Grilled, Chilled and Killed

by Lesley A. Diehl

  Chapter 12

  Toby was uncomfortable at the marina in Stuart. He was not fond of water or boats of any kind. Although he was at dockside and the depth there couldn’t have been more than six or so feet, looking down into the water gave him the jitters. It wasn’t just the night and the water. Face it, Toby, he said to himself. Mr. Smith gives me the jitters.

  A hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed, then squeezed harder. The pain was so terrible that tears came to his eyes, and he had all he could do not to call out for help. He twisted around to look at his attacker who continued to apply pressure so severe Toby feared permanent injury, nerve damage to his neck or arm.

  The person crushing his shoulder let go abruptly, laughed and slapped him on the back as if they were old friends. They were not friends but old business acquaintances in a deal that didn’t quite work out for either of them. Toby didn’t know who he feared more, Mr. Smith or this cop gone bad, a rogue with a zeal for humiliating women.

  “You know, Toby, you get uglier every time I see you. Anyone ever tell you you look like a troll? And the beard. There’s a nice addition to your sickening appearance.” Barry Montrose made him nervous. Montrose was a dirty cop and, although some might put Toby in that same category, Toby didn’t think of himself that way. In fact, he disliked cops on the take. Toby wasn’t a bad cop, merely one who was misunderstood by his colleagues.

  To prevent Montrose from seeing the disgust and fear on his face, Toby raised his hand and stroked his beard. He was glad he grew it. Playing with his mustache and fondling his beard made him feel manly, courageous even. Most of all, he thought it made him look distinguished.

  The man who spoke disparagingly of Toby’s growth was Naomi’s ex-husband. Toby had once done him a favor expecting to be paid for it, but the money hadn’t materialized even though Toby had handed over Naomi to him as agreed. The young woman had gotten away from her abusive husband, shooting him to make her escape. Toby knew she humiliated him. A girl shooting a cop. Toby thought about how he’d lost out on that deal and wondered if Montrose was foolish enough to stiff him again. Or was Toby fool enough to let him? Nope ,thought Toby. I’m on my guard this time.

  “Bungled it again on Jekyll Island, didn’t you, you twisted little man?”

  “Blame the weather, not me, or better yet, blame your Mr. Smith for being too chicken to hang around in a little blow to do the job.”

  “’A little blow.’” The words came out of the darkness behind Toby, no more than two feet away from his ear. They sent a tremor into his soul and, for a moment, he wished Naomi’s husband was crushing his shoulder instead. “Perhaps we should take the troll with us when we set sail with our cargo. We don’t need him. I’ll make some arrangement to get her.”

  “You don’t have the connections. Toby does. Do you realize how out of place you’d look in cow country here? No, Toby’s our man.” With this, he grabbed Toby’s shoulder again and squeezed. Hard. “Huh, Toby? You’ll do the job right this time. Or I’ll never use you again. And no one else will either.”

  Smith said nothing, merely looked down at Toby, his cold eyes paralyzing any response Toby might have given.

  Toby hated both these men and someday, he vowed, he’s get back at them for treating him like a cretin. For now, he’d just play along. And live through another night.

  Emily waited for Lorelei at the Cattleman’s Ranch, one of the area’s newer and better restaurants. Unfortunately, its specialty was barbeque, and the odors emanating from their kitchen made Emily nauseous. Just as well, she thought. I think I’m putting on a little weight. It must be investigating these murders. I always seem to be questioning someone in a restaurant.

  “May I join you?”

  She looked up and straight into those piercing eyes of Detective Lewis.

  “No, you may not. I’m meeting someone, and the conversation is private.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stuck out her chin at him.

  He ignored her and sat. “Thanks.”

  “Are you following me?”

  “I’ve got better things to do than to tag along behind some little gal who thinks she’s smarter than me.”

  Emily hurrumphed and tucked her arms more tightly against her chest. She was more than a bit tired of men referring to her as “a little gal.”

  “You might be interested to know I talked with Melanie Pratt this morning.”

  Emily’s face brightened, she dropped her defensive pose and leaned forward.

