Baby Back Murder: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 2

by Summer Prescott

“Hey, Mom,” he called out, not taking his eyes from the movie that he was watching.

  “Hey, kiddo,” she replied, kissing the top of his head on her way to the kitchen.

  She opened the fridge and saw something inside that was wrapped up in newspaper. Frowning, she pulled the bundle out and opened it, startled when a cold dead fish eye gazed up at her. There were two fish in the bundle, gutted, but with their heads still on.

  “Ryan,” she called.

  The teenager ambled into the kitchen and saw the fish on the counter.

  “Oh, you found ’em,” he said, still munching his popcorn.

  “Where did these come from?”

  “Sam stopped by with them.”

  Rossie’s heart began to pound, and she felt an urgent compulsion to double-check whether or not she had locked the front door.

  “When?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “You know that you’re not supposed to open the door to strangers,” she reminded him lightly, not wanting to scare him.

  “I didn’t think Sam was a stranger,” Ryan replied, staring at her with those eyes that looked so much like Will’s. “What’s going on, Mom?”

  The drama and emotion of the day hit her like a ton of bricks, and Rossalyn shook her head. “I don’t know, Ry.”

  Sensing something, but not knowing what it was, Ryan put down his popcorn bowl and gave his mother a hug. “Want me to heat you up some leftovers?” he asked.

  Rossie smiled at her sensitive, thoughtful son, hugging him tight. “Nope. I’m good. Why don’t you make some more popcorn, and I’ll finish watching the movie with you,” she suggested.

  While Ryan took an envelope of popcorn and stuck it in the microwave, Rossalyn used her fingertips to gingerly take each fish by the tail and slip them into a plastic bag. When they were removed from the newspaper, the headline that had been underneath them drew her attention and nearly made her gasp aloud. “Sheriff’s Department Investigates Local Murder.”

  Was Sam trying to get her attention? Send her a warning? She saved the paper, putting it in a separate plastic bag, and sticking it back in the fridge. She would watch the movie with Ryan as she had promised, though her mind was racing; and in the morning, she’d be making another call to Officer Morgan Tyler. Glancing at the baseball bat that she had brought in from the porch, she was entirely grateful that Tom Hundman had left it for her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  *

  Rossalyn was in a quandary. She didn’t want to call Officer Morgan Tyler too early in the morning, feeling that it would be an unfair imposition on a man who had already been very accommodating, but the thought of Ryan walking to school after she left for work unsettled her. She could take Ryan to work with her, but she didn’t want to leave José and Garrett in the middle of the breakfast rush to drop him off at school, and she didn’t want him walking either, after having Sam stop by without invitation. Spying the baseball bat leaning up against the side of the refrigerator, she had an idea, and was out the door before she could start second-guessing her impulse.

  Tom Hundman answered Rossie’s timid knock on his door with a serious case of bed head and a frown which indicated that he’d not yet had enough of the cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Yeah?” he blinked at her, blanket lines still marking the side of his face above his beard.

  “I… uh, I wanted to thank you for helping me out yesterday.”

  “No problem,” Tom grunted, and moved to shut the door. Rossie spoke again before he did.

  “And… I was hoping that you might be able to help me out again,” she admitted.

  Her sleepy and slightly grumpy neighbor quirked an eyebrow at her, listening.

  “I think that it might be a little bit dangerous for Ryan to walk to school by himself right now,” she shivered, partially from cold and partially from the thought of anything happening to her good-natured teenager.

  She explained, briefly, about what had happened out at Franz’s house, and how Sam had stopped by yesterday, hoping that she wasn’t sounding like a paranoid helicopter parent.

  “So you want me to go have a conversation with this guy?” Tom asked.

  “No, actually. I’m going to talk to Morgan Tyler about him later, I was hoping that you might be able to just kind of keep an eye on Ryan, without him knowing about it, while he walks to school. You know, to make sure that…” she trailed off uncomfortably.

  “Yeah, I get it. I can do that,” he nodded.

