Cafe Latte (A Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery Book 6) Read online

  CAFÉ LATTE

  A Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery

  Volume 6

  ML Hamilton

  www.authormlhamilton.net

  Café Latte

  © 2020 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  First Print

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  To all my readers, I know how hard this time is for everyone, the fear and confusion, but I hope this book will give you a few hours of escape.

  “Coffee first. Schemes later.”

  ~ Leanna Renee Hieber

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  Z ion turned off the vacuum cleaner and started winding up the cord. It sure was a lot faster cleaning up the Half Caf than it was cleaning the Caffeinator. She heard voices coming from the back door and eased over to look down the hallway. The door was open and she could see the forest in the distance.

  Glancing around, she realized Zephyr had never come back from taking out the trash. As she moved down the hallway, she marked that the shadows were getting long, spilling across the parking lot. Summer in Sequoia was her favorite season. The temperature never got above 85 and the sun didn’t set until well after 9:00. Even at 6:00, the air was still warm, pleasant, and the smell of pines wafted through the open doorway.

  As she eased to the opening, peering out, she realized she didn’t recognize the male voice she heard. It was deep and gravelly, fading away into unintelligible words. Zephyr’s voice was light and breezy, always sounding like she carried a smile everywhere she went.

  Zion had rarely seen a girl as upbeat and pleasant as Zephyr O’Malley. She’d become a necessary addition to Zion’s Caffeinator family, and she relied on her to run the Half Caf almost single-handedly. With Evie off working for the mayor’s office and Tallah only coming in after school, the Half Caf would most likely have closed if Zephyr hadn’t been there to handle everything with calm efficiency.

  Peering around the corner of the building, she saw Zephyr holding out a pastry box to a ragged man wearing torn and dirty jeans and a t-shirt with a frayed bottom. He had a rucksack leaning against his leg.

  “Go ahead and take it. You know there’s nothing gonna hurt you in here,” said Zephyr.

  The man reached for it, his hands shaking. “You better watch yourself, girl. They got cameras everywhere and they record everything. They can’t breathe our air. They can’t breathe it. It burns their lungs.” He yanked his hands back from the box and reached for a strand of lank, dirty brown hair, twisting it around his index finger.

  “Look,” said Zephyr, opening the box.

  Zion recognized the pastries in the box as their day-old leftovers that they wound up throwing away if they couldn’t sell them for half-price.

  “It’s just a croissant and some blueberry muffins. Please take it. It’s for you.”

  He reached for it again, this time curling his hands around the box. He took a muffin out and shoved half of it in his mouth. “They’re watching. They have cameras in the forest. Look up in the trees and you’ll see them.” He pointed his finger at her, chewing vigorously while he talked. “You watch yourself. You never know when they might take you. They can’t breathe our air. They can’t breathe it.” He put his hand over his mouth, splaying his fingers across his cheekbones. “They have masks. They breathe through masks.”

  “I know,” said Zephyr gently. “I know.” She took a bottled water out of her apron and passed it to him. “You need to make sure you drink enough water.”

  He looked at the water with suspicion. “They drug the water. That’s how they get you.”

  “Not this water. I bought this water myself. I know there’s no drugs in it.”

  He shook his head, but he took the water. “They can’t breathe our air. They wear masks and you can’t see their eyes.” He pointed to his own eyes with the water bottle. “You can’t see their eyes. Never trust them if they don’t have eyes.”

  Zephyr nodded. “I’ll be careful,” she said, then she turned to head back toward the Half Caf.

  Zion stepped back, hurrying down the hallway. She didn’t want Zephyr to know she was watching her, but it concerned her that the girl wasn’t being more careful. She didn’t begrudge the man their day-old pastries or the water, but he was clearly not mentally well and Zion worried Zephyr’s trusting nature might make her vulnerable.

  Zephyr hesitated as she entered the Half Caf, giving Zion a sideways look. Zion decided she needed to say something, but Zephyr took a couple of dollars from her apron and placed them in the register. “I always pay for what I take,” she told Zion. “I swear to you.”

  “You don’t have to pay for it,” Zion said. “I hate throwing the food away. If it’s going to help someone, I’m all for it.”

  Zephyr gave her a grateful smile. “I thought you might be mad.”

  “Mad? No. Concerned? Yes. I hope you’re careful.”

  “Around Alvin? He’s harmless.”

  “He might be harmless…”

  “No, I know he is. I’ve known him for years.”

  Zion frowned. “How? Zephyr, the man clearly has schizophrenia.”

  Zephyr nodded. “And PTSD. He was in the military. He served in Afghanistan.”

  “I understand. And I understand why you want to help him.”

  Zephyr shook her head. “But you don’t, and that’s not your fault, but I know Alvin would never hurt me.”

  “How? How can you know that?”

  Zephyr gave her a grim look. “Because he’s my uncle.”

