Grilled, Chilled and Killed

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “Mom, you in here?” A voice called from outside.

  “Oh, damn. I forgot Naomi was meeting me here. Don’t tell her what happened.”

  “Mom! What are you doing?” asked Naomi. Blond like her mother, but taller, the young woman rushed forward to throw her arms around Emily.

  “I’m taking a shower?” Emily gave Naomi a goofy grin.

  “She did it again.” Clara threw the used towels into the trash.

  “Offended one of the customers at the club?” asked Naomi.

  “Found another dead body.”

  Naomi looked only mildly put off by the information. “Someone you know, Mom?”

  “Someone no one seems to know.” Emily turned on the hand dryer and stuck her head under it. When the dryer turned off, she stepped to the mirror. “Yikes! Anyone have a comb?”

  “Ladies, I hear you in there. No more hiding. Come out here, Emily. Our conversation isn’t over yet.”

  “It’s your detective, Emily.” Clara laughed and punched her friend in the arm. Despite his attempts to keep his feelings under control, all of Emily’s friends knew Lewis had a thing for her. Even Donald knew that. And didn’t like it.

  “I thought Mom was more enamored with the other guy. That tall, skinny, silver-haired one with no sense of humor and the need to fish the lake dry. You mean she and Detective Lewis are an item? Hoowee. I like that.”

  Emily turned from the mirror and entered one of the stalls., slamming the door and muttering under her breath.

  “What’s she so worked up about?” asked Naomi.

  “I did just find a dead body, you know.” Emily spoke from behind the stall door. “And stop talking as if I’m not here.”

  A tall, well-proportioned Nordic-looking woman entered the bathroom. It was Vicki, Emily’s next-door-neighbor. “I was sent in here by that hunky detective to roust you, Emily. Emily? Where are you?”

  “Good lord, everyone I know in this town is here. It’s like a quilting bee. This is not a social occasion, you know. I dragged a dead man out of a cooler. It’s not fun work.”

  “No one was there to help you?” asked Vicki. “Was he a big guy?”

  Emily slammed open the stall door. “I’m getting out of here.”

  “Oh, good. The detective is waiting for you.” Vicki accompanied Emily out of the restroom. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got to drop off my pie. They’re having a contest for desserts. I made my Key Lime Pie.”

  Naomi caught up with them followed by Clara. “I love your pie. Is there any more where that came from?”

  While her daughter and her friends conferred about the pie supply, Emily, shoulders slumped in fatigue and despair, trudged over to Lewis who had been joined by Donald.

  “Got yourself another dead one, huh?” asked Donald.

  She shot him a dirty look. “What else do you need, Detective? I’d like to get home and take a bath.”

  “Why do you smell like barbeque?” asked Donald.

  “Everybody smells like barbeque around here. Haven’t you noticed?” snapped Emily.

  “I kind of like the smell. Sexy, in a condiment-like way. Makes me want to buy you a beer.” Donald winked at Lewis.

  “That’ll have to wait a bit. Right now, I need her to come down to the station and give a statement.” Lewis paused. “That a new hairdo, Emily?”

  She shook her head. The still damp and mangled curls shivered with the movement.

  “I like it. Better than the cologne you’re wearing,” said Big Chuck, the manager of the event. “I hear you found a body, and we’re missing one.” Behind him stood a woman, slack jawed with the saddest look on her face that Emily had ever seen. She wore baggy jeans, bleached almost white from numerous washings and a shirt which once must have been bright red. It had been reduced to a lighter shade by too many meetings with Maytag. At her side stood a boney hound dog, his expression an exact replica of his mistress’. He gave an occasional scratch to his belly with one hind leg, then settled into the dirt with a sigh.

  “We just set up this morning,” said the woman in a monotone voice. “Our dog was worrying himself with a bout of fleas, so I took him off to the vet. Had to wait a while. When I got back, Everett was gone.” The woman gave a sigh too and settled back on her heels, waiting.

  “This here is Melanie Pratt. She and her husband Everett are barbequers. They signed on just last week for this competition,” said Chuck. He leaned in close to the detective. “From the description I think the barbeque-covered corpse is Everett.”