  “What did you find out?”

  The look of triumph left the detective’s face. “Nothing much.”

  “You need a warrant to search her house, under the sink, or in the garage, storage shed, whatever.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’m working on it.”

  Emily smiled, a tiny muscled twitch that twisted only one corner of her mouth up. “Me too.”

  Storm clouds gathered on Lewis’ face. “Emily, Emily, Emily. When will you ever learn? This work is for a real detective.” He got up without another word and walked away

  He tipped his hat to Lorelei Pratt who entered the restaurant as Lewis walked toward the door. Before he exited, Emily saw him turn and give her a final severe look.

  Pig-headed cop.

  “So what was our friend, the detective doing here?” Lorelei slid into the chair opposite Emily’s.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he took an early lunch.”

  “He stop by to talk with you?”

  Emily hesitated before she replied, knowing that what she was about to do didn’t feel quite okay with her conscience.

  “Yeah, he did.” She leaned forward and grabbed Lorelei’s hand. “He’s looking at Melanie for the poisoning and for the murder. We need to do something. Maybe, if I talked to her, I could change the detective’s mind.”

  Lorelei scrutinized Emily’s face. Whatever she saw there convinced her to trust Emily. “Right. Let’s grab something to go and visit Melanie. I love that gal, and I’d sure feel bad if the detective railroaded her into jail.”

  “So would I.” Emily crossed her fingers. It wasn’t exactly a lie especially if Melanie wasn’t guilty, but if she didn’t poison her husband, who then?

  Emily had second thoughts about driving Lorelei to Melanie’s house as she steered recalcitrant Stan the Sedan down the potholed sandy route.

  “Turn here.” Lorelei gestured to a driveway that was even more bumpy than the road. “Right there it is.”

  Emily applied the brakes to Stan who came to a stop with a shudder, the automobile equivalent to a sigh of relief. Directly in front of them was the oldest trailer Emily had ever seen. In places the aluminum siding hung to the ground as if someone tried to strip the siding bare, but failed, leaving the structure looking as if it had been unsuccessfully skinned. An air conditioner tipped precariously out one of the front windows stuttered and droned. Water dripped from the bottom of the unit and ran down the side of the trailer in a rust- colored stream.

  This was the home of the winner of barbeque contests throughout the southeast? Emily couldn’t believe it.

  Melanie slammed open the front door. It threatened to fly back in her face, but she caught it in time. She nodded at Lorelei, giving little hint they were sisters-in-law. “I’m not prepared for visitors.”

  And I’m not prepared to question this woman in what she calls her home, Emily thought. The place appeared as if it might collapse under the weight of visitors. Maybe that’s what Melanie meant.

  As Emily searched for some excuse to leave, another woman appeared in the doorway. This one was younger than Melanie. Where Melanie looked as if she carried the burden of the world upon reluctant shoulders, her companion, a smile on her full lips, slipped her arm around Melanie and waved gaily for the two visitors to come in.

  “Hi there, Lorelei. Haven’t seen you around here much. C’mon in. I just fixed a batch of sweet tea.”

  “I’m Emily Rhodes.” She held out her hand, and the younger woman shook i
t with enthusiasm.

  “This here’s Melanie’s daughter-in-law, Stacy. Emily and I are here on business. We think that detective may want to arrest your mamma for murder, and Emily thinks if she talks to Melanie, she might convince the detective he’s wrong.”

  Melanie’s hand flew to her throat and, for the first time since Emily had met the woman, her face registered other than fatigue and depression. Now her expression was one of fear.

  “That’s just silly.” Stacy drew her mother-in-law closer to her. “Mama wouldn’t harm anybody, even Everett, though he sure deserved what he got.”

  “Who’s there?” The voice was male and filled with suspicion.

  Oh, oh, thought Emily. This had to be the son, according to Naomi a real unfriendly sort.

  A man Emily recognized from her daughter’s description of him pushed into the doorway. “Oh, it’s you, Lorelei. Seems the only time you come visiting is when someone’s died.”

  “My husband, Jasper, Everett’s son. He’s taking his daddy’s death real hard.”

