Picking up her purse, she went into her office and stashed it in her desk, then she carried her coffee to where Dottie pounded the dough with floured fists. Dottie smiled at her, then glanced into her cup.

  “Coffee?”

  Zion nodded. “Look, Dottie, I need to tell you something.”

  Dottie stopped, staring at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Last night, Dee…”

  “Oh, God, I warned him about that concert.” She grabbed a towel and began scrubbing the dough from her hands. “He’s in the hospital, isn’t he? Concussion? Dehydration?”

  “Dottie.” Zion laid a hand on her arm. “He was arrested.”

  Dottie placed her free hand on her heart. “Arrested?” She leaned close and dropped her voice. “For drug possession?” she asked as if Zion didn’t already know that Dee smoked pot.

  Zion shook her head.

  “For what?” The color faded from Dottie’s face.

  “He’s a suspect in a murder.”

  To Zion’s surprise, Dottie started laughing. “Geez, you scared the bejesus out of me, sugar.” She pushed back the unnaturally red hair from her forehead. “I thought you were serious.”

  Zion didn’t say anything, just stared at her grimly.

  Dottie’s smile faded. “You are serious?”

  Zion nodded.

  “Who?”

  “Merilee Whitmire.”

  Dottie’s expression grew angry. “I warned him that girl was trouble. I told him to stay away from her.”

  “Well, she’s dead, Dottie.”

  Dottie stopped in mid-tirade. “How?”

  “Sheriff says overdose.”

  “Wait. So how is that murder?”

  “That’s what I said. Tate says that means there’s more to her death than the sheriff is telling us.”

  Dottie nodded, her eyes going distant as she thought, then she gave Zion a bewildered look. “Wait. How do you know all this?”

  “He thought he’d been arrested, so he called me to come bail him out.”

  “He called you?”

  Zion nodded.

  “Before he called me?”

  “I don’t think he wanted you to see him like he was, Dottie. And he thought he needed bail.”

  “Why was Tate there?”

  “I thought he needed bail too and I didn’t know how to get it for him. I asked Tate to come.”

  Dottie nodded. “That was good. That was smart. Tate knows about these things. He was a cop.”

  “I know.”

  “Does Dee have a lawyer?”

  “Public defender, but after things slow down this morning, I’m going to call David and see if he can recommend someone.”

  Dottie leaned on the counter. “I can’t believe this. I warned that boy. So many times, I warned him he was going to get in trouble.”

  Zion gave her a grim smile. Dottie cared about Dee as if he were her own son. Dottie didn’t talk much about her life, but Zion knew from Dee that she’d been married and her husband had died young.

  Before she could answer, the bell over the door rang. She and Dottie looked out. A line of people had entered the coffee shop. Smoothing her hands down her apron, Dottie lifted her chin. “We better get to work,” she said.

  Zion followed her out, snagging a clean apron from beneath the counter, then she started taking orders while Dottie prepared the drinks. A girl with rainbow colored hair handed Zion a dirty ten, leaning close to the cash register.

  “So, is it true?”

  Zion looked up at her, pressing a button to open the cash drawer. “Is what true?”

  “Did one of your baristas kill a girl at Anaconda last night?”

  Zion gave her a glare. “No, it’s not true.” She looked over the crowd. True, morning was always their busiest time, and they’d been busier since Redwood Stock began, but it was even more crowded than usual. She handed the girl her change. “How did you hear something happened anyway?”

  “It was all over the internet. They say Jaguar liked the girl who was killed. She went backstage, then her boyfriend killed her in a jealous rage.”

  Zion glanced over her shoulder at Dottie. Dottie gave her a worried look.

  “That’s just rumor,” she told the girl.

  “Mmhmm,” said the girl, moving to the side to wait for her drink.

