Sticker Sheet Murder: A Sticker Shop Mystery, #1

By Courtney Flagg

Who thought pizza could be so deadly?

During her usual pizza run, Millie Grant stumbles upon a lifeless body amidst a heap of stickers from her very own shop. Now she's murder suspect numero uno.

Determined to clear her shop's name and restore peace to the small Pacific northwest town, Millie takes matters into her own hands...at the risk of the killer taking her life into theirs.

Despite the unwavering support of her witty aunt and her loyal pug, Millie faces a daunting obstacle: an irresistibly attractive detective assigned to the case who keeps her blushing nonstop and seems to be always be one step ahead.

With tenacity and quick thinking, Millie hopes to vindicate her shop and uncover the true culprit, but she's not so sure she can pull it off as each clue that brings her closer to the truth also puts her in greater danger...

Fans of Tonya Kappes and Nancy Coco will enjoy this cozy mystery and keep on guessing until the very end.

Buy now with 1-click and join amateur sleuth Millie on a lighthearted investigation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Courtney Flagg
• Release date: Mar 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201394691

Book preview

Chapter 1

Little did I know, this was going to be the last livestream for my paper planning community. 

And with that, we are done with this ‘Plan With Me’. Until next week, have a great day! I spoke energetically and turned off my top-down camera that sat on a desk-sized tripod. 

My social media followers were always engaged in the conversation about our upcoming plans and random chit-chat. It was like we were all friends, just chatting about what we wanted to accomplish, and any fun memories we had from the previous week. 

That was wonderful, Whitney said with a smile. I really liked how you used the washi tape as a full box. It added a pop of yellow that coordinated really well with the weekly kit. Whitney was a great assistant, especially on the days when we hit over two hundred orders. She was reserved and kept to herself most of the time, but when she let her creatively come through she was great at marketing.

I smiled back at her. Thanks! I really liked it too. The idea came from one of my customers in the online group. I wouldn’t have thought of it.

I started packing up all the planning tools I had used for my livestream, then I went over to the wall that held bookshelves and placed each of the planning tools in their proper place. Suddenly, I heard a loud, Dah-dah-dah!

What in the world is that? I asked.

It sounds like a jackhammer from next door, Whitney said. I walked by last week after my yoga class, and it was empty. The for-lease sign isn’t there anymore. So, I guess someone’s remodeling before moving in.

Hmmm. Well, that would certainly make sense. There’s been a lot of changes happening in our small little town of Mooresville, unfortunately. 

Let’s just say I wasn’t the biggest fan of change.

When Whitney started working for me, I had just moved the shop out of my home and into this office building. I ran out of room for inventory and cutting machines in my home office. I had hoped that one day I could open a storefront and host events in person. I loved the online community, but it wasn’t quite the same as talking face to face with avid stationery lovers. 

Hey Whit, which ones have you done? It looks like we had five from yesterday that we haven’t shipped out yet.

Whitney looked up at me, and I could tell she was trying to recall. I just did the ones that needed to ship to Florida and New York.

Okay, thanks, I’ll start packing the next on the list.  I walked over to the shelving unit that held about two hundred different sticker kits and foils. 

I regretted keeping so much inventory on hand, but it made it easier when I got a large purchase to just grab and pack everything. This person ordered three summer kits and one foil bundle. With all the items pulled, I walked over to a center table and laid them all out. 

I grabbed one mailer, a small sticker freebie, and my branded seal. I jotted a thank-you note to the customer, sealed up the shipment, and added it to our bin to be dropped off at the post office.

It took about three hours to finish all the orders, and by the rumble in my stomach, I knew I needed to take my lunch break. I looked around and didn’t see Whitney, so I figured she must be on her lunch break. We often took lunch at different times, but if planned, we would grab lunch together or make something in our small kitchenette in the back of the shop.

I walked to the back kitchen area and started opening several of the cabinets to see what I had stocked for those days when I forgot to pack my lunch. Everything was pretty much soup and ramen. I wasn’t really feeling like either, so I opened the fridge to see if there was anything in there.

