Baby Back Murder: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 2

by Summer Prescott

  “Oh, yes, of course Jason gave me the dish. Thanks for washing it. That’s not why I’m here though.”

  Tom looked at her suspiciously, crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, looking a bit like a surly bear who was woken from hibernation a bit too soon.

  “Course I washed it. Ain’t like I’m a barbarian. Stuff sticks like glue to those dishes if you don’t get ’em under water as soon as they’re emptied. What do you need?” his gruff tone almost made her hesitate to ask him for help, but necessity won out over timidity.

  “I just bought some decorative items for Hawg Heaven and I need to get them cleaned up and attached to walls. I was hoping you might be able to help me out,” Rossie explained.

  “What, like pictures?” he grimaced.

  “No, like motorcycle parts. I have the box of ’em in my car if you want to take a look.”

  Tom’s eyebrows raised. Her answer was clearly not what he’d been expecting.

  “Lead the way,” he muttered, his curiosity winning out.

  Rossalyn opened the back door of the SUV and pointed him toward the box, telling him briefly what she wanted to do, as he perused the items.

  “Hi, Mr. Hundman,” Ryan called from the front seat.

  “Hey, kid,” was the grunted response. “All right,” he nodded finally, reaching in to pick up the box. “I’ll get it cleaned up and working, and bring it over to the store when I’m done,” he headed back to his house without a backward glance.

  Rossie closed the cargo space, yelled her thanks, and hurriedly got back into the SUV to get out of a stiff breeze that had cropped up.

  “All right, let’s get lunch,” she smiled at Ryan, dabbing a tissue under her nose.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  *

  “Hi, this is Stella,” Rick Austin’s production manager answered the phone politely enough when Rossalyn called.

  “Hello, this is Rossalyn Channing. I own the place where you and…” Rossie began, only to be impatiently cut off.

  “I know who you are. Did you get the number of the guy with the barns full of stuff?” she demanded, no longer sounding sweet and helpful.

  “Yes, I did,” she started to say something else, but was cut off again by the brusque young woman on the other end of the line.

  “Great, let’s have it,” she directed impatiently.

  Rossie gave her Franz’s name and number, and had thought that she might try to prepare the young woman for the fact that he might not be entirely open to the idea of having a film crew on his property, but after experiencing Stella’s borderline rude behavior, she decided to let her figure that out for herself.

  “If this doesn’t pan out, you will have really wasted some valuable production time,” Stella observed.

  “Perhaps if you’re nicer to Franz than you have been to me, it will work out, and if it doesn’t, you have no one to blame but yourself. Good day, Miss Castle,” Rossie snipped, tired of being treated rudely. She hung up before the insufferable woman could reply.

  Rossalyn shook her head after the interaction, wondering how some people managed to go through life being so darn nasty, and was startled from her thoughts by the sound of a loud banging out in the eating area. Shooting up from her office chair and hurrying toward the front of the café, she was relieved to see that the noise came from Tom Hundman, who was installing anchors in the walls to hang her new décor. Customers didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by the hulking presence of the biker.

  There was a commotion in the kitchen, and Rossie looked back in alarm, seeing José gesturing toward someone who was outside her line of sight. Seeing that Tom had her projects entirely under control, she scurried to the kitchen to see what could possibly be happening.

  “I told you to watch the sausages,” José was admonishing Jason, who glowered back at him, hands on hips.

  “You’re not my boss,” the young man growled.

  “What’s going on here?” Rossalyn demanded, her nostrils stinging with the smoke from something that had been on the grill and was now in the trash can.

  “I told Jason to watch the sausages while I delivered an order. That’s all he had to do,” José fumed. “And he let them burn. Now we’re out of the daily special, and we have to tell the guests who ordered them that they have to have something else,” the cook was furious.

