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  Everyone cheered and applauded when the first two of the trio stepped in, with pats on Henry’s back, polite smiles bordering on smirks at Abby’s flowing hippie-dippy long gown with turquoise silver earrings, a silver choker, a black beaded cardigan sweater, and a pull-string purse.

  But as soon as the men caught sight of Brooke, the wolf whistles were deafening.

  “I knew it,” she said to Larry, who had stepped over quickly to throw her a bear hug.

  “Just enjoy it, Brooksy. You look gorgeous.”

  “I look like a hooker,” she snapped.

  Ignoring her comment, Larry propelled Henry, Abby, and her over to a side booth where Tony was already waiting for them.

  Brooke avoided facing the handsome detective. He must think I’m such a tramp. Why did she let those She-devils convince her to wear this outfit? One look at her mascara in the bar mirror had made her cringe.

  Once they all sat down around Tony, her eyes roamed the room. Across the way, Chief Bruner was loudly pontificating, a beer mug seemingly glued into his hand. Other policemen were howling with laughter at an obviously raunchy joke. Definitely not the #MeToo kind.

  While Henry, Abby, and Larry were jabbering away at the table, she tried to avoid looking over at Tony. But after a bit, she couldn’t help it. As the chief stepped over to the microphone at the front of the room and took his “Quiet, everyone” stance, she ventured a peek at Tony.

  He was openly staring at her. Usually quite the gentleman, he took his sweet time doing a slow, steady onceover down to her chest for a couple of seconds before inching back to her face. And when he caught her eyes taking him in, he didn’t look apologetic. Not even remotely. He just silently mouthed one word. “Wow.”

  Drawing a more than shaky breath, she got up to go to the ladies’ room to recover. At the sink’s counter, she took out her phone to see if there were any texts from Grandma Martha or Haley. Something to normalize her. Anything to remind herself she wasn’t just trying to get some male attention.

  Then she drew herself up. “Come on, get over yourself,” she said aloud. “Time to face the music.”

  She returned just in time to hear the chief’s speech.

  “Every once in a while, I feel it necessary to give thanks to certain people who have been…” Chief Bruner looked like he was searching for the next word.

  “Instrumental,” his assistant Stacey offered softly. Standing by his side, she handed him several four-by-six index cards.

  Oh, boy. He’s definitely had a few.

  “Yes. This is for the people who have been instrumental in cracking this last difficult murder case.” He silently read the first card. “So first up, I would like to thank detectives Laurence Sands and Anthony Marino. Detectives, stand up, please.”

  When they did, Tony definitely appeared uncomfortable at the tremendous burst of cheers. Larry looked nothing less than blissful.

  Meanwhile, Stacey leaned over to whisper something in her boss’s ear.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding to Larry and Tony, “and if you both would come up, I have special Certificates of Appreciation awarded to you from our very own Hillside Police Association.” He motioned for them to come join him. Another round of cheers erupted.

  The detectives shook their supervisor’s hand, took their certificates, and came back to the table. But as the general hum of good will continued around her, an uncomfortable feeling washed over Brooke.

  Would she have to go up to the front in her dress? Not so good. More catcalls and whistles? She could feel her pulse charging.

  “Next up is a civilian. Dr. Henry Wiles is an ex-laureate Professor of Literature from Yale University and his research has been invaluable to our department. In fact, as you all are probably aware, he was physically targeted for his investigations. Come on up, Dr. Wiles, to receive your certificate.”

  Rising, Henry made it over to the captain and accepted the framed document with a big smile and an even bigger handshake, mano-a-mano style.

  Oh no, no, no. I can’t go up there in this dress. Brooke looked down at their tablecloth. Maybe she could wrap that around her? Nah. Too much like a cartoon. She eyed Abby’s dark sweater with little black beads on it. A bit 1950s Mamie Eisenhower, yes, but still, it might counteract attention to her front. She was leaning across the table to ask Abby for permission, when the chief again spoke.

