Carnations and Chaos Read online

  Carnations and Chaos

  Port Danby Cozy Mystery #2

  London Lovett

  Carnations and Chaos

  Copyright © 2017 by London Lovett

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Author’s Note

  Mistletoe and Mayhem

  Cherry, Chocolate and Pistachio Biscotti

  Recipe Card

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Clouds had hung low in the sky every morning for the past week, but this morning a crisp blue sky showed up to coax me out of bed. But my limbs and back hadn't been quite as eager to exit my downy blanket cocoon. I'd stayed late at the shop, well past dark, to finish the floral arrangements for the Third Annual Food Fair to be held in Port Danby's town square. It had taken one interminably long shower, a cup of coffee and one of Elsie's blueberry muffins to get me out the door and onto my bicycle.

  It felt as if I'd just left the shop as I pedaled along Harbor Lane. My pet crow, Kingston, had flown on ahead of me. I could see his shiny black silhouette as he perched on the edge of the shop roof. The flowering plums that lined Harbor Lane were almost completely devoid of foliage, so Kingston had no place to perch and scare songbirds and pretend to be a real crow.

  Oddly enough, an unusually long line of customers seemed to be snaked along the sidewalk in front of Elsie's Sugar and Spice Bakery. The tail end of the line was in front of my shop. I got off my bicycle and maneuvered my way through the people. I hadn't noticed that my friend, Lola, was standing amongst the other customers until she called my name.

  "Pink, you're here early. Join me." She was near the end of the line. I leaned my bike against the flower shop door and walked over to her.

  "What are you doing? Is this all for the bakery?"

  "I would have thought you'd already guessed it with your super nose." I wondered how long it would be before the people of Port Danby would stop referring to my nose as super. I had a heightened sense of smell, but it was hardly super. Well, maybe a little super.

  "Elsie made some of her famous cinnamon rolls. She only makes them a few times a year because she says they just take too much work and time and space in her ovens. And if you sit at one of her tables to eat one of her magical cinnamon rolls, you get it for free. Which is why there's such a long line. Everyone is waiting for the tables to empty so they can sit and eat."

  "I can't decide if that's a genius or ridiculous marketing scheme. I'm going with the latter because after all that work and the expense, Elsie isn't going to make any profit." I looked along the line of anxiously waiting cinnamon roll eaters. "In fact, I'd say she is going to be in the red on this one."

  I glanced over to the Coffee Hutch. Elsie's brother, Lester, had almost no customers, and his tables were empty. Unfortunately, I had been the catalyst for The Great Port Danby Table War. My flower shop, Pink's Flowers, had once been Elsie's bakery. She had moved next door because it was a bigger building for her very successful bakery. Now my shop sat between the bakery and the coffee shop, each with its own set of tables and chairs. A healthy dose of sibling rivalry, that apparently never faded with time, not even when the siblings, twins in this case, were well into their sixties, had both shop owners competing to fill their storefront tables. It was usually sort of amusing, but today, it was impacting the entire sidewalk. And poor Lester's mood. Lester stared out the front window of his shop, looking a little droopy. Even though I'd had a cup of coffee at home, I decided to walk over and buy one from lonely Lester.

  I unlocked my shop door to push my bicycle inside. Behind me there was a short gasp from the people in line. I ducked and felt the breeze from Kingston's wings as he flew inside to his window perch.

  I couldn't hold back a smile when I saw the colorful flower arrangements I'd created for the food fair booths. What better way to pay homage to autumn than with a small bouquet of red, orange, yellow and lavender carnations. I'd placed each colorful bundle into a sleek, slim necked vase and tied dark purple ribbon and orange paper raffia around each one. I hoped that Yolanda Petri, the councilwoman in charge of the fair, would be pleased.

  "I'll be right back, Kingston," I said and then silently asked myself why I always felt the need to let my bird know my plans. I let my cat, Nevermore, know too. As if he cared. As long as I wasn't taking the couch or his bowl of food with me, he never even blinked a cat eyelash at seeing me walk out the door.

  I circled around to the Coffee Hutch with its sadly empty tables and chairs. The shop itself could hardly be described as sad though. The Coffee Hutch matched its name perfectly, neat and to the point. It was an understated little shop with one flashy concession, a long awning with coffee brown stripes. The brown and white trim on the front window matched the colors of the awning. The front door, which was mostly wavy glass, was trimmed in the same brown. Even the sign above the door was painted in brown and white. With the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee consistently drifting through the windows and door, there really wasn't a need for flashy decor out front. The perpetual aroma was its own pleasant, comforting form of advertisement.

  Lester was behind the counter stacking paper cups when I walked inside. The interior of the Coffee Hutch was tiny, but Lester used every inch of space available. Aside from the three tables out front, two long picnic style tables, complete with benches and scarred surfaces, took up the center of the space. But the heart and brains of the shop were tucked, layered and stored neatly behind the shiny black order counter. Two metal pendant lights hung over the coffee brewing station giving the place an appropriately industrial vibe.