  To Emily’s eye the man didn’t look sad, rather his face conveyed hostility.

  “Uh, maybe this isn’t a good time.” Emily took one step backward.

  “Who’re you?” Jasper spit out the words and leaned forward as if he contemplated launching himself at her.

  “This is a friend, Emily Rhodes. Jasper, your mamma’s in trouble, and she’s here to help.” Lorelei certainly had chutzpah. She didn’t appear frightened of the man at all.

  “Help? How?” Jasper’s anger diminished little. Emily watched a red flush color his face and spittle fly from his mouth. He reminded her of an enraged Brahman bull.

  “I know Detective Lewis and …”

  “He’s got the killer in jail.” Another man appeared behind Jasper in the trailer doorway. He was a lean as Jasper, but short. His face reminded Emily of a bat’s with its long pointed nose and small mouth filled with tiny teeth.

  “Elmer, my partner in the barbeque business.” The appearance of another male seemed to calm Jasper. He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

  “Outside,” said his wife.

  “I am outside.”

  “No, you’re standing in the doorway. That smoke is just gonna drift back into the kitchen, and the house will stink for days. Besides it’s not good for Riana. She’s only eleven. I want our daughter to grow up in a smoke-free house.”

  He pulled the cigarette out from between his teeth and slid it back into the pack.

  “Elmer’s right, isn’t he? The killer’s in jail?” asked Melanie. “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Well, there’s another issue the detective’s looking into,” Lorelei said. “We’re here to explain, and Emily thinks she might help out.”

  “I gotta get to work.” Jasper reached into the house and grabbed a denim jacket.

  “You’re cooking tonight? I didn’t know there was a barbeque festival around here except for one rescheduled because of, uh, your dad’s, uh, you know,” said Emily.

  Jasper gave her a look that said her comment was about what he’d expect from a dumb blond, probably a dumb little gal blonde, thought Emily.

  “I work at the box factory. Barbequing is a hobby. Can’t make no money cookin’ meat.” He and Elmer strode toward a pick-up parked at the side of the trailer. The truck was as battered as the trailer. Man these folks were hard on metal, thought Emily. He and Elmer got in, Jasper taking the driver’s seat. He hit the gas, spinning the wheels on the sandy drive.

  “Never mind him. He’s…”

  “Grieving for his daddy,” Emily finished for Stacy. Yeah, that would make me crusty, too.

  “C’mon in.” Melanie stood to one side and let Emily and Lorelei into the trailer. The inside surprised Emily. Everything was old and threadbare from the curtains hanging limply on the windows to the plaid couch whose upholstery was worn thin by years of use, but the place was neat, clean, and nothing seemed out of place. The old hound dog slept on the floor in front of the couch. At their entrance, he raised his head and looked hopefully toward a dog dish on the kitchen floor, then turned his attention to the torn, but mended recliner that sat in the far corner of the living room.

  “No food now, and you stay put, Milo.” Stacy waggled her finger at the dog who lowered his head with a sigh of disappointment, then scratched his stomach and returned to his slumber world of rabbits, squirrels and other creatures who would flee before his ferocity. Even dogs had their dreams, Emily conceded.

  Emily settled herself on the sofa. When Melanie handed her a glass of tea, it slipped through her fingers and dropped to the floor.

  “Oh, I’m so clumsy. I’ll clean it up.” Emily popped off the couch and dashed for the kitchen. Before either Melanie or Stacy could follow, she opened the door under the sink.

  “I assume this is where you keep your cleaning rags.” Emily stooped down as if to look for something to mop up the tea. Instead she explored the contents of the cupboard looking for anything like rat poison.

  Melanie stooped down behind her. “Here. Let me. You’re company. I’m out of rags here. There are some left in the bathroom, I think”

  Emily pursued her down the hall, knowing now was the only opportunity she’d have to see what was stored under the bathroom sink. Melanie grabbed a cloth rag and turned to face Emily.

  “It might stain. You know how tea is. Don’t you have any cleaners there?”

  “Cold water will take it out of the couch, and it don’t’ look like any of it spilled on you.” She gave Emily an unfriendly look, as if she knew what Emily was up to.

