Read Online Grounds for Murder by Sandra Balzo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Balzo
Tags: cozy mystery
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floor to watch me run into the kitchen.
The bag from Schultz’s was sitting on the counter where I’d left it while I preheated the broiler. I reached in and pulled out the bag o’halibut.
The fish was floating.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your backs?’ I asked the fillets. I was recalling my earlier conversation with Amy.
To think we’d been standing in front of the seafood counter at Schultz’s less than three hours ago, chatting about goldfish. And now the store Amy managed was gone, along with her job, perhaps. I assumed that Janalee would offer Amy something at a HotWired store, but would the rock barista take it?
With the exception of Amy at Janalee’s Place, the HotWired staff members were as interchangeable as their surroundings. Not their fault, really. It was the way LaRoche wanted them. Uniform, efficient and faceless. Amy was anything but faceless, and I wasn’t sure she would fit in anywhere but Janalee’s.
Except Uncommon Grounds, of course.
I tossed the fish in the garbage and walked back into the living room, thinking about what made a place special. The point of differentiation. The people, right? In a coffeehouse, that would be the owners and employees who greeted you by name and knew what you drank. Made you feel at home. Or better than at home.
If we were going to beat HotWired, I thought as I stacked up Janalee’s files, we needed to appeal to people’s hearts, not their wallets. Our pockets just weren’t deep enough to compete with LaRoche’s free drink coupons. ‘We do have big hearts, though,’ I said out loud.
Frank snorted, giving me a momentary glimpse of one eye, and then went back to sleep. Cynic.
I would get an early start tomorrow. First I would check out the convention center so there wouldn’t be any surprises on Thursday morning when I met with the judges. Then I would spend some time at Uncommon Grounds spreading good will. And force Caron to do likewise.
The remains of the Pinot Noir Pavlik had brought was sitting on the coffee table next to the DVD of Through a Glass Darkly. I had been about to pour us more wine when the call about the fire came in.
I picked up the bottle. Just enough left for a glass or two. I glanced over at the clock on the mantle. And just enough time. I poured the wine and slipped the DVD into the player.
Despite the fact I’d paired the wine with a sleeve of crackers and a can of spray cheese, I awoke famished the next morning. Go figure.
I decided to flip my itinerary and go to Uncommon Grounds first, before moving on to the convention center. The reason being free food, of course.
It was nearly eight thirty by the time I walked in the door, so I was surprised to see seven customers in line at the counter. Mindful of my resolution, I made sure to greet each person before I went behind the counter and dug out an almond poppy seed muffin.
‘You are going to help, aren’t you?’ Caron demanded, as she poured a cup of coffee for a customer. ‘I mean, someone besides yourself?’
‘Of course,’ I said, stuffing a piece of muffin in my mouth. ‘Just needed a little nourishment first. A cup of coffee would help,’ I said, eying the mug in Caron’s hand.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ the woman at the front of the line said. ‘And don’t you be putting any of your dirty pictures on it either.’ She snatched the cup from Caron and scuttled away to a corner table.
Mrs Doherty. The recipient of my one and only attempt at latte art. The woman had no imagination. Or, perhaps, too much of one. Either way, I wouldn’t be winning her heart anytime soon. Best leave that one to Caron.
I turned to the next customer in line, a woman wearing a jacket over tennis whites. ‘Dorothy – it’s good to see you. Your usual, I presume?’
‘I’d prefer Alice’s usual,’ the woman said, shaking her dark hair. It didn’t move. Too much product.
‘Alice’s usual?’ I asked, confused. ‘I’m afraid I don’t
The bag from Schultz’s was sitting on the counter where I’d left it while I preheated the broiler. I reached in and pulled out the bag o’halibut.
The fish was floating.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your backs?’ I asked the fillets. I was recalling my earlier conversation with Amy.
To think we’d been standing in front of the seafood counter at Schultz’s less than three hours ago, chatting about goldfish. And now the store Amy managed was gone, along with her job, perhaps. I assumed that Janalee would offer Amy something at a HotWired store, but would the rock barista take it?
With the exception of Amy at Janalee’s Place, the HotWired staff members were as interchangeable as their surroundings. Not their fault, really. It was the way LaRoche wanted them. Uniform, efficient and faceless. Amy was anything but faceless, and I wasn’t sure she would fit in anywhere but Janalee’s.
Except Uncommon Grounds, of course.
I tossed the fish in the garbage and walked back into the living room, thinking about what made a place special. The point of differentiation. The people, right? In a coffeehouse, that would be the owners and employees who greeted you by name and knew what you drank. Made you feel at home. Or better than at home.
If we were going to beat HotWired, I thought as I stacked up Janalee’s files, we needed to appeal to people’s hearts, not their wallets. Our pockets just weren’t deep enough to compete with LaRoche’s free drink coupons. ‘We do have big hearts, though,’ I said out loud.
Frank snorted, giving me a momentary glimpse of one eye, and then went back to sleep. Cynic.
I would get an early start tomorrow. First I would check out the convention center so there wouldn’t be any surprises on Thursday morning when I met with the judges. Then I would spend some time at Uncommon Grounds spreading good will. And force Caron to do likewise.
The remains of the Pinot Noir Pavlik had brought was sitting on the coffee table next to the DVD of Through a Glass Darkly. I had been about to pour us more wine when the call about the fire came in.
I picked up the bottle. Just enough left for a glass or two. I glanced over at the clock on the mantle. And just enough time. I poured the wine and slipped the DVD into the player.
Despite the fact I’d paired the wine with a sleeve of crackers and a can of spray cheese, I awoke famished the next morning. Go figure.
I decided to flip my itinerary and go to Uncommon Grounds first, before moving on to the convention center. The reason being free food, of course.
It was nearly eight thirty by the time I walked in the door, so I was surprised to see seven customers in line at the counter. Mindful of my resolution, I made sure to greet each person before I went behind the counter and dug out an almond poppy seed muffin.
‘You are going to help, aren’t you?’ Caron demanded, as she poured a cup of coffee for a customer. ‘I mean, someone besides yourself?’
‘Of course,’ I said, stuffing a piece of muffin in my mouth. ‘Just needed a little nourishment first. A cup of coffee would help,’ I said, eying the mug in Caron’s hand.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ the woman at the front of the line said. ‘And don’t you be putting any of your dirty pictures on it either.’ She snatched the cup from Caron and scuttled away to a corner table.
Mrs Doherty. The recipient of my one and only attempt at latte art. The woman had no imagination. Or, perhaps, too much of one. Either way, I wouldn’t be winning her heart anytime soon. Best leave that one to Caron.
I turned to the next customer in line, a woman wearing a jacket over tennis whites. ‘Dorothy – it’s good to see you. Your usual, I presume?’
‘I’d prefer Alice’s usual,’ the woman said, shaking her dark hair. It didn’t move. Too much product.
‘Alice’s usual?’ I asked, confused. ‘I’m afraid I don’t
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