  “I really appreciate it. If you want to swing by Hawg Heaven afterwards, I’m sure José is cooking up a really good special this morning, and yours will be on the house.”

  “I got errands to run,” was the gruff reply.

  “Okay. Well, thanks,” she blurted just before he closed the door.

  Rossalyn trotted back toward home, thinking that the moody veteran could be quite neighborly when it came right down to it. She’d made up her mind to try to break through his tough outer shell at some point, which she suspected that would be more of a wearing-down process than a jackhammer one.

  Making sure that José and Garrett had everything under control and were ready for the breakfast rush, Rossie hurried to her tiny office to make a phone call to Morgan. She told him about Sam stopping by, and about how she’d asked Tom Hundman to watch Ryan walk to school.

  “Interesting choice,” had been the officer’s comment on that.

  “What happened when you went out to talk to Sam?” she asked, hoping that he’d be able to provide information that would ease her fears.

  “Nothing. He wasn’t there. I checked at his camper, I looked all around the pond, thinking he may have just been in a different fishing spot, I asked Mr. Hellman, and he was nowhere to be found.”

  “Hmm… I wonder if he was dropping off fish at my house when you were over there looking for him.”

  “Possibly. I’ll give it another shot today.”

  “Did you see anything around the camper?”

  “Nope, not a thing. I asked Mr. Hellman if Sam had been in to do his laundry recently, and he said no, not for several days. So he either still has the bloodstained pants, or has disposed of them,” Morgan guessed.

  “Should I be worried about this? I sometimes feel like I’m overreacting,” she admitted.

  “Well, we don’t know what, if any, involvement that Mr. Preston may have had in what happened out at the Hellman place, but what we do know is that someone was murdered, and the suspect is still at large. Under those circumstances, no, I don’t think that you’re overreacting. It’s always best to err on the side of caution,” he reassured her.

  “So, what should I do?”

  “Just keep your level of awareness high, and do the commonsense things like locking up when you’re not at home. Tell Ryan not to answer the door when you’re not there. Is there any chance that you could break away today so that I can take a look at the newspaper that Preston left behind?”

  “Sure. I can meet you after the breakfast rush is over. Maybe around ten thirty?”

  “That’ll work for me. I’ll come over in a patrol car, that way, if Sam happens to be keeping an eye on your house, he’ll see a police presence. It may deter him, if he’s up to no good.”

  “Thanks Morgan, I really appreciate it,” Rossalyn shivered at the thought of being watched.

  “No problem. See you then.”

  He hung up and Rossie wrapped her arms around her midsection, thinking how strange it was that she’d come to live in a small town so that she and Ryan would be safe, yet in the past few months, she’d had to deal with two instances of violent crime. Knowing that she didn’t have time for such thoughts at the moment, she shook herself to refocus, and headed for the eating area.

  The morning flew by, and before she knew it, Rossie was letting José and Garrett know that she had to leave for a little while. When she pulled up in front of her house, Morgan was already there, sitting in his cruiser.

  “Hi, come on in,” she
greeted him.

  His leather gun belt squeaked as he mounted her front steps, and she was a bit intimidated when the tall, handsome cop followed her into her home. She wasn’t afraid of him, far from it—his presence provided more than a little comfort—but seeing a heavily armed authority figure reminded her of the stark reality of what had happened at Franz Hellman’s place.

  Rossie led Morgan to the kitchen, noticing that he was professionally scanning her home as he walked through it. She offered coffee, and he declined, so she went to the fridge and took out the baggie with the newspaper in it.

  “Do you always keep a baseball bat in your kitchen?” he asked, accepting the bag with the fishy newspaper in it.

  “Uh, no… I, uh…” Rossalyn stammered, remembering the incident with Stella, but not wanting to tell him about it. She didn’t want to cause the grieving woman any undue stress.

  “Something you want to tell me?” he gave her a pointed look. “If something out of the ordinary happened, no matter how trivial it may seem, you might want to share it.”

