Rocky Road to Murder

By Lena Gregory

From author Lena Gregory comes a tasty summer murder mystery...

Danika Delaney is thrilled that her old fashioned malt shop, the Coffee & Cream Café, has gotten a catering contract for the biggest party of the season, the Rutherford Manor Fourth of July gala. She’ll be providing desserts for the party as well as attending the exclusive event on Eastern Long Island.

However her path to the gala quickly becomes a rocky road...

Dani arrives at the event, only to find the gala's hostess, Cressida Rutherford, dead! What's worse, one of Dani's signature parfaits sits next to the dead woman, with what looks like peanuts in it—a food Cressida is severely allergic to. Amid the melted ice cream mess, Dani initially blames herself, thinking she made a mistake while rushing with the desserts. However she quickly learns that what appeared to be an accident was actually foul play, and suddenly Dani has to spring into action proving that she isn't the perpetrator. Along with her friends, Dani uncovers a string of people in Cressida's life who might have wanted the socialite dead. Can she prove her innocence and make sure the killer gets their just desserts?

What critics are saying about Lena Gregory:

"Readers are going to fall in LOVE. I can tell you right now that this series is going to be a huge success!!!"
~Cozy Mystery Book Reviews

"I didn’t want it to end!"
~Kings River Life Magazine

"Author Lena Gregory sure didn’t disappoint. She cooked up a tale so tasty I devoured it!"
~Lisa Ks Book Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
• Release date: Jul 1, 2025
• ISBN: 9798215979112

Lena Gregory

Lena Gregory is the author of the Bay Island Psychic Mystery series, which takes place on a small island between the north and south forks of Long Island, New York, and the All-Day Breakfast Café Mystery series, which is set on the outskirts of Florida’s Ocala National Forest.Lena Grew up in a small town on the south shore of eastern Long Island, where she still lives with her husband, three kids, son-in-law, and five dogs, and works full-time as a writer and a freelance editor.

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ROCKY ROAD TO MURDER

a Coffee & Cream Café Mystery

by

LENA GREGORY

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Copyright © 2025 by Lena Gregory

Cover design by Daniela Colleo

of http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

Published by Gemma Halliday Publishing

http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Greg, Elaina, Steve, Nicky, and Logan,

You are my world. Thank you for believing in me!

Acknowledgements:

This book would not have been possible without the support and encouragement of my husband, Greg. We’ve built a wonderful life together, and I can’t wait to see where our journey will lead next. I’d like to say a big thank you to my children, Elaina, Nicky, and Logan, and to my son-in-law, Steve, for their understanding and help while I spent long nights at the computer. My husband and children are truly the loves of my life.

I’d like to thank my sister, Debby, and my dad, Tony, who are probably my biggest fans and have read every word I’ve ever written. To my mom, Judy, and my sister, Suzanne, thank you for all of your support. Words cannot express my gratitude to Gemma Halliday for giving me this opportunity. And thank you to Gemma and Jennifer for their wonderful advice and assistance in polishing this manuscript.

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CHAPTER ONE

Have I mentioned lately that karma and I are on a first name basis? Well, we are. And it seemed she was working overtime this summer, where I was concerned anyway. As if her sole purpose in life was to mess with Danika Delaney. Just after things had started to settle down too.

Eli Sinclair, my part-time barista when he wasn't pounding away on his keyboard from home at his cybersecurity job, was not only working out great, but he'd become an amazing friend. Gwen Rothberg, my best friend since childhood, and I had jumped right back into the swing of friendship the instant I'd returned home to Watchogue. My relationship with Jake, also known as Detective Drop Dead Gorgeous (uh oh, did I have to mention dead?), was finally on track and chugging toward the station—provided I could keep my nose out of any more of his murder investigations. And Luca Martinelli, my ex-boyfriend who'd made me infamous on prom night (by Watchogue's standards, at least) had become a close friend. I even had a pet cat, Patches, and a studio apartment in a converted storage room above the Coffee and Cream Café…

Which used to be Uncle Jimmie's ice cream parlor. He'd asked me to come home when I'd graduated college in New York City to take over the business from him when he retired. Funny thing is, he spent more time there now than ever. Seemed retirement didn't suit him so well after all. Or maybe it was Aunt Helen who couldn't take the idea of him shuffling around the house all day long. Either way, he was practically a full-time employee now when he wasn't out fishing with his best friend, Harry Martinelli. But I digress. Even my thoughts lately seemed to ramble, like a reflection of my life, unfocused and chaotic.

