by Maddie Day
“Slow yourself down there, Robbie.” He held up a hand. “You’re more full of questions than one of them robots on the phone. At least you ain’t asking me to press one for this and two for that.” He drained his coffee. “See, it’s this way. Geller’s wife, Kristina—we all called her Tina—went missing about a decade ago. Geller said she left him. Nobody never heared from her again. Her twin sister, Beltonia? Toni wasn’t so sure. So, yes, Mayers is keeping that detail in mind. And it was, in fact, female remains.”
Yikes. “So it might be his wife?” I heard my voice rising and slapped my hand over my mouth. I checked around, but nobody seemed to have noticed.
“Might could be. Thing is, the doc’s got one of them false legs.”
“You mean a prosthesis?”
“Yup. Got the limb blown up in eye-rack.”
“In Iraq?”
“That’s what I said. Stepped on one of them mines or whatnot. He told us he don’t never venture into the attic. Can’t manage climbing up and down the pull-down steps. It’s what he claims, anyhoo.”
I wrinkled my nose. “How in the world could someone die in your attic and you don’t know about it? That doesn’t make sense. I mean, bodies must smell as they decompose. A lot.”
“Yes, they do. However, ’spose it was the wife and she had herself a accident up there during a cold winter. The process would go slower and not be so odoriferous.”
Buck, who so often sounded like a country bumpkin, once in awhile threw in words like “odoriferous,” and it made me smile. “And maybe the husband has a bedroom on the first floor, so he wouldn’t have noticed. I still think it’s strange.”
“It’s got strange written all over it.”
I thought for a moment. “Oscar must be starting an investigation.” Oscar Thompson, the state police homicide detective I’d had dealings with before.
“No, actually Oscar’s on a case down to Evansville. You might not want to hear this, but Octavia Slade has been assigned to figger out this here case.”
“Really?” Octavia was pretty much responsible for ending my budding relationship with Jim Shermer two years ago, or at least she shared the responsibility with him. I didn’t have a lot of warm fuzzy feelings for the woman, no matter how competent a detective she was.
Buck bobbed his head. “She got herself some special training in cold cases last year, and if this one ain’t cold, I’m a donkey’s great-granddad.”
“That means they think it was a murder.”
He shrugged. “It’s unexplained human remains. How the woman got dead is still to be determined along with who she was and all like that.”
I grimaced. “Well, it’s just awesome that Octavia will be around town for a while.”
“Now, Robbie. I know you two ladies got yourselves a small itty bit of history.” He gave me a kindly avuncular look. “Seems to me you’re a heck of a lot happier with O’Neill than with that scoundrel Shermer. Would I be wrong?”
“Of course you wouldn’t be wrong.” Of course I was happy. Very happy. It didn’t change the fact that as soon as Jim laid eyes on Octavia, the two had decided to resume a prior relationship, leaving me in the dust. It still hurt in a residual kind of way. Lucky for me, Jim had moved out of town a couple of months later so I didn’t have to run into either him or Octavia around South Lick.
My B&B guests trotted down the interior stairs. The bell on the door jangled as more than a dozen people filed in all at once. Danna gave me a panicked look from the grill. I stood.
“Looks like we have a tour bus invasion, Buck. I’d better get to it. Will you tell me what you can?”
“Sure thing, hon.” He handed me two twenty-dollar bills, more than double what his breakfast cost. “Here.”
“Buck, that’s way too much,” I protested, even though he did this all the time.
“Put it in the tip jar. All y’all earn it, and more.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, my friend. Good luck today.” I tucked the cash into my apron pocket and made my way to welcome the newcomers. As long as talk of murder didn’t spread, my bank account was going to be happy. Or maybe even if it did. Unlike last Christmas, neither my cooking nor products I sold could possibly be suspected in that poor woman’s death. I didn’t even live in Indiana ten years ago.
Chapter Six
“That was a busy morning,” I said to my employees at eleven-fifteen. We sat around a table eating our early lunch before the midday rush hit.