  “Okay, José. Let’s keep things in perspective here. Everyone makes mistakes. Just show me who the guests are and I’ll let them know that their dinner is free. We’ll make them whatever they want,” Rossalyn replied calmly, trying to defuse the situation. She’d never seen the easygoing cook angry before, and he was incensed at the moment. “Who do I need to talk to?” she asked, just as the smoke alarm let out a piercing tone that wouldn’t stop.

  In a split second, the kitchen ceiling sprinklers came on, dousing them all.

  “Do you want me to disable it?” Jason called, hollering loudly to be heard over the din.

  “No!” Rossie shook her head, shielding her eyes with her hand to see him. “They have laws about that sort of thing. Just push the reset button and open the back door and windows. I’ll go talk to the customers,” she ran from the kitchen, her hair and clothing soaked. Tearing out of the kitchen door, she nearly ran full-tilt into the broad chest of Rick Austin, who looked concerned.

  “Are you okay? Do you need help?” he asked, taking in her disheveled appearance.

  Rossalyn had never wanted to disappear into thin air more than she did at that very minute.

  “No, I’m fine, I just need to make an announcement,” she swiped her sodden hair out of her eyes, feeling her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

  “Oh, well… good,” he watched her as she took charge and captured the attendance of the handful of patrons in the café, several of whom were with his production company.

  Tom Hundman said nothing, but made his way back to the kitchen. He’d been gone only a matter of seconds and the blaring alarm ceased, much to everyone’s relief.

  “I’m so sorry for all of this,” Rossalyn announced to the startled diners. “We had a bit of smoke back in the kitchen, no fire or anything, just some sacrificial sausages, and it set the smoke alarm off. Everything is fine, but those of you who ordered the sausage will need to make another selection, and your meal will be on us. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

  “Heck, you don’t need to do that, ma’am, I’ll be more than willing to pay for my food,” a man Rossie recognized as Forrest Hotchkiss, the nice gentleman who stored things at Franz’s barn, said loudly.

  “Me too,” said a construction worker, who raised his glass of iced tea.

  “That goes for me too, and anybody who disagrees, I’ll pay for their meal,” a traveler added.

  Rossie’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears at the generosity of these strangers, both locals and travelers.

  “Thank you all. Thank you so much,” she said, before turning to go survey the damage in the kitchen.

  “You seem to bring out the best in people,” Rick mused as she neared where he was standing.

  “Except Stella,” Rossalyn replied, speaking before thinking. Realizing her rudeness, she clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” she tried to backtrack, taking her hand from her mouth.

  Rick chuckled. “Stella can be rather abrasive—she thinks it’s part of her job—but she’s very good at what she does. She was able to set up an appointment with Mr. Hellman. Thank you so much for helping to make that happen.”

  “You’re welcome,” she murmured, stunned that Franz hadn’t turned the obnoxious woman down flat.

  “Believe it or not, she has a way with people when she wants to,” Rick grinned.

  “I’m sure,” Rossie shivered a bit, her damp clothing making her chilly.

  “I know you have to get going, but can I ask you a favor?” the TV host smiled warmly. How could she resist?

  “Sure, shoot,” she clamped her jaws
shut to try to prevent her teeth from chattering.

  “I like to wear tshirts from local areas when I’m filming. Makes me feel more authentic, and it’s a little bit of free advertising for the business owner. Is there any chance that I could get one of those?”

  He pointed at the soggy Hawg Heaven t-shirt that she was wearing. The shirt was black and featured an adorable pink pig wearing a halo. There were flames on the sleeves, and the Hawg Heaven name and contact info on both the front and back. Rick Austin wearing it on national television could only help her bottom line.

  “I’d be honored,” she exclaimed. “In fact, since it’s cold out, why don’t I give you a hoodie, it’ll be warmer, and I can supply your crew with tshirts.”

  “Oh you don’t have to do that,” Rick protested.

  “No, I’d love to,” she assured him. “I’ll go grab some for you now, I have to go get myself something dry anyway. I’ll be right back,” she promised, heading for her tiny office, where the tshirts were kept.

