Death by Tea by Alex Erickson Page B

at him practically nonstop, pointing to where the yellow tape blocked off a small section of the bookstore. The door swung closed behind me, nearly catching me on the butt as I stared after them, still completely unable to process what I’d just seen. Mike sauntered over with a sly grin.
    â€œWhat just happened?” I asked.
    â€œLooks like sexy Miss Patterson found herself a disc jockey.”
    That was enough to distract me from the two of them. I turned a perplexed look to Mike. “What?”
    He grinned, winked, and then shot a finger gun at me before walking away.
    I shook my head in wonder. And I thought my week couldn’t get any weirder. I went back behind the counter and looked out over the customers drinking their coffees. My stomach grumbled, which wasn’t a good thing considering what I’d just seen, but it did give me a good excuse for what I was about to do.
    â€œI’m going to take a break,” I said, balling up my apron. “Call me if you need me. I’ll have my cell.”
    Mike nodded. “Sure thing.”
    I grabbed a cookie, tossed my apron into the office, and headed out the door. I might not have learned much from Mike about what happened the night David Smith was murdered, but thanks to Jules and Lance, I thought I knew where I could go to do just that. I’d never been to a bed-and-breakfast before, and now seemed like the perfect time to see what it was all about.

10
    Ted and Bettfast was one of those old mansions turned bed-and-breakfast that had started popping up across the country over the last few years. The building was nestled halfway up one of the hills in which Pine Hills sits. The driveway slithered upward, turning back in on itself repeatedly. Hedge animals sat in the little half ovals created by the meandering drive. It made me feel as if I had transported to another time and place where only the rich and famous lived. The Great Gatsby maybe?
    The illusion was diminished somewhat when the house came into view. While it was big and had all the makings of a mansion from the ’20s, the house had deteriorated over time. Much of the once-white brick was stained an ugly brown. Ivy that might have at one time been decoration and character now spread over most of the place like a rash. One of the windows upstairs was boarded up, though the rest of them were curtained and looked mostly clean. A handful of cars were parked in the parking lot to the side. I pulled in next to an old red Ford pickup that had seen better days.
    My best guess was that Ted and Bett Bunford had bought the mansion on the cheap and refurbished it, though it was entirely possible it had been inherited by one of them. There were definite signs of work speckled around the property, especially on the lower floors, where the windows looked new and the brick was scrubbed and painted to near its original white. It was evident the work had slowed recently because the ivy and grime were slowly taking back over. Before long, it would have the run of the place once again.
    I entered through the front door, smile in position. A young woman met me just inside. She was smiling too, but it slipped just a little when she saw me. For a moment, she looked indecisive before raising her hand and miming wiping the corner of her mouth.
    â€œSorry,” I said as I ran my finger over my lips. It came back chocolaty. “I ate a cookie on the way here.”
    â€œTotally understandable.” She cleared her throat. “Welcome to Ted and Bettfast. Are you looking for a room? We have quite a few still available. My name is Jo, and I can help you with anything you need.” The entire spiel sounded rehearsed. I wondered if I sounded that bad when greeting customers at Death by Coffee; perish the thought.
    â€œActually, no,” I said. “I’m here to talk to a few people.” I strained my memory to come up with some names. “Do you know if Albert, uh . . .” Did he