Read Online A Frothy Fiasco: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 3) by Constance Barker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Constance Barker
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were just talking about the rash of robberies that just won’t quit. As far as the espresso machine, it’s the filter thing this time. I can’t get it to stay on, and water spurts out above the grounds.”
“Probably a gasket,” He said. “You girls shouldn’t scare me like that. I was raised in an Italian family and went to a Catholic school, so I was brought up feeling guilty for all the sins of the world. Now I’ll have to say a rosary to purify my soul.” He went to work taking the filter apparatus apart.
Jules and I laughed—a lot. “Sorry, Tony! Altar boys are beyond suspicion. Besides, you’ve probably been here during most of the crimes.”
“Yeah, the rubber gasket just slipped off one side so it couldn’t make a tight seal. All set.”
“That was fast. Thanks. Say, Tony…did you stop by Jules’ house last Saturday?”
He stopped in his tracks by our table and turned white as a ghost. His head snapped toward Jules. “Were you robbed again?”
“Nooo!” Jules said and caressed his arm a little. “Relax. This isn’t an interrogation.”
“I just felt so bad for you when your ring went missing.”
I took it from there. “It’s just that the little Jenkins boy said he saw you leaving her place.”
“Oh, yeah.” The color returned to his face and he sat down. “That was the day you couldn’t find your ring. I just wanted to see if maybe a glass of wine and some pasta at Mangia Bene might make you feel better. But I guess you were still at work.”
“How did you know where I lived?”
Tony looked at me and then at his hands in his lap. “I…may have followed you home one time. You know, just to make sure you got there safely. I dropped off a home coffee maker to a house on Bluebird Lane, and I saw you go by, so I watched for a while, and then followed behind in my car. It was just a block or two, and you were home. I remembered the ravine full of trees by your house.” There was a brief but awkward moment. “Well, I gotta go. More machines to fix!” And he was out the door.
Jules looked at me. “So…creepy or sweet, Lily?”
“Following you home? Sweet,” I answered without hesitation. “I’d say that guy has it bad for you Jules. His technique needs work, but he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
Toe walked in the front door. He stopped and looked around the room. “Oh. Must be hair-do day.” He halfway tipped his cap to us. “The usual.” Then he walked to the table in the corner nearest the counter where Harvey was still sleeping with his head against the wall. “Rrrraaaaawww! Oh! Someone’s stealing Miss Pickles, Harvey!”
Miss Pickles was Harvey’s beloved cat that famously loved all the men and had nothing but fangs and claws for the ladies.
Harvey roused in a hurry, totally disoriented, and nearly fell off his chair. Toe got a good guffaw out of it as he sat down, and I’ll admit that Jules and I had a chuckle too.
“Oh, you cantankerous old son of a gun. I wasn't napping, only surveying my eyelids and daydreaming,” Harvey rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. “I was in the middle of a dance with Elizabeth Taylor, and now you’ve ruined it.”
I set Toe’s coffee and muffin on the table. “Harvey, you shouldn’t be dancing with old, dead movie stars. You can do better than that.”
Jules set down a fresh hot cup of coffee for him.
“Well, first of all, it was the Butterfield 8 Liz Taylor from 1960, not the dead one. And,” he shook his head with a frustrated look on his face, “I’d take your Aunt Hildie dancing every night if she’d have me. But all she’s interested in is a friend for cards and conversation.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The man was right. Better let him have his dreams of Elizabeth Taylor.
The first group of kids came through the door and sat in the window. Jules ran over to take care of them just as Eli walked in the door behind them and sat down next to his dad.
“You look tired, Pop. Getting
“Probably a gasket,” He said. “You girls shouldn’t scare me like that. I was raised in an Italian family and went to a Catholic school, so I was brought up feeling guilty for all the sins of the world. Now I’ll have to say a rosary to purify my soul.” He went to work taking the filter apparatus apart.
Jules and I laughed—a lot. “Sorry, Tony! Altar boys are beyond suspicion. Besides, you’ve probably been here during most of the crimes.”
“Yeah, the rubber gasket just slipped off one side so it couldn’t make a tight seal. All set.”
“That was fast. Thanks. Say, Tony…did you stop by Jules’ house last Saturday?”
He stopped in his tracks by our table and turned white as a ghost. His head snapped toward Jules. “Were you robbed again?”
“Nooo!” Jules said and caressed his arm a little. “Relax. This isn’t an interrogation.”
“I just felt so bad for you when your ring went missing.”
I took it from there. “It’s just that the little Jenkins boy said he saw you leaving her place.”
“Oh, yeah.” The color returned to his face and he sat down. “That was the day you couldn’t find your ring. I just wanted to see if maybe a glass of wine and some pasta at Mangia Bene might make you feel better. But I guess you were still at work.”
“How did you know where I lived?”
Tony looked at me and then at his hands in his lap. “I…may have followed you home one time. You know, just to make sure you got there safely. I dropped off a home coffee maker to a house on Bluebird Lane, and I saw you go by, so I watched for a while, and then followed behind in my car. It was just a block or two, and you were home. I remembered the ravine full of trees by your house.” There was a brief but awkward moment. “Well, I gotta go. More machines to fix!” And he was out the door.
Jules looked at me. “So…creepy or sweet, Lily?”
“Following you home? Sweet,” I answered without hesitation. “I’d say that guy has it bad for you Jules. His technique needs work, but he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
Toe walked in the front door. He stopped and looked around the room. “Oh. Must be hair-do day.” He halfway tipped his cap to us. “The usual.” Then he walked to the table in the corner nearest the counter where Harvey was still sleeping with his head against the wall. “Rrrraaaaawww! Oh! Someone’s stealing Miss Pickles, Harvey!”
Miss Pickles was Harvey’s beloved cat that famously loved all the men and had nothing but fangs and claws for the ladies.
Harvey roused in a hurry, totally disoriented, and nearly fell off his chair. Toe got a good guffaw out of it as he sat down, and I’ll admit that Jules and I had a chuckle too.
“Oh, you cantankerous old son of a gun. I wasn't napping, only surveying my eyelids and daydreaming,” Harvey rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. “I was in the middle of a dance with Elizabeth Taylor, and now you’ve ruined it.”
I set Toe’s coffee and muffin on the table. “Harvey, you shouldn’t be dancing with old, dead movie stars. You can do better than that.”
Jules set down a fresh hot cup of coffee for him.
“Well, first of all, it was the Butterfield 8 Liz Taylor from 1960, not the dead one. And,” he shook his head with a frustrated look on his face, “I’d take your Aunt Hildie dancing every night if she’d have me. But all she’s interested in is a friend for cards and conversation.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The man was right. Better let him have his dreams of Elizabeth Taylor.
The first group of kids came through the door and sat in the window. Jules ran over to take care of them just as Eli walked in the door behind them and sat down next to his dad.
“You look tired, Pop. Getting
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