Murder by Mocha

in her fire—and because Aphrodite didn’t count on your interference, she’ll be knocked unconscious before she can escape, too. The police will find the gun still in her hand.” Olympia smiled. “Death by fire—a fitting fate, don’t you think? A whore on her way to Hades.”

As I continued moving slowly forward, Olympia kept backing up. Now she stood beside a metal shelf holding cellophane-covered buckets of dark mocha syrup.

I heard a moan coming from the other side of that shelf. I risked a peek and saw Aphrodite sprawled on the floor but stirring. Gudrun lay nearby, stripped down to her black brassier and slacks. My breath caught when I spied Nancy, lying right next to them, eyes closed, arms curled.

Oh my God, Nancy! Is she still alive?

I choked down my fear, my rage. “I know something else, Olympia. I know that’s not my barista you’re threatening. Why don’t you let the poor girl go?”

Olympia faked surprise and pushed the girl to her knees. Then she ripped the sack away. Minthe’s puppy dog eyes blinked up at me.

“My mistake,” Olympia said. Before I could react, she pressed the gun against Minthe’s head and pulled the trigger.

The blast was deafening. One second Minthe’s thin, pale face was there—and then it wasn’t. The body flew sideways and struck the plank floor with a hollow thud.

“You crazy bitch!” I screamed.

Then we both heard a crash loud enough to cut through the gunshot still ringing in our eardrums. Shards of shattered skylight rained down. Along with the glass came a figure clinging to a thin black cord

“POLICE! SWAT TEAM! FREEZE! WE’RE ARMED! DROP YOUR WEAPON! GIVE IT UP!

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a real SWAT team—it was Matt, all alone. He’d heard the shot, freaked, and taken a reckless chance. For a moment he hung suspended above the factory floor, yelling that he was the police, the army, SEAL Team Six, and whatever else popped into his head. Then, suddenly, whatever he’d used for a rope snapped under his weight, and Matt plunged straight down.

“POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP! YOU’RE UNDER AR—oooph!”

Matt landed on a stack of Madagascar cacao. The hard landing shut his mouth and eyes. The fall knocked him out!

Olympia was rattled, then raging. She approached my unconscious ex, gun extended.

Oh no you don’t! I rushed her. Reaching up, I yanked a pail of mocha syrup off the shelf, dumping it over her head.

As Olympia knocked the pail away, I grabbed her wrist with both hands. She fought me, eyes closed, blinded by the brown goo. She was strong, but I was determined, and it came down to a battle of wills.

As we struggled over the gun, Aphrodite ran by us, on her way to one of the factory’s windows and a fire escape beyond.

“Help me!” I begged. “Grab the gun, Aphrodite! Do something!”

But she kept going, her only interest saving herself! With a single heave, she lifted the big window and crawled through onto the metal fire escape. Night air whipped her flowing dress as the river’s black water roiled below.

Olympia could see by now—enough to realize her prize prey was escaping. Enraged, she kicked me hard, sending me backward.

“Die! Die! Die!” she howled as she pumped three shots into Aphrodite’s back. The goddess swayed in the wind, then tumbled into the water below.

Olympia whirled to face me. But I was ready with another bucket of Mocha Magic—and this time I swung it like a club. Again and again, I bounced the metal pail off Olympia’s head. The chocolate-covered monster finally dropped without a sound, and I kicked the gun out of her limp hand.

“Matt! Matt!”

I ran to my ex and dropped to my knees beside the pallet of cacao beans. He wasn’t moving, and it didn’t look like he was breathing, either. I brushed aside his shaggy hair, touched his cheek—and his eyes opened!

“I think I hurt myself . . .” He moaned.

“You big, dumb, stupid hero! You could have killed yourself!”

“Oh, man, the dog was worse than the fall.”

“Dog?”

“A very fast German shepherd guarding the construction site next door. I climbed that building to jump to this one. But not before that damn shepherd bit me in the butt.”

Tears stinging my eyes, I hugged him—then I jumped and Matt bolted upright when a controlled explosion blew the steel gate off. Ropes fluttered down from the shattered skylight, too, followed by armed and armored men. Boots hit the plank floor all around us. More men stormed through the blasted gate, weapons raised.

A SWAT team—a real one—had finally arrived.

“What took you so long,” Matt groused.

A tactical officer in black armor emerged from behind the metal shelf, Nancy Kelly in his arms. Pale and shaken, my barista touched her bruised head. But her buoyant inner Nancy returned when she saw me.

“Holy smokin’ rockets, boss. What the heck hit me?”

Forty-Five

Two days later things were back to normal at my coffeehouse—“normal” being a relative term, considering Village life.

“Remember, Punch,” Tuck said from behind our counter, “the part you’re auditioning for today is the most important role in Return to Munchkin Land.”

“But it’s only the chorus, Tuck, just a small part.”

“Punch! What do I always say?”

The lean Latino put down his cup and sighed. “There are no small parts, only—” He suddenly froze, glanced around.

“You can relax,” I assured him from the next stool. “There are no small actors in here today.” (Since we’d opened six hours ago, I’d served a steady stream of hulking, hairy men.) “Exactly,” Tuck said. “And where would the Wicked Witch be without a dependable army of Flying Monkeys?”

“Ha!” Nancy cut in, arriving for her lunchtime shift. “She wouldn’t need them if she had a flying Matteo!”

“More like a plunging Matteo from what I heard,” Esther cracked.

“Matt was very brave,” Nancy said, eyes glazing as she tied on her apron. “He saved my life. I’ll be forever grateful to him.”

Esther stared at Nance a long moment. “Oh no.”

Nancy turned to Tucker. “When is Matteo coming back to the Blend, do you think? Will he be working as a manager again, the way he did the other day? That was a great day! He’s such a good manager!”

“Oh, boss!” Esther sang.

I glanced up from Matt’s revised delivery schedule. “What?”

She leaned down. “Did you hear that?”

“Matt’s flying to Costa Rica next week,” I said. “Let’s hope Ms. Kelly is over her new crush by the time he gets back.”

“I guess we should look on the bright side,” Esther said. “At least she’s over Dante.”

“Nancy’s lucky he’s not pressing charges.”

“Speaking of charges,” Esther said, “did you check out New York One’s In the Papers segment this morning? We’re still the top story across the city.”

I nodded.

Tuck moved toward us. “You know, I can’t decide which headline was my favorite. Chocolate-