A Spoonful of Trouble: Tea Room Cozy Mysteries, #6

By Elodie Hart

What happens when you have a nosy reporter and two missing people? A whole lot of trouble.

 

Everything had been quiet in Cottage Grove lately. Too quiet. When a nosy reporter shows up in town asking strange questions about two missing girls, well, that was just the beginning of the trouble. Quinn thought they'd seen the last of the reporter, until she ended up dead outside the tea room. The prime suspect? Quinn's best friend, Macy. Now Quinn had to find the real killer, clear her best friend's name, and figure out what happened to the two missing girls—all while planning her future with Garrett and restructuring operations at the tea room. They're in a whole spoonful of trouble and it's just getting started. 

 

If Quinn doesn't figure out who the killer is soon, Macy will be thrown in jail. It's a race against the clock to find the real killer—and time's running out. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elodie Hart
• Release date: Mar 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215639313

Elodie Hart

Elodie Hart was raised on old detective movies and mystery books. She loves a good puzzle (literally and figuratively), cuddling with dogs, and exploring small towns. The Tea Room Cozy Mystery Series is the first of many books she’ll write.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Whenever she left her house in the morning, Quinn always half expected to trip over a dead body these days. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened in two full months—a record around Cottage Grove lately.

Which made her nervous, extremely nervous. It had been too long. The town had been too peaceful. Everything was going too well. Whenever everything was fine, the hammer always fell.

Not that she wanted another murder to happen, but she’d become rather used to strange things happening in town these days.

Shrugging, she opened the tea room and knew she had to get busy. As she walked through the main tea room, she looked at the photos on the walls and smiled. Almost four years ago now, Quinn Sanderson opened her very own tea room in her hometown of Cottage Grove. Ever since then, the quirky little town on the California coast just south of San Francisco had become her home again. She and her best friend, Macy Hardgrave, bought the old mansion and grounds that sat atop a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Macy took the mansion and turned it into a bed and breakfast while Quinn transformed the old keeper’s cottage into the tea room. It had been their dream since they were young.

Now, she was living her dream and running her tea room. Today was no different and she had a whole day’s worth of reservations to prepare for.

In the kitchen, Quinn started making scones. Rather than rubbing the butter in by hand, something she only did when she was stressed and needed to solve a murder, Quinn opted for the electric stand mixer to speed up the process. While she was at it, she made an extra batch of scones for the B&B next door. Once the scones were in the oven, she cut up strawberries for a fresh batch of her strawberry jam to serve with the scones.

Jam simmered on the stove while scones cooled on the cooling racks. In the meantime, Quinn mixed up the sandwich fillings. Everything needed to be ready to go before the first reservations showed up at half past ten. Glancing at the clock in the corner, Quinn realized she still had two hours. Plenty of time for a short break.

Taking a batch of fresh-from-the-oven scones, Quinn carried them over to the B&B. When she and Macy did the renovations, they’d had the contractors put in a walkway between the kitchens of the tea room and B&B so they had direct access to visit each other for a quick breakfast in the mornings or a break later in the day. Whenever Quinn went over to the B&B she always took a tasty treat. Today, it was fresh scones.

As soon as she entered the kitchen of the B&B, everything felt off. Tension thickened the air so much Quinn could barely breathe.

Morning, everyone! I’ve brought scones today, she said cheerfully, trying to dissipate the tension and failing miserably.

Nobody said anything to her in response. At the stove, Miss Lucy muttered to herself and flipped pancakes with louder than normal splats. Lucy Davenport was normally a cheerful lady who always wore floral dresses under her equally floral apron while her gray hair was piled up in a high bun on top of her head.

At the table, Miss Ophelia Brooks glared at the papers in front of her. Affectionately called Serge by the other staff due to her drill sergeant demeanor, Miss Ophelia was more stern than usual. Today, both of them were out of sorts and it put Quinn on edge immediately.

Maids scurried in and out, barely glancing at Quinn. As for Macy, she was nowhere in sight.

Why is everyone so tense? There’s no murderer running around town, Quinn joked slightly, growing nervous as she sat down at the table across from Miss Ophelia.

That nosy reporter is asking all sorts of strange questions, Lucy grumbled.

Two things caught Quinn’s attention. One, Lucy never grumbled, which meant this was serious. And two, there was a reporter.

What do you mean? Quinn asked.

There’s some reporter from out of town staying here and she’s making a nuisance of herself, Miss Ophelia said shortly.

Quinn had no idea what was going on or why one little reporter would put a bee in everyone’s bonnets like this.