  “I’d like you to come down to the county medical examiner’s office, Mrs. Pratt. I’m sorry, but there’s a chance the body of the dead man is your husband’s.”

  Melanie Pratt didn’t blink. Her expression of extreme fatigue with life softened a bit, but there was no other sign she worried her husband was dead. “What’ll I do with Milo?” She nodded toward the dog who stood up at the mention of his name. His tail gave half a wag, then he settled once more into the dirt. “Can I take him with?”

  “Leave him at your camper,” said Chuck. I’ll have my wife stop by and check on him while you’re gone.”

  “Nice of you, but he’ll howl. Hates to be alone. Maybe he could ride along, and I’ll tie him up outside.”

  “Okay.” Lewis gestured toward his car and opened the back door. Milo and Melanie ambled over and settled themselves in the seat.

  “Could you move over a bit?” he asked. “I’ve got another passenger.” He put his hand on Emily’s back and pushed her toward the car.

  “I’m not riding with a dog who has fleas. Naomi will drive me.”

  Lewis nodded his approval, and then took Chuck to one side. “What can you tell me about this Everett Pratt? He one of the usual competitors?”

  “Not until this year. He’s only recently been hitting the circuit, and he does damn good barbeque. He’s won the last five competitions held in Georgia and Florida. Came out of nowhere. He’s a local. He’s got the others real riled up. They’ve spent years perfecting their sauces and techniques and then this nobody appears and puts them all down. If you’re looking for suspects, try all the competitors here.”

  Wasn’t it just the way, thought Emily, saddened for the job Lewis had ahead of him. Too many suspects, too few leads.

  He drove Mrs. Pratt to the medical examiner’s office, leaving Milo in the backseat of his cruiser. Mrs. Pratt gave a slight nod indicating she recognized the body as that of her husband. Lewis marveled at her containment. Or was it simply fatigue? Depression? Guilt?

  True to the word of his mistress, the dog howled the entire half hour they were inside. Neighbors called the sheriff’s office only to learn the dog was being held inside one of the department’s cruisers. Because of the complaints, Chief Worley called Lewis to try to hustle things along, then sent another cruiser to take Mrs. Pratt and the dog home.

  By the time Lewis appeared in his office, Emily had been sitting there for almost an hour. She wasn’t in a good mood, and she was still covered with sauce. He threw open his window to let the smell dissipate. He was beginning to think it would be a long time before he ate ribs again.

  As uncomfortable as Emily was in her sauce-encrusted clothes, Lewis was feeling far worse. He squirmed around in his chair, twitching his shoulders and ducked behind his desk to scratch his ankles.

  “What is wrong with you? I’m trying to cooperate here and you leave me waiting in this tiny tin can of an office for an hour, and the air conditioning doesn’t even work right. Now I’m sweaty as well as saucy. Then you can’t even pay attention to what I’m saying. What are you doing?”

  “I’m scratching,” he said. “I think I’ve got fleas.”

  Chapter 3

  By the time Emily got back to her own little park model in her condominium park, the sun was about to come up. Her daughter tossed her bags on the floor inside the door, then they both flopped down on the sofa. They sighed in unison.

  “I guess this feels just like last yea
r when you found that rancher’s body in the dumpster, huh, Mom?”

  “Yeah, and I really wish everyone would stop reminding me of that. It wasn’t a pleasant episode in my life.”

  Naomi leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “But look what came out of that. Me. And you met Detective Lewis. And Donald, too, although I sometimes wonder how great that is. He certainly likes you a lot, but he’s one strange dude.”

  “The men in my life. One’s a detective with the personality of an alligator hunting down his prey. Donald’s got absolutely no sense of humor. And I work with him. Sometimes I really miss Fred.”

  “I wish I’d met him. He sounds like a great guy.”

  Emily pulled the pony tail clip out of her hair and shook the curls free. Sometimes days went by without her thinking of Fred. Other times the smell of a man’s cologne could set her thinking of her dead partner with a longing so intense she thought she’d die herself. “He was wonderful in his way. Except he was forgetful as hell. It would have been nice if he’d told me he made out a will.”

