Star-Spangled Rejects (The Heavenly Grille Café Book 3)

by J. T. Livingston

  “Oh, hell!” Michael giggled again. “Look—she didn’t die while we were gone.” He let out an exaggerated, insincere sigh.

  “It’s going to take more than a bunch of snotty-nosed, rich kids to kill me!” Stella’s cracked voice didn’t match her feigned bravado.

  “Sit down, old lady,” Kirk instructed. “Next to him,” he motioned to the sofa that Jimmy occupied.

  Jimmy saw the bruise that had formed quickly on the old woman’s face. “What did you do to her?” His voice shook with anger more than fear.

  Michael jumped up off the sofa so that Stella could sit next to Jimmy.

  Stella dragged the long chain with her and sank into the plush sofa. She turned and stared hard at Jimmy. “Who are you? I don’t remember you being there the night these three killed poor Norman.”

  Kirk took three steps forward and glared at the old woman. “Oh, he was there alright. Jimmy-boy was our lookout guy, you might say.”

  Stella continued to stare at Jimmy. “You’re younger than them.” She nodded slowly and squinted her eyes, almost as if she were remembering that night all over again. “Yeah, there was a fourth one, but you were too far away. I couldn’t make out your face.”

  Jimmy shook his head and glared at Kirk. “What are you doing, Kirk? Why is she here? Why am I here? What are you going to do to us?” For the first time since they arrived at the lake house, he was beginning to think that he might be there longer than just the weekend. For the first time, he was beginning to think that he might not be leaving the lake house alive.

  Kirk propped a leg on top of the coffee table and removed his knife from the sheath attached to his ankle. He dropped his foot to the floor. His move toward them was slow and deliberate. He watched Jimmy and the old woman closely and smiled. It was not a friendly smile. “Yeah…about that…”

  Thomas O’Brady pulled into the Heavenly Grille Café parking lot at 9:00; the flashing neon marque indicated that the café was open until 11:00. It had been a long day, and he had stayed late to complete a week’s worth of paper work. He could have done it at home, but he never liked to take his work home with him. He always did his best to keep his work life and home life separate; he felt that he owed that to his wife and children.

  His wife had been in bed all day with the flu, and her sister had been with her, taking care of the 6-year old twin boys, who both looked like miniature versions of their father. He had called home before he left and offered to stop and pick up some vegetable soup from the café that everyone at work had been talking about. He knew that his boys would be in bed asleep, but he thought the soup might help his wife, Dottie, feel better.

  A lot of the late-night customers had placed orders to go, so there were a few empty tables when Thomas walked through the front door. He looked above his head and smiled when he heard the angel chimes sound.

  Max saw the policeman enter the café and grinned down at Bertie, who was standing beside him. “Hey, look, Bertie—fresh bait!” He laughed out loud and took the anticipated punch to his shoulder. “He doesn’t look familiar to me.”

  Bertie stood on her tip toes and peered through the serving hatch. “Hmmm…nope, I don’t believe I’ve seen him in here before. A cop, huh?” She punched Max again and grinned. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself in now, big fella?”

  Doug greeted the police officer and offered him the corner booth. “I’ll bring you some coffee, Officer. Someone will be right over to take your order.”

  “Thank you,” Thomas replied, removing his hat and placing it next to him on the comfortable bench seat. He looked around at the scattering of people, all of whom seemed extremely serious about the food they were eating. He didn’t see any menus on the tables, but the enticing aromas quickly engulfed him—reminding him, that he had not eaten anything since breakfast. He saw a short, energetic woman coming toward him. He tried not to laugh at the bouncing halo headband that bobbled furiously with each step she took.

  “Well, hello there!” Bertie grinned. “I haven’t seen you in here before, Officer. The name is Bertie. What would yours be?”

  Thomas would have sworn that he was talking to the late actress, Shirley Booth. The resemblance between the character, “Hazel,” she played, and this spunky waitress was simply uncanny. He grinned and started to stand up for a proper introduction.

