Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1)

by Patricia Lee Macomber

  “What does this mean?” Diane asked.

  Logan and Rick exchanged a meaningful glance. “I think it means that somebody else has jurisdiction now,” Logan said.

  “Originally, I thought it might be somebody involved down at the cemetery. Like maybe the mayor or somebody might be implicated and they told Dooley to drop the case. But his body language didn’t give me any of that. He reacted to the suggestion of a higher agency, but I couldn’t tell which one.” Rachel frowned, pushed her salad away and started on her spaghetti.

  Rick, noting the confusion on Diane’s face, smiled and chuckled. “My wife is like a human lie detector. She really should have been a profiler. I once tried to throw her a surprise birthday party. She was there to open the door for the first guest.”

  Rachel laughed at the memory. It was true. She had a way of just sensing lies.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” Macy asked, accusatorially.

  “Well, I guess instead of trying to find Horace’s killer, I’ll focus on finding Mike…if that’s something you’re still interested in, Diane. If not, I’ll drop it too.”

  Diane nodded and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Oh yes. After that note you showed me, I just have to find out what happened to him. It won’t affect my plans either way, but I have to know.”

  “There we have it,” Rachel said. “I’ll concentrate on finding Mike and forget all about Horace, the cemetery and the midnight marauders.”

  Rick leaned over and hugged Rachel’s shoulders, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Sherlock.”

  “Yea, yea. But will you bail me out if I fall off the wagon and get thrown in the pokey?”

  “No. But I will post your mug shots on the internet.”

  Rachel pulled the front door open later that night and headed straight for her computer. No feeding cats, no drink, no potty break. There was only the computer and whatever background noise existed in the world.

  Rick had seen her like that many times. She was a woman possessed, so focused on the tasks at hand that she might as well be the only person on the planet. It would last exactly as long as it took her to solve her mystery, then she would return to her normal, convivial self.

  “That’s okay,” Rick said to the air. “I’ll take care of the cats. Don’t you bother yourself.” He expected no answer and received none, so he continued. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine when I come back. I assume the Pinot Noir is okay?” He waited for several beats, then continued. “That’s what I thought.”

  Rachel was still as stone, the only part of her body in motion was her fingers. She found three more databases to search, then realized that she could try a few more image programs to run the pictures through.

  Several hours later, Rachel yawned and slid in between the sheets. She was exhausted and still had nothing to show for her efforts. There was nothing left to do but snuggle next to Rick and get a few hours’ sleep.

  By the time the alarm sounded the next morning, the streets were rivers and the gutters had turned into waterfalls. Rachel frowned and shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. She heard Rick behind her, stumbling into the bathroom and fumbling with his things.

  The morning ablutions were completed automatically, no thought required. Morgan Fairclaws and Jean Clawed van Damme were oddly absent, though the break from tripping over them was a relief. Rick and Rachel swapped places so that she could get dressed and ready for work. Then they convened back in the kitchen, guzzling the last few swallows of coffee in a feeble attempt at waking up.

  Rick set his mug in the sink and swiped the car keys off the counter. There would be no healthy walk this morning, just a nice, dry ride.

  Rachel yawned every few minutes and rubbed at her eyes. Missing sleep was getting to be a nasty habit and she was starting to feel the effects in spades. The rain would no doubt keep a lot of the customers at bay and while that was bad for business, it was very good for Rachel.

  As karma would have it, they were the first to arrive at the diner and with a moan, Rachel began filling napkin holders and marrying ketchup bottles. She tried to find some energy in a cup of strong coffee, but it was elusive at best.

  She had almost finished her opening rituals when Macy and Diane stepped through the door together. Rachel raised an eyebrow at them, then forced her cheeks back into a smile.

  “Good morning, ladies. Nice of you to join us.”

  “Sorry, Rach,” Macy yawned. “We were up late last night.”

  “The two of you? Together? You had a girl’s night and you didn’t invite me?” Rachel mock pouted and then smiled.

  “We called, but Rick said you were busy with something.” Macy hung up her coat and tossed her purse in the office. “We were watching Steel Magnolias and The Notebook last night.”

  “Oh, sorry I missed that.” Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head. Just then, the bell over the door clanged and Rachel glanced in its general direction. “Good morning. Take a seat wherever you like.”

  It was still a half hour before they usually opened but Rachel had never once had the audacity to throw someone out of her diner for being too early. She didn’t recognize the man and his countenance and demeanor screamed “out-of-towner” but she kept it to herself, deciding that she just didn’t have any more room for another mystery on her plate.

  “Diane, you’re up.” Rachel tilted her head toward the customer and winked. Then she started filling the shakers.

  Her assessment of the customers’ ebb and flow had been way off. Most of the people trapped downtown because of work decided to eat in the diner that day. Those who normally ate at the food truck by the park came to the diner instead. Still more people came in to get out of the rain.

  By lunch time, the three girls were scurrying across the diner, wishing they had another waitress to lend a hand. It left the waitresses exhausted but the register full.

  At one, Rachel dropped onto the stool by the register and swiped at her forehead with the back of one hand. “I’m going to go to the bank before my break. I’m not comfortable leaving all this here.”

