by Nova Nelson
A loud thud me caused me to jump, and I froze for a second, looking around. A door slammed and then there was silence. Something wasn’t right. I knew it instantly, could feel the presence of it in my bones. But I steadied myself and followed the source of the sound to the manager’s office where …
“Oh no.” Facedown on the floor was the man who’d greeted me when I’d first entered Medium Rare. His hairy arms were spread out to either side of him, and he wasn’t moving. I’m no doctor, but I was pretty sure that red stuff bubbling from a gash on the back of his head was blood.
My mind only noticed the frying pan on the floor next to him in passing as I bent down, yelling, “Sir? Sir? Can you hear me? Are you alright, sir?”
No response.
For whatever reason, I didn’t want to touch him. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment. We were two strangers thrust together into this horrible situation, and now I had to take this relationship to the next level by touching him?
I got over myself and grabbed his thick forearm, shaking it gently. “Sir? Can you—”
“What is going— Oh no.”
It was Tanner. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. His voice was already stored firmly in my memory.
“Bruce!” he yelled, shaking the man much harder than I had. “Bruce, you okay, buddy?”
“I don’t think he is,” I mumbled.
Tanner glared at me then reached forward and put two fingers on Bruce’s neck. He paused. Grunting slightly, he readjusted the placement of his fingers and then waited again. Still nothing.
He rolled back on his heels until his butt hit the cold tile floor of the manager’s office, then he put his head in his hands.
I didn’t know what to do. Leaning over, I placed a comforting hand on his shoulders, but he shrugged it off and stood abruptly. “You did this?”
I jumped up too. “No! Of course not!”
“Then why were you back here?”
“My food was taking forever and you weren’t around so— Hey, wait! Where were you?”
He cringed. “I had to use the restroom. Can’t a guy use the restroom at some point in his double?”
We stared at each other for only a second more before I was sure he was telling the truth. He must have sensed as much from me because we both turned back toward the body.
“What now?” I asked.
He ran a hand down his face. “I guess we send an owl to Deputy Manchester.”
“Are you joking?”
He was not.
Sending an owl is exactly what it sounds like. Tanner grabbed a pen and slip of paper from Bruce’s desk and scribbled on it before telling me to follow him, explaining, “No offense, but I don’t think either of us should be alone with the body until Manchester arrives. Could look suspicious.”
I agreed and stepped with him out the back door and into the cold night air. To the right of the door was a brass bell attached to the wall. Tanner rang it and a moment later, an owl appeared out of the dark sky and landed on a brass perch just below the bell. Once Tanner had attached the message, he said, “Deputy Stu Manchester” and the owl was off.
Deputy Stu Manchester arrived no more than fifteen minutes later, and his presence freed up Tanner to clear out the restaurant, telling everyone their meal was free and if they hadn’t gotten their meal yet, they could come back next time and get a free one on him.
Once the deputy had covered the body, he pulled the two of us outside for questioning, though he made whoever he wasn’t speaking with sit out of earshot in case we were trying to “get our stories straight.”
I had the impression that Deputy Manchester lived for this type of action. Not Bruce’s death specifically, but murders. He was like a kid in a candy shop and did a poor job of remaining nonchalant in the face of something as interesting as this. I supposed it made sense; a tiny town in Texas (though I was starting to think I wasn’t in Texas anymore) wouldn’t have a lot going on. His days were probably spent on calls about kids trespassing and stolen livestock.
He held a notepad at chest level as he inspected me. “Ashcroft, eh? Never met an Ashcroft before. You make that name up?”
I sighed. “Uh, no. I’m sorry, but is my name relevant?”
“You never know what’s relevant to a murder case, Ms. Ashcroft. It is miss and not missus, right?” Was he coming on to me? My eyes danced over to Tanner, where he leaned against a tree twenty yards off.
“Miss is fine.”
He scratched out something on his notepad and then tucked it into his breast pocket. “Ms. Ashcroft—”
“Just Nora is fine.”
