Down Home and Deadly

by Christine Lynxwiler

  Down Home and Deadly

  A Sleuthing Sisters Mystery

  By Christine Lynxwiler, Sandy Gaskin, and Jan Reynolds

  Copyright © 2012 by Christine Lynxwiler, Sandy Gaskin, and Jan Reynolds. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Christine Lynxwiler, Sandy Gaskin, and Jan Reynolds.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Sisters Christine Pearle Lynxwiler, Jan Pearle Reynolds, and Sandy Pearle Gaskin are usually on the same page. And it’s most often a page from their favorite mystery. So when the idea for a Christian cozy mystery series came up during Sunday dinner at Mama’s, they determined to take their dream further than just table talk. Thus the Sleuthing Sisters mystery series was born. The three sisters love to hear from readers by email at SleuthingSisters@yahoo.com.

  OTHER SLEUTHING SISTER MYSTERIES BY CHRISTINE LYNXWILER, SANDY GASKIN, & JAN REYNOLDS

  Death on a Deadline (Book One) - Kindle Edition

  Drop Dead Diva (Book Two) - Kindle Edition

  *****

  *****

  Chapter One

  If you lay down with the dogs, you’ll come up with fleas.

  “Don’t forget to call the groomer to see what time you should pick up Fluffy,” Lisa yelled over her shoulder as she headed toward the sauna.

  I slumped into my chair and reached for the phone book. Nepotism was alive and well in America, and my so-called career was a train wreck.

  Actually, train wreck was probably a little too dramatic. More like an economy car, really. With a dead battery. And me trudging along behind, pushing uphill.

  I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to disperse the cloying scent of Lisa’s expensive perfume. How did I get here? A year ago I was a valued employee, on the fast track to buying my boss’s health club for a good price, with the added bonus of owner financing. Until Bob asked me to show his rich daughter a little about running the club to help her get her confidence back after her recent separation from her husband.

  If Lisa had a confidence problem, she covered it well with a large mask of egotism. Ever since she showed up, I’d been edging closer and closer to becoming an indentured servant. I still had all my old tasks. (Lisa couldn’t figure out how to actually run the club, only how to use the equipment.) But in addition, I was her daytime maid.

  “How low can I go?” I complained to the empty office and picked up the phone, a prayer for patience running through my mind as I flipped through the business card index for the groomer’s number.

  Wait until Carly heard this one. At the thought of my sister’s reaction, my gaze went automatically to the family picture I kept on my desk. Or rather to the place it used to be. “I don’t believe it.” My picture had been replaced by one of Lisa cuddling her pampered pooch.

  I slammed the phone down. “That so does it.”

  Without stopping to analyze, I grabbed an empty plastic bag from Lisa’s expensive takeout lunch and filled it with my personal things. The things I could find.

  I yanked open the top drawer of the desk. There was my family picture. At least it didn’t get thrown out with the garbage. Or stuck in the pool supply closet, like all my paintings from the office wall did when I took a Branson trip awhile back. “She can put up all the modern art she wants now,” I muttered as I cleaned out the drawer.

  Satisfied I had everything I couldn’t live without, I snatched up my keys. “I’m outta here.”

  I stomped down the hall, pushed open the front door, and crashed into Bob.

  “Jenna?” He shifted the box he was carrying to effectively block my exit. “What are you doing?”

  I took a reluctant step back into the building. “Leaving.”

  “When will you be back?”

  When your daughter figures out she isn’t the queen of the universe. “When you’re ready to sign on the dotted line and make me the owner.” Same thing.

  His face reddened. “Ah, Jenna. I was about ready to do that, actually. But something’s come up and I’m a little short on cash. So even if I did sell it to you now, I couldn’t owner finance. My accountant. . .”

  I hadn’t been impressed the first time Bob told me what excuse he and his accountant had cooked up for not selling me the place, and I sure didn’t plan to stay around and listen to it again. I put my hand on the box to move it out of my way.

  “Wait!” Bob quickly opened the box and pulled something from it. He gave me his most suave smile and dropped the box at his feet. He held up a blue T-shirt. White lettering across the front commanded, “Get in the Swim with Jenna Stafford.”

  I frowned. He hoped to win me over with the very T-shirts I’d protested? Capitalizing on my Olympic glory (or lack of, in my opinion, considering I lost) had been the thing I disliked most about this job. A necessary evil. But definitely not a persuasion point for staying.

  His smile stretched wider. “I know how you always hated the pink ones, so I got them in blue.”

  I sighed. “We both know who asked for them in blue.” Demanded was more like it. “And speaking of her. . .” I moved the T-shirt out of my way like a bull charging a red cloth and brushed past him. “You’d better call the groomer to see what time you should pick up Fluffy.” The door closed behind me.

  Thankfully he didn’t follow me.

  Something about standing in front of the familiar building with my belongings in a plastic bag made my insides quiver. After months of giving notice then giving in to Bob’s pleading to stay, I’d finally done it. I’d quit. I took a deep breath of fresh September air and exhaled slowly. Would I be sorry? Eventually, maybe, but not today.

