Death by Tea by Alex Erickson Page A

the night with that stuck-up chick. He didn’t say much as far as I can remember.” He shrugged. “That’s really all I can tell you.”
    â€œWhat about afterward?” I asked.
    Mike’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
    â€œAre you sure everyone was out of the store before you locked up? Could someone have stayed behind, hiding in the stacks perhaps?”
    Mike straightened and actually looked offended. “I’m positive; everyone was gone. I did a head count. That Dave dude was the last to leave. I specifically remember it because the rich chick walked out before him, looking pissed.”
    â€œDid they leave together? As in, did they get into the same car?”
    â€œHow am I supposed to know?” Mike was looking annoyed by all of the questions. “They left and I cleaned up and then closed up. That’s all there is to it. They were gone by the time I left.”
    Well, that wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. I was kind of hoping Mike would have seen someone hanging around afterward, or perhaps a fight had broken out in the parking lot. Even if he would have said that he couldn’t remember whether everyone had left, it would have helped. It would have given me direction.
    As it was, I had no more to go on than I did before. “Thanks,” I said. “You’ve been a great help.”
    â€œSure, sure. Glad I could be.” He turned to the register as an elderly woman came up to it. His smile looked genuine, which was something I could never pull off when taking orders. “Welcome to Death by Coffee. We’ve got some killer java in the pot.”
    I cringed and mentally reminded myself to have a talk with Mike about the lingo. This wasn’t the ’90s anymore. Come to think of it, he couldn’t have been more than five in the ’90s. How he’d picked up the dated phrases was anyone’s guess.
    I wandered over to the front door and looked it up and down. No one had said anything about forced entry, but I thought it wise to at least give it a look. I opened the door enough so I could lean down and peer closely at the lock. There were no more scrapes than what you’d normally expect to find around a keyhole. There were no telltale crowbar marks—not that I knew what those would look like—or bent metal to be found.
    â€œThinking of changing your locks?”
    A yelp escaped my lips and I clunked my forehead against the side of the door as I shot upright. I turned, rubbing at my throbbing head, to find Mason Lawyer smiling at me.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked, sore from being startled yet again. What I needed were eyes in the back of my head.
    Mason only smiled at my grumpy tone. His brother had been murdered a few months back, and while I didn’t exactly dislike the guy, he hadn’t made my life any easier during the investigation. He didn’t interfere per se, but he hadn’t been too happy about my asking questions. Really, I couldn’t blame him, especially since I’d thought he might have slept with his brother’s wife.
    He ran his fingers through his hair, which was darn near black. He’d been letting it grow out recently, which looked good on him. Not that I was looking. I already had enough men in my life I didn’t know what to do with.
    â€œHow are you holding up?” he asked, his demeanor suddenly changing to concern. “Vicki told me about that police officer following you around.”
    â€œShe what? When?”
    â€œLast night.” His head popped up and a wide smile split his face.
    â€œMason!” Vicki rushed over and gave him a quick hug. “I’m glad you came.”
    I stared at them for a long time, unable to speak. Mason and Vicki? It not only didn’t compute, it caused my stomach to do these strange little flips that made my legs wobbly.
    I stepped back from the doorway as Vicki led Mason inside. She was babbling