“Okay then. Nora, I’d like you to look at this from my perspective. A well-established business owner is murdered out of the blue, and when I take a good look at the situation, the only new element I can find in this equation is you. What do you say to that?”
I shrugged. “Look harder?” I knew I shouldn’t sass him, but I was hungry, tired, and being accused of murder in so many words. That didn’t exactly bring out the best in me.
He puffed up his chest. “Of course I’ll keep looking at things. Listen, missy—”
“Nora.”
“—I’ve been doing this job a long time. I don’t need your help on it!”
“So then we’re done with questions? Great. I’m starving.”
He grunted. “We’re not done with … Well, no, I guess we are. I asked you all my questions. Okay. I better call in Ted to clean this place up. Don’t go leaving town! I might have more questions for you once I inspect the scene further.”
“Of course.” I decided not to mention that the main reason I agreed was that I currently had no viable option for leaving town. Not until I could solve the mystery of the disappearing BMW.
Deputy Manchester turned and stomped into the diner.
The bright moon lit the dark sky and a chilly wind rushed through. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered before he placed a warm hand between my shoulder blades. “Don’t let him get to you,” Tanner said, rubbing my back slowly. “He’s a good guy, but he gets a little excited when anything interesting happens.”
“You know him well?” I asked. The lamplight glimmered in his hazel eyes.
“I don’t know about that. But we’ve had our fair share of … exchanges.”
Whoa. “You have run-ins with the law a lot?” Did Tanner have a bad-boy side? Who would’ve thought?
He grimaced slightly. “Ehh, I wouldn’t say that exactly. It’s a long story. Let’s just say every time someone ends up dead in Eastwind, I find myself somehow a suspect.”
“Do people end up dead here a lot?”
Meeting my gaze, he sighed. “Too often. Guess that’s what comes of a bunch of dangerous creatures all gathered into a small town.”
“Geez, you’re really selling me on the place.” But I found that I was starting to accept the idea that I might not be crazy and Tanner might not be lying, and there could exist a town full of creatures I always thought dwelled solely in fairy tales and myths. Believing such a thing almost felt natural ... once I got past everything I’d ever learned about the world.
Tanner chuckled. “If we’re going to be here a while, we might as well go inside where it’s warm.”
No argument there.
Once we were in the diner, I parked it on a tall stool and he stood on the other side of the counter. “Do you like pie?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
“What kind of a monster doesn’t?” As soon as I’d said it, it occurred to me that “monster” might be some kind of slur in a town like this. I cringed, but he didn’t seem offended.
Grinning, he pointed at me and winked. “You’re my kinda gal.”
He didn’t mean it like that, right?
Two pies were on display at the end of the counter. He removed the glass domes and plated two pieces, one of each pie. Setting the plate between us and two forks next to it, he said, “Cherry and blueberry. You pick your favorite, and
I’ll eat the other.”
“What if I want both?” I asked. Sadly enough, this was my attempt at flirting. I admit it was not the best approach. But I was exhausted and starving, so gluttony was about the sexiest thing I could think of just then.
Anyway, it achieved its intended effect. His head jerked back and a delicious half-grin appeared on his face. “Dang! Definitely a girl after my own heart!”
I thought about laughing and saying, “I’m only kidding, one piece is enough,” except that would’ve been a lie. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d indulged in good old-fashioned pie. All the desserts I’d eaten lately were “delicate” with “subtle hints” of this spice or that random root found only in the Amazon Rainforest.
But gosh dangit! I wanted pie! Real pie! Pie made with butter and flour and canned berries and sugar. Mostly sugar. I wanted to stuff my face with it. So no, I didn’t tell him I was kidding about eating both pieces because I absolutely wasn’t. The end was nigh for these two slices, and it might take Deputy Manchester handcuffing me to the barstool for the rest of the pies to avoid the same fate.
