Publishable By Death by Andi Cumbo-Floyd (reading like a writer TXT) 📖

gestured around the store. “We had to see this place. Plus, I missed you. You look good. Really good.”

I grinned. Stephen had been my closest friend at work back on the West Coast, and his husband, Walter, had become a friend, too. I was giddy that they were here. “Stephen, Walter, this is Daniel. He’s the town’s wizard of a mechanic. We were just going to grab some coffee. Join us?”

I both desperately wanted to sit down with my friends and catch up and to sit alone with Daniel and enjoy that cup of coffee. Behind Walter’s head, I could see Rocky grinning and realized that Daniel and I weren’t going to have a quiet moment no matter what. I threw him a glance, “You okay if they join us?”

“Of course,” he said as he bent down to let Mayhem and Taco off their leashes so that they could rush into the waiting arms of the two men who were far too excited to see them. Stephen and Walter were dog people, and these hounds knew it. The amount of squealing and wagging was extremely mutual.

Eventually, the pups took off to sniff and nap, and we headed into the café where Rocky had already prepared a large French press of coffee and put it with what had to be a secret stash of her mom’s cinnamon rolls – they had certainly been secret from me – on the larger table near the front window. She gave me a wink as she headed back to the counter.

“And that, my friends, is the extraordinary Rocky Chevalier. My right-hand woman and daughter of the best baker in town.”

Walter lifted a half-eaten cinnamon roll and said, “To Rocky and her mom” through a mouthful of bread.

We all joined suit, “To Rocky and her mom,” and raised our cinnamon rolls high. I caught a glimpse of a customer or two headed into the café then leaving with to-go containers holding Rocky’s mom’s delights. The cinnamon rolls spoke for themselves.

“Now, what are you two doing here?” I asked after taking a huge swig of the perfectly strong coffee. “I don’t even have your bed made yet.”

“Oh goodness, woman. Don’t worry about that. The real concern is if you have enough snacks for our Friday night movie binge. We have Get Out and Us to watch, you know?”

I laughed. “The house is always stocked with Cheese Doodles, Peanut Butter M&Ms, and mini Kit Kats. Anything else is available at our local Food Lion.”

“Peanut Butter M&Ms, huh? I’m in,” Daniel grinned. I felt Stephen kick me under the table just before the color flushed my cheeks.

“The more the merrier,” Stephen said as he winked at me. “I’m always happy to invite people over to other people’s homes.”

“Well, in that case,” Rocky chimed in from the counter, “Count me in, too. Those movies terrified me, and it was awesome.”

“Looks like we have a plan for Friday night then,” I said as I stole a glance at Daniel. He was looking right at me and smiling. I blushed again and then looked away quickly. “But really, why are you guys here early?”

“Mart told us the grand opening was amazing, and we had some extra vacation time stored up. We couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it than seeing our favorite bookshop owner and being by the brackish waters of the Chesapeake Bay.” Stephen squeezed my hand.

“Don’t let him fool you. He had to look up the body of water and the word brackish on the plane.” Walter slipped his arm around his husband’s shoulder and tugged. “Mostly, he just wanted to see you.”

I felt tears leap to my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I grabbed Walter’s hand, too, and squeezed.

We all sat quietly for a few minutes sipping our coffee, or in my case, refilling my mug, Then, Walter said, “So you’re the town mechanic? I hope it’s not insulting to say that I find that quaint in the best way.”

Daniel laughed. “Not insulting at all. A lot of things here in St. Marin’s are pretty quaint. Of course, quaint can also be a synonym for claustrophobic, but mostly, it’s just nice. I grew up in a big city, so I love knowing my neighbors and their pets. It makes me feel at home, I guess.”

“You grew up in a big city?” I was surprised, but I didn’t know why. I knew nothing about this man, and despite popular belief held by a lot of urban dwellers, you can’t spot a country person by the hay sticking out of their mouth or the gun rack in their pick-up truck. Daniel just seemed like he fit so well here, and he knew everyone.

“Yep. Chicago. But it wasn’t for me. Too fast. Too many people. Too much traffic.”

