Mojit-Oh-No!

By Patti Larsen

When a new yacht comes to port on Canary Key, the crew naturally ends up at Becks' bar, bringing their drama to Off Key with them. While she's used to scandal, the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in another murder investigation. But when she finds a dead body on the deck of the Mojito, she's out of luck! And now that Chief Allie Crown has made her the official forensics investigator for the department, Becks has no choice but to return to the life she left behind and do her best to help solve the mystery without becoming the next victim in book two of the Canary Key Cozy Mysteries!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Jun 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998948062

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Mojit-Oh-No!

Canary Key Cozy Mysteries: Two

Smashwords Edition

Patti Larsen

Copyright 2023 Patti Larsen

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Chapter One

The sunset flashed orange and red against the cloudless sky, darkness pushing the glowing yellow orb down toward its watery rest over the lip of the golden sand, quiet waves barely making a sound as the retreating tide did its bit to make my slice of paradise the only place in the world I wanted to be.

Nope, sunsets on Canary Key never got old, nor did the boisterous crowds that chose my bar, Off Key, every night of the week. Of course, it helped that I was the only beach gig in town, but I liked to think that my place would be a hotspot regardless.

Location, location, location. While I barely had time to register the stunning departure of the sun for the overtaking night, don’t for a second think I took it for granted. I’d be on my own in a few hours, cleaning up for the evening without another soul in sight and always took the time to look up at the stars, to breathe in the ocean air, and appreciate every last moment of this dream life I’d found myself living.

Another mojito, please. I grinned at the young woman who leaned into the bar between two older gentlemen who seemed resigned to sipping their warming beers between bouts of talking about the good old days. She didn’t seem to notice or care that the pair of locals sighed heavily at her intrusion, pulling away from her as she flashed me a big, happy smile while handing over a ten-dollar bill.

I quickly tossed some mint and lime slices into a glass, reaching for my muddler, crushing the items together to release the flavors, the scent powerful as I dove into the ice box. Celebrating tonight?

She shrugged at me, glancing over her shoulder at the others at her table. I’d seen them come in but didn’t recognize them. Tourists were always fun to talk to. Not particularly, she said. Just a quick pitstop on our way to Key West, thought we’d come ashore.

That told me a lot. I threw in an extra half ounce of rum over the sugar I’d added to her glass, finishing it off with top-up of club soda before embellishing with another slice of lime on the side. You’re from the new yacht in dock? While nice boats sailed through all the time, this one was a first timer, so of course, I noticed, as did everyone else on the key.

"The Mojito, naturally, she said with a wink, tidy black bob and perfect bangs thick over her dark eyes, round cheeks tanned past her Asian coloring. She saluted me with her glass. Kind of perfect, right? Thanks for the drink."

I watched her rejoin her crew, already on to topping up both locals with more beer before they could complain by the time she sat down with the other three crewmembers. While none of them were in uniform, per se, their casual shorts and t-shirts felt far more relaxed than the overdone tourists who thought high heels and wedge sandals suited the sandy surface of the beachside bar or that skimpy skirts and miniscule tops were a good choice for drunk dancing after a hefty sunburn. Not my problem and, frankly, kept my business booming, so I just grinned and made drinks while the music finally turned from semi-sedate to the beginning of the evening’s encouragement to dance.

My friend and usual DJ/karaoke host/general playboy man child, Jasper Dunlop, (DJ Dun-it, snort), was already behind the speaker stack at the computer, loading tonight’s playlist and grinning at the gaggle of young women who’d risen to come to the edge of the dancefloor in anticipation of a party. While I might not have agreed with Jasper’s life choices, he was a perfect perpetually young and handsome Mr. Right Now to run the entertainment side of Off Key and while it was never an official posting that I recalled offering, he’d gone from volunteering parttime to collecting a paycheck—and tips, you better believe it—regardless of what I’d originally intended for the bar.

Another of the yacht’s crew came to my post, nodding to me as the two locals finally gave up their beers with sour looks and headed out. I cleaned up their glasses, my early concern they’d avoid my place long gone, knowing instead they’d be back tomorrow night like clockwork making it easier to carry on and smile like I meant it to the newcomer.