And, oh holy smokes, was the blueberry delicious. And the cherry. I’m not embarrassed to say I made quick work of both. “Tanner, did you make these?”
He grinned modestly. “Yeah. Baking pies is kind of my thing.”
“You have to teach me how to make these.”
He eyed me skeptically. “You planning on sticking around long enough for me to teach you how to make my famous pies?”
Oh, right. I wasn’t planning on sticking around. Not even for Tanner. Not even for pie.
Before I could come up with something smart to say, the bell above the front door tinkled, capturing my attention. I turned to see who had entered and nearly jumped out of my skin.
The thing is, no matter how many encounters you have with Death, it’s always a shock when he shows up.
“Hey, Ted,” Tanner said casually as the grim reaper approached the bar.
“Hello again, Tanner!” Ted replied. His voice was a deep death rattle, like someone shaking a bag of old bones at the bottom of a well. “It’s so crazy, right?” Ted chuckled, sending chills up my spine. “I was just in here, and then Bruce was killed, and I totally had nothing to do with it, you know?”
Tanner nodded kindly.
Ted shook his head and grinned. “It’s just so random. What a coincidence. I had nothing to do with it, by the way. So, uh … if anyone asks, would you just let them know?” He glanced at me and his eyes were two endless pits. “People here tend to assume I bring death with me wherever I go. Totally not the case. Do I have crazy timing? Yes, I’ll admit that. But it’s not like I’m an omen or anything. Heh-heh.”
“Uh-huh,” I said as cheerily as possible. The last thing I wanted to do was put Ted on the defensive.
He turned to Tanner. “By the way, I was thinking of getting a game of bridge together on Saturday.” Ted pointed a finger gun at him. “You in?”
Tanner nodded noncommittally. “Let me look at me schedule, Ted, and I’ll get back to you. You should, um, probably …” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the back, where Bruce’s body was still lying lifeless on the floor, staining the tile with blood.
“Oh! Right!” Ted laughed and leaned playfully toward me, bringing a gloved hand up to his mouth to stage whisper to me, “The old nine to five. Gotta pay the bills though, right?”
“Heh. Yeah,” I said, counting down the seconds until I could have a little more space between us.
He nodded at Tanner. “I like her. Just something about her. I don’t know. You should hang on to this one.”
“Oh, no,” Tanner stammered awkwardly, “we’re not … she’s not my … we just found the crime scene together.”
“Okay,” he said, unconvinced. “Sure. Just saying, if you don’t, someone might snatch her up.” He winked at Tanner. “Either way,”—he turned to me—“you should come along with him to bridge night.” He leaned his sickle back against his shoulder. “Alright. I’ll get to it. Catch ya later!”
I don’t think the last bit was intended as a threat.
As soon as he was out of sight, I turned to Tanner. “Are you going to bridge night?”
“Not a chance.”
When I started laughing, so did he, and the last bit of my energy evaporated. I sighed. “It’s been a really long night.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Sure has.” He paused, staring down at the countertop. “I can’t believe Bruce is dead. It’s just … it’s strange.”
“Were you two close?”
“Yeah, for the most part. Something changed in him recently, though. He seemed just a little disconnected, and twice I caught him talking to himself in the storage closet. No, not talking to himself,” he corrected, “talking to someone else. Maybe a few other people. But no one was there.” He shook his head to clear it. “Then sometimes he would be just fine. Like tonight. He seemed a little like his old self tonight. Our cook called in sick, and Bruce said he’d fill in. He got his start way back when as a line cook. Jumped in whenever he could. Still loved it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. What else was there to say? Bruce’s death was settling in for Tanner, and it wasn’t hard for me to tap into memories of what it felt like when the shock wore off and the grim news filled its place.
“I was worried about his health, what with the talking to himself and acting anxious most of the time,” Tanner continued. “Turns out, his health wasn’t a problem. A frying pan was.” He grimaced and turned his attention to me. “You must be exhausted. You got somewhere to stay tonight?”
