by Sam Cheever
I skimmed my glance over the customers in the diner and was happy to see that several of them were either done eating or already had their desserts.
There was only one man I could see who might represent a problem. And I could deal with him.
I headed to the counter and dropped into an oft-taped red vinyl stool that spun around at the slightest movement. I planted my feet on the brass bar running along the bottom of the counter to stabilize myself and waved at the waitress. Verna Bly was down the long counter, waiting on an extremely large man sitting in the last stool.
My competition.
Verna gave me a weary smile and lifted a finger in the universal sign for “don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll be there in a minute”. Hal slipped into the stool next to mine. “You always sit at the counter?”
My gaze slid over the bulgy form of the beflanneled farmer giving Verna his order. He shoved at a greasy John Deere hat and scratched the sweat-drenched dark hair underneath. His bulging brown eyes skimmed down the counter and locked onto mine.
He gave me a slow, mean smile.
Verna slid a bored glance my way, a pencil poised over her much-abused order pad. She popped her chewing gum and rolled faded blue eyes, cocking a hip against the counter to wait out the fireworks.
I tightened my lips, giving Bobo Biddens an all-knowing head bob.
His fleshy lips parted, showing a pair of over-sharp canines that looked like they needed a good scrubbing with bleach.
A grinding sound emerged from my jaw.
“Um, Joey?” Hal seemed determined to pull my attention away from my nemesis but I wasn’t going to let him. Bobo and I had locked in and we were ready to rumble.
It was on.
I ignored Hal and shook my head once, my gaze turning hard.
Bobo opened his mouth and I saw what he was going to do. He was going to ask for that pie.
“Verna?” I yelled. “Is that your car being towed outside?”
The waitress frowned, running to the front window, her orthopedic shoes slapping against the linoleum.
Seeing his advantage slide away, Bobo showed his teeth in a silent growl. His meaty paw found the counter and the sausage fingers went white as he put weight on it, clearly intending to rise from his stool.
I let my feet slide to the floor, pressing weight into my toes.
I had speed on my side. Bobo had size. If he managed to get to the pie before I did, I would lose.
But I had no intention of letting him get there first.
“Joey, what do you want to eat?” Hal tried again.
I ignored his question.
Lifting my butt from the stool, I slid one hand open on the counter in preparation for shoving off.
A cool breeze wafted over me and something moved in my peripheral vision. A dish clattered to the counter and Hal said something that sounded like “thank you”.
Bobo looked murderous. He shoved to his feet so quickly the stool spun wildly behind him.
Looking into his rage-filled eyes, I had a terrible premonition.
No! It couldn’t be!
I turned to find Hal shoving a bite of banana cream pie into his face, his expression turning to one of pure rapture. “Mm. This is really good.”
I sighed and looked up as a woman with a ratty tangle of yellow-white hair piled on top of her head asked, “What can I get you, honey?”
Max...
I sighed. “I don’t suppose you have another slice of that pie hidden in the back?”
“Sorry, Joey. You know it doesn’t last very long.”
“Yeah.” I scoured Hal a hate-filled look. “I do know that.”
I PICKED AT MY SALAD, my pout firmly in place as Hal followed up the pie I’d wanted with a fat, juicy burger and crispy fries.
I’d ordered the salad in a fit of temper, thinking I’d punish him by making myself miserable. Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to me until I’d started eating the dang thing that the only one I’d made miserable was me.
Hal clearly assumed I’d wanted to eat a salad. It was no skin off his Greek nose if I ate like a rabbit while he embraced the role of banana cream pie eating carnivore. “Who was that guy you were glaring at down there?”
“Bobo Biddens.”
Hal snorted out a laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I chewed a piece of cucumber and shook my head. “His real name’s Pete but everybody calls him Bobo because his last name sounds like Baggins and he generally eats two breakfasts.”
Hal grinned around his glass of water. “Elevenses?”
I couldn’t help grinning back. “There’s a rumor his feet have more hair on them than most people have on their heads.”
