Spaghetti, Meatballs, & Murder

by Beth Byers

  Perhaps my regret was enough to soften Simon because his attitude changed. He reached towards me, just a little bit, before pulling his hand back.

  Then he shifted, stood taller, and asked, “Did you ever talk to Kyle again after the accident?”

  Oh, I thought, oh my, that hurt. He had felt like a friend again, for a second. He’d felt like maybe something more for a moment. Just the swiftest, sweetest of moments. I knew he probably was a friend. I knew he was doing his job. That none of this was his fault, but it didn’t feel that way. Especially when you added in that something more…then…when I felt that, questions like these…they felt like a personal attack. A lack of faith. A…rejection.

  In that moment, I realized—there was only one way to take back my second chance, my friendships, what I wanted for my life in Silver Falls. It was to find out who killed Kyle and to own my second chance.

  “No,” I said, even more determined to protect my people, myself—my heart. I took a deep breath, reminded myself he was a police officer and tried to hide how I felt about being a suspect. “No, I didn’t see Kyle before the accident or after. I didn’t even know his name. I never looked for him or asked about him.”

  “Rose…” There was just enough emotion in Simon’s voice that made me think he might feel bad about my status as suspect. “I have to ask.”

  “Ok,” I said, but I didn’t feel ok about it. Of course, I didn’t.

  “Rose, I’ll find the killer,” Simon said. “It’s my job.”

  It didn’t escape me that the killer could be anyone. Including me. I was certain it hadn’t escaped him either. Yes, I thought, find the killer yourself.

  Chapter 9

  Zee’s place was at the end of a country dirt road towards the farmland rather than the ocean. It was a tiny little cottage covered in roses and there were actual rabbits in the garden with a white picket fence around the yard. It had taken me four times as long as it should have to get there because I’d taken several wrong turns, despite GPS, and been eyed by more than one judgmental, long-lashed, dairy cow.

  In Zee’s cottage, I could see three cats in the front window and another in the upper window. Every single thing about the mean, sharp-tongued, sarcastic grandma’s house was sweet and adorable. It was the exact opposite, in fact, of Zee.

  “I’m not working today,” Zee said. She was sitting on an actual porch swing drinking something steamy out of a cat cup where the tail was the handle. Zee was wearing a cute little plaid dress where her knobby knees showed, but her legs were strong, and her orthotic shoes somehow brought her outfit together rather than standing out. The matching compression socks somehow crossed it over into chic, quirky grandma.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said. “You are the cutest gramma I ever saw. Ever. Look at you!”

  She scowled, her eyes narrowing, her wrinkles accentuating her distaste. I couldn’t help but grin.

  “I’ll quit right now and where will you be?”

  “So screwed,” I admitted placatingly. “The town loves you, the staff loves you, I love you. You know that restaurant and running it better than the rest of us put together. And far, far, far, better than I do.”

  She coughed, sniffed, and then said, “Well all right then.”

  I walked through the gate and up to the house, hoping she’d understand what I was thinking and get behind my plan. And help me. I didn’t think I could do this without her. No one would talk to me. I was the newb. But Zee…she was like everyone’s mean old aunt that they still loved for no apparent reason.

  “I need your help,” I said precisely knowing there was no way to get it outside of abject humility.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Not with the diner,” I considered and then said, “Well not just with the diner. Also with finding the killer of Kyle Johannson,” I said.

  “He’s dead?” She didn’t wait for an answer but took another sip from her cup and looked me over. “That boy overdosed.”

  I shook my head.

  You could see her consider, and her scowl deepened, but what she said was, “Why do you care what happened to him? He was a stupid boy who did nothing but cause destruction and pain. Those who care about him are better off now.”

  “He was poisoned,” I said. I leaned against the balustrade of her patio, across from her and said, “We’re suspects, Zee. We handled the food. It happened at our restaurant.”

  “Ours?”

