Decaffeinated Corpse by Cleo Coyle
Authors: Cleo Coyle
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Mystery And Suspense Fiction, Coffeehouses, Cosi; Clare (Fictitious character), Fashion, Restaurants - Employees
Ads: Link
incident.”
“Why?”
“There are issues.”
“What issues?”
I took another hit of caffeine. “I don’t know yet, but Matt promises he’ll tell me later.”
Mike’s gaze didn’t waver. “Be careful, Clare.”
“Of what?”
“A man who doesn’t want to report a crime is usually a criminal himself.”
I folded my arms. “Ric’s the victim here, not the criminal.”
Mike didn’t try to argue; he simply continued drinking his coffee.
“We’re going into business with this man, you see? He’s the one who made that breakthrough with the decaffeinated plant I mentioned. . . .” I was trying to project confidence, but I could tell I was coming off defensive. “It’s really an amazing thing, you know, for the trade? And Matt’s known Ric for almost his entire life.”
Mike glanced away. “Matt’s not exactly pure as the driven snow.”
“That’s not fair. I mean, okay . . . I wouldn’t call him an innocent lamb, but Matt’s definitely no criminal. And I don’t appreciate the snow crack.” I closed my eyes and held up my hand. “Don’t say it. I already know . . . crack is also a term for cocaine.”
Mike drank more latte. “So what do you think happened?”
“I’m not supposed to discuss it with you.”
“Solve a few homicides and you’re flying solo, huh?”
“I made a deal with Matt. He agreed to take Ric to St. Vincent’s ER now and tell me everything later—”
“—as long as you keep the details from me.”
“What are you, a mind reader?”
“Some people are an open book.”
“Meaning me? Now you sound like my ex-husband.”
“Ouch.”
“Listen,” I leaned on the coffee bar, closing the distance between us. “Since you already know the basics, I don’t see any harm in talking hypothetically.”
“Hypothetical is my middle name.”
“I thought it was Ryan.”
“Aw, Clare . . . you remembered.”
“Have you ever heard of a mugger using a prerecorded message?”
The detective put down his nearly empty latte glass. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
I shook my head.
“I’ve had voices mechanically distorted in extortion cases, but never a street mugger. Not in my experience.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Mike’s lips twitched. “What else do you think?”
“If the mugger didn’t want his or her voice recognized, then Ric might have recognized it, right? Which means—”
“Ric already knows this person.”
“Or . . .” I murmured, “he’s about to know this person.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Ric’s in town for the ICGE—it’s an international trade show for the coffee industry. Later this week he’s announcinghis horticulture breakthrough, and it’s going to shake up a lot of people.”
“What does ‘shake up’ translate to? Will it ruin them?”
“No . . . at least not right away. Ric’s deal is exclusive with the Village Blend, and we’re a premium product. Something like this won’t change the mass market for years. This discovery shouldn’t be a total shock, either.”
“Why not?”
“People have been working on creating a viable decaffeinated plant for a little while now—the interest was negligible at first but the percentage of decaf drinkers has skyrocketed in the last fifty years. It was something like three percent in the sixties, now it’s close to twenty, and—”
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s a very old song, where there’s a market, there’s interest in exploiting it.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Love it or hate it, so goes the capitalist formula for progress.”
“So who’s competing with your friend?”
“Some scientists in Hawaii are doing field tests on a genetically engineered decaffeinated plant. And back in 2004, there were rumors that Brazilian scientists from the Universidade Estadual de Campinas had identified a naturally decaffeinated Ethiopian coffee plant.”
“What happened there? Why wasn’t that a
“Why?”
“There are issues.”
“What issues?”
I took another hit of caffeine. “I don’t know yet, but Matt promises he’ll tell me later.”
Mike’s gaze didn’t waver. “Be careful, Clare.”
“Of what?”
“A man who doesn’t want to report a crime is usually a criminal himself.”
I folded my arms. “Ric’s the victim here, not the criminal.”
Mike didn’t try to argue; he simply continued drinking his coffee.
“We’re going into business with this man, you see? He’s the one who made that breakthrough with the decaffeinated plant I mentioned. . . .” I was trying to project confidence, but I could tell I was coming off defensive. “It’s really an amazing thing, you know, for the trade? And Matt’s known Ric for almost his entire life.”
Mike glanced away. “Matt’s not exactly pure as the driven snow.”
“That’s not fair. I mean, okay . . . I wouldn’t call him an innocent lamb, but Matt’s definitely no criminal. And I don’t appreciate the snow crack.” I closed my eyes and held up my hand. “Don’t say it. I already know . . . crack is also a term for cocaine.”
Mike drank more latte. “So what do you think happened?”
“I’m not supposed to discuss it with you.”
“Solve a few homicides and you’re flying solo, huh?”
“I made a deal with Matt. He agreed to take Ric to St. Vincent’s ER now and tell me everything later—”
“—as long as you keep the details from me.”
“What are you, a mind reader?”
“Some people are an open book.”
“Meaning me? Now you sound like my ex-husband.”
“Ouch.”
“Listen,” I leaned on the coffee bar, closing the distance between us. “Since you already know the basics, I don’t see any harm in talking hypothetically.”
“Hypothetical is my middle name.”
“I thought it was Ryan.”
“Aw, Clare . . . you remembered.”
“Have you ever heard of a mugger using a prerecorded message?”
The detective put down his nearly empty latte glass. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
I shook my head.
“I’ve had voices mechanically distorted in extortion cases, but never a street mugger. Not in my experience.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Mike’s lips twitched. “What else do you think?”
“If the mugger didn’t want his or her voice recognized, then Ric might have recognized it, right? Which means—”
“Ric already knows this person.”
“Or . . .” I murmured, “he’s about to know this person.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Ric’s in town for the ICGE—it’s an international trade show for the coffee industry. Later this week he’s announcinghis horticulture breakthrough, and it’s going to shake up a lot of people.”
“What does ‘shake up’ translate to? Will it ruin them?”
“No . . . at least not right away. Ric’s deal is exclusive with the Village Blend, and we’re a premium product. Something like this won’t change the mass market for years. This discovery shouldn’t be a total shock, either.”
“Why not?”
“People have been working on creating a viable decaffeinated plant for a little while now—the interest was negligible at first but the percentage of decaf drinkers has skyrocketed in the last fifty years. It was something like three percent in the sixties, now it’s close to twenty, and—”
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s a very old song, where there’s a market, there’s interest in exploiting it.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Love it or hate it, so goes the capitalist formula for progress.”
“So who’s competing with your friend?”
“Some scientists in Hawaii are doing field tests on a genetically engineered decaffeinated plant. And back in 2004, there were rumors that Brazilian scientists from the Universidade Estadual de Campinas had identified a naturally decaffeinated Ethiopian coffee plant.”
“What happened there? Why wasn’t that a
Similar Books
