a lot bigger and easier to spot, and already, she was fearing that this would go really bad.

“He must have hidden it!” Thumps and thud resounded from next door. He was taking stuff off the shelves and flinging it on the floor. There was a scraping, indicating that he’d moved a large piece of furniture aside.

And then, a cry of triumph.

“There you are! Come here, come to me. I’ve got the phone and now I’ve got this. Everything will be erased, and it’s all I need.” Carter’s voice had changed from harsh and strident to a coo, as there was a soft sliding sound. That was the laptop bag coming out from where she’d shoved it. He’d gotten it.

Autumn tried her best to remember the words of the email, wishing that she'd done more at the time. She should have taken a screenshot or forwarded it to herself. There was so much she'd omitted to do, but even so, she was planning on taking this as far as she could, assuming she got out of here alive and unscathed.

Carter wasn’t waiting around, and clearly wasn’t planning on opening the laptop then and there. He was going to rush out, make a run for it, and pretend he’d never been here at all.

She could take a photo of him running out, if she angled her phone right, and caught a shot of him through the window! Inspiration struck, as Autumn groped in her pocket for her phone. Too little, too late, but at least it was something.

And then, she gasped in a horrified breath as she heard something she’d never, ever expected. There was another set of footsteps, light and fast, racing up the stairs in the direction of the office.

Who was this?

Autumn didn’t have long to wait before she found out.

In wrathful tones, Willow’s voice resounded through the top floor.

“Mr. Carter! I put the evidence together and figured out you'd be here. You murdered Trevor Brewster, didn't you? And you tried to kill my sister!"

Silence for a few beats, broken only by Carter’s harsh breathing.

“You think you’re so clever?” he said in menacing tones. “Maybe too clever. I’ll tell you now, you’re not walking out of this room alive. And nobody will trace this back to me. I’ll be gone!”

Autumn gasped. She had only moments to act, and if she didn’t come up with a coherent plan, then her loving, reckless sister Willow was going to be his next victim.

There was only one thing she could use, and that was the chair. Autumn grabbed it, feeling astounded at the way her own mindset had changed. When it was her own safety at stake, all she’d wanted to do was hide away. But with her sister’s life at risk? She had become a raging lioness.

Brandishing the chair, she raced from the room, her feet skidding on the floorboards as she rushed back into the office. Just in time to hear Willow shout, “Eeek!”

Carter, fist raised, was lunging in Willow’s direction. He had an expression of cold fury on his broad face, and the laptop tucked firmly under his other arm, ready for the getaway.

“You do not hit my sister!” As Willow shrieked again in surprise at her sudden appearance, Autumn charged toward Carter, yelling out the words.

Her surprise appearance had caused him to hesitate, and that lethal fist hadn't landed. Now, knowing there was only a moment to act, she raised the chair as high as she could get it, causing the ceiling light to bob and swing as a leg hit it. Then, she brought it down, aiming for the top of his short-haired head.

The blow caused him to stagger and recoil, but she didn’t manage to knock him out. He stumbled hard, but regained his balance, and now, as he glared at her, she saw madness in his eyes.

Autumn was no longer scared. A reckless bravery flooded her as she raised the chair again, getting it down too slowly as he charged. She’d hoped that a leg would collide with his head this time. Instead, he ran face-first into the descending seat. The impact was audible, and he recoiled with an outraged cry.

“Autumn! We need to take him down!”

Willow kicked out with her booted leg, stubbing her toe on the desk as she missed Carter completely.

“Ouch!” she yelled, hopping on one foot as she grabbed a paperweight from the desk, undeterred, and flung it at him. He ducked, and it caught him on the shoulder. Another angry cry erupted from the big man. Autumn had the distinct feeling that this was as risky as baiting an elephant. Neither she nor Willow had any training in a fight situation. She didn’t even know martial arts. All they were doing was hurting him slightly and making him madder, and any moment now, he was going to lunge forward, grab their necks, slam their heads together, and that would be the end of it.

Even so, she wasn’t going to give up. And with her sister’s survival at stake, she wasn’t running away.

Autumn stood her ground, raising the chair again as he charged at her with a yell, with the horrible feeling that he’d brush it aside as easily as a toothpick. But this time, Willow managed to get in his way.