  Clearly Dee shouldn’t come in today, but that left Zion short handed and she was already so tired. Glancing into her own coffee cup, she held up a hand to the next customer and filled it again. It was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  Tallah walked in about ten. Zion was so happy to see her, she almost burst into tears. They’d had a steady stream of customers all morning. The baked goods were gone from the shelves and Dottie was frantically trying to bake up a batch of her cinnamon breadsticks. Zion had been forced to brave the temperamental espresso machine herself, but the gadget still hated her and complained whenever she tried to use it.

  Tallah hurried behind the counter and grabbed an apron. “Mom said you were slammed, so I came in early.”

  “You are the best thing I’ve seen all day,” said Zion.

  Washing her hands, Tallah began making the next drink. “Mom is freaking out over what happened.”

  “Why?”

  “She feels like she’s responsible. She gave Dee the backstage passes.”

  “That’s silly. How did you hear about it?”

  “It’s all over the social media sites. The Anaconda manager released a statement, saying the band was cooperating with police, but weren’t involved in anyway with Merilee’s death.”

  Political spin, thought Zion.

  “Mom feels really bad. Merilee used to come into the restaurant all the time.”

  “I know, she told me.”

  Dottie came out of the kitchen. “I got two batches baking and another of cookies ready to go in.” Her face burst into a smile when she saw Tallah. “Hey, sugar, it’s sure good to see you.”

  “Mom said you guys were getting slammed,” Tallah told Dottie, slapping a sleeve on a cup and placing it on the pick-up counter. “Dillon, your caramel macchiato is ready.”

  “Dottie,” said Zion, ringing up a new order. “Do you think you can take over? I think I better call Dee and tell him not to come in.”

  “You got it,” she said, stepping up to the register.

  “While I’m at it, I’m gonna give David a call and see about getting Dee a lawyer.”

  “You take your time. That’s more important right now. I’ve cleared my schedule for the day. I’ll stay to closing if you need me,” said Dottie.

  Zion patted her shoulder, then hurried to her office, shutting the door. She picked up the office phone and dialed Dee’s number. He didn’t pick up. Zion decided not to leave a message, but this worried her. Dee had been almost inconsolable on the ride home this morning.

  She dialed David next. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, this is a nice surprise,” he said brightly.

  “It might not be after you hear what I need to ask you.” She hesitated. She couldn’t believe she was about to ask him for the name of a criminal attorney for her hippie barista. “Did you hear the news from the fairgrounds last night?”

  “Nope. How did Dee like the concert?”

  “He was brought in for questioning by the sheriff this morning, David.”

  That got his attention. “What?”

  Zion told him everything. He listened attentively. That was another thing she liked about David. He was a good listener. After she finished, he blew out air. “Well, they obviously have more evidence than they told you or they wouldn’t be thinking murder charges,” he said.

  “That’s what Tate said.”

  David got quiet for a moment. Zion didn’t know if he was thinking or if he didn’t like her mentioning Tate. She knew how it might look to him that she’d asked Tate to accompany her last night rather than him.

  “I’ve got some names. I’ll call a few people and see who might be willing to represent Dee if it comes to that. Tell him to lay low until I get someone on board. We don’t want him talking to reporters and inadvertently messing up his own case.”

  Zion knew that was good advice. If she could find Dee, that is.

  “Thank you, David. I appreciate this.”

  “I’m happy to help, Zion. I can’t believe Sheriff Wilson really suspects Dee of doing something wrong. Dee’s many things, but he’s not a murderer.”

  “I know that, and you know that, but Sheriff Wilson still has a dead girl on his hands.”

  “Such a shame,” said David. “Merilee was such a pretty girl with so much potential.”

  Zion agreed, but even pretty girls with potential could get mixed up in the wrong thing. A knock sounded on her office door. “I gotta go. We’ve been slammed all day. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Zion?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me immediately if Wilson actually arrests him.”

  “I will.”

  “You wanna grab dinner or something?”

  “I might beg off tonight. I’ve been up since 4:00 and I’m exhausted.”

  “I understand. I’ll call you later, then.”

