Baby Back Murder: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 2

by Summer Prescott

  “Everybody stumbles, Garrett, but the strong among us pick themselves back up and do what needs to be done. I give second chances, don’t make me regret it,” she said with firmness and compassion.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll try my best,” he nodded, avoiding her eyes.

  “One hour, Garrett.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he closed the door when she turned to head for the stairs.

  Eliza Bouchard was waiting for her, hands on hips, at the bottom.

  “What’s his problem? Drugs? It better not be drugs, I don’t put up with that garbage in my house,” she rasped.

  “He overslept,” Rossie said simply.

  “Mmhmm,” Eliza pursed her lips, skeptical. “Honey, if I find out that you’re one of those enabler types…” she began.

  “My late husband was a highly decorated United States Marine, and I really resent your insinuations. It’s insulting and you shouldn’t be so rude to people you don’t know anything about,” she replied, her hands balled into fists again.

  Eliza made a sound of shock and offense, then stepped right up to the much taller woman in front of her, eyes narrowed.

  “Now you listen here, Sally Sunshine… you don’t come into my house and tell me what I can and can’t say. Some of the folks who come through here are just temporarily down and out, and that’s fine, but I’ve dealt with more than my share of miscreants and bums and I won’t stand for any nonsense outta any of ’em. I keep on top of these losers so that I can stay safe, ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. If I find out that your employee is up to no good, he’ll be out on the street in a heartbeat, you can believe that,” she railed.

  “Wow, losers? Great attitude. Before you pat yourself on the back for keeping the riff-raff in line, why don’t you just think about seeing them as human beings instead of bad dogs that you have to whap on the nose with a newspaper?” Rossie challenged.

  “You got a lotta nerve, lady,” Eliza spat as Rossie headed for the door.

  “And you could use a healthy dose of compassion,” was her parting shot.

  Rossie hurried back to Hawg Heaven to do what she could to help José get ready for the lunch rush, in case Garrett decided not to show.

  ***

  Garrett came into work less than an hour after Rossalyn left the boarding house, showered and in fresh clothing, ready to work. He and José made an efficient team, even if Garrett was feeling a bit under the weather. The two men handled things so well that Rossie found much more time to spend talking to customers and getting other work done. When there was a lull between lunch and dinner, she impulsively decided to take a break and see what she could find out about what was happening at Franz Hellman’s place. The sheriff’s accusations had set her teeth on edge, and she had to get to the bottom of this mess before the incompetent fool decided to arrest her, while letting the real murderer go free. It crossed her mind that his nephew Jasper, who was already a fugitive, could’ve been involved, but she quickly dismissed the idea. The young man would stand trial for murder if he was discovered, so it would be crazy for him to come back to town and murder again.

  Rossalyn parked her car in Franz’s driveway, and she could see the yellow police tape which secured a good portion of the land around both barns. The old man was sitting on his porch with Barney, as usual, when she arrived.

  “How are you, Mr. Hellman?” she asked, standing at the bottom of the porch steps.

  Barney lifted his head, thumped his tail on the porch floor a couple of times, then eased back into sleep with a contented grunt.

  “Seems like you caused me some big trouble bringing them TV folks out here,” he observed dully.

  “I’m sorry things turned out that way. I actually assumed that you’d just tell them no when they called you,” Rossie admitted.

  “Shoulda,” Franz nodded. “But that little gal on the phone sweet-talked me into it,” he made a face.

  “Stella? Did you ever get the chance to meet her?”

  “Heck no. She talked me into letting them come out here and then I never saw hide nor hair of her. Actually, none of ’em came except for the boy who got himself killed. Oh, and the famous guy. He came out and thanked me. Was real sad. The guy who died was his buddy.”

  “Rick? Rick came out to see you?” Rossie asked, thinking that the caring gesture definitely seemed to be in keeping with the host’s outstanding character and kind heart. “That’s so nice.”

  “Yep, seemed like a nice fella. Wasn’t what I was expectin’ at all from a TV guy.”

