Slowly walking into the kitchen, I waited.
“I want to buy the point,” he announced. “The whole enchilada.”
“Pardon me?” I’d heard him, but I just wanted to see if he’d say enchilada again.
“I want to buy the point. The whole enchilada. The diner, the cottages, the bait shop, this house. All of it.”
Ha! He’d said it again, and he even broke it down for me.
“That’s nice of you, Mayor Tingsley, but I haven’t even unpacked yet. I haven’t even had a chance to get my bearings.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll pay you two million, right now, if you sign this.” He pulled a packet of papers out of an inside pocket and spread them on the counter.
Wow. That was a lot of money, and I could go anywhere or do anything I wanted with that kind of dough, but this was home now, and I loved it here. Besides, Aunt Stella trusted me with what she and Uncle Porky built, and I had my own memories of growing up here. I couldn’t do it for any amount of money.
“No,” I said. “This is my home, my business. I’m here to stay.”
He yanked the papers from the table and shoved them into the pocket of his parka. “You’ll be sorry you didn’t accept my offer.” He checked his watch. “I’m running late. I’m going to skip your offer of coffee. I’ll be back. Rick Tingsley doesn’t give up.”
“Uh, Mayor Tingsley, what do you mean that I’ll be sorry?”
“I heard what happened here. Marv Cogswell, the health inspector, died in your kitchen. Do you think that you’ll have any business after word gets out that he was poisoned at your diner?”
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, heading for the door. I was half past cranky and couldn’t tolerate the less-than-honorable Mayor Tingsley anymore.
We said our good-byes, and he reiterated that he’d be back. I’d be ready.
I shut the door behind him and locked it. I was exhausted, but I wanted to mop up his mess from the living room and the kitchen. It looked like an army had marched through my house, not just one mayor.
Forget it. I just had to sleep.
I had a death grip on the banister as I trudged up the stairs to the second floor. Every bone in my body screamed in pain. If I had had any muscles, they’d have screamed, too.
I was almost to the top step when the doorbell rang.
I looked longingly at the door to my room, visible down the long hall.
The doorbell rang again, and I turned around. It was easier going down the stairs, but not by much.
I answered the door. The entire Sandy Harbor sheriff’s department stood on my porch. Ty Brisco stood between Vern and Lou with his hands in his pockets, looking refreshed and put together.
“Good morning,” I said to everyone, raking my hair out of my eyes. I wanted to tell them that I didn’t usually look like this, but I’d just spent fourteen hours cooking and the mayor had left me with a hideous headache.
I noticed Ty shifting from boot to boot. He met my gaze, stood a little straighter, and magically transformed into J. Edgar Hoover, minus the dress.
Ty held up a piece of legal-looking paper. “I have a court order to search your house.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Sorry, Trixie.”
“But—”
“Sorry.”
He had the sense to look sheepish. Good.
“Come on in. I have nothing to hide,” I said, holding the door as everyone filed in.
They all put white booties on their feet. Vern and Lou carried duffel bags, and they spread out over my house like killer bees.
I noticed Ty looking at me. I was still standing by the door, still swaying on my numb feet and perversely wishing that I’d had a chance to really clean the place. Who wishes she had cleaned up for men who think she’s a murderer?
This was so ridiculous. Why were they wasting time on me? They should be looking for the real killer.
Ty stood in front of me. “I am truly sorry, Trixie.”
“What should I do, Deputy Brisco? Make coffee? I wish I had some doughnuts or something to serve. I should have brought some snowballs home from the diner.” I couldn’t help being sarcastic. I wanted them out of my house, and I wanted to get some sleep.
“This shouldn’t take long. Just sit down and relax and try not to worry.” He pointed to a reclining chair. If I sat there, I’d go to sleep immediately.
Oh, who cares? I sat down in the chair, yanked on the footrest handle, and sank into blue plaid heaven. I reached for a knitted afghan that Aunt Stella had left and shook it out over myself. Yum.
The next thing that I heard was Ty’s low voice with the Texas twang, “Trixie, we’re leaving now.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, raising the afghan higher.
“I just want to tell you that we didn’t find anything unusual. No mushrooms.”
“That’s nice,” I said, cocooning deeper into the chair.
“Trixie, did you hear what I said, darlin’?”
“Mush…rooms.”
Why didn’t he just stop talking and let me sleep?
“Uh…well…okay,” he said. “Get some rest. I’m going now.”
“Mmm…arrest. You’re going to arrest.”
It was dark when I woke up, and I couldn’t figure out where I was. Oh yeah, blue plaid recliner in the living room of Aunt Stella and Uncle Porky’s house. Uh…my new house.
I checked the anniversary clock on the mantel. It was almost five p.m. eastern-dark-way-too-early-at-nighttime. I had to jump into the shower and hustle over to the diner to cover for Bob and relieve Juanita and Cindy.
I could barely stand. But I couldn’t entirely blame the blue plaid recliner. I was out of shape.
Well, in all fairness to me, I had been on my feet nonstop for forever yesterday and early this morning. And I needed better shoes or sneakers or Crocs—another item to add to the list in my notebook.
