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

by Christine Wenger

  “Oh, Trixie, you’re still here?” ACB asked.

  “Yeah, I was just looking at the stars. Bright, aren’t they?”

  “They’re so close, I could just reach out and touch them,” Aileen said. Then she yawned. “I’d better get my beauty rest now. Good night, Trixie. Good night, Antoinette Chloe.”

  “G’night,” I said.

  ACB hugged her. “Good night, sweetie.”

  I held ACB back from walking inside. “Antoinette Chloe, Aileen may not be the sweet girl you think she is.”

  “I know. She’s lied a couple of times on her questionnaire. I don’t think she was a classical dancer. She really has no rhythm. And her age? If she’s twenty-eight, then so am I! That’s why I wanted to get close to her—maybe there’re more lies.”

  If I had false teeth, they would have fallen out of my mouth. ACB and I were on the same track. “How? What?”

  ACB shrugged and shook her head. “We can’t have a fibber as our first Miss Salmon, and we can’t let her dishonestly win the prize money. But we don’t want to cast a shadow over the whole pageant by disqualifying her, so I think the judges have to make sure that Aileen Shubert doesn’t win first, second, or third place.”

  While my friend was worried about Aileen disgracing the pageant, I was wondering if that’s all Aileen Shubert was really up to.

  * * *

  I heard a scream. One of the ear-piercing screams that meant someone’s life was in danger.

  Ty appeared from somewhere. “Upstairs! Stay here, Trixie!”

  I followed him anyway. All the girls were milling in the hall, looking scared, pointing to ACB’s room.

  Ty drew his gun and kicked the door. The door didn’t move. He kicked it again. Again, the sturdy oak door didn’t budge.

  I reached around him and twisted the handle. The door opened like I knew it would.

  “None of the doors lock. I don’t know why,” I babbled.

  “Get back!” he ordered me.

  I followed him. ACB was standing in the middle of a mess, even more of a mess than usual. Her muumuus were slashed, the drawers in her plastic carts were out of the frame, and the contents were thrown on the floor.

  Jewelry was everywhere. Her fascinators were slashed; so were her tote bags and purses. Even her flip-flops were pulled apart.

  “Who hates me enough to do this?” she asked. “And where are my pageant notes?”

  Ty shut the door and whispered, “It had to be an inside job. I’ve been watching this place. Trixie, check your room.”

  Mine was a mess, too. Stuff everywhere, swept off the top of the dressers, drawers tossed on the floor. Even the bedding was pulled off the bed.

  With my heart in my throat, I looked at Aunt Stella’s gown, praying that it wasn’t in tatters. It was still hanging on the back of the door to the bathroom, where I’d left it. Thank goodness nothing had happened to it. Nothing in the bathroom was disturbed.

  There goes my power nap. I had to clean up this mess and help ACB.

  Then I noticed that my spiral notebook was missing. It contained my Miss Salmon notes, but there was nothing exciting in it. Just committee plans. There was nothing about any of the contestants in it.

  I went back to ACB’s room. Ty was taking photos of her room. He stopped, waiting for my report.

  “My room was just tossed. It’s a mess, but nothing was cut. Nothing important is missing that I can tell, except my Miss Salmon notebook. But there was nothing exciting in it.”

  “My folder had the timetable for the ceremony. I need it for the dress rehearsal and the pageant. Oh, what am I going to do?” ACB said.

  Ty had his hands on his hips. I knew from my past experiences with him that he was beyond angry.

  “I want to know who did this and how they got past me.”

  “It could have happened earlier, Ty. On Vern McCoy’s watch. Who knows? My house is always open.”

  “But your rooms were specifically targeted,” he said. “I asked when everyone was in the hall, and none of their things were bothered.”

  “But our rooms are the first ones that someone would come upon when they came upstairs.” I paused, letting that sink in. “They seem to have unleashed their fury on Antoinette Chloe’s room. Mine seems more like it was an afterthought, unless they were interrupted and didn’t get to the slashing.”

