Two Lethal Lies

by Annie Solomon

Two days later, a grizzled guy named Crick, who was eighty if he was a day, stopped by and offered Mitch a job at a small restaurant he owned in the dwindling downtown strip. His grill man had gone into rehab and wasn’t expected back anytime soon.

  The hours were good—only breakfast and lunch—so Mitch could pick up Julia from school, and Crick agreed to pay him in cash. Mitch told him he wouldn’t be there past Christmas, but the two months would give Crick time to find a more permanent replacement.

  They shook hands, and Mitch started work the next day.

  The following week, the first murder happened.

  6

  Three waitresses handled the morning shift at Crick’s. The oldest, Loritta, had been there forever and practically ran the operation. A lanky sixty-year old with splayed feet and a pile of graying hair beehived on top of her head, she shared her full-time duties with Denise.

  “Neesy,” she corrected when Loritta introduced her. “Neesy Brown.” She had the fine, milky skin of some lucky redheads, the kind of complexion that radiated from within, innocent and pure. But there was nothing innocent about the expression in those green eyes. Or the way her turquoise uniform sat on those ample hips. And when she caught him looking, she broke into a mischievous grin and extended her hand. “Well, aren’t you a welcome addition.”

  Loritta gave her a light slap on the arm. “Now, don’t go eating the boy up before he’s had a chance to ripen.”

  The third waitress, Mary Nell, worked only the morning shift. A tiny blonde with stark Appalachian cheekbones, she was skinny all over except for the big baby bump under her apron. She smiled shyly when they were introduced.

  “Nice meeting you,” she said.

  “Twins.” Neesy winked, and Mary Nell blushed.

  “Now, we’ll all get along just fine,” Loritta put in, and gave him a purposeful stare. “Just keep the eggs and pancakes coming and we’ll do right by you.” The bell over the door tinkled, signaling the first customer of the morning. “Okay, girls.” She waved over her head. “Here they come.”

  It didn’t take him long to get into the rhythm. By the time the breakfast crowd slowed, Mitch was practically dancing to the old moves—cracking eggs, flipping pancakes, pressing sausage patties. If someone had asked him fifteen years ago what he’d be doing now, he would never have predicted this. But he was good at it, and that gave satisfaction. Especially when Neesy stuck her head in the kitchen.

  “They’re liking whatever it is you did to the French toast.”

  “Cinnamon in the egg batter.”

  “Clever you.” Her face dimpled with her smile, and she disappeared into the hullabaloo behind the swinging doors. But she left behind an impression. Sharp, spicy citrus and a wave of feminine vitality. Not one of those skinny, New York model types. At least, not the kind he knew with their boyish figures and barely there breasts. She harkened to the time when hips were fashionable. Lush was the word that came to mind. And temptation.

  Maybe it was the fluff of red hair curling around her pretty face. Or the dimple in her chin. Or the turquoise uniform—cut a little too low and a little too tight.

  He warned himself against that uniform. Casual flirtations could be lethal, and that was all he had to offer. So he’d made it one of his rules to stay away altogether. But every now and again, in the shadows of his heart, he wished for more. For someone to confide in. Someone who could take the past onto her shoulders and share the burden. But in the end, it was always easier alone. Safer and easier. He and his hand had a fine sex life when necessary. And no one got hurt.

  At eleven, Mary Nell stopped to say good-bye and grab a few bacon scraps. “You don’t mind, do you?” Her voice was high and childlike, and she looked to be around thirteen. “There’s a stray in the alley I’ve been feeding.” She blushed again.

  “Not my dime.” He wiped his hands on his apron and followed her out the back door.

  Waiting for her was a skinny black dog, part Rottweiler, part Lab, part he didn’t know what. The animal wore an eager, expectant look, and he barked when he saw Mary Nell. She laughed. “Hello to you, too.”

  She knelt, leaning over her belly to lay the meat on the ground, and the dog lapped it up. She smiled and rubbed the animal behind the ears.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Mitch said. “Doesn’t look like he’s had a bath in a while.”

  “I know, poor thing.”

  “Why don’t you take him home and clean him up?”

  “Oh, Boyd wouldn’t like that,” she answered immediately.

