by Leena Clover
Copyright © Leena Clover, Author 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Back to the Fajitas
A Meera Patel Mystery
By Leena Clover
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Thank You
Glossary
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Books by Leena Clover
Gone with the Wings – Meera Patel Cozy Mystery Book 1
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071WHNM6K
A Pocket Full of Pie - Meera Patel Cozy Mystery Book 2
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072Q7B47P/
For a Few Dumplings More - Meera Patel Cozy Mystery Book 3
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072V3T2BV
Back to the Fajitas - Meera Patel Cozy Mystery Book 4
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0748KPTLM
To road trips with the family
Chapter 1
I swallowed a big mouthful of my favorite breakfast and closed my eyes, savoring the smoky, spicy flavors. None of the Patels chomping on their meal had any inkling of what was to come.
Even with eyes closed, I knew what my grandpa was up to. He may be over 80, but he acts like a child most of the time.
“Put that butter down, Pappa!”
Pappa glared at me and cut off almost half a stick of butter in protest. He began slathering his thepla flatbread with it until every inch was dripping with melted butter. Motee Ba, my grandma, snatched the butter from him. She speared the buttery thepla with a fork and it landed in my brother Jeet’s plate.
“Hansa!” my grandpa roared.
The gingham curtains in the kitchen window fluttered in the cool spring breeze. We were all gathered around the table for breakfast, and it was the usual mad scramble.
“Are you happy now, girl?” Pappa gave me the stink eye.
I ignored him and went on eating.
My name is Meera Patel and I am a 20 something girl from Swan Creek, Oklahoma. I live on the outskirts of town in our huge 6 bedroom ranch along with my extended family. We call this a ‘joint family’, where several generations try to coexist under the same roof. It’s not easy by any account, but we do end up having fun.
“Settle down, Pappa,” my Dad said as he walked in. “You need to watch your diet if you want to go with us.”
My father is the head honcho at the electrical engineering department at Pioneer Polytechnic, our local university. He rarely involves himself in family matters. He never has time for small talk.
“Shut up, gadhedo,” Pappa glared. “I’m going no matter what. I don’t need your permission.”
Pappa loves calling Dad an ass. It’s almost become a nick name. The phone rang before Motee Ba could call him out for swearing.
“Hi Sylvie,” she chirped.
“Is she baking our pies today?” Jeet asked eagerly.
Sylvie’s pies are the talk of the county. And they are really that good. We never go anywhere without stocking up on some of them.
Motee Ba held up a hand, motioning Jeet to be quiet. Her face had turned ashen. The mood in the room changed as everyone noticed it one by one and stared at my grandma.
“We’re just finishing breakfast,” Motee Ba told Sylvie. “We’ll be there soon.”
I sprang up and gently guided her to a chair. I poured a glass of water and made her drink it. Motee Ba sat stunned, staring at the table.
“What is it?” Pappa leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Hansa?”
Motee Ba looked at me and her eyes flickered. I got the message.
“Are you all done here?” I asked and started clearing the table. “Why don’t you go watch TV, Pappa? Isn’t Law & Order on right now?”
Pappa ignored me and tapped his cane.
“Don’t treat me like a child, girl! Tell me what’s wrong, Hansa. Tell me right now!”
“It’s Charlie Gibson,” Motee Ba barely whispered. “He’s gone.”
“But we’re meeting for lunch today!” Pappa exclaimed. “Bet that no good boy dragged him off somewhere.”
Then he realized what Motee Ba meant. His face blanched in shock. Jeet sidled closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
Dad finally looked up and realized something was wrong.
“Sylvie heard from Audrey. She’s going over there now with Jon.”
Pappa stood up and tapped his cane.
“So are we. Get ready, Hansa!”
“I’ll go with you,” I offered, and Motee Ba nodded in relief.
The woman seated next to my Dad frowned. I understood.
“You don’t have to come, Sally.”
She had been quiet all this time. She didn’t know Charlie Gibson. But she had a worried look on her face. She looked at Pappa and smiled reassuringly. Pappa seemed to take some comfort from it.
Pappa has a few old cronies in town. Charlie Gibson had been one of them. They were all in the twilight of their lives, so this type of news is kinda expected, I guess. But losing a friend is always hard. Pappa’s temper is mercurial at best. I had no idea how he would take this sudden news.
I helped Motee Ba get ready and drove them to Charlie Gibson’s house. There was a long line of cars and trucks in the cul de sac where Charlie’s house was situated. News travels really fast in our town.