  ACB plopped down on a Queen Anne chair by the window. “Who hates me enough to do this? I don’t have any enemies. I’m kind to everyone.”

  She really was kind to everyone. I went over to her and gave her a big hug and let her cry for a while.

  “Whoever did this wanted the pageant stuff,” I said. “Why else would they do it?”

  Ty pulled out his notebook and stubby pencil. “You ladies figure that out. I’m going to talk to the contestants and see if they saw or heard anything.”

  “Thank goodness my dress muumuus are still at the jail.”

  “That’s good news,” I said. Always a silver lining with ACB.

  Ty noticed a piece of paper on the floor. I could see the black print bleeding though. He read it and swore under his breath.

  “What is it?” ACB asked.

  Ty hesitated.

  ACB had a white-knuckle grip on the arms of the chair. “I want to know.”

  Ty handed her the paper, and I read over her shoulder:

  YOU ARE NEXT!

  * * *

  I double-checked my measurements for peanut butter cookies, because I couldn’t get my brain to focus. All I could think of was how ACB’s room had been trashed and her muumuus slashed.

  ACB had been with Aileen most of the evening. Toxic and Dog had been there. The only one missing from the scenario was the less-than-delightful Chad Dodson.

  I spooned out the peanut butter from an industrial-size jar and got my big mixer turning. Slow at first, so the flour didn’t slop all over the floor, then faster.

  I prepared my pans, cutting parchment paper to size. I swear by parchment paper and use it for cookies all the time.

  With a soup spoon, I scooped out the mixture, rolled it into a ball, and put it on the parchment, spacing the balls evenly. Dipping the bottom of a glass in sugar, I squished each ball. Then I took a fork and made a crisscross pattern on the top, for no reason other than that my mother used to do it and they look cute that way.

  I gathered what I needed for my chocolate chip cookies. But first I had to eat some chips for quality control.

  Just as I finished mixing the chocolate chip cookie batter and started taking the peanut butter cookies out of the oven, Chelsea came bouncing in.

  “The Roving Rubbers are here. It looks like all of them.”

  I checked my watch. It was two in the morning. Didn’t those motorcycling chefs ever sleep?

  “What’s up with them?”

  “They’re leaving at sunup. Something about eating and roving where the rubber meets the road,” Chelsea said.

  I wondered if Ty knew that two of his suspects were going to rove.

  “Well, bring on the orders. I’m ready.”

  “Trixie, here’s a good one. Toxic Waste said to tell you that he’d like to cook with you.”

  I thought about that for a bit. “I guess it’s okay.”

  Actually, it was more than okay. I’d be able to question him more.

  I almost fainted when Toxic walked into the kitchen through the swinging doors. He wore a white chef’s coat and white hat, black jeans, and black sneakers. He was freshly shaved and looked so unlike the Toxic Waste that I knew.

  “Can I call you by your real name in my kitchen, Chef?”

  “Billy. Last name is Gerard.”

  “Billy it is,” I said. “Before the orders come in, I need to get my chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and onto the cooling rack.”

&n
bsp; “I’m on it,” Billy said.

  “Then I’ll start the batter for snickerdoodle cookies.”

  Billy loaded the last pan of cookies, then yelled over to me. “I’ll chop up more lettuce for salads. I see that the special is spaghetti and meatballs. Got enough?”

  “How about boiling more spaghetti? I’ll throw a pan of meatballs into the oven to heat them up.” Luckily, I had a pan already cooked and sitting in the cooler.

  “How about sauce?”

  “In the cooler. A huge pot of it. Needs to be heated.”

  “I’ll get it,” Billy said.

  I was impressed. Billy was a self-starter.

  He got everything bubbling on the stove, and I got the snickerdoodle dough covered with plastic wrap and in the cooler. It needed to chill for four hours.

  By then, the Rubbers should be on the road. Which reminded me . . .

  “Billy, are you going to be leaving town with the rest of the Rubbers?”

