by Jessica Beck
As Sam Jackson stood in order to leave the diner, I asked, “Would you like some breakfast while you’re here?”
I never expected him to agree, but after a moment’s thought, he shrugged and said, “Sure, why not? How about a stack of hotcakes? I haven’t had good ones in a while.”
“Then you’re in for a real treat. My mother makes the best flapjacks around.”
“We’ll just see about that,” he said.
Four minutes after placing Jackson’s order, I picked up his pancakes, grabbed a container of syrup and a pat of butter, and delivered the feast to him. After he added the butter and syrup, he cut off a single bite and savored it as though it was an expensive steak and not a bargain stack of pancakes.
“Your mother is an artist,” he said with a grin.
“We like to think so.”
After he was finished, he tipped as much as the check was for.
I clucked at him, and then I said, “That’s entirely too much.”
“It’s not for you,” he said with the hint of a smile. “It’s for your mother.”
“Cooks don’t usually get tips,” I said.
“Well, this one deserves it.”
Jackson left the restaurant, and after I gave my mother his tip, she smiled and tucked it into her apron. “What a nice young man he must have been.”
I thought about telling her the handful of rumors I’d heard about Sam Jackson, but I decided there was no reason to ruin the happy mood she was in. “He surely liked your pancakes.”
“Then he’s got good taste, if nothing else,” she said with a smile.
“I’d have to agree with that,” I said.
After I walked back up front and put his cup and plate in the bin for dirty dishes, I wiped the counter down and waited for our next visitor of the day.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be as combative as Jackson had been.
I thought about what he’d told me, and I realized that I’d told him the truth.
For now, I’d cross his name off our list.
But I was going to use a pencil instead of a pen, just in case he’d been lying to me.
Who knew for sure, anyway? Suspects had lied to me before, and I knew that it would happen again, as long as Moose and I continued to investigate murder.
“Wow, this place is right out of the fifties, isn’t it?” a thin older man with a ready smile asked me as he walked into the diner an hour later.
“We like it,” I said.
“Oh, I do, too.” He stuck out his hand. “My name is Curtis Trane.”
“Hello, Curtis. I’m Victoria Nelson.”
“Victoria, tell your owner that I love this place.”
“You just did,” I replied. The man’s bright attitude was infectious, and I found myself smiling right back at him. “Sit anywhere you’d like. We don’t take reservations.”
He winked broadly at me. “In that case, I’ll take a seat at the bar. That’s where all the action is in this kind of place, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid that if you’ve come here for excitement, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I can’t imagine that’s true at all. If you have time to join me, I’d love the company.”
We were in a lull at the moment, with just a few diners lingering over their coffee and swapping stories. “I can’t promise you all of my attention, but I’ll do what I can.” Just to make sure he wasn’t getting the wrong idea, I added, “My husband works the grill later, but my mom is in charge of the kitchen now, so everything on the menu is good.”
“Then, what’s spectacular?” he asked. “I’m in the mood to be wowed.”
“Order the pancakes, then,” I said. “I know, it might seem like a rather ordinary thing to have in a diner, but folks come from miles around to have my mother’s hotcakes.”
“Which is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just called them pancakes and hotcakes in nearly the same breath.”
“The terms are interchangeable, at least here. We also call them flapjacks on occasion, but no matter the name, they are guaranteed to be delicious.”
“Then I’ll take a stack, and a glass of orange juice,” he said without even looking at his menu. “Feel free to place an order for yourself, on my tab.”
“Thanks, but I’ll just have juice. If I ate my mother’s pancakes every day, I wouldn’t be able to fit through the front door before too long.”
He patted his lean stomach. “I believe I can handle them.”
“Coming right up,” I said.
I gave the order to Mom as I said, “Make them good. I’ve been bragging about you.”
“No pressure there, then,” she said with a smile.
“You have nothing to worry about. No one can touch your pancakes; not even Greg.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that. As a matter of fact, I like his more, myself.”
“That’s because you’re both your own worst critics.”
“Maybe so,” Mom said as she finished the order and plated them. “There you go, Moose’s Best.”
“Mom’s Best, you mean,” I said with a wink.
“No matter who’s working the grill, everything we serve represents the diner.”
“I’ll be sure to let him know that,” I said with a laugh.
“There you go,” I said as I slid the plate in front of him. After getting him the fixings, and a juice for each of us, I took a seat beside him and watched him eat. If he was anything like Sam Jackson had been, he was about to smile, and I wanted to see it.
There was no grin, or much of any reaction, though.
“You don’t like them?” I asked.
“No, they’re quite good,” he said.
“But you’ve had better,” I added.
“No, I can say without a doubt that they are the very best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Then why the long face?” I was honestly curious why this happy man had just gone quiet.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he stood abruptly. “I’m not feeling well.”
He hadn’t paid for his meal, but that honestly wasn’t my concern at all. “Curtis, can I call someone for you?”
