Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery)

by S. Dionne Moore

  The doors to the grocery store opened and who should come waltzing out with a bag of popcorn in one hand and his gums chomping fiercer than a beaver. At least beavers had teeth. Real teeth, that is.

  Hardy stopped dead, his eyes huge. “LaTisha?”

  “I sure ain’t a ghost. What you eating popcorn for? You aiming to get yourself an infection or something?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners and he held up the bag. “Its hulless popcorn. I suck on it till it’s mush, then swallow it. I was hungry.”

  Shiny patted Hardy in way of greeting. “LaTisha almost got hit by some crazy driver in a big blue car.”

  Hardy plopped down on the bench beside me. “Who was it?” He tilted the bag over his gaping maw and spilled a long trail of popcorn into his mouth.

  “I don’t know, they didn’t stop to introduce themself.”

  Hardy patted my leg. “Don’t get so mean.” He paused and stared at me a bit.

  I frowned hard.

  “I know that look. What did you go and buy this time?”

  Why did I have to be so transparent?

  Shiny busted out laughing. “You got her pegged, Hardy. I saw her trot on over here from the direction of Sasha’s shop.”

  “You want to change your order for peach cobbler, Shiny Portly?”

  Shiny’s laughter died a sudden death. “No, ma’am.” He fooled with the tie to his apron and ran a hand down his belly. “Let me go make sure those peaches are ready to deliver.”

  Hardy dug his hand down in his bag again and crammed his mouth full.

  I snatched the bag away.

  He straightened real quick-like and frowned.

  “You tell me what you’ve been doing all this time and stop loading up on stuff you’re not supposed to be eating.”

  One side of Hardy’s mouth quirked upward and his eyes seemed to turn into liquid chocolate. Puppy eyes. “Dr. Cryer didn’t say I couldn’t suck on stuff. Too sore to chew anyhow.”

  I hitched to my feet to avoid caving in to those beautiful eyes. Hardy fell into step beside me. “You tell the chief about William hiding in Regina’s Dumpster?”

  I figured he’d be yapping about his popcorn, so this change in conversation flipped on my suspicion switch. “Of course, I did. What got you to thinking about William hiding in that Dumpster?”

  He stopped dead. He had my full attention, knew it, and was plotting to milk it for all it was worth. I rattled the bag of popcorn. “Spill it or I’ll spill this all over the sidewalk for hungry little birds.”

  Hardy frowned at me. “You don’t play fair.”

  “I don’t want to play at all. Now talk.” But even as I talked tough, I held the bag of popcorn out like it was an olive branch.

  “I think I might be able to figure out who almost ran you over.” He got himself a handful, sucked on it a bit, then swallowed. “We’re going to do some Dumpster diving first.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You’ve gone crazy in the head if you think I’m diving into a dumpster.”

  Hardy flashed his new grillwork. “You won’t have to. I’ll do it for you.”

  “What do you know about sorting through trash?”

  “Remember that Christmas when you had a baby on each hip and one baking? We needed a bed for Tyrone because Shakespeare was on his way and we only had two cribs.”

  My mind churned back over that time and the wooden headboard, mattress and box spring that magically appeared Christmas morning. Tyrone had been thrilled to have a big-boy bed. “You got that from a dumpster?”

  Hardy’s eyes twinkled. “Went over to the apartments in Bakersville on the seventh of December when the landlord evicted people. I rooted around and found that bed. All I had to do was figure out a place to hide it so I could refinish it before Christmas.”

  “What are you thinking we need to go Dumpster diving for?”

  We stopped outside the entrance to the Goose and he leaned in tight. “That blue car. Did they say anything about recognizing it?”

  “Just that it wasn’t a new car.”

  Hardy stroked his jaw. “I saw a car I’d never seen before parked behind Betsy Taser’s office. You know how she has those big trees and that Dumpster that kind of hides anything parked back there? Looked like someone was throwing something out.”

