The Cappuccino Job

By Eleni Dean

Golden Girls meets Oceans 11 in a coastal Australian town

 

When divorced sixty-something Julia returned to the sleepy beach side town of Opal Bay after fifty years, she expected a quiet life.

Little did she know.

 

After meeting an old friend by chance over cappuccino and cake, Julia enters a world of small-town intrigue, lies and treachery, and finds a brand new hobby - a thirst for revenge.

Because no one would ever suspect a gang of grey-haired ladies, would they?

 

Filled with friendship, cake and mischief, The Cappuccino Job is a fun cosy heist adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anagram Books
• Release date: Mar 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224449613

Book preview

Chapter One

The First Wednesday

Julia had always suspected her sweet tooth would get her into trouble. But when she stopped at a cafe on a whim for a little sugary pick-me-up, she had no idea where her innocent hankering for cake would lead her.

After a fruitless meeting with her late Uncle Joe’s condescending solicitor, where she left more confused than when she arrived, the delights inside Caffeine Queen were too much to resist. All of a sudden, she was inside, ordering a flourless orange cake and a cappuccino from the bald man behind the counter.

‘Julia? Julia Munro?’

At the unexpected sound of her name, Julia’s stomach flipped like a pancake. No one had called her Julia Munro in over forty years. Who on earth knew she was back in Opal Bay?

A vaguely familiar face waved at her heartily from across the room. The woman sat at a table piled with torn wrapping paper, coffee cups and cake, alongside two other sixty-something women. Julia hesitantly waved back and the broad-shouldered woman with salt and pepper-coloured hair in a neat ponytail leaped up out of her seat and bustled towards her. Was it too late to run? Not that it would be easy with Julia’s dodgy knee.

‘It is you - Julia Munro! What are you doing here, stranger?’ The woman grabbed at her arm, and her puppy-dog eyes were wide and welcoming. ‘Look at you, you haven’t aged a day.’

Julia smoothed back her grey curls, knowing it was a complete lie. She squinted at the beaming face and tried to peel back the wrinkles. Raspberry liquorice, coconut tanning oil and The Carpenters. ‘Bernadette?’ she guessed.

‘I knew you’d remember me!’ Bernadette clapped her hands with delight. ‘Everyone calls me Bernie now. This is such a coincidence and guess what? It’s my birthday. Come and join us.’

‘I don’t want to interrupt—’

‘Don’t be silly. Come on.’

Julia chewed her lip and pretended to check her watch. But in truth, she didn’t have any other plans for the day. Not even a shift at Bayside Bits & Bobbins. And Bernie had been the only nice local girl she’d met here in Opal Bay, the small seaside town three hours north of Melbourne. Her only friend back in the days when her family spent the summer holidays at Uncle Joe’s shack. She nodded and, while Bernie rustled up a fourth chair, Julia explained her change of plans to the elegantly browed man at the counter.

‘Sit, sit,’ Bernie said and Julia tentatively approached the table of strangers. ‘Everyone, this is Julia Munro. A ghost from the past.’

With a pasted-on smile, Julia took a seat between Bernie and a woman with a smart, asymmetrical grey bob and piercing eyes behind red-framed spectacles. ‘This is Sonya. She’s a relative newcomer to town. How long has it been now?’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Sonya said in a thick and serious-sounding Eastern European accent. ‘Eight years in December.’

‘Five minutes in Opal Bay time,’ Bernie said. ‘And this is Esther. Another blow-in.’

‘Charmed.’ Esther replied in a booming voice. She leaned across the table over the unwrapped gifts and offered a limp hand like royalty. Her hair was dyed chestnut brown and piled on her head with glittering combs. With high cheekbones and smooth pale skin, she was one of those beautiful older women Julia always secretly hated.

‘Are you staying at your uncle’s house?’ Bernie asked. ‘Sorry for your loss by the way. Good innings though. What was he? Ninety-something?’

‘I moved up here about six weeks ago,’ Julia said with a nod.

Bernie frowned. ‘Permanently? In that shack?’

Julia cringed, picturing her drafty fibro weekender in the hills above town. ‘It’s exactly as you’d remember it.’

‘You’ve moved up here into a tumbledown house?’ Esther eyed her up and down with a wicked gleam. ‘I can sense a juicy story here.’

Before Julia could reply, the bald man appeared with her cappuccino and a small orange cake glistening with syrup. ‘Who is this, lovely lady?’ he smirked. ‘Another cappuccino drinker, I see. A new recruit to the gang?’

‘Ron, meet Julia,’ Bernie said. ‘An Opal Bay resident from the old days. Ron makes the best cake in town.’

All Julia could do was mumble in agreement, she’d already plunged in and the sticky orange cake was crumbling on her tongue.