“Those tour ladies cracked me up,” Danna said after she swallowed her bite of the last piece of egg bake.
“Yeah, they’d heard about us all the way down in Georgia.” Turner laughed. “They were all ‘bless your heart’ this and ‘Lordy me’ that. And, man, could they ever eat.”
Danna laughed. “One was a little tiny thing, and she ate as much as Buck does.”
“Maybe they’ll come back every year,” I said. I swiped up the last bit of fried egg with the crust of my rye toast.
“Are we all set for the quesadillas?” Danna asked.
We’d decided to offer a dish I’d had in Santa Barbara last winter, a flour tortilla folded in half over cooked chicken, a smear of refried beans with mild green chilis, and cheese, then lightly fried. “I think so. People can choose to have them with or without chicken. I think they’ll go together fast, and we have plenty of sour cream to top them with, and salsa to offer on the side. The guacamole is ready, too.”
Turner snorted. “Hope the salsa is mild. Hoosiers don’t go much for hot peppers. I learned the hard way when I made lamb vindaloo for some high school buddies. Those dudes about died. Insisted we go on an ice cream run after to cool off their mouths. They downed a pint apiece.”
Turner’s father, Sajit Rao, was from India, and Turner had learned to prepare that cuisine from his Indian grandmother. He made a mild Indian potato dish for the restaurant as a breakfast special from time to time.
“The salsa is mild, don’t worry,” Danna said. “I was the one who put in that order.”
“Perfect.”
“Robbie, is it true they found a human skeleton in that house that burned last night?” Turner asked, hazel eyes wide.
“I’m afraid it’s true. And the guy who lives in the house claims he knows nothing about it.”
“Earlier you told me he’s a doctor,” Danna said. “What’s his name?”
“Buck said it’s William Geller. He’s an anesthesiologist at the hospital in Columbus.”
“That guy?” Turner’s mouth turned down.
“You know him?” I asked.
“He was a total fail when my mom had her knee operated on a few years ago. She’d chosen to be pretty much awake because it was only a meniscus repair. Geller hadn’t given her enough of the right kind of anesthesia and the surgeon’s instrument went beyond the numbed area. Mom’s leg jerked and it nearly ruined the procedure. She said later she’d never felt such a pain, not even giving birth to my sister and me.”
“Ick. That’s criminal,” Danna said. “I hope they put her under after that.”
“Yeah, immediately,” Turner said. “I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t let anyone I loved go within a hundred miles of the dude.”
Geller sounded incompetent. Maybe the truth was more nuanced than Turner’s story. “But he’s still practicing.” I carried my plate and fork to the sink.
“Apparently.” Turner shook his head and brought his plate over, too.
“Danna, you’ll fix the Specials board?” I asked. “I’m going to take a quick break.”
“You got it,” she said.
I could take a half hour off and they’d be fine, but all I needed was a quick pit stop. After I emerged from the restroom, I wanted to turn around and go back in. Detective Octavia Slade was seated at a two-top perusing a menu. I took a deep breath and mustered my inner adult.
“Welcome back to South Lick, Detective,” I said when I reached her table. “What can I get you?” I didn’t have an order pad and pen i
n my hands, so I clasped them in front of me to keep from fiddling nervously.
She glanced up. “Hello, Robbie.” She tilted her head. “You’re looking well.” A few more threads of silver streaked her dark cap of hair than had two years ago, but her face was still largely unlined and her eyes as inquisitive as ever behind dark-rimmed glasses.
“Thank you.” I wasn’t interested in small talk with her. “Our lunch special is a chicken or cheese quesadilla, if you’re interested.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I love quesadillas. I was in San Francisco recently and had a delicious Mexican lunch.”
“San Francisco is lovely.”
“Yes. I was on my honeym—” She bit off the word as her neck reddened.
My gaze dragged itself to her left hand, now bearing a gold band on the ring finger. So she and Jim were married. Awkward. “Congratulations. Would you like the chicken or the cheese?”
