Murder to the Max
Page 16
He floated behind me and watched me tap the order into the computer. "In my day, waitresses just used a pad and pen. Didn't need none of them new-fangled computers to place orders or tell 'em how much to charge."
"What do you mean, in your day? You've only been dead like ten minutes. Not much has changed in that time."
"You know what I mean," he snapped. "And if you don't mind leaving out the dead comments, that'd be swell. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah. I meant when I was young, smart aleck. Emily waitressed out at the diner for a spell back when we first got married. I was just getting our business started and we needed all the money we could get just to pay the bills. We didn't use those fancy plastic diapers, neither."
He watched his wife and kids for a few minutes, then turned back to me while I was making tea. Darren still wasn’t back, but the rest of them seemed at ease with each other, even though there was a sadness to them.
"Anyway,” he said, “you figured out who did me in yet?"
I shook my head. "Hunter's locked in that it's Larry Huffman, but it just doesn't feel right to me." I stacked some appetizer plates and silverware on my tray.
"Yeah, I just came from seeing Numbnuts. Boy, for bein' educated, he sure don't have much people smarts." He frowned. "Says he's exploring all avenues but that's a crock and you and I both know it. He’s still burning daylight hasslin’ Joe too. Apparently, it's gonna be up to you."
I sighed and shook my head. "Well, yay. Just what I want to do. Piss off the best guy I've found in forever so I can go chasing after suspects when he's already got a perfectly good one. I did that last time and he didn't speak to me for days. Thanks, but I'll pass." I didn’t see the need to tell him about my visit from Larry’s mom just yet.
Just as I was about to go to the back to make salads, something clattered to the floor behind me.
I turned, and there stood Louise, white as a sheet. "Daddy?"
Max floated over to her. "Sweet Pea? You can see me?"
She just nodded, mouth agape.
I looked over her shoulder to see if the family was paying attention and was thankful that they weren't. Darren was back and sliding into the booth and they were talking to him. I pulled her farther into the waitress station, behind the wall that separated it from the dining room.
"Uh, I'm just gonna leave you two alone." I turned to walk away, but stopped. "It's none of my business, but you may want to meet up somewhere else if you're going to tell your mom about this," I told her. "In my experience, folks don't always take it well the first time they realize ghosts are a thing."
That, and I really didn't want that level of drama in the dining room where anybody could walk in off the street at any moment. Again, the whole Ghost Hunters tangle.
I went out to entertain the rest of the family while Max and Louise caught up. She came back a few minutes later, her eyes red. I made it a point to catch her eye and look pointedly at her mom. She just gave me a tiny shake of her head.
Emily saw she'd been crying and scooted over so she could sit back down, then put her arm around her. "Oh Sweet Pea, come here. I miss him too." Her eyes misted over and she pulled her daughter closer. I took that as my cue to leave.
After I made the salads and took them out, another table came in and I got busy for a few minutes, during which time Max disappeared. Bobbie Sue came out to get a glass of water while I was pouring a Coke and glanced into the dining room.
"You know that's Max's kin, right?" she asked, motioning toward their table.
"Yeah, Rae and I went out to the shop with Emily to look for the safe and pick up his ledgers, so we met. Plus, Max just showed up and ran into Louise." I told her about the incident, then about the receipts Emily found.
She pinched her lips together, thinking. "I didn't know him well enough to judge whether or not he was the type to step out. Didn't hear any rumors about it, but that don't mean anything, especially if he was takin' it outta town. It sure would be good if Max could remember." She rubbed her chin. "Or if there was a way to tell if he was lying. That mind stuff of yours don’t work on ghosts, does it?"
“No, it doesn’t.” I shook my head. "Scott and Louise look like her," I said, watching them interact. “What was the deal with Darren? How did he end up with them?”
"His daddy ran off when he was a baby and his mama died of cancer when he was still in grade school, if memory serves." She drained half her water glass then filled it up again. "Tell Emily lunch is on the house and offer her my condolences."