  Rossie sighed and told him about the incident with Stella, adding the disclaimer that she felt that it was just a stress-induced emotional outburst.

  “I’m a little concerned that this woman waited outside in the cold with a baseball bat. That’s not typical behavior, Rossalyn, even for someone who is grieving,” Morgan’s face was grave.

  “Well, I know, but…” she began to protest.

  “I’m going to look into Stella’s background a little bit. Just make sure that you don’t put yourself in a situation where you’re alone with either Sam or Stella,” he advised.

  “Ugh, what a mess,” Rossie shook her head.

  “I’m glad that you called me. I have some buddies over at the sheriff’s department. I’ll see if I can find out whether they have any leads on the murderer, and I’ll get back to you once I’ve talked to Samuel Preston and Stella Castle. In the meantime, be careful and don’t hesitate to give me a call if anything else comes up.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  “I’d also like to take the fish that were left and the baseball bat, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Rossalyn replied, heading for the fridge. “Why do you want the fish?”

  “Just being thorough,” his response was casual. Too casual.

  “Poison,” she whispered, as the possibility dawned on her. “I didn’t even think of that. I mean, I was just going to throw it out, because I can’t even imagine having to cut the head off of an animal, even if it is just a fish, but it hadn’t occurred to me to think that they might be dangerous,” she sighed.

  “Chances are that they’re perfectly fine, but if they aren’t, I want to know about it,” Morgan said quietly. “Keep your chin up.”

  “Always do,” she murmured, following the officer out the door to head back to work.

  ***

  Morgan Tyler didn’t say anything to Rossie, but after his conversation with her regarding the baseball bat incident in the parking lot, he had to wonder just what Tom Hundman was doing lurking in the shadows outside Hawg Heaven as well. He didn’t know the burly biker well, and had never had occasion to arrest him, but he was regarded with a degree of suspicion by local law enforcement, largely due to a period of time after his return from Iraq, when the veteran seemed to be out of control. He mentally added Tom to the growing list of leads that he intended to follow up on, despite the fact that he wasn’t technically supposed to be investigating the case.

  CHAPTER TEN

  *

  José’s baby back ribs were quite a hit with the patrons, and Hawg Heaven was packed on the frigid early December night. He’d served up the fall-off-the-bone ribs with creamy coleslaw, jalapeño cornbread and smoky baked beans that had thick, crisp chunks of bacon sprinkled on top. The interior of the small café smelled amazing, and diners seemed reluctant to leave the warm, fragrant confines to venture back out into the cold, leaving Rossalyn wondering where she was going to put everyone. There were to-go orders being called in, and José and Garrett were hustling to keep up with food production.

  Rossie put a plate down in front of a gentleman and had been rushing around so much that it took her a minute to recognize him.

  “Mr. Hotchkiss, how are you?” she asked, when it dawned upon her that the hungry customer was Forrest Hotchkiss, the man that she’d met at Franz Hellman’s barn.

  “I’m good. How about yourself?”

  “Busy, but that’s better than the alternative, so I can’t complain,” she grinned.

  “You hear about what happened out at Franz’s place?” he asked, tucking a napkin into the neck of his shirt.

  Rossalyn nodded. “Yeah, it’s so awful. How’s Mr. Hellman handling it?” she asked, knowing that the two men were friends.

  “Franz is a tough old bird,” he grinned. “He just makes sure that he doesn’t go anywhere without that flea-bitten hound of his now.”

  “Barney doesn’t seem like he’d be that much protection,” she chuckled.

  “Don’t let that sweet face fool ya,” Forrest folded back the sleeves of his expensive shirt to keep them out of the barbeque sauce. “That dog’s got a mean streak to him. These ribs look mighty good,” he gazed down at the food with obvious relish.

  “Well, you enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else. Nice seeing you again,” Rossie smiled and moved on to the next table.

  “You too,” he gave her a little wave and sunk his teeth into the tender ribs.

