A Side Order of Deception

by Constance Barker

  “It stinks. And the point is rather squared off on the end. She must have a big foot.”

  “I’m putting this whole area off limits.”

  He got on his walkie-talkie and told the dispatcher to have it locked up and get CSI down here as soon as possible.

  “Lunch?” he asked, as we exited to the lobby.

  “I have earned it, I guess,” I said. “Is it on the county expense account, since I was called in as a consultant?”

  “No, because you would want to go to the Hideaway at the country club. But it’s on me.”

  “Good enough – but were still going to the Hideaway.”

  “How about Rocco’s Italiano?”

  “Sold!” I had never heard of it, but hey – it’s Italian!

  “After you, m’lady.” He motioned toward the front door.

  A man from a service company was just about to roll up the rug inside the front door and replace it with a clean one.

  “Stop!” I said to the man.

  He looked at me like I was crazy, but when he saw the Sheriff he decided to comply with my request.

  “Look, Brody,” I said pointing to the mat. “There’s that same greenish mud there on the door mat. It’s not raining, so...”

  “Maybe when Sylvia came in with the construction guy on Saturday...”

  “Dimitri.”

  “Yeah, him. They were at the fair.”

  “Maybe, but they didn’t go into the Register of Deeds area.”

  “When is the last time you changed the mat?” Brody asked the man.

  “Mondays and Thursdays,” he said.

  “We’re going to need to keep this,” Brody told him. He put it inside the office area we just left and then returned.

  “Can you sign that you didn’t return the mat, Sheriff?”

  “Of course.”

  Brody opened the door for me and then paused to answer his walkie-talkie. I leaned on the edge of the open door as I waited for a moment.

  “Let’s go!” he said.

  I took a step away from the door, but the hem of my blouse stuck to it.

  “Whoa!” I said.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, but...” I turned around and looked at the edge of the door. “It’s sticky here, around where the little latch thing sticks out.”

  Brody came back to take a close look. “Like someone stuck something over it to keep it from latching...”

  “So they could sneak in and start a fire!”

  “Maybe.”

  He called the dispatcher again, and we had to wait for someone to come and secure the potential evidence. Brody looked at it very closely as we waited.

  “That adhesive has a smell that’s very familiar, but I just can’t place it.”

  It only took a minute for one of his deputies to get to the front door, and then we left.

  “Let’s take your car. It’s not really county business,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  Ha! I thought, as we hopped into my car. Maggie was wrong!

  “Yeowtch!” Brody hollered as he closed the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He was holding his hand out, and one fingertip was bleeding.

  “I caught my finger on this loose piece of chrome trim. Just little cut, but I better run in and get a Band-Aid.”

  I exhaled in disbelief. “No need,” I said, “I have one here in my purse. Here, put a little pressure on it with this tissue.”

  I opened the bandage and wrapped it around his fingertip.

  “Thanks, Merse. Women think of everything.”

  “Yeah, we have a way of knowing what’s going to happen.”

  He scratched his nose and then grimaced. “Say, Mercy...”

  “Yes?”

  He sniffed his bandaged fingertip. “I think I know what that adhesive on the door smelled like.”

  “Interesting. I guess a Band-Aid would be a good device to keep a door from latching.”

  “Yeah, and they tend to leave a lot of gummy residue behind. I’ll have them test for that.”

  He picked up his walkie-talkie again and spoke to his people for a minute.

  “So, where is this Rocco’s place? Is it new? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

  “Yep, brand new. A big hotel chef from Lexington retired and moved here to Calhoun. I guess he wanted to relax with a little small-town place. I’ve heard good things. Just turn left at Jefferson – that’s the stop light – and you’ll see it on your left.”

  The restaurant was in the old Lincoln Hotel downtown, which was now the Plimpton Building. It was converted to a multi-use facility when racehorse mogul, Boregard Plimpton, bought it seven or eight years ago. There were upscale retail shops and a bank on the first floor, office space on the second floor, and luxury condos on the third floor. In the premier spot on the corner was Rocco’s Italiano.