  My cell rang before I got to my vehicle. I glanced at the caller ID. Bob. Probably couldn’t find the groomer’s number. I ignored the call and stowed my stuff in the front seat of the SUV. Before I could turn the key, Sister Sledge belted out, “We Are Family.”

  I jumped. Since my old phone was at the bottom of Table Rock Lake, I’d been forced to get a new one. And I still hadn’t gotten used to the personalized ringtones my nephew Zac had set up for me. What was it with teenagers and technology? And why did my youthful thirty suddenly seem so old?

  At least I had sense enough to know that ringtone was my sister, Carly. Just what I needed—a sympathetic ear.

  I flipped the phone open.

  She started to talk so fast I couldn’t understand a single word.

  “Carly. Slow down.”

  “The. Grand. Opening. Of. Down Home. Diner. It’s two weeks from Friday. That’s sixteen days.” She enunciated her words as if English was my second language. Or third.

  Even though buying and refurbishing the Lake View Diner had been Carly’s dream, the realization of that dream was proving a wee bit stressful. “I know that. Remember, I made sure I wasn’t on the schedule at the athletic club that day so that I could help you?” I started the engine. “Not that it matters now.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter now?” The frantic tone was back. “It matters to me. I need your help!”

  “You’ve got it. As much as you need.” I resisted the urge to peel out of the parking lot as I raged about the injustices I’d endured. She sympathized until finally my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel relaxed. When I was almost home, I half-laughed. “Sorry for ranting so long. But that’s it. I’m not working there anymore.”

  “When I called, I was going to ask you
to see if Bob could let you have a few days off. But now, with you quitting, well, this is just perfect.” I guess she heard herself, because she hastily added, “Heaven knows I’ve been so irritated at Bob since he brought Lisa in and made you a flunky.”

  “Thanks for clearing up any remaining delusions I might have had about my job.”

  “Hey, that’s what sisters are for.” Carly paused. “You okay with this?”

  “Sure. I will be.” I slowed at my street and turned on the blinker then glanced in the rearview mirror. Not a car in sight. So at least my boss hadn’t followed me home. “And I really don’t want to talk to Bob for a few days, anyway.” With any other job, I’d have felt bad about not giving notice, but I had been giving notice ever since Lisa came. Bob just hadn’t been listening.

  “Great. How fast can you get over here?”

  *****

  “Who put that table with a checker set on it out on the porch?” Alice asked, her graying brows drawn together.

  Carly looked up from a booth where she’d spent the morning interviewing wait staff and cooks. “I did.”

  Alice pursed her lips and nodded.

  Carly gave me a look that said, “Can you handle this, please?” and turned back to Marco, a young Italian who’d done a great job working at the health club for several months. Until Lisa fired him a couple of days ago out of the blue. I’d asked Carly to interview him, so I owed her.

  I put my hand on Alice’s arm. “You’ve been working hard. I made some tea awhile ago. Want some?”

  Alice nodded. “That sounds good.”

  I picked up my cell phone off the counter and slid it into my pocket as I pushed open the double doors. Something about the new phone made it hard to keep up with. I didn’t even remember putting it there.

  Alice followed me into the kitchen. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled your sister wanted to buy our diner, but she sure has some strange ideas.”

  “Change is never easy.” I smiled at my reflection in the stainless steel side-by-side refrigerator. I’d been moonlighting incognito for about a year as local advice columnist Dear Pru. Now I was starting to sound like her in my everyday conversations. “You loved the diner just like it was.” I handed her a glass of ice.

  She gave me a sharp look.

  “I mean, everyone did. Love it,” I stammered. So much for being wise. “But it’s normal for Carly to want to do some things to make it her own.”

  “Carly might do well to remember what your mama always says.”

  I poured tea into her glass. “What’s that?” Unlike me, our mama is a fount of wisdom. Hard to know which thing Alice was referring to.

  “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” She took a big chug of her tea.

  I was pretty sure my mama had never said the word ain’t in her life, but I had heard her echo that general sentiment before. “Oh. Yeah.”

  Harvey pushed open the doors. “You know why she’s got that table out on the porch?”

  Alice shook her head, and I didn’t breathe. The table on the porch was just a tiny piece of the bigger picture my sister had in mind. But telling Alice and Harvey had been the fly in the ointment from the beginning. And I wasn’t about to take on the task.

  Harvey grunted. “She’s got some fool idea about people playing dominoes and checkers out there.”

  Alice gasped. “Did you tell her that this is a diner? The whole idea is to get people to eat and then leave so more people can eat.”

  Harvey grabbed a hammer from the closet and headed back out. “I told her,” he called over his shoulder. “But beneath that soft drawl, she’s got a mind of her own.”

  Did I detect a bit of admiration in his voice? Harvey and Alice had been our parents’ friends for so long, that I could definitely understand why it was hard for them to see Carl and Elizabeth’s little girls trying to make over the diner they’d poured their hearts and souls into all these years.

  “Checkers and dominoes,” Alice scoffed under her breath as she finished off her tea. “Might as well put rocking chairs out there, too.”

  I don’t play poker. And it’s a good thing. Because my poker face wouldn’t fool anyone.

