Praise for Cleo Coyle’s Coffeehouse Mysteries
MURDER BY MOCHA
“[A] tasty espresso-dark tale of multigenerational crime and punishment lightened by the Blend’s frothy cast of lovable eccentrics.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A delicious mystery!”
—Woman’s World
“This rich and entertaining mystery blends atmosphere, unforgettable characters, and a killer plot that will keep readers hooked until the very end.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Like a great cup of coffee, I can’t get enough of Cleo Coyle’s Coffeehouse Mysteries . . . This terrifically written, can’t-put-it-down series . . . is a must-read for cozy fans who enjoy a great story with well-developed characters and a new twist in every chapter.”
—Cozy Corner
“A specially blended mystery . . . inside of an action-packed series . . . Filled with twists, used coffee beans, and false leads, readers will wonder who the killer is (over mocha).”
—Midwest Book Review
ROAST MORTEM
A BookReporter.com Reviewer’s Pick
Favorite Book of the Year!
“Coyle incorporates a taste of the real-life bravery of the New York City Fire Department into her brilliantly fast-paced mystery, giving readers a glimpse into the lives of some of the hardest-working men and women in America.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Coyle’s strong ninth coffeehouse mystery (after 2009’s Holiday Grind) pays tribute to New York City firefighters . . . Coyle (the wife-husband writing team of Alice Alfonsi and Marc Cerasini) provides an appendix of useful tips and tempting recipes.”
—Publishers Weekly
HOLIDAY GRIND
“Other honorable mentions for new holiday booking . . . Holiday Grind by Cleo Coyle, a new addition to the Coffeehouse Mystery series that . . . adds in jolts of souped-up coffee, sweet cooking . . . and super sleuthing to deliver a fun and gripping fa-la-la-la-latte surprise.”
—The Huffington Post
“Coyle’s greatest strength is writing characters that feel real. Clare and company are some of the most vibrant characters I’ve ever read . . . Coyle also is a master of misdirection and red herrings. I challenge any reader to figure out whodunit before Coyle reveals all.”
—Mystery Scene
ESPRESSO SHOT
“Coyle’s Coffeehouse books are superb examples of the cozy genre because of their intelligent cast of characters, their subtle wit, and their knowledge of the coffee industry used to add depth and flavor to the stories . . . Highly recommended for all mystery collections.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“Clare visits underground restaurants, temples to high fashion, and the hotel room of a seductive Italian sculptor in her attempts to keep the bride alive . . . A realistic depiction of New York City high and low life. The smattering of recipes, romance, and caffeine-fueled detection add up to a lively tale.”
—Kirkus Reviews
FRENCH PRESSED
#1 Paperback Bestseller
Independent Mystery Booksellers Association
“Engaging . . . Keeps the reader in suspense to the very end, French Pressed is well worth reading.”
—New Mystery Reader Magazine
“Once again, Cleo Coyle has written an enjoyable, fast-paced mystery that features a perky heroine who has gone from single mother to savvy business owner . . . Readers may be stumped until the very end.”
—The Mystery Reader
DECAFFEINATED CORPSE
#1 Paperback Bestseller
Independent Mystery Booksellers Association
“Great characters, smooth plotting, and top-notch writing, it’s no wonder these books are bestsellers.”
—Cozy Library
“Coyle displays a deep understanding, not only of coffee . . . but also of coffee shop culture. She treats espresso shop work as an honorable profession . . . Coyle knows her coffee so well that even I have learned new coffee bits by reading her books . . . If you have not yet discovered the Coffeehouse Mystery series by Cleo Coyle, you should . . . I heartily recommend them.”
—Eric S. Chen, BARISTO
MURDER MOST FROTHY
“Exciting, delicious fun, with coffee trivia, recipes, a vicarious adventure for those of us at home reading of things we’d rather not face ourselves but understanding Clare Cosi’s motives and morals.”
—Gumshoe Review
LATTE TROUBLE
“Anyone who loves coffee and a good mystery will love this story. Rating: Outstanding.”