  “You’ve got your weird men, and I unloaded mine.” Naomi’s face puckered up in distaste.

  “Divorcing Barry was the right thing to do. You know that, don’t you?”

  Naomi nodded. “But sometimes I wish it could have been different.”

  “I understand.” Emily tried to stifle a yawn. “Sorry, honey. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m too dead tired to drive to Georgia today. Can we put it off and get a little sleep?”

  Naomi didn’t answer Emily. She snored quietly on her mother’s shoulder.

  Emily got off the couch without disturbing her, looked longingly at the coffee pot, then decided she couldn’t risk making a pot without wakening her daughter. She tiptoed off to the bedroom. Halfway down the hall, Naomi called to her. “I can’t see Detective Lewis as an alligator. More like a charging Brahman bull. Big, handsome. Just needs the right woman to tame him.”

  Emily hurrumphed and continued toward her bed.

  Not certain her old faithful car, Stan the Sedan could make it all the way to Jekyll Island, Emily was happy to have Naomi drive her car, a two-year old Mustang convertible Naomi had purchased against her now ex-husband’s wishes.

  “Barry thought I was cruising the town looking for dates. I just loved the feel of wind in my hair. Made me think I was free.” Naomi’s ex, Barry Montrose, an abusive cop from the West Palm Beach area left his job with the West Palm Beach Police department and hadn’t been seen for several months. Before he disappeared, he’d willingly signed the divorce papers. Emily smiled to herself. She was certain pressure from Donald and Lewis convinced him to sign.

  As they headed up I95 the Monday after Emily stumbled on Everett Pratt’s body, Emily tried to put the murder out of her mind. Naomi, sensing her mother’s mood, put down the top and tuned the radio to oldies. Emily had given up her daughter for adoption at birth, and the two of them looked forward to this bonding experience. At Melbourne, Emily took over the wheel while Naomi perused the brochures on Jekyll Island she’d obtained through a travel agency.

  “Oh, boy. Would you look at this?” She stuck the brochure under Emily’s nose.

  “Honey, I’m driving. I can’t see with that in front of me.”

  “Sorry. Anyway, it looks as if there’s a barbeque festival on Jekyll this weekend. How about that. I can get me some ribs. I never got the chance to sample any because of the murder and all.”

  Emily shuddered. “If I never taste another rib or brisket or chicken half, it won’t be too soon. I smelled barbeque sauce in my sleep last night. I’ll let you go by yourself. I’ll stay in the campground and read.”

  “That was kind of insensitive of me. I’m sorry. You had a bad time. I can do without barbeque. Seafood is what we need, right?”

  Emily shook her head and smiled. A lovely shrimp and clam plate. She licked her lips in anticipation.

  It was early in the season, after the long Easter weekend, but not yet May when the tourists rushed in from central Florida and Georgia looking for the sound of the surf and some beach sand between their toes. The campground was only half full, so Emily and Naomi chose the best spot, to the back of the tent sites under one of the live oak trees. No one else had set up near them, and the woman at the registration desk said they had only a handful of reservations for the week.

  “You here early for the barbeque festival?” the woman asked when they signed in.

  “God no,” said Emily.

  “Well, it’ll be quiet here for the next few days, but we’re full up for the coming weekend.” The woman swiped her credit card.

  “We might as well enjoy the quiet before the hoards of meat eaters arrive.” Emily signed the registration form and scribbled her name on the credit slip.

  The tent popped up with no problem, and Emily drove the last stake into the ground. “Weather looks a little iffy for tomorrow. I want to make sure we’ve got her staked down well.”

  Naomi unfolded the chairs and placed them in front of the fire circle. “Sit down and let’s take a look at what there’s to do around here. The guy whose name I will not speak and I honeymooned here, but we stayed at the Jekyll Club Hotel and didn’t do much exploring.” She blushed. “I want to tour the historic village where they’ve restored many of the houses, and I hear they have a great dining room at Crane Cottage. Let’s have dinner there tonight.”