I sucked in a deep breath, filled my lungs with the homey scent of waffle cones and brewing coffee, determined to regain control, to steer my life in the direction I chose. I could almost hear karma's cynical cackle in my head even as the thought intruded. And like any average (in my mind, at least) twenty-six-year-old trying to outwit a nemesis, I ignored it—but I glanced over my shoulder anyway. Just in case she was planning a surprise attack.

Oh, wait, the ambush had already come, which had brought me to the current dilemma that had me rethinking every life choice I'd ever made.

I'd been invited, not only to provide desserts for, but to attend, the biggest event of the season—the Fourth of July bash at the old Rutherford estate. And I'd been free and excited to do so. At least, I had until about a minute and a half ago. Now, I'd gone from standing with my mouth opening and closing like one of Uncle Jimmie's landed trout to sputtering incoherently.

Are ya there, Dani? Hu-llo? Danika Delaney, have you heard one word of what I just said? You answer me right now. I can hear you making weird noises. Is something wrong with you? Are you choking? I keep tellin' you to slow down and take your time when you eat. Should I call nine-one-one? My mom's thick New York accent, and the fear of her sending half the Watchogue fire department to my rescue, finally penetrated the haze of disbelief that had enveloped me after karma's latest blow. I mean, what were the odds—

Last chance, Dani.

Yeah. I massaged my temples, which did nothing to relieve the dull throb. I'm here, Mom.

She huffed in annoyance, and I could practically see her eye roll over the phone. And?

How could I possibly provide dessert for the entire Delaney clan and the Rutherford party? Plus, attend both events. I can't do it Friday, Mom, I—

Oh.

I waited through the long, awkward pause. My grandmothers, one Irish, one Italian, both Catholic, who often served as my conscience, screamed at me from either shoulder. Mom—

No. It's fine, Dani.

But I have—

I said it's fine. Don't worry about it. If you have something more important than family that night… Her silence screamed at me.

Ugh! Mom.

I said it's fine, Dani. Whatever. It's not like I can't handle making dessert for the entire family in addition to dinner. You just go to your thing and have a nice time. Don't you worry about me.

Sure, it was okay that Aunt Miriam couldn't make Sunday, the usual family dinner night. Mom would just rearrange all of her plans. But if I couldn't make Friday with only a day's notice, that was a problem. No way was I letting her guilt me into doing this. And when I got my hands on my sister, she was so getting a piece of my mind. The least Meghan could have done was call and give me a heads-up, so I could have a worthy excuse ready. Why can't you just do the Fourth of July party on Sunday like you'd planned? It's not like we can't have dinner without Aunt Miriam one time.

I suppose we could do that, but she would be so disappointed. And the woman's not getting any younger, you know. Guilt, guilt, guilt…

I gritted my teeth to keep from giving in, then sighed in resignation. We all knew it was a wasted effort. I was always going to cave. All right. Fine. I'll figure it out. I gotta go get ready to open, though.

Sure thing, dear. She perked right up. And you'll be able to come and still provide the desserts?

Um… I sighed. I had no clue how I was going to make this all work, but no way could I disappoint Mom—or Aunt Miriam, even if she did drive me a little (a lot) crazy. Yeah, sure. I'll take care of it. No problem.

Thank you. I knew I could count on you.

Yeah right. I disconnected the call. Although she probably never questioned her ability to talk me into what she wanted me to do. My mother held the title for Queen of the Guilt Trip. I lowered my phone gently to the Coffee and Cream Café's counter and flopped onto a brown faux-leather-covered stool.

Eli stood from the stool next to mine and patted my back.

So… Gwen stood, rounded the counter, and rubbed her hands together. Is this a coffee situation or an ice cream sundae dilemma?

I glanced at the clock over the front door—barely five a.m. I propped my elbows on the counter and cradled my face in my hands. Ice cream. Definitely, ice cream.