I'd like to say Bobbie Sue was a s'more—all crunchy on the outside, but gooey on the inside, but that's not exactly accurate. She was more like a Tootsie Pop. Hard as nails on the outside, but gooey and chocolatey on the inside unless you tried to bite into her. Then she'd rip your fillings out.
Chapter Twenty Six
I thought it would be slow since it was a weekday, but I forgot that it was the final day of the fishing tournament. It wasn't crazy, but I made decent money. By three, business had slowed to a trickle and Sarah came in to replace me. Since it had been slow after two o'clock or so, I had all of her prep work done for her. Bobbie Sue came out to take a break with us.
"So how are things going for the Labor Day party?" Sarah asked. Every year, Bobbie Sue and Earl put on three big shindigs: The Fourth of July, Labor Day, and New Year’s. Labor Day is a more laid-back party because most of the tourists are gone and there are no other big events held around the same time.
They don't charge for any of them, but do take donations, and all of those go to local veterans groups and pet rescues. Like I said, Tootsie Pop.
"They're going," she said, leaning back in the booth and propping her feet up. "Everything's done. All I gotta do is get the side stuff and paper goods, and find one more band."
She sucked in a breath and put her palm to her forehead, groaning. "Lord have mercy, the bands! I'd contracted Wheeler Construction to rebuild the stage," she said. "Some of the boards are rotting through and I can't use it as-is." She ran her tongue over her teeth. "Fan-freakin-tasic. Now what?"
"Emily told us she was going to get the business back up and running," I said.
"Yeah, but how long is that gonna take? I ain't got but a couple weeks to get that done."
"That, I can't say," I replied. "Soon though, I hope, because right now, I have a giant mosquito magnet in my backyard."
I shot the bull with them for a few more minutes then headed over to Brew to see Rae. It was just about time for her to close up and we were gonna hang out at my place.
When I got there, she was finishing up the paperwork in her office, so I made myself a triple Lively Latte, careful to clean up the mess when I was done. After pulling a cream-cheese danish out of the case, I plopped down in one of the chairs by the window. Just as I was getting comfortable, my phone dinged with a text.
H: Just wanted to let you know that Joe’s wallet turned up in the mailbox today, just like the ones I was telling you about.
N: Does that mean he’s off the suspect list?
There was a long pause before he answered.
H: I don’t know. It means I can’t say for sure that he was lying about being in Atlanta. That’s as far as I’m going for now.
I sighed. That was better than nothing, I supposed. We really needed to catch that kid.
People-watching is one of my favorite pastimes, so I sat there enjoying my pastry and coffee, watching the world go by.
I'd just settled in and relaxed when a familiar shaggy red head passed right by the window. He bumped into a man in a suit, though not nearly as hard as he had me. I narrowed my eyes and flicked my finger to tie his shoelaces together as I jumped to my feet and bolted out the door.
The little thief tripped and I snagged him by the scruff of the neck before he could recover. I fished the guy's wallet out of his pocket, daring him to holler.
"Excuse me, sir?" I called to the man, but he just kept walking, oblivious to everything but whoever was on his cell phone. I grabb
ed the rugrat's wrist and dragged him behind me as I chased the guy down. In a few yards, I managed to touch his sleeve and he turned to me.
"Yes?"
"You dropped your wallet back there," I said, then smiled sweetly down at the brat. "Oliver here found it and wanted to make sure you got it back." The boy glared at me, but I pinched the inside of his scrawny arm where my fingers overlapped. "Didn't you, Oliver?"
"Yeah," he said through his teeth, giving the man a tight smile. "Good thing for you she came along. I tripped over my shoelaces and might not have caught up to you to give it back."
The man flipped it open and beamed when he saw that everything was still there. "Thank you, young man." He pulled out a twenty and handed it to Oliver. Here. Thank you for being honest enough to give it back; that's rare these days."
The heathen smiled at him and snatched the twenty before I could politely decline for him.
