Smothered in Onions

by Tracey Quinn

  “I want one of them Polish sausages,” Pearl said. “How about you, Jackie?”

  “I'll get the same thing,” Jackie said, “but can I get it with french fries? I don't want any murder onions.”

  “Don't call 'em that in front of her, dummy!” Pearl chided. “Excuse her manners, Miss O'Shea.”

  “Murder onions?” I asked incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

  “Seeing as Mr. McGee murdered Mr. Duval with those onions, I didn't want to eat them,” Jackie explained. “I know you probably wash them real good to get the blood off them, but I'd rather just have fries all the same.”

  “We're not using onions from the murder scene! These are different onions; they're perfectly fine.”

  “But you shop at from McGee's Market, right?”

  “Well yes, but-”

  “I'll have fries, too,” Pearl said.

  After they left, Brendan asked, “Is that why no one will eat the onions? How could anyone think we'd be serving the same onions that were at the scene of the murder? You'd have to be crazy!”

  “I think you just described most of our customers,” I said. “I'd better call the diner and tell Don to deep-six the onion soup he was planning to make for dinner. We'll go with broccoli cheese soup instead, and hope no one gets shot in a broccoli patch before then.”

  I went back to the counter and tried not to think about the four bushels of onions that I bought yesterday which would probably go rotten before anyone in town ordered another onion ring. I should get one of those black lights that they use on TV to see invisible traces of blood and other fluids. Every time someone comes to the counter I could just whip out the black light and shine it on the onion rings and say, “See? No blood from a dead guy. Want some?”

  As I thought it over, I remembered something Mark had told me; he said that there wasn't much blood at all in the onion crate because it seemed that Lloyd was killed somewhere else and just dumped in the crate behind the market. But where had Lloyd been killed? It seemed to me that the most likely place was at the rec center or in the bank vault. Lloyd was surely the one who had robbed the bank, but then someone came in and killed him and took the stolen money- or perhaps the killer was an accomplice who had double-crossed him. They would have cleaned up the blood, but it was probably a hasty job since they would hardly have wanted to hang around at the scene of the crime for long. If I had a black light, who knows what I might find? A footprint or maybe even some fingerprints?

  Okay, that was a long shot, but if I could get into the rec center with a black light there was a chance I could find something that would clear Gene's name. Or at least put a stop to the onion-phobia. Maybe I'd order one when I got home.

  As I was pondering this, a tall young man with long black hair and a handlebar mustache came up to the booth. He was dressed all in faded denim and wore mirrored sunglasses. “Hey, Suze says you're the dudes selling the murder onions, right?” he asked. “I'll take an order. I like living dangerously.”

  I would have explained how the onions weren't from the murder scene, but I didn't want to risk losing my first onion ring sale all day, so I let it go. “Are you a friend of Suze's?” I asked.

  “Brother.”

  “Oh! She called her brother 'Baldy' so I didn't expect-”

  “Yeah, my mother gave me that nickname because I didn't have any hair when I was a baby,” the young man said. “ I was her first kid and she didn't know how that worked. Anyway it just stuck.”

  “Suze tells me you're a pilot.”

  “Sure, I do a bit of that. She's got some dude lined up that needs to skip town real fast and wants to pay cash for me to do the flying. Sounds like a good gig to me.”

  I hadn't thought of it that way before, but it did seem like Roger was in a hurry to get out of town. Could it be related to Lloyd's murder? Unlikely, I had to admit. He was asking me to fly his plane before Lloyd was killed, and it was hard to imagine what sort of dealings a guy like Roger would have with Lloyd. Also, since Lloyd hadn't been talked to death it almost ruled Roger out completely. Still, it was a lead and I wasn't about to turn down any lead.

  “Where does he want you to take him?” I asked as I handed Baldy his onion rings.

  “I dunno,” he shrugged. “Suze will get the details. I ain't got time for that.”

  He turned and held up the bag of onion rings to the kids standing behind him in line. “Hey, look! It's the murder onions!” he said.

