Read Death by Coffee for Free Online

it.
    I shook my head and picked up the mug. I studied it a moment, turning it slowly over in my hands. Finally I set it down, held it tight with my left hand, and then struck it right above the handle with the ball-peen hammer. The ceramic cracked, but didn’t break. I studied it again, checking it over to make sure I hadn’t damaged it too much, before striking it in the exact same spot.
    A little sliver chipped off and fell onto the counter. I picked it up, tossed it into the trash, and then carried the mug over to the sink. I gave it a good scrubbing and then filled it with water to make sure there were no leaks. Once certain, I emptied it out and set it aside to dry. I’d take it with me to work in the morning.
    From there I went into the laundry room to check on the mess I was positive Misfit had left for me. Sure enough, there was a puddle next to the empty laundry basket. Before long, I was going to have to line the room with pee pads, like I’d had to do at my last place. I think the cat didn’t like the feeling of litter between his toes, so he simply chose to avoid it altogether.
    I cleaned up his mess, brought him into the room, and dropped him into the little box, which earned me an indignant snort before he bound away, spraying litter all over the room. I groaned and went in search of my broom, but couldn’t find it. I gave up and went to my bedroom, instead.
    Boxes sat along the wall. The top ones were open. My clothes were folded inside by type: jeans in one box, sweaters in another. I looked from the boxes to the closet and decided that after the day I’d had, I deserved a day off from unpacking.
    If only I’d waited to break it off with Robert until after I’d moved, he could have helped me unpack. Then I could have kicked his lying ass to the curb. It would have made this mess a whole hell of a lot easier to deal with.
    Of course, that would have meant staying with him that much longer. Two years were enough. The guy couldn’t keep his hands—or lips—to himself back home. I could only imagine what he would do in a new town with a fresh batch of women to hit on.
    I turned away from the boxes and plopped down on my bed. Thinking of Robert made me think of home, of my little apartment that had cost more than this entire house. People were always rushing from place to place there, too busy to pay much attention to anything other than themselves. It was always hectic, always tiring, and yet nobody had died on me there.
    I fell back onto my bed and closed my eyes. I really needed a shower after my day at work, but I wasn’t so sure I had the energy for it. I was tired. More than that, I was completely exhausted, worked to the bone, on my last leg.
    Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but right then, it sure felt like it.
    Misfit hopped up next to me and curled up in the crook of my arm. I thought about pushing him away and finishing up a few chores around the house, but you know what? I was done. Sleep would do me some good.
    I cuddled up close to the fluffball, careful not to put an arm over his snoozing body lest he turn my arm into a scratching post, and let myself drift off to sleep.

4
    A scream tore through Death by Coffee. I dropped the cup of coffee I’d just been making and very nearly leapt out of my skin. Had someone else been struck dead by a coffee I’d just made and served? Was there a body tucked beneath a table, stashed there by the peanut murderer?
    I spun, unsure what disaster I’d encounter, to find Rita Jablonski standing at the counter, hand over her heart.
    “Your mug!” she wailed. “It’s ruined!”
    I sagged against the wall, breathing hard. That woman was going to give me a heart attack someday, I was sure of it.
    “It’s fine,” I managed. “I did it on purpose.”
    Her eyes widened and she staggered back a step. “You broke the mug I gave you on purpose ?” Her lower lip trembled. She was acting like I’d gone and slaughtered her family. “Why?” I swear to