"It was my pleasure, sir. Thank you."
The guy went on his merry way and once he was out of sight, the brat kicked me in the shin in an attempt to escape. When I still held on, he tried to bite me.
"Knock it off!" I barked, barely dodging his teeth again. Fortunately, we lived in a spare-the-rod environment where it was still considered bad form to let your kids bite you or carry on like heathens in public, so nobody gave us a passing glance. "What's wrong with you? If you bite me, I'm biting you back, just so you know. Now where's my wallet? It's a pain to replace all that crap and I want it back."
He just glowered at me but kept his lips pinched shut.
"Okay, fine," I told him, dragging him back toward Brew. "This is how you wanna roll? I can do that. I happen to be dating the sheriff. I know you stole mine, and I just saw you steal that guy's too." I slipped my phone out and pulled Hunter's number with one hand, never letting go of the boy in the process.
"No, wait," he said as all the color drained from his face. "Don't call the law. I'll give you yours back. I have to go get it though."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because I'm an idiot. I was born at night, but not last night."
"Fine," he said, drawing his brows together. "You'll have to take me to where I'm staying to get it, though."
I shrugged. "I'm good with that. I have a few things to say to your parents anyway."
He mumbled something under his breath, but by that time, we were in front of the shop.
My purse was still inside so I pulled him in with me. Raeann raised a brow when we came in.
"You know, sugar, havin' kids ain't like fishin'. You don't just go out and catch one."
"Very funny," I said. "Rae, meet the little punk who filched my wallet." I held his wrist out to her. "Hang onto the little heathen and don't let him escape. I gotta get my purse and keys. Oh, and he bites."
"Only once, he will," she said. She took his wrist and I went behind the counter and reached around to pull my purse off her desk.
"What's your name?" she asked.
Silence.
"Call him Oliver," I said. "That's the name I picked for him."
"Here's the thing," she said. "See that whole case of pastries over there? And the soda machine? Tell me your name and you can eat and drink as much as you please. Or, you can try to out-stubborn me, but I got a whole lot more practice than you. We'll be here 'til the cows come home."
Roy, a retired farmer who spent most every afternoon at Brew playing chess with one of the other old-timers, agreed. "You may as well tell her, son. She ain't lyin' about out-stubborning you. I've known her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. A mule ain't got nothin' on her."
Raeann grinned—it was a source of pride for her—then turned her gaze back down to the little hellcat, her expression expectant.
He scowled at her, but she just stared him down. "Justin," he finally said.
"Justin. Justin what?"
"Poling. Justin Poling."
"And why, Justin Poling, do you reckon it's okay to go out and steal from other people? You look all of what, ten?"
"I'm fifteen, I'll have you know," he said with all the outrage of a rookie liar.
I shook my head. "Oh, for crying out loud. If you're fifteen then I'm a monkey's uncle. Aunt. Whatever. There's no way you're fifteen."
"I'll let it pass for now," Rae said, giving him a push toward a table. "Go sit down. What kinda pastry and Coke do you want?"
He eyed the front door, calculating his odds. Rae waggled a finger at him and pointed to the case. "I'd hate for your shoelaces to get tangled again. Pick something or I’ll choose for you."
Finally, he picked a blueberry-cream-cheese danish and a Dr. Pepper and settled at a table. I heard his stomach rumble all the way across the room. Now that I wasn't so focused on his sticky fingers, I took in the rest of him.
He was short—not even five feet tall yet—and weighed maybe eighty pounds soaking wet. His clothes were faded and his jeans were frayed at the bottom. The only reason they stayed up was because he was wearing a belt that almost wrapped around his waist twice.
His shirt was way too big too. I started doing to math in my head. Ratty clothes that were too big for him, stealing, empty belly, past due for a haircut. Along with meals, he was missing at least a mama and maybe even a dad. I was curious to see where he was staying.
While he was eating, I made myself a cup of coffee. "Just out of curiosity, how many wallets do you have at your house?"