  “Okay. I have to admit, the next two recipients of this coveted certificate are the last people I ever thought I’d want to thank.” Chief Bruner paused, his eyes boring a hole into Brooke. “But Ms. Bennett’s––shall we say––unusual approach to the case and our own Ms. Anderson’s tenaciousness and bravery have made me rethink my opinion of their capabilities.”

  Gesturing to them both, he said, “So come up here, Abby Bennett, and…”

  Here comes his Betty Ann.

  “Brooke Anderson. Both of you come up, please.”

  Amazingly, it wasn’t as bad as Brooke had feared. She loved seeing Abby getting all teary-eyed and perhaps all the men had gotten their wolf whistles and cat calls out of their systems. What remained was just a supportive blast of cheers and applause.

  After Abby accepted the certificate and shook the chief’s hand, it was Brooke’s turn. As he handed over the framed paper accolade, he actually smiled. Then said, low, “From now on, I will call you two the Brooke and Abby show.”

  What?

  He chuckled. “And both of you need to come to my office next week, so we can discuss how we’ll proceed with future cases.”

  “But…” Brooke started.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re actually going to fight me on this, Brooke?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. Never.”

  His laugh was loud, undoubtedly fueled by booze. But she’d take it. Gladly.

  Back at their table, Abby didn’t even sit down. A nervous glance at her watch and she exclaimed, “Time to go, Brooke. The taxi should be outside.”

  So soon. She glanced over at Tony who looked––what? She didn’t get a good read.

  She hugged Larry and Henry good-bye, nodded to Tony, then left with Abby.

  Outside, the weather had turned chilly, with the thinnest mist layering the streets, the sparse winter trees, and the taxicab. She followed her cohort into the cab, dipped into her purse then suddenly cried out, “My phone. I think I left it in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  Returning to the bathroom, she concentrated only on her mission. As she moved, she could already feel Abby’s probable growing angst in the car. Poor girl. Another night with her Snooty-Snoots.

  The hallway to the little girls’ room was long and dark, but luckily the bathroom itself was well lit. On the counter lay her cell phone where she must have left it, covered by a little note. “Whoever belongs to this should be more careful next time.”

  Brooke smiled. So much for all cops being crooked. Abby! Gotta go before she has a heart attack.

  She banged open the door and began a non-girly trot down the dim hall to the main exit. Five paces out, she was jerked sideways. And into Tony’s arms. Before she could even react, he was holding her, and muttering soft words into her silky hair, her neck. She could feel the gooseflesh on her arms now alive and kicking, the urge to connect further, powerful.

  “Brooke, I can’t let you go without…”

  “Without?” she asked, looking up as she fused into him.

  “This.” When he kissed her, his lips were surprising soft as they pressed against hers. Don’t ever stop her mind and body begged, and for a few magical moments, he didn’t.

  As if in a fog, she could hear Abby’s strident voice way down at the hall’s entrance. “Brooke, where are you? Are you there? We’re going to be late.” Then nothing. She’d obviously disappeared.

  Tony pulled back slightly.

  No, please, don’t do that.

  “I guess you better go. Abby needs you,” he said, his voice so deep, it resembled a soft growl.


  “I guess so,” she said, almost afraid to look at him again. But she did, just in time to see him give her the cutest little wink.

  “Go get ‘em Brooksy,” he cooed.

  Outside in the car, Abby swatted at her friend. “Where were you? What took you so long? I can just see Dolores foaming at the mouth.” She didn’t stop there. She went on about how she disliked her entire family, how she counted on Brooke to bail her out no later than nine o’clock, and how it all…

  Soon, her ramblings mimicked the same rhythms of the road, the wind blowing, and the little rain droplets now spitting against the side windows. At one point, Abby turned to her new Bestie. “Sorry I’ve roped you into this again. Hope you’re not too upset.”

  Brooke shrugged. Then smiled. No problem. She could care less about Abby’s kin. She was far too busy thinking of all kinds of other things––and grinning like a fool.

  * *

  Click here to leave a review for Tea, Anyone?. It’s very important for a book’s success to have reviews, and leaving one is greatly appreciated. Simply give the book a star rating and leave a couple of comments or thoughts on the book. Simple and short are the best reviews for any book. Thank you for reading!

  Click here to learn more about my other novels.