  “Boyd?”

  “My husband.”

  “Doesn’t like dogs?”

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Not much.”

  “Hope he likes babies,” Mitch teased.

  She grew quiet, and he realized he’d touched a sore spot.

  “He will. Once they’re here, I’m sure he will.”

  Mitch was instantly sorry. “Of course he will.” He helped her rise, and she gave him another blushing smile.

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow.” She waved to the dog. “Bye, you.” The dog started to follow her, but she stopped and shook her head. “Stay here, now. Go on. You stay here.” She took a step and the dog took a step.

  She laughed, but the sound was interrupted by a bellow from the open end of the alley.

  “What the hell are you doing, Mary Nell? I told you to leave that damn dog alone.” A hulk of a man barreled toward them. He had a patch of black hair on his chin and wore a denim jacket cut off at the arms.

  “Oh, God,” Mary Nell said under her breath. “I’m sorry, Boyd, I was just leaving—”

  Boyd grabbed her arm. “You should have been leaving ten minutes ago. I been waiting for you, and it’s fucking cold out there.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  In a former life, Mitch would have walked away, leaving the two of them to sort it out. But the sin of indifference had come with a price too heavy to pay again. “You okay, Mary Nell?”

  Just then, the back door opened and Neesy spilled into the alley. “Mary Nell, Boyd’s—oh…” She stopped short. “Too late.”

  “You keep your nose out of this, Neesy. You and the new man over there.”

  “Happy to oblige,” Mitch said. “When you take your hands off your wife. And apologize for the language.”

  Boyd’s face turned blotchy with red. “Like hell I will.” He yanked her close, and Mary Nell uttered a little scream of pain.

  Neesy started toward them, but Mitch stepped in front of her. Mary Nell shook her head desperately.

  “It’s all right,” she said quickly to Mitch. And in a lower voice to her husband, “Please, let me go, Boyd.”

  “Shut up,” Boyd said to her. “I told you not to play with that shit-eating dog. When are you going to listen to me?”

  “Maybe when you start treating her with a little respect,” Mitch said.

  Boyd turned his nasty, narrow-eyed gaze on Mitch. “What did you say?”

  Mitch knew what was coming. But first he had to get Mary Nell out of the way. “You heard me. Or are you deaf as well as dumb?”

  That did the trick. Boyd released Mary Nell to come after Mitch.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch saw Neesy run to the pregnant woman and gather her up and out of the way just as Boyd swung a massive fist. He was a wide-necked troll, and trolls usually weren’t light on their feet, but Boyd moved faster than Mitch expected. He caught Mitch on the side of his chin.

  The punch sent a shock wave up Mitch’s jaw and into his neck and head. He stumbled back, cursing, but before he could engage again, the dog leaped, barking and growling and snapping his jaws. He latched on to Boyd’s calf, and the monster man squealed in pain.

  Mary Nell screamed, “Oh, no, don’t. Don’t!” and Neesy screamed, “Give it to him! Give it to him!” and Mitch rubbed his chin, enjoying the sight of Boyd swatting, dancing, and trying to fend off the animal. Finally he landed a lucky punch that sent the dog flying.

&nb
sp; The animal landed with a yelp, but he’d done enough damage. Boyd eyed them with malice, but he didn’t budge, panting hard and clearly not wanting to start things up if it meant fighting the dog again.

  Mary Nell ran over. “Bad dog,” she scolded, and to Boyd, “Did he hurt you?” She bent down to look at the jagged hole in his pants, and he swatted her away, too. She put an arm around him. “Can we go home now?” She led him out of the alley, the dog growling behind them.

  The minute they were out of sight, the dog began to whine. After the animal’s heroism, Mitch gave in and kneaded him behind the ear. “Yeah, I know,” he told the dog. “I’d follow her home, too, if I were you.”

  Neesy stared after the two of them. “God, I hate that man. He’s always been a heavy breather, but ever since Mary Nell got pregnant, he’s been meaner than mean. I offered her a place to stay, but she keeps finding excuses for him. One of these days, we’ll find her at the bottom of the stairs and she’ll lose those babies.”

