by Elise Sax
“I think it might be him.” My voice came out in a barely audible croak. “Boone. But it’s not sure. So, I need to prove he’s innocent. I need to find the true serial killer.”
Nora picked up a baby, who crawled into the kitchen smeared with something green all over his face. Holding the baby on her lap, Nora wiped his face with a napkin. “I’ve known the Goodnight family my whole life. They’re good people, but they’re tough. Real tough. Boone and Amos were raised as hunters. Boone knows how to kill. But I’ve never seen him be mean. He gave me the money for my food truck. Did you know that?” I nodded. “But folks around here have secrets. You know that better than anyone.”
“You think he did it?” I asked her, my eyes filling with tears.
“No. But… I’ll help you prove he didn’t do it. Tell me what you want. I’ve got your back.” Nora put her hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, leaving a thin layer of green slime on it. “Let me know when you need me. I’ll get my family to pick up the slack. Should I get a gun or one of those metal batons that breaks kneecaps? I already have brass knuckles in my underwear drawer. I think Faye has some black commando uniforms. That might come in handy.”
“I don’t think we’ll need a gun or a metal baton,” I said.
“What about the black commando uniforms?”
“Keep those. We might need them.”
Nora invited me to hide out in her food truck all day, but even though I was still avoiding Boone, I had to be out and about to clear his name. I parked my car in Nora’s garage, and she drove me to the diner. She dropped me off in the alley behind the diner, and I snuck inside.
I closed the door gently behind me. To my left was the Diner’s small kitchen. Ahead was a little bathroom, and beyond was the dining room. I craned my head to see if Boone was there.
“What’re you doing?” Morris the cook demanded, pointing a spatula at my head. “Are you here to steal more potatoes?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Nobody stole your potatoes,” Adele said, coming up behind me. She was one of my best friends and the owner of the Goodnight Diner. “They must have screwed up the shipment.”
“There was a bag full in the alley, and then there wasn’t,” Morris insisted.
Adele rolled her eyes. “Nobody steals potatoes.”
“I’ve never stolen potatoes,” I told him. Morris harrumphed and returned to his kitchen.
“The town’s gone crazy,” Adele told me. “Morris says his potatoes were stolen, and Derek said someone stole his dirty pair of socks out of the back of his truck. Ridiculous. Men, am I right?” She grabbed my hand and looked at the ring. “That’s the ring, huh? Boone broke the bank for that one. So, do you really think he killed Amy Goodnight?”
Chapter 2
I pulled my hand out of Adele’s grasp. “What? How do you know about the ring and Amy Goodnight?”
“Nora told me.”
“How? I was with her the whole time. Never mind. Goodnight gossip defies the laws of physics. So, what do you think?”
“I don’t know. You’re the professional killer chaser. I’ll do whatever you say. Faye’s gathering all of her tactical gear, so we’re ready. What’s the plan?” Tactical gear? The plan?
“I don’t have a plan yet. I’m trying to avoid Boone while I figure out what’s going on. Is he here?”
Adele shook her head. “Haven’t seen him, but he rarely comes in here. You want a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, and the breakfast special.”
Adele sat me in a corner of the diner, out of sight of anyone passing by outside, in case Boone was looking for me. Actually, Boone was probably still asleep. It wasn’t even seven in the morning yet, and he was a late sleeper unless he was out on a dig, searching for dinosaur bones.
Adele poured me a cup of coffee. I added cream and two sugars and took a sip. I could feel it go down my body, warming me up and giving me a much-needed jolt of caffeine and sugar. I took another couple sips when Rocco and Mabel walked in.
Rocco’s hand was on Mabel’s lower back, and she was smiling. It was the first time I had seen her smile, as far as I could remember.
“Glorious morning, townspeople!” Rocco announced, loudly. “Happiest day ever!”
Adele put the breakfast special order down on my table and went to meet Rocco and Mabel. “Booth or table?” she asked them.