  “When I suggested this as a get away for us, I had no idea you and the ex had been here. Fred and I usually stopped for an overnight on our way back and forth to Florida. I hope this isn’t going to bring back bad memories for you.”

  “Nope. I was still in love with him then. Besides, I never got to see the island, and I always wanted to.” She reached down to get another brochure out of the pile she’d placed beside the chair. “Here’s the menu for Crane Cottage.” She handed it to her mother.

  “Pricey. Let’s save this for another time. We can go to the supermarket and pick up supplies. Tonight I’d like to just kick back with a burger on the grill and a bottle of red.”

  Naomi shook her blonde curls in agreement.

  By nine that evening both women were on their second glass of wine, staring into the campfire Emily built.

  “This is the life.” She shifted around in her camp chair and yawned. “I think when I finish this glass, I’m off to bed.”

  “Me too. All this fresh air and the wine made me sleepy.”

  Before the women could get out of their chairs, an old Ford pick-up drove by the site. Emily couldn’t see the driver’s face in the dark. There appeared to be no one with him. The truck rattled its way over the ruts of the road and headed toward the very back of the campground.

  “I guess he didn’t want to camp next to a couple of women,” said Emily.

  “Fine with me. We don’t need someone on top of us anyway.”

  Along with sunup came the sound of someone yelling and banging on metal.

  “Get the hell away from my truck. Go on, shoo.” The voice was male and came from the direction Emily and Naomi had seen the late arrival take last night.

  Naomi sprung out of bed. “What’s that? Sounds like something has invaded the guy’s camp site. He might need help.”

  Emily laughed and turned over in her sleeping bag. “I’ll bet it’s those dang blackbirds. If he didn’t cover his side mirrors, the birds are pecking on them.”

  “I wondered what you were doing when you slipped the plastic bags over the mirrors last night.”

  “The birds around here fall in love with their reflections. They can crack the glass if you’re not careful.”

  Emily sat up and stretched. “I’m awake. And nature is calling. I might as well make coffee when I get back from the restrooms. I’ll check on our neighbor to see if he’s alright.”

  After using the campground facilities, Emily headed out of the bathrooms the opposite direction she’d arrived, intending to walk by the campsite of the man they’d seen come in last night. As sh
e approached his site, she saw the man get into his truck and drive off. In the morning light she caught the glare of the sun off a broken side mirror and chuckled. The only thing left at the campsite was a pile of beer cans next to the smoldering fire.

  I’m glad he’s not staying here, she thought. With all the beer he’d gone through last night, he couldn’t have been a good camping neighbor.

  She shook her head and continued back to the tent. Huh. There was no sign of Naomi, and one of the bikes they’d rented yesterday when they arrived was gone. Why would Naomi leave without me?

  She opened the tent flap and noticed a scrap of paper on her sleeping bag. A note from Naomi.

  I’m sure the guy in that truck is Toby Sands. I’m going to follow him to see what he’s doing here.

  Oh, no, thought Emily. Naomi could get herself into trouble taking off after Toby.

  Crooked cop Toby from the Big Lake Police Department. He’d lost his job because he’d been involved in some shady business with the rancher Emily found dead in the dumpster several months ago. What was he doing here? His appearance and theirs couldn’t be a coincidence. But Emily thought he was in jail. Her peace of mind was dependent upon his being in jail. Maybe he got out on good behavior. She grimaced at the thought. There was nothing good about the man. He took money for doing things against the law and almost got Naomi and Emily killed. How could the man be out of jail? Emily extracted her cell phone from her shorts pocket and hit the button to connect to Detective Lewis.

  “Sorry, Ms. Rhodes, but the detective is out of town for several days. I can put you through to his voice mail.”

  Emily told Lewis where she and Naomi were and that they’d spotted Toby at the campground. “Is he out on bail or what?” Her tone of voice was accusatory as if Toby’s presence was some how Lewis’ fault. After she hung up she called back to apologize, then decided she had a perfect right to be offended that a criminal was at large. She called into Lewis’ voice mail again.