  “I asked Deputy Brisco if I could go, and he said no. I still have to stick around,” he said. “I’m going stir-crazy, so I figured I’d help you out.”

  “I can put you to work. Graveyard shift.” I couldn’t believe that had just come out of my mouth, especially when I was just criticizing ACB for fraternizing with the questionable.

  But I did need a break. At least to get my house back in order and find a spa and pamper myself.

  “I’ll take you up on that,” he said.

  Billy and I worked side by side as the orders came in. Most everyone ordered the special with a side of today’s soup—chicken noodle—and a chef’s salad. Several ordered breakfast.

  Then the poker club came in, about twenty-two of them. They had just played a high-stakes game—a dollar—and the winner of the game got to have dinner on the treasury.

  Margie Grace was the winner. She wanted fried chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy, and peas.

  Billy and I did the Silver Bullet Shuffle, crossing back and forth in front of and behind each another. Billy sure could dance. I enjoyed my time with him, and we laughed and joked. I felt that we bonded.

  Finally, I blurted, “Billy, who do you think killed Nick?”

  He didn’t speak for several seconds. “I think Cowboy Ty arrested the right person: Nick’s nutso girlfriend. It’s a money thing. It always is.”

  “You think Antoinette Chloe did it? She doesn’t have it in her.”

  “Each one of us can kill if the conditions are right,” he said. “Maybe they had a fight and she saw her opportunity to off him and collect some money to boot.”

  “The insurance won’t pay if she’s convicted of killing him. Chad Dodson would get it,” I said.

  “No kidding?”

  Oops. Chocolate chip cookies loosen the lips.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” I plucked another order off the clip and started putting it together. Corned beef and cabbage on rye with Thousand Island dressing.

  “You know, I don’t care. I just want to get back to my restaurant,” Billy said, chopping lettuce with a knife like the pro he was.

  He sure was skilled with a knife.

  “Maybe you’re right. I remember you telling me that you could have killed Nick because of the things he did to you. I think that stealing your girlfriend was the worst. But, Billy, didn’t you think she wanted to go?” I sliced the corned beef on the big slicer.

  “He charmed the pants off Leslie and then left her broken and mortified. She came back to me for a while and I helped her pick up the pieces, though things were never the same between us. But I still love her.”

  “But you’re dating Aileen Shubert. Maybe things will work out all right this time.”

  I put the rye bread on a plate, heaped on the corned beef and the cabbage, and squirted the dressing on it all. I put long, fancy toothpicks in it and cut it in half.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “And Antoinette Chloe is not nutso.”

  He laughed as he spooned tomato sauce on a plate of spaghetti.

  “Billy, speaking of Antoinette Chloe, what were you doing at her arraignment? I saw you hanging out by the Laundromat, and then you came into the bar—I mean, courtroom.”

  “I was wondering if a friend would be there.”

  “Was she?”

  “What makes you think I was waiting for a female?”

  He had a twinkle in his eye. Yeah, I’d bet one of my cottages that he was waiting for a woman. But he wasn’t going to spill the details.

  Curious.

  Billy was such a skilled chef, and I was kind of . . . sort of . . . mostly liking him.

  But I couldn’t rule him out as a suspect. After all, he was really skilled with a knife.

  Chapter 13

  I finished my snickerdoodles, packed all the cookies in separate trays, and covered them with plastic wrap. I shook hands with Billy, welcomed Juanita, and zombie-walked to my magnificent brass bed.

  As I reached the Big House, I saw Ty sitting on the front porch, facing Tent Town. He must have been watching the exodus.

  There was not much left except overflowing trash cans, litter that didn’t make the cans, and lots and lots of mud.

  Oh, and one tent: Billy’s.

  The potty and shower vendor was loading the blue plastic facilities on a truck. One potty and one shower remained behind: Billy’s private facilities.

  I took a seat next to Ty. “What’s going on with the contestants?”

  He smacked his lips. “Two committee members brought breakfast over. I smell bacon and coffee, and I’m drooling.”

