“You’re a good man,” I said as I kissed my husband’s cheek.
“Maybe I just act that way when you’re around so you’ll think so,” he said as he started on the sandwich.
“Then I’m happy to tell you that it’s working,” I said. I ladled some soup into one of our to-go bowls and put a lid on it. “How long until the grilled cheese is finished?”
“An artist can’t hurry these things,” Greg said.
“How about you, though?” I asked with a smile.
“Give me two minutes. I’ll bring it all out when it’s finished.”
“That’s a deal.”
I went out front to find that Cass was no longer sitting where I’d told him to be. Instead, he had his back to me and was staring out the window.
“Is everything okay, Cass?” I asked him as I approached.
I must have startled him, because he practically jumped out of his skin when I finally got his attention. “You just about gave me a heart attack, Victoria.”
“What’s going on out there?” I asked as I looked over his shoulder.
“I thought I saw someone in the shadows across the street watching me,” Cass said as a shiver ran through him.
“Why would someone be watching you?” I asked. “What have you been up to lately?”
“Not a thing. That’s what’s got me so perplexed. It’s creepy, you know?”
“The darkness can play tricks on your eyes,” I said. “I’m sure that it’s nothing.”
Cass didn’t look all that convinced, but he nodded anyway. “So, what’s Greg making for me?”
“He mentioned a turkey sandwich,” I said.
“I hate those things,” he said. “Please tell me that you’re kidding.”
“I am,” I said. “He’s making you a grilled cheese and chicken soup combo.”
“That’s fine, then,” Cass said.
“Why the loathing of turkey?” I asked as I rang up his halved bill, and he quickly paid.
“When I was a boy, my grandmother kept live turkeys in the yard. She called them Thanksgiving and Christmas, since that’s when she ate them. It was tradition in her family, one that she could trace back to the Civil War. Anyway, one year she had a tom that was extremely aggressive, and he’d come after me anytime I was near. It got to the point where I couldn’t even visit her. Ever since, I can’t stand being around anything even remotely turkey-related.”
“I’d think you’d want to eat them every chance you got to get your revenge,” I said.
“Sadly, it never worked that way,” Cass reassured me.
As I gave him his change, Greg came out carrying a large bag. “Here you go, Cass.”
“Thanks, Greg,” he said, and after he took possession, I let him out and locked the door behind him. I lingered there to see if anyone from the shadows emerged, but if someone had been out there in the first place, they didn’t follow Cass down the road.
“What’s going on?” Greg asked as he looked out as well.
“Nothing. Cass thought he saw someone lurking in the shadows.”
Greg looked a little harder. “I don’t see anyone. Should I call the sheriff?”
“No, I’m sure that it was nothing more than Cass’s overactive imagination,” I replied.
“I don’t know. You can’t take chances like that when you’re investigating a murder.” Greg reached for his phone, and before I could stop him, he’d dialed 911.
“Sheriff, could you send someone past The Charming Moose? We might have someone watching us in the shadows from across the street.”
After my husband hung up, I said, “You didn’t have to do that. It’s probably nothing.”
“It can’t hurt,” Greg said. “After all, if something were to ever happen to you, I’d never be able to find someone else anywhere near as willing to put up with my nonsense.”
“And I’d hate the thought of training someone new myself. Look how long it’s taken me to civilize you.”
He wrapped me up in his arms, and I felt the safety and love he radiated toward me. “That’s so sweet. I love you, too, Victoria.”
Two minutes later, a squad car came by, and it slowed as it neared the diner. A powerful searchlight swept the shadows across the street, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The interior light of the squad car lit briefly, and one of the deputies waved to us.
We waved back, and he disappeared.
“See?” I asked. “It was nothing.”
“Or whoever was there had enough sense to move on before someone caught them,” Greg replied.
“My, but you’re sounding particularly paranoid tonight,” I replied.
“Like I said, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Or me to you,” I said. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“Well, call me crazy, but all of this talk about turkey made me crave some. I’ve got two plates with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cranberry sauce. Interested?”
“As a matter of fact, that sounds great.”
As we ate in the back, I took the first forkful of bird and held it up in the air. “To Tom Turkey,” I said.
“To Tom,” Greg repeated, and we shared a wonderful meal together.
By the time we left the diner, I had forgotten all about the possibility that someone might have been lurking in the shadows watching us.
Later that night, though, it was the first thing I thought of when Moose called me.
The bedside clock read 2:37 when I answered the phone, so I knew that my grandfather wasn’t calling me to discuss the weather, or even our future plans for our investigation.
If the time of night hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, then his tone of voice would have done it all by itself.
Moose had a serious problem, and my grandfather was about to dump it right into my lap.
Chapter 16
“Somebody just lit my truck on fire,” Moose said wearily after I picked up the phone.
“What? Are you okay?” I asked sleepily.
“What’s going on?” Greg asked me.
“Hang on,” I told him.
