The Breakfast Burger Murder

by Rosie A. Point

  “How are you feeling… emotionally?” Grizzy asked, and took a chair at the head of Nelly’s bed, right next to her little counter-cupboard combo. A vase of flowers sat there with a card perched among the roses. Fitting, since Nelly was a florist.

  Nelly chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re worried because of my mother?”

  Aren’t you?

  “I mean,” Nelly said, “I’m sad that she’s dead, but I just, well, this isn’t going to sound great, but my mother and I weren’t that close. Not as close as we could have been. So I’m sad, but I’m not beat up about it. I guess the worst thing about it is, I was just getting to know her again. We never really had a relationship, and this was our chance. She’d finally bought a house in Sleepy Creek and wanted to get to know me.”

  “Sorry Nelly,” Missi said.

  I echoed the sentiment.

  “Yes, our sincerest condolences.” Virginia patted Nelly on the arm. “Grief comes in all shapes and sizes. You might not feel poorly now, and that’s good, but if you ever do need support, you know where to find us.”

  Nelly’s eyes swam with tears, and she looked down at her hands, fiddling with the remote control. She lifted it and muted the TV overhead. “T-thank you. I think I’ve taken some strength from all of you. So much has happened in Sleepy Creek recently, and you all have been pillars of strength. Look at Christie, her life is falling apart, and she’s so strong.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  Missi snorted. “Shoe fits, wear it.”

  The other women took seats too, but I remained standing at the end of Nelly’s bed. “What happened, Nelly?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. I know you’ve probably had to go over it with the detectives.”

  “I don’t mind. I trust the detectives, but you’ve gotten great results for me in the past. I mean, you solved Fran’s murder when I asked for your help. And I have the horrible suspicion that the police will want to blame me for this again.”

  Odd. Why would she worry about that? She should have been more concerned about the fact that her family member had died.

  Easy. One step at a time.

  “My mom recently bought an estate in the wealthier suburbs.”

  “Oh, you mean in ‘Money Bags Town?’” That was what the citizens of Sleepy Creek called it. The area where all the richie riches lived and kept their wealth. I’d visited the long winding road that led between estates on a previous case. Even the air smelled green.

  “Yes, well, my mother was wealthy, and she bought an estate from Mr. Huxley last month. She moved in about a week ago. I was meant to have dinner with her, but when I arrived at the house, the front door was open and it was dark inside. I called out for my mom, but there was no answer.”

  I held the railing at the end of the bed. “What happened then?”

  “A man, or a woman, I don’t know which because they had a mask on, came rushing out of the hall. They were skinny, and they had a gun in their hand, and they bashed past me and threw me down. That’s the last thing I remember. Next thing I knew, I was waking up here.”

  “That’s just terrible, Nelly.” Grizzy stroked our friends’ arm.

  “That’s really all I know. If I remember anything else, I’ll tell you.” Nelly lay back, and the others started up talking to her about happier things.

  I didn’t join in, but offered a smile every now and again.

  A masked attacker in Sleepy Creek? It was too much, too soon. There had been four murders since I’d arrived, and some of them were definitely connected to my mother’s death twelve years ago.

  Was it the same for this case?

  There was only one way to find out.

  3

  “We’ve got another order for the Breakfast Burger,” I cried, and rang the bell in the kitchen window. “Sunny side up, make that egg yolk lovely and runny, Jarvis.”

  “Comin’ right up, mon.”

  Jarvis was always cool as a cucumber, even though he had a mountain of orders waiting. The man was a wonder in the kitchen, a Jamaican chef genius who came up with new burgers every week. And he was a part of the reason my waistline had expanded these past three weeks.

  To be fair, that was partly Griselda’s fault. She made a mean pie, and soup, and filet mignon. Gosh, my friend could have been a chef in her own right. It was no wonder her cat was overweight. I’d started sympathizing with Curly Fries. A stance I’d never thought I’d take.

  But, like Curly, I’d have to go on a diet. Simple as that.

