Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death: A Comfort Food Mystery

by Christine Wenger

  As far as I knew, only the clerk at the post office, Mrs. Carol Dodd, who processed ACB’s numerous money orders, knew how bighearted Antoinette Chloe was.

  “Trixie? You’re a million miles away.”

  “Oh . . . uh . . . just thinking, I guess. Antoinette Chloe, do you know that Chad Dodson is a beneficiary of Nick’s two-million-dollar life insurance policy, after you?”

  “Ty shared that information with me.”

  “What are your thoughts on that little tidbit?”

  She shrugged. “If I were out of the way, Chad would get the two million, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yep, he would. He’d also get it if you’re found guilty of killing Nick.”

  “Trixie, I’m not worried. I don’t think that Chad is the type who’d kill me. And I didn’t kill Nick, so I won’t be found guilty.”

  “Antoinette Chloe, you’re too trusting. Chad is broke, and I think he’s pretty desperate. Why else would he come to Nick’s wake in little Sandy Harbor? He wanted to talk to you and ask for the money that Nick allegedly owed him.”

  “If Nick owed him a million dollars and he can prove that, then I should pay the debt. I’ll have Janice look into his claim.”

  “Great idea, Antoinette Chloe, but I still think that you should be careful of Chad.”

  “I will. Anyway, Ty said that the money has been tied up by the insurance company, depending on the outcome of my case.”

  “Oh! Your trial could go on for a year or so. Chad seems to want the money now.”

  She waved me away. “Trixie, it doesn’t matter. I just have to get out in time for the Miss Salmon pageant. I’ll ask Janice to look at my assets, and then I’ll put it all on the line for my bail.”

  I didn’t know how to tell her that getting out of jail might kill her. But I knew that not being able to emcee the pageant would definitely kill her.

  What was a friend to do?

  Chapter 9

  I pulled into my usual parking space by the Big House. Tent Town was looking a little sloppy, and I would be glad when they were all gone.

  I looked around for Toxic Waste, and was disappointed that I didn’t see him. The pageant girls were over at the Silver Bullet for dinner, which gave me some quiet time, so I could catch some sleep before my graveyard shift.

  Blondie greeted me like a long-lost friend and started whining, which I knew meant that she had to go outside.

  I let her out the kitchen door, and she hurried down the stairs and headed for her favorite spot: by my red, white, and blue garden of petunias. The petunias were gasping their last, and I thought that I really should euthanize them and sweeten my compost pile.

  Suddenly Blondie headed for a copse of trees and started barking.

  “Go away!” I heard someone say. The voice was familiar. “Go. Get away.”

  More barking. A couple of unladylike swearwords came from the trees, followed by a couple of phrases of ungentlemanly swearing. Then the two individuals hurried from their hiding place and ran farther away from the house.

  Toxic Waste and Aileen Shubert?

  No way!

  Blondie followed them, barking like crazy. She thought they were playing with her. I let Blondie torment them for a while; then I whistled, and she came back to me.

  But what the heck was Aileen Shubert doing with Toxic Waste, other than the obvious? And where were the committee chaperones?

  Probably eating at the Silver Bullet.

  Didn’t any of them know that Aileen was missing and playing kissy-face with the leader of the Rubbers?

  Even though none of the ladies staying with me were underage, I still felt that they should be chaperoned. The grounds were crawling with Rubbers, fishermen, and various unknown customers of the Silver Bullet.

  A dozen beauty queens might be tempting.

  I let Blondie inside, then headed for the place I had seen the two lovebirds.

  I found them rolling around on the ground by the border between my land and Antoinette Chloe’s drive-in land.

  “Excuse me, please.” Nothing like coitus interruptus. “Excuse me!”

  Aileen recovered first and pushed Toxic off her. He looked at me and had the decency to turn red.

  “You know the rules. Please go back into the house,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Trixie. Are you going to boot me out of the contest?” Aileen asked. “Please don’t.”

  “We’ll talk. Make some tea, and I’ll be right there. I want to talk to Mr. Waste.”

  I waited until Aileen was well on her way to the Big House; then I turned to the leader of the pack. “Toxic, have you met Miss Shubert before?”

  He looked at me as if I had snakes coming out of my ears.

  “Uh . . . no.”

  “Did you just meet here?” I asked, feeling like a grammar-school principal.

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  He sure looked guilty. It crossed my mind that he was lying like a rug. “You two surely got acquainted fast.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “We have rules for the pageant contestants while they are under my roof.”

  “I don’t know of any rules.” He looked down at the grass. “Yeah, okay. I won’t bother Aileen anymore.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I go now?”

  I felt like Sister Mary Mary of St. Margaret’s school, who had wielded a pointer like a medieval sword and liked to rap knuckles.

  “No, Toxic. I have something else I want to talk to you about.”

  “What now?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Nick’s death. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?”

  “I thought you were a chef, not a cop.” He put his hands on his hips, trying to intimidate me. But he’d have to do better than that.

  “I’m just a friend of Antoinette Chloe Brown, who’s in jail for allegedly killing him.”

  “Maybe she did it.”

  “No way.”