  “Talk to you soon.” Zion disconnected the call and rose to her feet, going to the door and pulling it open.

  Cheryl Ford stood on the other side, holding a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water. Zion stepped back to let her inside. “I thought you might need someone to bring you lunch,” she said, holding out the sandwich and the water. “I brought something for Dottie and Tallah too. They said for you to take your time. You can all eat in shifts.”

  Zion accepted the sandwich and water, hugging her friend. “Thank you. You’re the best.” She motioned to the chairs. “Come sit down.”

  Cheryl sank into a chair, while Zion assumed her original seat, unwrapping the sandwich. Pulled pork with extra sauce, her favorite. She took a bite, watching Cheryl fidget in the chair.

  “It’s not your fault,” she told her friend around a mouthful.

  Cheryl swiped a hand through her short cropped black hair, her diamond wedding ring twinkling in the overhead lights. “I gave Dee the backstage passes. He invited Merilee and she overdosed. Maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed if I hadn’t put her in that situation.”

  Zion set down the sandwich. “Both Tate and David said there’s more to it than that. They think Sheriff Wilson’s holding back information.”

  Cheryl shook her head. “Dee would never kill someone, Zion.”

  “I know that.”

  “He needs a lawyer.”

  “David’s working on getting him one.”

  Cheryl looked down at her hands. “Dwayne is so mad at me for letting Tallah go to that concert.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Tallah’s two years from being a legal adult. She’s going to be making her own decisions. You have to trust you raised her right and I know you did. She’s a great kid and she has a bright future ahead of her. Stop blaming yourself for this.”

  Cheryl gave her a wane smile. “I just think of Merilee. She came into the barbecue a lot. She was so full of life, so much future ahead of her, and she’s dead, Zion. Just like that. One minute she was alive and now she’s not. I can’t help but think it could happen to anyone.”

  Zion rose and came around the desk, bending to hug her friend. “Tallah is going to be driving you and Dwayne crazy for the rest of your lives. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Cheryl hugged her back. “Go finish your sandwich. I’ve got to get back before the lunch rush begins.”

  Zion released her and watched her walk out the room. It was tragic that someone so young as Merilee had died, but Deimos Hendrix was not the one responsible. Of that she was sure.

  * * *

  The outer door opened and a cacophony of voices filled the coffee shop. Zion looked up seeing a crowd pushing their way inside. She caught video cameras and microphones being shoved into the center of the circle, then spotted Dee’s shaggy head.

  She glanced over at Tallah and Dottie. “Tallah, go get your dad or your uncle, whichever one’s available.” Tallah headed for the back door that led behind the buildings on this side of the street.

  Zion slipped around the counter and waded into the crowd, grabbing Dee’s arm and dragging him forward.

  “Do you have a statement to make?”

  “What were you smoking?”

  “Did you know it would kill her?”

  “Did you wake up and find her dead?”

  “Excuse me!” said Zion, pulling Dee behind the counter and around Dottie who wielded a rolling pin. Dottie stepped into the gap and brandished the rolling pin at the reporters, driving them back behind the counter again.

  Zion dragged Dee into her office and slammed the door. “What were you thinking?”

  “I have to work,” he said. “I can’t leave you in the lurch.”

  He’d showered and shaved. He’d even tried to slick back his hair, but the scuffle with the reporters had mussed it again.

  “I tried to call you. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I turned my phone off. It’s been ringing all day.”

  Zion drew a deep breath for calm. “Where did all those reporters come from?”

  “They were covering Redwood Stock, but I suddenly became more interesting. Dude, I still can’t get my head around this.”

  She patted his arm. Suddenly she could hear Dwayne’s booming voice in the coffee house and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t think there were many reporters brave enough to face down Dwayne Ford’s more than six feet of toned muscle.

  “That’s right. Either order something or take yourselves off,” came Daryl’s voice.