  I swept back to my table and grinned at the new waiter, Hedy, on the way past. She’d started last week and had finally gotten the hang of things. Soft-spoken and sweet, she probably got better tips than I did.

  “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Krebbler?” I asked, stopping next to the crotchety old man’s table.

  He wasn’t my least favorite customer, but he was on the list. Then again, I couldn’t blame him for being a grump. I was one myself.

  “You didn’t put the cherry on my milkshake,” he said. “Why not?”

  “Mr. Krebbler, there was definitely a cherry on your malt shake,” I said, nodding toward the bar at the back of the restaurant. The retro vibe was strong in this place, and every puffy, vinyl stool was occupied by a customer. “See? Griselda’s making shakes right now.”

  And, indeed, my bestie had two shakes on the counter and was in the process of depositing a cherry on the mound of cream on top of each one.

  “I asked for two cherries,” Krebbler said, pursing his wrinkly lips. “Two cherries. Service in here is going downhill. Sleepy Creek too. Another woman murdered, and it’s barely been a week since the last incident. Shouldn’t even be out and about with times like these. Might get murdered in here. Might get murdered while I’m walking down the street.”

  “Or hit by lightning.” I gestured to the sunny, blue skies outside. “Come on, Mr. Kreb, things will be fine. This is just another hiccup in Sleepy Creek’s road to recovery.”

  “Kreb? Did you just call me Kreb?”

  I sighed. “I can get you another cherry, you know. I’m sure Grizzy won’t charge you extra for it.”

  “That’s not the point.” Krebbler narrowed already beady eyes at me. “You know, I’ve got my suspicions about you.”

  “I’d love to hear them. I’m fueled by suspicions.”

  “You’ve got a bad attitude,” he said. “No tip for you.”

  “I’m shattered, Mr. Krebbler. I’ll be right back with your single cherry.” I fumed my way over to the bar, forcing a smile that scared more than it welcomed. A few of the other customers recoiled at the look on my face.

  “Uh oh,” Grizzy said, as she placed two milkshakes on Hedy’s serving tray. “The Kreb giving you trouble?”

  “Is the sky blue?”

  “What does he want this time?”

  “To drive me to madness. Or to see me bald from pulling my hair out. And a cherry. A single cherry on a plate, please. Better yet, put it on a silver platter if you have one.”

  Grizzy laughed as she removed a cherry, put it on a plate, and handed it over to me. I thanked her then swept back to the Kreb’s table. “Here you are, Mr. Krebbler. Here’s your cherry. Lovely and sweet to make your day better.”

  “I meant what I said.” Krebbler lifted the plate and eyed his cherry. “About my suspicions. About you.”

  “Oh?” I glanced at the other tables in the Burger Bar. Some of them needed my help and the longer I spent chatting to the cherry-aficionado, the worse things got for them. And for me.

  “Things only started going downhill after you arrived in town. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. I’ve got my eye on you, miss.”

  “I’ll sleep easier knowing that. Do you need anything else, Mr. Krebbler?”

  He drew in air through his hooked nose. “Not yet.”

  “Enjoy your cherry, sir.”

  I spent the rest of the morning rush tending to my tables and trying to keep my cool whenever Krebbler asked me for
something else. I had to put up a brave face, or a smiling one, and did it for Grizzy. This was her restaurant, and I didn’t want to be the reason customers didn’t come back.

  Breakfast Burgers were the talk of the restaurant, with people ordering them one after the other. It was a miracle Jarvis was still on his feet by the time the restaurant cleared out a little and breakfast turned to the quiet period before brunch.

  I sat down on one of the barstools to rest my feet, and Grizzy whipped me up a break-time milkshake. “Tough morning,” she said. “I’ve never made so many shakes.”

  “Spring has sprung, and summer is on its way, and weirdly, the murders don’t seem to be deterring the tourists.”

  “That’s because they’re intrigued,” Grizzy said. “Or the papers aren’t doing it justice. And it’s the Sleepy Creek way. You know, keep going. Carry on. Everything will be fine as long as we have our burgers and our milkshakes.”

