Thrilling Thursday

A seaside town selling the supernatural, a fun-fair ride with a deadly twist, and a realtor-turned-sleuth rediscovering her purpose.

Tabby is settling into Crystal Cove, Oregon, and her new home on a magic-infused houseboat when the summer fair comes to town. She and her newly inherited cat, Sherlock, operate the coffee truck while screams of excitement erupt from nearby rides. Soon the fun screams turn to shrieks of horror when a dead body is discovered on one of the rides, and Tabby may be the only one who can help her detective friends figure out how it got there.

Apparently, Crystal Cove has no shortage of secrets or murders. Will Tabby’s unique insight and gifting help her see through the town’s shroud of illusions? Order now to find out!

Find the eBook, paperback, and large print paperback at Books2Read.com/thrillingthursday.

Excerpt from Chapter One:

When my Aunt Lizzie told me about the magic of Crystal Cove, I’d always thought she meant magic that involved witches, warlocks, and fortune-telling. I’d lived here for almost three months, and okay, Crystal Cove did boast its fair share of witches and fortune-tellers (although I’d yet to meet a warlock), but the real magic, I’d come to believe, was in the sense of belonging this seaside town brought me.

I looked around at the bright twinkling lights on the rides at the summer fair and let out a happy sigh. This fair took the town’s magic to a whole new level.

“Excuse me? How long will that take? Fair’s gonna open soon.”

I blinked and shook my head to bring myself back to the present. I looked from the espresso machine on the coffee truck down to the two carnival employees waiting for their drinks. “Just another sec. That was two double espressos, right?”

A third guy had appeared behind them while I was lost in thought. “Make it three.” He had a stripe of blue hair down one side of his otherwise blond head.

“Need something to keep us awake in this sleepy town,” the impatient guy in the red baseball cap said.

Funny how others could see the same town in completely different ways. But I could grasp his reasoning. These carnies traveled around from big cities to tiny towns, setting up their rides and booths, and in comparison to other bustling cities, Crystal Cove probably didn’t appear to hold much interest to these guys barely into their twenties. I’d grown up in Portland, and the idea of being a nameless face lost in a crowd was what had lost its sheen.

I passed them their coffees and offered a bright smile. “On the house.”

I waved away red baseball cap’s ten-dollar bill. He squinted at me, not immediately pulling the bill away. Even though he wore the same type of distressed jeans and black T-shirt as his friends, his didn’t look as dirty. I could tell by his wary gaze that people didn’t comp these guys often. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to paint Crystal Cove in a better light for all of them. Eventually, he stuffed his money away.

“Thanks!” the guy with the blue striped hair said with exuberance, while the third guy had already turned away, seemingly oblivious to the nicety.

As they left with their espressos, I pulled my own ten-dollar bill out of my purse and fed it into the till. The café owner, Olivia, had been on me about giving away free coffees and bakery items at the café, and I had the sense she’d feel no more generous with her coffee truck. She was a nice lady, but she reminded me again and again that she was running a business.

I probably should have had more understanding, having started up my own business recently. Frank, the local marina owner, had put me in touch with a few owners who wanted to rent out their houseboats. Even though my skill set lay more in selling real estate, I’d spent the last few months learning all about property management and was getting the hang of it. Still, I was a lot less business-minded than the family I’d come from, and what was the big deal if I bought people coffee once in a while?

Except that if I did it as often as I liked, I’d be broke in no time. As two of the carnies headed toward their respective booths in the food section of the fair, and the blue-haired guy angled toward the midway, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a new text from Rachael.

~Sorry! Running late! The renters arrived early, so I’m letting them in and getting them set up. Can you watch my booth until I get there?~

I stared over at the art booth I’d set up in the tiny crafts section of the fair, between the snacks and the midway. It was probably only thirty feet away, but still, I didn’t know quite how I’d manage both the art booth and the coffee truck if either had a sudden influx of customers.

But our deal had been that if Rachael cleaned the houseboats I managed, I would set up her booth. The renters weren’t supposed to arrive until the next morning, but if she didn’t show them around, I’d have to leave to do it, so what choice did I have?

~Sure~ I texted back. ~But hurry if you can.~

I’d barely finished typing when the local businessman who had brought in the fair, Mr. Klaus, called out over a bullhorn, “Crystal Cove Summer Fair is open for business!” He unhooked the large rope that separated the fairgrounds from the parking lot, and a hoard of excited patrons rushed through.

I glanced at Rachael’s art booth. I’d convinced her to book space at the fair in the first place. Word Art, as she called her booth, included canvases with elaborate single words or phrases, decorated to enhance their theme. I’d already paid her to repaint the Lady of Fortune moniker on my late aunt’s houseboat, as well as commissioned a piece with the name of my newly inherited cat, Sherlock. It had ended up being a telling piece—with whiskers on the S, a low-lying belly in the middle of the word, and haphazard blue jewels decorating the letters.

As customers split off between the food section, the craft section, the midway, and the rides, a wash of guilt came over me. I couldn’t leave Rachael’s booth unattended when she’d worked so hard on every single canvas.