“I figured I’d go look for my car, take a cat nap in it, and then get on the road again.”
He nodded slowly. From his expression, it looked like he was starting to doubt my sanity as much as he had Bruce’s. “Well, I don’t know what a car is, but can I make a suggestion?”
Maybe I was going crazy, because I could have sworn he’d just said he didn’t know what a car was. “Uh, sure.”
“Stay in town tonight. If you try to take off, it’s going to look a little suspicious, don’t you think?”
He had a point. Plus, Deputy Manchester had instructed me to stick around. “Okay. But I don’t know anyone in town except you, I guess.”
Then it occurred to me where this conversation was likely heading.
Oh. My. God. Was this gorgeous man about to invite me back to his place for the night? I might’ve been bone tired, but I wasn’t too tired to b—
Eh-hem, what I mean to say is I could’ve rallied if the night called for it.
He pressed his lips together, nodding, deep thoughts swirling behind his beautiful exterior. “You know what? Ruby True.” He waggled a finger at me. “Yeah, I bet she would let you use her spare bedroom upstairs. She usually charges for it, but I bet I can sweet-talk her into giving you a free night, considering the circumstances.”
“And who is Ruby?” What I’d wanted to ask was “What is Ruby?” but that seemed impolite. Still, I wasn’t looking to spend the night at a dragon’s house or whatever. Did they have dragons here?
“She’s an old woman.”
Well, wasn’t this a delightful twist. I’d hoped I’d be spending an evening with Mr. Sexy Witch, but instead, I would get to spend a night in some dusty grandma’s attic, fighting off moths, no doubt.
Still, better than a dragon, I supposed. “Oh. Sounds exciting.”
“It usually is with her.” There was no sarcasm in his statement. “I’ll send an owl and ask the fearsome Deputy Stu if we’re free to leave.” He flashed me a quick grin, leaving me a little lightheaded (or was that the carb rush after devouring two pieces of pie on an empty stomach?), and disappeared into the back.
I sighed. It looked like I’d be spending the night in Eastwind.
Okay, I could handle that. What was the worst that could happen in a town filled with deadly supernatural creatures?
Chapter Four
<
br /> “We’re good to go,” Tanner said, emerging from the back room again, a heavy jacket slung over his shoulder. “Sent an owl to Ruby, so she’ll be expecting us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, of course. Unless … you know how to get to Ruby’s house?”
“Ah, right.”
He held out his jacket. “Here. It’s a little bit of a walk.”
“I already have an overcoat,” I said, holding my arms out to show him.
“I’m not in-the-know about fashion,” he said, eyeing my coat suspiciously, “but that strikes me as more of an accessory than an actual coat.”
I shrugged a shoulder. It’d been plenty earlier tonight, when I’d left New Orleans. But the temperature had dropped significantly since then.
“Yeah, okay. You’re right.” Tanner was half a foot taller than me, probably a few inches north of six feet. That, coupled with the heavy circumference of his biceps, meant his jacket easily slid on above my overcoat without bunching. I pulled it tight around me. “Thanks.” His scent wafted from the jacket into my nostrils. There was something earthy about it, almost like a mixture of rosemary and sage. And cherry pie.
“Nobody you’d want to spend the night with lives in the Outskirts,” he explained as we emerged into the cold air and strolled down the dirt road toward, I presumed, the center of town. “But it’s a perfect place for Medium Rare. Mostly werewolves live out here, and boy do they love their steak and eggs.”
“You just said ‘werewolves’ right?”
He chuckled. “Yep.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“I take it they don’t have those where you’re from.”
“Not that I know of.”
We must have passed a hundred street lamps before I realized they weren’t electric. Just old-fashioned gas lamps, by the looks of them. That relaxed me for some reason.
The dirt streets transitioned to cobblestone a block further on, and buildings became less sparse. “Bruce could have afforded a place closer into town, but he wanted to be where his kind were located. Werewolves have to put on airs in Eastwind proper, but not in the Outskirts.”