“I’m afraid at this stage, there’s nothing anyone can do for me.” He stumbled out of the restaurant, and I was so worried about him that I followed him out into the parking lot. Curtis shouldn’t be driving himself anywhere if he was feeling that bad.
I needn’t have worried about that, though. There was a long black limousine waiting, and a sturdy young man ready at the door. Curtis got in, and before I could reach them, he drove off.
“What was that all about?” I asked myself, but since I didn’t have an answer, I went back inside and quickly forgot all about him. As I cleared his place setting, I found a small plastic pickle beside his plate that I was certain hadn’t been there before.
An hour later, the driver came into the diner, alone.
“Are you Victoria?” he asked.
“I am. How’s Curtis doing? I was really worried about him.”
“He’s as good as he can be, considering that the doctors told him he should have been dead nine months ago.”
I felt myself deflate, and I slumped down to a chair. “I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. Honestly, I just met the man.”
The driver smiled. “Curtis has that impact on everyone he meets. He’s the finest man I’ve ever known, and I’m proud to call him my friend as well as my employer.” The man then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bill. “He felt bad about skipping out without paying, and he asked me to give you this as his way of apologizing.”
I took the bill almost automatically, and it took me a second to realize that it was a hundred dollar bill. “Let me get you the change.”
The man held both hands up. “Sorry. I was instructed not to take any change for the transaction.”
“But this is way too much,” I protested. He could have bought the next fifteen pancake breakfas
ts with the money.
“It’s the least he can do. Ma’am, Curtis is worth millions of dollars, for all the good it’s doing now when he’s dying. This gives him enjoyment. You aren’t going to rob him of that, are you?”
“You’re good,” I said. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“I’m Jeffrey,” he said.
I stuck out my hand, and he took it in his. Jeffrey’s grip was surprisingly gentle, given the size of the man. “It’s good to meet you,” he said.
“And you. I don’t know what to do about this, Jeffrey.”
“Give it away, if you’d like. Just don’t make me disappoint him. I couldn’t bear that, Victoria.”
“Then I won’t do it,” I said. I had a sudden inspiration, and asked, “Would you think he’d mind if I use it to buy breakfast for the next dozen folks who come in here?”
Jeffrey smiled. “I think he’d very much enjoy it.”
“Then that’s what I’m going to do.”
As the driver started to leave, I said, “Jeffrey, tell Curtis that it was an honor and a pleasure to meet him, and that he’s welcome back at The Charming Moose anytime.”
“I’ll do that,” Jeffrey said. “But don’t get your hopes up. I don’t think he’s got that much time left.”
I nodded sadly, and the driver added, “Don’t mourn him, Victoria. If ever there was a life worth celebrating, it’s his.”
“Thank you. Jeffrey, can I get you anything?”
“Thanks, but I’m needed elsewhere.”
He was at the door when he hesitated. “Did you find the pickle?”
“I did,” I said. “Does he want it back?”
Jeffrey just smiled. “No, it’s kind of his calling card. That’s how his family made their money, and he gets a kick out of giving pickles away.”
I laughed at the notion. “I’ll keep it someplace safe, then.”
After he was gone, I thought yet again about how fleeting life could be. Money was no guarantee of anything that really mattered, but I hoped that in the end, there was someone there to comfort Curtis Trane.
I felt quite a bit like Santa for the next little while, paying off the next dozen diners’ tabs that came my way. I didn’t tell a soul what was happening until it was time to pay, and I got to share Curtis’s story again and again. Somehow, I think that he would have approved of all of the delighted smiles and laughter his kind gesture had generated. Using his money, I’d been able to spread more sunshine than shadow, and at the end of the day, what better measuring stick was there?
Chapter 16
“How’s your morning been so far?” Moose asked me as he and Martha walked into the diner a little after I’d paid off the last bill.
“It’s been fine,” I said.
“I’m guessing that there’s more to say than that. What’s this I hear about you giving away free breakfasts? I know the place is yours to run as you please, Victoria, but do you honestly believe that it’s a good precedent to set? Folks are going to expect free food whenever we’re open.”
I didn’t know why it surprised me that Moose had already heard about what had happened, though he hadn’t gotten the complete story. Jasper Fork was like that. Folks might not get all of the details right through the grapevine, but they got the overall picture just fine, and usually in record time, as well. “I didn’t give any food away at all,” I said.
Moose’s right eyebrow shot up. “Are you saying that I heard it wrong, then?”
“No, but there’s a great deal more to it than that.” I explained to him what had happened, and my decision about how to deal with Curtis’s windfall.
I half expected my grandfather to scold me for my behavior, but when I was finished with my explanation, he nodded his agreement. “Victoria, that was precisely the right thing to do.”
“I’m glad you approve,” I said. “Jenny came in a few minutes ago. Are you ready to start sleuthing this morning, or is it too early to go knocking on doors?”
“I don’t know that we have a lot of choice in the matter, do you? I heard that Jessie has already left town, with the sheriff’s blessing. Who knows how long our other suspects are going to hang around?”
