Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse (A Cape Bay Cafe Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

T
he morning was still
cool as I stepped out of the café and headed toward the beach. I breathed the salt air deep into my lungs. Even though I’d grown up there and preferred to take my vacations in the mountains, far away from the seaside, I understood why people came. There was something restorative about the sea breezes. Standing at the edge of the world, the water swirling around your feet and inching you deeper into the sand, while staring off at the expanse of the ocean is grounding. Some people said it made them feel small, but it didn’t do that for me. It made me feel a part of something big.

I pulled the legs of my jeans up toward my knee. One advantage of the skin-tight cigarette-style jeans that were in style was that they had a lot of stretch. I kicked off my shoes and carried them as I crossed the dune and stepped onto the sand. I smiled at the feeling of fine grains between my toes. I couldn’t believe I’d been home for so long and hadn’t come down to the beach.

I walked to the water’s edge and let the waves wash over my feet. They was cold, but I held my ground. The water was always cold there—not like some of the beaches farther south that my college friends had visited for spring break. Those had always felt like bathwater to me.

I pulled my feet out of the sand and walked a little farther so that the water came up around my calves when the waves came in. I was one of the few people out there at that in-between hour. The people who came out to watch the sunrise had gone home, and the families wanting to play on the beach wouldn’t be out for a while yet. It was just me, some seashell searchers, and a few fishermen reclining on chairs, their lines cast deep into the water. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in a long time.

I stood in the water for a while until the incoming tide threatened to soak my pants. I walked back a few yards and sat in the sand. I could always brush off my pants later or, if that proved too difficult, walk home and change. I watched the ocean change colors as the sun inched up in the sky. When the first tourists appeared on the beach, the family patriarchs weighed down with beach chairs and coolers and umbrellas and sand toys and more beach paraphernalia that I didn’t know how they managed to carry, I decided it was time to head back to town and my investigation.

I made my way up off the beach and rinsed my feet at the spigot on the other side of the dune. When I felt as though I was sufficiently de-beached, I pulled the legs of my jeans back down and slid my shoes back on my feet. I walked up to the drugstore to get a less obtrusive notebook. I found a little spiral-bound one like Mike’s. I figured if it was small and portable enough for him, it was small and portable enough for me. I picked up a two-pack of pens too. Purchases in hand, I headed back out on the street. I checked the time. The cell phone shop was probably open, so I walked up in that direction. When I came to the block where the barbershop and the cell phone store were, I stopped and stood at the corner for a few minutes.

Matty and Mr. Cardosi were right—the signs on the front of the store were incredibly tacky. They were bright yellow and red, with giant print and lots of exclamation points. “Cell Phone Accessories!!!” they screamed. “Lowest prices in town!!!!!” “Styles You Can’t Find Anywhere Else!!!!” It was pretty obnoxious.

I decided to pretend I was in the market for a new cell phone case. I figured it was better not to start asking questions right away. Let him think I was just some random person coming in to look around and chit-chat a bit.

I walked down the street slowly, looking in all the shops as though I was just out doing some window shopping. I got up to the barbershop then looked across the street at the cell phone store. I made a beeline across the street, thinking that if anyone saw me, they’d assume I just really wanted a new cell phone case. I pushed open the door to the sound of a loud, annoying electronic jangle. Rock music played over the speaker system. Not exactly what I thought of when I thought about customer-friendly music, but if it worked for them, who was I to judge?

“I’ll be out in a sec!” a voice called from the back.

I looked around at the displays. I had to hand it to Mr. Cardosi—he hadn’t been wrong. A lot of the cases were pretty tacky. They looked like something only a teenager would buy. And a teenager with poor taste at that.

“What’s up?” the owner of the voice said as he emerged from the back.

What’s up?
Who greets a customer with “What’s up?” But instead of asking him what was wrong with him, I turned toward him with a smile. “Hi!”

When he actually looked at me, he grinned. “Well, hello there! Haven’t seen you around here before!”

