Rum and Choke

By Patti Larsen

Becks already regrets handing over her beach bar to a production company for the whole weekend, though even more so when one of the players in the popular mixology reality series ends up dead! With her friend and employee, Pika Sato, siding with the victim's assistant despite mounting evidence and worry about her business being threatened by yet more drama, Becks helps Chief Allie Crown figure out who did it--hopefully before Off Key becomes a victim, too!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Jun 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998948079

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

Rum and Choke

Canary Key Cozy Mysteries: Three

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

I’m not often one to just supervise, more used to diving in myself and getting the job done. That’s why it was so hard, that gorgeous Friday mid-morning, to stand off to one side and allow the crew that had moved in and taken over Off Key to do their job and not help.

Oh, how I wanted to help. But I’d already undone a half-hour of work two of the set preppers had carefully assembled by a simple act of what was honestly a mistake as my critical eye noted the carefully piled stack of glasses needed adjusting. The refrain of Don’t help! was far too late as I slid the bottom corner sideways to try to make the look more appealing, ending in all of the artistically piled glasses tumbling down.

Thank goodness they landed in the sand and not on anything hard, though a pair did shatter while I winced and apologized about a million times to the two young women who, though flustered, both shot me grins despite their obvious frustration.

Don’t, the taller blonde said, not even letting me pick up the mess, help.

But— this was my bar, after all.

"Don’t, her partner in design, the stockier brunette, firmly placed herself between me and the now decimated display they’d created for the cameras being set up further out on the beach, the tents and plywood flooring to support them at an angle I now realized meant the glasses weren’t askew after all but would likely look just fine to the lenses pointed in their direction. Whoops. Help."

I got the point and the picture and stalked away to the edge of the sand and out of my bar while the crew went back to treating my place like it was theirs or something.

Not grumpy about it or anything, right? Why had I agreed to this whole kerfuffle in the first place? The reason sauntered to my side and stood next to me, a coffee in her little hand, my friend and employee, Pika Sato, her typical picture of Japanese anime with her straight, black hair in two perky pigtails, perfect straight bangs low over her almond eyes. She’d gone for bright pink gloss today, to match her garishly bright t-shirt and checkered gingham skirt, the floof of white netting beneath it pushing it out into a bell shape over her white fishnets. I always wondered how she could navigate in the giant platform shoes she favored, Mary Janes on steroids in polished white patent leather, but she never tottered and always seemed more stable on her feet than I was in sneakers.

"Hey, bosu." Her mother and father were first generation immigrants, so her Japanese was perfect, but so was her English. Not just the best bartender I’d ever met at barely twenty-five, Pika also worked for the local ME as his assistant, though I was sure at some point I’d lose her to medical school or some kind of wholistic healing practice. For now, she was my weekend partner behind the bar, and I was delighted to have her.

Well, most of the time. At that moment? I was kind of ticked and blaming her for not being allowed to step foot inside my bar. I alternated between a longing gaze for the adorable beach-side and sandy front of Off Key, the only waterfront spot on Canary Key (hopefully for as long as I owned it), mourning the loss of the weekend sales even though I was, quite frankly, being excessively compensated for the rental the production company offered.

It wasn’t just the money (come on, Becks, it was the money), or the fact I had to tell the locals they couldn’t come hang out for three whole days (that went over well and required a town meeting, no less, imagine) or that I’d be losing tourist trade the busiest days of the week (argh, don’t get me started). It was the fact that this was my place, hard earned and longed for like a dream come true only a year ago and suddenly I felt like I wasn’t welcome in the very spot I’d sweat, bled and fought for.

Yeah, it was the money, too.

Thanks for this. Pika either knew I was upset and wanted to make me feel better (not likely knowing her stoic nature) or was genuinely grateful (that one tracked). Either way, her gratitude hit the right spot, sending my grumbling dissatisfaction off to mutter to itself while I sighed and shrugged.

Is your friend here yet? The whole reason for this takeover, it turned out, was an old buddy of Pika’s from Miami. When she’d come to me just two weeks ago—short notice for a production like this one, I was told—to inform me the location for this particular episode of Mix Master Challenge had fallen through and they needed a new one in a hot location fast and would I ever consider…? I’d been won over by her enthusiasm, not typical of the normally cool and even emotionless young woman who somehow used that persona as a means to garner way more tips than smiles ever did. Well, that and her deft skills tossing bottles and mixing amazing drinks. I think my customers loved her carefree attitude and total lack of compassion, laughing at her chilly nature like she was hilarious instead of insulting.

I wished I could pull it off some nights.

She just arrived. Pika’s dark eyes actually lit up, a small smile lifting the corners of her bow mouth, surprising me. I saw that expression on her round face so rarely. In fact, the last time had been two weeks ago when she asked to use Off Key for this very event. I admit, I caved for a couple of reasons. One, it would look good, right? They’d be naming my bar in a national television show. That had to be great for business. But the real reason I’d said yes?

Was grinning gently at me with her pink glossy lips catching the early afternoon sunlight and making her look more like a cartoon character than ever.

I can’t wait to meet her. I hoped that came across as authentic, because despite my cranky state of affairs, I was looking forward to shaking hands with whoever it was that could make Pika smile like that.

"She’s an amazing mixologist." Her enthusiasm startled me all over again, my small friend practically hopping in place, her pigtails bouncing like floppy ears in response to the movement. I’d never thought of Pika as young despite her age. She came across as one of the oldest souls I knew, so seeing such delight in her had me grinning and relaxing into whatever this was going to be.

Not only was she my favorite employee, she was an excellent influence on me. Who would have thought it?

So you said. I was now anticipating a positive outcome. Amazing how a shift in perspective could flip my thoughts from negative and gloomy to uplifted in a heartbeat. You know what? This was going to be awesome. Some of the best mixologists in the US were coming to Off Key to battle it out over two days. I was being paid an obscene amount of money for the chance to have my bar advertised across the country—and around the world, for that matter—while being part of the audience who sampled the drinks the experts made.

Where was the downside again? I was now struggling to find it and, if I’d thought she wouldn’t stare at me in utter horror, I would have hugged Pika for shifting my mood so abruptly.

Come on, Becks. What could possibly go wrong?

Ha. Hahahahahahaha. Oh, silly Hogan. You had to ask.

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Chapter Two

My shift in attitude didn’t last long, did it? No fault of my own, I swear. Because I tried, I really did, as Pika perked and waved like a small child anticipating the return of a loved one, turning my attention from her to the little cluster of people who’d just entered through the back end of Off Key, through the walkway past my restaurant. At least Low Key was still open to customers. I don’t think I could have convinced Canary Key’s community to allow me to shut it down for even a day if not entirely necessary. No thanks to me, this spot I’d bought had become a solid fixture to the people of this adorable little place. I’d been lucky enough that the previous owner—and founder, had been a close friend of my dad’s. In fact, his old college buddy—and the one