I spotted a drinkable yogurt and my blueberry turnover that I placed on the counter earlier, then snatched a coffee mug and filled it with some brew. Quietly, I ate my lunch and gathered my thoughts. Since I knew there was a sale next month, I was a little frantic. At the end of every season, I do a massive seasonal sale to lower the inventory. Spring was almost over, and soon the summer season would be starting, so I needed to place some spring kits up for sale.

I had taken the last bite of turnover when the door opened and Whitney walked back in wearing sunglasses, with her purse slung around her shoulder and said, It’s beautiful outside.

That’s what I thought when I rode in this morning. 

I even stopped at the park a little to soak up some sun. You know, I had to get my vitamin D. She laughed a little and sat back down at her desk. Whitney’s desk was so organized. She had files and a variety of storage units. It was an organized desk, and mine was a disaster. I always had about five things I was doing at the same time. Everything just would end up on my desk until I needed to finish the project.

My computer dinged, letting me know that I had a new order. I opened it up and printed off a packing slip. Hey, can you add Whimsical Spring to our list—to cut more? We only have one left. I wouldn’t do too many, but maybe five more, I said.

You got it. I will start printing those. And then I will head to the post office once you’re finished with that last one.

Okay, I said, while walking to the center table to finish assembling the order in the mailer. I printed off a shipping label and then added it to the overflowing pile of orders. I love when the outgoing order pile is overflowing. All these people were getting their cheerful stickers mailed from me, and it made me so happy.

Whitney left to drop off the orders at the post office downtown. I decided I needed to take an inventory of what we had and what we needed more of. Walking back and forth from the left side to the right side of the shelves, I got a list of everything I wanted to restock. I went back to my desk, opened the files on the computer and printed them.

Whitney had just come back when my computer dinged again, alerting me I had a new order. I opened it and saw that it was a custom script order. I had a love-hate relationship with these. Not only that, but they required more work since I had to type out the word and make sure the size fit with a particular script font.

Looking at this custom script, I had to reread what I saw. It was the weirdest phrase for a sticker. It read, You’re Next. The customer wanted it written in black ink with one of the bold fonts. I didn’t understand what the appeal was to have creepy texts for stickers. Some people are just unusual, I guess. I started designing the page, then printed it out and added it to the cutter.

Why do you think someone would use a sticker that says ‘You’re next’?

A startled Whitney hopped in her seat. She shrugged and said, ‘You’re next’ could be if they are waiting for something at a store. She went back to cutting the printed kits.

It sure is weird, I mumbled, mainly to myself. I finished the order and added it to the mailer. I looked at the overhead clock and noticed it was nearing four fifteen, the end of our workday. I could see Whitney was gathering her things and making sure we lay everything out for tomorrow.

She went to the back to clean the coffee machine and prep it for the next morning. As Whitney left, I decided to stay a little longer so I could finish up a few things before I left for the evening.

My phone rang. I turned it over and the caller ID read Aunt Ro. Hey! I answered the phone.

Hey yourself, Aunt Ro said on the other end of the phone.

Aunt Roberta, or Ro to everyone, was a retired hairdresser. She and my uncle, who sadly passed away a few years ago, were the ones who raised me after my parents’ death. They provided me with the ambition to always follow my dreams, as life was too precious to let them slip away. So, when my uncle passed, I left my corporate job to open a sticker shop because of my love for graphic design.

Aunt Ro continued, I was wondering if you could pick up the pizza for the book club tonight.

Yes, that is fine. I will find a way, and as a last resort, Toni can drive them over.

Wonderful. The order is all set. Pick up is at four forty-five under my name. We said our goodbyes, and I finished cleaning up the common area and created a pile of things to cut tomorrow.

My watch beeped with a reminder to leave the office. It was almost four-thirty p.m. I was going to be late if I didn’t start hustling. 

I grabbed my notebook off my desk and my pink helmet. After quickly locking the door behind me, I was off to my best friend’s family’s pizzeria where my life was about to drastically change.

Chapter 2

I pulled open the door and heard the gold metal bells ring. They were loud enough to let all the patrons know someone had arrived. A boy of about twenty, with a buzz cut, looked up from the magazine he was reading behind the cash register.