Hal barked out a laugh and I felt my bad humor oozing away.
“I heard about what happened out at your place,” Max said. She slid a small bowl of something creamy and pale yellow in front of me. It had soggy golden chunks of cookie in it and a big dollop of whipped cream on top. I grinned. “Banana pudding?”
She held a finger up in front of her lips. “I had a bit of filling left over.” She winked and handed me a spoon. “Does Arno know who was killed yet?”
I shook my head and swallowed my first, delicious bite of pudding. “I wouldn’t know since he won’t tell me anything.”
“Yeah, he can be a bit of a prig.”
“Arno Willager, our favorite villager?” I asked, feigning surprise.
Max snorted. She leaned her elbows on the counter and spoke in lowered tones. “Rumor is it was a Mitzner chipper?”
I nodded, chewing a thick slice of banana.
“Do you think that’s significant?” Hal asked.
She shrugged. “Could be, handsome. Depends who’s askin’.”
I swallowed. “Sorry. Max, this is my private investigator, Hal Amity.”
“PI? Seriously?” The older woman tugged an over-bleached curl from behind her ear and gave him a flirty smile. “You definitely aren’t from around here. Indy?”
“Yes, ma’am. My brother and I have an office on the South West side.”
She nodded. “Well, since you’re helpin’ Joey, I’ll tell ya that Buck Mitzner never reported that chipper stolen until after Arno called to ask him about it.”
I frowned. Arno had implied that Buck reported it. Still, I didn’t want to accuse him of things I couldn’t back up. “Really? I got the impression Arno knew about the theft.”
Max stared at me a moment as if trying to decide if she was going to let me in on a secret. But after a few seconds she simply shrugged. “Maybe I heard wrong.”
“Nobody in town’s been reported missing?” Hal asked.
His instincts were good. Sonny’s was the heartbeat of Deer Hollow. If anything was going on in the area, Max usually knew at least something about it. But she shook her head. “Not in town, no. But most of the population lives outside Deer Hollow. We have a large number of farmers around here.”
“And a few artist types,” I added. Dropping my spoon into my empty bowl, I rubbed my napkin over my lips.
“Artist types?” Hal asked. “You mean like painters?”
“A couple people who paint. One sculptor. And I think we have two writers too,” I told him. “A couple are kind of famous.”
He thought about that for a moment. “That seems like a lot of artist types for one rural area.”
It was my turn to shrug. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen the area. It’s beautiful around here pretty much year-round.”
Max nodded enthusiastic agreement.
“I get the impression you don’t completely trust Sheriff Willager,” Hal said to Max.
She shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust him. I’ve known that boy since he was a baby. I changed his diapers for gosh sakes. He’s a good person and a decent cop. But he tends to get caught up in loyalties and he don’t see that people have a dark side.”
I frowned. She was right. But I wasn’t comfortable seeing that dar
k side myself. “I guess that’s a side effect of living somewhere all your life. Knowing everybody.”
Max patted my hand. “Good luck, honey. I have a feeling with this one’s help you’re gonna find your killer.”
MITZNER’S LANDSCAPING was the largest greenhouse and landscaping store and service within sixty miles of Deer Hollow. Buck Mitzner ruled the business with an iron and acerbic hand, running through employees like poop through a goose. But despite his harsh manner with his people, he knew more about the business than anyone else, even as far as Indianapolis, and he drew business from all around the state.
Plus, he was one of the biggest employers in Southern Indiana, which made his tendency to run off the faint of heart little more than a nuisance. The turnover was mostly a problem for his office manager, Cindy Pickett. Buck just broke ’em, he didn’t fix ’em. But Cindy, who attended the same gym I did several times a week, confided in me once that she’d gotten good at creating employment queues, basically hiring the next employee about a week after the first one started, knowing that, by the time they got through the paperwork and pre-employment testing, the first one would be haring it toward the door with tears of rage making tracks down their cheeks.
