The Fiesta Burger Murder (A Burger Bar Mystery Book 1)

by Rosie A. Point

  “It’s my mother,” I said, and clenched my free fist. It was my mother. And an innocent man, grumpy but innocent, had died because of her. Or because of me. How was I supposed to sit back when I’d spent the last ten years investigating murders back in Boston?

  I could make all the excuses in the world, but the bottom line was I wasn’t going to stop now, no matter how much Griz and the twins wanted me to. And that made me selfish. I got that.

  This was a choice I’d made. A path I’d take. Because when it came to my mother there wasn’t a cold chance in heck I’d let it slide.

  I squared my shoulders and set off down the street which led to Griselda’s house, stomach churning.

  Chapter 18

  I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop open and scanned the search results on the Somerville Spiders. I’d already gone through it and filled a notepad page with information about the group.

  Disbanded in 2004. Most of the group members arrested and in prison. Possible someone pulled the strings? I tapped the nib of my pen next to that question mark. Something didn’t add up here, yet I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  I brought the letter from Loopy Paul’s desk out of my pocket and unfolded it, scanned the lines of text again.

  Dear Paul,

  I understand you’re concerned for my safety but there’s not much I can do right now. I’ve always appreciated your help but I have to deal with this on my own.

  Let me be clear, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to get involved, no matter how much you want to help. My cases are mine alone.

  I hope you and your sister are well.

  Warmest Regards,

  Detective Watson

  “Cases,” I said. “What does she mean by that? Her cases are her own?” Did that mean she’d taken on a case in Sleepy Creek and Paul had been concerned for her safety? He’d clearly felt beholden to her for helping him out of a sticky situation back in Boston.

  But if Paul was concerned about a Sleepy Creek case that might rule out a Somerville Spider as a suspect. I couldn’t exactly search old cases in Sleepy Creek on my computer. It was unlikely I’d find any useful information on the internet.

  I needed the actual case files. Perhaps, if I spoke with the Captain back in Boston I could get him to put in a word for me this side, and then I could file a request for the information.

  I dismissed that idea out of hand. I was already on thin ice with the Captain. If I let him know, even subtly, that I wanted to investigate during my imposed vacation he’d lose his donuts at me. And he loved his donuts.

  I pushed my chair back and scraped over to the coffee pot, yawning along the away. It was already past 6 pm and I hadn’t had a thing to eat. I didn’t want to order takeout from Grizzy’s Burger Bar. That’d be awkward as heck, given that Grizzy handled most home deliveries.

  I poured myself a mug of coffee, then glugged it back. “That’s the stuff.” I smacked my lips.

  The doorbell tinkled – a merry tune that didn’t suit my mood.

  I traipsed past Curly Fries, who’d set up shop in the doorway, and she batted my ankle as I passed. “Who is it?” I called out.

  “Miss Watson?” Balle’s voice carried through the door.

  What was it now? I opened up and stepped back to let him through. “Detective,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

  Liam didn’t smile at me. “Uh-huh. I didn’t expect to be here this soon either. I need to speak to you, Miss Watson. Do you have a minute?”

  “I take it this is case related?”

  “Yes.”

  I shut the door, locked it, then led him to the kitchen table. I grabbed the letter, folded it, and hid it in my pocket before he made it to his seat.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, and sat down opposite him. I shut the laptop’s lid. He wouldn’t realize what I’d researched was related to his case, but I didn’t want to take the risk. Balle wasn’t dull by any means.

  “I told you to stay out of this case, Watson,” he said. “You’ve endangered yourself and your friend. Do you realize how serious that is?”

  “What are you talking about?” We’d already had this discussion after Grizzy’s arrest. Why would he lay it on me again?

  “You spoke to Frances Sarah Dawkins today. I got a distressed call from her down at the station. She thinks you’re going to interfere in Paul’s case to find out what happened to your mother. She’s concerned that you’re going to muddy the evidence. It took me a half hour to reassure her.”

  So much for kindred spirits in pain. It appeared Frances had shared my grief and that the help had been from the goodness of her heart – so much for that. She’d likely freaked out afterward because of the pressure of losing her brother.

  Shame bubbled through me for the millionth time that week. “I –”

  “She said you had a letter which mentioned her brother.”

  “I -”

  “She said you were asking questions about the Somerville Spiders.”

  “Hey, wait a minute here. You’re assuming all this stuff happened, and you haven’t even heard my side of it,” I said. Pity, my side of it would match what Frances had told him and get me into a mess of trouble.

  “I don’t want to hear excuses,” Liam said. “At the beginning of this week I might’ve given you the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve proved again and again that you’re determined to interfere in my investigation. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?” His professional façade cracked and a sliver of anger peeked through.

  “I didn’t mean to frustrate you.”

  “It’s a natural consequence of what you’re doing, Christie.” The first time he’d used my full name and it sounded good. Weird that I’d pick up on that in the middle of being chewed out for my behavior. “I’m willing to wipe the slate clean if you offer up any physical and anecdotal evidence you might’ve found on your, uh, travels.”