It was a chore getting up the stairs, but a hot shower was the prize at the end of the trail. It had to be a short shower or I’d be late, and Juanita might quit yet again.
I wondered how Cindy Sherlock did on her first day as cook-in-training. I’d soon find out.
I didn’t even take the time to dry my hair thoroughly, so by the time I trudged to the diner, it was frozen crispy.
Both Juanita and Cindy were glad to see me. The diner was packed and two shifts of waitresses were yelling out orders, so both Juanita and Cindy stayed overtime to help me. The word hadn’t gotten out yet to the general public about the murder—the results of the autopsy would take some time—but my staff knew because they were all interviewed.
After a few bumps and crashes, and even some laughs, we managed to forget for a little while that the health inspector died in the kitchen.
Before Juanita left, I thanked her profusely for not quitting (yet), and she told me that Cindy was a quick study.
That was great news.
I found Cindy putting her coat on by the back door. “Juanita tells me that you did a terrific job.”
“This was much more fun than cashiering all day at the Dollar-O-Rama.”
I smiled. “Now what are you up to?”
“Watching my brothers and sisters. My mother has to work tonight.”
“Where does your mom work, Cindy?”
“The box company in Oswego.”
I nodded. I knew exactly where the box company was located because I’d graduated from SUNY Oswego, the State University of New York, there. It was a grueling forty-five minutes from Sandy Harbor on country roads under the best of circumstances. In wintery weather with blowing and drifting snow, it would take twice as long—at least.
“Thanks for staying overtime. I’ll make sure you are paid accordingly.”
I probably should keep some kind of record, so I could make out paychecks. Where was my notebook? I had to write that down.
“Keep track of your hours, okay?” I said.
She nodded. Suddenly, a lot of laughing and
noise came from the restaurant. We both turned in the direction of the pass-through window to check it out.
Ty Brisco. He must be off duty as he was in full cowboy regalia, and he looked fabulous. Not that I noticed. He sported a white cowboy hat, which, according to all the Westerns that I’ve seen, meant that he was one of the good guys.
All right, I noticed my heart rate accelerating just from looking at Ty, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Cindy whistled softly. “He’s hot.”
I couldn’t disagree.
He saw me staring at him and waved. Ugh. I didn’t have time to put any makeup on. It’d melt off anyway with the heat from the kitchen. I raised my arm and gave a halfhearted wave back.
Did he have to eat all his meals here?
Cindy gave me a hug and walked out the door.
From the dining area, in walked Chelsea, the waitress with the tongue jewelry. She saw me on duty and grinned.
“In English, I know.” She read from her pad. “An order of bacon and eggs, eggs over easy, a lightly toasted bagel with butter and cream cheese, and home fries with onions.” Then she said, breathlessly, “It’s for Ty.”
Make that another woman enamored with the cowboy cop.
As I got his breakfast ready, I reminded myself that I had to do something to solve Mr. Cogswell the Third’s poisoning, even though Ty said to butt out. But I was a suspect, and that made me crazy. I’d never had a ticket in my life, forget about the big stuff like murder.
All I needed was a free moment to myself.
One side of the swinging doors opened, and Ty Brisco stood in the doorway. He knocked on the frame. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Don’t you have carte blanche?”
“I’m not on duty right now, so I thought I’d ask.”
I took a deep breath to release the tension building in my gut. “Sure. Come in. I’m making your order right now.”
“I’ll just make sure you don’t spit on it.” His blue eyes twinkled.
“You’re too late.”
He bent his head back and laughed. It was interesting how his cowboy hat didn’t fall off when he did that.
As he walked over to the side of the steam table, the sound of his boots made a dull thumping sound on the cement floor. I liked the sound. Then I caught the scent of pine and spice. Yum.
In my craziness, I dropped an egg on the floor, just inches from his black cowboy boots. I picked up a towel and knelt down to clean up the mess from the floor. My hands shook.
“Relax, Trixie. If you’re not guilty, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“It’s a little hard to relax, Deputy Brisco,” I said with my face inches from a vat of ground beef. Oh yes, the evening special was spaghetti and meatballs. Then why was I making him breakfast? It was dinnertime.
How could I have forgotten? The diner had a full menu, twenty-four hours a day.
“Please go back to calling me Ty.”
“That’s equally hard to do when I’m a suspect.” I shut the door of the fridge. “By the way, should you be fraternizing with me?”
He grinned. “I think that my reputation will survive.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”
“You know, I was teasing you this morning,” he said.
“This morning?” I tried to remember. What was he talking about?
“After the search, you thought I was going to arrest you, and I didn’t correct you.”
My heart raced. “You were going to arrest me?” I pictured myself in a jail cell with a filthy sink, a filthier metal toilet, and a mega-filthy mattress. I’d have a wall full of hash marks for the days I’d spent there and would pass the time making lists in my ever-present notebook.
“No! No arrest. You were mumbling. I didn’t think you’d remember. You were pretty sleepy.”
“I don’t remember, and thanks for bringing it to my attention—not!” I flipped his bacon over with a fork. I was frying about a half pound of bacon for him, don’t ask me why.
“Even though I can’t officially rule you out yet, you’re one of the worst criminals on the planet.”