“I’m still a vegetarian, so the cheese, please.” She swallowed. “Listen, Robbie . . .” Her voice trailed off.
No. Just, no. I was so not getting into anything personal with her. The past was the past. “I’ll put that order in.” I headed for our cooking area. “A quesadilla for Detective Slade,” I told Turner at the grill. “Hold the chicken.”
“Got it. A detective, huh? She here for the body in the attic?”
“That’s what Buck told me this morning.” Turner hadn’t been working for me in the late fall and winter two years ago when Octavia had worked those murders.
Danna came out of the restroom, shot a glance at Octavia, and joined us in the kitchen area.
She scrunched up her nose and whispered, “Isn’t she the one who—” Danna, who had been with me since I opened the business, knew all about the Jim fiasco.
I held up a hand. “Yes. And now she’s here to investigate that skeleton.”
“What happened to our buddy Detective Thompson?” Danna asked.
“Buck says he’s working on a case in Evansville. Octavia is who we’ve got. She told me her lunch order but I didn’t ask what she wanted to drink. Can you take care of her, please?”
“I’m all over it, Robbie. Don’t worry.” Danna hustled to Octavia.
Turner raised a single eyebrow. “History with the lady?”
I bobbed my head once. “But it’s all good.” When the bell on the door jangled, it was a relief to see four hungry diners walk in, cheeks ruddy from the cold wind. Customers I’d never seen before. My life was almost perfect. I aimed to keep it that way and stay firmly in the present. I’d read about a meditation guru from the sixties who was all about “Be Here, Now.” That was going to be me, in spades.
Chapter Seven
“Bro!” A smile wider than Lake Lemon split Danna’s face after Marcus walked in a few minutes before one o’clock. Today he wore a kind of rounded skullcap. She hurried over to him.
I was on the grill and smiled, too, as I watched them embrace. My smile slid off when I realized I’d never gotten around to running a search on him last night, what with the fire and all. I shook off the nagging concern that Marcus might not be who he said he was. I flipped two meat patties and a chicken quesadilla, then laid on two turkey patties. We were having a busy lunch service. Customers kept coming in that door, and the word “skeleton” resurfaced in conversations over and over.
I hadn’t interacted with Octavia again, who’d consumed her lunch while working on a tablet. She’d paid and left. Would she come in to eat again while she was in town? I didn’t care. At least she’d had the decency to realize her faux pas when she started to mention her honeymoon.
Turner arrived with both arms full of dirty dishes, which he rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.
“Can you take over the grill?” I asked.
“Of course. Hey, who’s the dude with Danna?” He tilted his head in their direction.
Should I let Danna tell him? We didn’t really have time for that right now. She wouldn’t mind. “He came in yesterday saying he’s her half brother. Apparently Corrine gave him up for adoption before she married and had Danna.”
His eyes went wide. “Whoa! She looks super glad to see him. That’s cool.”
“She is.”
“She didn’t know about him before?”
“Nope.” I still had that nagging worry about if Marcus was who he said he was, but I couldn’t address it now. “I’ll deliver Adele and Samuel’s lunch.” I brought him up to speed on the rest of the orders before grabbing the two quesadilla plates I’d topped with a dollop of sour cream and a scoop of guacamole. I set them down in front of my aunt and her octogenarian beau. “Lunch, straight from Santa Barbara.” I smiled at both of them.
“Thanks, Robbie,” Samuel said. “You’re a peach.” “The little cups have mild salsa to put on top,” I added.
Adele studied her plate. “Got any hot sauce?”
“Sure.” I tilted my head. “I didn’t realize you liked spicy food.”
My no-nonsense aunt scoffed and tossed back her pageboy-cut hair, which was the color of the slate roofing shingles on the century-old South Lick Library. “All the work we’ve done in India, we’ve both come to right enjoy some spice in our lives, haven’t we, Samuel?”
He blushed right through his dark skin. “Indeed we have. Robbie, she’s talking about hot peppers, you know.”
“Of course.” I swallowed a laugh. I knew these senior citizens were intimate, but I didn’t need any more detail than that. “Let me get the hot sauce.”
