Tea Cups and Carnage by Lynn Cahoon Page B

Even without the crime scene tape, the Coastal Inn gave off an air of danger and malevolence every time I drove by the place. I handed her a South Cove map and circled the Ocean Motor Court. “It’s just past the Inn on Highway One.”
    The maps had been Mary’s brainchild and I loved them. As part of their chamber of commerce dues, each business got a spot on the map and several, like mine, had paid for advertising slots on the back. I used them to direct tourists to other businesses, and I’d seen many people using them to plan their walking tour of the town.
    A rumble came from the outside, and we both turned toward the noise. As the sound grew, the large motorcycle I’d been seeing around town sped past, the guy still wearing the pig on his back. My eyes widened and my arm went up in a fist pump. This guy was huge—and alive. Which was more than I could say for Darryl Corbin. When he’d passed by, I shook my head.
    “Seriously, they need to catch that guy. He’s been a menace to anyone walking across the street for a week. I’ll be glad when his vacation ends and he goes back to wherever he’s from.” I paused, then looked at Ivy. The girl had paled under her sun-kissed cheeks. “Hey, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Ivy turned back toward me, her eyes wide. “Maybe I have.” She held up the map. “Thanks for this.”
    I watched her as she disappeared out the front. I glanced at the clock. The shop hadn’t been open for a full hour yet. Ivy was from the same town as the dead guy. Maybe she knew him. Kathi had been busy running through the pageant circuit, but according to her sister, Ivy had been taking care of her father. Greg was interviewing the wrong sister.
    I thought about Ivy’s reaction to the biker. She’d been jumpy, but had there been something more?
    I decided she was one person I needed to get to know better. If I’d been Greg, I would have asked her to sub in on my sports team. I needed to find a way to get her off her game and talking.
    It was time to invite Ivy to lunch—except I didn’t have a phone number to reach her. Nor did I know exactly where she was staying, except it was down the road.
    I got busy with my morning commuters and forgot about Ivy. Everyone who stopped by the shop wanted to talk about the crime scene tape they’d seen on their way in. Did I know about the murder? Who on earth could or would do such a thing? Did I think that the murder would hurt the Summer Festival attendance?
    The last question concerned me, and I didn’t have a good answer. Now, more than any day, I wished I had Mary to ask. She knew all about ways to minimize conflict or bad publicity. But she was busy being a new grandmother. I powered through the questions and tried to put a positive spin on the investigation.
    Or at least as positive as a murder could get.
    The bell rang over the door and Josh Thomas lumbered in wearing his typical black suit with a white dress shirt and black tie. When he and Jackie had been dating, she got him to purchase new shirts so at least the one he wore wasn’t threadbare. When he first opened his shop in South Cove, I thought he took his antique persona too literally. His clothes mirrored his love of the old and still useful.
    “Hey Josh, what can I get for you?” I put on my sales smile, even though I knew he was probably here with his weekly list for the monthly Business-to-Business meeting. Somehow, he thought if he promoted his ideas on a regular basis, I wouldn’t file his lists in the round filing cabinet.
    He was wrong.
    He glanced around the room and the empty shop seemed to encourage and deflate him at the same time. He stood at the counter and looked up at my menu like he’d never seen it before. “I guess I’ll have a large coffee, no cream or sugar.”
    Surprised, I almost asked if the coffeemaker in the shop was broken. But a sale was a sale. “Sure, can I get you something to eat with that?” I went to pour his