I shrugged. “Kinda new in town.” That wasn’t really a lie. I had only come back recently.

“Oh well, let me be the first to welcome you,” he said, strolling up to me.

“I’m not
that
new.” If he thought I’d just gotten there that week, my plan wouldn’t work.

“One of the first then.” He smirked.

I put on the most genuine smile I could. “Well, thank you.”

He stepped around me and leaned against the display so he was looking at me straight on. He gave off a major sleazy salesman vibe while at the same time being completely unprofessional. His blond hair was slicked back with way more gel than was necessary, and he had a permanent smirk. His teeth were way too white in his darkly tanned face, and his clothes screamed former prep school boy.

“So where’d you move here from…” He implicitly invited me to give him my name.

“Francesca. And New York. I moved here from New York.” I extended my hand to shake.

“Well, hello,
Francesca
,” he said, taking my hand. His hand was clammy, and he held on much longer than he needed to.

After what I felt was a sufficiently polite amount of time, I withdrew my hand and tried to subtly wipe his sweat off on my jeans.

“I’m Chris. Chris Tompson. New York, eh?” he went on. “What brought you to sleepy Cape Bay from the big city?”

I tried to think fast. If I didn’t tell him I ran Antonia’s and he found out later, he’d know I’d been playing him. But if I told him, he might figure out that I wasn’t all that new in town. Best to just sidestep the issue and hope it didn’t come back to bite me. Once I got the information I needed, it wouldn’t much matter if he knew I’d stretched the truth.

“Slower pace of life.” I smiled. “You know, New York is so busy and hectic. I just wanted to be able to kick back and relax a little. Not stress so much. You hear so many stories about people who work hard their whole lives and by the time they finally get to retire, they’re too old to appreciate it. So I thought I’d go ahead and enjoy the good life while I could!” That might have been a longer speech than I really needed to make, but my new buddy Chris didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, we’re definitely glad to have you. Are you liking it so far?”

“Yeah!” I nodded. “It’s really cute here!”

“Great! That’s great! How’s your cell phone working here? You know, different phones work differently in different areas. A lot of people think they need a new carrier when they go to a new area, but sometimes all it takes is a new phone. Then you don’t have to worry about a new billing system or anything. I have some right over here if you want to take a look. I sell phones for all the major carriers, and I can get you set up right here, right now if you want.”

He led me over to the display case under the register. He had about three mid-range phones for each carrier, and not even the phone most people would actually want.

“I don’t know,” I said reluctantly. “My phone works pretty well. I think I just want a new case for it.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It had an understated black case that blended in with the phone. It suited me and my style, but for the sake of my investigation, I would get one of the monstrosities Chris was peddling.

He took the phone from my hand and turned it back and forth. He looked almost as disgusted by my black case as I was by his multi-colored ones. “A case like this does
not
suit a pretty girl like you. Let me show you some that you’ll like better.”

That I’ll like better?
I scoffed to myself.
Because I didn’t pick that one out in the first place or anything.
But I smiled. “Sure!”

He led me to a wall full of hot pink cell phone cases decorated with flowers and hearts and glitter. They made me gag a little. I was a thirty-four-year-old woman, not a twelve-year-old girl.

“See, aren’t these more your style?” he asked.

I smiled tightly. “Yeah, they’re much cheerier.” At least that was true.

We looked through the cases for a few minutes, him explaining the relative merits of each of them to me. Like the phones, the cases weren’t the top of the line, and I knew they wouldn’t do much to protect my phone from drops and spills as he said they would. I eventually picked out a case with a large-scale floral print that I could claim vaguely reminded me of a Pucci print. As we went over to the register, I started to worry that I’d dealt with Chris’s slime and the ugly phone cases without finding a way to work Mr. Cardosi into the conversation.

Chris insisted on putting the new case on my phone for me. “I can get rid of this old one for you,” he said, pulling it across the counter toward himself.