“I hadn’t heard anything about that,” I said. “I wonder how much she ultimately gave to Cal?”
“In the end, he got twelve thousand dollars,” Moose said.
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked. My grandfather had a great many connections around Jasper Fork, but this seemed even beyond his scope of reach.
“Let’s just say that I had a hand in getting him to return it all to her and leave it at that,” Moose said with a big grin.
“Why on earth would he give any of it back?”
“Well, it was either repay the money, or face a jail sentence. It turns out that Cal was doing a great deal more than using extortion and blackmail to accumulate funds. We’ll probably never know how much he made on the side in his position, but one thing’s certain: he won’t be making anything more there.”
“Did you get him fired, Moose?”
“Let’s just say that I played a small role in relocating him,” Moose said. “When will people around here learn that they lie to me at their own peril?” While I knew my grandfather as a sweet man at heart, I also understood that he had an edge of steel in his heart.
“Is he staying in town?”
Moose checked his watch. “Hardly. He has another ninety-seven minutes, but he’ll be long gone by then if he has any sense at all.”
“I’m glad that you helped Jessie,” I said.
Moose just shrugged. “She’s not a bad person at heart, Victoria. She just happened to fall for the wrong man. It’s hard to hold that against her, don’t you think?”
I thought about how Ellen had fallen for the same man several years before. “Yes, love can be a dangerous thing, can’t it?”
“Not for us, though,” Moose said with a smile.
“We both got lucky, and you know it,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own.
“I never denied it. So, who should we tackle first today?”
I conveyed the conversation I’d had with Sam Jackson earlier, and in particular, I stressed his concerns about Mitchell Cobb.
“I don’t know why, but I still have a hard time seeing that man killing anyone,” Moose said.
“I know what you mean, but Jackson was pretty adamant.”
“And you believed him?” Moose asked. “Is he really off the hook in our books?”
I nodded. “I think so. Why would he take the risk of incriminating himself for another crime if he weren’t telling me the truth?”
“You spoke with him; I didn’t. What does your gut tell you?”
“That he didn’t do it. He’s not innocent, not by anyone’s definition, but I’m fairly certain that he didn’t kill Gordon Murphy.”
“That’s good enough for me, then. Who does that leave us?”
“We’re still waiting to hear from the sheriff about Ellen and Wayne.” I’d looked around to be sure that Ellen was in the kitchen when I’d said it. “If Crazy Betty can confirm their alibis, then they’re both in the clear.”
“Then we can add their names to Jessie and Cal, who are both off the hook, and according to you, we can strike Sam Jackson’s name off as well.”
“In pencil, though,” I told Moose. “I’m willing to admit that I could be wrong about him.”
“If I’m placing a bet, it’s always going to be on you,” my grandfather said.
“Thanks,” I said. “That just leaves us with Opal, Robert, and Mitchell. I’m not afraid to admit it, Moose. I hope that Mitchell did it.”
“I know. It’s going to be hard to accuse either one of Ellen’s parents of murder when they were just trying to protect her.”
“If it is one of them, I’ll get no joy from finding a killer.”
“Then let’s go see what Mitchell has to say for himself,” Moose said.
The house
was clearly rented, and the state of the yard shouted that no homeowner lived at Mitchell Cobb’s address. The grass was a good week past when it needed to be mowed, and the landscape itself was devoid of flowers or shrubs or anything ornamental that might make the place feel the least bit cozy.
I tapped on the door, and to my surprise, it opened at my touch. Who doesn’t lock their door anymore in this day and age? “Hello?” I called out. “Mitchell, are you there?”
“I don’t think he’s home,” Moose said after a few moments of waiting.
“What do you think we should do?”
“Let’s go in and look around,” my grandfather said.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised by his suggestion. Moose liked to take chances, and a lot of the time I agreed with him. It was better to be bold and search than to wait for clues to come to us, but we were dealing with a potential killer here. Still, how many opportunities like this did we get? “Let’s do it, but we have to be careful.”
“Always,” Moose said as he walked into the house.
Once we were inside the house, my grandfather pulled the door closed behind us. It made me feel trapped for some reason, as though he’d just shut off our only means of escape.
“Victoria, are you okay?” Moose asked me.
“I’m fine. How should we handle our search?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve got a hunch that we don’t have a lot of time. I hate the idea of us splitting up, but we can cover a lot more ground if you start at the bottom and I take the top. We can work towards the center and meet back here.”
“Sure, that’s fine with me, as long as we reverse things. How about if I take the upstairs and you go to the basement? I’ve never been all that fond of the creepy things that live belowground, and you know it.”
“It’s a deal,” he said. “Call me on your cellphone if you find anything.”
“We’re not going to just shout out loud for one another?” I asked with the hint of a nervous smile. That was our normal way to communicate, after all.
“No, I think the less noise we make here, the better.”
“It’s a deal,” I said.