Heck of a way to do business.
I climbed out of Hal’s government-type SUV and stood looking around. It occurred to me that I should probably stop procrastinating on replacing the dead bushes around my house. I’d been meaning to do it for months, but somehow I’d never worked up any enthusiasm for the task.
Maybe it was time to start that process. Or at least, begin a conversation about it with the man striding quickly in my direction.
I skimmed Hal a quick glance. “Let me do the talking.”
He frowned slightly. I took that as agreement because I wanted to.
Pasting a smile on my face, I approached the tall, gray-haired black man with an outstretched hand.
“Miss Joey. How are you, child?”
My smile might have started out fake, but it quickly grew genuine as my hand was enveloped in Marcus Callum’s big, warm grip. I could feel the callouses on his palms as he clasped my hand, and pleasure filled me in a warm rush as he beamed down at me. His brown gaze was filled with genuine affection. “I’m good, Marcus. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in church lately.” Truth was, I hadn’t been in church lately either. I was just tweaking him a little.
He winked at me. “With all my sinnin’ and wild ways, the Lord like ta pull that building down around my big ears if I step through that door, child. You know that.”
I twisted my lips against a grin. “You’re terrible. And I happen to know you’d be more likely to see sainthood than lightening bolts if you went to services.”
He laughed. “Child, you been drinkin’ your bath water again?”
I felt Hal stiffen as I chuckled. “I told you, bath salts are a drug, not the real thing.”
“That’s good. ’Cause I’m mighty partial to some Epsom in my tub. I’d hate ta think if I slipped and swallowed a bit I’d start eatin’ people’s faces.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “How’s Mary?”
“Sour as a lemon and pretty as a rose.”
“So...normal?” I said with a grin.
He chuckled. “What can I help y’all with today? You finally gonna replace them dead bushes up by your house?”
“I am, actually. I’d love your help with that. But there’s something else...”
Marcus’s face folded into a frown. “I heard about the murder.” He reached out and touched my arm. “That didn’t have nothin’ ta do with you, did it?”
“I don’t think so,” I told him, biting my lip. “But you can understand how I’d be a little nervous, since it was on my property.”
“Of course.” Crossing his arms, Marcus leaned back against a pretty arbor with fat purple clematis blossoms climbing thickly over its frame. “I’m sure somebody just picked an out-of-the-way spot and it had nothin’ ta do with you, Miss Joey.”
“Maybe...”
“We won’t know that for sure until the body’s identified,” Hal put in.
Marcus turned to Hal, his face creasing in a tense smile. “And who is this fine gentleman?”
“This is Hal Amity. He’s helping me figure out what’s going on.”
Marcus’s smile gained another level of tense. “You a cop?”
“No, sir,” Hal answered respectfully. “I’m a private investigator.”
“He’s the brother of Felicity’s friend, Cal.”
Understanding lit Marcus’ gaze. “Ah. How is your pretty cousin these days?”
“She’s great. She sounds really happy.”
“She ever find that daddy of hers?”
I gave him a secretive smile. “Of course not, Marcus. If she had, she would have told the government where he was.” I winked and he chuckled darkly.
“Course she would. Well, any friend of Joey’s and Felicity’s is a friend of mine.” He offered Hal his hand. “Welcome ta Deer Hollow.”
Hal shook his hand, grimacing a bit as Marcus no doubt gave him a warning squeeze. I had no idea how old Marcus was, but he’d been a fixture in Deer Hollow for as long as I could remember so I knew he was up there in years. Still, he seemed sturdy and was only slightly stooped around the shoulders. I suspected he was strong enough to take care of business when it was required.
“The police said the chipper used in the murder came from Mitzner’s.” Hal told the other man.
Marcus flinched as if struck. “You don’t say?”
“It’s true,” I told him. “Buck reported it stolen. Do you know when it was taken from the lot?”
Marcus narrowed his gaze at me and then swung it to Hal. “Stolen? First I heard of it.” He shook his head. “But don’t read nothin’ into that. Buck don’t tell me anything.”