He narrowed his eyes at me. "Only a few. I don't steal 'cept to eat."
"Have you ever bothered just asking somebody for somethin' to eat," Rae snapped. She had zero tolerance for a thief.
"Sure, like that would work," he scoffed, then took a huge bite of danish.
Rae looked pointedly at the pastry in his hand.
"Fine, but I don't need charity." He tossed the danish down on his plate in a show of rebellion, but picked it back up after a few seconds. Apparently, the danish was worth more than his dignity at that point.
"But stealing from others is perfectly acceptable in your book?"
He huffed like only a kid on his way to being a teenager could. "Eating is perfectly acceptable in my book. When you beg, you're beholden to somebody." He swizzled his straw around in his soda and concentrated awful hard on the bubbles. "I'd rather have a job, but I ain't old enough," he muttered.
"And why is it that a ten-year-old is out scavenging for meals anyway?" she asked, assessing him as I had.
He concentrated on the food and ignored her.
I didn't want to feel sorry for this kid, but I almost couldn't help it.
"Finish eating and I'll take you to your place so you can get my wallet."
Chapter Twenty Seven
Raeann locked the shop, then jingled the keys nervously. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"Nah," I told her. "We won't be but a few. I'll meet you at the house in a half-hour."
"Okay," she said, not looking convinced.
"C'mon, Rae. I'm just taking him to his place so I can get my wallet. Stop being a worry-wart."
She shook her head but got in her car. If you're not home in forty-five, I'm sending the cavalry."
"Please do," I said as we climbed into my truck. He directed me to a shabby house on the outskirts of town, almost across the tracks on the East Side. Keyhole fits pretty much every stereotype of a small town that you can imagine, right down to having a "wrong side of the tracks."
In our case, it's literal. A set of tracks separates the northeast corner of the town from the rest of Keyhole Lake. The area is seedy and reeks of desperation and wasted lives.
When I pulled to the crumbling curb, the faded curtain covering a picture window swayed. Rather than getting right out, Justin took a few deep breaths, then looked at me with eyes older than his years.
"Wait here,” he said. “Ain't no need for you to go in."
I started to object, but for the first time since I'd met him, he looked beaten. "Just please, wait here, okay? Hopefully I won't be long."
I hesitated for a minute, loathe to interfere in family business. Just as I was about to shove the door open and go butt my nose in, Max popped in, frowning.
"Have you gone and talked to—” He stopped when he heard the loud voice and language coming from the house. “You just gonna sit there like a lump on a log and let her do that?"
"No," I snapped. "If you must know, I was just going in. I don't know what the story is, but it's not right."
I pushed out of the truck and headed up the walk, magic pooling in my fingers. I glanced at the houses on either side; curtains were pulled back just enough to form peepholes, but I didn't see any shotguns pointed my way. Cheri Lynn chose that minute to pop in, then whistled.
"Sugar, you sure do know how to pick your battles. This ain't no place to let your guard down even if you have magic. I'm goin' in with you to watch your back."
"Let's do it, then." When I pounded on the door, the yelling ceased and I heard the chain slide on the door.
A scrawny woman with hawkish features opened the door, sneering as she looked me over. "You're on the wrong side of town, ain't ya princess?"
I drew in a deep breath and bit back a retort. "Are you Justin's mom?"
She snorted. "Aww hell no. I'm just fostering him ’cause he's too old for any family to want him for permanent. Check's good though."
"Is that so?" I asked. Had she known me, she would have recognized the tone and knew that she was about to grab the wrong end of a rattlesnake.
"Yeah, that's so," she said, putting her hands on her bony hips and mocking me.
I stepped right into her bubble, forcing her to take several steps backwards into the house. I stared her dead in the eye, serious as a heart attack. "You need to think through the next few seconds real careful-like," I told her, "because your decisions will affect how fully you live the rest of your life. Personally, I'd love for you to bow up at me. Please."