Who Shot the Serif? by Jessa Archer


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Who Shot the Serif?

Who Shot the Serif? by Jessa Archer (Hand Lettering Mystery Book 1)
English | 2019 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 454 Kb

Who Shot the Serif? : When Jamie Lang finds one of her hand lettered quotes on the window of her shop, Flourish, with a hole shot through a serif, she knows someone’s trying to drive her business into red ink. Jamie confronts Earleen Culp, the ruthless owner of the local stationery shop, in front of the most popular breakfast spot in the small town of Cedar Valley. Of course, Earleen professes shock and innocence, so when she’s found dead in front of Jamie’s home the next morning, Jamie becomes the prime suspect.
Jamie’s one cross-stroke short of acquittal, and even her best friend has her doubts. But Jamie’s not the only one in town with a motive for wanting Earleen silenced for good. To clear her name, Jamie’s going to need every last drop of ink in her quill.
With the hot police chief Ridge, and her makeup artist friend Nora on her side, she’s prepared to go out with a flourish if that’s what it takes to catch the real murderer. She’s desperate to save her hand lettering business, but will her quest lead her right into a killer’s snare?

“In a pleasant mood, as always, first thing in the morning,” he joked, and made a point of taking a sip of his coffee. “Some things never change. I can count on you like the tides.”

“Angel’s closed,” I muttered, which was obvious. Or Ridge wouldn’t have been here. He was as much a coffee snob as I was. But by necessity, he stomached bad brew with better grace.

Linda Lewis was working behind the counter. She took one look at me and winced. “Oh, no. Angel’s out again?” She looked panicky. “What is it this time? Another family funeral in the city? I swear, she has so many old relatives.”

“Fewer every day,” I said. “It’s only a matter of time before they’re all gone. It has to be.” I was selfishly optimistic. I really hated it when Perk Me Up was closed.

Ridge’s grin deepened.

“They’re dying off like flies,” Linda said. “I can never keep track of her huge family.”

“No one can,” I said.

“You want coffee, obviously.” Linda glanced at the pot sitting on a burner. “To go?” Did she sound hopeful?

I nodded. “Biggest cup you’ve got.” There was no point asking for a grande or a venti. Here coffee only came in small, medium, and as large as you can make it.

“Hang tight.” As Linda turned to pour me a cup, Earleen walked into the bakery.”

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