  “You're not really gonna eat those, are you?” a little girl asked pensively.

  Baldy laughed gleefully and tossed an onion ring into his mouth, chewing loudly with his mouth open.

  “That's so gross!” the girl cried as she and her friends ran away from the booth.

  I took out my phone and started ordering a black light with express overnight shipping.

  That evening I sat in my office at the Breezy Spoon, glad to be off my feet after I had spent all those hours standing in the booth at the fair. Even though I was trying to relax, I found my mind kept going back to the murder of Lloyd Duval and the bank robbery. I knew Gene McGee was innocent and I knew I had to do something to prove it, but I didn't feel like I was much closer to the truth than when I started.

  I had suspects now, at least; Maurice Sharp, who was sure Lloyd had stolen a lot of money from his glove factory, and didn't have the best of alibis. Mayor Pumphrey couldn't account for his whereabouts on the night of the murder either, and he had certainly been in a panic over the thought of contending with Lloyd over the mayor's office. Roger Travers was in a hurry to leave town, and although that could have more to do with his latest moneymaking scheme than anything to do with Lloyd, there could still be a connection. Then of course there was the grizzly bear, Troy Belcher's brother; wanting to take revenge on the man who killed his brother was a pretty powerful motive, and turning up in East Spoon Creek City right after Lloyd did couldn't have been a coincidence.

  But which one did it? Suspects were one thing, but without any evidence to point towards one of them, I was just feeling around in the dark. I couldn't exactly call up Bob and ask what the sheriff's investigation had turned up, so I had to find something of my own to go on. I opened my laptop and looked up the number for the rec center; that black light would arrive tomorrow and if I could try it out in the rec center I just might find the clue I needed.

  I dialed the number and waited while it rang. It kept right on ringing and I was about to give up when finally a voice came on the other end. “Yeah? What?” the voice mumbled.

  “Um, is this the rec center?” I asked.

  “This is Joey Tugg. If you want to know something about the rec center I guess I can help you,” he yawned.

  “Joey? From Al's Emporium?” Joey was the janitor at Al's Emporium the last I had heard, although considering how dingy the emporium was it wouldn't surprise me if he had been fired.

  “Yeah, that's me. I got me a side job managing the rec center for some extra money. Al don't pay that good.”

  No surprise there. “This is Dani O'Shea from the Breezy Spoon diner,” I said. “I'm planning an event and I'm thinking that the rec center might be a good place to hold it. I would need to look inside and see if it's big enough for my event, though. Would you have time to show it to me tomorrow?”

  “Show it to you?” Joey seemed as confused with my request as if I had just asked him to go to the moon with me. “I dunno... I don't think I'd have time for that. Why don't you just use the key under the mat, and put it back when you're done?”

  “The key under the mat?”

  “Yeah, the Duval guy who gave them talks in the rec center suggested that I could just leave a key under the door mat for him so he wouldn't have to bother me to open and close the place for him. He was a nice dude; always helping folks out with stuff.”

  “Er, yes, that's what people tell me. Did you know him well?”

  “Nah, not too good, but he stuck up for me for me when the mayor got on my back about
the rent for the place. That's the kind of guy he was.”

  “The mayor wanted rent from you?”

  “From Duval. When he started he gave me an IOU for the rent, but I figured he was good for it since he told me he was only giving them lectures to help the community and all. Well, when the mayor found out I hadn't collected the rent he started hasslin' me about it, and then he started hasslin' Mr. Duval about it until finally Mr. Duval puts his foot down and says the mayor should mind his own business! He told him that he weren't a good mayor anyhow if he was meddling in other folks' affairs like that, and he'd give him something better to think about. Then Mr. Duval challenged the mayor to a debate! You should have seen the ol' mayor's face when he heard that! I just about laughed out loud!”

  “That's really something,” I said. “Well, thanks for your help. I'll be sure to put the key back under the mat when I leave.”