  “Yeah, he does seem different than one would think,” Rossie agreed. “Hey, do you happen to know if Samuel is still parked down by the pond?”

  “I don’t see no reason why he wouldn’t be,” the elderly man shrugged.

  “I’d like to go talk to him for a moment. Do you think he’d mind?”

  “No idea. If you’re gonna head down there, why don’t you take Barney here with ya? Never know who might be lurkin’ about, and that ole boy could use a walk”

  The dog thumped his tail at the sound of his name, but didn’t bother opening his eyes.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s up for a walk,” Rossie smiled down at the dog.

  “Sure he is, ya just gotta explain it to him the right way. Hey, Barney, time to get up, fella. This lady needs a walk. You ready to go for a walk?” Franz encouraged, raising his voice to rouse the sleepy animal.

  Barney yawned, stood and stretched, bringing his chin to the ground with his wagging tail in the air.

  “Go on now,” Franz pointed down the steps to where Rossalyn stood, and the obedient hound padded down the steps, coming to a stop by her side and resting his head against her leg, waiting to be petted. “See, he’s ready,” the older man grinned.

  “Does he need a leash or anything?”

  “Nope, he ain’t never been on one, wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Just talk to him every now and again, he’ll stick to ya like glue,” he assured her.

  “All right then. Thanks for the loan,” she scratched the hound’s dome-shaped head affectionately, and got a slurp across the back of her hand for her trouble. “Come on Barney, let’s go see Sam.”

  They walked across the field and through the trees to the pond on the other side of the treeline. Sam’s camper was there, and he was tending a small fire down by the water’s edge, perched on a rock, staring at his bobber dancing up and down on the slight riffles that the wind made in the surface of the pond.

  “Ryan’s mom, right?” he smiled when he looked up.

  “Yes. Hi, Sam,” she moved to the firepit and told Barney to sit. He sat, then lay down.

  “How are you, ma’am?” the scruffy man poked at the fire with a stick.

  “I’m okay. How are you?”

  Barney rolled over, begging for a tummy rub and Rossie obliged.

  “I’m all right. Lots of folks poking around here. Police even came and talked to me.”

  “About the murder?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you see anything? Or hear anything?”

  “Nope. I keep to myself, that’s the only way to stay outta trouble,” he sighed and shook his head.

  “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing,” Rossalyn commented.

  “Me either. I hate to say it, but maybe the old man done it,” Sam whispered, glancing furtively about.

  “Franz? That’s impossible,” Rossie shook her head. “I don’t think he’d have the strength, and he’s such a sweet old man. A little cranky maybe, but that’s certainly not a crime.”

  “He’s got a temper on him, that’s fer sure,” Sam commented, staring at his bobber, hand at the ready on his fishing pole.

  “Hmm… it’s hard to imagine that. How did you two meet anyway?”

  “He had a sign in the front yard sayin’ that he needed some day labor. I went to work for him and stayed in my camper. Longer I stayed, more he found fer me to do,” he shrugged. “Now, I stay here all the time, and he gives me wo
rk whenever he has it.”

  Barney lifted his head, sniffing the air, and stood to his feet, as though he’d scented something.

  “Do you go somewhere warmer for the winter?” Rossalyn asked, watching the dog pad slowly over to the camper, nose to the ground.

  Trotting around to the back of the camper, Barney gave a soft woof, and began pawing at something that was underneath the vehicle. Sam answered her question, looking anxiously at the dog.

  “I don’t know, ain’t been here through a winter yet,” he replied, distracted by Barney’s antics.

  The dog suddenly came tearing around the corner of the camper and skidded to a halt in front of Rossalyn, a pair of faded and worn jeans in his mouth. He dropped them at her feet, and Rossie’s heart leaped to her throat when she saw bloodstains just above the hem of one leg. She caught Sam’s eye, trying hard to keep her expression neutral.

