The Crêpes of Wrath: A Pancake House Mystery by Sarah Fox

threat of tears lessened. I didn’t want to cry in public, even if I was the only customer in Johnny’s Juice Hut at the moment.
    Mere seconds after I managed to get my emotions under control, the bald man came over and set my bubble tea in front of me.
    “Enjoy,” he said with a smile.
    “Thank you.”
    I took a sip of the slushy mango concoction. As a burst of refreshing flavor hit my taste buds, my mind became more alert. Nothing seemed quite real to me at the moment, but it would all sink in with time, I knew. There was no point in trying to make any decisions about the pancake house at present. I simply wasn’t up to it. In a day or two, everything would make more sense. Or so I hoped.
    As I rolled one of the tapioca pearls across the roof of my mouth, I did my best to relax. Across the street, the door to the real estate office opened and a woman emerged onto the sidewalk. My eyes zeroed in on her. Was she Chantel Lefevre, the woman who had almost run me over? She had the same straight blond hair as the driver. It reached an inch or two below her chin and not a strand was out of place. She appeared to be about fifty and carried a few extra pounds beneath her pale pink pencil skirt and matching blazer.
    Sure enough, after slipping on a pair of sunglasses, the woman circled around the yellow sports car and opened the driver’s-side door. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and the car zoomed off down Main Street toward Wildwood Road.
    I hadn’t met the woman, but I had a gut feeling that I wouldn’t warm to her if I did. Was she the only real estate agent in town? I hoped not. If I did end up selling either of Jimmy’s properties, I didn’t think I’d feel comfortable going to Chantel Lefevre for help. Although, maybe I was being unfair. She drove too fast and Lisa didn’t seem to be a big fan of hers, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job.
    Further thoughts about the real estate agent flew from my mind when the door to Johnny’s Juice Hut opened and Michael Downes came inside. He paused to remove his sunglasses. As he ran a hand over his dark hair, his unshaded gaze flicked in my direction. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised a hand in greeting as the man behind the counter—I had no idea if he was actually Johnny or not—called out, “Hey, Michael. What can I get you today?”
    Michael stepped up to the counter to place his order and pay, but soon claimed the empty stool next to me. “Hey, Marley.”
    “Hi. How are you?”
    “Can’t complain.” He set his sunglasses on the bar. “I heard about Jimmy, though. It’s a real shame. I’ll miss him.”
    “So will I.” I sipped some more bubble tea through my straw as the man in the apron came over and set a deep purple smoothie in front of Michael. When we were alone again, I said, “Was everything all right with you the other day?”
    Michael’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
    “You left The Flip Side in such a rush. I thought something might be wrong.”
    His face cleared. “Oh, that. When I saw the date on the paper I realized it was the last day to renew my vehicle insurance. I wanted to get it done before I went to my first job of the day.” He took a drink of his smoothie. “How about you? Are you holding up okay? I hear the sheriff’s conducting a murder investigation now.”
    “He is. And I’m doing all right, considering.”
    “Any idea what happened?” he asked.
    “No, and I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Jimmy.”
    “Maybe it was a random thing.” Michael paused to take another drink. “A deranged transient or something. Or a robbery gone wrong. A few houses have been broken into lately. Maybe someone thought the place would be deserted and Jimmy surprised them.”
    “Could be.” I didn’t mention the fact that some of the loot from the burglarized houses was stashed on Jimmy’s property. Instead, I focused on drawing three tapioca pearls up through my straw. As I