  Neesy’s words hit him with an unexpected wallop, and an image burst inside his head. Not of Mary Nell, but another woman. Lying on the floor, bloodied and broken. The sharp ripple of memory took him by surprise. He leaned against the back wall to steady himself.

  “You okay?” Neesy reached up to finger his jaw. “You’re going to have a nice bruise there.”

  A thrill of electricity from her touch gave him another small shock. Man, it had been a long time since a woman’s touch had set him off like that. Too long.

  Casually, he ducked his head and stepped away. “Maybe Mary Nell should work a full day,” he said. “Keep her away from that lout more.”

  “I tried. She wouldn’t dare.”

  “Then maybe I should stop by now and again,” he said grimly. “Check up on her.”

  “Boyd won’t like that.”

  “We’re not interested in what Boyd likes, are we?”

  She looked him over like she was trying to figure him out. “What’s in it for you?”

  He gave her the same look back. “I don’t know, Neesy. You offered her a place to stay. What’s in it for you?”

  She flushed, caught. “Nothing but trouble,” she grumbled.

  “I’m familiar with that.”

  “Hey, you two!” Loritta’s voice came from inside the kitchen, shortly followed by her beehived head poking out through the back screen door. “We got lunch coming. Ketchup bottles to fill.”

  Neesy followed Loritta back inside, where the lunch crowd kept her hands and feet occupied. But while she took orders for BLTs and burgers, she couldn’t stop thinking about the new grill man and what he’d done for Mary Nell. Neesy had known a lot of men in her day, but none of them would have stepped up the way Mitch had.

  It intrigued her, and she kept finding excuses to go into the kitchen to see what else was behind the rugged lines of his face. Not that the face and body weren’t reason enough. Mitch wasn’t movie-star gorgeous, but he had nice, wide shoulders, and there was a solidity about him that was sexier than handsome.

  But that wasn’t it, either. It was what he’d done.

  Not that he had to do anything to pique her interest. Neesy was famous for her men. Then again, after the last disaster, she’d sworn off the opposite sex. Practically taken a pledge.

  And here she was sniffing around again.

  She delivered a grilled cheese and fries, caught herself eyeing the kitchen door, and tore her gaze away. She should slap herself upside the head, that’s what she should do.

  Crick’s closed at three, and by three-fifteen, the place was empty. Neesy and Loritta carried the last of the dirty dishes into the kitchen, but when they got there, Mitch was gone.

  The two women exchanged glances. Loritta raised her brows. “That didn’t last long.”

  Neesy dumped the plates and cups into the commercial dishwasher. “And to think, all afternoon I was fixing to pin a medal on him.” She surveyed the mess he’d left—filthy grill included. “He couldn’t wait to pop Boyd Collier one, but give him a dirty kitchen to clean and he runs like the Devil’s chasing him.”

  How wrong could she have been about a man? Judging by the last couple, plenty. But after what happened in the alley, she thought Mitch was different. Then again, maybe there was no “different” when it came to men—they were all made of the same useless stuff.

  With a sigh, Loritta handed her own stack of plates to Neesy. “Well, better get at it. Won’t be the first time. And better get in touch with Old Man Crick. He’ll need to find us a new grill man.”

  Loritta found the grill brush, but Neesy tried to take it from her. “Why don’t I scrape and you phone?” Cleaning the grill was hard work, and Loritta was tired.

  But the older woman elbowed Neesy away and began working on the grill. “I ain’t dead yet.”

  “I wish you’d let me do that.”

  “I wish you weren’t here at all. You know your mama wanted you to get out of this town. Go to college someday. Be something.”

  Neesy flipped through the book of numbers hanging by the phone, looking for Crick’s. “I am something. Don’t need no piece of paper to tell me that. And there’s nothing wrong with this town.”

  “Ha!”

  “Well, what do you think is waiting out there?” Neesy waved her arm in the direction of the back door. “Same old meanness and hurt. Only bigger.”

  She tried to shrug off Loritta’s words, but they stung anyway. Since high school, Loritta had been friends with Neesy’s mama, had seen her through her teenage pregnancy and the shotgun marriage to the man Neesy had called Daddy. Loritta had been through all the ups and downs—mostly downs—of her mama’s life. When she got sick, she made Loritta promise to look after Neesy, and it was a promise Loritta never seemed to forget.