  Bertie pushed him back down. “There’s no need for chivalry here, but I do appreciate the effort, believe me. I swear, the young men of today—you would think hell would freeze over before they opened a door for a lady, wouldn’t you?” She leaned down and punched him on his right shoulder. She looked at his name tag. “O’Brady, huh? You got a first name, Officer O’Brady?”

  Thomas rubbed the back of his head and grinned again. He liked this woman, and he immediately felt right at home at the Heavenly Grille Café. “Yes, ma’am—it’s Thomas.”

  “Tom, huh?” Bertie punched him again.

  He rubbed his shoulder and shook his head. “No, ma’am—I prefer to go by Thomas—not Tom. I never cared much for having people’s given names shortened.” He grinned at her again. “So, is Bertie short for something else?”

  Bertie raised her brows and nodded. “It is, but we won’t get in to that right now.” She sensed Doug behind her. “Here’s Doug—that’s short for Douglas—with your coffee, but I’ll get the rest of your order for you.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Okay…do you have a menu? I was hoping to take some vegetable soup home to my wife. She’s down with the flu and some folks at work said this place had the best vegetable soup they’ve ever tasted.”

  Doug placed the large coffee mug on the table and provided a small metal pitcher filled with cream, and another small metal bowl filled with sugar cubes. Angel wings were etched into each bowl. “It’s fresh—just made it. Enjoy your meal, officer.” He turned to leave but leaned down and whispered into Bertie’s ear, “Be nice, or Max will have him arrest you!”

  Bertie reached behind her and swatted Doug on what most women agreed was his best feature; she couldn’t have reached his broad shoulder at this angle if she had wanted to. She turned back to the police officer and rested one hand on her ample hip. “Vegetable soup is a staple here, especially in the winter time, so that’s an easy one; but, I don’t think soup is going to cut it for you. A man your size needs some real food. About a menu—we don’t fool with them. I can usually look at someone and tell what they need or want to eat.”

  “Is that so?” Thomas shook his head and smiled. “What do you think I need or want?”

  “Well, you’re in luck, because Max made his famous stuffed cabbage today.”

  “Stuffed cabbage?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never had stuffed cabbage before?” Bertie punched him again on the shoulder. “Trust me, if you love cabbage, sausage, ground beef, tomatoes, and sauerkraut, then you’re going to love Max’s stuffed cabbage. The rolls are pretty big, but I think you should be able to eat about three of them. They come with loaded mashed potatoes and stir-fried green beans with bacon and onion in them. Oh, and today’s dessert is Max’s famous, seven-layer coconut-crème cake—first time he’s made it since we opened this location. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to Heaven when you taste it.” She raised her brows in query. “Sound good to you?”

  Thomas’s mouth was watering just hearing about the meal. “Yes, ma’am—it all sounds fine; but, if you could make all that to go, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to get that soup home to my wife before she turns in for the night.”

  The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his conversation with the waitress. It was dispatch saying he had an important phone call. They patched the call through to him just as Bertie turned to leave.

  “Yes—this is Officer O’Brady,” Thomas began the conversation. “Who? Oh, yes—I do remember you, Mr. Benton—Jason, isn’t it?”

  Bertie made a sharp, 180-degree turn and went back to the officer’s table. “Is that Jason Benton?”

&n
bsp; Thomas was surprised and confused. He held up his index finger to silence Bertie and continued listening to what Jason Benton was telling him. He nodded after a couple of minutes and said, “I’ve got your location, yes. I have to make a quick stop first, but I should be able to get there within the hour. Yes—remain where you are. I will come to you. Good-bye.”

  Bertie exhibited much more patience than anyone would have thought she could, but she was about to burst. “We have a Jason Benton who lives in the apartment above the café. Nice-looking fella, in his early thirties, good manners…is that who you were talking to?”

  “I’m not sure if we’re talking about the same person or not, ma’am—Bertie—but, yes, your description does match that of the man I was talking to.”