  So that was it! Lloyd was only “running” for mayor to keep Mayor Pumphrey from collecting the rent for the rec center! You'd think with all the money he made from his lectures and the cash he was going to steal from the bank, he could afford to pay the rent for the rec center for a few days rather than lock horns with the mayor, but I guess that's just the way Lloyd's mind worked. It might have cost him his life!

  I was about to put my phone away when I remembered that I hadn't seen Mark all day. I had thought he would visit the booth at the fair, but he hadn't come. I supposed that after dealing with a fire the night before, he was too tired. I decided to call him and see if he wanted me to bring dinner home from the diner.

  “Don't bother,” Mark said when I called him. “I'm eating out tonight. I found this nice place in town called the Breezy Spoon.”

  “You're here now?”

  “Yes, are you? I thought you'd have gone home.”

  “No, I'm still in my office. Are you eating now?”

  “If we're both here, why are we still talking on the phone?”

  “Because I thought it would be rude to just hang up on you like this.” I hung up.

  Outside I found Mark sitting at the counter looking over the menu, and Bob was seated next to him. “Bob! I didn't know you were here, too,” I said.

  “I would have told you if you hadn't rudely hung up on me,” Mark said.

  “I thought you were going to come by the booth at the fair.”

  “I was, but the fire down by the lake was a pretty bad one. It took a long time to get it under control and then I had to waste even more time dealing with a small town sheriff's deputy sticking his nose into things.” He gave Bob a nudge with his elbow.

  “That's true,” Bob grinned. “Dealing with disorganized firemen is one of the hazards of the job.”

  “My goodness, if Bob was called out there then it must have been a case of arson!” I exclaimed. “Did you find out who did it?”

  Bob and Mark exchanged glances. “We're still investigating the cause of the fire,” Bob said.

  “These things take time,” Mark added.

  “Well, they picked the right people if they wanted to stall for time,” I snapped. “What aren't you telling me about this? What's going on?”

  Bob and Mark looked at each other again.

  “Oh come on! Just tell me what it is!”

  “It was the Duval house,” Mark said.

  “The Duval house?! Someone burned it down?!” I turned to Bob.

  “Don't even start with me!” Bob said. “I told you we're investigating it! Just leave it alone!”

  “Well, you can't pin this one on Gene McGee! In fact, I'd say this proves that he's innocent!”

  “Not so fast; we don't know for sure that the fire is related to Lloyd Duval's murder. If it was, don't you think the murderer would be pretty dumb to do something like this while someone else is in jail for the murder?”

  “First someone ransacks Lloyd's hotel room and now his house is burned down; you really think it's all a coincidence?”

  “Wait, how did you know about the hotel room?” Bob asked. “You've been playing detective, haven't you?!”

  “Nick Havers from the Happy Rest Motor Lodge happens to be a friend of mine and I just happened to run into him this morning and he happened to bring up the fact that Lloyd happened to be staying there and someone ransacked his room,” I explained, trying to look innocent and indignant at the same time.

  They both grinned. “And you happened to think I'd be dumb enough to believe that?” Bob asked.

  “Why don't you take a napkin and wipe those stupid smiles off your faces before I do it for you?” I grumbled.

  “No can do,” Mark said, picking up the empty napkin tray from the counter. “I used the last of them to dry my hands because there were no paper towels in the men's room.”

  “Aargh!! Jimmy!” I groaned. “I've told him and told him to refill the paper towel dispenser in the men's room, and he never remembers to do it! I've told him to refill the ketchup bottles too, and I bet half of them are empty right now!”

  “Gimme me a roll. I'll do it,” Mark said.

  “No, I want the person who I pay money to do these things to actually do them! Ooh, the next time I see Jimmy-”

  “Careful, I don't want to have to arrest my own sister on an empty stomach,” Bob said.

  “Oh sorry, I forgot you haven't eaten yet. What do you want to order?”

  “I'll have the dinner special, but instead of the fruit salad I'll have a couple of those S'mores donuts,” Mark said.

  “What's a S'mores donut?” Bob asked.