  Emily refused another glass of sweet tea and, by the time she and Melanie returned to the living room, Lorelei had finished hers.

  Lorelei looked toward Emily. “You ready to go?”

  Melanie led them to the outside door. “I guess you’ve seen what you need to.”

  Emily nodded in embarrassment. Her attempt to look into the trailer’s cupboards and storage places was bumbling.

  “You can tell Detective Lewis there’s nothing here of interest to him.” Stacy spit out the words and put her arm around her mother-in-law’s shoulder. “You can also tell him not to send an amateur to do his job for him. I’m ashamed of you, Lorelei, for believing this woman’s tale she wanted to clear Mama’s name.”

  Lorelei delivered a look of disgust at Emily. “I surely am ashamed of myself.” She opened the car door and got in. Before she joined her, Emily turned toward the trailer for a final look at the place. Despite her embarrassment at how lousy her detecting skills were, she wondered if she’d missed something. Maybe she had, but now was not the time to explore any further.

  “Nothing, was there?” Lorelei looked at Emily with a smile of satisfaction on her face. “You are a traitor. That’ll teach me to believe in a Yankee.” Lorelei stared out the side window the entire way back to her place, then got out of the car and without a backward look, stalked up to her front door.

  Emily drove off, feeling as if the entire endeavor had set the investigation back several steps. Instead of gaining Melanie’s trust, she’d alienated the woman with her graceless attempt at finding the poison. How could she face Detective Lewis? She’d face him, she told herself, but only after she’d satisfied her curiosity about those storage hatches she’d seen under the trailer. All she needed was someone to help her.

  Emily hummed tunelessly all the way back to her place. She’d almost decided to get in touch with Donald, but her daughter’s voice on her answering machine back at the house told her she could skip putting herself in Donald’s hands. It was just as well. He’d get ideas, and she didn’t need that.

  “Hi, Mom,” said Naomi’s voice on the machine. “I got a great job. I’m dying to tell you about it, but it doesn’t begin for two weeks. I thought I’d come visit, and we could attend the barbeque cook-off together. Unless you’re still off smoked meats. Call me.”

  She could do smoked meat if that’s what Naomi wanted, but she wa
s more interested in a smoker’s storage area, and she wondered if Naomi was too. She was about to return her daughter’s call, when the phone rang.

  “Hi, honey. I know this is short notice, but it’s me, Daisy DuBignon St. Simonton. Hubby and I took a drive down here on a lark and thought we’d look you up. You gonna be home tonight?”

  How fortunate. Daisy seemed like a woman with adventure in her soul, and Rodney might be just right for the position of look-out. No sense in getting Naomi involved if she could help it.

  “You want to do what?” Daisy and Rodney were seated on her couch each sipping some Maker’s Mark.

  “I have to work tonight, the late shift, but I’m sure it’ll be a slow evening. We can get out of the country club around nine and drive on over to Melanie’s place. I found out there’s a meeting of the contestants for the contest, and it starts at nine. It shouldn’t be over until ten or so. Plenty of time.”

  The information on the meeting came from the cook-off’s manager, Big Chuck. She’d called to chat with him about working the event this weekend. He wasn’t exactly suspicious of her call, but in order to get her information, she did have to promise him free drinks next time he came into the country club. She figured him for an old horse trader who never gave anything away for free.

  Emily knew she was taking a chance on many levels. There was the possibility she would get caught. Or maybe she’d misjudged the St. Simontons, and they were more law-abiding than she was or less interested in getting to the root of a killing they had no interest in.

  Daisy and Rodney exchanged glances.

  “Well, heck, yes. We’re in, aren’t we honey?’ Rodney seemed about to jump out of his wheel chair, and Daisy looked as if she might just help him do it.

  “Sounds like fun and I haven’t had a real adventure since the time last year we hid Bradley Murphy’s Cadillac behind the local house of pleasure. You should have seen his wife’s face when the police found it. ‘Course Bradley had it coming. He was a real rounder.” Daisy chuckled and slugged down the rest of her whiskey.