Live and Let Grind (A Coffee Lover’s Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Setting – Florida
Crooked Lane Books (October 11, 2022)
Hardcover : 320 pages
Synopsis
Devil’s Beach is percolating with a hot murder case, and reporter-turned-barista Lana Lewis could be the next to get beaned in Tara Lush’s third Coffee Lover’s mystery, perfect for fans of Cleo Coyle and Lucy Burdette.
Laid-off journalist Lana Lewis is thriving as the proprietor of Perkatory, a coffee shop on quirky Devil’s Beach island, Florida. She’s juggling a relationship with police chief Noah Garcia, enjoying the company of her best friend, Erica, and relishing the companionship of her golden Shih Tzu, Stanley. Only problem is her neighbor, Gus, who incessantly uses his leaf blower, disturbing everyone in the neighborhood. Lana has learned to tune it out, but Erica’s rage boils over and she confronts Gus.
Then Gus is found dead, killed when his leaf blower explodes. Erica immediately becomes suspect number one. But there are plenty of other candidates as well: Gus’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Honey Bailey, who thinks she’ll be written out of his will; Mickey Dotson and Doug Beck, who were scalded financially after purchasing a pirate-themed tourist cruise business from Gus; and plenty of angry neighbors who’ve had run-ins with him.
As the clock ticks down will Lana get someone to spill the beans on the killer so she can clear her friend’s name, or will Erica go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit?
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Guest Post
When was the last time you roller skated?
For me, it’s been decades. Many, many decades.
But for hundreds of people on Instagram and TikTok, roller skating is a THING. It’s an art form. A path to stardom. In May of 2020, Buzzfeed wrote, “If you’ve been stuck in quarantine, watching beautiful people blissfully roller-skate in some gorgeous, sun-drenched place is bound to pique your interest.”
My interest was definitely piqued. I was researching my third mystery, LIVE AND LET GRIND, and I became fascinated with these skating videos. Beautiful people shimmied and danced and boogied on old school skates.
You know the kind. They have four chunky wheels and a heavy boot. Sometimes the wheels are colorful, and the boots sometimes sparkle. The kind we used to use in the 70s and 80s at roller rinks heavy with black light and disco balls.
I discovered this niche hobby during the height of the pandemic. In 2020, not many things were open. And I was at home writing, thinking about my next book, dreaming of going somewhere, anywhere.
When I found these roller-skating videos of people zooming down the Santa Monica pier or by the beach in Miami, it jogged my imagination. Some of the videos were quite popular, with 10 million hits. People were becoming social media stars from roller-skating!
Of course, many of the roller-skating folks were incredibly beautiful. They wore throwback outfits to the 1980s, complete with feathered hair like Farrah Fawcett. This gave me the inspiration for a character in LIVE AND LET GRIND.
When I plot a book, I like to first determine the victim, then figure out who killed that person and why. After that, I develop my suspects.
But with LIVE AND LET GRIND, I had an idea for a different character first. I wanted a gorgeous, roller-skating Instagram star to be a suspect, because it seemed like a wacky thing that would only happen in Florida. Can’t you picture reading about a twenty-something influencer in Florida as the suspect in the death of her older husband?
I decided to go all-in on this character. She’s blonde, with feathered hair, neon clothing, and leg warmers. Sweatshirts that effortlessly fall off one shoulder, and sweatbands that look more like Olivia Newton-John than Richard Simmons. Imagine 1980s Fort Lauderdale come to life, and you have my character Honey Bailey.
In one scene, my heroine Lana Lewis decides to find out more about Honey, and runs into her along the waterfront. Here’s an excerpt of their first encounter — Lana and her shih tzu, Stanley, are out for a walk and see Honey skating.
# # #
My attention was immediately diverted to Honey, who commanded center stage in the middle of the pavement circle.
She slowly spun a few times, then came to a stop. “Who has a portable speaker?” Her voice was velvety and rich, and combined with her pretty, tanned face and long legs, it was no wonder that Gus had fallen hard for her. Most men, and many women, would too.
But her question struck me as weird. Who carried portable speakers with them?
“We do!” The two girls who’d passed me by squealed. “What do you want us to play?”
Maybe not that weird. Maybe I was old and out of touch with new technology.
“Pick a disco tune. Anything you want.” Honey said, gathering her long hair into a messy bun with a pink scrunchie.
The girls, who had been born decades after the disco era, conferred and got busy. One hunched over a phone while the other took out a small, blue wireless speaker. About thirty seconds later, the funky strains of the seventies tune “Boogie Oogie Oogie” began.
Honey shimmied her hips, skated backward, and blew the girls a kiss. Then she literally boogied on wheels, and my jaw dropped. Even Stanley seemed transfixed by the dancing, undulating Honey Bailey. She wore old-school skates with white boots, the kind with four wheels. Those were silver and sparkly.
Her outfit consisted of hot-pink Lycra bike shorts, a matching bikini top, and a silver fanny pack around her waist. Light pink sunglasses topped the outfit off.
She was possibly the only person on the planet to make a fanny pack look cool, and for that alone, I was impressed.
This was Gus’s wife?
She skated in a circle, shimmying backward, doing little twisty motions with one foot in the air. She shook her hips. Snapped her fingers. Spun in circles. Swayed to the beat. Honey appeared impossibly hip, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit envious.
I’d never seen anyone so graceful on roller skates, and the crowd obviously loved it. Most were taking photos or videos, while a few hooted, hollered, and clapped.
She ended her disco routine when the song did, by doing a lunge move and trailing her fingers along the ground. Everyone cheered.
“What talent,” exclaimed an elderly woman sitting at a nearby bench.
Honey did a final spin and blew kisses. “Thank you, every- one. You make me feel so good. Something terrible happened yesterday, and having your support means so much. I love you all, and remember, if you’re visiting, or if you’re a local and want to take lessons, hit me up on my Instagram page.”
She gave the name, involving the word skate and the number eight, and glided away to applause.
I remained speechless. As a third-generation Floridian, I was used to weird stuff in the Sunshine State. As a journalist in Miami, I’d covered all manner and sorts of oddities. People high on bath salts who attacked others at random. Serial killers. Gators in parking lots at gentlemen’s clubs. Heck, even here on Devil’s Beach we had the wild monkeys with herpes.
But this was among the top five strangest things I’d ever seen. A widow who put on a public roller-skating show a day after her husband was murdered by an exploding leaf blower?
About the Author
Tara Lush is a Rita Award finalist, an Amtrak writing fellow, and a George C. Polk Award winning journalist. For the past decade, she’s been a reporter with the Associated Press, covering crime, alligators, natural disasters, and politics. She also writes contemporary romance set in tropical locations. A fan of vintage pulp-fiction book covers, Sinatra-era jazz, and 1980s fashion, she lives with her husband and two dogs on the Gulf coast.
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Giveaway
Haven’t skated in many years!