  “It's one of Tammy's new donuts,” I said. “They're filled with marshmallow cream and have chocolate and some graham cracker crumbs on top.”

  “I'll have that too. It's sounds a lot better than fruit salad.”

  “Most things are,” Mark agreed.

  “Is there some particular reason that both of you have decided you don't like fruit?” I asked.

  “We like fruit,” said Mark, “just not fruit hash.”

  “Yeah, anything could be in there,” Bob said. “The last time I ate fruit salad, I swear there were pieces of turnip in there, maybe rhubarb.”

  “But, Bob, when we were kids and went to those big family dinners with our uncles and aunts you always had second helpings of the fruit salad,” I pointed out.

  “Yep, because good old Aunt Marilyn made it; canned fruit cocktail with loads of multi-colored miniature marshmallows.”

  “Ah yes, you used to pick out the marshmallows and avoid the sugary little fruit pieces. Well, I don't see how you can stay healthy if you won't eat fruit.”

  “Don't worry,” said Mark, “I'll call my Mom and ask her to put an apple in my lunch box.”

  I was tempted to give him the one-finger salute, but there were other customers in the diner. When I came back in a few minutes with their food, Bob said, “Hey, Dani, I almost forgot something I wanted to ask you guys. Kitty's birthday is a couple of days away and I want to take her someplace really nice after everything she's been through. There's a great restaurant called The Country Club in Pumpkin City; it's a country and western place, good food and line dancing. Would you two like to go along?”

  “Sure,” said Mark, “if it's okay with Dani.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I'd be happy to go.”

  And I was happy, especially since this was a place where we could go to dance that wouldn't require me to spend money on another new dress! We had gone to two dances together so far and I had to buy a new dress for both of them. My emergency savings was on life support and recently I noticed some kind of white cord showing through the rubber on the front tire of my Firebird, which I was pretty sure was a hint that I shouldn't be spending money on a dress right now. Jeans would be fine for line dancing, and even though my jeans weren't quite as loose as they used to be, they'd do. I could buy a tunic top for about $20 and I'd be all set.

  Well, I'd also have to keep Kitty's loving family friend from being put on trial for murder, but then I'd be all set.

/>   Chapter 9

  I checked our bullet-riddled mailbox before I left the house the next morning, but the mail hadn't been delivered yet. I'd have to wait until the afternoon to get my black light. That meant another morning of no onion ring sales, but with any luck it would be there when my shift was over and I could take it to the rec center. Linda and Don were at the city fair booth today so I would be handling the breakfast crowd with Brendan at the Breezy Spoon.

  I got into the Firebird and started off for the diner. I had barely made it three blocks when suddenly the car jerked to the side and I heard a thumpity-thump sound coming from the front ride wheel. I pulled to the curb and got out to have a look at what was wrong, even though I already knew what I would find; sure enough, the tire was flat. Goodbye emergency fund.

  I went to the trunk to get the spare tire, but then I remembered: no spare tire. The last time I got a flat I put the spare tire on and figured I could ride around like that for a while, rather than spend the money on a new tire right away. I had always meant to swing into McGarity's Garage sometime and get it all taken care of, but there were always other things that I needed the money for and it was easy to put it off. Well, there was no putting it off now. I got out my phone and started to call McGarity to send a tow truck.

  Just then I had a great idea; well, it was probably really crazy and even dangerous, but otherwise it was a great idea. I called information and got the number for Belcher's Towing. It was a long shot, I know; Belcher might not even be in the area any more now that Lloyd Duval was dead, but if he was, this would be a perfect way to get in contact with him.

  The phone rang several times until finally a gruff voice answered, “Yeah, what?”

  “Is this Belcher's Towing?”

  “Yeah, what?” the voice repeated.

  “My tire went flat and I've got no spare. I need to have my car towed to McGarity's Garage in East Spoon Creek City.”

  “Whaddya calling me for?”

  “Well, because you're a towing company.”

  “Look lady, I'm out on the highway by Kettletown right now. Call whoever does the towing in East Spoon Creek City.”