One Cuppa Brew: Book 1 in The Thyme for Tea Series by J. Louise Powell Page B

the ministry she had worked as a prison chaplain for a few years. By the time she left, she wondered why scientists didn’t invent something to read the eyes instead of using modern lie detectors. She knew victims of abuse could sometimes have eyes that held guilt, but generally the eyes of murderers held something else. She could never name it, but the emptiness was there, and it was what she had just faced looking at Alice. She shook her head slightly. She must have imagined it. Alice was her age, a retiree enjoying tennis during the day, who had recently begun dating some stranger that she hadn’t introduced to the others. She was in the early stages of love—it was cute and fun to watch. Pastor must have imagined the look.
    She brought the trio their order and asked if anyone was planning to go to the movies that weekend. Joe asked if she wanted to join them, but she shrugged it off, saying she wasn’t sure how long her son was staying. Pastor could tell Alice was trying to catch her gaze again, but she kept her head down and visibly relaxed when the Hallelujahs began, signaling another customer. She excused herself and got up to meet the new arrivals.
    Her anxiety returned as she saw who had entered. These were not the type of people to order coffee and browse magazines. No, these were clearly more the type she anticipated working security at a club in downtown Pensacola or Mobile, maybe even New Orleans. They looked rough. Heaven help me , she thought, and God, I really mean it , she added.
    The shopkeeper took their order, surprised that they made one, and busied herself making the hot drinks, wondering why they were really there. One was a coffee, the other ordered a cup of her favorite tea. While it was her favorite, it was a rare choice for a customer. She remembered when Andy brought it back from San Francisco, telling her it was a tea to make everything better. She sighed. She could use some of that now, so she decided to brew a full pot. She glanced at the tea tins where the cards were stored, now wishing she had sent them with Jason to the police station. She watched sadly, as Joe and Pam got up to leave. Alice insisted on staying, telling her friends she wanted to look at a book. Pastor couldn’t think. To say something to Joe and Pam might give away more than Andy was ready to have others know. Then again, maybe she was imagining the hostility in the room, it was just Alice, and a couple of thugs. As she glanced at her order sheet, she had a quick idea. She scribbled out a note to Joe, and took it to him as he was getting ready to leave. Alice looked like she was going to take it until Pastor said it was William’s bill and she hoped Joe would give it to him, since she wasn’t sure she wanted a potential murderer seen in her store. Joe nodded, putting the folded slip in his pocket and mumbled something about not believing in friends. She tried to make eye contact with him, but the moment was gone. He took Pam’s arm and they walked out together.
    Alice rose, slowly, watching as Pastor walked back around behind the counter. “You don’t need to go back there, Iris. The boys will just come get you.”
    The shopkeeper grimaced; she had forgotten Alice always called her Iris. She should have known there was something off about her. As she was about to turn, a thought came to mind. “But I haven’t served them their drinks yet.”
    Alice shook her head, “They don’t need their drinks. You, freakishly tall one, go lock the door. Shorty, bring her over here.”
    The shorter one surprised both Iris and Alice, “I could really use a cup of that tea, ma’am. No sense in wasting fine tea.”
    Pastor blinked. It was a familiar line. She then glanced at Alice for permission. Alice nodded, “Whatever, just hurry up and get over here. We need to get on with this.”
    Pastor made her way behind the counter and decided to make a tray. Her plan of dousing both the goons with hot drinks was now put on hold by