  I was expecting red-and-white checkered tablecloths with accordion music playing in the background, but it was posh and elegant. There were people waiting, but the Maitre D’ waved us to the front, no doubt because of the big Sheriff’s hat. He led us through a marble archway, supported by marble columns with hand-carved cherubs greeting us on each side. The dining room had greenery and crystal chandeliers hanging from the golden ceiling. The tuxedoed man led us to one of the very private booths with a white linen tablecloth as Vivaldi’s Water Music played gently in the background.

  “Nice place, Brody! You must really like me!” I said with a big smile as I got comfortable in the lush booth and opened my leather-clad menu with fine parchment pages.

  He set his hat next to him on his side of the booth as he looked around the five-star restaurant. He nodded and looked a little pale. “I was expecting to order a pizza slice from a wall menu over the counter next to an organ grinder and his money.”

  I laughed as I looked at the very pricey menu. “I guess it’s your first time here. Don’t worry – we’ll share a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, like Lady and the Tramp.”

  That seemed to relax him. I closed the menu and laid it on the table, and he put his hand on top of mine. I thought about my Tramp at home and wondered how he was doing. “I’ll treat you to dinner here after you help me solve this case, Watson,” I said to him.

  He smiled. “As long as Sherlock is paying, you can be Sherlock anytime, Mercy.”

  “How about, whoever solves the case first gets to be Sherlock?”

  “So the winner pays?”

  I hadn’t thought that through. “Sure. I guess it’s worth a hundred bucks to be Sherlock.”

  “A hundred bucks? It’s not that expensive here.”

  “We’ll need a good bottle of wine to celebrate.”

  He nodded, but had a suspicious look on his face. “Okay, it’s a deal. But I think you know something you’re not telling me.”

  “Nope.”

  The waiter came to the table, and I ordered:

  “Condividermo un piatto degli spaghetti e delle polpette, per favore.”

  He nodded.

  “E due dieta Coca-Cola,” I added.

  I smiled smugly at my lawman as the waiter went to put in our order.

  “You are full of surprises, Mercy Howard.”

  “Si, signore!” And I’m pretty quick with Google Translate on my phone too.

  Chapter Eight

  I drove into my driveway, eager to see my dog, Tramp. Instead, I saw my neighbor, Ruby, sitting on my steps crying. She was wearing a nice dress, as always, and ran over to me as I got out of the car. I hugged her, very concerned for my friend.

  “Ruby, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  Her mascara was running and one eyelash was coming loose as she blew her nose. She tried to talk, like a sobbing child, sucking in air between every syllable.

  “Well, I...I got home from sch...school a little early, and I let Goldie out to run so I could relax with a cup of tea before I walked her...”

  “Oh, no. She wasn’t hit by a car
was she, sweetheart?”

  She shook her head. “Worse, Mercy.”

  I walked her over to the steps, and we sat down while she finished her story. I was afraid to hear what was coming next.

  “Well, I came outside and called her, and she barked. I looked over to your lawn and that...that...that stray animal from the restaurant was having his way with her...with my Goldie. He was on top of her, just going to town.”

  I was relieved that Goldie was okay but not sure what to think about my horny boy.

  “I’m sure she gave her consent, Ruby,” I said with my tongue in my cheek.

  Ruby glared back. “She’s an AKC purebred, Mercy. She has papers.”

  I rubbed her back as she put her face in her hands.

  “Tramp goes on papers.” I shouldn’t have said that.

  “It’s not funny, Mercy. She just went into heat. I bet she's pregnant.”

  Well, then, she probably came on to him. At least, I just said that in my head. “Maybe Tramp has been...”

  “No. I checked. He has all of his original equipment. This is terrible.”

  She lost control again, and hugged me, sobbing loudly.

  The two dogs came out from her backyard now and onto Ruby’s front lawn. Tramp sat and Goldie sniffed and then nudged him. Then she stood in front of him...but not facing him. Tramp understood what she wanted.