  ~ S.R. Mallery

  THANK YOU

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read Tea, Anyone? Book 1, A Brooke & Abby Cozy Mystery. I sure hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I would certainly appreciate a short review on Amazon or Goodreads. Click here to leave a review on Amazon.

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  OTHER BOOKS BY S.R. MALLERY

  The Dolan Girls – In 1800s Nebraska, where ladies of the night, brutal outlaws, colorful land rushes, and Buffalo Bill’s Wild West shows are the norm, can a whorehouse madam and her schoolmarm daughter both find true love?

  Ellie & The War on Powder Creek – It’s 1891 and The Dolan Girls western romance saga continues. It stars the feisty Ellie Dolan Parker, who finds herself caught up in the middle of the Wyoming Cattle Wars. Filled with Rich, greedy cattle barons, crooked politicians, a major kidnapping, local ranchers in life-threatening danger, and a troubled marriage, this story is a colorful portrayal of a forgotten time. A time when these events and people filled the newspapers.

  Unexpected Gifts – Can we learn from our ancestors? In this 2017 Readers’ Favorite Gold medal winner, a confused college student learns about life from her ancestors’ journals, as she reads of their time during Vietnam, Woodstock, McCarthyism, the Great Depression, their arrival on Ellis Island, and fighting as Suffragists.

  Trouble in Glamour Town – Murder. Corruption. Romance. Movie Stars. A modern-day TV shoot ‘em up? No. It’s 1926 Old Hollywood, and a film producer is gunned down in cold blood. In comes Rosie, a pretty bit-player, who, in spite of her stage-mother’s expectations, just longs to be happy. Silent screen idols Clara Bow, Gloria Swanson, Lon Chaney, and Rudolph Valentino float in and out, as Los Angeles’ corruption is exposed, the era described, and a chase to find the killer revs up before there’s another hit.

  Sewing Can Be Dangerous and Other Small Threads – History, mystery, action, and romance are all rolled into one book in this 2016 Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal winner. These short stories follow drug traffickers using hand-woven wallets; a U. S. slave sewing freedom codes into quilts; a cruise ship murder mystery; hiding Christian passports in Nazi Germany; Salem Witchcraft quilt curse; the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, and a 1967 Haight-Ashbury love affair gone horribly wrong, just to name a few.

  Tender Enemies – It’s 1941 in New York City, a time before Pearl harbor, when Nazi spies are everywhere in the U. S. and no one knows who’s working for whom. In comes beautiful Lily, paid to gather intelligence by setting up a “honey trap” for Joe Stiles, a supposed German infiltrator. Problem is, she soon faces a danger she isn’t prepared for––falling in love.

  Tales To Count On – Whether it’s 500 words or 5,000, these stories, where sad meets bizarre and deception meets humor; where history meets revenge and magic collides with gothic, will remind you in the end, nothing is ever what it seems.

  Genteel Secrets – What do a well-bred Southern Belle and a Northern working-class Pinkerton detective have in common? Espionage…and romance. At the start of the U.S. Civil War, while young men begin dying on American battlefields and slavery is headed toward its end, behind the scenes, female undercover work and Pinkerton intelligence are alive and well. But in the end, can this unlikely Romeo and Juliet couple’s love survive, or will they be just another casualty of war?

  Snippets In Time – Drift back in time with award winning S. R. Mallery, as she presents some excerpts––or “snippets”––from her different books. They range from an American family saga to full, historical adventures involving sewing; from a U.S. Civil War Romeo and Juliet couple defying all odds to a 1926 Old Hollywood romantic murder mystery; from both a colorful Western romance and a Nazi spy romance thriller to short stories that keep you guessing.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First off, much thanks to my editor, Patricia Zick, who, besides checking that pesky grammar, always makes sure things are logical and succinct. To my beta readers, Dianne Harman, Anna Celeste Burke, and Uvi Poznansky, I am grateful for all of your comments and suggestions. Much thanks also to Ada Frost, for her great cover work––and patience.

  Last, but definitely not least, to my husband, Richard, much thanks and love for always supporting my neurotic need to create.

