A Tiny Bite of Murder Read online

  A Tiny Bite of Murder

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2018 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Catalog of Books

  Chapter One

  Two elderly ladies entered and waited at the hostess station as a monkey wearing a dress came over and held out a tea room menu. Both ladies shrieked, chuckled at each other, then lavished attention onto the friendly chimp. A scene repeated almost daily. Our tea room is different, but few eateries have a past that starts with big game in Africa. Please allow me to explain.

  Many years ago, a young tracker named William Burrow offered tours on the dark continent, selling his services to hunters in search of adventure. Over the years, he witnessed hundreds of wild animals slaughtered for sport, with doubt and remorse creeping into his thoughts. And as an older man, he experienced a change of heart, so William quit animal tracking after rescuing an injured monkey.

  He returned to Sinking Springs, KY with his new primate friend, and purchased an eighteen hundred era grain and feed store. After modernization, he ran it for years with the monkey. The feed store’s reputation grew and the business found success. This achievement was due in part to the stir caused by his chimpanzee partner. Najia thrilled customers with her antics. Often, she intently listened to conversations while raising one eyebrow, to the delight of patrons.

  Time passed, and William and Najia died. The vacated store waited for a new caretaker, abandoned for years. In time, my grandmother Rose Davis came along and purchased the building. However, she converted the once grain and feed store to a tea room. When cleaning out and renovating the place, Grandma discovered a long forgotten box, containing dozens of black and white photographs. Some showed William Burrow in Africa. But to her surprise, most pictures revealed Najia in the feed store, and a few depicted the monkey with its left eyebrow hiked in an inquisitive manner. With first sight of these images, my grandmother conceived a theme for her new shop.

  Grandma Rose chose an off-white wainscoting for the bottom of the walls and a painted the upper half a very light gray. She picked curtains with a feminine floral print for the large store front windows and modern light fixtures for the ceiling. The floors received light stained hard wood flooring on which we installed beautiful display cases and a work station. We placed tables in a random pattern throughout the dining room, then covered each with a fine linen cloth and a small vase holding a few wild flowers in the center. For the final touch, Grandma Rose enlarged the chimp's best photos, along with one of the old grain and feed store exterior, and encased the huge black and white prints in frames with a broad black molding. She hung the art prominently around the new tea room as an homage to the past life of the building.

  The new tea room opened to the public, and ties to William Burrow’s past continued. On viewing the tea room’s photos, a local informed Grandma that one of Najia’s descendants may still be in Kentucky. She researched the matter, expecting little to come from it, but found a chimpanzee up for adoption. After inquiring, she confirmed the chimp was, in fact, a daughter of Najia and my grandmother jumped at the opportunity.

  Remarkably, Sinking Springs allowed the tea room to house a primate, grandfathered in as part of the original feed store. In truth, the town officials understood that back in the day Najia was a local attraction, and they wished to resume the draw of tourists with a new curiosity. The state health board raised a few concerns, and inspectors prevented the monkey from touching foodstuffs or plates holding food. Grandma complied by training our chimp to “host,” escorting customers to and from their tables, entertaining them, and even clearing dirty dishes on occasion. So, now we own a modern tea room that displays multiple enlarged black and white photographs of a famous monkey. Plus we employ that famed chimp’s daughter as our hostess sporting a bright, frilly dress and answering to the name Daisy. Welcome to The Monkey’s Eyebrow Tea Room.

  Today was a special day. A VIP was visiting Sinking Springs to review a new and upcoming restaurant. As a renowned food critic, over four hundred newspapers printed Emery Rumbold’s articles, and we caught wind of a rumor that he might visit The Monkey’s Eyebrow for lunch. Grandma and I worked hard to make the place sparkle in case the scuttlebutt was true. “Grandma, how do you want to display these?”

  “What are you talking about Raine?”

  “The petit fours.”

  Grandma Rose spun and sighed. “It’s so much work we don't make them very often. So we don’t have a standard way or a place to display them. Let me see.” Grandma went into the storeroom to search for a solution.

  A customer came into the tea room and Daisy greeted him. He pulled back when she held out her hand. “Well, I thought this was tea room, not a pet store.”

  I smiled and went over to them. “It is, we’re The Monkey's Eyebrow and serve the best teas and quick bites in town.”

  The stranger scanned the photos on the wall. “You take this monkey thing pretty serious.”

  “Those are Daisy’s mothers pictures. She came from Africa with the man who used to run the old feed and grain store in this building. We converted it to a tea shop, but we kept the monkey motif.”

  He continued to scan the photos of Najia. “That is, um, different, but interesting. So, can I get a black tea with lemon and a cucumber sandwich?”

  I wrote down his order and nudged Daisy. “Sure. Let Daisy seat you while I get your order.”

  Grandma emerged from the storage room. “Raine, here, use this tri-level thingy.”