  She slipped out of her wet shirt and into a hoodie, grabbed one for Rick, along with tshirts for his crew and a handful of Hawg Heaven baseball caps, and made her way back out to the eating area. She was only gone a short time, but when she returned, most of the customers were gone, with the exception of Rick and a couple of his crew.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked José, who was standing behind the register, looking sheepish.

  “I made their orders and they took them to go. Everyone paid and they took up a collection to help fix anything that went wrong in the kitchen,” he replied, holding up a plastic food basket that had several bills in it.

  Stunned, Rossie’s eyes filled with tears again.

  “See,” Rick observed. “Like I said, you seem to bring out the best in people.”

  She handed him the merchandise, wiping her eyes.

  “Thanks for everything. I’ll probably be back in for a meal or two. We don’t film out at the Hellman place until tomorrow. I’ve got one of my guys out there now, taking some generic footage. You’re welcome to come out and watch us filming tomorrow, if you’d like,” the host offered.

  “I appreciate it, but I’ll need to be here,” Rossie smiled, pulling herself together.

  “Well, drop on by if you change your mind. If my team can meet here a little bit before you open tomorrow, that would be great. We like to get an early start, and they loved your breakfast menu.”

  “No problem, I’m sure José will whip up something special.”

  “I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”

  “See ya,” Rossalyn waved, then wrapped her arms around her middle, unable to shake the chill of having been wet. Her hair still hung limp and damp, and she desperately hoped that her mascara hadn’t smeared.

  “We have a problem,” José sighed after everyone had gone.

  “Oh that’s okay, we’ll get the water cleaned up, don’t worry.”

  “No, not that,” he shook his head.

  “What is it then? What’s wrong?” Rossie’s heart sunk.

  “Jason left.”

  “To go change?”

  “Nope. He… left,” the cook hung his head. “I’m sorry, it was my fault for yelling at him.”

  “Well, hopefully I can talk to him about it,” she sighed. “I hope we don’t get hugely busy for dinner tonight,” she worried. “It’ll just be you and me.”

  José was about to respond when the front door opened, and a thin man with a blond crewcut came in.

  “I’ll go help Mr. Hundman clean up,” José said quietly, slipping back into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” Rossalyn greeted the new arrival. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’m sorry to say, we’re out of the special of the day,” she said, handing him a menu when he sat at the counter.

  “Oh, I’m not here to eat,” he replied softly. “Are you hiring?”

  Rossie paused for a moment, considering the fact that Jason had just walked off the job without even speaking to her about it, and right before the dinner hour.

  “Maybe. Do you have any experience?”

  “I was a cook in the Navy, and I know my way around a kitchen,” he shrugged, seeming almost painfully shy and speaking in a low voice.

  She stared at him, thinking. “When would you be able to start?”

  “As soon as you needed me, ma’am.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Garrett. Garrett Marshall.”

  “I’m Rossalyn,” she shook his hand, which was calloused and rough. “Well, Garrett, I can’t guarantee you that it’ll be a long-term thing, but if you can fill out some paperwork and start right now, I could certainly use some help.”

  “Oh yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to start right now,” he nodded earnestly.

  “Perfect. I’ll go get you some paperwork,” she eyed him closely. His cheeks were hollow and he was very pale and thin. “Have you eaten today, Garrett?” she asked, on a hunch.

  “Oh. Well. I… uh… no ma’am,” he admitted, blushing to the tips of his ears.

  “Okay, your first task will be to eat a sandwich while you’re filling out your paperwork. I’ll be right back.”

  She stopped in the kitchen, where Tom Hundman and José were nearly done cleaning up the puddles left by the sprinkler system, and asked José to fix a smoked ham and swiss sandwich with all the fixings for their newest employee, then she went to the office for the forms that he would need. By the time she came back with the forms and a pen, Garrett, who looked to be about her age, was happily munching on a sandwich. She handed him the paperwork and let him know that she’d be in the kitchen if he needed anything.

  Garrett tentatively opened the door to the kitchen, carrying his empty plate and completed application.