  Logan stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron and pulling it off. “I’ll give you a lift. I have to go down to the parts store and get a new valve for that dishwasher sprayer.”

  “Awesome. I appreciate it.” She finished stuffing the bills into the bank bag, leaving just enough to make change for the rest of the day. “Back in a flash, guys,” she announced to the diner in general as she grabbed her umbrella.

  Outside, the sidewalks were steaming and the awnings wept. The rain had slowed to a mere mist, but everything everywhere was completely sodden. Rachel’s shoes made little squeaks and splats as she made her way to the truck, ducking into it with a sigh.

  “We haven’t had a rain like this in a long time,” Logan announced as he started the car.

  “I guess we were due.”

  Rachel hugged herself against the pervasive humidity and watched the traffic go by. Logan seemed fresh as a daisy; obviously the only one who got any sleep last night. She was jealous.

  The bank was four blocks away and Logan slid up to the light just in time to see a car pull out of the very first space. He held his breath and counted until the light changed, then guided the truck easily into the space.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said.

  “It could take a while. It looks like there’s a line.”

  “That’s okay. I wouldn’t leave my little buddy Rachel to walk home in the rain.” He reached out and play-punched her shoulder. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy my tunes.”

  She laughed then, the first real and comforting thing she’d heard in days. Logan was funny by nature and when he launched into his cartoon voices, he could rob you of your breath. “I’ll try to be fast.”

  She dashed through the ten feet of drizzle to the bank door and rushed inside. There were three people in line at one teller’s window, two at the other. While patience wasn’t her strong suit, she waite
d calmly in line, glancing outside every few seconds to see what Logan was doing.

  “Hi, Rachel,” the teller said as she stepped up to the window. “How’s business.”

  Rachel handed over the bag and smiled. It took her a minute to place the teller, a young woman who also taught school for part of the year. “Business is very good, Anne. Thanks for asking.”

  “I can see that,” Anne responded as she peered into the bag at the stack of bills inside. Anne made quick work of counting the bills, then printed out the receipt. “You have a great day, Rachel.”

  “You, too. See you soon.” Rachel took the receipt and turned on her heel.

  Halfway to the door, she took a look through the glass front of the bank. Logan was in the truck and, whatever song was currently playing, he was dancing for all he was worth. Unable to resist, Rachel whipped out her cell and took a short movie of Logan before she left the bank.

  “You are so busted!” she laughed as she jerked open the truck door and leaped inside.

  Logan’s head whipped around and he glared at her, slack-jawed and confused. “What?”

  “Your little dance routine there. I got it on video.” She shook her phone at him and doubled over with laughter.

  “Oh, you’ll get yours. One day, you will get yours.” He sneered at her and put the truck in gear.

  As Logan checked his mirrors, Rachel smirked and stared straight ahead, pleased with herself. Slowly, her eyes widened and her jaw went slack. The truck had barely moved an inch when she shouted, “Stop!”

  Logan threw on the brakes and pivoted his head to squint at her. “What?”

  “That truck up there. The one pulling out of the parking spot. That’s one of the trucks that was at the cemetery the other night.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “See that bumper sticker on the front bumper?”

  Logan leaned forward and squinted through the windshield. “‘Gas, grass or ass. Nobody rides free.’ Didn’t that go out in the Seventies?”

  “Exactly. I saw it that night at the cemetery. In fact, I think I might have caught it in my video…” She turned on her phone and started flipping through images.

  “It’s okay. I believe you. What do we do?”

  “Follow him,” she said with certainty, her eyes riveted on the truck.

  “Didn’t you just promise Dooley you’d stay out of this?”

  “I promised him that I would stay away from the cemetery and that I wouldn’t investigate the case anymore. So, we’re just driving down the street and that truck just happens to always be a little ahead of us. Now go!” She began slapping his arm repeatedly. “He’s getting away.”

  “Rick’s not gonna like this.” Logan mumbled.

  “Tell him I blackmailed you with the dancing video. Just go!”

  “All right, all right!”

  Logan gunned the engine, pulling out of the space and U-turning in one swift movement. The dark green truck had just reached the red light and, even driving slowly, Logan still had to pull up right behind him. When the light changed, Logan delayed their departure by four seconds, then started off slowly.

  Rachel had adopted her usual posture of leaning forward and locking her hands onto the dashboard. She was near drooling, her eyes wide and her lip caught in the vice of her teeth. “Don’t get too close or he’ll make us.”

  Logan merely shook his head.

  The green truck turned left on Maple and Logan did the same. He kept his speed at a minimum and the guy showed no sign that he suspected a tail. The truck’s second turn was a right onto Lincoln. The traffic had thinned out in that part of town, so Logan kept his distance.

  They continued to drive for over three miles, headed for the ocean at a steady clip. When the turn signal came on on the truck ahead, Rachel made a low sound in her throat and slapped the dashboard.

  “There’s only one place he can be going on that road,” she exclaimed. “Turn left and go up on The Point. We can see him from there and he won’t suspect a thing.”

  Again Logan shook his head, but he did as he was told. The road’s incline grew steeper and Logan’s hands tightened on the wheel.