“Your finest table for the finest woman in Goodnight!” Rocco’s voice boomed over the general din in the diner. Conversations stopped, and heads popped up to see what the commotion was about. Rocco held Mabel’s left hand up for everyone to see. She was wearing a humongous diamond on her ring finger. I gasped with egg in my mouth and nearly choked. I never knew diamonds could get that big. It was a wonder that Mabel could even move her hand with that much weight on it.
“Are you two getting hitched?” Adele asked, incredulous. She was right to be surprised. Mabel wasn’t exactly the marrying kind. She was a hard-headed, no-nonsense Miss Bossypants, who competed regularly with Rocco to see who could better the town more. Between the two of them, they had at least one harebrained entrepreneurial scheme a week that failed miserably. But I had recently learned that Rocco had a big crush on Mabel and that’s the reason he had moved to Goodnight.
“Everyone’s getting married,” Adele said. “Matilda got engaged, too.”
Mabel’s face dropped into disappointment and kept dropping until it reached fury and rage. She yanked her hand away from Rocco in a swift, violent movement and stared me down. I stuffed a slice of bacon in my mouth and chewed nervously. Mabel marched across the diner in her sensible shoes until she reached my table.
“How dare you?” she demanded. Her normally low voice was turned up in a high-pitched shriek. We were definitely the center of attention now. I scooted my chair back out of her reach, in case she planned on hitting me. Mabel was twice my age and twice my girth, but she could probably take me in a fight without breathing hard. “You better not steal my thunder!”
“No. I…look…I mean...” I stuttered and stammered. Mabel was madder than spit that my engagement was detracting from her engagement. I guessed that Mabel had waited a lifetime to be the center of the attention, and she wasn’t going to let me take that away from her.
She wagged her thick index finger at me. “If you think you’re going to wear an ivory mermaid wedding dress with a pearl drop neckline, lace veil, and kitten heels just like mine, you’ve got another think coming, missy! I’ll scratch your eyes out! I’ll pummel that little, perky face of yours until you’re unrecognizable! I’ll…” she stammered and tried to catch her breath. “Because that’s what I’m wearing! You’re copying me! You’re stealing my day!”
I crouched down in my chair, trying to make myself into the smallest target possible. “No…I…I mean, I’m still technically married. I don’t have a wedding date, and I don’t know what kitten heels are,” I squeaked. I scooted my chair back against the wall, and my face was frozen in a permanent flinch.
“And take off that ring! You can show it off next week. This week is for me. For me! Are we clear?” Mabel’s face was a dark crimson, and I could have sworn I saw tears in her eyes.
Her emotion was infectious. Where I had been thrilled at Boone’s proposal, Rocco’s proposal had meant everything to Mabel. It wasn’t just her happy ending; it was her miracle. I took my ring off and handed it to Adele, who was passing by with dirty plates.
“Would you keep this for me for a couple days?” I asked Adele, who nodded and took the ring from me.
“I’ll keep it safe for you, sweetie,” she told me and shot Mabel a look that could kill. Adele always had my back.
I felt both lighter and sadder without the ring. It had been a reminder of my happy ending, which was in danger of being ripped away from me if my suspicions turned out to be correct about Boone. But Mabel seemed slightly mollified, and when Rocco slipped his arm around her waist, she let him lead her to another table at the other end of th
e diner.
Phew. What a day, and it was only seven o’clock in the morning. I wanted to hide from the world in my bed, but Boone was in my bed, and I was hiding from him too. I dipped my toast into the runny egg and took a large bite, washing it down with coffee. Adele’s diner made great food. I wondered where Morris had learned to cook. His taciturn self didn’t give off a celebrity chef vibe, even though he was probably the best cook in town, much to Amos’s frustration.
Amos Goodnight had a gourmet kitchen, and cooking was his guilty pleasure. He had cooked for me once in his sprawling house, a ranch palace that would have made J.R. Ewing jealous. The last time I saw Amos, he was upset when he received a mysterious box that had belonged to his dead wife, Amy. I wondered if the box held a clue to her death. There had been no sign of Amos since he received the box, and if I was going to ask him about it, I would have to go to his place and try to squeeze the information out of him.