“I’m guessing that’s good?”
“Trixie, can you think of anyone who might want to set you up?”
“Set me up? I don’t know anyone here, not really. I don’t really know Juanita that well or even the two waitresses on duty yesterday. I have a passing acquaintance with Clyde and Max. Of course, I know Mr. Farnsworth at the bait shop from when I was a kid. And I just met the mayor when he gave me flowers early this morning. So, who would want to set me up, and why?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“I appreciate that, Ty.” I really did. It made me feel a lot better that he was leaning toward being on my side. “I can help you. Please let me help. I’m going crazy.”
“The mayor gave you flowers?” he asked, then grinned.
“As a welcome-to-Sandy-Harbor gift.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “By the way, Mr. Cogswell’s girlfriend, Roberta Cummings, decided to have a little service at Happy Repose tomorrow morning at nine, then burial at the Sandy Harbor Cemetery. I’m going to go to the service. Would you like to join me?”
I was scheduled to finish my shift about eight. It would give me just enough time to hurry home and get ready.
“Okay.”
He turned to go, but just then we both heard a noise outdoors by the back door. I really should have locked the darn thing, but Max and Clyde used that door to go in and out of the kitchen, and it was the most convenient way to the Dumpster. It got a lot of use.
Ty walked toward the back door.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s probably Max or Clyde,” I suggested. I followed him, even though he had told me to stay put.
The noise grew louder; then suddenly there was silence except for Ty’s shallow breathing. I was holding my breath.
Then, I heard a whimper. That was me.
He pulled out his gun, reached for the doorknob with his free hand, and swung the door open.
Chapter 5
A happy bark greeted us. A dog. A big dog.
I let my breath out. The big blond ball of fur came bounding in, dropped to the floor, and rolled onto his…er…her back. Ty rubbed the dog’s stomach, and she wiggled with joy.
“You’re a sweetie. Yes, you are,” he said to the dog in a falsetto voice.
“She doesn’t have a collar,” he said to me in his Texas twang. “I’ll have to take her to the Humane Association. Maybe they can find a chip, and I can return her to his owner.”
I didn’t know much about dogs, but this one looked like a purebred golden retriever, and she wasn’t very old. Most of her hair was matted and dirty, and she was soaking wet.
“Do you want to share my breakfast, girl?” Ty asked the dog.
“Please keep her by the storage area, Ty. I can’t have her in my kitchen. I’ll make her some hamburgers,” I said. “She’s probably hungry.”
“Can you get her a bowl of water, too?”
“Sure.”
I put four hamburger patties on to fry. I really didn’t know how much a dog of this size would eat, because I had never had a pet in my life.
I got a couple of bowls, filled one with water, and set it down in front of her. She immediately started slurping the water. I cut up the cooked hamburger and put it in the freezer to cool.
I put that bowl down in front of her, and she quickly ate it. She was done in seconds and licking her mouth. She sat regally and stared at me, and I wondered if her owners were missing her.
I petted her head, then went to the sink and thoroughly washed my hands and the two bowls. I put the bowls under the sink, to be used just for the dog.
“Do you mind if I take her out front?” Ty asked. “I’ll keep her out of your way until the Humane Association opens and they can see if she has a microchip or has been reported miss
ing.”
“I’d rather you didn’t take her out front. There are customers out there.”
“Just a couple of plow guys before duty.”
“Still. It’s against health laws,” I pointed out.
“Mr. Cogswell was the only health inspector in this county. Until they hire someone to replace him”—Ty shrugged—“no one’s going to be the wiser.”
I was just about to point out that he was supposed to enforce the law, not break it, but I decided that it’d be better to get rid of him, and get him out of my kitchen.
I plated Ty’s order and handed it to him. “Go and eat, and take the blonde with you.”
My hair was blond, like the dog’s, but she had a better haircut than I had.
“That’s a great name,” Ty said. “Blondie.”
As if the dog knew her name already, she wagged her tail and licked Ty’s hand.
I stood there waiting for them both to leave, but instead of following Ty out the front door, Blondie walked toward me. She nudged my hand, then nudged it again.
“Blondie wants you to pet her,” Ty said.
“I’m cooking.”
“Just do it, and she’ll leave you alone.”
I squatted down and petted her. I should have gotten a dog or cat, since I didn’t have children with Doug. Maybe a pet would have made me feel less lonely.
I scratched her ears, and she closed her eyes. My heart melted when I held her cute little face in my hand.
“Okay, Blondie. Go with Ty. Don’t tell the health department. And no barking out front. Hear?”
She gave a small yip, as if she understood what I was saying.
“Trixie, can you join us?” Ty asked.
I looked through the pass-through window. I should mention that we don’t pass the food through the pass-window for some reason. The waitresses always pick up completed orders from the steam table’s shelf, and the pass-through is just used as a window.
“I can’t join you. More customers are coming in. Duty calls.”
He walked out of the kitchen with Blondie walking at his side as if Ty had owned her forever.
They say that a dog can judge a person’s character better than another human can. Judging by how Blondie warmed up to me, I was definitely a good person.
Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery Page 6