With a warrior-like cry, Willow leaped forward, and her kick caught him directly on the knee.

A howl of enraged pain erupted from Carter’s mouth as he staggered sideways, bending over to grab his knee. Autumn took the opportunity to bring the chair down on his head again. It didn't have much effect other than to break the chair leg clean off. It was a flimsy chair, and he had an exceptionally hard head.

Undeterred, she raised it again, hoping to get another blow in before he recovered, but it caught on the light again, and this time, dropped down on her head as she lost her grip on it. Willow was dancing around, jumping from foot to foot, aiming to land another kick. She squeaked as Carter’s clutching hand grabbed at her jacket. Ripping it away from him, she tripped over the paperweight and fell backward with a cry.

Groping for the chair again, teeth gritted, Autumn was determined to launch a final attack and take him down. But she was all out of time, because Carter was lunging toward her, too fast and strongly for her to be able to defend herself.

Just as the situation seemed perilous, there was a massive bang from the downstairs window, and then more clattering footsteps sounded across the wooden floor of the home’s first floor.

Everyone froze.

“Where are they?” a man shouted.

Autumn felt a ray of hope she recognized the voice. Was that Warring?

For a moment, the only sound in the upstairs office was harsh breathing. She thought she saw a flash of panic in Carter’s eyes. And then came the welcome sound, the person she’d been hoping to hear.

“This way, officer! I’m sure they’re up here!”

It was Ben’s voice. He’d come to the rescue in the nick of time, just as she and Willow had been flagging, handicapped by their own lack of prowess as combat fighters.

“No! No, no, this can’t be happening,” Carter muttered, dropping the laptop and retreating to the back wall, as a familiar, bulky form darkened the door.

“Police! This is Officer Warring! Hands in the air, sir! Hands in the air. You are under arrest!”

EPILOGUE

Herbal tea wasn’t the drink Autumn would have chosen at this time. She’d so much rather have gone for a strong coffee. But she was determined to see her detox day through to the end, even though the highly stressful circumstances would have had anyone reaching for coffee or wine.

She and Ben were sitting in the small living room that adjoined her personal bedroom in Harbor View. Max was lying on the couch on Ben's side, his head lovingly nestled on Ben's leg. With his arm around Autumn, Ben was scratching Max's golden head with his other hand.

“I wish I’d gotten there sooner,” he said. “When I finally looked at my phone and realized where you were, I thought I’d better get the police there as soon as possible. It took several calls. As soon as I knew Warring was on his way, I rushed there.”

“You got there in the nick of time to help us.”

“I don’t know. I was pretty impressed by what you two were doing without any help at all.”

Autumn knew those intense moments of the fight would take a long time to fade from her memory. She remembered the fury in Carter’s face and the light in Willow's eyes as she'd fought him off. Willow had been a heroine, totally inept, but recklessly courageous. And that one lucky kick she’d landed had bought them enough time to save them.

After all the police interviews had wrapped up, she, Ben and Willow had gone out for dinner together – a celebratory pizza at a restaurant near the festival hall. It had been crowded and happy with people talking about the festival and discussing their favorite coffees, without even realizing that a killer had been arrested at the time. Autumn had felt pleased to hear Gavin’s name mentioned a few times. The blogger had made a name for himself during his judging and she hoped this was a stepping stone in his career. And everyone was talking about Jasmine’s baked goods.

“Who was that star baker who had the kiosk at the show?” was the question they were all asking.

From the conversation she'd overheard, Autumn had gathered that Lila Bean hadn't won the coffee brewing competition. It had been won by a young, up-and-coming challenger from Wisconsin. Oh, well, Autumn thought. Perhaps next year – and at least Lila knew she had the best hair.

They’d all raised a glass to celebrate their narrow escape – Willow and Ben had chosen champagne, while Autumn had opted for sparkling grape juice.

And now, after they’d seen her sister safely home, Ben had walked her home. The bed and breakfast was neat and tidy, all the guests were happily in their rooms, and Autumn felt at peace with the world. A dangerous killer had been arrested after she’d heard him confessing to his crime, and Magnolia Bay was safe from this violent coffee racketeer. He’d killed one person in anger, attempting to camouflage the scene and make it look accidental. He could easily have killed again.

