Eighty-two

Once again, chaos swept through my coffeehouse. The call to 911 brought paramedics and the police. Poor Mason Dunn was officially pronounced dead, and the second-floor lounge was declared a crime scene.

The NYPD field-tested the gummies that Mason had been eating. Though they were branded as marijuana treats, the candy had been tainted with tranq and fentanyl—a deadly combination.

After that, the police confiscated every bit of food in our shop. Then they shut the Village Blend down until we passed a Health Department inspection, which would take a week or more.

Late that night, my baristas and I met in our closed shop. The second floor was off-limits, so we gathered at the coffee bar. Our situation had never been more dire. My beloved Village Blend was once again teetering on the edge of an existential cliff.

“Even a few days without business will hurt us,” I said. “And there’s no guarantee the Health Department will clear us in a week. We need to find out how the drugs got here. We need solid evidence, and we need to find it as fast as possible.”

Tuck was livid. “If Cody Wood did this, he may have planted even more drugs somewhere in this shop!”

“If they find more tranq here, it’s game over,” Dante said.

“And Driftwood wins,” Esther said, throwing up her hands.

“We can’t let that happen!” Nancy cried.

“Calm down, everyone,” I said. “Let’s use our heads and reason this out. I’m no fan of Cody, but we don’t know that he was behind poisoning Mason. Cold-blooded murder of a young, innocent woman is an extreme stunt, even for him. This could be something else entirely.”

“What else?” Nancy asked.

I told my baristas about Ethan Humphrey’s shocking late-night visit to lay out his theory that his cousin Blair was helping his aunt Addy protect her reputation and fortune.

“Ethan has no hard evidence,” I warned. “But he believes they were behind the brutal murder of Joan Gibson and framed him for it.”

“How could killing Mason Dunn be connected to that?” Dante asked.

“Ethan warned me that because Mr. Scrib’s notebook was such a threat to Addy and Blair, they would do anything to get it back—and permanently silence anyone who learned about its contents. He said there could be more deaths to come.”

“I actually agree with our Boss Lady on that theory,” Esther said. “While I loathe Cody Wood, I don’t think poisoned gummies are his style. If the Driftwood CEO wanted to sink us, wouldn’t he have poisoned our coffee?”

“You’re probably right,” Dante said. “An annoying ringtone is one thing. Murder is something else.”

Tuck turned to me. “Do you know how that deadly cocktail of drugs got into those gummies?”

I nodded. “Mike is in Albany today, but Detective DeMarco from his squad told me that a hypodermic needle was most likely used to inject the gummies with the fatal cocktail.”

“A syringe injection of gummy candy,” Esther said. “That’s right out of Addy’s show, She Slays Me!”

“Second-season opener,” Tuck declared. “ ‘Snake in the Big Apple.’ A villain is killed when he samples a box of Jujyfruits injected with cobra venom.”

“That’s a curious connection, but it’s not proof,” I pointed out.

Nancy scratched her head. “I still don’t get it. Why would Addison Babcock and her granddaughter want to poison poor Mason Dunn?”

Dante spoke up. “I don’t think they were trying to poison Mason, because I’m pretty sure that hoodie belonged to Tony Tanaka. It looks just like the one he wears. And those gummy candies in the pocket looked like the kind he always carries around.”

“I thought that hoodie looked like Tony’s, too,” I said. “But why would Mason be wearing it?”

“I think Tony may have left it here,” Dante said. “He stopped by late last night. I remember he was working by the fireplace upstairs and his hoodie was draped over a chair—”

“He did leave it behind,” Tuck said. “When I went up to light the hearth this morning, Mason was already working up there. The second floor is always chilly until that hearth is lit—and I saw her take the hoodie off the back of the chair and put it on.”

“That’s it,” Dante said. “She put on Tony’s hoodie. Then she found the plastic bag filled with gummies that he always carries in his pocket, and she snacked on the candy.”

“So, we’re back to asking the same question,” I said, “but for a different member of our writers’ group. Why would Addy and Blair want to kill Tony Tanaka?”

“The only way that makes sense is if they believe Tony has Mr. Scrib’s notebook,” Esther said.

“But where would he have gotten it?” Dante asked.

“I don’t know, Picasso.”

“Well, please catch me up,” Dante said, “because I can’t see why Tony would have that old poet’s notebook.”

Esther shrugged. “Neither can I. All I can tell you is that we searched Mr. Scrib’s apartment, and all we found was his pet duck. Then Mr. Scrib briefly regained consciousness in the ICU, and the only clue he gave us about the location of his notebook was to look behind the duck—and I thought he meant Wacker.”

“But we figured out that Mr. Scrib was referring to a Lynn Bogue Hunt duck print,” I explained. “I found double-sided tape outlining the shape of a notebook on the backing behind the framed print. Unfortunately, the notebook was gone.”

“Wait,” Dante said. “Are you talking about the Lynn Bogue Hunt duck print that was hanging in our upstairs lounge?”

I stared at Dante for a long moment. Then Esther and I exchanged glances.

“Son of a bunny!” I cried. “Mr. Scrib wasn’t only using the duck print in his apartment to hide his notebook; he was doing the same thing here at the Village Blend!”

Esther grabbed Dante’s arm. “Where is that duck print now?”

“Tony and I hauled all that old lounge art up to the attic,” he said. “Remember, Boss? Tony wanted to check out the brushstrokes on the Childe Hassam print, and you asked us to help move everything from the hallway to the attic.”

“I remember that day,” Nancy chimed in. “That’s when I first met Tony.”

I closed my eyes. “Behind the duck! That’s got to be the answer. Everyone, follow me to the attic!”

“Wait!” Dante cried.

I didn’t. Instead, I took off like a Space Coast rocket and shot up the back service staircase.