I may just call Henry and have him come to throw her out on her rear, Macy snarled as she stormed into the kitchen, pacing back and forth while she seethed with anger.

Quinn couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Macy so worked up about something. Whatever was going on had clearly gotten under Macy’s skin. Everything about Macy was as pristine and elegant as ever, except a few strands of her golden hair that were out of place.

What exactly is this reporter doing? Quinn asked, picking up a scone and slathering strawberry jam on it before handing it to Macy.

She thinks there’s some connection between me and missing girls, Macy seethed, biting into the scone like a dragon snapping at a thief.

Shocked, Quinn stared at her. What missing girls? And what does that have to do with you?

Macy sighed and shook her head. Do you remember Jessica from the youth group I help run? No one knows where she is and this reporter somehow, for some reason, thinks I’m involved.

But that’s ridiculous! You haven’t had anything to do with Jessica for a year! Not to mention, other people are involved in the youth group. It’s not like you’re the one in charge of it, Quinn insisted.

Not according to the reporter, Macy said with a heavy sigh as she finally stopped pacing and plopped down next to Quinn in the kitchen nook, the padded bench catching her.

I don’t get it. Why is this reporter fixated on you?

Macy shook her head and said, I don’t know.

Are you sure she’s a real reporter? I mean, what if she’s just trying to stir up trouble, Quinn said.

Macy blinked and said, I didn’t even think about that. She knows a lot about Jessica and the youth group, so I just assumed she was telling the truth when she said she was a reporter.

There’s a lot of people who like to think they’re reporters and investigators these days. Maybe she’s just an imposter instead of an actual reporter.

She’s faking her identity? But she has a press badge, Miss Lucy asked, setting the hot frying pan down with a loud clank.

Quinn shrugged and said, I don’t know, but let’s not rule out that possibility just yet.

It was a terrifying thought. If someone posed as a reporter, why would they do it? What would be the purpose behind it? And how was Macy involved? Shaking her head, Quinn pushed all those questions aside and focused on her friend.

At five-foot-nine, Macy usually looked like a glamorous movie star, polished to perfection without a single strand of hair out of place. Quinn looked downright frumpy next to her, with a shorter build and riotous red hair. Except for today. Today, Macy’s lithe frame began to wilt at the edges.

I’m sure everything will be fine, Quinn said softly, rubbing Macy’s shoulder in comfort.

I know. I’m just frazzled, Macy said, smiling sadly at Quinn. As if the reporter weren’t enough to deal with, I’ve had a bunch of hang-up phone calls and things keep going missing around here.

What do you mean?

Macy waved her hands around helplessly, saying, Someone keeps calling me but doesn’t say anything when I answer. Sometimes I wait for them to say something and sometimes I just hang up. It used to be different numbers but it’s been the same number every time for a few weeks now and I don’t recognize it.

That’s odd. Maybe it’s just a kid playing a prank.

That’s what I thought the first time, but it keeps happening.

What about things going missing here at the B&B? Quinn asked, rubbing Macy’s back in comfort.

It’s everything. Uniforms from the laundry. A towel. A couple of complimentary shampoos and conditioners. Things like that, Macy said.

Food, too. I may be getting old but I’m not senile. Someone’s been stealing some of our food, Miss Lucy grumbled from where she stood with a hot frying pan in her hands.

Maybe there’s a vagrant wandering through town, Quinn suggested.

Or maybe I’m just going crazy, Macy mumbled.

I don’t think that’s it. If you want, I can call Henry and have him look into things a little.

Macy sighed and shook her head. No, I can handle this myself.

Okay, if you’re sure, Quinn said, but internally she didn’t believe Macy.

Eat up, both of you, Miss Lucy said, sliding hot plates of veggie omelets and toast in front of them.

Quinn kept an eye on Macy to make sure she ate and didn’t just push food around on her plate. Maybe she was fueled by anger or maybe she was really hungry, but Macy ate like her life depended on it—clearing her plate in record time.

Okay. I’ve got to get back to work. See you later, Macy said, standing up and fixing her hair before smoothing down her fitted blazer.

Let me know if you need help, Quinn called as Macy marched out of the kitchen like a general marching onto the battlefield.

Both Miss Lucy and Miss Ophelia shook their heads and stared after Macy.

She’ll be okay, won’t she? Quinn asked them.

Only if that reporter leaves, Miss Ophelia said with a snort.

It’ll take a miracle, Miss Lucy grumbled.

A miracle? They were in short supply of those and Quinn hoped it wouldn’t take that much. Maybe just a firm word from Henry and this reporter would leave.

