Jasmine and Jealousy Read online

  Jasmine and Jealousy

  Port Danby Cozy Mystery #14

  London Lovett

  Wild Fox Press

  Jasmine and Jealousy

  Copyright © 2020 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

  Decadent Chocolate Brownies

  More Mystery!

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Summer was pushing its last breaths of sultry air across the town. The pleasant morning warmth would soon roll into a late August blaze that would turn the sidewalks into white lava and cause the trees lining Harbor Lane to wilt from fatigue. On a positive note, the dense air carried an extra delectable dose of whatever Elsie had baking in her ovens. My expert nose told me it was a batch of her citrus scones, flaky little jewels that were as buttery as they were tangy. And the thick orange glaze she poured over them was, both literally and metaphorically, the icing on top.

  Kingston did a little tap dance next to me as he waited impatiently for me to unlock the door to the shop. He was anxious to get off the hot cement and onto his comfy perch. I couldn't blame him. As much as I loved summer, the end of August always brought with it the deep cravings for a crisp autumn breeze, fiery tree foliage and mugs of spicy cider. One could only consume so much cold lemonade and sandwich so many chocolate bars and marshmallows between graham crackers before one longed for a change of season. (On second thought, I've never had my fill of the latter.)

  The night before had been dry and hot, at least for a coastal evening, and the shop felt warm and stuffy. The heavy perfume from the jasmine I'd been potting the day before still lingered in a fragrant cloud. Before I could head to the office to put away my things the front door opened. The pale orange scone on Elsie's napkin was scented enough to push past the overwhelming scent of jasmine.

  She stopped and twitched her nose. "Wow, is that jasmine?"

  "It sure is. I guess I'll open some windows."

  "It smells strong to me, so I can only imagine what your persnickety snout thinks of it."

  "I'll overlook that you called my nose persnickety because you brought me a citrus scone." I pointed to the napkin. "That is for me, I hope."

  "Well, I didn't bring it for the crow." Elsie handed me the napkin.

  The scone was still warm. I ran my finger through the wet glaze and pushed it between my lips for a taste. "So good. But I'll have to wait for the jasmine to clear out of the air, or this flaky little yummy will taste like perfume."

  "What are you going to do now that Ryder has extended his trip and your one good assistant, Amelia, decided to move to New York?" Elsie reached up to push a strand of silvery gray hair into the clips holding her hair in a bun. Each day there was a little less toffee color and a little more gray. Elsie had already decided that the last thing she needed to do was spend time in a salon listening to some stylist's life story while she had smelly dye slathered into her hair. I told her she'd made the right decision. Her natural gray locks were beautiful.

  Her reminder about my plight triggered a long sigh. "I'm not sure what to do." I walked to the front window and slid it open. "At least I managed to get through most of the wedding season without a nervous breakdown."

  Elsie tilted her head toward the windows. "Speaking of nervous breakdown, has our mutual friend calmed down about the whole thing?"

  Elsie's next reminder about Lola's plight caused another sigh. (It seemed I was filled with disappointed breath this morning.) "I think I've talked her off the ledge," I said, not feeling entirely convinced. My shoulders sank. "I'm afraid there just isn't much I can say to ease her mind or her heart. She's convinced Ryder is done with her."

  Elsie shook her head. "Maybe she was right all along about Ryder taking up with some beautiful scientist in black rimmed glasses that only make her more beautiful and brilliant."

  "How can that be? Every time I talk to Ryder he spends half the conversation talking about Lola. It just doesn't seem possible."

  "Then why doesn't that guy come home?" Elsie untied and retied her apron.

  I stopped the third sigh deciding it was overkill. "I suppose his whole adventure is just too exciting and wonderful to miss."

  "Well, that redhead across the street is going to make us crazy until he returns. If he returns," she added on her way to the door.

  "Don't say that. I need him back as much as Lola. That stinker," I added. It was the first negative thing I'd ever said about Ryder, but his sudden announcement that he was staying longer was a blow to everyone. Lola's last thread of hope for his return had been frayed beyond repair. I'd been the one to push Lola and Ryder together, something she reminded me about constantly. I'd decided to hang up my matchmaker shoes for good.

  I headed into the office to put away my things. The bell clanged as I pushed my purse into the cupboard. "Be right with you," I called. I turned on my computer, grabbed my phone and headed out to the front of the shop. I stopped just shy of the doorway with a quiet gasp. A tall figure wearing a dark gray sweatshirt with a hood pulled up over his head stood in the center of the shop. I deduced it was a man by the width of his shoulders and the size of his feet. He had the drawstring on the hood pulled so tight, the fabric circled around his face, a face that was obscured even more by large, dark sunglasses. It was warm enough outside that the sweatshirt was not needed.