“Okay,” Moose replied.
“Not you, Greg. Now tell me what happened.”
“I had a dream that I was in the middle of a forest fire,” Moose said. “When I woke up with a start, I noticed that it was lighter out than it had any reason to be. One glance out the window and I saw that my truck was in flames. I ran downstairs in my nightshirt as Martha called the fire department. Good thing I had a heavy-duty fire extinguisher handy.”
“Were you able to put it out by yourself?” I asked, imagining my grandfather, his knees exposed to the cold air, battling a blaze alone. I had no trouble visualizing it.
“I got the biggest part of it out before the boys came and took care of the rest of it. They made sure it was out before they left, but my truck’s seen better days, that’s for sure.”
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” I asked him.
“I was kind of busy at the time, you know, with the fire and everything,” Moose said, the weariness clearer now than it had been. It reminded me yet again that my grandfather was no longer a young man, despite what he himself believed.
“Of course,” I said. “Greg and I will be there in ten minutes.”
“Victoria, there’s no need for you two to drag yourselves out at this time of night. I wouldn’t have told you until morning, but Martha insisted that I call you as soon as the fire truck left.”
“She was right,” I said. “We’ll see you soon.”
My grandfather was still protesting as I hung up the phone.
As I got out of bed, Greg asked me, “What’s going on?”
“Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
Instead, he got up as well. “Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen. Wherever you’re going this time of night, I’m going with you.”
I thanked him, and as we both hurriedly got dressed, I brought h
im up to speed on what had just happened.
As we were going out the door, he asked, “Should somebody call your dad?”
“I didn’t even think about that,” I said. “You drive, and I’ll call him.”
“That sounds like a plan to me,” he said.
As Greg drove down the darkened streets toward my grandparents’ place, I called my dad’s number. I dreaded waking him up, but I knew that he’d want to know.
He was surprisingly alert when he answered my call. “Victoria?”
“Hi, Dad. Did you hear about Moose’s truck?”
“Mom called me ten minutes ago. We’re already on our way.”
“We’ll see you there, then,” I said, and then I hung up.
“He already knew about it,” I told Greg. “Martha called him.”
“That figures,” Greg said.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, honestly curious by his statement.
“Victoria, this probably isn’t the greatest time to discuss this. Let’s just focus on Moose, and the fact that he’s okay.”
“What else do we have to talk about?” I asked.
“Well, for starters, we could discuss why someone would want to burn your grandfather’s truck up. Is he sure that it wasn’t a squirrel’s nest or something that caught on fire by accident?”
“He seemed pretty clear that it was arson,” I said. “What were you going to say about my grandmother and my dad?”
Greg let out a sigh, and then he said, “You know me; I talk too much when I’m tired. Victoria, your grandfather and your dad are two very different men. Should it be a surprise to anyone that Martha and your dad are close?”
“I never really thought about it that way,” I said.
“That’s because you’re so tight with Moose yourself.”
“Hey, I love my father very much,” I said. Why did I suddenly sound so defensive about it, though?
“Nobody knows that more than I do, but you and Moose are so much alike that it scares me sometimes. Martha can’t help but see that, and neither can your father.”
“You’re right. I need to make more of an effort with my dad,” I said.
“I’m not saying that, either. You two are plenty close. It’s just in a different way. That’s all that I’m saying. Listen, I didn’t mean to start anything.”
“You didn’t,” I said as I touched my husband’s arm lightly. “I admit that sometimes it’s an effort with my dad, but I just thought that was because he was my father, and not my grandfather.”
“When this is all over, you should take your dad out to dinner or a movie, just the two of you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re not angling for a little time away from me, are you?” I asked him with an arched eyebrow. I knew that Greg could tell by my tone of voice that I was just teasing him.
“Why would I want to be away from you one more moment than I had to? You’re quite delightful.”
“You are, too. Thanks, Greg.”
“I’m going to pretend that I know what that’s for, and say you’re welcome.”
“I knew that there was a reason I married you,” I said, my smile warm and open now.
“We’re here,” Greg said solemnly as he pulled into the drive away from the burned-out remnants of my grandfather’s pickup truck. Contrary to what my grandfather had told me over the phone, a small fire truck was still there, and Luke Yates, our fire chief, was manning the sole remaining hose himself. My family and I were seeing a great deal of the fire chief lately, and not under the most pleasant of circumstances.
“How bad is it?” I asked as I approached him.
“I don’t think he’ll ever drive it again, but try telling him that. He’s already called Wayne to come tow it into his shop, and the thing’s barely done smoldering.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Moose said as he approached us.
“It would be hard to be worse,” Greg said with a frown.
From anyone else, that comment might have gotten a stern rebuke, but Moose and my husband were close enough to tell each other the unvarnished truth most of the time. “Maybe, but if anybody can fix it, it’s Wayne,” Moose said.
“I agree,” Greg said as my mother and father drove up.