  “A good burger solves any problem,” Jarvis called from the kitchen.

  “Hear, hear.” Grizzy slid my milkshake over

  I plopped a thick paper straw into it and slurped some down, relishing the cool sweetness. “Have you heard from Nelly?”

  “Only that she’s being discharged today.”

  “We should go see her sometime,” I said.

  Grizzy gave me the look. The ‘I know what you’re up to, you dirty little investigator’ look that she wore so well.

  “What?”

  “I don’t even have to say not to investigate,” Grizzy sighed. “I won’t waste my breath. You’re not going to do what’s good for you.”

  “Investigating is good for me.”

  The bell above the door rang, and I caught the reflection of Liam entering the restaurant. My cheeks grew pink, right away. Gosh, I had to get control of myself. There were more important things than mooning away over an incredibly handsome man.

  In uniform.

  Ahem.

  I slurped on my milkshake so hard, that a clot of thick ice cream, shot free of the straw and right up against the roof of my mouth. I choked and spluttered.

  “You all right there, Christie?” Liam took the seat next to mine at the bar. “Hiya, Griselda, can I get one of your special burgers to go. And a choc shake?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Grizzy gave the order to Jarvis while I tried to recover what remained of my dignity.

  “How are you?” Liam asked me. “Apart from the brain freeze.”

  “I’m fine. Tired. Been busy in here. What about you? You doing good?” Gosh, why were my sentences so short? I had to relax.

  “I’m fine. Stress at work, but that comes with the job description at the moment.”

  “More pressure from your captain about the murders?”

  Liam raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m asking as a friend,” I said. “Not because I want to get involved.”

  “I’ll believe that… never.” He laughed. “And friend? Is that what we are? Friends?”

  “I mean, I hope so. I don’t consider you my enemy, but the jury’s out on that one.”

  “I’m sure I told you not to get cute with me,” he said, and offered me another smile. It was such a rare thing to see from him. At least, when it came to me. He was usually gruff and angry that I’d interfered. “I’ll admit I came in here with an ulterior motive.”

  “You want answers? I wish I knew anything that would help you. Nelly mentioned a gun, and that she didn’t see who her attacker was. And that her mother recently bought a mansion in ‘Money Bags Town.’ I mean, Foldmead.”

  Liam put a hand on my arm. “Not what I meant by ulterior motive. I asked you out on a date, last week at the Fair? So, let’s organize a time. What do you say we head out tonight? I know a great little place in Logan’s Rest that doesn’t serve pizza or burgers.”

  “Hard sell,” I replied, my heart thumping along. “But OK. Yeah, that sounds good. What time?”

  “7pm good for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll see you then, Christie.” He removed his wallet from his pocket and paid for his order, then went to sit at one of the tables to wait for his food.

  I barely kept a straight face as Griselda gave me wide eyes and jostled up and down on the spot. “You’re going on a date,” she whispered.

  Funnily enough, I was more nervous for a date with Liam than I was for investigating the murder of Martha Boggs. Perhaps, I could use the date as an opportunity to squeeze Liam for information. If I could keep myself from blushing and staring at him like a google-eyed doll for more than two minutes.

  4

  The plan to go see Nelly was postponed until tomorrow, when I’d have to take Curly Fries on her weight-loss walk. Because tonight was all about my date with Liam. And it was weird. Oh boy, I hadn’t put more than mascara on in ages, yet here I was, seated across from him in a fancy-schmance restaurant wearing a full face. Never mind the pretty dress Griselda had forced me into, insisting that I had to look more like a lady than a cop for this.

  Apparently, jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt didn’t fit the date aesthetic.

  The place in Logan’s Rest was nice. A Mediterranean restaurant with pasta dishes and tapas and gosh, delicious food that smelled so good my mouth watered.

  “Thanks for picking this place out,” I said, and smiled at Liam. “It’s not what I expected.”