  “Ours,” I said. “You know 2nd Chance is as much yours as mine. You’ve worked there forever. You care about 2nd Chance—or Jenny’s—whatever you want to call it…you care about it and you’re a part of it—of course. Of course, you are.”

  “Maybe I need a different life,” Zee said, suddenly sounding tired. “Suspects? Murder? I don’t want any part of that. That boy died? Jane didn’t save him?”

  I sighed and then said, “I…Zee…oh goodness, Zee…they treated him for a drug overdose. They didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. I don’t think he was very healthy.”

  “And they think we did it?”

  “He died over spaghetti and meatballs. Our spaghetti and meatballs.”

  Zee laughed a harsh, nasty laugh and then said, “Spaghetti, meatballs, and murder…I delivered the food you know. They both asked for meatballs. Morgan was all excited about something. They were whispering together.”

  I hadn’t known. I didn’t doubt that it was true, but it seemed to make it all the more unlikely murder. Could it have been accident? But, of course not, you didn’t accidentally slip someone your insulin. And none of us were diabetic…at least I didn’t think so.

  “Are you diabetic?”

  “I’m healthy as a hundred horses,” Zee snorted. She took another drink of her cup and then cleared her throat. “I’ll be having coffee and scrambled eggs for breakfast when I hit 100.”

  “I wonder what the whispering was all about…” I laid my head against the post on the balustrade and had to admit I was at a loss. “What was their secret? What could they have been excited about?”

  Zee started to answer and then her shoulders dropped a bit. “What I want to say seems wrong now…given how that stupid boy is dead.”

  I had to laugh even though I wasn’t that amused. It was tragic. “Simon thinks I did it.”

  She snorted evilly before she answered, “No he doesn’t.”

  “But he’s asked me about it twice. You didn’t even know Kyle was dead and I’ve been interviewed two times.”

  Zee’s expression was sour and mean—like usual. Her expression seemed to matter more right then given the way she was eyeing me. “He cares about clearing your name, stupid girl. He likes you more than he like the other women on his long string of fawners.”

  “Other women? Long string? He does not like me more than his…long string of…women. Hah.” I didn’t sound amused, and I added, “Questioning me is no way to show it.”

  “Of course it is, stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. You’re the new girl in town. Clearing you matters most. No one knows you. Only a few people know you or like you.”

  I frowned, hating the line of reasoning. I could see what she was saying—I wasn’t stupid as much as she liked to call me that. I could see how the town would prefer me as the murderer. I had less reason than anyone else to kill Kyle. The only connection between me and the kid was that accident, but that episode was something for people to cling to as far as my guilt went. After all, no one cared all that much about me. I wasn’t someone’s school teacher or best friend or cousin’s daughter. It would be easier for all of them if I were the killer. Then everything could just go back to how it had been before I bought Jenny’s. Before I’d created my second chance. Before I’d found what felt like a new home.

  I shook my head and answered, “It doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel like caring at all.”

  “Of course, it doesn’t. You think he won’t come on over here and question me? Of course, Simon will. He’ll ask me his questions, an
d I won’t appreciate it one little bit. But he’ll ask me. No one will believe I’m the killer though. They know me. I’d have been far more likely to take that boy by his ear, walk him to the bar at the diner, and fill his foul mouth with hot sauce.”

  “So you want to team up and figure this out with me?” I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back.

  “Why do I need you?” Her brows rose, and there was no doubting the challenge in her question.

  “You don’t, but I need to clear my name more than you do, so I’m going to figure this out regardless. I suppose though…” I smiled wickedly, knowing she’d hate what I was going to say, “…if I get arrested, the diner will close.”

  I was right. Her already irritated expression deepened into near rage. But her voice didn’t change a bit as she asked, “Don’t you trust Simon?”

  I had to consider for a moment, and then I admitted, “Yes. But this is my second chance. This is my new life. I won’t risk everything I’m working for—not on blind faith towards someone that I don’t know nearly well enough yet.”