I spotted Jon and Sylvie’s truck and frowned when I saw the car next to it. What was Stan Miller doing here? Then I spotted an ambulance with the lights off and my curiosity deepened.
Stan waddled out just as I finished helping Pappa and Motee Ba out of the car.
“Looks like a tough one, Meera,” he plunged ahead without greeting us.
“Did his heart give out?” I asked tentatively.
“H
is heart gave out alright,” Stan growled. “After he was stabbed to death.”
“What do you mean?” I asked the stupid question.
“He was murdered,” Stan said flatly. “No doubt about it.”
“Meera,” Motee Ba cried out as Pappa seemed to wobble.
I grabbed him tightly and coaxed him to sit inside the car. Sylvie and Jon came out, looking sad.
“It’s best you don’t go in there,” she warned Motee Ba. “Not a pretty sight.”
“I want to pay my respects,” Pappa objected.
“They’re sealing the place now anyway, Mr. Patel,” Stan soothed. “This is a crime scene now.”
“Can I have a look?” I asked.
“Do you really want to?” Stan pursed his lips.
I had been roped into solving a couple of murders earlier that year. But what was I thinking? I am not strong enough to stomach a gory crime scene.
“Maybe not,” I agreed.
“You can pay your respects at the funeral,” Jon coaxed Pappa.
“But we’re leaving in a couple of days,” he cried.
The entire Patel clan was embarking on an epic road trip for Spring Break. This was going to be a family caper, and Pappa was excited. We were going to drive all the way to the California coast to Sally’s house, and take in some sights in between. Other than some trips to New Jersey to visit my aunt, or camping trips in the Oklahoma wilderness, we have never taken a family vacation. Everyone was looking forward to it.
“We’ll think of something, don’t worry,” Sylvie patted Pappa. “I think it’s best to leave now.”
I shuffled everyone back in the car and followed Jon’s truck to the diner.
Sylvie’s Café & Diner is a fixture in our small town. The locals gather here for Sylvie’s down home cooking. Her pies are legendary. It’s also the place everyone congregates to get the latest scoop.
The parking lot was bursting and the hum of conversation could be heard outside. Becky, my best friend, was busy pouring coffee. She looked up when she saw us.
“You’re back already?”
Sylvie ushered her into the kitchen and I followed.
“I’m glad you didn’t go inside, child,” Sylvie said to me. “And it was too much for your grandpa.”
“Charlie Gibson was stabbed,” I burst out, bringing Becky up to speed.
She almost dropped her coffee pot.
“Another murder? What’s happening to this town?”
“Never mind that now,” Sylvie ordered. “You girls get some good strong coffee for us. And those muffins I baked earlier. Let’s get some sugar inside your grandpa, Meera.”
I made Pappa eat the muffin and added real sugar to his coffee. He’s a tea drinker so I had to force him to take a few sips.
“Why would anyone kill Charlie?” Pappa asked the question foremost on everyone’s mind.
A few people turned to look at our table. I bet they were all talking about the same thing. The breakfast rush was over and the diner seemed too full for midweek.
“Vultures,” Sylvie spat.
Sylvie’s café had suffered from some false allegations. People had boycotted the diner not once but twice that year. These were the same people who had been eating at least one meal a day at Sylvie’s for decades. Sylvie had been hurt deeply by the town’s reaction.
“He was here yesterday,” Jon supplied.
“He never missed my meatloaf,” Sylvie said. “He was here at 12:30 every Tuesday, like clockwork.”
“Did he seem well?” Motee Ba asked. “He didn’t look sick?”
That didn’t really matter in this case, but I kept my mouth shut.
“He was never sick in his life!” Pappa boomed. “Not a single day.”
“It was that schedule he kept,” Jon nodded. “Never seen anyone stick to routine like that.”
A tear rolled down Pappa’s eye.
“I bet it was that kid he took in. Told him it was a bad idea.”
“We don’t really know that for sure,” Jon objected.
Pappa was referring to Leo Smith, an orphan Charlie had taken in a few months ago. No one knew anything about Leo. My grandpa had never warmed to the kid for some reason.
He flung a finger at me and bristled.
“You need to find out who did this, girl.”
“Pappa,” I objected. “The police are on the job. I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Bah!” he roared. “We all know you’re smarter than that Miller boy. I want justice for my friend.”
My Dad and Pappa had both opposed my amateur sleuthing so far. I was sure he was speaking in the heat of the moment.
“Sure, Pappa,” I said.
I had no intention of getting pulled into the affair. Spring Break was two days away and I was going to have a whale of a time, no matter what. I badly needed to unwind after the roller coaster ride my life had been for the past six months.