  Zion frowned. Both brothers had come? “Wait here!” she told Dee, then pulled open the door and went out.

  Dwayne and Daryl stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the coffee shop, holding back the scrum of reporters and cameras and lookie-loos. Zion felt a rush of gratitude toward them. Reluctantly, the reporters were making their way to the door, glancing back over their shoulders for a peek at Dee.

  Zion stepped around the counter, stopping beside Dwayne. He frowned down at her.

  “She-et, girl, what the hell is going on?”

  Zion shook her head. “Dee came to work. I tried to stop him earlier, but he’d turned off his phone. I guess they’ve been hounding him all day.”

  Dwayne kept one eye on the reporters as he responded. “He needs to get out of here for now. This is too hot and he doesn’t need to draw attention to himself.”

  “I know. I need to find someone to drive him home.”

  Dwayne slapped his little brother on the shoulder. “Daryl’ll drive him home.”

  Zion leaned around Dwayne to smile at Daryl. “Thank you both for coming. I know you need to get back, but I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Neighbors need to have each other’s backs,” said Daryl.

  The rest of the reporters had left, so Daryl turned to face the counter. “Get me an iced coffee to go, little girl,” he told his niece.

  She rolled her eyes, but she moved to obey. Zion exchanged an amused look with Dwayne.

  “I’ll just get back to work,” Dwayne said and headed for the door.

  Zion waited to make sure the reporters had gone, then she walked around the counter, motioning Daryl to follow her. “You should probably leave out the backdoor.”

  Daryl grabbed his coffee and reached for his wallet.

  “Nope. The coffee’s on me,” Zion told him. “For coming to our rescue.”

  “Thanks,” he said and followed Zion into her office. Dee was pacing before the desk.

  “Hey, Daryl dude,” he said, offering the other man his hand.

  They shook, then Daryl gave him a level look. “You need to lay low, Deimos. At least until this thing’s over.”

  Dee’s expression became crestfallen. “I need to work, dude. I can’t just stay home. I need the money.”

  “I’ll pay you for your regular hours, but Daryl’s right. You can’t come in here until you’re cleared.”

  “I don’t want charity, boss lady,” said Dee.

  “It’s not charity. It’s for all our sakes.”

  Dee looked so upset, Zion felt sorry for him, but he’d gotten himself into this mess. Everyone had warned him to stay away from Merilee. “I guess. I just don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

  “Read a book,” suggested Daryl. “Binge watch something on Netflix.”

  “Whatever you do,” said Zion, pushing him toward the door. “Stay out of trouble.”

  He didn’t answer, but he followed obediently behind Daryl as they made their way to the alley door and left.

  * * *

  By early evening, Zion was so tired, she wasn’t sure how she was going to keep working twelve hour days. She might need to hire someone temporarily to cover Dee’s shift, but she wasn’t sure how she’d pay that person if she also gave Dee his regular wages. Still, she was exhausted, her feet hurt, and her shoulders felt stiff. She’d drank so much coffee, she had the jitters.

  Around 4:00, she’d forced Dottie to go home. The older woman was lagging and Zion had caught her popping painkillers just to make it through. Thankfully, the traffic had finally died down, allowing her and Tallah to spell each other regularly.

  She glanced at her phone. Almost 6:00. She’d decided to close at 6:00 tonight. During the summer, the coffee shop had been staying open until 8:00 to accommodate the tourists, but tonight she and Tallah were beat.

  A handful of concert goers had come in after the matinee show and were sitting around on the couches, chatting and sipping coffees. The baked goods had gone shortly after Dottie left for the day and Zion hadn’t had a chance to whip up anything.

  She grabbed a glass of water and walked to an unoccupied bistro table, sitting down and putting her aching feet up on the chair opposite her. She didn’t remember when she’d been so tired. When she worked in San Francisco, there were nights she and Rebekah stayed out late, dancing, but this was a different tired. Every muscle in her body hurt and she could hardly keep her head up.