“What a festival it was,” she said, snuggling into Ben’s shoulder. “I hope the next one isn’t quite as exciting.”

“It would be difficult for it to reach these levels,” Ben said wryly. Then, he sat up, so suddenly that both Max and Autumn jumped.

“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you,” he said.

“What?” Autumn asked, her nerves jangling again.

“I got a text as I left the festival and headed to Trevor’s house. It went right out of my mind with everything that happened after that, but it was about the coffee-tasting competition we entered.” Ben made an astonished face as he said, “I won it.”

"You – you what? You won it? You got all of those coffees, right? But that's amazing!" Autumn stared at him in total admiration.

“A couple were a lucky guess. But anyway, Autumn, I’d like you to have the coffee machine.”

“No, no.” Her face was turning crimson. “I can’t possibly accept that. Ben, it’s so kind of you, but that’s a really valuable machine. You must keep it. You earned it.”

He shook his head firmly. “It’ll look beautiful in your dining room. Harbor View is made for it. And actually – the only reason I entered the competition was to try to win it for you. As my girlfriend, and someone who’s very special to me, and who’s changed my life in wonderful and adventurous ways, please accept the gift.”

He leaned toward her, and all of Autumn’s strongly worded protests faded away, as his lips touched hers, and they kissed.

NOW AVAILABLE!

A MAGNOLIA BAY MYSTERY: THE FROZEN FIND

(A Magnolia Bay Cozy Mystery—Book 4)

When a journalist winds up dead after they discover Magnolia Bay’s secrets, Autumn must dive into the island's folklore to learn why knowledge became motive for murder. With the winter chill falling over her island, can she uncover the murderer before someone else faces the same frostbitten fate?

On the charming, historic isle of Magnolia Bay, Autumn Ray runs her bed-and-breakfast and enjoys a different pace of life. But whether she likes it or not, Autumn will have to step into the role of sleuth to defend not only her name, but her home.

MAGNOLIA BAY MYSTERY: THE FROZEN FIND is the fourth book in an exciting new cozy mystery series by Fiona Grace, #1 bestselling author of Murder in the Manor, which has over 10,000 five star reviews! The series begins with MAGNOLIA BAY MYSTERY: THE TAINTED TAFFY (Book #1).

The Magnolia Bay Mystery series offers an engaging and delightful cozy mystery experience, whisking you away to an idyllic scenery brimming with wit, romantic moments, and unexpected plot developments. Prepare to become enamored with a captivating new heroine who's sure to become a favorite.

Future books in the series will soon be available!

"Very entertaining. I highly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that appreciates a very well written mystery, with some twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!"

--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (regarding Murder in the Manor)

“The story line wasn't just a who done it, but had a story about her life and romance, including village life. Very entertaining.”

--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)

 “It has endearing and sometimes quirky characters, a plot that keeps you reading and the right amount of romance. I can’t wait to start book two!”

--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)

“What a great story of murder, romance, new beginnings, love, friend ships and a wonderful cascade of mystery.”

--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)

“This is a clean contemporary romance that you will find hard to put down!”

--Amazon reviewer (regarding Always, Forever)

“A bit of romance and a very determined woman! I have read many of Fiona Grace's novels and loved every one of them—this was no exception. I am looking forward to reading the rest of this new series!”

--Amazon reviewer (regarding Always, With You)

A MAGNOLIA BAY MYSTERY: THE FROZEN FIND

(A Magnolia Bay Cozy Mystery—Book 4)

Fiona Grace

Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising seven books; of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three books; of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the INN AT DUNE ISLAND ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the INN BY THE SEA ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the MAID AND THE MANSION COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the ALICE BLOOM COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the MAGNOLIA BAY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); of the TIMBERLAKE TITANS HOCKEY ROMANCE series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the ASHVILLE ACES HOCKEY ROMANCE series, comprising five books (and counting).