  "Morning, Les."

  "Hey, Lacey. How has your morning been? Better than mine, I hope." A retired fireman and widower, I had hoped that Lester would eventually come to his senses and realize that there were far more important things in life than having more customers at his tables than his sister. But those hopes were dashed when the man, a highly sensible person in every other respect, invested in expensive upholstered chair cushions for his outdoor chairs. Unfortunately, in his quest for elegance and plushy comfort, he'd forgotten to buy weather proof cushions. So the brightly colored floral cushions (a conscious choice by a man whose everyday apparel included a Hawaiian shirt, no matter what the weather) had to be brought in every evening and then carried out the next day.

  "I'll have a mocha latte with extra whipped cream." I decided a little indulgence would help get me through a long morning with the energetic, effervescent Yolanda Petri.

  "I'll mix that right up for you." Lester
turned to his barista work station. "How come you're not in that long line for the cinnamon rolls? I hear they're free. As long as you sit at the tables," he added with a grumble that I was sure was only meant for his own ears.

  "From the looks of it, Elsie is not going to make much profit today. Everyone's waiting for a table."

  He spun around looking a little more cheery than when I'd walked inside. "That's what I told the silly woman, but she's more interested in getting those tables filled. It's ridiculous."

  I cleared my throat. "Said the man who spent the first fifteen minutes of his work day tying expensive cushions to his outdoor chairs."

  A sheepish grin crossed his face beneath his cloud of snow white hair. "I suppose it is getting a little out of hand."

  "A little."

  Lester handed me the mocha latte. I'd just taken the first sip when Yolanda came briskly into the coffee shop. "There you are, Lacey." She took a deep, steadying breath as if she'd climbed to the top of Everest and back looking for me. "Are the arrangements ready? The men are setting up the booths."

  Yolanda Petri lived one street over from me on Shire Lane. She was a forty something with two daughters, Olivia and Tricia, both in middle school. Her husband ran a tire shop in Mayfield, and Yolanda worked as a part-time teacher's aide. In between work and family, she was an active member of the Port Danby City Council. And this year, because she didn't already have enough on her full plate, she had taken charge of the Third Annual Food Fair, an eclectic gathering of all the top food bloggers.

  Yolanda was proud (and rightfully so) that she'd convinced the food fair coordinators to let Port Danby host the event. Naturally, she wanted everything to be perfect. Today she looked a little frazzled, but she was still well put together with a blazer, nice jeans and a colorful scarf. She had a cute bobbed haircut and she loved to wear bright orange lipstick, a color that only looked good on a few people. Yolanda happened to be one of those people.

  I paid Lester for the coffee, and Yolanda and I walked back over to the flower shop.

  "What's happening at Elsie's?" she asked as we skirted through the line.

  "Free cinnamon rolls." I opened the door and waved her inside.

  Yolanda stopped in front of the line of carnation filled vases. She put her hands on her hips.

  I fretted for a moment, thinking she was disappointed. "Will these do?" I asked tentatively.

  My flower shop and my status as a Port Danby local were still new, and I found myself still wanting to make a good impression on everyone. With the exception of Mayor Price, who had taken an early disliking to me. I'd decided not to worry about it.

  "Lacey 'Pink' Pinkerton," she said sternly and then turned with a wide smile. "I love them!"

  Chapter 2

  After loading the flower vases into the trunk of Yolanda's car, I spent the rest of the morning working on my Thanksgiving centerpieces. I'd decided to make three examples for customers to choose from, and I was quite pleased with the way they were turning out. I certainly hadn't thought ahead when I decided to open a flower shop just weeks before the long holiday season. For the most part, it had turned out to be a bonus. Flowers were a big deal during the holidays, giving my business a nice start. Enough so, that I'd made the executive decision, me being the sole executive, to hire some help before December.

  The goat bell on the front door woke Kingston from his nap. He immediately began a show off dance along his perch when he saw his second favorite human, Lola, walk inside. Lola owned the antique shop across the street. She was my closest friend in Port Danby.

  "I need sustenance," she huffed as she hopped up on the stool at my work table. "I've been unpacking the boxes my parents sent from Turkey. Some cool stuff. Some weird and musty smelling stuff too. Now I'm starved."

  "Didn't you just eat one of Elsie's cinnamon rolls?"

  "Like two hours ago, and by the time I got up to the counter to order one, all she had left were the small end pieces. Poor Elsie, I don't know what she was thinking giving all those rolls away for free. She made no money and customers lingered around her shop all morning just to sit at the tables. Elsie and Lester need to stop this table battle."

  "I couldn't agree more." I finished cleaning up the dried moss and splinters of stems littered across my work table. "Maybe we should ask Elsie to come with us to Franki's diner. She could probably use a break."