I could believe that. I’d seen the two men together and it was clear they didn’t get along. Marcus had proclaimed once that he was too stubborn to let Buck’s nasty nature run him off a good job...one he loved...and Buck often looked at his employee like he was peeved he couldn’t scare him away.
“Can we see where the chippers are kept?” Hal asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Sorry, son. But we don’t have any right now. We had three but one’s on loan to the Johnston’s out off Baileyville Road. The other’s in the shop. Broken blades or some such.”
“And the third one’s with the police,” Hal said.
Marcus nodded. “Yeah. I guess so. I figured Buck had rented it out to somebody.”
“How do you know which is which?” I asked.
“They’re all numbered,” Marcus responded. “When we rent one out we write the number on the paperwork so we can keep track.”
“That makes sense,” I told him with a smile.
“Horrible way to go,” Marcus murmured, almost to himself.
“It is,” I agreed.
“Is Mr. Mitzner here?” Hal asked.
Marcus’ gaze shot to the PI, filled with surprise. “Yeah. He is. But he’s leavin’ soon. He’s got to go talk to the Reverend about replacin’ those hydrangea bushes around the front of the church.”
Hal offered Marcus his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
The other man clasped it and almost immediately winced as Hal, no doubt, returned the favor.
I grinned behind my hand.
“I’m not sure I helped but, you’re welcome,” Marcus responded. “I don’t want to see Miss Joey get hurt.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, sir,” Hal promised.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I was feeling a little tingly over that promise as I headed for Mitzner’s Store.
CHAPTER FIVE
Buck Mitzner was helping a customer when we entered the building. A bell jangled brightly overhead and Buck looked up from the receipt he was hand writing and glowered at us. I skimmed Hal a look and he gave me back cop face.
The woman Buck handed the receipt to thanked him
cheerily and turned, blinking in surprise when she saw me. “Joey Fulle! How are you?” She grabbed me up and pulled me into a hug.
To my eternal shame, I hadn’t seen the woman for almost two years. Not since before my parents were killed. She was the mother of my best friend from high school. “Hi, Mrs. Villa. How’s Lis doing? I haven’t seen her for months.”
“She’s just fine dear. She’s loving Indianapolis. But she’ll be home in a couple of days for a visit. You should drop over and see her.”
“I’ll try to do that,” I said, non-committal. She reached out and clasped my hand, her smile turning down. “I heard what happened. Are all right? Do you need a place to stay?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. Really. But thanks so much for asking.”
Mrs. Villa nodded, her dark blue gaze sliding to Hal and filling with speculation. She gave him a bright smile, offering him her hand. “Hello. I’m Nancy Villa.”
Hal took the hand and shook it, returning her smile. “Hal Amity. It’s nice to meet you.”
I could tell Mrs. Villa was very curious about Hal, but Buck was moving around behind the counter as if he was getting ready to bug out and we needed to talk to him before he left. “Tell Lis I’ll call her, okay?”
“I will. You take care now, honey.”
I headed toward the counter, Hal dropping into my wake.
Buck looked up and frowned as I approached the counter. He was generally a surly person, but he seemed even more unhappy to see me than usual. “Hey, Buck.”
He didn’t respond. Instead he skimmed a look at Hal. “I told the police everything there is to know.”
Hal pushed past me, offering Buck his hand. “Mr. Mitzner. I’m Hal Amity. I’m here at the behest of Miss Fulle’s cousin. The family believes she needs protection.”
Buck’s frown deepened and his face folded into a scowl.
I fought a grin. In one smooth statement Hal had reminded Buck that he wasn’t the only one affected by the murder. “We just wanted to ask about the chipper, Buck. When was it stolen?”
He shoved a stack of receipts under the tray in the old-fashioned cash register and slammed it closed. “Like I told Arno, it was a few days ago.”
“Was the chipper on the lot when it was taken?” Hal asked the owner.