‘Welcome, Julia; but you have to watch this bunch,’ he replied with an arched eyebrow. ‘They’re trouble.’

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Esther said. ‘He’s the real troublemaker.’

‘Cheeky.’ Ron tossed his head and sauntered away.

‘I heard you were living in Hawthorn,’ Bernie went on while Julia’s mouth was still full. ‘Or somewhere posh in Melbourne. And you have a daughter?’

‘Dani, yes.’

‘Have you come up to renovate the shack? Or demolish it? Sometimes that’s just easier. Are you and your husband retired now?’

Julia shook her head. ‘Just me.’

‘I’m sorry. Is your husband no longer with us?’ Bernie winced. ‘Neil is always saying I put my foot in it.’

‘Divorce.’

‘Replaced you with a younger model?’ Esther scoffed. ‘Urgh. Men.’

With her fork stopped in mid-air, Julia gulped. It was time to tell her story. Again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d told it over the last year, and yet it never got any easier.

‘Not quite,’ Julia muttered. ‘Money problems.’

‘Unwise investment?’ the Slavic Sonya asked.

‘You might say that,’ Julia mumbled into another bite of cake. ‘Nigerian email scam.’

Bernie guffawed and Sonya’s face rippled into a bewildered smile.

‘What did she say?’ Esther craned forward, cupping her ear. Sonya repeated what Julia’d said and Esther let out a cackle.

‘You always were a scream, Julia,’ Bernie chuckled.

‘Unfortunately, it’s true,’ Julia said.

All three women leaned in, their eyes as round as cupcakes.

‘My husband. Ex-husband. He lost all our money. All our life savings on an email scam.’

Bernie reached out. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘And despite everything, he still won’t admit he was wrong. It went on for months, hiding it from me, giving them more and more until there was nothing left.’

‘Fool,’ Esther said.

Sonya nodded. ‘You are better off without him.’

‘So here I am,’ Julia said, her body slumping like a botched soufflé. ‘Back in Opal Bay after all these years.’

‘Well, I’m glad to see you again,’ Bernie said with a warming smile.

‘Thanks to Uncle Joe, at least I have somewhere to live. And now I’ve got a part-time job. I’ve just started a few shifts at the Bayside Bits and Bobbins.’

‘You work for that Sullivan woman?’ Esther sneered and Julia hid a snort with a sip of coffee. She’d already taken to calling her new boss ‘Snide Sally’ under her breath.

‘We’re here every Wednesday morning at ten-thirty,’ Bernie said. ‘If you’re free, you’re very welcome to join us.’ The two other women nodded enthusiastically.

Julia returned their smiles. Maybe she would. Ron’s cake was as delicious as promised, and after six weeks on her own, grieving her old life, she needed a few friends, even such curious ones. None of her old gang seemed willing to drive the three hours from Melbourne for a visit. Despite their denials, it appeared her friends had chosen sides with Geoff. And after ten short minutes, Bernie and her crew had already shown more sympathy.

As Julia finished her cake, Bernie filled her in on the past fifty years. ‘Trained as a nurse. Married Neil. Two girls and a boy. Four grand-kiddies and another one the way...’

Bernie stopped talking as three mature-aged women pushed through the door. The first woman, trim and fit with perfectly styled caramel-streaked hair, strode towards the counter like she owned the place. Her pointed nose and beady eyes were awfully familiar. For the second time that morning, a long forgotten memory unfurled. It was the summer of 1970 all over again and a blonde girl was strutting past the surfer boys in a tiny bikini in exactly the same way.

‘Is that?’ Julia whispered to Bernie.

‘Anthea Noonan,’ Bernie grumbled. ‘McLeavy now.’

‘And the Whitehead Twins?’ Julia couldn’t help but stare at Anthea’s companions. Identical twins, both tall and angular, they followed Anthea like sheep. Had anything changed in Opal Bay?

In a loud voice, Anthea ordered three skinny lattes.

‘I thought they went to Esplanade Espresso?’ Esther pouted.

‘Closed for renovations,’ Bernie replied then groaned. ‘She’s coming over.’

‘Happy birthday. Bernie, I presume.’ Anthea glided up to the table. ‘Sixty-eight?’

Bernie narrowed her eyes. ‘We were in the same year at school. You know full well how old I am.’

Anthea smoothed back her hair. ‘And how’s that husband of yours? Keeping well?’

By some trick of nature, Bernie narrowed her eyes even further. ‘He’s fine,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘And Esther. Look at you. Another one of your interesting outfits. Very bohemian.’

‘Paris. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’ Esther replied but Anthea’s cool smile didn’t waver.

Then like a cold breeze, Julia felt Anthea’s gaze shift to her. She lowered her eyes and stirred another unnecessary sugar into her coffee.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Anthea McLeavy, former Mayor of Opal Bay. Are you a friend of Bernie’s? Visiting our beautiful little town?’