  “Tramp!” I hollered.

  “Oh, let them go, Mercy. It’s too late now.”

  “You don't know that Ruby. Here, let me make you some tea. Come in.”

  She sat at the counter while I put on a kettle of water. She was starting to become human again.

  “I'm sorry Mercy. Stupid of me to get all in a lather, but I get so upset when I see so many dogs at the pound who want homes. Then here I am not being responsible for my girl when she's in heat. I need to just get her fixed.”

  I sat down next to her. “I understand Ruby. I think that's why I my heart went out to Tramp b/c he was all alone...kind of like the doggies at the pound. I can't get him fixed until I know he's mine. But it will all work out. If Goldie is pregnant, we will make sure her pups get a good home or we'll raise them ourselves. From now on we'll be responsible dog parents.”

  The teapot whistled. I got up to get the hot water, and Ruby put a teabag in each of our cups.

  “Honey or sugar with your tea, Ruby?”

  “Mmm, honey please.”

  “Me too!”

  The dogs were just playing leisurely outside the window now, recovering from their aerobic exercises.

  “Speaking of dogs in heat, did you get together with Justin last night?”

  She slapped my arm. “You are terrible, Mercy Howard. He stopped over, but just for a glass of wine.”

  I wanted to ask about kissing, but I had pushed the boundaries already, and Ruby had been through enough. Then Ruby reached into her bra and pulled out two pieces of candy.

  “Ruby – you’re 28 years old, and you’re already using your bra as a purse?”

  “I didn’t bring a purse to school today – and I have a lot of extra room in there.” She pushed a mint over to me and kept one for herself. “They’re buttermints. Justin was at the rodeo yesterday to judge the kids’ sheep-riding contest. He stole these from Harry Drench’s locker for me.”

  “Ooh! Superstar cowboy mints! Thank you. Good thing Harry wasn’t there yesterday.”

  “Oh, he was in early, looking at the bulls, checking out their personalities.”

  “That’s smart. The original Bluegrass Buckaroo always tried to make friends with them so they wouldn’t be too hard on him, but they still broke his bones once in a while.”

  “Yikes. Well, Drench took a whole handful of these out of his pocket and left them on the shelf in his locker. He left the door unlocked while he was with the animals, so Justin wrangled a few for his lady.” She smiled haughtily as she popped one in her mouth.

  “Is wrangled the new word for stole?”

  “It’s benevolent cowboy stealing, Mercy.”

  “Ah...like: I think I’ll benevolently wrangle a few of those horses from that corral over there.”

  “No. That would be stealing. They hang horse thieves.”

  I took the little candy wrapped in clear cellophane in both hands to tear it open. But then I stopped and looked at it. “Hmm.”

  “What? Is there something wrong with it?” Ruby was getting ready to eject the candy from her mouth, but I stopped her.

  “No. No, the candy is fine, Ruby.”

  My purse was on the arm of the sofa, and I put it on my lap. I reached in, pulled out one of the mints from Register of Deeds office, and held it side by side with the one from Harry Drench, one in each hand.

  “Did Justin give that to you, Mercy?”

  I shook my head as my mind rolled through the possible explanations. “This came from the candy jar at the courthouse, where the fire was, Ruby.”

  “Huh. Well, I suppose mints like this are pretty common.”

  I wasn’t convinced. There were two blue stripes down the middle of each mint packet. I looked closely and could see that there was writing on them. “Can you read this, Rube? It’s too small for me.”

  She took it and read. “The top line says McClean County, and the second one says Works for you! Do you think these came from the courthouse?”

  I nodded. “We were at the rodeo on Saturday, and the fire at the courthouse was Saturday evening.”

  “And Harry Drench put the mints in his locker on Sunday morning. But, he’s a cowboy from out of town. Why would he want to burn up all the deeds for properties around here?”