  Alice looked at me, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “You don’t mean it?”

  I nodded. Why hadn’t Carly just come clean with them about her big plans? She’d convinced herself—and me—that they’d take it easier in small bites. I wasn’t so sure.

  Alice huffed out. I savored the peacefulness of the quiet kitchen and considered calling Alex to invite him to come help us paint tonight. We needed all the hands we could get. And it’d definitely be more fun with him here. That was a no-brainer. I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit the button that redials the last number dialed.

  “Hey, babe.”

  I frowned. That didn’t sound like my fiancé, but I thought sure he was the last one I called. “Alex?”

  “I’m sorry. I believe you have the wrong number.”

  I held the phone out and looked at the screen. It read—“Connected to Me.” What did that even mean? I groaned inwardly. “Sorry. My bad.”

  I pushed the end button just as the double doors opened again and Debbie walked in with a roll of wallpaper in her hand. The waitress had been so thrilled to stay on at the diner that she’d offered to help out with the remodeling. Carly had accepted and gladly agreed to pay her. Even though I had two strikes against me with her—one, that she’d always liked Alex, and two, that she was Lisa’s best friend—she’d been nothing but friendly to me.

  When she saw me, her eyes widened and she stopped. “Is that my phone?”

  I smiled. “No, this is my new—” My smile faded as I remembered the wrong number. I held up the phone. “Does your phone look like this?”

  “Yes.”

  I ducked my head. “I’m sorry. So does mine. Exactly. I haven’t had mine long enough to tell it from someone else’s, I guess.” I held it out to her.

  She snatched the phone out of my hand. “Did you use it?”

  I stared at her. Talk about overreacting. Even if her cell phone minutes were limited, I’d only had the phone for a minute. “I hit the last call dialed, thinking I’d call Alex, but obviously it wasn’t him.”

  She didn’t answer, just mashed a couple of buttons on the phone and stared at the screen. “Did you talk to someone?”

  I’d been interrogated by police that weren’t this stern. “Just a guy who said I had the wrong number. I’m sorry I got confused.”

  Her smile looked a little forced, but at least it was a smile. She pushed a strand of her bleached-blond hair behind her ear. “No worries. That happens. I just got mine too, yesterday.”

  “And wouldn’t you know I’d steal it today? We need to get one of those label makers. Remember those? When I was about ten, Mama got one to label things at the cabins, and I labeled the whole house. Even the furniture.”

  Her smile relaxed. “I do remember those. One summer I went to camp with ‘Debbie’ in raised white letters on bright blue tape stuck on everything I owned.”

  Raised voices in the dining room interrupted our soft laughter.

  “Do they know yet?” Debbie whispered.

  I shrugged. “It sounds like maybe they do now.”

  With trepidation, I walked over to the door and peeked out. Marco was gone, and Carly stood facing Harvey and Alice, who had their backs to me.

  Carly saw me and motioned me to her. “Jenna, come tell them that you think the new name is great.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Debbie who shooed me out. “I’ll just be in here hanging wallpaper and minding my own business.”

  “Chicken,” I muttered. I walked over to the tense trio. “You have to admit that ‘Down Home Diner’ has a ring to it.”

  “What does ‘Down Home’ mean, anyway?” Alice asked, her nose crinkling like a skunk had suddenly crawled up under the diner and died.

  “You know what ‘Down Home’ means,” Harvey insisted. “Country
and common.” He waved his hand to the porch. “That’s why that table’s out there, obviously. Checkers and dominoes are ‘Down Home.’ ”

  She narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Whose side are you on?”

  “You know I’m on your side. I always have been. I was just answering your question.”

  Alice took a couple of steps backward, and Harvey pulled a chair out for her to sit on.

  Seated, she looked up at Carly, her eyes swimming with tears. “We should have put in the contract that you couldn’t do that.” She grabbed a paper napkin from the table in front of her and wiped her nose. She motioned toward the small delicately lettered sign Carly had just finished and placed on the pie counter. “It’s crazy enough to be giving police officers in uniform a free piece of pie. But I’d never have thought of anyone changing the name of the diner.”

  Harvey ran his finger around the collar of his checked shirt. “Actually, remember when Mom and Pop first turned the diner over to us? You wanted to rename it Alice’s Restaurant. But Mom had a fit.”

  For a second, Alice’s face opened as if she were remembering a younger her—full of plans and hopes. But then she pinched her lips together and shrugged. “And rightly so. I was a silly kid who didn’t know what was what.”

  I glanced at Carly, wondering how she’d handle the inference. But her Southern graciousness won out.

  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Alice,” she said softly. “But this is a fresh start for me. And the Down Home Diner is what I need.”

  My sister, the quintessential steel magnolia.

  Alice slumped. “Oh, it’s okay. You bought it. You should be able to call it whatever you want. I’m just an old fool.”

  Harvey sat down beside her and patted her hand. “This is a fresh start for us, too, Allie. Heaven knows we need one. And I think it’ll be easier for us to let go of the Down Home Diner than the Lake View Diner.”

  She nodded. “You might be right.”