I was hoping you'd say that. She grinned, and some of the anxiety plaguing me eased. Thus was the power of friendship and a good ice cream sundae. So, what gives?

I shook my head, still unable to believe karma could be so cruel. Aunt Miriam can't make Sunday dinner this week.

Gwen paused, knife in one hand, banana in the other, and stared at me, mouth agape.

Eli dropped onto his own stool beside mine and began to twist back and forth at warp speed.

Oh, for crying out loud. You'd think I'd announced she'd taken up belly dancing or robbed a bank or something. Sometimes, people just had plans on Sundays. Right? But not in my family. In my family, very few excuses warranted missing Sunday dinner at Mom's. Even when she moved it to Friday. July fourth. The same day as the party at Rutherford Manor, the oldest estate in all of Watchogue. To which I'd been invited. A.k.a., my current predicament.

Eli recovered first. Is your aunt okay?

Yeah, yeah. I waved that off. The full explanation wasn't important right now. Just something she had to go to with Tipp, and since he shows up with her every Sunday for family dinner at Mom's, she couldn't say no.

Gwen shrugged and resumed cutting bananas in half and arranging them in three sundae dishes. So, what's the problem that has us indulging in banana splits for breakfast? Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

A smile tugged at me despite the pressure. To Gwen, any excuse would warrant ice cream for breakfast. Since my mom's big Fourth of July party was scheduled for Sunday, and Aunt Miriam can't make it, Mom's decided to have the party on the actual fourth, which is—

Friday, Gwen and Eli blurted in unison.

Right. Friday. The same night as the party at Rutherford Manor.

And you have to provide dessert for both parties, Eli reminded me, as if I could forget.

Yeah. I rubbed the tension from my eyes and straightened. Sulking wasn't going to solve anything. Besides, karma and I had been on opposing sides before, and somehow, things always seemed to work out. I cringed even as the thought flitted through my brain. Hopefully, karma's attention had been focused elsewhere, and she'd missed my momentary lapse of judgment. And if that wasn't bad enough, I have to somehow find a way to attend both parties.

Well… Eli winced. "You don't have to attend the Rutherford event."

I guess you're right. But I'd been so thrilled at the invitation. I'd always wanted to tour the beautiful estate in person, but they never usually opened to the public. And the dinner events they occasionally held there were way outside my price range, especially considering my dinners usually involved scrounging from Mom's, hitting the deli down the street, or a box of half-stale cereal. Being invited to attend the biggest event of the summer, the Rutherfords' Fourth of July party, had been the highlight of the season for me. But I really wanted to go.

So did I. Eli sulked.

I'd forgotten this would mean Gwen and Eli couldn't go either. Meghan, who managed Auntie Flo's Closet, my Aunt Florence's successful boutique in town, was supposed to go in Aunt Florence's place since she couldn't attend. Now, Meghan would be expected to make Mom's party too. And, since she'd somehow ended up in some sort of hesitant relationship with Eli that I tried not to examine too closely, she was supposed to take him as her plus one. And I was taking Gwen since Jake had been roped into working security for the event.

Gwen, ever the optimist, leaned one ample hip against the ice cream case and shrugged. So, why not do both?

How can I possibly be in two places at once? Even Houdini couldn't pull that one off.

She scowled, straightened, and continued to scoop chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream onto bananas like a pro. Just let me think for a minute.

Sure. But I didn't hold out much hope. I couldn't be at Mom's and the Rutherfords' at the same time no matter how long I let Gwen think.

Wait. Eli sprang from his stool like he'd been poked with a cattle prod. What time is your mom's dinner? They never usually eat all that late, right? And the Rutherfords' event isn't until nine. And everyone knows when you go to a fancy party, it's perfectly acceptable, expected even, to show up fashionably late, right? So, maybe—

You're right. If I didn't intervene, he might well ramble until we missed both parties. I didn't ask Mom what time she wanted the desserts, but I would guess no later than six or seven.

Gwen ladled on a generous serving of hot fudge. Did you ever tell your mom what kind of dessert you were bringing?