I was chewing my breakfast, deep in thought, when Adele tackled me. Bacon flew out of my mouth, and I braced myself with my hands on the table so I wouldn’t fall over. “He’s here. He’s coming in,” Adele hissed into my ear. She was blocking me with her body so I couldn’t be seen.
“Who? Boone?”
“No. The Pope. Who do you think I’m talking about? Of course I mean Boone.”
She nudged me, and I stood up, hunched over, as Adele continued to shield me. We walked to the back of the diner like that until we got to the back door. “Let me know what you want me to do. I’ve got an M16 in my linen closet,” Adele told me, as she shoved me out the back door and slammed it shut.
My hand flew to my chest as I tried to catch my breath. My heart was pounding, and I willed it to slow down. If I kept this up, I was going to have a stroke, and no way was I going to die before Tilly. That would be too humiliating. I needed to get this mystery solved pronto and stop hiding from my fiancé…who might be a serial killer, or I was going to drop dead from stress.
First thing was first. I needed to know for sure if Boone was guilty or not. I had to use all of my nosiness talent to look into his life. And I needed help to do it, somebody with a lot of tools who could break into places. My friend Faye was that person. She was Goodnight’s best contractor and one of my best friends.
Faye lived across the Plaza above the Goodnight UFOs shop, which she owned with her husband, Norton. If I walked across the Plaza, Boone would spot me, so I needed to take a circuitous route through the alleys to get there.
That’s why the five-minute walk took me fifteen minutes. But I got to Goodnight UFOs without being seen.
Even though the store was closed, the back door was unlocked, and I walked right in. “Faye, it’s Matilda,” I called. “I’m coming up.”
I walked up the stairs to the second floor, calling out to Faye as I climbed, in order to give her advance warning. Norton was waiting for me at the top, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. He was a very large man, and he pulled me in for a bear hug when he saw me.
“Congratulations, little woman,” he said. “Boone’s a winner. You’re going to be a great couple.”
“Norton, I think you left the water on in the kitchen,” Faye said, patting his back. Norton let me go.
“Drat. I keep doing that, don’t I?” Norton said and happily skipped out of the room.
Faye hugged me. “Congratulations,” she said. “And I’m so sorry.”
That about summed it all up. Congratulations and sorry.
“You’ve heard all about it, right?” I asked.
“Yes. I can’t believe Amy visited you. That’s shocking. And the Boone part. That’s shocking, too,” she said, her voice drifting off.
“I need to first prove that he’s innocent.” Faye and I locked eyes, and the message was clear. If he’s innocent. “Do you have time today?”
“I’ll make time,” Faye said.
An hour and a half later, we were in Albuquerque, sitting in Faye’s truck in Boone’s driveway. Boone was renting a part of my house while he hunted dinosaur bones, but he owned a house in Albuquerque, a few miles away from the university where he was a tenured professor.
“Boy, this doesn’t look like Boone at all,” Faye said, looking up at Boone’s large, modern house. “All white and glass. Clean. Totally unlike him.”
“Maybe we don’t know the real Boone,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Faye touched my arm. “Are you ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
We got out, and Faye locked her truck. Faye had brought her large toolbox, and she was wearing her tool belt. The house was on a small hill, and we trudged up the driveway and then another ten steps before we got to the front door.
“Simple deadbolt and knob lock. It won’t take me a minute. Keep watch, Matilda,” Faye ordered.
I looked up and down the street. Far away, I saw two women in yoga pants, pushing strollers. It was a typical American suburban street. Very homey. Very happily ever after. The houses were all custom made, though, not cookie-cutter. Upscale.
“How much money does a college professor make?” I asked as Faye pushed the door open.
“A kajillion dollars?” Faye guessed, as we walked inside and took a gander at the beautiful, modern home. There were tall ceilings and walls of windows. The furniture was sparse, ultra-modern, and clean. Boone’s room in my house in Goodnight was filled with dust, dinosaur bones, a long wooden table that looked like it was dug out of the trash, and a small cot. This house looked nothing like that. Nothing.