—Mysterious Corner
THROUGH THE GRINDER
“Coffee lovers and mystery buffs will savor the latest addition to this mystery series . . . Fast-paced action, coffee lore, and incredible culinary recipes . . . All hail the goddess Caffina!”
—The Best Reviews
ON WHAT GROUNDS
#1 Paperback Bestseller
Independent Mystery Booksellers Association
“A great beginning to a new series . . . On What Grounds will convert even the most fervent tea drinker into a coffee lover in the time it takes to draw an espresso.”
—The Mystery Reader
“A hilarious blend of amateur detecting with some romance thrown in the mix . . . I personally adored this book and can’t wait to read the rest of the series!”
—Cozy Library
Visit Cleo Coyle’s virtual Village Blend at
www.CoffeehouseMystery.com,
where coffee and crime are always brewing . . .
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Cleo Coyle
Coffeehouse Mysteries
ON WHAT GROUNDS
THROUGH THE GRINDER
LATTE TROUBLE
MURDER MOST FROTHY
DECAFFEINATED CORPSE
FRENCH PRESSED
ESPRESSO SHOT
HOLIDAY GRIND
ROAST MORTEM
MURDER BY MOCHA
A BREW TO A KILL
HOLIDAY BUZZ
Haunted Bookshop Mysteries writing as Alice Kimberly
THE GHOST AND MRS. MCCLURE
THE GHOST AND THE DEAD DEB
THE GHOST AND THE DEAD MAN’S LIBRARY
THE GHOST AND THE FEMME FATALE
THE GHOST AND THE HAUNTED MANSION
HOLIDAY BUZZ
CLEO COYLE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North 2193, South Africa • Penguin China, B7 Jaiming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for
author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
HOLIDAY BUZZ
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / December 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Cover illustration by Cathy Gendron.
Cover design and logo by Rita Frangie.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-61203-3
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
A COFFEEHOUSE MYSTERY is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Fifty-two
Fifty-three
Fifty-four
Fifty-five
Fifty-six
Fifty-seven
Fifty-eight
Fifty-nine
Sixty
Sixty-one
Sixty-two
Sixty-three
Sixty-four
Epilogue
Epigraph
Recipes
Janelle’s Gingerbread Crackle Cookies
Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies
Clare Cosi’s New York Cheesecake Cookies with Candied Strawberry Drizzle
Clare’s Candied Strawberry Drizzle
Clare’s Eggnog Crumb Muffins
Brigadieros (Brazilian Chocolate Truffles)
Clare Cosi’s Easy Pumpkin Cake with Surprise Cream Cheese Swirl
Clare Cosi’s Pepper-Crusted Roast Beef
Clare’s Horsey Sauce
Clare’s Chicken Marsala for Mike
Clare’s Apple Crumb Pie with Mrs. Li’s Warm Custard Sauce
Clare’s Crumb Topping
Mrs. Li’s Warm Custard Sauce
Clare’s Frozen Eggnog Latte for Mike
The Village Blend’s Gumdrop Spritzers
Easy Candy Cane Latte with Homemade Peppermint Syrup
Clare Cosi’s Peppermint Syrup Homemade from Candy Canes
Epigraph
About the Authors
A good conscience is a continual Christmas.
—Benjamin Franklin
Prologue
It couldn’t have happened anywhere but in little old New York.
—O. HENRY
SHE’S coming. I see her . . .
Short and slight with blunt-cut bangs and a cheap black coat, the little assistant baker wended her way through the well-heeled crowd like a crow strutting through peacocks. The night was near freezing, yet the girl’s coat hung open. As she walked along, she took drags from a cigarette.
“Here I am,” the little baker announced, waving the burning butt.
“Obviously,” the figure said.
The two stood in the chilly shadows of a broken carousel, just beyond the brilliance of the city park’s skating rink, where children lapped the ice, laughter rose on the frosty air, and bouncy tunes spilled out of speakers.
“Well?” the figure asked. “Did you bring it?”
“I did,” the girl said.
“Then let me see it!”
“All right! Keep your knickers on!”