  My fingers tightened around the phone in my hand. His opaque lenses flashed my direction. It was too late. He noticed me hiding at the edge of the hallway. My heart was just starting to clamor in my chest when he reached up and took off the sunglasses. He pushed the hoodie back, and the all too familiar hank of hair fell across his eyes.

  Ryder flicked the hair back and flashed a grin. "Hey, boss."

  It was one of those moments where my mind dashed straight to the possibility that I was still asleep and that the entire morning, citrus scone and all, was just part of a vivid dream. Then the figure in front of me spoke again.

  "I thought you'd be glad to see me." His hair had grown longer and he seemed older, more mature. Even his voice sounded deeper.

  "I'm just waiting for a cat paw to tap my nose and wake me from this very realistic dream." I finally convinced my feet to move, and I stepped out of my hiding spot in the hallway. "But—How? When? Why?" I waved my hand. "Never mind that. Oh my gosh, it's really you." I raced toward him for an exuberant hug. I squeezed my arms around him and then leaned back. "You smell just like you."

  "Thanks, I think?" His brow tweaked.

  "No, I mean I thought you'd smel
l like some exotic plant or flower or at least like that weird chemical smell you get from sitting in an airplane seat for many hours."

  "I've never noticed the chemical smell but then I just have an average nose. I got home yesterday so I've showered since." He hugged me again. "How is that nose by the way? Still solving murder cases?"

  We released each other. "Here and there," I said, humbly. "You've got some explaining to do. But first—how did Lola react when you—" My words trailed off as his expression turned sheepish. "Wait a minute. Do you mean to tell me Lola doesn't know you're here?"

  A sweet, boyish grin kicked up in his tanned face. "I wanted to play a little prank on her."

  I shook my head and stepped back. "Oh no, don't include me in this. I am an anti-pranker. I don't like them. When I get my calendar for the new year, I cross off April first because April Fools is literally the worst day of the year."

  Ryder pushed the sleeves back on his arms. "It sounds to me as if there is an interesting story behind this aversion to what can only be described as the third best day of the year, preceded only by Christmas and Halloween."

  "Oh, there's a story all right, but I rarely speak of it because the entire incident left me permanently scarred." I walked over to the scone, broke it in half and promptly shared it with him. I rarely shared Elsie's treats, but Ryder's unexpected return was definitely a special occasion.

  Ryder brought the scone to his nose. "If I had a cookie for every time I daydreamed or dreamt about one of Elsie's bakery treats, I'd have enough for a cookie bridge to the moon." Without further delay he took a bite and chewed it with his eyes closed. (I almost considered giving him the second half of the scone. Almost.)

  Ryder sat on a stool and glanced at his phone. "We've got a half hour before Lola opens her shop. Let's hear the life scarring prank."

  I nibbled the other half of the scone. "Fine but this will be the only time I speak of it." I joined him on the stools and took a moment to smile at him. "It is so nice having you back home," I said.

  "Thanks. It's nice to be back."

  I took another bite of scone for fortification. "So, my fourth grade teacher, Miss Roberts, was the coolest, most awesome teacher in the world. I went out of my way to show her how much I adored her with big hand drawn cards, wilted flowers and the obligatory apple. I didn't miss one day of school that year. Then came that ruthless day, otherwise known as April Fools' Day. I mean the title says it all. Only a fool should come out on that day. I'm sitting in my desk putting away the new colored markers my mom had bought me. I wanted them in perfect order so Miss Roberts could see how organized I was."

  "You were really working the teacher's pet angle hard," he noted as he finished up the last bite.

  "Oh, I was," I agreed with a nod. "Anyhow, the bell rang and the door opened. I sat up straight and plastered on my best, most charming fourth grade smile. My posture crumpled like a snowman in the sun. It was Mr. Booker, the school principal, a man who wore grumpy and mean with pride. He also always smelled like mustard, but that's a story for another day. Well, you can imagine my utter despair when Mr. Booker announced that Miss Roberts had moved to another school and that he would be our teacher for the rest of the year."

  Ryder's eyes widened. "Holy moly, was it all a prank?"

  "Yes but a long winded one. Mr. Mustard kept up the charade for a good hour, all the way through morning problem solving and journal writing. All I wrote that morning was NO in capital letters over and over again. Filled two pages with it. Then Miss Roberts skipped through the door and yelled April Fools." I held up my hand and waved my fingers to mimic her actions that fateful day. "Needless to say, I reached inside my desk and messed up my markers. I just didn't feel like being organized or the teacher's pet that day. I never looked at her the same. And so you have it, my long, harrowing tale. Please don't include me in your prank." I absently glanced toward Lola's shop and caught a glimpse of her crossing the street. I nearly slipped off the stool.

  "Oh my gosh, here she comes," I said frantically.

  Ryder's mouth dropped. "Miss Roberts?" he asked.

  "No."