  I hustled over to her and took the three-tier display. “Thanks. Can you get this order together while I set out the pastry?” I gave the order slip to her, took the stand, and started loading the petit fours on to it. They appeared splendid in their fancy little paper cups with the gold flake sprinkled on top. I popped one into my mouth, strictly as quality control. “Oh Grandma, these are wonderful. You used the good raspberry jam.”

  Grandma fussed as she prepared the stranger’s tea. “Of course, if you have a famous food critic in town, you can’t start skimping. Now stop eating the merchandise, dear!”

  Sitting at his usual table, one of our regulars added, “Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good petit fours is barely enough.” Mr. Twain could spit out adapted, if not mangled, Mark Twain quotes like a spinning tire throws out mud. His real name was Tom Corbin, but he dressed and acted like the famous author. Everybody just calls him Mr. Twain and rolls with it.

  “Well, sorry, these are for the food critic.” I pushed the rack back to a safe place, away from Mr. Twain’s view.

  Grandma served our new customer his black tea with lemon. He asked no one in particular, “Why
are you fussing over that windbag critic?”

  I stared back at him, eyes wide. “Because he might pop in for some tea and a bite to eat. We don’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

  “Well, I was contestant on a food challenge show and his assistant, Holly, was one of the judges. She tore me down for no good reason other than it made for good ratings. Emery Rumbold and Holly Triste are all show, making themselves feel self important no matter how much it hurts others.”

  “So why are you in town at the same time as they are? It sounds like a pretty big coincidence.” I studied him while he replied.

  “I came to try and talk with them. They sit in their ivory tower and avoid contact with people like me.”

  Mr. Twain asked, “My good man, what do you want to discuss with them?”

  “That’s private.” The customer looked down at his tea.

  Daisy threw the strange customer a kiss. Mr. Twain laughed. “It would seem our primate friend is trying to buoy your spirit.”

  The stranger stared at Mr. Twain. “You know you’re not Mark Twain, right?”

  He replied, “I never argue with uninformed people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”

  The stranger chuckled. “I have to give you credit. You got your shtick down.”

  Grandma Rose grabbed Daisy, who was trying to get the stranger’s attention by giving him crumpled up napkins. “You know Raine, Daisy is getting better at understanding us speak and I swear she is trying to reply. Look how she is trying to get this poor fellow’s attention. She is offering him a gift, even if it is just balls of paper.”

  I replied, “I think you are right. Maybe we need to look into sign language. That might be fun to try and teach her.”

  The stranger studied Daisy as she unexpectedly blew him another kiss. He asked, “How are you allowed to have a monkey in a restaurant?”

  Grandma said, “That’s a long story, but please be assured she is not allowed to touch the food. And, trust me, Daisy is cleaner than most people.”

  The stranger laughed. “I actually would like to see Emery Rumbold’s face when he encounters a monkey in a tea shop. I hope he comes by. Bet he has never seen that before.”

  Grandma led Daisy by the hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s have you sit at your station for a bit and calm down.”

  As Grandma sat Daisy on the stool in her own private spot next to the register, and the stranger got his wish. A well dressed man accompanied by a middle aged woman entered The Monkey’s Eyebrow. The woman lugged a stuffed leather bag over one shoulder and carried an expensive brief case. She also wore a harried expression on her face. The man donned a smug visage that clashed with the refinement of his camel’s hair coat.

  He stood just inside the front entrance, waiting for someone to seat him. Daisy rose from her stool and went to greet them, extending her hand. The woman whimpered and the man put his hands to his chest, taking a step back. He exclaimed, “What is this!”

  The stranger laughed at the sight, but I answered, “Daisy is our hostess. She will be happy to seat you.”

  He bellowed. “Do you know who I am?”

  I nodded in response. “Yep.”

  The woman collected herself. “Emery, this is different, yes. But it is quite fascinating, too. You will never have a chance like this again, I’m pretty sure, so let’s try to enjoy it. And look, the monkey is wearing such a pretty dress.”

  The woman was right. Grandma picked one of Daisy’s best dresses to wear today. She wanted everything to look its best, including Daisy.

  “Alright, but I’ll not touch the foul thing.” Emery looked down his nose at Daisy.

  “Daisy, show them to a table.” I pointed to a table by the big front windows, and she showed them the way.

  They took their seats and after a minute or two, the stranger rose and went to the table where Emery and his assistant now sat. He said, “You remember me?”

  Emery snorted. “No. Should I?”

  The stranger frowned. “No, I wasn’t talking to you. But Holly should remember me. She ruined my career.”

  Holly typed furiously on her phone, until she heard her name. She looked up and examined the stranger. “I remember you. You served me a dessert that was much too sweet at that competition.”

  “It was perfect. You just had to show off for the cameras. But that aside, I have something to discuss with you.” The stranger’s face was turning red.

  Daisy reacted to the unusual commotion, wandering over to the confrontation underway at table nine. She studied both men, then she gave Holly a raspberry.