I made it a point to greet my father first with a solid hug. “Hey, Dad.”
He looked puzzled by my attention. “Victoria, is something wrong?”
My mother said, “Nothing has to be wrong for you to get a hug.”
“I know that,” Dad said, but from the expression on his face, it was still doubtful in his mind. He went over to his father and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Just a little soot and some smoke,” Moose said. “You?”
“I’m fine,” my father said, clearly a little irritated by the question. “How’s your truck?”
“It might be okay,” Moose said.
Dad was about to answer when Wayne drove up in his tow truck. He got out and whistled when he saw Moose’s vehicle. “What happened to you? Squirrels?”
“That’s what I thought,” Greg said.
“No squirrel used gasoline to light my truck on fire,” Moose said. After a moment’s pause, he added, “Well, if one did, we have more problems than a singed truck on our hands.”
“Singed? It looks downright crisp to me,” Wayne said, and then he turned to the fire chief. “Is it even safe to tow yet?”
“You should be fine,” the chief said. It was clear that we weren’t the only ones exhausted from this ordeal. “I wouldn’t park it inside your shop just yet, though.”
“There’s an empty lot next to my shop,” Wayne said. “Maybe I’ll stick it there.”
“Will it be okay?” Moose asked.
Wayne surveyed the truck again. “I think it’s pretty safe to say that there’s not much more harm anyone else can do to it at this point.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a loaner I could drive while you look at mine, do you?” Moose asked.
“No, sorry about that.” Wayne paused, frowned for a moment, and then he added reluctantly, “There is one old truck that’s in nearly as bad a shape as this one now. You wouldn’t want to drive that, would you?”
“Try me,” Moose said with a grin. “I’ll be by in the morning to pick it up, so don’t loan it out to anybody else.”
“Trust me, that’s not going to be a problem. Let me load this up, and I’ll see you then. You might want to call your insurance company and tell them about this, though.”
“It’s already been taken care of,” Martha said calmly. I hadn’t even noticed her approach, and when I saw my grandmother, I noticed that she was right beside my father. Maybe in some ways my husband was more observant than I was.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Has anyone even called the police?”
“Sheriff Croft has already been here,” Moose said. “He just about beat Luke to the scene.”
“Yeah, but I had to drive a fire truck,” the chief said. “All he had to do was drive his squad car.”
“What did he say when he saw it?” I asked Moose.
Before my grandfather answered me, he asked Wayne, “Are you ready to load it up?”
The mechanic got the hint and started attaching cables to what was left of Moose’s truck.
“That means that you don’t need me anymore, either,” Chief Yates said.
Moose offered a hand, which he took. “Thanks for coming.”
“Just part of the service we’re happy to provide,” the fire chief said.
After everyone but family was gone, Moose said, “Why don’t we all go inside and have a cup of coffee? Or do you folks need to get home?”
“We’ve got time,” Dad said, and everyone else agreed.
Once we were all seated around the kitchen table and Martha had coffee brewing, I asked again, “Now that it’s just family, what did the sheriff say?”
“He thought it was serious, and he warned me that we’d better stop our in
vestigation,” Moose said.
“That sounds like the most prudent course of action to me,” Dad said.
“Of course it does,” Moose answered.
“But we’re not going to give up now, are we?” I asked my grandfather plaintively.
He grinned at me before he answered. “What do you think?”
“You’re both crazy; you know that, don’t you?” my dad asked.
“I don’t see that they have any choice,” Martha replied, surprising all of us.
“What do you mean, Mom?” my father asked her. Was there a hint of dismay in the question? He could usually take Martha’s support for granted, but apparently not tonight.
“Whoever did this just made it personal. Do you think they’re going to stop until they’re caught, or will something much more dangerous happen to one of us next? That fire could have just as easily been in this house instead of your father’s truck. Whoever did this must be caught, and they must be caught quickly.”
There was a bit of stunned silence from the rest of us. Only Moose moved, patting his wife’s shoulder gently. I looked at Dad, who seemed to be struggling with what his mother had just said. After a few moments, he clearly came to a decision.
“You’re right.” He turned to my grandfather and me and asked, “So, how do you two plan to bring this arsonist and killer to justice?”
“That’s the problem,” I said, voicing what I was sure that Moose was thinking as well. “At the moment, we don’t have a single clue how to do it.”
“Then I suggest you find one, and fast,” my mother said. “In the meantime, I have to get up in a few hours, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to my bed.”
I stood as well. “I need a little more sleep myself.” I turned to Moose and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m as mad as a wet hornet,” he said. “Does that qualify as okay?”
“I’d rather have you be mad than defeated,” I said. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
Moose nodded. “You bet we will.”
As we drove home, Greg asked me softly, “Do you have any ideas about catching this bad guy?”
A Burned Out Baker: Classic Diner Mystery #7 (The Classic Diner Mysteries) Page 15