Murder A La Mode

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MURDER A LA MODE

a Coffee & Cream Café Mystery

by

LENA GREGORY

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Copyright © 2023 by Lena Gregory

Cover design by Daniela Colleo

of http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

Published by Gemma Halliday Publishing

http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Greg, Elaina, Steve, Nicky, and Logan,

You are my world. Thank you for believing in me!

Acknowledgements:

This book would not have been possible without the support and encouragement of my husband, Greg. We’ve built a wonderful life together, and I can’t wait to see where our journey will lead next. I’d like to say a big thank you to my children, Elaina, Nicky and Logan, and to my son-in-law, Steve, for their understanding and help while I spent long nights at the computer. My husband and children are truly the loves of my life.

I also have to thank my best friend, Renee, for all of her support, long conversations and reading many rough drafts. I still wouldn’t know how to use Word without her help. I’d like to thank my sister, Debby, and my Dad, Tony, who are probably my biggest fans and have read every word I’ve ever written, as well as my Mom, Judy, and my sister, Suzanne, for all of their support. To my agent, Dawn Dowdle, thank you for believing in me and for being there in the middle of the night every time I have a question. Words cannot express my gratitude to Gemma Halliday for giving me this opportunity. And thank you to Gemma and Chris Hall for their wonderful advice and assistance in polishing this manuscript.

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CHAPTER ONE

I don't know what I ever did to Karma, but that witch sure had it in for me. Twenty-four hours ago I'd been a fairly content twenty-five-year-old, working toward my dream of a career in advertising—sort of—with a steady boyfriend whom I was expecting to propose in the near future. I'd lived in a sublet apartment in New York City that might have been small, but at least I didn't have to wait in line for the bathroom. And then Karma, in the guise of my meddling family, stepped in and ripped the rug right out from under me.

Not that it was unusual for businesses to pass down from one generation to the next, especially in families on eastern Long Island where it was the norm, but they usually went to the descendants with the most education, the most ambition, and the most (or at least some) interest. But, nope. Not in my family.

In the Delaney clan, the family business, at least the most unsuccessful one, went to the black sheep of the family. Namely, me. With a degree in marketing I hadn't yet found much use for—unless you counted enticing customers into braving the lunch special at the small dive in New York City where I'd been a waitress up until about twelve hours ago—I'd still been clinging to hope. Until Marie had decided to return from Europe and wanted to live in her apartment, then Carl had dumped me, and my family had decided I'd be the best choice to take over Jimmie's, my eccentric uncle's mom-and-pop ice cream shop.

Which might not have been so bad if Jimmie's was located in, say, Southampton or Montauk, where a cute little old-fashioned malt shop might be considered quaint or even trendy. No, Jimmie's sat on Main Street in Watchogue, a two-mile long town on the south shore of eastern Long Island where nothing of note had happened since Thomas Jefferson once spent a night at the local inn some two-hundred plus years ago.

Hey, Danika? Uncle Jimmie frowned at me, making the wrinkles in his forehead even deeper and his jowls sag lower, kind of like a shar-pei with anger management issues. You payin' attention, girl?

What? Huh? Oh, right.

Uncle Jimmie was showing me the shop, as if I hadn't spent much of my childhood sitting at the very counter he was now pointing out.

Sorry, Uncle Jimmie. I'm just a little overwhelmed.

He smiled then, his expression softening, and patted my arm. Yeah, well, I can't blame you, what with…you know…what happened and all.

I resisted the urge to groan out loud. Barely. Then, I did what any self-respecting grown-up would do. I ignored it and changed the subject. So, what were you saying?

While Uncle Jimmie droned on about the finer points of the ice cream business, my thoughts wandered to the incident that precipitated my sudden move back home. Carl Lannister, who, after dating me for two years, had suddenly decided instead of proposing he'd break up with me. A nice enough breakup, all things considered. He'd said he wanted to stay friends, but I had become too much like a sister to him. And he'd tapped the freckles spattered across my nose that he'd noted were adorable to make his point. If you ask me, the breakup had less to do with our sibling-like relationship and more to do with his ex-girlfriend, Mary Ellen Carter, rekindling her interest in him. (Evidenced by the fact that I'd found them playing tonsil hockey on his couch the following day when I'd stopped by for my things.) But what did I know?