  Zion removed the bills from the register and handed them back to Zephyr. “Then whatever we have left over, feel free to give it to him.

  Zephyr smiled at Zion, clasping her hands. “Thank you, Zion. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but I really appreciate what you do here, Zephyr. You’re a really good employee and an even better person.” She looked around at the clean space. “Now let’s head home.”

  “Sounds good,” said Zephyr, bouncing off to finish the close-up.

  * * *

  “I tell you, Zion, this Greenwood Fest is going to be the death of me,” said Rebekah, pouring herself a glass of wine and carrying it over to the kitchen table. She pulled out the chair and stopped, staring down at the seat. “What is this?” she said with a dramatic shudder.

  Zion glanced over from where she was tossing a salad and saw Rebekah giving the evil eye to a baseball cap that said Hammer Tyme on it. “It’s probably Logan’s. He had breakfast here this morning.”

  Zion loved her best friend, Rebekah, but there were times when her pretentiousness warred with Zion’s new laid-back persona. When they had both been working for the insurance company in San Francis
co, Zion had bought into the City’s progressive, urban lifestyle. She’d dyed her bright red hair auburn, had it chemically straightened, wore the latest designers, and tried to hide her freckles with makeup, but since coming to Sequoia, she’d dropped a lot of those trappings and she enjoyed this much simpler life. Rebekah had also left the City, but instead of adapting to a new normal, she tried to bring the City into the forest. It didn’t always work so well.

  Rebekah narrowed her eyes on Zion. “I thought he was living in Hardware Man’s house with your folks.”

  “He is, but as you know, they’re on a road trip with the Rusty Buckets, so he comes over here for his meals.”

  “Isn’t he grown yet?” she said, not sitting down.

  Zion set down the salad tongs and walked over, picking up the ball cap and carrying it into the living room. She placed it on the end table by the front door. “Seriously, Becks, you act as if it has cooties or something.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Rebekah said, finally taking a seat and sipping at her wine.

  “He’s only eighteen, Becks. He still needs some guidance and care. He graduates on Friday. Are you coming to the graduation?”

  Rebekah looked at her over her glass. “Are you serious right now?”

  Zion laughed, carrying the salad to the table. “Apparently it’s a big deal. All of Sequoia goes to the graduation, even if they don’t have a kid graduating. It’s not like the class is huge. I think there are only 48 students in Logan’s class.”

  Rebekah made a face, reaching into the salad bowl and plucking out a cucumber. “I don’t believe I’ll be there. I’m not interested in seeing a bunch of pimply teenagers getting a diploma so they can drive tractors or something.”

  “Wow!” said Zion, setting the salad dressing beside the bowl. “You sound so elitist right now.”

  “I am what I am, sister,” she said, draining her glass. “Bring the wine to the table.”

  Zion gathered the wine bottle and the cutting board with the sliced French loaf on it. She set both on the table and shooed her cat Cleo off the chair. Cleo protested, then flounced into the living room, glaring over her shoulder. Zion watched her, thinking her best friend and her cat had a whole lot in common.

  “David will be at the graduation.”

  “My David?” asked Rebekah, laying a perfectly manicured hand against her chest. “Why ever for?”

  Zion began dishing up the food. “Because his law firm gives the valedictorian and salutatorian a scholarship to the college of their choice.”

  “Is there a valedictorian or a salutatorian?”

  Zion passed Rebekah the bowl. “That’s enough. You know there is.”

  Rebekah laughed, reaching for the dressing. “Where’s Hardware Man?”

  “He’s getting pizza and beer with Daryl and Jaguar at the Slice & Dice.”

  Rebekah tilted her head. “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “David doesn’t go out with his bros.” She said the word bros as if it were foul.

  “Well, that’s probably because David doesn’t have bros.”

  “David doesn’t need bros. He has me.”

  Zion gave her a level look. “That’s ridiculous. You and I get together. You’re kinda like my bro.”

  “You’re my sister. That’s different. I don’t believe in all this male bonding. What in the world could they possibly be doing?”

  Zion shrugged, dishing up her own bowl. “Playing pool or darts and watching sports.”

  “Burping and catcalling women.”

  “I don’t think Tate catcalls women,” said Zion, grabbing a slice of bread.

  “Jaguar certainly does.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Let’s talk about Greenwood Fest.”

  “It’s killing me,” moaned Rebekah, her shoulders slumping. “I’m gonna need more wine for that.” She held out her glass and Zion refilled it. “That Marvin Shine is always in my face about the anti-drug messaging. The mayor has pretty much given up on it. She’s so worried about her idiot husband going to the big house for murder.”

  “He is going to the big house for murder,” said Zion. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

  “Well, what is she going to do about it? I mean, David’s representing him. It’s not like she can do anything. She might as well help me with Greenwood Fest.”

  “I thought Evie was helping you.”