I scribbled a “BACK IN 5 MINUTES” sign for the coffee truck, locked up the till, and rushed across to Rachael’s booth, just as the first customers arrived.

“That’s so cool!” a girl of about twelve told her mom. “Can I get my name done?”

The mother turned to me. “How much to paint the name Liana?”

Rachael had just started adding names to her collection of art. The problem was, she wasn’t here to paint originals right now.

“If you could come back in about half an hour, the artist should be here. She can give you prices on original pieces, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

The mother nodded and seemed to make a promise to her daughter as they strode off together.

More customers arrived and liked what Rachael already had on display. Many were even interested in purchasing, but they all decided they didn’t want to carry the canvases around with them, and they’d come back at the end of the night.

The coffee shop had formed a lineup by this time, people glancing around for the barista. I was surprised at how busy all of the food vendors were already. It was seven o’clock on a Thursday, the first night of the fair. I would have expected most patrons to have just had dinner and raced toward the rides.

I’d had Rachael’s artwork prominently displayed on the table at the front of her booth, but I started moving it to behind the table so I could race over and catch up on coffee orders. I was just scrawling the same kind of “BACK IN 5 MINUTES” sign for Rachael’s booth when Mr. Klaus interrupted me.

“What’s with no one manning the coffee truck? I did Olivia a favor by saving a spot for her, and now you’re not even there?” Mr. Klaus was a wiry guy with angular features that made him look perpetually angry. Or maybe he just was perpetually angry.

“I’m headed right back there now!” I told him, racing out from behind Rachael’s booth.

“People are complaining. And now who’s going to watch this art booth?” He shook his head. “And here I thought Miss Adams was serious when she said she’d be a responsible vendor.”

Everyone in town had fought for booth space when Mr. Klaus posted a note in the local paper that he was limiting local vendors this year. Apparently, he’d had to allow the carnival to bring in several of their own vendors in order to book them at the last minute. The fairgrounds really were packed from one end to another.

Rachael had been charming when she went into his mini golf establishment to apply for a spot in person. I suggested she make up a piece of word art just for him. She’d found out his first name and had made up a manly decorative piece with “Bryan Klaus” at the center of the canvas. A week later, she’d received an email that he had reserved a small booth space for her art, as long as there was no woo-woo magic involved, and he’d take forty percent of her profits, which I thought was steep, but she had agreed.

Of course forty percent of nothing was nothing, and Mr. Klaus knew that. He had allowed a local candle crafter a booth, as well as a honey supplier and a local clown who made balloon animals, but that was pretty much it for locals, so both Rachael and Olivia knew how fortunate they had been to get their own space at the fair.

I opened my mouth to try and come up with an excuse, but before I could, I saw Rachael racing through the entry to the fairgrounds, her black minidress showing off her black-and-white striped tights.

“She’s here now!” I practically yelled as I made my way past Mr. Klaus and toward the line of patrons at the coffee truck. I waved Rachael toward her art booth.

Thankfully, Mr. Klaus was concerned enough about making a profit that he didn’t stop me, but he looked Rachael up and down and muttered, “What is she wearing?” as I left.

For a man who lived in a town that made a living from passing-through tourists who were here for the supernatural, Bryan Klaus was surprisingly opposed to anything otherworldly. Rachael knew it, too, and had purposely played down her magic aspirations and played up her artistic ability when she approached him for booth space. I was certain she had intended to change out of her black-and-white striped tights before arriving at her booth tonight, but she must not have had time.

I tried not to feel too bad about this as I concentrated on catching up on the line of coffee customers. I’d been working at the café for three months and was getting better at pouring foamy milk with one hand and sprinkling decorative flavors on top with the other. As I finally finished with the last order, my phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was my mom. She called to check in when my dad wasn’t around. He hadn’t forgiven me for ditching my life in Portland and making a sudden move to Crystal Cove, but I thought my mom was secretly happy that I’d chosen to take care of her sister’s boat, rather than selling it. I clicked my phone onto speakerphone as I cleaned up from the rush.

“Hi, honey. Everything okay with you?” It was how she started every conversation. With the sudden and unexpected suicide of her sister, she could never relax until I assured her I was fine.

“I’m good, Mom. We have a summer fair going on in Crystal Cove, and Olivia has me running the coffee truck.” I’d learned that if I gave honest specifics, she calmed down a lot faster than if I kept it vague.

“Oooh, that sounds like fun. Listen, honey, would you call and check in with Pepper when you have a chance? She’s not returning my calls and I’m worried.”

My sister, Pepper, was in her second year of medical school. I had no doubt she was simply swamped with coursework, and with Mom’s sensitivity, she may have been waiting less than a day to hear back from her youngest daughter.

Regardless, I knew what I had to say. “For sure, Mom. I’ll call her as soon as I have a chance, but I’m sure she’s just busy with school.” I turned to clean the rear counter and brought my phone with me.

“And you’re still planning a trip here next month for your high school reunion, right?”