  Betsy’s real estate office was part of a small row of stores on the same side of Gold Street as Sasha’s boutique but farther down. I knew the exact spot he meant. “We can’t dive into her Dumpster during the day.”

  Hardy shook his head. “We’ll go tonight.” Proud of himself, he did his best to irritate me and tugged north on the waistband of his light blue polyester pants.

  I ignored him. “You pick up on anything else?”

  “Went around to the library. Carl Baereum was there looking over anatomy books. He was making a sketch of an arm—”

  “Maybe he needs that for his job.”

  Hardy pursed his lips. “You didn’t let me finish. I asked him about what happened between him and the mayor. He said Eugene claimed he was overcharging people for burial, charging for crypts and such and not following through with the product, taking advantage of the grief-stricken and all that.”

  “You think it’s true?”

  Carl was the only funeral home director within forty-five minutes of Maple Gap. He’d done a good business for all these years, but he didn’t seem the greedy type. I wanted to groan. All this detecting made me start having to rethink people I’d known for years, or thought I’d known. I could see why cops tended to become cynical.

  “Anything could be true,” I pushed the words out, hating the thought of them being true. “Best not to jump to any conclusion at all.” Judging by the heads bobbing over plates in the Goose, the breakfast crowd was still going strong. “I’ve got to get in there and send these people home.” I lowered my voice for Hardy’s ears only. “Chief Conrad is coming in to question William.”

  Hardy pulled a yawn. “I’m going to drag myself back home to bed.”

  “Don’t be wasting time snoring. Pick up your prescription, pop down some pills, then check out Aidan’s like I asked.”

  “Too tired. A nap will perk me right up.” He shot me a cheeky grin and did a little hip wiggle for my benefit. “Got to keep fresh for my woman.”

  He didn’t even wait for a response, just waggled himself down the sidewalk aimed in the direction of home. I shook my head and pushed open the door of the Goose. The smell of toast, cinnamon, and bacon hit me full face. Elizabeth met me at the stand, visually relaxing when she realized I wasn’t another person waiting to be seated.

  “News must have leaked out about the murder. Seems like I’ve seen more strangers this morning than I have in the last decade.”

  I took in the flyaway hair glued to her forehead. “You’re looking ragged.” I turned and flipped the sign to read Closed from the outside. “That’ll take care of it.”

  “I haven’t waited tables since my high school days, but I am proud to say I only messed up one order.”

  I waved her onto a seat at the counter. “That’s better than Hardy does. I’ve had to fire that boy a half dozen times. Relax and sit. What can I get you?”

  Elizabeth rested her chin on her fists. “A tall glass of water and one of those cinnamon rolls William made this morning. People raved over them all morning, now it’s my turn.”

  I jotted it down on a piece of paper and snapped it onto the ring.

  Within seconds, the roll appeared. I placed the plate in front of Elizabeth. Like the lady she was, she picked up her fork and cut down into the chewy pastry. About made me want to swoon. William had used whole wheat in the dough, but I knew he had gone full force with the cinnamon-sugar and the cream cheese topping.

  I poured myself a glass of water and gulped it down quick-like. It had become the best way I knew to give myself a full feeling fast. And I needed it looking at that cinnamon roll. Times like this made having diabetes tough.

&
nbsp; William appeared in the doorway separating the kitchen from the dining room, a dish with a very small piece of cinnamon roll on it. He held it out to me. I struggled with myself for all of one second before snapping up that piece and popping it into my mouth. Instead of devouring it in one gulp, I did what they had suggested in our classes and let the sweet creaminess bathe my tongue. I savored the burst of cinnamon, and the softness of the dough. It was delicious.

  I extended my hand, palm out, and William met it in a high five. “You da bomb!”

  Elizabeth had left her spot, doing some refills and picking up money. I let her finish with the customers and started bussing tables closest to the kitchen. You see, I had me a strategy brewing about the chief questioning William at the Goose. As I finished up a table, Chief made his entrance.

  “Raspberry tea, coming up,” I offered. “You want me to shoo the rest of them out?”