When I returned, Adele beckoned for me to lean down. “Who’s that fella Danna’s all starry-eyed about?” she whispered, pointing at Danna. “She dump Isaac for him?”
I glanced at the table where Danna sat across from Marcus. She did look a little like she was crushing on him. “No, that’s actually her half brother. He showed up yesterday and introduced himself.”
“You don’t say.” Adele nodded knowingly. “The baby Corrine had.”
“You knew about him?” I asked.
“Well, sure. Nothing I don’t know about this town, hon. I’m not aware of the particulars, don’t you know, but Corrine was clearly pregnant at one point. She’d been hanging around with a black jazz musician in Nashville. By the looks of this young’un, I’d guess he was the daddy.”
I looked at Marcus again. An African-American father would explain his nearly kinky hair and the light coffee tint to his skin.
Samuel tilted his head. “I remember that cat. Died in a plane crash twenty-odd years ago.”
“Corrine disappeared for some months and did not return with an infant,” Adele went on. “She musta went off to an aunt or somewheres, had the baby, and gave it up for adoption.”
“When she came back from being away,” Samuel said, “everybody gave her space, and next thing we knew she married that good-for-nothing Beedle.”
“Danna’s father,” I said.
“Yep,” Adele said. “He was meaner to poor Corrine than a hungry fisher cat in March. Upped and got himself killed in a hunting accident when Danna was only a small little thing.”
When I’d first opened my store, I’d heard gossip that maybe Corrine had engineered the fatal accident, but the story had never gone further than that.
“His death turned out to be a blessing to both Corrine and Danna,” she added.
“May his soul rest in peace,” Samuel, a devout Christian, added.
“Anyway, Danna is delighted to have a sibling, at last, and a big brother, to boot,” I said as Turner hit the Ready bell. “Enjoy your lunches.” On my way to the grill, I stopped by where Danna and Marcus were talking.
“Welcome back, Marcus.” I smiled. “Danna, sorry, but I’m afraid we need you to bus tables.”
She stood. “I know. We’re going to hang out after we close today.”
“You go work, Sis,” Marcus said.
“I’ll be right back to get your order,” I told him.
“Thanks.”
By the time I’d delivered the o
rders that were ready and made change for two satisfied diners, a woman had joined Marcus at his table. Looking to be in her late forties, she was about my height and had a trim figure, with professionally dyed and streaked shoulder-length hair the color of chestnuts. I wasn’t sure I’d seen her before, but then a lot of customers came through my place every day. If she was local, she might have eaten here.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Robbie Jordan and the proprietor.”
When she smiled at me, her lip caught on one prominent eyetooth. “Nice to meet you, Robbie. I’ve actually been in a couple of times since you opened. Great food, great atmosphere you’ve got here.”
“Thanks. Sorry I didn’t remember you.”
“No worries. I’m Beltonia Franklin, but please call me Toni.”
I blinked. Buck had talked about Beltonia this morning. Toni, whose dead sister Tina might well be the skeleton in the attic. I mustered a smile. “Welcome back, then. I gather you know Marcus?”
“We’re in the same karate dojo.” He drummed long fingers on the table and didn’t smile.
“He’s quite good,” Toni added.
He blinked. “I’m not, actually. I’m still a white belt.”
Toni ignored his protest and went on. “I was going to grab a bite to eat, but when I saw Marcus here, I asked if I could join him.”
Marcus looked away, as if he wasn’t particularly happy about dining with her.
“What can I get you both?” I asked. I took their orders and headed for the grill. Was there a way I could steer conversation to Toni’s twin’s disappearance? I had a few minutes to figure it out.
In the kitchen area, Danna was rinsing plates. “Who’s sitting with Marcus?” she asked me in a murmur.
I stuck the order on the carousel for Turner. “Somebody he studies karate with. Do you know her? Her name is Toni Franklin.”
Her eyes flew wide. “The twin of the lady who disappeared when I was like eleven.”