  “So you don’t trust him.”

  “I trust him,” I said struggling to explain. “I trust him to want good for me. I trust him to do everything he can. I trust him to try. I won’t stop beating myself up in jail if I don’t at least try though. Don’t I owe it to myself to clear my name?”

  Zee didn’t reply, but her gaze was heavy on me.

  So, I added the thing I thought would get her to help, “Let alone clearing the names of our diner family.”

  “Smooth,” she said. “I don’t need you.”

  I waited, hoping. There had been something in how she said it that gave me a shred of hope.

  “But I don’t need you fouling things up either.”

  “Ok,” I said, humbly, trying to hold back anything that might set Zee off.

  She glanced me over and then said, “You better not be the killer.”

  I couldn’t help but gasp, but she didn’t care that she’d hurt my feelings a little.

  “I suppose you’re either a crazy killer or you’re innocent. There’s not much of a reason for someone like you to kill that stupid boy.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said.

  She looked over and I realized that I heard the sound of a car. She could see behind me and she said, “Go inside. Eavesdrop if you must, but don’t come out until he’s gone.”

  I obeyed even though I was dying of curiosity. I slid through the door before I was seen on the porch. Whoever she’d seen was out of sight behind bushes now, and they’d see me soon if I stayed outside. I made my way into her house and paused in sheer, unadulterated horror. Everywhere I looked I found ceramic cats with eyes that seemed to follow me. I was convinced they’d be sucking out my soul if I stayed too much longer, but I heard the slam of a car door and dropped to the ground before I was seen.

  Just as heavy boots hit the porch outside, a long-haired, orange tabby cat came around the corner of Zee’s…goodness, it could only be called a parlor. Zee had a maroon settee and those hardback chairs with a sort of velvet fabric. They were all covered in plastic, probably to keep the cat hair off, and it wouldn’t have been any less creepy covered in sheets and cobwebs. There was just something about all those ceramic cats.

  “Where is she?”

  “Picking the last of the apple crop,” I heard Zee say, “She’s experimenting with some apple cheese pie or some other such nonsense. As if anyone wants anything other than apple pie with ice cream like we’ve always served. Girl’s a fool.”

  Simon cleared his throat and I closed my eyes to focus on what he was saying, and—of course—to avoid those cats.

  “It’s not all bad,” he said. “That chocolate layer cake is heavenly. I have to admit though that apple cheese thing sounds nasty.”

  “You always did have a sweet tooth, stupid boy,” Zee said meanly. “Got your head turned by layer cakes and how sweet she is.”

  “She tell you about Kyle?”

  “Course she did. She’s not a big fan of you focusing your investigation on her. Better be careful boy or the first woman who’s captured your eye will move right beyond you. You aren’t the only one with eyes and tastebuds.”

  “Now, Zee,” Simon said placatingly, “Rose isn’t…I’m just…just doing my job.”

  Zee snorted that mean snort of hers and then said she said, “Sure. Keep lying to yourself, but I saw Jeb Mason eyeing her the other day. He won’t believe she killed Kyle, I can tell you that much.”

  “I don’t believe she killed Kyle,” Simon said, and I believed him. I believed him, and it was a shining sun in my chest that warmed me through and through. I cracked open my eyes and leapt in my skin. Three cats were sitting just in front of my feet, ringing me as if they were deciding just where they would begin eating me.

  “Oh goodness,” I whispered, choking back a shriek.

  “Then why do you keep interviewing her?”

  “She isn’t the only one I’ve been interviewing, and quite frankly….you all might have seen something. You all might have been unwitting deliverers of the poison.”

  “It was my table,” Zee said. “I served those two idiots.”

  “You don’t sound very sad that he’s dead.”

  “Being dead does not change Kyle being an idiot nor does grieving make Morgan any less of a two-faced fool.”

  “Zee you’ve always had a way with words. Now that you know it was murder…did you see anything??”