“You’d think that lots of cars would be good for a mechanic?” Stephen quipped.

“You would. But not for me. I like knowing the people who come to my shop. After all, a car is like a family member. It needs to be cared for well and regularly. A lot of folks in Chicago who drive are commuters, so they take their cars to garages in the suburbs. I knew I needed a smaller place.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “But why St. Marin’s?”

“Would you believe I was sailing around the world after high school and ended up here?”

“No way.” I tried to keep my mouth from hanging open.

“Oh, I didn’t say I did that, just asked if you’d believe I did. I have my answer.” He bumped my arm with his elbow. “Did you know that gullible isn’t in the dictionary?”

I bumped him back and hung my head with embarrassment. I couldn’t help smiling though. This guy was funny. Stephen kicked me under the table again.

“Actually, I came this way to go to Salisbury on a baseball scholarship, but it turns out that college isn’t really for me. I’m much more of a hands-on guy.”

Just then, Marcus came in from the back of the store. I had totally forgotten he was here, and from the looks of him, he’d worked straight through lunch and everything. “College wasn’t really for me either,” he said as I handed him a tall glass of ice water. “The dorms were what got to me . . . another person I don’t know all up in my stuff? Nah.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I had this one roommate. She’d go to bed every night at eight and play some sort of flute music for hours at full blast. If I never hear a flute again, it’ll be too soon.”

Marcus laughed. “So, Ms. Beckett, we’re all set. I cleaned up all the weeds and picked up a bunch of trash, too. I left a couple of piles by the corner of the building, but if you’ll tell me where you want them, I’ll—”

“Marcus, you have done more than enough.” I headed toward the register. “Let me pay you, and you can go get a shower and head out for the rest of your day.”

I saw him wince, but chalked it up to the aches and pains of hard labor. “Thanks, Mrs. Beckett. I appreciate it.” He waved at everyone and then took his skateboard out the door.

“Nice kid,” Stephen said.

“Hard worker, too. I hope I can give him more work soon. It’s hard to find a job these days without a college degree.”

“Yep, even back in my day – back in the dark ages – it was hard,” Walter said. “I fought my way through college, but I hated it. It was just really not ideal for me, and I don’t remember anything from any of my classes. Put me on a construction site, though, and I am in my element.”

“You work construction then?” Daniel asked, and I applauded his sincerity. Walter was tall, lean, very well dressed, and had hands soft as a baby’s bottom. He did not look like the stereotype of a construction worker at all.

“I did. For about fifteen years. Steel worker. But then, they figured out I was good with planning and people, so I moved into management.”

“Walter is being modest. He owns one of the biggest commercial construction companies in California.” I loved bragging about my friends.

“That’s amazing,” Daniel said with a huge smile. “There’s nothing like the freedom – and the stress – of owning your own business.”

“You know it,” Walter smiled at Daniel, and then I felt his foot nudge mine. Anymore footsie under this table, and we’d need a soccer ball.

“But you know what we need to know, right? Tell us about this person who was killed here. Are you okay?” Stephen asked.

I had almost forgotten about Stevensmith’s murder. Between my ever-growing crush on Daniel and the arrival of my two friends, I had been totally distracted for thirty minutes. Remembering felt like a huge thud in my day. Still, pretending it hadn’t happened wouldn’t make the fact disappear, so I caught my friends up all the way through the orange piece of paper and Divina Stevensmith’s strange and emphatic feelings about the color orange.

“I thought so,” Stephen gave Walter a look. “She’s sleuthing.”

I tried to avoid eye contact, but Stephen grabbed my chin and turned my face toward him. “You can’t help it, can you?”

“I’m just asking a few questions. Nothing major.”

“I thought Sheriff Mason was investigating pretty seriously.” Daniel’s voice sounded concerned.

“Oh, he is. He is. I guess I’m just curious by nature.”

“Better than naughty,” Walter said almost under his breath before his eyes got wide. “Oh my goodness, did I say that out loud?”

I blushed for the kabillionth time this morning. “Anyway. No big deal. I haven’t found anything anyway.”

“Well, not yet, but we do need to talk to Max Davies pronto.”

Daniel stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Be