  “She is. She’s a lovely girl and so eager to please, but I really need Mama Gabs to come home. Mama Gabs knows how to crack a whip when she needs to.”

  Zion knew what Rebekah was fishing around for. She wanted Zion to offer to help, but after the last couple of months of working seven days a week, Zion could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. Zephyr had the Half Caf running like a well-oiled machine, and the team of Dottie, Lottie, and Sonya had turned the Caffeinator into a draw for all of the businesses on Main Street. Zion wanted to be able to take some time for herself and Tate.

  Since they’d moved in together, they hadn’t had much time to just enjoy being with each other. One of them was either off early in the morning or returning late in the afternoon. So far, Sheriff Wilson had left Tate alone about any police work, but Zion never knew when a case would come up requiring Wilson to utilize his favorite former LA detective.

  She lifted her own wine and took a sip, refusing to meet Rebekah’s gaze. Rebekah moaned again, placing a bite of salad in her mouth and bracing her chin on her hand. “If only I had more help, I could finish this thing up and be done with it. I just need someone to direct the workers at the fairgrounds about where to put the booths, while I worry about displaying all of Marvin Shine’s nonsense where it isn’t the only thing you see. Do you know anyone who could help me?”

  “No, I can’t think of a single person. Maybe ask at the next Chamber meeting.”

  “Jim Dawson said I couldn’t have any more time at the meetings.”

  “He said you couldn’t dominate them.”

  “As if that’s what I was doing.”

  “We spent an hour on Greenwood Fest the last time. You had a PowerPoint.”

  “Well, I was trying to be thorough.”

  “You made us take a survey on our cell phones.”

  “Shoot me for trying to include this backwater town!”

  Zion leveled a look on her. Rebekah pushed her fork around in her salad, her lower lip out in a pout. Zion knew she was about to cave in to Rebekah’s demands, but she really wanted her to ask first.

  “Are you sure you won’t help me, sister? Please.” Rebekah dragged the word please out as if it hurt her.

  Zion laughed. “You are the worst friend a person could have, you know that?”

  “I know. I’m toxic.” Zion could see the grin tugging at Rebekah’s lips.

  “Fine, but I can only help you in the afternoons.”

  “That’s all I need.”

  “And you have to come to Logan’s graduation party.”

  Rebekah’s mouth opened. “Foul. You don’t get to put a stipulation on our friendship.”

  “I do, and that’s my demand.”

  “Fine. When’s the rugrat’s graduation party?”

  “Friday, after his graduation.”

  “Ohh God,” moaned Rebekah, rolling her head back. “Do I have to get him a gift?”

  “A card would be nice.”

  “Fine. I’ll be here with a card.”

  Zion smiled at her. “Was that so hard?”

  “It was impossible. Why do you torture me so horribly?”

  “Because I love you.”

  Rebekah picked up her glass of wine and saluted Zion with it. “Right back at you, sister. Right back at you.”

  * * *

  “She roped me into helping her with Greenwood Fest,” said Zion, rubbing lotion into her hands, her back braced against the headboard.

  Tate stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and Cleo had made a spot for herself at the end
of their bed. Tate leaned over and spat into the sink, then rinsed his mouth. “You let her rope you. You can’t tell that woman no on anything.”

  Zion twisted her lips to the side, glancing away from him. He put the toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and washed his hands, then he dried them on a towel, leaning against the door jamb.

  “What, Zion? What did you promise her I’d do?”

  “She needs someone to help run electrical to the booths.”

  “Why can’t the fairground do that?”

  “They’re behind schedule and the festival starts on Saturday. Can’t Noah help you?”

  Noah worked for Jaguar at the Fret No More, but he was very good with handyman chores. Tate had paid him extra to help out once in a while at the Hammer Tyme.

  Tate gave her an aggravated look. “If I ask Noah, I get Jaguar, and the damn fool’s likely to electrocute himself.”

  Zion held up a hand. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take Jaguar. He can help me arrange the booths, and you take Noah.”

  “And what about my store? Your dad’s not here. He’s out running around with his motorcycle gang.”

  Zion’s father had been forced into retirement a few months before and he’d started working with Bill Stanley in Tate’s hardware store to free Tate up for other projects. Joe Sawyer loved working the hardware store and he got along famously with Bill Stanley. It worked out for everyone involved.

  “I told her we’d only be there in the afternoons. Logan comes in after school and I can see if Deimos will help him.”

  “You can’t ask Dee to work the hardware store.”

  “Right,” said Zion.

  “Nails,” they both said together. Dee had a fear of nails because of Jesus. No one questioned it, especially if you knew Dee.

  He hung the towel on the rack and turned out the light, coming to the bed and pushing back the covers. “I don’t know how I can help…”

  Zion shifted to face him, leaning close. “Really? You can’t think of any way,” she purred at him.

  He gave her a sideways look. “That’s a dirty trick.”