The figure stiffened, holding back a retort. The girl was nobody, hardly memorable, excepting that low-rent Irish accent and gallingly direct tone. Correcting her would be a waste of breath—and, anyway, in another minute, her attitude wouldn’t matter.
Sixty yards away stood the park’s exclusive restaurant. Inside that glass box, wealthy monsters and A-list idiots nibbled gourmet goodies. Out here, nannies shivered around a block of ice, laser focused on paychecks with legs skating around the brightly lit rink. No attention had been given to the single young woman who’d marched into this circle of darkness.
While the girl fumbled at her apron, the figure asked, “Who have you told about this?”
“No one! I kept it to myself. You can feel certain of that . . .”
The figure dipped a gloved hand into a deep coat pocket, feeling the hard, heavy object hidden inside. This was a better kind of certainty.
At last, the girl produced the reason for this meeting. “Have a look,” she said, holding out the paper. The figure reached for it, intentionally missing. The paper fluttered down.
“I’ll get it,” the girl offered.
The figure nodded, and the girl bowed, like the servant she was, toward the floor of the lifeless merry-go-round.
One last time, the figure glanced around, then pulled the solid object from its hiding place, raised up a hand, and—
Down came the blow. Thin and weak, the girl fell hard, like a baby bird from its mother’s nest, her short, sharp chirp barely audible above the blare of holiday noise. The second blow stopped all movement. Merciless strikes followed, just to be sure.
Finally, the basher rose, cleaned up quickly, and disposed of the murder weapon. Amid the shadowy tableau of painted horses, a chilly breeze ruffled the girl’s hair, now matted holiday red. Her cigarette rolled away, sending up dying smoke signals.
Close by, skaters glided and swirled to “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way . . .”
Inside the park’s restaurant, children licked candy canes; mommies laughed with daddies; couples held hands, toasting their romance; while outside a forsaken smoke stick went cold, sending a final plume to heaven.
“Oh, what fun . . .” the basher sang.
So many eyes. And none of them saw.
One
When a star falls, a soul goes up to God.
—HANS CHRISTIAN AND
ERSEN, “THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL”
EARLIER that day . . .
“So how’s the weather outside?” I asked. “Frightful?”
“Far from it,” said Tucker Burton, pulling a woolen stocking cap off his floppy brown mop. “There’s not even a hint of snow . . .”
There was no hint of murder, either. Not then.
I was still hours away from finding that poor girl’s bludgeoned body; and soon after, I, Clare Cosi, would be the one to find her cold-blooded killer. At this hour, however, standing behind my coffeehouse counter, I wasn’t thinking about murder weapons or contextual evidence. I didn’t plan on interrogating a reality show diva; hoodwinking a New York hockey player; or butting heads with a conniving Cajun cook. And I certainly wasn’t expecting to trump one of the biggest forensic freaks in the NYPD—or withstand one of the worst shocks of my early midlife.
On this particular December afternoon, my chief concern wasn’t murder. It was weather.
My lanky assistant manager had entered the Village Blend with a blast of frosty air, but I found his tidings warmer than our crackling fireplace. No snow was good news! (Not that Currier or Ives would agree.)
Personally, I loved the stuff.
Growing up in a run-down factory town, I couldn’t wait for the season’s first snowfall. That sparkly blanket instantly beautified rickety buildings and cracked concrete. It even made the local mill’s sooty smokestacks look more like the chimneys of Santa’s workshop.
Moving to New York, I learned to love snow for a different reason. Back then, I was barely twenty, an art school dropout, adjusting to a new husband, new baby, and new way of life. My rhythms had been set by small-town living. Manhattan, on the other hand, was an island of beings on a continual series of seemingly dire quests. Rushing uptown and down, men and women glanced off one another with barely a grunt.
Heaven’s magic crystals calmed all that, quieting the traffic and culling the crowds. Snowfall forced a period of contemplation on a perpetually racing population.
For going on two decades now, that peaceful oasis was what I tried to provide for my coffeehouse customers—no matter the weather. We were a cocoon of comfort on an island of chaos, and the hectic holiday season was the time of year people needed us most.