A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery (7 page)

“So, there were three hours when someone could have slipped in, killed Howard Lance, and then slipped out again.”

“You’ve clearly never worked in a diner’s kitchen,” Moose said.  “It’s as busy as a four ring circus back here.”

“Not necessarily,” I said, hating to contradict my grandfather, especially when it only hurt us.  “Greg and I had lunch out front from around five to five thirty.  If you’re looking for a time of death, I’m guessing that’s going to line up pretty closely, unless the cold temperature throws off the coroner when he performs the autopsy.”

“What do you know about autopsies?” the sheriff asked me.

“I read a lot, and it’s eclectic,” I said.  “It’s amazing the kind of odd tidbits I pick up.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

As he stroked his chin, he said, “No, I can’t do that.  It’s most likely that your time line is closer than anything science is going to be able to come up with, given the circumstances.”

“Then we were of help to you,” Mom said.

“Sure, that’s good information to have,” he said.  “I’ll rephrase my question, given what you just told me.  Where were each of you between five and five thirty this afternoon?”

“I already told you.  Greg and I were out here eating,” I said, “and there are half a dozen folks who can testify to that.  We’re in the clear.”

I was feeling pretty proud of myself when he said, “Not so fast.  Victoria, as much as I hate to admit it, I can see another scenario playing out here.”

“Go on.  I’m listening,” I said.

“What if Howard came in between four and five?  He confronted you, you killed him, and your husband helped you stash him in the freezer.  You pretended nothing happened until you conveniently discovered the body later.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Moose asked as he started angrily toward the sheriff.

My dad was too quick for him, though.  “Hang on a second, Dad.  You’re not going to be able to do us any good if you’re sitting in a jail cell being charged with assaulting an officer of the law.”

Moose turned away, and the sheriff said, “Thanks for that.”

My father turned on him then, and said, “Don’t thank me for anything just yet.  I’d like to punch your lights out myself for implying that my daughter was involved in this in any way.  You are way out of line, Sheriff, and this group interview is over.”

“It’s over when I say it is,” Sheriff Croft said firmly.

“If you want to hold us, you’ll have to arrest us,” Martha said as she stood.  “Family, let’s go.  We’re leaving.”

The sheriff was clearly flabbergasted by my grandmother’s stand, but he made no move to stop us as we walked out together.

“This is most disturbing,” Martha said.  “It appears that our family is going to be at the center of the police’s investigation of this murder.”

“The problem is that we know that none of us did it, but it’s going to be hard to prove,” Greg said, and Moose put an arm around my husband’s shoulder for a moment in support.

“But we have to convince them that we’re innocent,” my dad said.  “Does anyone have any idea how we might do that?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Enlighten me,” Dad said.

“If nobody else is trying to solve this case without focusing on our family, then we’re just going to have to do it ourselves.”

There were a few murmurs of assent, and then Martha nodded.  “Agreed.  We’ll reconvene at our house and decide on an order of business.  Victoria, you’re the crime fiction lover among us.  Will you be the head of our unofficial investigation?”

“I’d be happy to,” I said, “but solving crimes written by novelists isn’t the same as solving them in real life.”

“You’ve got an analytical mind,” Moose said.  “I agree with my wife.  You’re the boss, at least as far as this murder investigation goes.”  He looked around at the others, and asked, “Are there any objections from anyone about this?”

I was proud when my entire family agreed, but I also felt the burden of this decision.  It appeared that it was going to be up to me to lead this crazy group and hunt down a killer.

I just hoped that I was up to the task.

We were about to leave the diner’s parking lot when the front door opened.  “Hang on a second,” the sheriff said.

When he joined us, he said, “I know you people, and I consider you all friends, but I don’t want you digging around in this murder yourselves, do you understand me?”

“What gave you the idea that we’d do that?” I asked as innocently as I could muster.

“Like I said, I know you.”

“If we want to dig into this murder, you can’t stop us,” Moose said, clearly irritated by the sheriff’s attempt to stifle our investigation before it even got started.

“Maybe not,” he said as he scratched his chin,  “but you have to admit that I could make life pretty unpleasant for all of you.”

“Be reasonable,” I said.  “We all know that we’re in this up to our necks.  Folks in this town like you, but there are quite a few who aren’t going to give you the time of day when you start asking questions, and you know it.  Why not use us instead of banning us from investigating?”

“Because none of you are trained police officers,” he said, his voice getting a little heated.

“Don’t you see, though?  That’s an advantage, in this case.”

“Stop trying to appease him, Victoria.  He’s not going to budge, and neither am I,” Moose said.

The sheriff thought about it, and the finally said, “You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”

Moose stood proudly as he shook his head.  We came from a long line of dissenters, and he was doing his best to make our ancestors proud.

The sheriff looked around, and then let out a heavy sigh.  “If any of you breathes a single word of this to anyone else, our deal’s off.  One of you, and I mean one, can do a little nosing around the edges.  Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.  If you find one small speck of something that might be evidence, you are to bring it directly to me.  Moose, I assume that you’re the one who will be investigating.”

“No, sir, not me.  We already voted, and Victoria’s running this operation.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I didn’t have to.  He turned to Greg before I could reply and asked, “Do you feel good letting your wife confront a killer all by herself?”

“She won’t be alone,” Greg said.  “If she goes anywhere, I’m going to be right there beside her.”

Moose stepped in at that moment.  “Greg, I’m sure that Victoria appreciates your commitment to her, but most of the folks involved in the original deal are old codgers like me.  We go way back, and I know where all of the skeletons are buried.  I won’t let anything happen to her.  You have my word on that,” he said as he stuck out his hand.