No, and she never requested anything specific. And I hadn't thought much about it. I was trying to take care of the Rutherford event first, and then I would have had all day Saturday and most of Sunday to work out a menu for Mom's.

Eli shrugged. So, just make the same desserts for both parties, deliver them—

Someone's coming by to pick up the Rutherfords' trays. My brain ratcheted into overdrive. This might actually work, after all.

Even better. Eli's grin widened, the joy spilling over to light up jade-colored eyes framed by thick, dark lashes any woman would envy. I'll come in and help you make up the desserts. Once the Rutherfords' are picked up, we'll take the rest to your mom's, enjoy the party for a little while, then head out to your 'work function'… He made air quotes with his fingers. …at the estate.

You know… I ran through the plan in my head, paying especially close attention to the timing. I hadn't planned on closing early Friday, but I would have to if I were going to get everything ready by say… sevenish. And work, if you could call the Rutherford event that, would be an acceptable excuse to leave Mom's early. I jumped up and gave him a quick one-armed squeeze. I think this just might work. Thanks, Eli.

Twin red patches flared on his beautifully tanned cheeks. What are friends for?

Okay, let me just call Mom and make sure she's okay with the parfait. I grabbed my phone, hit her number, then tapped my foot as I waited (I'd like to say patiently, but that would be a big fat fib) for her to pick up.

Hullo?

Hey, Mom.

Dani?

Yes. As if someone else would be calling from my number and addressing her as Mom. I just wanted to check in and see if ice-cream parfait would work for dessert for the party?

Ooh, the ones with the bananas and peanuts?

Of course, she wanted peanuts when Mrs. Rutherford had made it clear she was allergic. But the way this day was going, I'd just be grateful if I didn't need a fully different dessert. Yup.

In the mason jars?

Not that it tasted any different in a plastic cup, but okay. I was doing mason jars for the Rutherfords anyway, since they'd opted for a rustic theme, and I'd ordered plenty extra knowing Eli would be helping to prepare the desserts, and he could be a little on the clumsy side and was prone to accidents. Sure thing.

That would be perfect.

Great.

Eli nudged me in the ribs and pointed to his bare wrist.

I frowned at him.

Time, he mouthed.

Oh, right. What time are you having dinner?

We'll start setting out food around six. Which meant, if you arrived one minute after six, you'd get the evil eye for being late.

Sounds great. See you then, Mom. Love you.

Love you too, dee-uh. Mom-speak for dear.

When I disconnected, I felt as if a weight had been lifted, lighter than I had all morning. Then I eyed the banana split Gwen set in front of me, laid a hand over my stomach, and groaned.

What? Gwen lifted a perfectly sculpted, dyed magenta to match her springy curls, brow at me. You don't want it?

Oh, no. I grabbed my spoon off the napkin before she could get any ideas about taking the sundae away. I definitely want it. I just know I'm going to feel about ten pounds heavier after I eat it.

She winked. That's okay. You'll run it off as soon as you open anyway. You've been pretty much packed since school let out and the summer tourists started passing through town on their way to the Hamptons.

Huh. That's true. Considering that, and the morning I'd had so far, even though it was barely past five, I dug in with gusto. Score one for me, karma.

CHAPTER TWO

The following afternoon, I plastered on a smile even as my gaze skipped past the next customer in line to the clock over the door. Five past four, and I still had a mile-long line. Not that I was complaining, but I had to get started on the desserts if I was going to make it to Mom's on time and the Rutherfords' at all. I'd planned to close at four, but apparently half of Watchogue needed to celebrate Fourth of July with ice cream, right before dinner time. Go figure. Any other day, I'd be thrilled with such a line.

Ron Hart, who'd owned the Watchogue Deli for as long as I could remember, smiled at his wife, Sally. Do you know what you want, dear?

The two of them had been married forever, raised three now-grown children together, and worked together all day, every day at the deli. And yet, he still looked at her with complete adoration. I resisted sighing out loud and reminded myself I didn't work with Jake. Or at least, I wasn't supposed to. It just seemed I kept ending up involved in his cases through no fault of my own. Mostly. And he kept insisting I stay out of his murder investigations and concentrate on running the Coffee and Cream Café, which I'd promised to do. And I had