Grilled, Chilled and Killed

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “Mom, you don’t have to be nasty.”

  Lewis dropped his head into his hands for a moment. “Clara must have called you with the news,” he said to his feet.

  “Yep.” Emily couldn’t help putting a note of triumph in her voice.

  “But,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt about how she was treating him, “I’m sure we’re all glad the guy is behind bars. What a horrible way to die.”

  When he looked up, he seemed to see Emily for the first time this evening. “You look different.”

  “Oh, crap,” she said, then stalked out of the room.

  “I missed something, right?” said Lewis.

  “Let’s just go eat barbeque, and you can give me all the details about the arrest.”

  “You don’t think Emily wants to go with us? She looks like she’s dressed for a date.”

  “She’s got a date. Kind of.”

  “I never thought Toby would come through for us, but he did.” Lewis fairly bubbled over with details of the case as he and Naomi walked the festival grounds. “Right after Everett’s murder we took barbeque samples from each of the contestants from the festival to compare against the sauce covering our victim. No match. I thought we’d hit a dead end, but now we’ve got the murder weapon. I know you find Toby repugnant, but this time he came through for us.”

  “Well, I hope his cooperation doesn’t make you forget what a bottom feeder he is.”

  He looked at Naomi and saw disgust and fear there. Better to change the subject, he thought.

  “Tonight is the big competition and the last night of the festival. This should be fun.”

  Naomi gave him a thin smile. “Thanks for bringing me. And don’t worry about Mom. She’ll get over her mad at you.”

  He hoped Naomi was right.

  People crowded the grounds, stopping at the competitors’ tents to taste the food. The judges had decided on winners in each category. Now it was time for the attendees to vote.

  Lewis and Naomi paid their entry fees and were handed an envelope in which they found tickets. Each had the name and number of a barbeque contestant on it along with a label indicating the kind of barbeque.

  “Okay, now what do we do with these?” asked Naomi.

  “Let’s ask this guy.” Lewis approached one of the festival’s officials.

  “Take one half of your ticket and present it to the barbequers in the booth and they’ll give you a sample of their barbeque. When you finish tasting all you want to, take the other half of your tickets and go down there to vote for your favorites.” The man pointed to the far end of the row of booths.

  “So all we have to do is eat and enjoy, I guess.” Naomi approached the first booth.

  The sign over the tent read “Sam’s Sauce: A Taste of Louisiana.” Emily gave the woman in front of the grill a Sam’s Sauce ticket labeled “chicken”. She was handed a small Styrofoam cup with a piece of chicken in it.

  She popped it into her mouth and chewed. “Oh, that is heaven. So moist and the sauce is just tangy enough.”

  “If you think so, don’t forget to vote for us by putting the other half of that ticket in the box.” The woman smiled at Naomi and pointed toward the ballot boxes. Naomi nodded her head in enthusiasm.

  They worked their way down the line of booths, trying all the meats at each booth. They had sampled food at half the contestants when Naomi grabbed Lewis’ arm and stopped him.

  “I’m so full of barbeque, I don’t think I can eat another bite. How can I make a decision which one I like best?”

  “Why don’t we take a break? I’ll buy you a beer, and we can sit over there.” Lewis pointed out an area where chairs had been put up and a tent erected. “Looks like there’s going to be music.”

  A band was setting up under the tent, and people seemed to have the same idea as Lewis and Naomi. The seats began to fill up.

  They grabbed their beers and sat. After several minutes listening to the music, which was so loud Naomi thought her eardrums would burst, Lewis leaned over and spoke.

  “What?”

  Lewis leaned closer. “I said, let’s walk off the food and the beer. I’m not crazy about the music.”

  They continued strolling along the booths, sipping their beers. On occasion, they’d stop and sample the barbeque again.

  Near the end of the line they encountered a booth with a Bassett hound tied up at the side of it.

  “The Pratts are here. I heard the family needed the money.” Lewis gave the dog wide berth. The hound opened one eye and examined the tall detective stepping near his food dish. The canine gave a short, but unenthusiastic woof as if to warn the human away from his vittles.