  “Says you.” He spit in the grass. “Look, all I know is that Nick ran off with my girlfriend and then left her at the altar. What kind of a guy does that?”

  “It’s awful, I agree, but maybe your girlfriend wanted to go. Maybe Nick didn’t steal her. Maybe she wanted to break it off with you.”

  “Any way you put it, Nick still stole her.”

  I wasn’t getting anywhere with this topic.

  “What’s her name?” I asked. Then I remembered what Sal had said. “Leslie . . .”

  “Yes. Leslie McDermott.”

  “I wonder why Nick left Leslie,” I mumbled to myself.

  “He was a coward. He should have cut her loose before it got that far. Maybe she would have come back to me.”

  “I hear you, but why did he leave her?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. You have to know how to handle a woman like Leslie, and Nick didn’t.”

  “You had to be pretty ticked off,” I pushed.

  “I was.”

  “I mean, you had to be really, really ticked off.”

  “What are you getting at, Miz Matkowski?” If looks could kill, I’d be pushing up crabgrass.

  “Aww, Toxic, you know what I’m going for. Did you hate Nick Brownelli enough to kill him?”

  “At one time I could have, but I’ve mellowed. In fact, Leslie and I have been talking. We might get together again.”

  “That’s really nice, Toxic. Good for you.”

  “Anything else you wanna know?”

  “No. Just stay away from Aileen Shubert, okay? You both can do what you want when the pageant is over.”

  He closed his eyes and gave a slight nod.

  Then something hit me. “Toxic, why would you want to be with Aileen when you just said that you might get back together with Lesli
e?”

  “Uh, well, you know how the song goes: ‘Love the one you’re with.’”

  “You know how the other song goes: ‘Your cheating heart will tell on you.’”

  He clamped his teeth together, but spoke very clearly through them. “I gotta go. I have to talk to the cop.”

  * * *

  Walking back to the Big House, I thought about what I’d say to Aileen Shubert. I got a lot of information from Toxic, but he’d be wary of ever talking to me again. I already knew most of what he’d told me, so his information wasn’t too helpful.

  I probably should tell the Miss Salmon Committee that Aileen wasn’t salmon material in that she was already swimming upstream.

  Trixie Matkowski, you are such a prude!

  Maybe I should just keep this incident to myself. Aileen deserved a second chance.

  She had tea ready and she was sitting at my kitchen table, hands folded and red-eyed.

  “Trixie, I know what you are going to say,” she said, softly. “You’re going to tell me that my behavior was not appropriate.”

  “Yes.” I poured water into my cup. “But you weren’t the only one ordering off the menu. Toxic was doing the tango with you. That man is a fast worker.”

  “He can sweep a girl off her feet!” She smiled, remembering, then snapped back to reality. “And you’re going to tell me that I’m not fit to be Miss Salmon. And that fooling around with a Rubber is not a good idea.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you’re wondering if I knew Toxic Waste before.”

  “Sure.”

  “No. I did not. And that makes my actions even more heinous.”

  I shrugged.

  “Please don’t ban me from the pageant,” she pleaded. “I couldn’t bear it. I want to win, Trixie.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Are you going to ban me?”

  I shrugged again.

  “Oh, please. I’m so sorry. I totally apologize. Can I stay in? Please, please, please?”

  “Okay. As long as you promise not to break any more rules.”

  She jumped up and hugged me around the neck. “Oh, thank you. Thank you! You can count on me.” Then she bounced upstairs.

  Whew! I was glad that we had that talk.

  * * *

  I was back in the Silver Bullet kitchen at midnight. I wished Cindy had called me to come in earlier, because she was swamped.

  Springing into action, I took the next order in line. All six of them wanted the daily special: meat loaf with mashed potatoes and gravy; peas and carrots with a side chef’s salad; and another side of macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, or homemade applesauce—made by yours truly.

  Of course, some people wanted their gravy on the side, some wanted all of the sides, and then there were the various dressings for the salads. And then one person didn’t want peas and carrots at all—he or she wanted corn instead.

  Okay, I could do that.

  Cindy and I did the Silver Bullet Shuffle until all the orders were complete.

  “I wonder why we had such a rush tonight,” I said. “Not that I’m complaining, but it seems like something’s going on, or that something just stopped, so they all came here.”

  Cindy pulled some onions from the counter and started peeling them. “The new Star Wars movie is playing at the Bijou. It must have just let out.”

  “And then there’s the ten Miss Salmon contestants and two of their handlers, Connie and Irene.”

  She looked out the pass-through window. “There were four handlers before. May and June must have just left.”

  Four committee ladies, and no one noticed that Aileen Shubert was missing? Sheesh.

  “Why don’t you head out, Cindy? It’s been a long day for you. Remember to put on your time card that I owe you time and a half for staying and helping.”

  “You don’t have to. You gave my family all that food.”

  “Don’t argue with your employer,” I said. “Now shoo! By the way, Cindy, how did your date go?”

  “Really nice, Trixie. He’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to meet him.” Cindy deserved a great guy.

  Speaking of good guys, I spotted Ty Brisco taking a seat at the counter. He wore his good-guy white cowboy hat.