I sighed, making Uncle Jimmie pause again. Problem?

Uh, no, just…is there any way we can do this tomorrow? I'm sorry. I haven't even had a chance to unpack, and I'm having a hard time paying attention. I'd only arrived late last night, dumped my bags on the floor in my old room, and flopped onto the bed, which had freshly laundered sheets thanks to my mother, the scent of which transported me right back to my childhood.

Sure thing, honey. It's never easy when you break up with someone. Just remember… He lifted one finger in the air as if to make a point then stopped and stared off into the distance, as he was prone to do, hence my taking over his business.

Great. Now my mind was right back on Cheating Carl, and I had no words of wisdom from Uncle Jimmie to set me straight. Not that my breakups hadn't always ended on friendly terms. My tombstone would probably read Danika Delaney, a great friend. Oh, well, I guess things could be worse.

You want a banana split? Uncle Jimmie grinned and bobbed his bushy eyebrows up and down, like two caterpillars playing double Dutch, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his baggy cargo pants, which were tucked into open duck boots. I have chocolate chunk ice cream.

If only my problems could be solved with a vat of chocolate chunk, but honestly, that would only add to my cute, pudgy, girl-next-door look. Especially on days like today when the humidity had my long, wavy strawberry-blonde hair looking more like a nest of orange frizz, like Little Orphan Annie on steroids. What I really needed was a makeover. Maybe sophisticated business owner would suit me. Of course, everyone in town knew me as Martha and Callum Delaney's tomboy daughter, but it had been more than a few years since I'd spent any time in Watchogue, so maybe I could pull it off. That's okay, Uncle Jimmie, but thank you. I just need a little time to get my bearings.

You take all the time you need. I've been running this place for nigh on sixty years. A few more days ain't gonna kill me.

It might not kill you, but what about the rest of us? Harry Martinelli, Jimmie's only regular customer as far as I knew, laughed and slapped the counter where he sat on an antiquated chrome stool complete with a faded red vinyl seat cushion. Harry was about as old as the stool, tall, distinguished, and had a head of thick white hair. His pale blue eyes danced with humor.

You watch it there, Harry. I ain't killed no one yet, but there's always a first time. Uncle Jimmie pulled a stained apron over his olive green button-up shirt, possibly the one he'd been wearing since the fifties, tied it behind him, and donned the soda jerk hat he always wore while working. What can I get you?

Cupa coffee'd be good. Black. As if he had to remind Jimmie when he'd been ordering the same thing every morning for as long as I could remember.

You want a bagel with that? In an effort to increase sales back about a hundred years ago, Uncle Jimmie and Aunt Helen had started offering bagels and Kaiser rolls, along with coffee, and considered it a breakfast menu. Unfortunately, they didn't get many takers.

Nah, I'm good, thanks. He waved off Jimmie's offer and swiveled his stool toward me. So, I hear you're gonna be takin' over the place.

That seems to be the plan. Unless I could find some way out of it without being disowned. The Delaneys didn't just disown you, they stalked you, were sure to run into you on occasion so they could pointedly ignore you, and made your life miserable for a very long time afterward. My mother gave the most deafening silent treatment known to man. To date, everyone who'd ever been disowned had given up and come slinking back with their tails between their legs.

Hmm…hadn't I done the same? Even though I hadn't technically been disowned, I'd definitely achieved persona non grata status when I'd left Long Island to go to college in the city (a choice akin to flat out disloyalty in my family) and majored in advertising instead of business. And if all that wasn't enough, I'd taken up with a drummer in a rock band, thus earning my black sheep status. And what did all that rebellion get me? My old bedroom back…and Jimmie's.

Well, who knows? Maybe you'll liven the place up a… Harry stared at something behind me and jumped to his feet—all right, more like staggered, but the intent to jump was clear in his eyes—and spread his arms wide. Luca, my boy.