  “Howdy, Mrs. Pratt.” Lewis tipped his hat to Melanie Pratt who greeted him with as much enthusiasm as had her Bassett hound. “I guess you’re relieved we found your husband’s killer.”

  Melanie Pratt served up a helping of barbeque to a customer, then looked at Lewis with skepticism. “I suppose. If you got the right man. It’s hard to believe Bill would murder someone. He seemed like a good guy.”

  A tall man, skinny, but with a large belly, stepped in front of Mrs. Pratt. His apron was covered with reddish brown sauce making it look as if he had been in back butchering the meat they were cooking.

  “Trouble, Mama?” He held onto the large barbeque fork as if he was prepared to skewer anyone who gave his mother lip.

  “You remember Detective, uh, the detective who’s working your daddy’s murder.” This was said with a monotone Lewis was growing to expect from the woman. It seemed as if she could find nothing in her life to be interested in, not even knowing who killed her husband.

  “What’re you doing here? I thought you got daddy’s killer.” His tone was both suspicious and challenging.

  “We got him. I’m just here to taste some barbeque.”

  The son turned without a word and headed back to the smoker, muttering under his breath.

  Mrs. Pratt’s gaze followed her son then shifted to Lewis. She paused a moment as if she saw something in Lewis that made an explanation for her son’s behavior necessary. “He’s aggrieved cuz of his daddy’s death.”

  “And taking it out on the world,” said Naomi low enough that Mrs. Pratt wouldn’t hear her.

  “I suppose you want a taste of this here barbeque.” Before either Naomi or Lewis could answer, Mrs. Pratt slopped a spoonful of meat and sauce into two cups and handed the samples to them.

  “Go on. Give it a taste.”

  They did.

  Naomi groaned in pleasure. “This has to be the best barbeque here.”

  “Told ya.” Again there was no joy or pride in her voice, just that flat tone as if she was describing doing her laundry, but suddenly she flashed a smile. “It’s my daddy’s recipe.” As quickly as the smile appeared, it was gone.

  The dog raised his head and gave his stomach a scratch, then moaned and plopped his head on his paws. His gave Lewis a final look and closed his eyes.

  “Let’s go.” Lewis tipped his hat to Mrs. Pratt and steered Naomi to the next booth.

  “What’s with you and the Pratt dog? He acted like he knew you.”

  “All too well. We’ve shared the same close friends.” Lewis bent over to give a scratch at his ankle.

  “There must be twenty or more contestants here. More than back in Florida.” Naomi’s eye wandered over to the ice cream booth. She was full of barbeque, but not of ice cream.

  “This is bigger, but with this murder wrapped up, some of them will return to Florida, and we can do the Big Lake Cook-off there now.” Lewis let out his breath and sighed in relief.

  Naomi stopped, grabbed Lewis’ hand, and squeezed it. “I’m glad this case is over. I’m not glad Toby played a role in it, but I’m happy for you.”

  “Toby found the murder weapon. I’ve got to admit he surprised me. What also surprised me was its appearing like that. I know we searched everyone’s trucks and trailers thoroughly. Why would it suddenly turn up and
so out in the open too?”

  “Maybe the murderer planted it there to throw suspicion off himself.”

  “Maybe.” Did Toby have something up his sleeve? It was a thought Lewis didn’t want to entertain, but, he had to admit, it occurred to him also. He shoved it to the back of his head as he’d done earlier, then admitted it was something he’d have to consider more carefully.

  “How do you know it was the murder weapon?”

  “The blood on its matches our victim’s.” Lewis watched Naomi’s face blanch at his words.

  “I think I’ve had about all the chicken, rib and stuff I can eat.” She tossed out her sample of pulled pork, and the man in the booth who gave it to her looked as if she had slapped him in the face.

  “That bad?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. My stomach is a little off tonight, that’s all.”

  They continued down the line of booths heading toward the ballot boxes.