A round of tequilas for my crew, she said, towering over the bar, dark hair in a firm ponytail, lines around her eyes and mouth deeper than I expected. Both of her big hands settled on the edge of the bar as a pair of giggling girls tried to scoot in beside her and take the recently vacated seats, displacing her. Clearly, she knew how to hold her ground, not even looking their way, no nonsense attitude earning my respect as I nodded toward the table she’d come from.

"The Mojito? I spun for my favorite bottle and quickly filled four shot glasses, pushing them toward her. Nice to see your boat in dock. On the house."

I didn’t often supply free drinks, but if they were going to be regular visitors to Canary Key, I didn’t mind fronting a bit of tequila to ensure they spoke nicely of me and my place. I’d learned quickly that some comped alcohol and kindness went a long way to making friends in this part of the world that led to happy business.

Her stern expression softened somewhat, and she even managed a smile. Melanie Lupe, she said, offering her hand. I shook hers, noted the power in her grip, the confidence she radiated. Some tall women I knew tended to slouch, to try to hide their height, but not Melanie. The captain of the Mojito seemed perfectly confident in her size, pushing six feet at least and with shoulders like a man.

Becks Hogan, I said. Welcome to Off Key.

Thanks, Becks. She easily palmed the four shots and turned back to her table, covering the distance in long strides while the two girls who’d tried to oust her huffed their way onto the stools at the bar. I carded them while Jasper, dark hair perfectly styled catching the light, calculated scruff the ideal contrast on his wide jaw only making his sea-green eyes all the more alluring, stepped out with a microphone, waving to the crowd.

"Who’s ready for a dance party?" I grinned as the two girls squealed and exited quickly with their drinks, credit card left with me for their tab while they hurried to join the fun. My fellow bartender scooted past me on the left, Pika Sato wiggling her eyebrows at me while she slung a bottle of vodka, free pouring a perfect ounce into a short glass she then filled with ice and orange.

Looks like Jas has competition tonight. Pika slid the drink she’d just made to the customer before whirling to retrieve two bottles of beer from the cooler, her short, flared skirt flying, tiny Off-Key tank tied at her midriff. I’d been initially annoyed she’d taken a pair of scissors to the new uniform shirts I’d bought us, but quickly accepted Pika would be Pika, and that since the Japanese anime princess who could bartend circles around anyone I met she had the body for it, that meant she also had the tips to show it.

Even if her favorite expression was flat unkindness that somehow meant more money, not less. Go figure.

Not that I couldn’t have shown some skin of my own, though I’d passed forty and just didn’t feel like making that my persona. Besides, I had a reputation as a business owner, right? Showing skin was a younger woman’s game, by choice, always.

Now that she mentioned it, I took note of the tall, and admittedly gorgeous young man who’d risen from the yacht crew’s table to join the squealing girls on the dancefloor, quickly gyrating his way into the midst of the excited partiers. At least he was more their age. While Jasper was also a very well put-together human being, his age—closer to mine at forty-one than the women who now did their best to pull sexy moves despite the alcohol in their systems—always made me uncomfortable. Not that he was about doing anything reprehensible past flirting with girls who could be his daughters. (Just, ew.) It was the idea of it that made my skin crawl somewhat and though I adored him, I really wished there was another way.

My bottom line disagreed, but whatever.

Melanie returned shortly after, grinning at her crew member’s obvious fun. He didn’t seem to mind the number of hands tugging at his t-shirt or the bumping hips aimed in his direction.

More tequila? I reached for the bottle, only to have her chuckle and shake her head.

That one doesn’t need more, she said, clearly amused, dark eyes sparkling. Just a beer, thanks. She named her brand and had it in hand a moment later, bill sliding over the bar while I made change.

He’s certainly enthusiastic, I said.

Melanie laughed. Kalin’s a lot of things, she said, and enthusiastic is a very polite way of saying it. She leaned into the bar, sliding into one of the empty stools. I had a window of quiet, Pika filling two orders at once, and took a moment myself to empty