I had paid a pretty penny for that case, and I didn’t doubt for a second that he would try to resell it online. “Oh no, I’ll keep it. You know, in case I break this one somehow.” I giggled for good measure. “I’m such a klutz sometimes!”

“Customer’s always right,” he said, not really sounding like he meant it.

I took my bag with the new case’s packaging in it and turned toward the door. The barbershop was directly in my line of sight, and I saw how to bring Mr. Cardosi up. “Oh!” I said, turning back around.

Chris was right in my face, and he didn’t seem to have noticed that I had started speaking. “So, Francesca, since you’re new in town, maybe I could take you out sometime and show you around. You know, show you the good places to eat, the best place to get a cup of coffee, where the movie theatre is…”

As if I didn’t know the best place to get a cup of coffee. “Um, I don’t know.” He was uncomfortably close, and I stepped backward. “You know, I’m still just getting settled here and—”

He moved in closer again. “That’s exactly why you should let me take you out. I can help you get acquainted with the town!”

“Um, I don’t—I don’t—” I glanced out the front window at the barbershop. Distraction would be my technique. “Hey, isn’t that the shop where the barber who just died worked?”

Chris looked across the street. I used the opportunity to step away again.

“Yeah, that’s the place.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“He was just a grouchy old man. I mean, I’m not saying he had it coming, but as angry as that man was, I’m not surprised he pissed someone off enough to murder him.”

That was a nauseating statement, especially since Chris was laughing as he said it, but the fact that he knew Mr. Cardosi had been murdered meant that I really needed to ask some more questions.

“He was murdered?” I gasped.

“Oh yeah, you didn’t hear?” He sounded excited. “It’s all over town. But I guess since you’re new here…”

“Do they know who did it?”

“No, not yet,” he said. “But it could be anybody. Seriously, dude was
angry
. He was always yelling about something or other. I’d see him outside his store screaming at his customers, telling them to never come back. Now me, I want to make my customers feel special so they want to come back.” He gave me a slimy smile, as if he needed to make it more clear that he was coming on to me. When I didn’t react, he went back to talking about Mr. Cardosi.

“He came in here once, like a month ago, to buy a phone. The one he had was so old, it still had an
antenna
. I mean, come on, the thing was from, like, the nineties! Anyway, he was in here looking at the new touch screens, and forget apps, he couldn’t even make a phone call with one! He kept asking where the keypad was and how he was supposed to dial anybody. It made him
so
angry, but it was so funny! He just kept poking at it, and every time he’d get close to getting it to do what he wanted, he’d end up hitting the home button or the power button or the volume, then he’d freak out even more. Dude finally just threw the phone on the counter and stormed out. ‘I’m taking my business elsewhere!’” Chris said in an impression of Mr. Cardosi.

That was the second Mr. Cardosi impression I’d heard that morning, and I preferred Matty’s. Matty’s was affectionate. Chris’s was just…
rude
.

“I laughed about it for
days
!” he added.

He was still laughing about it. I knew Mr. Cardosi’s fits could be comical, but it seemed wrong to laugh about it now that he was dead. Even if I would have considered going out with Chris before, which I wouldn’t have, I really wouldn’t now. Chris’s diatribe had put a bad taste in my mouth, but it had given me the tidbit that Mr. Cardosi had been looking for a new, more modern phone. Maybe that was something useful.

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” I said tersely. I was more than ready to get out of there. I looked at my phone briefly. “Oh, look at the time! I really need to get going!” I made for the door.

“What about that date?” Chris asked as I hurried past him.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” I said, nearly out the door.

“But why not?” Chris called.

“Oh, just, um…” I glanced around the street. “You’re not really my type.” I took off down the sidewalk.

I
hurried
down the sidewalk and turned the corner at the end of the block. I didn’t know if Chris was watching me walk away—I wasn’t about to turn around and look back—but if he was, I wanted to be out of his view as soon as possible. I paused just around the corner to see if I could hear footsteps following me. I couldn’t, but I didn’t know how likely it was that I would actually be able to hear someone behind me. People always could in the movies, but this was real life, not the latest blockbuster thriller.