  “They should be ending the voting soon. Do you want to stay to see who’s the people’s choice in each category?” Lewis thought perhaps he’d ruined her evening by talking about the murder.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  The booth just before the balloting area was closed.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Naomi.

  “That’s the guy who’s our murder suspect. Name’s Bill Harper. Toby found the fire poker in the bed of his truck.”

  Toby watched the big detective and the young woman seat themselves and await the announcement of the winners. Toby didn’t care who won the barbeque contest. Tonight Toby was the big winner. He ducked behind his cousin Bill’s closed booth and waited in the shadows for the man he had arranged to meet at nine. Too bad that fire rod had been found in Cousin Bill’s truck, but it fit so perfectly. He told Lewis that too. Everett Pratt had come in first in the last five contests beating out Toby’s cousin who took second place. Bill was furious, and that kind of anger could erupt into a killing rage. Toby had seen it many times as a cop.

  Toby spit chaw juice onto the ground and patted his pocket as he waited. Lewis had given him fifty bucks for his good work and made him promise to return to Florida the next day. He said he would. What choice did he have with only fifty bucks that soon would be spent on a bottle of whiskey and gas money for his truck?

  He’d taken a cash advance on his credit card, maxxed it out and given ten of it to one of the kids on the cleaning crew and had him buy some jars of barbeque sauce, specific containers from one of the contestants. They weren’t for Toby’s use, but, if he was right about police procedure in this case, the bottles were insurance. He carried the bag with them in it as if he was transporting gold. It was, thought Toby.

  “Toby Sands?” The voice came from behind him and to the right, but the blow to his head came from the other direction.

  Toby awoke a few minutes later and fifty dollars poorer. Not only did he lose Lewis’ money, but he failed to finalize his deal. To others it might look like simple robbery. It wasn’t, that Toby knew. A whack on the head wouldn’t scare away ole Toby. He prided himself on what others thought was his stubborn nature. He thought himself dedicated. To making money. He chuckled a bit.

  And he was smart too. Because the man called his name, he knew he had the right fish on the line. Toby just needed to take great care to reel this big one in. He looked around on the ground near him. The bag was still there, but were the jars intact? Toby rummaged in the sack. Yes. They had been carefully wrapped in paper, and not one was broken.

  “Help,” he called. “I’ve been robbed.”

  Detective Lewis seated only yards away, came running, and with him came the chance of additional funds to get Toby back to Florida, back to home ground where he could finish up on several of his schemes. Toby smiled to himself as people came to his aid.

  Lewis sent Naomi back to the hotel in a taxi while he talked with Toby as they waited for the festival paramedics to arrive.

  “I ain’t going to no hospital.” Toby allowed them to examine his head and bandage the abrasion, but he refused further medical aid.

  “You might have a concussion,” insisted one of the paramedics.

  Tony remained adamant. No hospital.

  “Well, at least get him home. He needs to rest.”

  Toby looked at Lewis.

  “Where are you staying? I never did ask.” Lewis really didn’t want to know now, but, since no one else seemed willing to help out, it was up to Lewis to take Toby somewhere, and it wasn’t going to be back to Lewis’ condo.

  Toby gave Lewis a slidey-eyed look. “Uh, I’m staying with a friend.”

  “You have no friends.”

  “A guy from the festival let me have his trailer. He was spending all his time at his girlfriend’s so it was empty.”

  Everything in Lewis’ head got very still and his body froze. “You don’t mean you were living in Bill Harper’s trailer, the guy who owned the truck where you found the fire rod?”

  “Yeah. Now isn’t that a dirty shame? Guy seems like a real dude, gives you a place to stay, and it turns out he’s a killer.”

  Lewis grabbed the back of Toby’s shirt and pulled him onto his feet. “I should have known better than to let the captain talk me into using you to help find the murderer.”

  He shoved Toby in the direction of the trailers and fifth wheels. “I thought there was something fishy when we searched his trailer. He was so well groomed and clean yet the trailer was a pig sty.”