  But Neesy had made no promises. Truth was, she didn’t have big dreams. She never took to school; she liked mixing and mingling more than books. Was it a terrible sin to be nearing the big three-oh and still waiting tables?

  She looked over at Loritta, who was doing the same at twice Neesy’s age. But Loritta had family. Uncle Max might not be the best breadwinner in the world, but he was kind. He didn’t drink, didn’t hit anyone. If something needed fixing, he fixed it. It wasn’t a grand life, but it was a good one. It was the kind of life Neesy had only known from the outside, and in her secret heart of hearts, it was all she really wanted.

  Trouble was, the harder she tried to make it happen, the further away she got. She was always jumping in before testing the temperature or the depth of the water. But no more. She was off men for a while. Good thing, too. Lord, she was disappointed in Mitch. And grateful she hadn’t made more of a fool of herself over him.

  Neesy was on the phone with Crick when the swinging door between the kitchen and restaurant creaked. And who should appear but the man himself, hands on hips, glaring at Loritta.

  “Back away from the grill, woman!” The bruise Neesy had predicted bloomed over his cheek, but the corners of his mouth were turned up, and beneath the glare was the gleam of humor. “What are you doing? Trying to take my job away?”

  From behind him came a dark-haired sprite. The child—it was a child—was munching on a waffle smeared with jam. She strolled in like she’d been born there, hopped up on a stool by the prep counter, and said, “No one gets between Mitch and his grill.”

  Neesy was as shocked as Loritta. Both of them stood there like boobies, gaping. Mitch grinned, and Neesy quickly told Crick, “Never mind,” and hung up the phone.

  Mitch threw on his apron and took the grill brush away from Loritta. “Thought I’d flown the coop?”

  “Well, you weren’t here.”

  “Sorry. Had to pick up Jules from school. Julia, this is Loritta, who runs the place, and that is Neesy, her second-in-command. Mary Nell already went home, so you’ll have to meet her another day. Ladies, my daughter, Julia.”

  Loritta beamed. “My goodness, no one said anything about… Well, good Lord, it’s nice to meet
you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Julia said through a mouthful.

  Neesy couldn’t think of anything to say. She couldn’t think at all. She stood in the middle of the kitchen like an empty pot or a dry pan. If Loritta hadn’t poked her in the rib with an elbow, she would probably still be standing there.

  “Uh… Julia’s a… a beautiful name,” Neesy finally said.

  The girl shrugged. “It’s all right. But Jules is pretty good, too.” She swung her feet and popped the last of the waffle in her mouth. “You have red hair. Does everyone in this town have red hair?”

  Neesy shot Mitch a confused look.

  “Sara Jean Blunt is one of Julia’s few acquaintances,” Mitch explained. “Another redhead.”

  “I see.” And at last, she did. The whole town had heard about Mitch rescuing Sara Jean from the Forbidden River. And now he’d rescued Mary Nell from Boyd. He really was a hero—of course he wouldn’t have left them in the lurch.

  Just then, Mitch attacked the grill, his arm muscles expanding and contracting as he worked, making as attractive a picture of male beauty as Neesy had ever seen. Now that he’d redeemed himself, it seemed perfectly acceptable to stare.

  And yet, there was something else in that kitchen that captured her attention.

  A kid. The new grill man had a kid. A few of Neesy’s exes had kids. But none they picked up from school. Or saw much, if at all.

  “You live with your dad?” she asked.

  Julia gave her a puzzled look. “Sure.”

  “Where’s your mama?” Loritta asked.

  There was a snag in Mitch’s strokes over the grill, but the question didn’t seem to unsettle Julia. “Oh,” she said matter-of-factly, “she’s dead.”

  A twinge of pity hit Neesy. “I’m sorry.”

  Another shrug. “It’s okay. She died just after I was born, so I never knew her.” As if to underscore her detachment, she jumped down from the stool, opened the big refrigerator, and helped herself to a glass of milk. She gulped down a third, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip, and eyed the adults over the glass as though waiting for someone to say something.