  Ryder's face blanched, and he instinctively pulled up his hood as if it had the powers of an invisibility cloak. He jumped off the stool and raced down the hallway.

  "Coward," I called to him.

  Chapter 2

  Lola burst into the store and looked suspiciously around before looking at me. "Is everything all right? I was in the shop early, doing some paperwork, and I thought I saw some sketchy looking guy in a hoodie slink into your store."

  Naturally, my first response was to sputter and stumble over several unintelligible syllables, which only heightened her alarm. Lola adjusted her cap, like a policeman might do before confronting a criminal. She held out her arms and crouched slightly as if she was about to draw on a gunslinger. Then she mouthed something to me with her lips moving in such an exaggerated fashion I had no idea how to interpret it.

  I leaned closer and squinted, apparently under the illusion that it would help me understand the words she was trying hard to mouth.

  "What are you trying to say?" I asked.

  She shushed me and looked feverishly around before performing the same mime act.

  I held up my hands to let her know I was confused.

  She grunted and lowered her hands. "Are you in trouble?" she said sharply. "There. Now you heard me and so did the hooded serial killer hiding in the shop."

  I laughed airily but it dropped like a lead balloon in the room.

  A very vintage David Bowie stared out at me from Lola's t-shirt as she pointed a finger at me. "See, that laugh was as fake as my mom's eyelashes. Something is up."

  "Don't know what you're talking about." I shrugged. It was as forced as the laugh. "It's just me and Kingston trying to get the workday started." Ryder was going to owe me big time.

  Kingston was dancing along his perch, hoping to get Lola's attention. She walked over to him. "Is she lying, King?" she asked.

  "If a serial killer—and might I just add how warped you truly are that your mind immediately leapt to serial killer—" There was no argument on her side so I continued. "If a madman in a hoodie was hiding out in the store, don't you think he would have revealed himself by now." I said the last part with emphasis, hoping to coax Ryder out from his hiding place.

  "Fine, I suppose I was just hallucinating then when I saw a tall hooded figure walk into your shop. Anyhow, here are two things I thought you'd like to know. One, there is a food truck parked near the town square that, according to the women buying coffee at Les's this morning, serves the best Mexican food this side of the border. Apparently, their guacamole is in an avocado league of its own. The women spent at least fifteen minutes telling Les about all the delicious stuff on the menu all while I waited for my mocha cappuccino. And you know poor Les and that healthy food diet Elsie has him on—I half expected him to be overcome with the thought of pulled pork tacos and faint right there on the floor of the shop."

  "Poor Les." I set to work sorting orders to be filled. My face popped up. "Poor Franki. A food truck nearby is not going to be good for the diner. I wonder how long they'll be staying?"

  "Hopefully long enough for us to try everything on the menu," Lola said. She rubbed her stomach. "Those two women were really selling it."

  I pulled out the most urgent order, a birthday bouquet that was to be picked up before ten. "What was the second thing?"

  "Huh?" Lola turned my direction. "Oh, that. Sorry, I was lost in a salsa and carne asada daydream. The second thing—" She swiped her hands past each other as if dusting them off. "I've washed my hands of him. If he prefers to stay out in the hot sticky Amazon with Dr. Curvy, then I'll just have to move on. I'm not getting any younger, after all."

  I stopped my order organizing and smiled at her. "You don't mean that."

  Lola crossed her arms. "I'm serious. I can't sit around here waiting to see if he's going to come back to Port Danby. Obviously, I'm
just not that important to him."

  Light footsteps padded down the short hallway. Ryder appeared in the doorway, looking more than a little hurt. "You'd give me up that easily?"

  Lola blinked at him, silently, her mouth slightly agape. She turned the same stunned expression toward me then back to Ryder, then me again. This went on for a good long minute until Ryder finally spoke.

  "I wanted to surprise you, so I told you I was staying longer." He held out his arms. "Surprise," he said weakly.

  I waited anxiously for the hugs and kisses and shrieks of joy to follow. Lola finally moved. Only, instead of heading toward Ryder, she spun on her heels and headed toward the door. "No, wait a minute," she muttered, stopping just short of opening it. She spun back around and strode confidently toward Ryder. He held up his arms for a hug but lowered them, somehow sensing one was not coming.

  Lola lifted her fists and pounded him once on the chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step. "Are you kidding me with that?" Lola huffed. "Surprise?" She looked sharply my direction. "Were you in on this surprise? Traitor," she snapped before marching out the door.

  Ryder reached up and rubbed his chest. "That didn't quite go the way I expected."

  I pointed to the calendar pinned to the side wall. "Like I said, April Fools' Day is an abomination. And just another bit of advice, never play a prank on Lola Button."

  Ryder rubbed his chest. "Yeah, thanks. Just learned that the hard way. Should I go over there?" he asked.