  “Well, it took us a while to get here because of the drive, but I heard this place is great for date nights.” Liam wore a button-down shirt and a little too much gel in his hair. I had my suspicions that Arthur, Grizzy’s boyfriend, had had some input in his outfit too.

  The waiter had already placed a plate of crusty bread on the table, and Balle had shown me a trick—oil and balsamic in a saucer. Drag the bread through it and eat. It was surprisingly tasty, but nothing beat butter on bread in my humble opinion.

  I scooped another slice through the concoction and delivered it to my mouth. “This is good,” I said.

  “Yeah, not what I expected, but great. I can’t wait for our appetizers to come.”

  “You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the foodie type.”

  “I live in Sleepy Creek,” Liam replied. “Even if I wasn’t when I first arrived, I sure am now. Can’t stay in the foodie capital of Ohio for long without becoming a convert.”

  “Foodie capital is a stretch. But I get what you mean.” The conversation was easy with him, and I hadn’t been expecting that. I wasn’t easy to get on with. “So, how are things with you at work?”

  “I hope you’re not taking this as an opportunity to interview me, Christie.”

  I managed to keep a straight face. I did like this guy, even though I didn’t want to. Emotions were complicated. “No, I’m just curious. The last time we spoke about it, you were stressed. You know, captain putting pressure on you to connect the murder cases since there have been so many in such a short span of time.”

  Liam gave a grunt. “It’s still the same. Did you ever experience anything like this back in Boston? Shoot, is that a bad thing to ask since you’re on sabbatical?”

  “No, it’s fine. And yeah. I did, and I did stupid stuff trying to prove myself, hence the fact that I’m here. But … pressure does strange things to people.”

  “Murderous things,” Liam said, and glanced sideways. He froze for the briefest of moments, his eyebrows drawing inward, and his gaze fixed on the table across from ours.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  A woman sat at that table—blonde hair with big hoop earrings and pale pink lipstick. She kind of reminded me of a Barbie doll with less plastic. That’s Janine Huxley. I recognized her from the Burger Bar.

  She’d come in a few weeks ago to petition us to introduce an all-vegan menu. Grizzy had mentioned creating a vegetarian burger, but there was no way we could shop a Burger Bar without meat.

  Janine sat across from a tall guy, hunched over. Black hair, stringy hanging in his face. Pimples
. Maybe just out of his teens, and definitely not the type I’d have envisioned ex-Prom Queen Janine with. She was like the younger, more attractive version of Mona Jonah.

  Cross her and the retribution would be swift.

  “Why are you staring at Janine?” I asked.

  “Oh, nothing like that,” Liam said. “I mean … I can’t officially tell you why.”

  “Oh.” Part of the case. That was interesting. Balle might be set on not giving up any information today, but he’d unwittingly just done so.

  Janine Huxley. Was she a suspect? She didn’t seem the murdering type, but then I’d seen enough in my short time as a detective to know that murder didn’t have a type. It came in all shapes and sizes and profiles. DNA and criminal.

  “Do you want to move?” I asked. “Closer? We could listen in on her conversation.”

  “Starting to see why you were suspended now.” Liam laughed.

  I did too. “Yeah, unorthodox, but I get results.”

  “Don’t start.”

  The waiter returned with our tapas and we tucked into fresh olives and feta cheese, Patatas bravas with a spicy sauce, and calamares, which were crunchy squid. Everything was perfect, and we drank down sodas because Liam would have to drive us back, and I wasn’t much of a drinker.

  The conversation flowed easily, but once in a while, either of us would glance over at Janine’s table. Balle for his reasons, and me because I was curious about why she would be a suspect. If she even was. Chances were, I would have heard about it through gossip central—in the Burger Bar—if Janine had been interviewed.

  She was super popular.

  “So, you were saying about the captain putting pressure on you?” I’d given up on hope that he’d share info with me, accidentally even, about Nelly’s mother’s murder. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But it makes solving these cases even more important. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” I said, between spearing an olive and a bit of feta cheese with my fork.

  “Do you really think your mother’s case is involved in all of this?”