  He saw me peeking at him and waved. I waved back and wondered how ACB was doing.

  I went into the dining area and poured myself a cup of coffee. “How’s our pal doing, Ty?”

  “She’s ordering more things to decorate her cell with. The last I knew, she was ordering some kind of room divider to put around the toilet. It is in the open. And she doesn’t like the standard-issue metal john. She’s ordered toilet-seat covers in purple and orange. Oh, and even a purple shag rug.”

  “Seems like she’s planning on staying.”

  “I don’t think so. She said that she’s decorating for the next person to come in. She said that there’s no reason why the Sandy Harbor Jail shouldn’t be more homey.”

  “That’s our Antoinette Chloe. How did her visit with her lawyer go?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Did you tell her about keeping ACB in protective custody?”

  “Yes. She said that she can’t go for that, and that every person has the right to bail. I think I’ll talk to the judge myself.”

  I leaned over the coffee counter and whispered to him. “Did Nick have a will?”

  “He did. We found it in his papers.”

  “And?”

  Ty smiled. “Along with his house, he left his car, his bike, and some property on Blue Mountain Lake in the Adirondacks to ACB. Oh, and property in the Catskills, too, with a nice big lake on it. The state’s looking at the property for a casino. Chad is next to benefit, and then Sal is after Chad. Just like his insurance policy.”

  “Who would have thought?” I said. I couldn’t believe that Nick had been that rich. “Is it all paid for?”

  “You bet. But he was land rich, not money rich. And he bought it ages ago for a song, when they were giving it away. He was smart to hang on to it.”

  “Wow.”

  “Exactly. Vern McCoy estimates that his property holdings alone are worth about two to eight million big ones, depending on who’s buying it and what they want to do with it.”

  “Wow. ACB is going to be rich.”

  “Just what I thought. You know, Trixie, I talked to Chad Dodson, and in spite of his debutant attitude and remarks, I think he’s running scared. He knows that he’s a prime suspect.”

  “Did you talk to Toxic Waste?”

  “He’s a chef at a German restaurant, his own restaurant, and he pretends to be a rough-and-tough biker. But he’s a real pussycat. And he cried like a baby in my office. He was afraid that he was going to be arrested for murder, and he said that after talking to you earlier, he was scared stiff.”

  “We didn’t talk about anything so horrible that he had to cry.”

  “What did you talk about?” Ty asked.

  “A little about Nick. I asked him if he was mad enough to kill Nick over his girlfriend running off with him. He said that he once was, but that it’s water under the bridge now, and that he and Leslie—that’s her name—were getting back together. But that was only after I scolded him for being in the woods with Aileen Shubert.”

  “What were they doing there?”

  “Well, they weren’t picking strawberries. What do you think they were doing?”

  “Lust in bloom, huh?” He grinned.

  “Must be something in the air. Perhaps they’re copying the salmon.”

  On and on we went, bantering back and forth. I could do this all day, but Nancy put a couple of orders in front of me.

  “See you later, Ty. I have to get to work.”

  “Wait a second, Trixie. I want to remin
d you to leave this investigation to me. I’ll do the interviewing.”

  “Then I won’t tell you about my conversation with Chad Dodson.”

  “Oh, I heard all about it. Chad wanted to file a restraining order against you with the district attorney, but I talked him out of it. I told him that you can’t help yourself. It’s your personality.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

  “He’s going to do it if you come near him again.”

  “Then he’d better move his behemoth of a motor home and his red Thunderbird off my property.”

  “I need him around here,” Ty said, “where I can keep an eye on him.”

  Aww . . . damn. But if he thought that a piece of legal paper was going to stop me from talking to him, he was wronger than wrong.

  “But I have a right to be on my own property,” I mumbled to myself as I made two tanned three-story, pig-and-plants. That’s Dinerese for a triple-decker bacon, lettuce, and tomato on toast.

  When those were done, I made three rib-eyes, still mooing, with my homemade poker chips—er, potato chips. Three tuna subs with a whole garden—lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. Then three Silver Bullet daily breakfast specials: two eggs, two pancakes, two pieces of bacon, and two sausages, with either two pieces of toast or two biscuits. I put bread on the Ferris wheel to toast, tossed several bacon strips in the deep fryer, and started fussing with the eggs—up, over light, over hard. Oh, and two weepy eyeballs—aka eggs Benedict, which were my all-time favorite.

  Through the pass-through window, I saw Nancy taking Ty’s order. I could almost predict what he’d order at this time of the night: a slice of cherry pie and a slice of chocolate pie. He’d wash them down with another cup of coffee, which Nancy was pouring right now. Then he’d walk across the lawn to the bait shop next door and climb the stairs to his apartment.

  On nice evenings, he’d sit out on the deck for a while. On rainy, cold, or snowy nights, he’d watch TV for about an hour. Then the lights would go out.

  Not that I’d noticed.

  There was a lull, so I decided to clean the kitchen a bit. I emptied the Ferris wheel of crumbs, straightened up the fridge by the stove, wiped down the stove with grease cutter, and took the trash out to the Dumpster.