‘No,’ Julia mumbled. ‘I’ve moved here.’

‘From Melbourne? You’ve made an excellent decision. You won’t regret it. Do you play golf by any chance? I’m the Managing Director of the Opal Bay Golf Club.’

Julia shook her head. She’d rather poke her eyes out with a crochet hook than swing a club.

‘Shame. We have a vacancy and a special tournament coming up this Saturday, The Peninsula Ladies Gift, and poor Lorraine here has done something to her elbow.’ One of the Whitehead Twins rubbed at her arm. ‘But never mind. We still have a fabulous bunch of ladies, and I’m confident this year, we finally have the Cup in the bag.’

Esther rolled her eyes.

‘But must go. Need my caffeine fix before we go for another practice round. Sorry I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Julia Rayner.’

‘Hope to see you again soon.’ Anthea sashayed off to a table by the window and the Whitehead Twins scuttled along behind her without saying a word.

‘New members?’ Bernie spat once Anthea was out of earshot. ‘My membership was refused. Three times. And when is she going to stop sniffing around my Neil?’

‘What did she mean my outfit was interesting?’ Esther fumed. ‘She wouldn’t know couture if it slapped her in the face.’

Julia glanced over at Sonya. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Welcome back to Opal Bay.’

And that’s how it all began.

FRIDAY

Friday afternoons were always busy in Bayside Bits & Bobbins. As Snide Sally had explained during Julia’s first week, ‘Our out-of-town ladies are often disorganised and leave behind a needle or miscalculate their remaining skeins. Or they’re amateurs bored by their families and looking for something to do. And that’s why we’re here to help’. Julia had also noticed a different class of weekend browser, groups of giggling women on a hen’s weekend, wandering around the shop with growing disappointment when they realise the lack of ‘novelties’ for sale. Unfortunately for them, Sally’s stock was strictly G-rated. But this type of customer soon exited the premises under Sally’s withering glare.

This particular Friday, Snide Sally was busy serving a woman and her phone-hunched granddaughter while Julia worked on the front window display. With November fast approaching, Spring Carnival was the theme with rows of fake flowers and feathered fascinators, despite the fact that the nearest horse racing event was three hundred kilometres away.

‘Melbourne Cup is a big deal everywhere, Julia,’ Snide Sally said before Julia could voice a word of protest. Perhaps her boss could read minds, although Geoff had always said she had a terrible poker face. ‘And everyone likes an excuse for a champagne breakfast.’

This was a statement that Julia couldn’t argue with, and so she got on with the job of blu-tacking fake pink roses to the back of the plywood display.

After finishing one row, she straightened her spine. She was rubbing a twinge in her lower back when she noticed Sonya rushing past the front windows. Julia raised her arm to knock on the glass until she saw her new friend’s face. Sonya’s scowl was as black as burnt toast. She watched on helplessly as Sonya marched by without a glance in her direction and disappeared into the Opal Bay Veterinary Clinic next door.

Pulling her mobile from the pocket of her faux Laura Ashley floral apron, part of the Bayside Bits and Bobbin’s cringe-inducing uniform, Julia tapped Sonya a message. Since their meeting on Wednesday, Sonya had somehow tracked down Julia’s phone number. After a bizarre phone conversation which Julia only partially understood, Sonya explained she was some type of computer consultant and recommended Julia downloaded a messaging phone app called Zelle. She insisted Zelle was safer. Something about encryption. Julia took her word for it and they’d been chatting on it ever since.

‘Are you OK? I saw you go into the vet.’

Snide Sally loudly cleared her throat and Julia almost dropped her phone. For a voluptuous woman, Sally was very stealthy. ‘Busy?’

‘Sorry,’ she muttered and immediately turned back to the next row of plastic daffodils.

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded on the glass. A grim-faced Sonya was standing on the footpath. Checking for Sally, Julia found her boss huddled over the computer at the counter near the back wall, and took her chance to scoot out the door.

‘Oh, Sonya, what’s wrong?’ she asked, easing the shop door quietly closed.

‘It’s my Hedy,’ Sonya sighed. Behind her glasses, her eyes were as puffy and red as plums.

Sonya’s avatar on Zelle was a photo of two black-faced German Shepherds named Ada and Hedy. Her dogs were the only bit of information Julia had gleaned about Sonya’s private life so far.

‘She’s been sick all morning,’ Sonya said. ‘We went for our usual walk along the bay and round the golf course point. She was fine when we got home but then she started to vomit and cry. So I rushed her here. They’ve pumped her stomach.’

Julia nodded sadly. ‘Dogs will eat anything.’

‘Hedy is a good girl. Not like Ada. She never eats garbage off the footpath.’

‘Will she be alright?’

‘Hopefully, but the vet can’t promise anything.’