I froze in place and didn't dare turn around. Why not just shoot me now, Karma, instead of prolonging the torture?

Luca Martinelli, whom I'd dated all through high school right up until senior prom when I'd gone to powder my nose and returned to find him lip-locked with Heather Teague, cheerleader extraordinaire. Heather had been everything I hadn't—skinny, beautiful, popular, outgoing, sneaky, mean and always jealous Luca was dating me. Of course, he'd sworn it hadn't been what I'd thought, but what else could he have said? Still, I'd known what I'd seen. Huh…whadda ya know? Seemed I did actually have a breakup that didn't end on friendly terms.

The last I saw Luca—since classes had been over by prom and I'd managed to avoid him during graduation by showing up at the last minute, taking my place, then disappearing quickly after—he'd been chasing after me as I ran from the inn where the prom had been in full swing. I'd lost him somewhere around Oak Tree Lane, after I'd turned and screamed at him that I never wanted to see him again. If I wasn't mistaken, which I most definitely was not since I'd kept tabs on him through my sister Meghan, he'd ended up marrying good ole Heather.

Harry had already gone past me and was embracing Luca warmly, which I could see reflected in the glass ice cream case since I hadn't yet summoned the courage to turn around. Ah well, if I was going to live back in Watchogue, I wouldn't be able to avoid Luca forever. Might as well get it over with. So, I plastered on my best smile and turned to face him.

Then I stopped short. The breath whooshed from my lungs, and I couldn't manage more than a sputtered, H-h-hello.

Okay, as soon as I got home, Meghan was getting an earful. While she'd updated me on his whereabouts—college then back to Watchogue—his marriage to Heather, his job as some kind of computer expert, and even his volunteer firefighter status, she'd neglected to mention how gorgeous he was.

Luca had always been good-looking, with dark hair perpetually in need of a cut and gray eyes that could make your stomach tingle. He'd always been athletic, lean, and lanky, and he'd always had a killer smile. But now…

Dani? He aimed that smile at me with enough wattage to melt every ounce of ice cream in the shop.

My heart melted with it. In an instant, I was transported back to my teenage years and the way he'd made my heart go pitter-pat with just a look. Then the image of him and Heather superimposed itself over everything, and my insides went cold. Luca. It's good to see you.

He took a wary step toward me, then stopped, and stuffed his hands into his well-fitted jeans pockets. Danika, how are you? You look…amazing.

Thank you. You look… Wonderful, incredible, like a Greek god chiseled in stone come to life. Good, too.

So…um…it's been a long time.

Yes, it has. This encounter was too overwhelming in my current state. I had to get out of there, needed to breathe, clear my mind, get rid of the pounding headache starting to throb behind my right eye. Anyway, I was just on my way out. It was good to see you, Luca.

Yeah, you too.

I'll see you around. I kissed Uncle Jimmie goodbye, gave Harry a hug, and started past Luca. I was almost to the door when he reached out and snagged my wrist.

Wait, Danika, please. I… He looked around the shop, thankfully empty but for Jimmie and Harry, neither of whom even bothered to feign disinterest. I never got the chance to say I'm sorry, and I just wanted to let you know I am…sorry, that is. I…uh…that is, things shouldn't have ended like they did.

What could I say? I wanted to tell him he'd broken my heart, that he hurt me so badly I'd cried for a week straight, but what difference would it make now? It's okay, Luca. Water under the bridge, but I really do have to get going.

Oh, well, that explains everything, a woman's voice said from over my shoulder.

I whirled toward her. I'd been so wrapped up in Luca's gaze that I hadn't even heard the door open.

And there stood Heather, gaze glued to Luca's hand, which still had a grip on my wrist. A grip that was suddenly uncomfortably tight. I guess now I know why we're getting divorced.

A divorce? Wait, what? Meghan was so gonna get it when I got my hands on her.

Luca dropped my wrist like it was on fire. Heather, please. It's not what you think.

Hmm…funny, those were the same words he'd uttered to me under similar circumstances. Only this time, he was telling the truth.