  “We’ve been waiting for him to show back up here today, but nobody has heard from him since after breakfast. Is he alright?”

  “He sounded fine,” Thomas reported as he took out a pad and wrote down the address Jason had provided him. “He’s at a friend’s house and has some information he wanted to give me about a case…”

  “You’re talking about Skipper’s case, aren’t you?” Bertie asked excitedly. “That must mean that y’all are still looking into it then, that you’re not convinced that Skipper did what that old biddy accused him of doing.”

  “I’m really not at liberty to discuss any of this with you—Bertie. I really need to get that soup home to my wife…”

  Doug came walking toward them with three bags in his hands. “Here you go, Officer O’Brady. Please tell Jason that we’re here if he needs us.”

  It did not escape Thomas that he had not shared his name, or his food order, with the young man who placed the bags of food on the table. He also wondered how the man called Doug knew about his call with Jason—he had been too far away to hear anything—but, he was in a hurry now, and didn’t have the luxury of time to ask those questions. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but stopped when Bertie punched him on the shoulder for good measure.

  “Your money is no good here. Now, go on—scoot! Go take care of your wife and go talk with our Jason. You tell him he needs to get back here and update us on what’s going on, you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Thomas smiled. “Thank you for the food. I’ll be sure to pass along your message to Mr. Benton.”

  The angel chimes sounded again on his way out the door, and he was still shaking his head in wonder when he pulled out of the parking lot. “No, that wasn’t strange…” he exhaled and lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-smile. “Not strange at all.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Missing Person Report

  A car pulled into the Crennan driveway at 9:45; its headlights shone brightly into the kitchen where Cheryl and Jason still sat at the kitchen table.

  Cheryl jumped up. “That must be him—the police officer you talked to.” She jerked open the kitchen door before Thomas had a chance to knock on it. Cheryl’s look of dismay was evident when she saw a man in street clothes smiling down at her. “Oh, I thought you were someone else. May I help you?”

  Jason came to stand behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders; he gave them a gentle squeeze. “Cheryl, this is Officer Thomas O’Brady. He’s off duty but offered to come over and talk to you about Jimmy. Officer O’Brady, this is Cheryl Crennan.”

  “Oh,” Cheryl nodded. “Please, come inside Officer O’Brady. I thought they would send a real cop.”

  “Well,” Thomas grinned as he stepped inside and looked around the small but homey kitchen. “I am a real cop, Mrs. Crennan. Our Dispatch operator patched Mr. Benton’s call through to me when I was on my way home this evening. I took some food home to my wife, and changed clothes, while I was there; but, if you would rather talk to a real cop—one in uniform—I would be happy to have someone come out.” He winked at Jason and smiled again.

  ‘It’s Miss, and I’m so sorry,” Cheryl shook her head. “I didn’t mean that you weren’t a real copy; I guess I was just expecting someone in uniform. If you’re off duty, then why are you here? They could have sent someone else, couldn’t they?”

  “They could have, Cheryl, but I specifically asked for Officer O’Brady when I called. Let’s all sit down at the table,” Jason offered. He guided Cheryl back to her seat. “We have a fresh pot of coffee made, Officer O’Brady. Would you like a cup?”

  “No, thanks,” Thomas shook his head. “It will keep me up all night and I’m off work for the rest of the weekend. I have rambunctious 6-year old twin boys to keep out of my wife’s hair while she recuperates from the flu.”

  “You have sons?” Cheryl asked as she sat down and picked up Jimmy’s cell phone and the note he left her. “Then you won’t think I’m crazy to think that something has happened to my son, Jimmy.” She waited for the officer to sit down and then passed him the note. “I found that on the table when I got home from work, almost two hours ago now.

  Jason sat down next to Cheryl and waited for the officer to read the note. He had no doubt that O’Brady would have the same initial reaction that he had when he first read the note.

  Thomas shook his head and stared at Cheryl. “You’re obviously reading more into this note than what I am seeing, Miss Crennan. It sounds as though your son is staying with friends for the weekend. It says that he will be home on Sunday night.”