  “No. I’ll wait.”

  I showed him to a table far away from the kitchen, then did my best to spread some fire under the remaining patrons. One lady, someone I’d never laid eyes on before, sipped her coffee and watched my every move. Gave me the shudders the way her eyes followed me. She finally waved me over and held up the bill and some money. “You have a delightful restaurant. I’ll be sure to do a nice review for the Denver paper.”

  I reached for the money. She didn’t let go, her smile a glittery artificial Christmas tree. At this point, I’m thinking she was waiting for me to gush my thanks. “Don’t do me any favors, I’ve got enough business to keep me hopping.”

  She frowned and released the money. “You are LaTisha Barnhart, correct?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve heard about you.”

  I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t pleased at that. I took a stab at humility. “Good things, I hope.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about the murder of that poor man.” Her expression turned hungry.

  “Hear a lot when you’re running a restaurant. Not everything you hear is true, though. It takes a good head to know truth and trumped-up story.” If my comment met its mark, she didn’t show it.

  Her head bobbed in agreement; where as seconds before I’d felt like a steak dinner in the path of a hungry lion, it now felt more like the lion wanting to share its meal.

  “You are very correct.” Her body angled forward, her voice going soft. “But I heard Aidan was connected to a rumor of a hit being called on the local mayor. Can you confirm that?”

  I kept my expression neutral. This news wasn’t known to anyone other than William, the chief, and me. No one could have gotten wind of it unless there was a leak from the police, or William. Or some other third party who knew of Aidan’s assignment.

  If Ms. Reporter hoped to get a rise out of me, she was flat disappointed. Instead, I turned on my irritation. “I got two things to confirm. Aidan Abbett is dead and Mayor Taser is our mayor. You want anything more than that, you’ll need to talk to the police.”

  “They won’t talk to me.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Now why do you think that is?” I turned on my heel and made her change, but when I returned, she’d already left. I asked Elizabeth to take over the last two tables of people and trotted myself over to the chief, sliding onto the chair across from him.

  “You’re doing a good business, LaTisha. Wasn’t that a reporter from the Denver Chronicle you were talking to?”

  “You recognized her?”

  “She came in earlier wanting me to confirm or deny the whole thing about Aidan being the hit man on Eugene. Apparently, she’d received an anonymous tip on the matter.”

  “Well, you must not have given her the scoop because she just finished asking me to confirm the rumor.”

  Chief balled up the paper from his straw. “Persistent, isn’t she?” He touched the end of his straw to the ball of paper and allowed some of the liquid tea to drop. Like a snake, the paper writhed and unfurled. “I know what you’re thinking, LaTisha. You know I wouldn’t breathe a word of anything to anyone. It’s my duty to keep these things confidential. If someone gave her a tip, it wasn’t me.”

  In that admission, a question mark hovered over me. “You know I wouldn’t either. So who?”

  He picked up the sodden straw paper in his napkin, his eyes flashing to mine. “I don’t know. I can mention it to William.”

  “Chief.” I paused, unsure how to say what needed said. “William isn’t quite right. I can’t put my finger on it, but his reactions are different.”

  He sat back in his chair. I had his full attention. “You think it’s from guilt?”

  “No. I think he has a medical condition. I’m just saying it so you won’t be shocked if he laughs or rocks or . . .”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Something else.”

  He pinched the sodden paper in his fingers and rolled it in his napkin.

  “Lester told me that Eugene was replacing Molly.”

  “Heard that. Eddie and Roger seem strange choices for a replacement.”

  So he had heard about Molly losing her place as Eugene’s treasurer too.

  “You know how things start flying around.” He covered his mouth with his hands and blew out a frustrated breath against his fingers. “It’s just like after Marion’s murder, suddenly everyone becomes suspect.”

  “I’m feeling you on that.” I caught Elizabeth waving a hand toward the door. The last of the breakfast rush was headed home, or work, or wherever they were headed. I went off to get William.