“So are you coming with us or not?” I asked Becky urgently, pulling her away from the grownups.
“Not,” Becky said glumly.
“Did Sylvie say no? I can talk to her.”
“I haven’t asked her.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she warded me off.
“I’m not going to, Meera. You know the diner was shut down for a long time. I need to stay here and help Sylvie get it back on track.”
“Now you’re making me feel bad about the trip,” I grumbled.
“You’ve helped us a lot already,” Becky protested. “Chicken Curry Sundays are a hit and so are the samosa dumplings and the pakora fritters. You go have fun.”
“I’ll think of some more recipes on the road,” I promised.
“You focus on spending time with Sally.” Becky gave me a knowing look.
Sally Rossi had come into our lives suddenly this year. Her arrival had turned my life upside down, and I had tried to ignore her as much as I could. But my heart was slowly warming toward her, against my best intentions. My brain screamed and issued all kinds of dire warnings. But the glow in my heart was growing stronger.
She was my mother, after all.
Chapter 2
Sally had lunch ready for us when we got home. I warmed a big pot of tomato soup on the stove. Motee Ba was in the living room, trying to make small talk with Pappa.
Sally was buttering bread, layering them with cheese slices. None of us had an appetite that day and we just shoveled in some food to please Sally.
I drove to the gas station the moment I was done. Tony came out before I finished parking my car at the back. Tony Sinclair is my best friend in this world. More so than Becky but I won’t admit it in front of her. I think she knows anyway.
Tony’s mother comes from Mumbai in India, or Bombay as she refers to it. I call her Aunt Reema, but Tony’s no cousin of mine. I had a big crush on him in high school. Then we went our separate ways, all set to slay the world. Fate had brought us back to Swan Creek. We are very close now, close friends. We are not ready to consider anything more, at least not right now.
All said, I can’t imagine life without Tony.
“You didn’t go in there, did you?” he asked worriedly, pulling me into a tight hug.
I knew what he was talking about. The town grapevine must have been working overtime.
“Stan said it wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“And you did the sensible thing for a change?” Tony asked in disbelief.
“It’s not that. I don’t want anything to spoil our trip.”
“You can’t brush off what happened, Meera. Charlie Gibson’s no more. How’s your grandpa taking it?”
“He wants me to work on it,” I burst out. “Can you imagine? After all the grief he gave me for trying to find Jyothi!”
“Don’t tell me you’re considering it?” Tony’s face fell. “I’m really looking forward to Vegas.”
“Don’t worry, Tony. Nothing’s coming between us and this road trip.”
We high fived
each other, excited about the trip. So it wasn’t going to be some wild drunken sortie like you saw in the movies. But I was fine with that. We were going to have fun with the family, a different kind of fun.
“So what’s Becky going to do?” Tony asked.
“She’s staying back. So it’s just the one car for us.”
“Sounds like a hoot,” Tony smiled.
“Oh no!” I moaned. “Squashed in a car with Pappa for hours together?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be stopping every other hour.”
We talked about the trip for a while and my mood improved. I drove to work and stayed until late to make up for my hours. I walked to the food court around 6 to grab a bite before they closed. I caught a glimpse of someone familiar as I bit into my burger.
“Leo!” I called out.
He didn’t turn back.
I was almost sure the fleeting figure had belonged to Leo Smith. But what was he doing out here on the Pioneer campus? That too on the day he had lost his benefactor?
I was asleep on my feet by the time I reached home. It was almost 10. Sally was sitting in the kitchen with Motee Ba. She stood up and started warming up some food for me.
“Is that the shopping list?” I asked Motee Ba after gulping down my dinner.
She nodded.
“Your mother and I will go to the city and get most of this tomorrow. Let me know if you want to add something.”
I skimmed over the items. Everything from chewing gum to batteries was listed on it.
“Toilet paper? We are going to stay in hotels, Motee Ba. Good hotels.”
“You never know with those rest areas,” she said. “Better to be prepared.”
Judging by the mile long list, we were prepared for the Apocalypse.
“Becky’s not coming so I guess we’ll be taking the LX.”
Motee Ba’s face lit up.
“We’ll all fit right in.”
The LX is a behemoth, but seven people in a car is a bit too much, if you ask me. Better than playing tag on the Interstate though. When we take multiple cars, half the time is spent in wondering where the other car is.
I dragged my feet at work the next day, counting the hours until Spring Break. The campus was emptying pretty fast, and groups of college kids could be seen hurrying around dropping names like Cancun and Acapulco.