  She laughed. “Seems we have a referee who has called a foul.”

  The stranger fidgeted. “What? I’m trying to talk to you.”

  Emery cut in. “Not here. If you have business with Holly, she will give you her card and you can contact her through proper channels. I don’t think any of us want a public disturbance that involves a monkey.” He glared at Holly.

  She understood, taking out a business card and handing it to the stranger. “Contact me with your matter and I promise to respond.”

  The stranger took her card. He went back to his table, threw down some money, then stormed out of the tea room. Daisy came over to me and held her hands up, so I picked her up. She hated when people were angry, even if it did not involve her. She hugged me tight and kissed my cheek.

  “Well, someone has a pebble in his shoe. But, one should give every day the chance to become the most beautiful of your life.” Through the store front windows, Mr. Twain watched the stranger stomp away. “Seems he needs to find that pebble soon and banish it.”

  Emery said, “I’m sorry for the disturbance. We were just hoping for a nice cup of tea.”

  Daisy made it clear she wanted down, so I set her next to me. “It’s OK, we are glad to have you visit.”

  Daisy gestured at the food critic and Emery asked, “Why is she doing that?”

  I smiled. “Daisy is very social. She likes when people give her things. And she saw Holly give that man a card, so she wants you to give her something now.”

  Emery formed a small smile and said, “Well, Daisy, that’s a pretty name and I have a business card I can give you, would you like that?”

  Daisy jumped up and down a few times. I laughed and said, “That’s a big yes.”

  Emery reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card. “Only a couple left, but you can have this one.” He held it out tentatively and Daisy took the card. She smiled at him, and he responded by sitting straight in his chair and freezing. He stared at Daisy, eyes wide, till she blew him a kiss and sprinted away to stash the present from him with her other things back at the stool.

  Holly said, “You are too much sometimes. She is cute and seeing you be nice to her was refreshing.”

  As Daisy settled on her special stool, Jessica and Mike Tunsburry entered the store, waving at Grandma and me. The Turnburys owned a glass blowing shop in town, but they sell all kinds of trinkets in addition to the ones they make. Jessica is my best friend, and the two of them are regulars in The Monkey’s Eyebrow. Daisy knows them well and loves when they visit the store. She strode over to them and modeled her pretty dress. Mike asked, “Do you know how pretty your dress is?” Daisy vigorously nodded yes. He continued, “It baffles me how she understands so well. It’s actually kind of weird.”

  I chuckled. “She has been trying to respond, so we are thinking of trying to teach her sign language.”

  Jessica laughed. “That would be freaky.”

  Mike asked, “What is Daisy doing now.”

  Jessica snorted “You think she is excited to see you? No. She loves us because we have kids. She is hopping they are coming too so they can play together.” Daisy nodded yes again. “See.”

  Grandma greeted them. “Jessica! Mike! So good to see you. How are you today?”

  Mike answered. “Good. We were wondering if you might need a hand with this overrated guy coming to t
own.”

  Grandma and I pinched our lips and shushed. Raising my hand to shield my face, I pointed in the direction of Emery’s table trying to avoid detection, then mouthed, “They’re right over there.”

  Emery said, “It’s alright, I’ve been called worse. So now I would like to order. I will have the oolong orange blossom tea and the quiche.”

  Holly added, “I’ll have the mint green tea and a turkey avacado BLT croissant sandwich.”

  I wrote as they ordered. “Thank you. Anything else? I would suggest saving just a little room for my Grandma’s petit fours.”

  Emery scanned the menu. “No. We are here for a quick bite. We have a restaurant to review tonight. We don’t want to fill up too much.”

  Holly huffed. “Are you expecting much tonight? This is a pretty small town. I’m not sure why there is buzz surrounding a restaurant in such a remote place.”

  Mr. Twain said, “Madame, Sinking Springs is a favorite destination for tourists and nearby is a state park that draws thousands, as does our annual river festival.”

  Holly shrugged her shoulders. “So? I walk out of my New York city restaurant to find thousands of people on the sidewalks every day.”

  Mr Twain chuckled, “Ah, a city dweller. You know that the best diamonds are not mined from sidewalks.”

  Holly laughed. “Are you practicing for a part at the local performing arts center?”

  Mr. Twain nodded no. “I practice for nothing. I live with purpose, to experience laughter and a good cigar.”

  During the verbal exchange, Grandma served tea to Emery and he took a sip. “Oh my, this is lovely. And your menu was far more interesting than I expected.”

  Grandma blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

  Daisy didn’t like being like being left out and went to join to them. She sidled up to Emery. He gasped. “What do I do?”

  Holly chuckled. “I think she is sweet on you.”

  Jessica tried to help. “Daisy is a friendly girl, some might say a flirt. She likes to get a man’s attention when she can.”

  Emery sat frozen in place. “I don’t want to upset her.”