  “Dang dog,” he exclaimed, leaping from his seat and moving quickly around the fire pit to grab the pants. “I haven’t had a chance to wash ’em yet. He prob’ly smelled the fish guts on ’em.”

  “Fish guts?” Rossalyn repeated, trying to keep her voice from quavering.

  “Yep. Had quite the feast a coupla days ago. Haven’t done my laundry yet. I usually wait til I get a good sized pile, then I pay Franz to use his machines.”

  “Makes sense,” she nodded numbly.

  Barney tried to follow Sam when he scooped up the hound’s ‘prize,’ but Sam shooed him away and told him to git.

  “I’m sorry, we’ve bothered you enough,” Rossie stood, brushing the particles of leaves and dirt from her behind and heading back toward Franz’s house.

  “No problem. Send that boy of yours by if he wants to do some fishin. I could use the company,” Sam waved, then sat back down on his rock.

  “Sure thing,” Rossalyn lied, moving quickly toward the tree line. When she and Barney were hidden by the trees, her fast walk turned into a run, and by the time they were back out into the open field that led to Franz’s house, she kept walking, but went more slowly, so that she could catch her breath.

  She returned Barney to Franz, said her goodbyes, and as soon as she was out of sight, dialed her phone.

  “Morgan Tyler,” the officer answered on the first ring.

  “Hi Morgan, it’s Rossalyn.”

  “Rossalyn, how are you? Is everything okay?” his voice warmed considerably upon hearing who was on the other end of the line.

  “I’m fine, yes. Thanks for asking, but I wanted to tell you something. It’s probably not important, and I hope I’m not wasting your time, but, I saw something out at Mr. Hellman’s place today that I found rather disturbing,” she confided.

  “Oh?” Morgan’s tone was serious.

  Rossie told him about Barney finding the bloodstained pants by Samuel Preston’s camper.

  “Did you see what he did with the pants?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I was kind of freaked out at that point, and was concentrating on trying not to look concerned. I got out of there pretty quickly after that.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” the officer replied grimly. “Hellman’s place is still in town, not just in the county, so there’s no reason that I can’t go out there and talk to Samuel Preston. In the meantime, I’d suggest staying away from there for a bit, particularly since Sheriff Willis seems to be just itching to try to pin something on you.”

  “Understood. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime. And thanks.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  *

  It had been a long day. Ryan was at home, either doing his homework or playing video games if he’d already finished, and Rossalyn was beat. José and Garrett had gone home after cleaning up the kitchen and dining area for the night, and she had just finished tallying the day’s receipts. A trip to the bank, and home for movies with Ryan were on the agenda. She turned out the lights, locked the front door, and turned to head toward her SUV, when a snarling voice startled her.

  “Sheriff thinks you killed Parker,” Stella Castle growled from her left.

  Rossalyn spun around, and couldn’t see much more than the glow of the woman’s cigarette.

  “Stella?”

  “Think you’re pretty smart, doncha?” the woman accused, her voice breaking a bit.

  “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened to your… cameraman,” Rossie said, hesitant to let the angry woman know that Rick had told her about the relationship between her and the victim.

  “‘My cameraman’,” Stella mocked her bitterly. “You don’t know anything about him. He wasn’t just a cameraman, he was a human being,” her tears were evident in her voice, despite the fact that her face was still in the shadows.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Rossalyn said softly.

  She could deal much more easily with sadness than with unwarranted anger. Wishing that she could be at home with Ryan already, she rubbed her cold hands together, wanting to leave, but not feeling right about just walking away from the grieving woman.

  “Yeah, you’re sorry, all right. You’re about to be really sorry,” the woman stepped toward Rossalyn, getting close enough to show that she had an aluminum baseball bat in her hands.

  “Oh geez,” Rossalyn exhaled, backing away with her hands up in a placating manner. “You don’t want to do this,” she said in a level voice.

  “Don’t tell me what to do. You either killed my boyfriend or made it possible for someone else to kill him, so you don’t get to tell me what to do,” Stella hissed through her teeth.