  At the door of the trailer, Lewis groaned and slapped his forehead. “How could I be so blind? There’s your spit can. I shouldn’t have missed that.”

  “So what? I didn’t know the guy was a murderer until I found that rod. And I called you right off, didn’t I?”

  Lewis shoved Toby into the trailer. “Go to bed. And be back in Florida by tomorrow night. If you’re not dead by then.”

  Lewis knew his case was about to suffer severe damage. He didn’t know what Toby did, but he did something. If ever a concussion killed anyone, Lewis prayed it would be Toby He could have killed Toby himself.

  “Mom? Are you here?” Naomi was breathless as she rushed through the door of the suite. The room was dark with only the small lamp on the desk left burning.

  Emily stuck her head out of one of the bedrooms. “What are you doing back so early?”

  Naomi explained about Toby being robbed.

  “Good. It’s what the slime ball deserves.”

  “Well, I agree, but it was cash Lewis had given him.”

  “Lewis is an idiot giving that man money. And for believing him about that fire poker, too.”

  “You don’t think he found it where he said?”

  “Oh, I think Toby found it, but who knows where. And finding it in someone’s truck doesn’t mean that person is guilty. It would be just like Toby to have planted it there.”

  “Why?” Naomi plopped down on the couch.

  “Who knows what goes through that cretin’s addled mind, if he has one.”

  Naomi looked at her mother in surprise. “You weren’t going to tell Lewis that, were you? Earlier tonight, I mean? You would have ruined his entire evening.”

  Emily smirked. “Nah. Good thing I held off. I’ll let Toby ruin it instead.”

  Emily continued to look pleased with herself.

  “What’s up?” Naomi could see she was dying to divulge some tasty morsel of information.

  “Well, you know how Lewis got fleas from that dog, the one Mrs. Pratt claimed she took to the vet the morning her husband was killed?”

  “So?”

  “When the authorities called the vets to confirm her alibi, the person on the desk looked at that day’s schedule and told them she had scheduled a flea bath.”

  “So? That confirms her alibi.”

  “But if the hospital gave him a flea bath, why was he still scratching so much? He still had fleas, and they jumped off onto Lewis.”

  “And you’ve figured out why.”

  “The ho
spital had an emergency that morning. Mrs. Pratt waited for half an hour or more, but the staff was tied up. She was given shampoo and flea treatment, and she left.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I had the evening to think. And I called Clara to do some sleuthing for me. If Lewis had talked to the personnel on duty that morning, he would have found out another story. Of course, it would have taken a bit of digging to find out what happened because things were in such a state that morning at the animal hospital.”

  Naomi was about to interrupt, but Emily took a quick breath and held up her finger to signal there was more.

  “Lewis was so certain I was wrong about the motive for Pratt’s death. He thought it had to do with the barbeque competition, and, of course, I knew it was more personal than that. Lewis isn’t such a smarty detective as he thinks. Ha.”

  “So Mrs. Pratt had plenty of time to get back home with her flea infested dog, bump off her husband, plant him in the cooler and then sic the dog on Lewis.”

  “Right.” Emily had a smug and triumphant look on her face. “Do you think he’s back at his condo by now?” She walked over to the phone.

  “You’re not going to call him, are you? Hasn’t the poor guy had enough trouble for one night?”

  “He hasn’t had trouble from me yet tonight.”

  “This is all about your embarrassment over the other night when you jumped into the shower with him. Then tonight you got all gussied up, thinking he’d notice, and he ignored you because he was preoccupied. You’re punishing him for your flirtatiousness.” Naomi looked disappointed in her mother.

  “No, I’m pointing out his shortcomings, that’s all.”

  She grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers.

  It rang and rang and rang.

  “He must be in the shower.” She was angry with him, certainly, but she hoped he was soaping up alone.

  The next morning, they said goodbye to Daisy and Rodney, thanking them for their hospitality and extending an invitation to come visit the Big Lake Country.

  “Of course, aside from the country club, fishing on the lake and kick-up-your-heels music at cowboy bars, there’s not much to do around there.”