  Cheryl was shaking her head adamantly from side to side. “No, no—you don’t understand. See the bottom of the note, where he has the XOXOXXX ? That’s a code that the two of us came up with a few years ago.”

  “What kind of a code?” Thomas asked.

  “A sort of secret warning code,” Cheryl explained. “It was our way to let the other know that something was wrong.” Cheryl handed Jimmy’s cell phone to the officer. “Plus, Jimmy would never, ever leave this house without his cell phone.”

  “Most teenagers wouldn’t,” the officer agreed. “Still…anyone reading this would assume that it is what it appears to be—your son is spending the weekend with friends.”

  “You’re not going to help me, are you?” Cheryl pushed up from the table. “Fine, then, please leave so that I can go look for my son myself!”

  Thomas stood up and touched her shoulder. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to help you.”

  Jason ran his fingers over his buzz-cut head and exhaled. “Isn’t there something that says we have to wait 24-to-48 hours before filing a missing person report? I mean, that’s why I called you instead of reporting it right away. I thought there might be something you could do while we’re waiting for enough time to lapse.”

  Thomas shook his head. “No, that whole 24-to-48 hour thing only happens on television and the movies. There is no waiting period required before filing a missing person report. No, as soon as you suspect a child or adult is missing, it should be reported to the police. I will call this report in myself before I leave here tonight.”

  Cheryl lunged toward the officer and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried against his shirt.

  Thomas held Cheryl out at arms’ length. “No thanks is necessary, Miss Crennan. I will need to keep the note, and Jimmy’s cell phone. Maybe you could look through it and see if you recognize any names or numbers on it, so that we can follow up with some of his friends. I’ll need a recent photo of him, also. If you could tell me what he was wearing when you last saw him, give me his height, weight, any identifiable birthmarks—that sort of thing.”

  Cheryl wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and looked up at the kind officer with the red hair and green eyes. “Let me check his room. I know what he had on when I left for work, but he could have changed clothes. I have a good picture of him in my room. I’ll be right back.”

  Jason waited until he knew that Cheryl was out of earshot. “I’m really sorry to have bothered you, but I didn’t think it would be looked in to until after Sunday if we called it in to the police department.”

 
“I’m glad you called,” Thomas said. “May I ask what your involvement is with this family, Mr. Benton?”

  Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, long-story-short, I just found out a few days ago that Jimmy Crennan is my son.”

  “Really?” Thomas sat back down. “You had no idea?”

  “Nope,” Jason joined him at the table. “Trust me, it came as a total shock to me; but, Jimmy—he’s a really good kid. He and his mom are really tight, too. If she said that he left her a warning code, then I have to believe that something isn’t right.”

  Thomas nodded. “You said on the phone that you, also, had some information about Gordon Whiting’s case.”

  Jason looked puzzled for a minute before he realized who the officer was talking about. “You mean, Skipper?” He looked past the officer and could see Cheryl moving about in her bedroom. “Yeah, I do. I was looking for Stella again in town earlier today, and I came across another homeless man who—how do I say this—shared a cardboard box with Stella at one time. He traded some information for food, and told me that Stella told him she was staying at some motel on the outskirt of town—near a bar called—the Pickled Possum.”

  “That’s a bad side of town,” O’Brady nodded. “The Roadway Inn—we get a couple of calls every weekend about fighting or shots fired at the Pickled Possum. So, the old man thinks Ms. Seiber might be staying at the Roadway, huh?”

  “That’s what he said,” Jason confirmed. “I thought it might be worth a shot—that, maybe, you could check it out? I would have done it myself, but it’s hard for me to get around with no car.”

  “It’s an ongoing investigation, Mr. Benton, so you really need to stay out of it. If I can’t get there myself this weekend, I’ll have one of the other officers working the case to check it out. We really do need to talk to Ms. Seiber again. We have her taped recording of the events that happened the night that Norman Weissman was killed, but there are some parts of her story that we need to double check. Thank you for the information.”