  Lola dropped her feet down to the floor. She was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on the front. She usually wore funky shirts with her faded jeans, but this one was particularly unique.

  "You're looking a little pirate like today, Lola. If you need a fake parrot for your shoulder, I happen to have a bird that would be more than happy to sit on your shoulder all day."

  "King-King, my love, the only guy who pays me any attention," Lola crooned as she headed to the bird's perch.

  Kingston shuffled back and forth and bobbed his black head up and down until Lola rubbed it. I walked to the sink to wash my hands while she talked to Kingston.

  The bell clanged and Elsie shuffled in as if she were dragging heavy weights behind her. Elsie was the fittest person I knew, a disciplined runner who never overindulged in her own pastries. "What a morning. I no longer care about my tables. Lester can have all the customers on his side. I surrender."

  Lola and I exchanged secret glances because we both knew that it was just talk, especially because Elsie made the same declaration of surrender at least once a week.

  "Lola and I were just heading over to Franki's for lunch. Why don't you join us? I've got to fortify myself before heading over to the town square to help Yolanda set up."

  "Lunch sounds good. I'll just go lock up the bakery."

  Lola gave Kingston some bird seed and peanuts, and we headed over to the bakery. The table area looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane that had been dropping napkins and paper plates instead of rain. Even the inside of the bakery looked less pristine than usual.

  With the exception of the trail of napkins and sticky crumbs on the counter, it was still my favorite shop interior. The perfectly wonderful teal color on the front of the bakery flowed seamlessly inside where it trimmed the country style wood panels running along the massive curved glass counter. Silver trays and pearly white tiered plates proudly presented Elsie's incredible sugar glazed treats. In perfectly quaint contrast to the glossy teal paint, the entire rear wall of the bakery was covered with weathered bricks. A long steel table was set up along the bricks to give Elsie a place to stand in her peach and green checkered apron and fill orders into taffy pink pastry boxes. And that was to say nothing about the conglomeration of mouth watering aromas floating through the air like strands of cotton candy in a floss machine.

  Elsie came out from the back room with her purse, and the three of us headed out to the sidewalk for the brief journey to Franki's Diner. As we walked, several trucks rolled along Harbor Lane, heading toward Pickford Way and the town square.

  "That must be some of the bloggers," I said. "I know a few had asked if they could come early to set up."

  "I think this is going to cause a lot of chaos in town," Elsie said grumpily, an unusual mood for her.

  "I think you're just tired from this morning," Lola noted. "You'll see it less as chaos and better for business once you rest."

  Elsie shot Lola a disapproving scowl. "Maybe better business for you, but then the fair isn't going to be filled with antique booths."

  I glanced over at Lola. "Elsie has a point. Of course, I'm sure none of the goodies at the fair will compare to the treasures inside your bakery."

  Elsie who was usually easily flattered wasn't having any of it today. She was obviously over tired and, most likely, disappointed that she'd decided to give away so many cinnamon rolls. Maybe today's fiasco really would be the end of the table war.

  "I'm thinking about ordering some heating lamps for my outside eating area," Elsie commented as we walked inside the diner.

  Or maybe
not.

  "That was history's shortest surrender," Lola muttered into my ear as we looked for a table.

  Franki had several servers on the floor, but she made a point to come over and say hello. "You three look exhausted, and the fair hasn't even started yet. I'm not sure if I should expect a big rush or a really slow weekend, considering there will be so much food to sample at the event. To be honest, I'm hoping for the slow weekend. I could use it."

  "That's a good way to look at it," Elsie said with a decisive nod. She perked up after Franki's pep talk. "I'll have the roast beef dip, extra onions."

  "Ooh, I'll have the same," Lola said. "Hold the onions though."

  I browsed the menu once more. "I need something that'll give me energy to keep up with Yolanda and that won't make me want to curl up under a tree for a nap." I ran my finger down the menu. "Got it. Soup and salad combo, please."

  Franki collected the menus. "Kimi and Kylie are excited because they were hired to work up at the Hawksworth Mansion this weekend. You know how those out-of-towners love to immerse themselves in the sordid, haunted history of that old place. My girls will be there selling five dollar tickets to see the collection inside the gardener's shed."

  The Hawksworth Manor, a decaying gothic mansion that sat perched on Maple Hill behind my house, had been the site of a grisly murder, the entire Hawksworth family wiped out, just after the turn of the last century. The police at the time had closed the case as a murder-suicide deciding that jealousy had driven Bertram Hawksworth to kill his entire family before taking his own life. Since murder mysteries had always intrigued me, I was determined to find out more about the century old tragedy. But aside from an embarrassing and frightening mishap, where I found myself locked inside the mansion's dark entry, I hadn't done much research yet. Now with the gardener's shed and all its grim displays and pictures open for viewing, I might have found my chance. I'd have to make time to visit.