To his credit, Greg looked at me before he moved another muscle.  “What do you think about that, Victoria?”

“He’s right.  It’s got to be the two of us.”

“Why can’t Moose do it alone?” Greg asked.

I looked at my husband as I said, “It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone standing here that Moose has a tendency to shoot first and ask for explanations later.”  I turned to my grandfather and added, “Do you disagree with that?”

“What can I say?  I believe in getting straight to the point,” Moose said.

“It might be an admirable trait normally,” I said, “but this calls for something more subtle than a brick between the eyes.  I won’t do it if you don’t let me ask the questions.  Are we agreed?”

He took a moment, and then nodded.  “That’s fine.”

The sheriff just shook his head.  “I should be locked up for agreeing to this, but I’ve got a hunch that I’m going to need all of the help I can get.  Do me a favor and don’t do anything that risks your lives.  I couldn’t stand wading through the paperwork if something happened to either one of you.”

He walked back inside, and I turned to the rest of my family.  “I didn’t mean to exclude you all, but I have a hunch the sheriff was going to withdraw his offer if I didn’t agree to just the two of us investigating.  Is that acceptable?”

“As it can be,” Greg said as he hugged me.  Mom and Dad joined in, and Martha hugged Moose. 

She said soft enough for all us to hear, “If anything happens to my granddaughter, you might as well keep on going and not show your face around here ever again.  Do we understand each other, Moose?”

I glanced over and saw my grandfather nodding solemnly.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then, that’s settled.  Let’s go home and have a brainstorming session together.  Just because we can’t help actively investigate doesn’t mean that we can’t put our heads together and come up with some kind of plan of attack.”

After working together as a family late into the night, Moose and I had a list of suspects to speak with in the morning.  Dad was going to work as usual, ready to help at a moment’s notice if he was needed, while Greg and Mom planned to work together at our place for the same reason.  While they were there waiting together in case we needed them, they were going to work on some new recipes for The Charming Moose, so it wasn’t as though they would be sitting around twiddling their thumbs.

Moose and I would be tackling a pretty thorough list, one that included Hank Brewer, Cynthia Wilson, Bob Chastain, and Francie Humphries.  If anyone else got our attention, we’d tackle them as well, but for the moment, we had more than enough that we had to do. 

At least the diner was closed.  I hated the loss of income and inconveniencing our regular patrons, but it would allow us to focus on the investigation and not worry about who would have to be there to take my place.  I wasn’t exactly essential to the daily operation of the diner, but I was there more than anyone else, and my presence would be missed.

“Where should we start?” I asked Moose the next morning as I climbed into his battered old pickup truck.  He’d come by to collect me, and I’d heard him coming with that battered old muffler of his three blocks away from the house.  His truck had once been a subdued shade of red, but those days were long gone.  Moose liked to repaint any faded spots or repairs with whatever can of spray paint he had on hand, and it had become a tie-dyed explosion over the years.  He could have driven a brand new vehicle if he’d wanted to, but my grandfather said that this one suited him, and who was I to disagree?

“I thought we’d pop in on Francie first thing this morning,” he said as he headed in the direction of her shop, a bakery she’d named simply, Iced.  It allowed her to have a lot of fun with the name in the shop, decorating the windows with overblown images of snowflakes year-round.  The walls and ceiling inside had been painted a uniform shade of pale blue, and white icicles had been painted randomly hanging down the sides.  It almost gave you a chill when you walked inside.  Fake diamonds were scattered around the place as well, with large ones the size of a man’s fist glued to the register.  She didn’t need the cutesy theme, though; her cakes and cupcakes were known throughout most of North Carolina, and her cookies were not that far behind.

“Hello, Moose,” Francie said with a nervous smile.  She was my grandfather’s age, short and thin, with hair that had once been blonde, but was now solidly silver.  In a very real way, she’d grown to project the perfect image of her shop, with hair naturally frosted white with age.  “I heard about what happened to Howard Lance.  It’s terrible that someone killed him in your diner.”

“It had to happen someplace, I guess,” Moose answered.  It was too much for me to hope that Francie hadn’t heard about the murder yet.  Jasper Fork was a small town, and word spread like wildfire in a drought around my home town.

“How does this affect our properties?”

“I doubt anyone will be following up on it, since it appears that Howard Lance was trying to extort money from all of us.”

She looked puzzled by the news.  “Does that mean the legal document he gave me wasn’t real?  It looked plenty authentic to me.”

“The paperwork was the real deal,” I said, “but the conditions of the claim weren’t.”

“Who would do such a wicked thing?” Francie asked, dismay showing clear on her face.

“Somebody who wanted to scare us into paying him money to make it all go away,” Moose said.  “When’s the last time you saw the man, Francie?”

“When he delivered that paper,” she said.  “I guess it was two days ago.  Why do you ask?”

Moose had ignored his promise to me and had gone straight to the heart of our questioning.  I’d wanted to ease into it, but he’d robbed me of that option.  “We’re trying to figure out if anyone paid him off.  If they did, maybe we can help them get their money back.”  That wasn’t exactly true, but I needed to gauge how much of a perceived threat Howard Lance had been to our list of suspects.

“I couldn’t have paid him if I’d wanted to,” she said, disheartened by the admission.

“I thought you were doing well.  The bakery always seems to be busy, despite the lack of customers at the moment,” I said as I looked around the place.

“We do okay, but it’s tough to get too far ahead selling what we do where we’re located,” she answered.  “If we were in Charlotte or Raleigh, we’d do much better, but I never could stand big cities.”