  While Rossalyn’s back was to the door, Tom Hundman came in, looking for a seat. Apparently he had decided to take her up on her offer of a free meal now that Ryan was safely home. Forrest Hotchkiss saw the biker standing near the entry and waved him over.

  “Go ahead, sit on down, boy. Space is at a premium in this place,” he smiled, dabbing the sauce from his hands with another napkin.

  Tom came and stood silently by the chair that Forrest had indicated, seeming to weigh his options, then finally, with a look of resignation, he sat.

  “Long time,” Hotchkiss commented, digging into his corn pudding with obvious delight.

  “Yeah,” Tom grunted, staring at the table top.

  “Hi, Tom,” Rossalyn greeted the biker. “Ryan made it home okay?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted again.

  “Awesome, thanks so much. Wanna try the special?”

  “Yeah.” There was clearly a theme to his responses.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Rossie asked.

  “Sweet tea.”

  Counting herself lucky to have elicited two syllables in a row from the reticent biker, she smiled and moved behind the counter to place the order and get his drink.

  “Here you go,” she hustled back to the table and set the tea in front of Tom.

  His left hand caught her attention.

  “Oh my goodness, are you okay? What happened to you?” she asked, seeing his bruised and cut hand.

  “Fell off my bike,” he drawled sarcastically.

  Frustrated, but knowing that she didn’t have time to try to drag the real story out of him, she gave him an equally snarky reply.

  “Aww… that’s too bad. Maybe you should check into training wheels,” she smiled tightly, moving toward another table.

  “You know, Tommy, the church softball team could really use a guy like you next Spring,” Forrest commented, paying strict attention to his food. “We’re having a little get together at Bobby Richards’s house tomorrow night, if you’d like to…” he began.

  “Wow, that didn’t take long,” was the sullen response.

  “I’m just trying to be neighborly…”

  “Well, don’t. Don’t try to include me, don’t try to get me involved, it ain’t happenin, get it?” Tom growled.

  “You can’t just keep to yourself and hide forever you know.”

  “Who says?” the biker shot back, refusing to look at his dining companion.

  “What happened to that hand
? Another bar brawl? You’re not a kid anymore, Tommy. Your actions have consequences. If you’re needing a job, I could use a courier to make deliveries for me in the city and…”

  “I already have a job. Just because I don’t wear a suit and carry a briefcase, don’t mean that I ain’t workin,” Tom’s eyes were like chips of ice. “I got my own business, and you should mind yours,” he warned.

  Forrest held his hands up.

  “Just trying to help. No harm, no foul,” he went quiet, savoring his food.

  Tom looked agitated, and the next time that Rossalyn came bustling by, he caught her attention.

  “Your food should be out shortly,” she informed him, a touch breathless from running back and forth to the kitchen.

  “Make it to go,” he directed, not quite meeting her eyes.

  “Not a problem,” Rossie agreed.

  When she walked to the table with a massive bag of food a few minutes later, the biker stood up, took the bag, tossed a twenty down on the table and headed for the door, exiting before she could run after him to try to give him his money back. She glanced quizzically at Forrest Hotchkiss, who shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, “I’m just as curious as you are.”

  Another patron caught her attention, and the time that she was done dealing with her, Forrest was gone, leaving the money for his bill and a sizable tip, on the table.

  ***

  “You must be Sam,” Officer Morgan Tyler greeted the man sitting near the edge of the pond.

  “I didn’t do nothin,” Samuel Preston replied crossly, staring out at the water, fishing pole in his hand.

  “Oh, I understand. I know you’ve probably had a lot of folks out here asking you questions, and I’m real sorry about that. It’s just…” Morgan hunkered down on a rock a few feet away from where Sam sat, feet splayed out in front of him. “I’m really hoping you might be willing to help me out here.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “Well, it seems to me that, since there’s only one road in here, it’d be pretty easy to keep tabs on who’s coming and going.”

  “Unless they cut through the woods and walked in,” Sam shrugged.