  “Pull it up into those trees,” Rachel said, pointing. “Don’t drive all the way up on The Point or he’ll see us. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  She barely waited for the truck to stop moving before she threw open the door and stepped out.

  “Wait for me,” Logan called, hurrying to catch up with her.

  Rachel slogged up the rise, the mud sucking at her shoes. They would be black by the time she got back to the diner and she would have to change them. Thank goodness she kept a spare pair in the office.

  She kept low, watching the shore as she settled in among a few scruffy bushes. The green truck had just edged onto the beach when she parted the branches to have a better look. She watched as two men climbed out of the truck’s cab and stepped around to the bed. Each grabbed a large box from the truck’s bed and made toward the cliff. They talked as they went, though the wind carried their voices away from Rachel and Logan rather than toward them.

  Rachel rose from her completely crouched position to a partial one and began to duck-walk toward the cliff.

  “What are you doing?” Logan asked, clearly irritated.

  “I’m going over to the cliff so I can hear them better. I need to know what they’re saying.”

  “Get back here. I’ll do it.” He began to stand up, but she waved him back down.

  “Don’t be silly, Logan. You and I both know your ears aren’t as good as mine.”

  “Seriously? We’re really gonna do this now?”

  Logan’s outrage fell on deaf ears, as Rachel had already approached the cliff and was lying flat on the ground in blatant disregard for Logan’s admonishments and the soaking rivulets of rain water.

  She inched forward, oblivious to the mud and muck, until her nose just peeked over the edge of the cliff. The truck was below, all of it visible save for the last few inches of the hood. Rachel pulled her hair back and tucked it neatly behind her ear, turning so that it was aimed directly at the voices below.

  Apparently, the load was quite heavy for one man panted and said, “Is this the last of it?”

  The second man, struggling far less as he brought up the rear replied, “Naw, man. But Mouse is bringing the last load with him when he starts tomorrow.”

  They struggled through the sand for a few more seconds, saying nothing more.

  Rachel leaned forward, gripping the ground as she fought to hear anything else from them. For several long seconds she remained in that position, her body only now starting to feel the damp cold as it seeped through her clothes and bit into her skin. At long last, she was forced to admit that no more would be said and she struggled to stand up on the soggy soil that capped the cliff. As she made her way back to Logan, she noticed him covering his mouth, his shoulders heaving with laughter unvoiced and his eyes beginning to tear up.

  “What’s got into you?” she whispered as she knelt down beside him.

  “You look like a Rorschach test!” He pointed at her uniform and began to chuckle anew.

  Rachel looked down at herself, the front of her uniform smeared with mud and her shoes caked with wet clay. “Blast it! We’ll have to stop by the house so I can change.”

  “Let’s get going. I don’t want to be here when those two drive that truck back down the hill.”

  Rachel made her way to the truck, stepping carefully so as to avoid slipping on some of the more sodden earth. The incline wasn’t steep but with all that rain, it had turned into a giant slippy-slide. When she got to the truck, Logan was leaning against it comically, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded over his chest.

  “I ought to make you ride in the back,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “Ha, ha, ha! Shut up and drive.”

  Logan started the engine and backed around so that they were facing down the slope. He still wore that stupi
d smirk on his face and it was beginning to grate on Rachel’s nerves. Just then, Rachel’s phone emitted that familiar bing! that signaled an incoming text. She grabbed it and swiped the screen, then frowned.

  “Rick is wondering where we are and if everything’s okay.”

  Logan glanced at her briefly and renewed his silly grin. “What are you going to tell him?”

  “That I spilled coffee on my uniform and had to stop by the house to change.” She began typing in her message.

  “You’re going to lie to your husband? My best friend?”

  “Well, you don’t want me to tell him the truth, do you?”

  “Yea, I do.” His face had gone serious, his eyes dark.

  “Okay,” Rachel sighed. She typed in her message, then read it back before hitting send. “’Long story. Have to stop by the house to change. Back ASAP.’ Happy now?” And she hit send with a flourish.

  “So, did you hear anything helpful?” Logan asked after a while.

  “Actually, it might be. The first guy asked if that was the last load. And the second guy said that it wasn’t, but somebody called Mouse would be bringing the last of it with him tomorrow before he started.”

  “Started what, I wonder.”

  “I don’t know. But I wonder what the connection is between the beach and the graveyard. And more importantly, how I’m going to tell Dooley about this without seeming like I’m still on the case.”

  “That’s your problem, lady. I serve as chauffer and bodyguard. Not alibi.” Logan turned into Rachel’s driveway, slid the truck into an open space and put it in park.

  “I’ll figure something out,” she mumbled, then bit into her lip.

  She pushed open the door and slid to the ground. When she had finally rounded the truck and brought Logan into full view, she shook her head. “Why is it that you don’t have a speck of dirt on you?”

  “Because I didn’t lie face down in a big fat mud puddle, silly.” He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

  Busy unlocking the door, Rachel missed it. “I’ll just be a minute. There’s soda in the fridge if you want one. Or sandwich stuff. My kitchen is your kitchen.”