This topic was trickier. My ten-year high school reunion was coming up in Portland, and whenever Mom pushed me for a date of when I might come home for a visit, I’d offered this as a possible suggestion. But the closer my reunion loomed, the more I didn’t want to go. My high school friends had always been the type who thrived on one-upping one another. I couldn’t even imagine what Molly Tinsdale would say about my big accomplishment of becoming a barista in a small seaside town. Moving to Crystal Cove had given me a new outlook on what good friendships could feel like. But besides that, I didn’t look forward to staying in my parents’ house when my father wasn’t even speaking to me.

“The houseboat rental market is starting to heat up, Mom. I won’t know until closer to time.” I closed my eyes through my mom’s sigh. I knew she was lonely, with all three of her kids now out of reach and my dad, the senator, working eighty hours a week. I couldn’t solve all of her problems, though. I had barely started to get a handle on mine.

“Well, let me know as soon as you know,” she said, as though admitting defeat. “I think you’d have fun at your reunion.” She’d barely finished talking when a throat cleared behind me.

“Oh, listen, Mom, I have to run, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

After saying goodbye and hanging up, I stared down at my phone for several seconds, knowing I should call Pepper right away so I didn’t forget. But then another cleared throat reminded me why I couldn’t.

As I turned, trying to reset my mind from my phone call to my job, my eyes widened. I knew my next customer.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a wink.

Detective Jay Jameson was a new friend in town. He had helped clear my name in a murder investigation when I first arrived in Crystal Cove and I appreciated him for it. He was also probably the best-looking man I’d ever set eyes on in real life, but I was doing my best to play it cool and not let on that I thought so. I’d decided soon after arriving that while I tried to get my life in order, I had to put all thoughts of dating anyone, even someone this attractive, out of my mind.

“High school reunion, huh? I love going to those things, even if they’re not mine.” Jay was around thirty, a couple of years older than me, so I imagined his own high school reunion had come and gone. “It’s a rush to get people together ten years later, look at photos, and see how everyone has changed.”

My cheeks warmed, as though he’d be able to see every ounce of my insecurity about it. I waved a casual hand. “I probably can’t even go. My mom just wants me to visit and was hoping that weekend might work.”

He must have heard the unease in my voice because he looked over my side menu board and changed the subject. “I heard you might be manning the coffee truck tonight. What do you recommend?”

So far, I hadn’t gotten a clear handle of how Jay preferred his coffee—strong and bitter or sweet and decorative. Every time he came to the café, he made me choose what to make him, and all he ever said in response was, “It’s pretty good.”

I sighed. “Let me guess. You’re not even going to give me a hint at your favorite so far?”

He smirked, highlighting one of his dimples.

I’d been learning new coffee recipes over the past three months. Part of the charm of The Heirloom Café, where I usually worked in the evenings, was that we always offered unique specials. When Olivia hired me, she told me she’d be counting on me to come up with some original coffee recipes, so I’d been working hard at it.

“Fine. Okay. I have just the thing.” I didn’t know if that was true, but I hoped my forced confidence might rub off on him. For the summer fair, I’d come up with two coffee truck specials. One was a brown sugar Irish coffee, and the other was a coconutty iced latte. I whipped up the brown sugar Irish coffee for him, and after adding the Irish whiskey-flavored heavy whipped cream I’d blended earlier, I sprinkled on some sweet coconut flakes. It was a combination of the two specials. I liked making him something unique and not giving him the same recipe I served everyone else.

I held out the drink, and he passed me a twenty. We’d had plenty of arguments about him overpaying. I always wanted to treat, but he’d finally worn me down and made me take his money. I took it now and made his change, but he dropped all of it into my tip jar, more than paying for the three carnies I’d treated earlier.

I rolled my eyes, mostly to cover up any blush to my cheeks. “Twenty dollars for a coffee? That seems worth it,” I said sarcastically.

He shrugged. “It is. Now when can I take you on the Ferris wheel?”

“I’m more interested in the bumper cars,” I told him, “or that wavy ride that goes in circles really fast.”

“We can try those, too. When do you get a break?”

I nibbled my lip and glanced in Rachael’s direction. That was when I saw my cat, Sherlock, at her feet. How had he gotten here? Had she brought him from my boat?

She was busy painting on a canvas for a couple at her booth. Rachael had a terrible crush on Detective Jameson. He knew it and had hinted to me that she was too young for him. Which she was. But she was my friend and I still couldn’t fathom walking around the fair and going on rides with Jay when it would definitely make her jealous.

At the same time, I was trying to make new friends in this town, not snub them.

“Olivia might be by later,” I hedged. She had promised to come and give me a break after she closed the café for the night. “But if it’s busy, the truck might take two of us.”

Jay nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a sip of his coffee. Tilted his head. Raised his eyebrows. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

Not the exclamation I was hoping for, but at least he didn’t hate it. I watched the nice fit of his jeans as he walked away, unable to help myself, and didn’t pull my eyes away until another customer walked into my vision.