Boone’s brother Amos had a huge, luxury ranch, but his house looked like the cowboy he was. “Maybe the Goodnight family has a lot of money, and Boone inherited some of it?” I suggested, opening the humongous refrigerator in the kitchen. It was completely empty except for an open box of baking soda.
“Maybe we’ll find clues upstairs in his room,” Faye said.
We went upstairs and saw a lot more of the same thing. Modern furniture and not a speck of dirt. Boone’s bedroom was mammoth.
“What kind of bed is this?” I asked. “It’s bigger than a king.”
“You could fit four people on it, easy,” Faye said, and we locked eyes. “You think he’s into that, too?”
“Too? You mean in addition to abducting and killing girls?”
I fought my desire to flop onto the floor in a puddle of self-pity. Instead, I searched through Boone’s drawers in his closet, a behemoth room bigger than my bedroom and kitchen combined. I found nothing out of the ordinary, just perfectly pressed clothes, shined shoes, and a Costco jumbo box of assorted condoms.
“Jackpot!” Faye called from the other room. I followed her voice to what looked like Boone’s office. The room was nothing like the rest of the house. There was a huge desk in the center of the room, made of dark wood. The walls were lined with large bookshelves in the same dark wood, and there were several tables laid out in the corner.
The office was a mess, stuffed with books, papers, and every sort of archaeological artifact and bone. But it wasn’t dirty. The mess was organized, almost loved. I picked up a Greek vase and studied it.
“Boone sure likes to read,” Faye said, glancing through the bookshelves. “Not a single romance or mystery.” She pulled a large hardcover off a shelf and held it high. “A Concise History of Roman Tactical Weapons. It’s got to be more than a thousand pages. How many tactical weapons did the Romans have, and why does Boone need to know about it? It looks like he knows everything. He’s got a book about the history of toilets here. I fix toilets for a living, and I don’t know the history of toilets.”
I knew that Boone was smart, but I didn’t know that he knew everything. I put the vase down and picked up a human skull. “This isn’t real, is it? It doesn’t mean anything, right?”
“He’s got all kinds of bones,” she said and let the subject lie there.
Putting the skull down, I sat at Boone’s desk. There wasn’t a computer, and I assumed Boone had taken his with him to Go
odnight. But there were a lot of papers. Scanning through them, I realized they were mostly lecture notes and notes about dinosaurs.
Nothing about being a psychopathic killer.
Faye kneeled down next to me and pried open a desk drawer. “Oh, look. Financials, Matilda. This is good,” she announced, digging official-looking books out of the drawer. She slapped them on the desk, and we opened the first one.
“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” I said. It was filled with columns and rows of numbers.
“Me either. I’m not a numbers woman.”
“Me either.” I had three PhDs, but they were in floral management, bowling industry technology, and leisure studies. So, I basically had no usable skills or knowledge.
We moved the book aside and opened another one. I put my hand over the page. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Isn’t it an invasion of Boone’s privacy?” Faye and I locked eyes again, and we shook our heads at the same time.
The message that passed between us was clear. It didn’t matter if it was an invasion of Boone’s privacy. I was trying to clear his name. That was practically an invitation to invade his privacy!
“Look at this,” Faye said, excitedly. She pointed to an item in one of the ledgers.
“Rust Creek,” I read. “What does that mean?”
“It's a place in Goodnight. Out in the boonies. Rust Creek runs off the river. Am I crazy, or does Boone own property there that we didn't know about?”
Property by the river, where the girls were dumped. Oh no. I was supposed to be clearing his name, but the more I investigated, the guiltier he looked. I closed the ledger.
“What does this mean?” I asked, but Faye was busy looking for more documents. She found a file and slapped it down on the desk.
“Bingo,” she exclaimed. “Property taxes. Holy crap. He's got a crapload of land at Rust Creek. Three hundred acres. That would give him a lot of privacy.”
My stomach roiled at the thought. Privacy to do what? No good, I was guessing with more than a little dread.