  I weighed it. I didn’t have much of a choice here. Frances had already outed me. Grizzy and the locals were angry at me for getting involved. Liam was ready to explode beneath his perfectly ironed shirt.

  Maybe, it was time to back off and let him handle this case. My stomach roiled. But my mother is –

  I cut that off. She was involved. And she also wouldn’t want me to put myself in harm’s way, physically or mentally. I sighed. “Here,” I said, and drew the letter out of my pocket.

  I placed it on the table and slid it over. I ripped off the top page of my notepad and gave that to him next. “And here. That’s all I’ve got.”

  Balle took both and read them one by one. Gave me enough time to grab two mugs of coffee for both of us.

  “These are interesting deductions,” Liam said.

  “Frances told me that my mother liberated them from the Somerville Spiders,” I said. “And I figured if Paul wanted to give me information, then the only person who’d want to stop him was the person who murdered my mom. Or someone who was hired by that person. The Spiders went down because of her.”

  Liam nodded and folded up the letter again. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take this,” he said.

  “I understand.” Of course, I understood. Evidence was evidence and I’d had no right to withhold it. I would’ve handed it over eventually, of course, but that was my mother’s handwriting. It was a tiny piece of her. Part of me had wanted to cling to that letter a little longer.

  “Do you have any copies of this?” Liam asked.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Good.” He scraped his chair back, coffee untouched. “Miss Watson, this is your final warning. If I catch you meddling again I’m going to arrest you. Don’t make me do that, please.”

  I opened my mouth to reply but he’d already left the kitchen. The front door clicked shut a couple seconds later and left me in silence.

  A week and I’d messed up everything. I’d thrown my plan to relax right out of the window.

  I pushed aside my mother an
d what she’d do in this situation and grabbed the cordless phone - it was pizza time.

  The phone rang in my hand.

  Chapter 19

  “Hello?”

  “H-hello! Hello, is that the noisy neighbor? The new girl?”

  “Uh – who is this?” I asked, and leaned against the counter in Grizzy’s kitchen. Curly Fries prrt-meowed and curled between my ankles, purring as if I was the one who fed her in the mornings.

  “It’s Ray,” the guy said. “From next door?”

  Right, the man who’d seen someone behind his house and told the cops about it. The cat hater who’d wielded a broomstick at the annoying feline now patting my ankles for attention. “Hi,” I said. “Can I help you?”

  “You’re not outside,” he said.

  An astute observation. “No, I’m indoors. Why do you ask?” And what business was it of his where I was or what I did?

  “What about that Griselda woman? Is she there? She outside?”

  My insides went numb – cold readiness for a shock. “No. She’s working late. Ray, I appreciate the call and everything, but could you tell me what the heck is going on?”

  “There’s someone in my yard,” he said.

  “What?”

  “There’s. Someone. In. My. Yard. What are you, deaf?” Ray spat, but it was a show of bravado. His voice trembled around the edges, wobbly like the flan Grizzy had served as a dessert in the restaurant this week.

  “Who?”

  “It’s Aquaman,” Ray said. “How the heck am I supposed to know who it is, woman? That’s why I’m calling you. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

  “Yes, warning me about homicidal maniacs is at the top of the list.” I snuck to the kitchen window and clicked off the light switch, plunging purring Curly Fries and myself into darkness.

  “Who said anything about homicidal?” Ray murmured.

  I twitched the curtain aside and caught a view of Grizzy’s empty yard. The cops had taken the seal off the back exit and rolled up the crime scene tape yesterday afternoon. “Why else would there be someone in your back yard?”

  “Lady, you’re giving me all kinds of goosebumps,” Ray said.

  “Do me a favor, Ray.”

  “I’m not big on favors.”

  “This one could save both our lives,” I replied. The back fence remained sturdy, untouched – no dark shadows waxing or waning in front of it this time. Ray might’ve seen an animal or it was a trick of anxiety and shadows, but I wasn’t prepared to take that risk given the circumstances.

  “What is it?” Ray asked.

  “Go to your kitchen window and tell me what you see.”

  The phone crackled – fabric on plastic – and a second of terse quiet intervened. “I’m here,” Ray whispered. I could almost feel the heat of his breath through the receiver. His tension leaked through it. “There’s someone by my back fence.”

  “How tall?”

  “Tall. Manly tall,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. There were plenty of tall women. How did he know it wasn’t Adriana Lima in his back yard? That would make Ray’s life better. “Give me an estimate.”

  “I dunno, lady, six-foot somethin’.”

  “What’s the figure doing?”

  Ray’s breath whistled. “He’s standing there. I think he’s facing my back porch but I can’t make it out. Hold on, let me switch on the porch light.”

  “No –”

  Light flared next door, blocked by the slats of the fence – I could only make out the bulb and the gabled roof over it.

  “Oh, he’s just climbed over the top. He’s wearing a coat. He’s behind the fence.”

  “Can you make out which direction he’s going?” I asked.

  “Yeah, in your direction. I think he’s coming to your house but I can’t see what’s going on. I’m going to call the cops,” Ray said.

  “Don’t,” I replied.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’ll, uh, I’ll call them. Listen, Ray, lock yourself up in there. Stay safe.”