I walked for a few more blocks, turning at every corner just in case someone was tailing me. I figured if I was going to investigate Mr. Cardosi’s death, I may as well have fun with it. When I arrived at one of the town parks, I made my way to a bench and sat down to text Matty. I assumed he was at work, but I thought I could go ahead and see if he wanted to get together that evening to discuss the case a little more.

I leaned back against the bench to relax while I waited for his response. I wasn’t sure if he would be able to respond quickly or not, or if I even merited an immediate response in his book. I gazed around the park. It was one of those cute old parks with a collection of concrete chess tables. My grandfather used to take me there when I was growing up to play chess, but he’d made me practice at home for a long time before he’d let me go to the park and play with his buddies. A scattering of older men were at the chess tables, paired up in competition. A few of them seemed especially serious about it, hitting their chess timers between each move, but most of them were playing more leisurely, seemingly more interested in debating world events than in defeating their opponents.

Hardly a minute later, my phone buzzed. I was pleasantly surprised that Matty had gotten back to me so quickly. He agreed to have a late dinner with me that night after I closed the café. That reminded me I needed to get to work soon. I glanced at the time. I still had a little while. I considered lingering in the park for a while, but then it occurred to me that I also wanted to talk to Mrs. Collins and see if she had any other clues. If I left right away, I could make it back to my neighborhood to talk to her for a little while and still make it to work on time. I might be just a little late, but Sammy would forgive me.

I stood and headed to my street. It wasn’t a long walk if you knew the back way. It was counterintuitive, but if I walked through the back of the park, went down the set of stairs in the side of the hill, and took the path around the little pond, I’d pop out just two streets down from my house. I moved quickly, waving at a few of the chess players I recognized as I passed. In no time at all, I was at Mrs. Collins’s door.

She didn’t have a bell, so I used the heavy, ornate door knocker. There was no answer for quite a while, and I couldn’t hear any movement inside the house despite practically putting my ear right up against the door. I was just about to knock again when the door swung open.

Mrs. Collins stood there, her hair done up just so, her lips painted red, her blouse and slacks immaculately pressed. She would have fit in with the finest New York socialites, but that seemed typical of the older generation—they always wanted to look nice, even if they would just be sitting around the house all day. Sometimes I wished my generation had the same attitude, even if I did enjoy being comfortable. She made me feel woefully underdressed, despite the designer labels inside my jeans and black T-shirt. I might have fit in in a New York City office, but I would have looked positively slovenly next to the residents in the Cape Bay retirement home.

“Well, hello, Francesca dear!” Mrs. Collins said warmly, taking my hand in both of hers. “I’ve just put the kettle on if you’d like to come in for a cup of tea. I’m sorry, I don’t keep coffee in the house—I know that’s what you’d prefer.”

I wondered if putting the kettle on for whoever was at the door was what had taken her so long to answer. I smiled at her warmly. “I’d love that, Mrs. Collins!”

“Well, come on in, dearie!” She stepped aside for me.

Like her, her house was impressively tidy and pulled together. “Neat as a pin,” my grandmother would have said.

Mrs. Collins shut the door and shuffled past me down the hall. “If you don’t mind, we’ll sit in the kitchen. It’s difficult for me to carry the tea set into the sitting room anymore.”

“Of course!” I said politely.

We walked down the hall and into the brightly lit kitchen.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.

“No, no, dear, it’ll just be a minute,” she replied.

She certainly was fond of calling me “dear.” As I sat at the table, it occurred to me that she hadn’t yet inquired as to the reason for my visit. She must have just been so happy to have a visitor that she didn’t care about the reason for their arrival. I watched her move around the kitchen, gathering tea cups and sugar and tea bags. She arranged it all neatly on a silver tea tray even though we would just be sitting at the table. When the kettle whistled, she added it to the tray and shuffled over to the table, dismissing my continued offers of assistance. She carefully poured tea for each of us and took a sip before speaking.