  “Go ahead and put that down over there,” Rossalyn pointed to the dishwashing area, “then let’s go back up front to talk about your application.”

  When they were seated at the counter, she quickly scanned over the document.

  “You haven’t been here in town very long,” she observed.

  “No ma’am. I’m living at the boarding house until I can save enough money to rent an apartment or something,” Garrett replied, looking down.

  “Nothing wrong with that. I’m new here too.” She read further down on the application and tried not to react. “Says here that you were in jail for a bit. Tell me about that,” she said quietly, without a trace of judgment in her voice.

  “My mom was real sick,” he began, clearly embarrassed. “We couldn’t make rent, we didn’t have food… she had to eat, cuz she sure wasn’t gonna get better by starving, so, when my neighbors were gone at work, I went in their house and took some food.”

  “You were sent to jail for taking some groceries?”

  “No ma’am. When the neighbors came home, they figured out what had happened, and the meanest dude living there came over to confront me about it. He said some bad things about my family, and said he was gonna go into the kitchen to take the food back. I tried to block him from coming into the house, and he got mad and threw a punch. My instincts kicked in and I punched him back. He pressed charges, and since I was trained in self-defense, the judge decided that I was a deadly weapon and I got charged for assault with a deadly weapon. I admitted that I hit him and told ’em that it was self-defense, but they convicted me anyhow. I’m not a violent person, ma’am, but if you don’t want me to work here, I’ll understand. Seems like nobody wants to hire an ex-jailbird,” Garrett finished, dejected.

  “First of all, you have to stop thinking of yourself as a jailbird. Your past is behind you, leave it there, and secondly… how is your mom? Is she okay?”

  Garrett’s jaw flexed rapidly and he swallowed, shaking his head. “No ma’am, she passed while I was in jail. I can only hope that she wasn’t ashamed of me,” his voice caught and he cleared his throat, looking down at his hands on the counter in front of him.

  “I’m sure she wasn’t ashamed,” Rossalyn’s heart ached for the
broken man in front of her. “Don’t they have some sort of compassionate release thing, where you could have gotten out for a few days to be with her at the end?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but by the time the paperwork was approved, it was too late. I never got to say goodbye.”

  “I’m so sorry, Garrett. That’s awful.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it was,” he nodded, not looking at her. “S’pose I’d better get going now. How much do I owe you for the sandwich?”

  “We’ll just count it as your employee meal. Follow me and I’ll introduce you to José,” she said kindly, standing up and gazing at her newest employee with reassurance.

  “Most obliged,” he nodded once, quickly, and followed her to the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  *

  “Barney, quit your hollerin!” Franz Hellman shouted at his aging, partially deaf, hound dog.

  He’d had Barney since he was a pup, and wasn’t quite sure if the old dog actually had hearing problems, like that fancy vet said, or if he just got more opinionated as he aged. The grey-muzzled boy had been pacing back and forth in front of the back door, baying, whuffling and snuffling like he’d treed a raccoon. This was highly unusual behavior for the geriatric canine, who typically spent the bulk of his days curled up either on the porch, or in colder weather, on his well-loved dog bed.

  “Barooooo…” Barney answered back, his eyes glued to the bottom of the door. “Baroooo!”

  “Confound it,” Franz sighed, heaving himself up from his spot on the couch. He figured there was probably a stray cat roaming around the property giving Barney fits, so he’d just let the old boy chase it out of sight and be done with it.

  “My coffee’s gonna be cold you know,” he sighed, scratching the agitated pet between the ears, then opening the back door, which was almost never locked.

  Franz loved living in the country and never having to worry about locking his doors. Barney, rather than tearing out of the house like his owner thought that he would, got to the bottom of the back steps, nose to the ground, and stopped. He raised his head, his sensitive nose scenting the slight breeze, and whimpered, his tail tucking unconsciously between his legs. Franz frowned at the sight. Though he was old, Barney had always been fearless and ready to confront whatever awaited him. To see him tremble a bit was disconcerting, to say the least.