  “I’ll bring you something.”

  I went into the Big House and found everyone gathered around the oak table. The food was set up on my counter, like a buffet. Picking up a plate, I fixed breakfast for Ty, and poured him a cup of coffee. Black.

  “Anything new on the room mess?” Aileen said. “I see that Ty’s watching the house.”

  “Yeah, he is. This plate of food and the coffee are for him. Did any of you ladies hear anything yesterday?”

  “Nothing,” said Jane. “But I did tell Ty that I smelled something.”

  “Like what?” I perked up.

  “Cologne. Strong stuff,” she said. “Like the stuff Antoinette Chloe wears.”

  ACB heard her name and turned. “I make my own perfume from essential oils, and I wouldn’t destroy my own things, Jane, dear.”

  “Oh! I didn’t mean that you did. I meant that I smelled perfume like yours. It’s unique—and overpowering.”

  “Maybe a bottle was spilled by the criminal,” I suggested, noting that ACB’s feelings were hurt. “But I was in the room right after, and didn’t notice a strong smell of perfume.”

  I turned to the committee members, Pam Grassley and Jean Harrington, who were on duty today.

  “When are you leaving for the auditorium? I want to go to the reception and meet the rest of the contestants,” I said.

  “We’re rolling out in exactly a half hour,” Pam said. “It’s finally pageant dress-rehearsal time!”

  The screams that came from the contestants—and ACB—had to be disturbing the salmon on their swim upstream. I could envision them all making a U-turn and doing the breaststroke back to wherever it was that they came from.

  Ty ran into the room, ready for action. At the sight of his drawn gun, the contestants launched into more screams. He holstered it as the ladies ran upstairs.

  “What the devil?” Ty looked baffled. He probably expected a hale and hearty criminal, not a bunch of screaming Miss Salmon hopefuls.

  “They’re just excited. It’s dress-rehearsal day,” I said, putting his plate and coffee on the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Ty.”

  He moved his plate and coffee where he could see the stairs and the side of the B
ig House through the bay window and sat down.

  Pam and Jean smiled at Ty, leaned closer to him, and hurried to pass him the cream and sugar, in spite of the fact that he’d told them four times that he liked his coffee black. He seemed amused as they went back and forth to the buffet to refill his plate and microwave it back to hotness.

  In the meantime, I was putting everything away. If we were rolling in a half hour, I’d better get the Big House cleaned up.

  And thank goodness they’d all be leaving with their parents or whomever after the pageant tomorrow night.

  I’d have my house back, and peace and quiet would reign once again.

  Blondie whined loudly. It was her “I really have to go” whine. I must have missed the pre-whine before with all of the commotion.

  I let her out the front door, and sat down on the stoop to call Clyde and get him working on the cleanup of Tent Town. Right now, with only Billy’s tent left, it looked like Little Tent on the Prairie.

  Surprisingly, Chad and Billy were talking together. I don’t know why that surprised me again. I’d seen them talking before.

  Maybe they were chatting about the break-in. Maybe they were the ones who broke in. I could believe anything about Chad Dodson, but since I had gotten to know Billy, I liked him. But I couldn’t rule him out as Nick’s killer yet.

  I got ahold of Clyde, and he was already on the scene with his four-wheeler, dragging the utility wagon behind. He was picking up all the trash cans and probably taking them back to the fishing stations after he dumped everything into the Dumpster.

  Then my mind wandered. I wondered if I could squeeze any more information out of Sal. He’d just hate the fact that ACB was arrested.

  I needed a trip with Ty to Auburn Correctional Facility to see Sal again. Or maybe I could just call him.

  I hurried back inside with Blondie. Ty was still eating, but everyone was out of the kitchen.

  “Ty, does Sal know that ACB was arrested for killing Nick?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “But her arrest is important to him. If he still loves her like I think he does, he’ll be crazy with worry. Do you think he’d be persuaded to help with ACB’s future on his mind? Maybe he was holding something back.”