Uh-oh. A little niggle of doubt crept in. No way. Uh-uh. Forget it. I wasn't dealing with this right now. I'd caught them kissing, for crying out loud.

"And what do I think, Luca? That you'd dump me for someone like her? Heather laughed. I don't think so."

I'm not going to get into this here, Heather. Luca glanced over his shoulder at Harry and Jimmie, who now sat side by side on matching stools, backs to the counter, slurping coffee and munching on the peanuts Jimmie kept for sundaes with their gazes fully riveted on the action unfolding. Man, this must be more entertaining than The Lawrence Welk Show, which Uncle Jimmie still managed to find on some streaming channel or another. It brought back fond memories of my childhood, sitting cross-legged on the floor while he reclined in his lounger drinking a bloody mary.

Heather huffed and spun on me then pointed a finger, interrupting my trip down memory lane. And you're not going to get away with this, either.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if she was glaring at someone behind me, but no one was there, so I looked straight at her.

Heather stared back at me. Don't think for one minute you can prance back into town and take what's mine because that is so not happening. With that, she whirled like a pro on her four-inch Christian Louboutins and stormed out.

Not knowing what else to do, and if I was being honest, feeling a little bad for Luca, I looked him in the eyes and said what any self-respecting ex would say. Good luck with that.

Twin patches of red flamed on his cheeks, which I might have mistaken for embarrassment if not for his jaw clenched tight enough to shatter teeth. Yeah, thanks.

Oo…kaay. Time for me to get out of there. Quite honestly, I'd had about all I could take for one day, and I was seriously considering calling Marie and begging her to let me live in the spare closet. But on the bright side, at least tomorrow should be an improvement. Karma had had her fun. It wasn't like things could get much worse.

CHAPTER TWO

After a semi decent night's sleep, despite my father snoring loud enough to rattle the rafters, I'd decided to start my new life with a jog, or at least a brisk walk, on the beach. Of course, it had taken me close to two hours to get out of the house since I was now last in line for the bathroom. At least before I'd moved out, I'd been ahead of my little sister.

But I had sucked it up and waited my turn, and now here I was, strolling along the shore of the Great South Bay, the gentle lap of the still-cool water nipping at my feet as they dug into the sand.

Meghan had joined me, the two of us squirming out of breakfast and Sunday mass for some girl talk in the guise of exercise. So, what are you going to do? she asked me.

No doubt Meghan was expecting me to say run as fast as I could back to the city, but no way was that going to happen. The way I figured it, I'd gotten the rough part over with all on the first day. Things could only go up from there. I'm going to go into the shop this morning and take a look around. Who knows? Maybe it can be salvaged with a few changes and the right marketing strategy.

That's the spirit. Meghan punched my arm hard enough to leave a bruise. She always was the more athletic of us two. Even though we were only two years apart in school, our paths had rarely crossed, as I'd concentrated more on books and she on sports. A wide grin spread across her face. Now that that's settled, dish.

I don't know what you're talking about.

She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. Oh honey, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

I tried to feign innocence, but I was just not that good an actress. That was okay, though. I'd dump it right back in her lap until I was ready to talk about what went on yesterday, especially the fact Luca was apparently now a free man. Unless of course, they were getting divorced because he had a mistress. Seems to me you left out some major points while keeping me updated on Luca's activities.

She held up a finger. Let me remind you that every time I brought him up, you instantly dismissed me. Claimed you weren't interested.

Oh, right. Well, you're my sister. You should have been able to see through that charade.

She hooked her arm through mine. Nicely done, Sis, but I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me what went on yesterday. Uncle Jimmie couldn't stop talking about it. He said it was the most entertaining thing he's seen since the Jenkins brothers brawled on the sidewalk in front of the shop back in the early nineties.

I laughed out loud, leaned my head against her shoulder. It felt good to walk along the beach with her again. It had been too long since we spent time together. Once we'd both gone off to college and pursued our own interests, we'd been too busy and caught up in our own lives to take the time. Hopefully, that would change now that we were both done with college and living at home again. "What do you plan on doing with your life?"

"Uh-uh. Sorry, but you're not getting off