  “Yeah, I saw a lot of things. I saw Tara avoiding the table because Kyle was a cheating dog and Morgan was a no-good betraying piece of trampery. I saw Hector Allen talk Tara into giving him an extra large piece of cake and not paying for it either. I saw four tables that were out of drinks, I saw a pile of cash on table 4 which wasn’t there when I swung by to pick it up. I saw my job. Did you mean did I see anyone jab Kyle in the neck with a needle or put something shady in his food? No, of course I didn’t. I’d have said something to the boy if I had. None of this would ever have happened.”

  Simon cleared his throat and then tried again, “But there wasn’t anyone hanging around the table?”

  Zee coughed and then said, “Simon, when it’s busy like that…you can’t just focus on whether someone is lingering around a table. You’re moving your behind getting the glasses filled, scanning for anything that is wrong. You aren’t looking for poisoners, you’re looking for someone who needs more iced tea. I bet Az could tell you how many meatballs we went through. I bet Tara could tell you how many steps she walked and how whether she had changed the diet coke syrup, but…we were working. And we were working harder than we have in a while. None of us were paying attention to that table.”

  Simon oomphed and then said, “This isn’t a personal attack, Zee. Maybe you know something you don’t realize.”

  “Have you talked to Morgan? They came in together. She was at the table with him.”

  “Of course I have. She and Kyle both left to go to the bathroom. She swears he wasn’t using. That she can tell. She didn’t see anyone do anything to the food.”

  “And does the autopsy bear that out?” Zee’s doubt in the question made it clear just what she thought of Morgan’s reliability.

  “It’s too soon to say,” Simon said as I was thinking, “You sound a little too much like Murder She Wrote. You pumping me for information, Zee?”

  Zee snorted again and said, “I’m concerned that you sound a little too much like The Pink Panther. Normally you have domestic disturbance calls and drunk drivers. You up for this?”

  I winced for Simon and scrunched up my nose, watching the cats watch me. One of them seemed to narrow its eyes at me, and it made me want to crawl backwards, but I wasn’t supposed to be listening, and I didn’t want to be found. What would Simon think if he found me like this? I crawled forward and made my way down the hall. The room at the end of the hall was the kitchen, and I glanced around. What I saw paused me completely. It was an ancient�
��perfectly maintained—green linoleum with green countertops, white cabinets, china cat cookie jars, and bran muffins sitting on the countertop.

  The front door opened and I darted out the back. I found a basket of apples out there. Zee must have been picking apples before I got there. I grabbed it and then I opened the back door. I saw Simon and Zee who eyed the basket of apples and winked at me.

  “Hey…” I glanced around and waited for his hey.

  “Seeing if Zee killed the kid?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Stress baking. I’m thinking apple and cheese pie.”

  “Ooh, yeah. That sounds good,” Simon lied.

  I grinned. I was going to make so many cheese and apple pies and serve them up to him. I could see a cheese and apple pie with a candle on it in my head for his birthday. I wasn’t sure how long I’d torture him, but I was definitely going to torture him for a while. Maybe forever. Even if things worked out between us, I was pretty sure I was going to make so many cheese and apple pies that the mere smell would make him flinch.

  I met Zee’s gaze and it was as if she could read my mind. She gave me one nod and then said, “You’ll do.”

  Simon glanced at her and then back at me.

  I got a wicked wink after that, and I smiled innocently at him.

  “So you two are going to be cooking pie today?” Simon asked. “Good.”

  Zee smiled, but Simon wasn’t looking her way. She’d have given us away if Simon had seen that wicked, snide smirk.

  She snorted the second he was in his car, and we both waved as he drove away. Zee jerked her head towards my car, and I realized she was dismissing me.

  “I thought we were going to investigate,” I said.

  She snorted and I frowned at her.

  I had some more questions, so I paused before I opened the car door. Daisy barked from the front seat, but I ignored her to ask, “Did you know about the files that Jenny kept? On everyone?”