  “Anyone else know his secret yet?” Chief asked before I’d gone three steps.

  “Just Hardy, you, and me.”

  Chief gave me a short nod.

  Elizabeth came out of the kitchen, purse in hand. “I’m heading over to the store, LaTisha. Need anything?”

  “No, sweetie. Go ahead.”

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she called before the door shut behind her.

  In the kitchen, I signaled to William. He shuffled through the dining room not looking the least bit happy. I snagged the square container I used to clear tables. Since I’d already plotted to clean the tables closest to the kitchen, I headed over to the ones surrounding the chief that remained to be cleaned. Eventually, I cleaned my way up to the table next to where the two sat, my ear cocked their direction. I worked fast, but tried to keep my bumping to a minimum so I wouldn’t miss anything. Only problem was Chief wasn’t saying anything.

  Neither was William. He was staring down at his hands, his upper body vibrating. Probably jiggling his leg up and down.

  That’s when Chief Conrad leaned back in his chair, devilment in his dark eyes. “You know, I’ll do my best to talk loud enough, LaTisha, but really, I’m done with questioning William. We were just talking sports before you got to this table.”

  I plugged my hands down on my hips and lasered him with my eyes. “Well, you can just keep right on whispering. I don’t care one bit about the Pirates, Yankees, Rebels, or any team named after an animal.”

  “Oh, we knew you wouldn’t care about the sports.”

  “Are you trying to say you think I was eavesdropping?”

  “I wasn’t trying to say it at all. I just came out and said it.”

  I glared.

  He grinned.

  “I’ll get back to work now,” William said. He shoved back from the table. “Bob delivered peaches. I’ll slice them up for tonight’s cobbler.”

  Chief stuck out his hand as William stood. “It was nice talking with you.”

  I decided to call a truce with the chief by delivering a tidbit that might be interesting. I sat in the chair William had just vacated. “You heard anything about Carl Baereum charging people for more than he delivers?”

  “You’ve been talking to Eugene?”

  “No, Hardy heard it straight from Carl.”

  Chief wiped the condensation off his glass with an index finger. “It would be an easy scam and a foolproof way to take adv
antage of folks while they’re at their weakest emotionally and mentally.”

  “Why would Eugene make such an accusation?”

  “Who knows.”

  If Carl was Eugene’s best friend and staunchest supporter, why would Eugene choose now to estrange his friend? On the other hand, if the accusation proved true, Eugene could use it to bolster his image as a candidate. Concerned citizen uncovering a scam to prevent the locals from being victimized. Made a nice newspaper article.

  “I want you to look over Aidan’s jewelry store with me,” Chief said. “I want your impressions.”

  A buzzing vibrated the air. Chief looked down at his side and unclipped a gadget. He stared at it a second. “Mac needs me back at the station. Thanks for letting me use your restaurant.” He lifted a brow in question. “Did I hear him say you were serving cobbler?”

  “Don’t you ever eat at home?”

  “Sure we do, but when your cobbler’s for dessert, it’s worth the walk into town.” He lowered his voice a notch. “Tonight after service—at Aidan’s, okay?”

  “I’ll be there, Chief.”

  From the table, I watched him leave. William sat at the island counter slicing a peach in half and pulling out the pit. He rocked gently on the stool as he worked. The work would soothe him. I needed to clear my head too. A distraction of some sort. And I knew just the remedy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That’s a lot of peach cobbler,” Elizabeth said as she pulled the first pan from the oven. “I’m glad I got back in time to watch you put it together.”

  “A dump of flour, a splash of water. I cook by feeling.” A laugh spilled out when I saw Elizabeth’s dubious expression.

  William took the heavy pan from Elizabeth and set it on the island to cool. She took the stool across from me and watched as I mixed the batter for the last pan of cobbler, sprinkling a generous helping of cinnamon.

  “How’re things with George?”

  She sighed and fiddled with the edge of her apron. “He was glad I got this job, but he still feels such pressure. We can’t seem to talk about it without it becoming a shouting match.”