  Contact Information

  Patricia Zick

  Dianne Harman

  Anna Celeste Burke

  Uvi Poznansky

  Ada Frost

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Let me introduce myself. I’m a USA Today bestselling author and two-time Readers’ Favorite Gold Medal winner, who, as my fans say––“brings history to life.”

  As for my bio, I’m as eclectic as my characters. I’ve been a singer, a composer, a production artist, a calligrapher, a quilt designer, and an adult ESL/Reading/Accent reduction teacher. But for the last several years, writing historical fiction made me feel like I’d come home. It was where I received various awards, and in addition, got to do my second love: Research.

  Still, I’ve also always loved mysteries––cozy, mainstream, cop shows/books, you name it. So recently, after I decided to dip my toe into the cozy mystery world, I faced the jackpot question: How do I mix some historical research with a totally modern mystery?

  Easy-Peasy. Time Travel. Just a tidbit of it inserted into my cozy series. And voila! Tea, Anyone? Book 1.

  BONUS EXCERPT

  When in Rome

  A Brook & Amy Cozy Mystery Series Book 2

  Is actor Alex Russo’s death

  an epileptic Grand Mal seizure…or is it murder?

  This time Abby goes back to Ancient Rome

  to look for clues…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brooke sighed. Sitting in a theater the size of a large broom closet, about to see some nitwit drama student’s first attempt at a play, wasn’t exactly her idea of relaxing on a Sunday afternoon. But of course, she’d do it––for her niece, Haley.

  Haley. Not only was she family, she was high up on Brooke’s short list of good things in her life. Just seven years older than the teenager, Brooke still saw Haley as someone to both love––and protect.

  But the play’s title was “The Artful Trash Can.” What could you possibly do with that? Maybe put a warning label on the playbill, “Do not watch unless a shot of anesthesia is handy.”

  “Auntie Brooke, thanks for coming with me, Haley said, from Brooke’s right
side.

  “Yeah, glad you’re here, Ms. Anderson,” agreed Jessica Taylor, a fellow drama student, sitting on Brooke’s left.

  Holding up the crudely made playbill, Brooke attempted conversation. “So, ladies, why don’t you tell me about the people listed in this booklet while we wait.”

  She opened it up. The first picture was of a very handsome young man named Alex Russo. According to the text, he was twenty-one years old.

  “Oh, he’s so talented,” Jessica exclaimed.

  Haley scoffed. “Yeah and full of himself.”

  Jessica nodded. “On the surface, maybe, but sometimes we have to look deep within a person to find out who they truly are.”

  Jeez. Miss philosophy student.

  Just then, someone was slowly walking up their aisle. As soon as the middle-aged woman with streaks of gray here and there caught sight of Brooke, she sniffed loudly. “Hello, Betty Ann,” she said coldly and continued past them.

  Instantly, Brooke let out a small groan. “Good old Carrie Russo,” she muttered.

  “Russo. Is she Alex’s mom?” Haley wanted to know.

  “Betty Ann?” Jessica asked. “I thought your name was Brooke.”

  “Don’t even go there, Jessica.” Haley laughed. “Right, Auntie Brooke?”

  The police researcher nodded. “Not unless you want to get hurt. Yes, Carrie Russo is Alex’s mom. FYI, I know her from my grammar school days. She was my teacher, and boy, dealing with her back then was not a pretty sight.”

  Aware of Haley’s sudden silence, Brooke felt bad. Poor kid. She knows how I can get. “Anyway, moving on, who are these other actors? And what are––”

  Just then Carrie Russo went by them again, only to take a seat off to their left, one row down. Brooke noticed Carrie was met with a couple of hugs as soon as she sat down. Family? Can’t imagine she has any friends.

  She motioned for Jessica to give her commentary on each actor. Haley tossed out a smile or a head nod after each one named. Skipping over the playwright, Jessica pointed to the last picture. It was of the director, Daniel Bianchi. Suddenly, both girls smiled. Actually, Jessica beamed. Then literally gushed over him. According to her, he was a great professor of Antiquities during the day, and by night, a fine director of plays. She went on to say how everyone respected him, and how…