Quickly, Quinn finished her breakfast and went out into the hallway with Miss Ophelia to spy on the situation. If things were too bad, she could always tell Henry even though Macy insisted she could handle it. Perfect timing, Quinn thought as a woman marched into view.

Who is she? Quinn whispered.

She said her name is Elaine Margoyle, murmured Miss Ophelia.

From her position huddled against the wall, hidden from view of the guests, Quinn watched as Elaine stormed down the last couple of stairs and locked in on Macy like a heat-seeking missile. Her brown bob haircut bounced with every step she marched, and her dark eyes were blind to anyone or anything other than Macy. Elaine was no taller than Quinn but acted like she was a giant. It was like watching a Chihuahua pretend to be a Great Dane.

Tell me what goes on in that youth group, Elaine demanded, glaring at Macy.

Miss Margoyle, in case you’ve forgotten, this is a business. Please behave or I’ll have to ask you to leave, Macy said firmly, not backing down or giving an inch.

Elaine didn’t budge. She simply crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Macy. Part of Quinn wanted to jump in and help Macy, but she knew this was something Macy had to handle.

I’m a paying guest here, Elaine said.

And there are rules all guests must follow. Causing disturbances is a good way to have your reservation cut short.

I won’t be treated this way. I am a reporter and I’m here on business!

Then act like a professional and respect another business and the other guests here, Macy snapped.

Jessica is missing because of you! Where is she? Elaine demanded, nearly screeching now.

Other guests at the B&B turned to gawk at the drama unfolding.

Macy took a deep breath and let it out. Quinn knew she was at the end of her rope and stepped forward to help, but Miss Ophelia grabbed Quinn’s arm to hold her back.

I checked on your claims and there is no indication that Jessica is missing. The police have no missing person reports and the college has no record that Jessica is missing or dropping out. Please stop this.

You are leading those kids to a life of ruin and crime! Elaine snarled.

Macy scoffed and said, You’re out of your mind. I help those kids. Now, you can leave the B&B peacefully or I’ll have the police escort you out.

Elaine seethed, practically smoking from her ears as she glared at Macy before she said, I’ll show everyone the truth about you. I won’t let you get away with this.

I guess you want me to call the police then. Fine, Macy said, turning away to reach for the phone as Elaine stormed up the stairs to her room.

If she doesn’t pack her things willingly, I’ll be more than happy to throw her things out the window from the second floor, Miss Ophelia said, glaring at where Elaine disappeared on the stairs.

Has she been like this ever since she arrived? Quinn asked.

Miss Ophelia nodded and said, From the second she got here, she’s had Macy as her target and none of what she says makes any sense.

Quinn sank back against the wall. This wasn’t a simple problem that would go away just because they asked nicely. It had the potential to blow up in their faces and lead to something much worse.

I’d better get to work. Keep me updated if something happens. And look out for Macy, if you can spare an eye, Quinn said.

Better yet, I’ll keep two eyes on her. You better watch out, Quinn. That reporter might come for you, too, said Miss Ophelia, eyes pinched and brow furrowed.

Understanding the warning, Quinn nodded and walked back over to the tea room with a heavy heart. There might not be a murder, but if Jessica was missing there was still a problem.

She knew things had gone too well in town lately.

Chapter 2

Three years ago, when business at the tea room picked up steam, Quinn knew she couldn’t handle it all by herself anymore. Hiring staff had been the only option if she didn’t want to run around like a chicken with her head cut off. She could do most of it herself, but having an extra pair of hands to help out made the work more enjoyable and less stressful. So she hired her right hand gal, Emily Stephens, a college student majoring in accounting. That turned out to be one of the best decisions Quinn ever made for the tea room, and now they were planning to turn it into a long-term partnership instead of part-time work. If Emily was on board with that idea, that is.

And boy, was Quinn glad she had Emily on hand. After everything that happened earlier over at the B&B, Quinn was off-kilter and full of worry. With Emily around to help with the final preparations for opening and to help handle the reservations, Quinn could breathe a bit easier.

Now they just had to get through all the reservations before closing so Quinn could find out what happened next door.

Hey boss! Emily hissed as she came into the kitchen and saw Quinn.

What is it? What’s wrong? Quinn asked immediately, well used to Emily by now and knew something was amiss.

There’s a lady here who’s making customers feel uncomfortable. She keeps asking questions and writing down the answer—the answers she gets, that is, which aren’t many.

Frowning, Quinn asked, I thought we were fully booked and didn’t have room for walk-ins.

"She just waltzed in