Read Dead on the Vine: (Violet Vineyard Murder Mysteries #1 (A Cozy Mystery)) for Free Online

“Coffee?”
    “Love it,” he said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.
    “Think she’s involved?” Ben asked in a falsely off-hand manner while I spooned coffee into a filter.
    I thought about that for a second. Laurel was a rotten human being, but could she have killed Kevin? And what would be the motive? If she had divorced him she could have forced him to sell the property and been a very wealthy woman. Of course, she’d be even wealthier if he was dead. But beating him to death? No, Laurel would be a poisoner. A sneak killer.
    “I don’t know,” I told him, leaving out my speculations.
    “Don’t think much of her do you?” He asked, but didn’t give me time to reply. “Any fighting between the two?”
    “Of course.” I put the filter in a 1920’s art deco style coffee maker that I had picked up at a flea market. It’s a chrome globe with a red handled spigot that’s as beautiful to look at as it is functional. “All married couples fight.”
    “Anything out of the ordinary? Any violence?”
    “Not that I know of.” I took two cups down from the cabinet over the sink. They were purple, of course. I set them on the granite countertop, then cocked one hip against the counter, facing Ben. The water began to bubble and spit in the pot. “Remember, they were starting a vineyard. That isn’t cheap or easy.”
    “Has it gotten worse lately?” Ben asked, fiddling with a purple bordered note pad I kept on the table.
    I shrugged. “Can’t say. Do you think she did it?” I sure wouldn’t be surprised. Especially after the psychotic conversation I had just had with her.
    Ben blew out a long breath and slumped into the chair with a shrug. “Husband or wife’s always the best bet. Whoever clubbed him meant it to be permanent. He took a hell of a beating.”
    I shivered involuntarily.
    “Mind if I smoke?” he asked, already reaching into his coat pocket.
    “I’ll join you,” I said and took my pack off the table. We both lit up. Ben was smoking Pall Malls, unfiltered. I guessed he wasn’t too worried about tar or nicotine. Not that I was one to make judgments, especially with a cigarette between my lips.
    “Do you know what they used?”
    “Not yet,” Ben said, leaning back and loosening his tie. My kitchen chair creaked a warning. “Notice anyone hanging around that shouldn’t be? Not just strangers, maybe somebody coming to see Laurel when Kevin isn’t around, or vice versa?”
    “No,” I answered. I put his cup under the spigot and opened the tap. “Cream or sugar?”
    “Black’s fine.”
    I set his cup on a coaster, filled mine and joined him at the table.
    “How’s Jessica doing?” Ben asked, changing the subject.
    “Jessica is fine. Her choice in men sucks.”
    “She’s still seeing Stanley, I hear.”
    I smiled bitterly. “I guess you read the report I filed last night.” Ben nodded. “He’s nothing but trouble,” I said.
    “It’s a shame they won’t let us make their decisions for them,” Ben agreed with an ironic chuckle. “My youngest has decided he’s gay. Told me last week. I didn’t know what to say. He asked if I still loved him. Of course I do. But I don’t know how to deal with it, that’s for sure.”
    “Love him, everything else he has to work out on his own.”
    “Yeah,” Ben said, staring into his coffee. “I take a wait and see attitude about more and more things the older I get.”
    Just then there was a tapping at the door. It opened before I had a chance to answer. It was the bristly haired young detective.
    “I’m going to take a look around the cellar, Ben,” he said without looking at me.
    “Okay. Find anything out there?”
    “Murder weapon, maybe,” the detective replied tersely. “Rusted-up shovel under that willow tree. Blood on it. Looks fresh. Barnes is bagging it for the lab.” The willow he referred to was one with special memories for me. Winter Harlan had helped me plant it just weeks before her death. It sat