Welcome to Vinnie’s, where we serve every slice with a side of laughter, the boy stated and gave a half-hearted laugh.

Good effort, I thought. I didn’t blame him, as I suspected saying that phrase every time someone walked in or called would get exhausting. Hi there, Gary, I said, looking at the boy’s name tag for a brief second before meeting his eyes. I have a pickup order for Ro.

Let me go to the back and check. I nodded and looked over to where there were arcade games. This was my hang-out spot when I was a teenager. We would all come over on Friday night to play games and eat pizza. The best part was I never had to pay, since I was dating the owner’s son, Giovanni.

I flipped over my phone and pressed the home button. The phone illuminated and showed a picture of Rudy with one of his stuffed toys. Every time I looked at my phone, it brought a smile to my face. The time read 5:05. It seemed like I had been waiting for about ten minutes. I wondered what was taking so long. Where in the world did that guy Gary go?

Looking around, I saw a family enjoying their delicious pizza with the cheese stringing from the father’s mouth. This got the little boy laughing. Glancing in the other direction, a familiar face popped out from the back room that had a sign that read, OFFICE. A handsome face greeted me with a warm smile that I knew all too well.

Hey, Millie. What’s up? Giovanni said while walking towards me to give me a small hug and peck on the cheek.

I smiled at him. I’m just getting some pizza for the Sisters of Crime Book Club. We are discussing a book by Arthur Conan Doyle this time. We rarely read books written by men or even male sleuths, so this time it will be an interesting discussion.

I laughed lightly just thinking about how the older and younger women in the group had different opinions on men, authors, and sleuths. Hercule Poirot was probably the exception since Agatha Christie, a woman, wrote about him.

Is Toni going to be there?

I nodded. Toni, a nickname for Antoinette, was Giovanni’s twin sister and my best friend. We were the three amigos in school and were inseparable, which resulted in Giovanni and I dating in high school. It was fun while it lasted. After graduation, we went our separate ways for college to explore the world and not be pressured to be with each other.

Yeah, she texted me at lunch saying she would be there tonight regardless of if she read the book or not.

Toni was always a month behind the current book. I always suggested to her to start the next month’s book early and leave the previous behind. But she would say she felt left out if she never read the previous month’s, regardless of if she could contribute to the discussion or not.

Giovanni nodded, and we said our goodbyes as he headed out the front door just as Gary, the cashier, came out from the kitchen with three medium pizzas. I gave the boy my credit card to run through the register and waited patiently for the receipt.

I thanked him, but before heading back outside, I wanted to say hi to the owner. Vinnie Rossi, Giovanni and Toni’s father, was your stereotypical Italian as portrayed on television shows. Personally, I think he played it up a little for the patrons of his restaurant. I left the pizzas on a nearby table and walked back to the office.

I saw the door was cracked open a little, so I figured it was okay to knock and push the door open. The door eased open, and my hand dropped from the antique, gold-plated doorknob.

Vinnie, I whispered, hoping for some reply.

Vinnie was slumped over a slice of cheese pizza. There were papers scattered all over his desk. It was like he was trying to find a specific paper among all the others, which just made it more of a mess. I stumbled over and placed my fingers on his neck while dialing 911 on my cell phone with the other hand. There was no pulse. He was dead.

I rushed back through the office door in desperate need of help. The cashier was gone. The little boy and mother weren’t in their booth anymore, leaving only the father sitting in his spot still eating the pizza.

Where was everyone? I could faintly hear the person on the dispatch line say something, but I couldn’t comprehend what was being said.

Sorry, what did you say? I asked, redirecting my focus back to the conversation over the phone. The person on the other end of the line wanted me to explain what happened and if I needed any help. Let’s just say that I required a lot of help.

"Um, I think the owner of Vinnie’s Pizzeria is dead. I don’t feel a pulse, and I don’t know where all the employees are in this building. I was just picking up some pizza for my book club, and then I wanted to say hi since I know, or in this case, knew Vinnie,