Jasmine and Jealousy

It's a busy end of summer for Lacey Pinkerton and so much is happening Lacey can hardly keep up. Ryder returns but his arrival does not go as expected and Lacey finds herself smack in the center of a Lola driven bout of drama. On top of that there's a new detective in town. While Lacey's happy that Briggs will have more free time (especially if it's spent with her) she's not too sure about Detective Fairchild. And worse, it seems Detective Fairchild is not too sure about Lacey.

A taco truck arrives in town. The popular Taco Brothers run a smooth operation but the relationship between the siblings is anything but smooth. When one of the brothers winds up dead, Lacey is anxious to help investigate. But the new detective doesn't want her around. Of course that doesn't stop her from finding out who killed the Taco Brother. And in the midst of such a whirlwind week, Lacey finally gets a big break on the Hawksworth murder.

Will Lacey finally put together the pieces to solve the hundred-year-old murder mystery?

Summer was pushing its last breaths of sultry air across the town. The pleasant morning warmth would soon roll into a late August blaze that would turn the sidewalks into white lava and cause the trees lining Harbor Lane to wilt from fatigue. On a positive note, the dense air carried an extra delectable dose of whatever Elsie had baking in her ovens. My expert nose told me it was a batch of her citrus scones, flaky little jewels that were as buttery as they were tangy. And the thick orange glaze she poured over them was, both literally and metaphorically, the icing on top.

Kingston did a little tap dance next to me as he waited impatiently for me to unlock the door to the shop. He was anxious to get off the hot cement and onto his comfy perch. I couldn't blame him. As much as I loved summer, the end of August always brought with it the deep cravings for a crisp autumn breeze, fiery tree foliage and mugs of spicy cider. One could only consume so much cold lemonade and sandwich so many chocolate bars and marshmallows between graham crackers before one longed for a change of season. (On second thought, I've never had my fill of the latter.)

The night before had been dry and hot, at least for a coastal evening, and the shop felt warm and stuffy. The heavy perfume from the jasmine I'd been potting the day before still lingered in a fragrant cloud. Before I could head to the office to put away my things the front door opened. The pale orange scone on Elsie's napkin was scented enough to push past the overwhelming scent of jasmine.

She stopped and twitched her nose. "Wow, is that jasmine?"

"It sure is. I guess I'll open some windows."

"It smells strong to me, so I can only imagine what your persnickety snout thinks of it."

"I'll overlook that you called my nose persnickety because you brought me a citrus scone." I pointed to the napkin. "That is for me, I hope."

"Well, I didn't bring it for the crow." Elsie handed me the napkin.

The scone was still warm. I ran my finger through the wet glaze and pushed it between my lips for a taste. "So good. But I'll have to wait for the jasmine to clear out of the air, or this flaky little yummy will taste like perfume."

"What are you going to do now that Ryder has extended his trip and your one good assistant, Amelia, decided to move to New York?" Elsie reached up to push a strand of silvery gray hair into the clips holding her hair in a bun. Each day there was a little less toffee color and a little more gray. Elsie had already decided that the last thing she needed to do was spend time in a salon listening to some stylist's life story while she had smelly dye slathered into her hair. I told her she'd made the right decision. Her natural gray locks were beautiful.

Her reminder about my plight triggered a long sigh. "I'm not sure what to do." I walked to the front window and slid it open. "At least I managed to get through most of the wedding season without a nervous breakdown."

Elsie tilted her head toward the windows. "Speaking of nervous breakdown, has our mutual friend calmed down about the whole thing?"

Elsie's next reminder about Lola's plight caused another sigh. (It seemed I was filled with disappointed breath this morning.) "I think I've talked her off the ledge," I said, not feeling entirely convinced. My shoulders sank. "I'm afraid there just isn't much I can say to ease her mind or her heart. She's convinced Ryder is done with her."