  “Don’t gotta tell me twice.” He hung up without wishing me the same.

  I placed the phone on the kitchen counter but didn’t shift focus from that back fence. It rattled, boards warping under pressure, and that shadowy figure appeared.

  I didn’t have a gun with me. Grizzy didn’t carry, and mine had been confiscated – options for self-defense were limited, but my training would help me out with that. I grabbed Griselda’s granite rolling pin and hefted it with a grunt, then unlocked the back door.

  I opened it, praying the hinges wouldn’t creak. They didn’t. I slipped onto the porch and left the door open behind me, dropped into a crouch, and weighed my options.

  A starless night coated the area in darkness. Rustles in the grass, the scent of cooking from the house over, and the gentle drip-drop of the faucet by the drain. I took it all in. The crickets had gone quiet.

  Where was he? Ah, there!

  Shadow man dropped down on my side of the fence and muttered under his breath. Not particularly stealthy behavior for a suspected murderer.

  He, and Ray had been right about that: it was a guy, hunched over and crept toward the porch.

  One twitch and I’d reveal my position.

  The figure reached the base of the stairs, straightened, and took them two at a time. He hit the porch and froze – must’ve spotted the open kitchen door. “Huh?”

  I whipped the rolling pin around and rammed it into the backs of his knees. The wooden handle broke free.

  “Oi!” The intruder pitched forward and hit the deck with a bang which thundered through the house.

  I leaped up and placed my foot on his back. “Don’t move,” I growled.

  “Please, please, don’t hurt me. Please!” A familiar voice broken by the shrill ring of the cordless phone on the kitchen counter. “Please!”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “No, scratch that. Who are you?”

  “It’s Pete. Pete Dawkins. I came to talk.”

  The phone fell silent, but the ringing started up again almost instantly.

  “Yeah, because climbing over fences screams ‘placid conversation.’” I grunted and took my foot off his back, then jogged inside and fetched the phone. “Yeah?” I answered.

  “I heard a bang,” Ray said.

  I flicked on the kitchen lights and blinded my new ‘guest’. He squinted up at me, pale around the lips and shaking. “Please don’t kill me,” he whispered.

  “Everything’s fine. It’s Pete,” I said.

  “That charity idiot?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Ugh, good luck,” Ray said, and hung up again.

  I put the phone down and followed suit with the rolling pin – I owed Grizzy a new one. Pete hadn’t quit groaning or fumbling for the backs of his knees. I hadn’t taken it easy on him. Why would I when he’d basically trespassed right after a man had been murdered in the back garden?

  “Don’t kill me,” Pete repeated.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Now, what do you want? And why didn’t you call?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know I was here. I – didn’t want Sleepy Creek’s Gossip Circle to hear.”

  There were too many questions to ask, and I couldn’t get them out with Pete rolling around on the porch. I marched to his side and extended a hand. “Come in, then. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Such a cliché, but it applied here.

  Pete took my hand and scrambled to his feet, wincing and whining along the way. “You told Ray I’m here. Everyone’s going to know, now. The whole of Sleepy Creek.”

  “So?”

  “So, if they know then he will know.”

  “Who?” I asked, and closed up behind my limping guest.

  “The murderer.”

  I double-checked the lock.

  Chapter 20

  It took five minutes for Pete to calm down, and even then he jumped when I poured him a mug of coffee.
That was my instant solution to every problem known to man. A cup of coffee a day kept the fear away.

  “Let’s start from the top,” I said, and took the seat across from him. “You came out here to find who, me? Grizzy?”

  “You,” he said. “You’re the out-of-towner, right? The new woman? I think I saw you at the Sleep Apnea Event.”

  “That’s right,” I replied.

  “I heard a rumor that you’re involved in the case. That you’re an undercover cop from the big city searching for the murderer,” he said. “I figured I’d skip straight to the source.”

  I was tempted to let him live that illusion. Sanity prevailed, this time. “I’m not an undercover cop working on the case,” I said. “I’m a cop on sabbatical who came down to Sleepy Creek for the amenities.” It was a bad joke, and Pete didn’t catch it.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh.” And his shoulders drooped. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said. “I’m investigating the case in a personal capacity, however. Paul knew my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes. My mother was murdered in Sleepy Creek twelve years ago.”

  “Holy fireballs,” Pete muttered. “That’s – I’m sorry about that.”

  I waved off the sympathy – the go-to reaction to make an awkward moment pass. “You’ve come all this way. If you’ve got something to tell me, I’d appreciate hearing it.”

  Pete stalled – drank from his mug, clapped it down on the table again. The time on the clock elicited a sigh. It was almost 8 pm now, and Grizzy still hadn’t come home. Did she plan on leaving it until I was already asleep?

  “All right,” Pete said. “I’ll have to tell the cops too, though. The real cops.”

  I bristled but slammed the professional fascia into place. “What happened?”

  “Someone’s watching my house,” he said. “It makes my skin crawl saying it but I’m sure of it. It happens every night now.”

  “What does?”

  “I hear noises in the forest. Scraping and banging. Someone out there in the night and they’re taunting me. They want me to know they’re after me,” Pete said.