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BOOKS BY FIONA GRACE

ASHVILLE ACES HOCKEY ROMANCE

BREAKAWAY BLISS (Book #1)

ICY INTIMACY (Book #2)

FACEOFF FLING (Book #3)

RINK RENDEZVOUS (Book #4)

HOCKEY HEARTTHROB (Book #5)

TIMBERLAKE TITANS HOCKEY ROMANCE

RINKSIDE ROMANCE (Book #1)

FLIRTY FACEOFF (Book #2)

MELTING THE ICE (Book #3)

THE PUCK STOPS HERE (Book #4)

GLOVES DROP, LOVE BLOOMS (Book #5)

MAGNOLIA BAY COZY MYSTERY

THE TAINTED TAFFY (Book #1)

A MASKED MURDER (Book #2)

A CAFE CONFESSION (Book #3)

THE FROZEN FIND (Book #4)

A CURIOUS CURSE (Book #5)

THE MAID AND THE MANSION COZY MYSTERY

A MYSTERIOUS MURDER (Book #1)

A SCANDALOUS DEATH (Book #2)

A MISSING GUEST (Book #3)

AN UNSOLVABLE CRIME (Book #4)

AN IMPOSSIBLE HEIST (Book #5)

INN BY THE SEA ROMANTIC COMEDY

A NEW LOVE (Book #1)

A NEW CHANCE (Book #2)

A NEW HOME (Book #3)

A NEW LIFE (Book #4)

A NEW ME (Book #5)

THE INN AT DUNE ISLAND ROMANTIC COMEDY

A CHANCE LOVE (Book #1)

A CHANCE FALL (Book #2)

A CHANCE ROMANCE (Book #3)

A CHANCE CHRISTMAS (Book #4)

A CHANCE ENGAGEMENT (Book #5)

A CHANCE DREAM (Book #6)

A CHANCE WEDDING (Book #7)

ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY

ALWAYS, WITH YOU (Book #1)

ALWAYS, FOREVER (Book #2)

ALWAYS, PLUS ONE (Book #3)

ALWAYS, TOGETHER (Book #4)

ALWAYS, LIKE THIS (Book #5)

ALWAYS, FATED (Book #6)

ALWAYS, FOR LOVE (Book #7)

ALWAYS, JUST US (Book #8)

ALWAYS, IN LOVE (Book #9)

ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY

MURDER AT THE HEDGEROW (Book #1)

A DALLOP OF DEATH (Book #2)

CALAMITY AT THE BALL (Book #3)

A SPEAKEASY DEMISE (Book #4)

A FLAPPER FATALITY (Book #5)

BUMPED BY A DAME (Book #6)

A DOLL’S DEBACLE (Book #7)

A FELLA’S RUIN (Book #8)

A GAL’S OFFING (Book #9)

LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY

MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book#1)

DEATH AND A DOG (Book #2)

CRIME IN THE CAFE (Book #3)

VEXED ON A VISIT (Book #4)

KILLED WITH A KISS (Book #5)

PERISHED BY A PAINTING (Book #6)

SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7)

FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8)

CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9)

TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY

AGED FOR MURDER (Book #1)

AGED FOR DEATH (Book #2)

AGED FOR MAYHEM (Book #3)

AGED FOR SEDUCTION (Book #4)

AGED FOR VENGEANCE (Book #5)

AGED FOR ACRIMONY (Book #6)

AGED FOR MALICE (Book #7)

DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER (Book #1)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME (Book #2)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE (Book #1)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A MURDEROUS MACARON (Book #2)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A PERILOUS CAKE POP (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A DEADLY DANISH (Book #4)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A TREACHEROUS TART (Book #5)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A CALAMITOUS COOKIE (Book #6)

CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY

A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER (Book #1)

A VILLA IN SICILY: FIGS AND A CADAVER (Book #2)

A VILLA IN SICILY: VINO AND DEATH (Book #3)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CAPERS AND CALAMITY (Book #4)

A VILLA IN SICILY: ORANGE GROVES AND VENGEANCE (Book #5)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY (Book #6)

ALICE BLOOM COZY MYSTERY

MURDER IN THE MARIGOLDS (Book #1)

RUIN IN THE ROSES (Book #2)

DECEIT IN THE DAFFODILS (Book #3)

SCANDAL IN THE SAFFRON (Book #4)

CATASTROPHE IN THE CARNATIONS (Book #5)