“So, Francesca, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

I decided to plead a need for commiseration. I sighed deeply. “Well, Mrs. Collins, you know, Mr. Cardosi’s death has just been weighing on me. I know you said on the day he…” I paused for effect. “The day he passed away that you’d spent a lot of time with him, so I felt like you, of all people, would be able to chat with me about him.”

“Oh yes, dear. So sad, isn’t it? And him so young yet.”

I hadn’t really thought of Mr. Cardosi as
young
, but I supposed if you were pushing eighty, as Mrs. Collins was, Mr. Cardosi’s late sixties did seem rather youthful.

I nodded. “You were close to him?” Chris the Cell Phone Guy had shared freely after just a simple question, and I hoped that technique would work similarly well with Mrs. Collins.

“I was! That’s why it’s been so hard for me. You know, so many of my friends are passing now. Your mother, then Gino Cardosi. And death comes in threes, you know. I just keep waiting for who will be next.” She shook her head sadly.

I looked at her sympathetically. I wished she hadn’t mentioned my mother, but I supposed it had been a bad couple of months for our block, and she was entitled to be sad about it too.

As I’d hoped, she continued talking after a brief pause. “You know, lately, I’d been going over in the evenings to help Gino practice courting a lady.” The shock must have shown on my face because Mrs. Collins rushed to continue. “Oh no, no, no, dear. He wasn’t courting
me
. It was someone else—he wouldn’t tell me who. But he hadn’t dated anyone since his Carolina—that was Matteo’s mother—passed away twenty-five years ago, and he was dreadfully out of practice. We just went over basic things—pulling a chair out for a lady, helping her with her coat, how to not make a mess of himself when eating spaghetti Bolognese. I helped him pick out some outfits to wear out to dinner with her that made him look like the respectable businessman he was.”

I got the feeling from the way Mrs. Collins was talking that she wished she really had been the one Mr. Cardosi was courting—if he was actually courting anyone at all. I reminded myself of Mrs. Collins’s tendency to exaggerate and Matty’s confidence that his dad was largely a loner. It seemed entirely possible that Mrs. Collins had invited herself over to Mr. Cardosi’s with the intention of making him over as a suitor for herself, or some other watered-down version of what she had told me. But then something she said caught my attention.

“Apparently the lady he was seeing, despite being a more mature woman like myself, was quite technological. She wanted to be able to—oh, what is it you young people call that? When you type to each other on your phones?”

“Text?” I prompted.

“Yes! Text! Apparently she wanted to be able to text messages to Gino, but his cell phone didn’t do that, and he wanted to get a new one that would let him do that. He went to that awful place across from his barbershop, but the young man who works there was quite rude to him. Gino didn’t buy anything.”

So maybe there was something to Mrs. Collins’s story after all. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized I needed to get to the coffee shop. I swallowed the rest of my tea. “Mrs. Collins, I’ve had such a lovely time with you, but I need to get to work. Thank you for the tea.” I rose from my chair so she wouldn’t be able to delay me by starting more stories.

She sighed and put everything back on the tea tray. “Well, I do appreciate you coming, dear. You know you’re welcome here any time. Watching you grow up was always such a joy. You know, Mr. Collins and I were never able to have children, so having you across the street was almost like having one of our own grandchildren there.”

I stopped and looked at her. I had never known that she felt that way. I gave her a hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Collins. That’s so sweet of you.” When I pulled away, I thought I saw tears in her eyes. After being home for over a month, I was finally realizing how deep my roots ran in this town.

“Well, dear, it’s the truth.”

I smiled and noticed the tea tray on the table. “Let me carry that over to the sink for you.” I put the rest of the dishes on the tray and carried it to the counter so she wouldn’t have to. I gave her one more hug and hurried off to the café.