  “Look, let’s talk. Just put down the bat, and we can talk this out,” Rossie continued backing slowly toward her car, hands out in front of her.

  A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek, despite the cold, when she considered just how much damage a baseball bat could do to her. She wanted to run screaming into the night, but had no idea if she was faster or had more stamina than the wild-eyed and emotionally overwrought young woman in front of her. Rossalyn’s plan was to back up until she reached her SUV, then hopefully she could get safely inside before started swinging. It seemed like a good plan, until Stella swung the first time.

  Rossie ducked.

  “Don’t,” she implored the young woman, backing up more quickly as Stella advanced, chest heaving. “This isn’t going to solve anything. It’s not going to bring Parker back. Let’s talk about this, please,” her heart was in her throat.

  “I’m done talking,” she snarled, raising the bat high to swing again.

  Tom Hundman darted out of the shadows and had Stella disarmed and restrained before she ever knew what hit her. The bear of a man held the now-screaming woman’s arms behind her.

  “Call the cops,” he instructed, Stella’s wild thrashing not affecting him in the least.

  “No,” Rossie said sadly, shaking her head.

  “What do you mean, no? She could have killed you with that thing,” he glanced down at the baseball bat, then back up at Rossalyn, incredulous.

  “But she didn’t,” Rossie replied, as Stella paused in her struggle long enough to listen. “She’s grieving. She didn’t know what she was doing. She just lashed out because she feels helpless and sad and angry. I’ve been there, I know,” she gave Tom a pointed look, then turned her attention directly to Stella. “I know how much it hurts,” she whispered, drawing closer, tears in her eyes. “My husband’s funeral was just a few months ago, and believe me, I understand how you just want to take a baseball bat and beat the crud out of something or someone, but it won’t make the pain go away, Stella. Nothing but time will do that,” Rossalyn stood directly in front of her. “Every day, I have to remind myself that I have reasons to get out of bed, when all I want to do is bury my head under the covers and cry. Every. Day.”

  She saw a single tear track down Stella’s cheek, and looked up at Tom. “Let her go.”

  “Are you crazy?” he gaped at her.

  Catching Stella’s gaze, Rossalyn said softly, “You
have to allow yourself to grieve for him. As much as it hurts, you need to let it out. Cry, scream, do whatever you have to do, but let it out. It’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  “If I start to cry… I may never stop,” Stella confessed, her lower lip trembling.

  “You will. It doesn’t feel like it now, but you will,” she promised. “Let her go,” she told Tom again, and shaking his head in a mixture of frustration and admiration, he did.

  “I’m sorry,” Stella gasped, the tears coming in a flood as she went into Rossalyn’s arms.

  “I know,” Rossie nodded, hugging the young woman tightly. “More than you realize… I know.”

  Without a word, Tom left as quickly and silently as he had come, picking up the baseball bat on his way. Rossie stayed comforting Stella for about half an hour, before they both got so cold and so emotionally wrung out that they were trembling.

  “Thank you for… understanding,” Stella attempted to wipe away the rings of mascara under her bloodshot eyes.

  “I’ve been there. I’m still there.” Rossie reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “If you need to talk, my cell number is on the back. Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

  Stella shook her head. “No, I’d rather walk. I need to clear my head.”

  Rossalyn nodded. “I get it.”

  She unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it. “Here, take this. I have a couple of others at home,” she insisted, despite the young woman’s protests.

  Once Stella had, however reluctantly, put on the coat and wandered away, a trembling Rossalyn got into her SUV and leaned her head against the seat, drained now that the adrenaline had ebbed. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, she wondered what Tom had been doing outside the café. Deciding that it must’ve been just a coincidence, she heaved a sigh and turned the key in the ignition, heading for the drop box at the bank.

  Wearily climbing the steps of her porch, two things immediately caught her eye. Stella’s baseball bat, and her loaned coat, which now smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. Gathering the items, she went inside, eager for a hug from Ryan, who was sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.