  “I don’t know. Unless...” I texted Brody. This felt like it was really important. “Ruby, what does the toe of a cowboy boot look like?”

  “You know, Mercy. Most of them are pointy.”

  “Right, but not like a woman’s shoe. They’re flat on the end.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “And what does the dirt look like there? At the rodeo?”

  “When I went out on the rodeo grounds to talk to Justin, it was muddy. It was all the color of horse hockey. I almost stepped in some, but Justin pulled me away.”

  “Horse hockey?”

  “Didn’t you ever watch M*A*S*H? I don’t like those other words – they’re icky. But you know what I mean, Mercy.”

  Pretty city girls! “Yes, they are icky, Rube. Why don’t you come to the diner with me for a while? I’ll buy dinner. Zack is making ham and scalloped potatoes, but we have fresh green beans and steamed broccoli and cauliflower too. I’ll put Tramp in the backyard and close the gate.”

  “I don’t really want to be alone right now, and I don’t feel like cooking, so that would be nice.”

  “Okay! I’ll drive. Do you have a bowl of kibble I can give Tramp? I haven’t gotten to the store yet.”

  “Of course. I’ll get it – but I’m not saying that this doggie love affair is going to keep going on. We’ll have to wait and see if it’s just a fling or true love. Goldie’s not that kind of girl.”

  “Right. I'll be getting Tramp fixed soon....well, after I find out if he has family searching for him.”

  Chapter Nine

  The diner was buzzing when we walked in. People were gathered around the afternoon edition of the Calhoun Gazette at the counter and at several of the booths. They were in a spirited and animated discussion about something that seemed to be important. Ruby and I looked at each other.

  “Mercy!” Babs hollered to me from behind the counter. I don’t think I’d ever seen her back there, except maybe to grab a plate from the window when Deloris was away. “Come over here! You have to see this!”

  Ruby followed me around the counter, and Babs turned Red’s newspaper to face us. I looked at the bold headline, which ran across the top of the entire front page:

  Drench May Own Paint Creek!

  “Looks like that rodeo cowboy might be your new landlord, Mercy,” Red said with a more serious tone than
usual. “The whole town might be paying him rent.”

  I slid the paper closer to Ruby, and she started to read the story out loud:

  “Harry Drench of rodeo fame filed papers in District Court today claiming ownership of the entire town of Paint Creek in McClean County. This followed our exclusive report yesterday revealing the existence of a Deed of Ownership passed from the town’s founder to an ancestor of the Drench family in 1899.”

  Ruby looked at me with wide eyes.

  “Keep reading, Ruby,” Babs told her.

  “Asked for a comment, Drench said, ‘If my granddaddy’s granddaddy bought this land fair and square, like the deed in the paper shows, then I’m the legitimate owner, and so are my brothers and cousins. We’re asking the court to give us what is rightfully ours, that’s all.’ Sunday’s fire, which destroyed the entire archive of deeds prior to 1970, will make it difficult for current landowners to prove that all of the purchases and sales of land to and from previous owners was properly transferred from the Drench family. Drench claims that his father and grandfather have always claimed that their family was swindled out of the land. He says he will be asking all current deed-holders to pay him fair market value or relinquish their claim to the property.”

  “This sounds very serious, Mercy,” Ruby said. “I just put all my money into a down payment for my house, and I’ll be paying the bank for 30 years. I can’t afford to pay for it twice, so I might lose everything.”

  There were a lot of blank, worried faces in the diner. “No, you won’t, Ruby. Mr. Rodeo Cowboy doesn’t know who he’s messing with. The only swindler around here is Mr. Harry Drench.”

  Brody came in, and I sat down with Ruby and him in a booth. I showed him the newspaper headline and he nodded. “Yeah, I read it.”

  “Did you get my text, Brody?” I asked him

  “I did.”

  “Babs – would you bring Ruby a ham dinner with steamed veggies, please? No potatoes.”

  “What about me?” Brody asked.

  “What about you? We just had spaghetti and meatballs a few hours ago.”