Smothered in Onions

by Tracey Quinn

  “I tried them already,” I lied, “but they aren't answering the phone and I really need to get my tire changed so I can get to work. Can't you help me?”

  There was a sigh and a string of muttered profanities on the other end of the line and then, “Okay, okay. Gimme the damn address and I'll get there when I can.”

  I told him where I was stopped and he hung up without saying goodbye. About half an hour later I saw a grimy tow truck turn onto the street and drive slowly up to where I was stopped. The window rolled down and the familiar face of the grizzly bear squinted out at me. Something had changed since the time I had seen him in the Breezy Spoon; had had gotten a hair cut. Of course it was a flat-top. Chalk up one more for Harry Morrison.

  “Are you the lady with the flat tire?” Belcher asked, looking at me as I stood next to my car with the flat tire.

  “That's me. Thanks for coming.”

  He rolled up the window without answering and backed up the tow truck to the front of the Firebird. After a few minutes of working and muttered swearing, everything was hooked up and we were ready to go.

  “McGarity's Garage is just a couple of miles from here,” I said as I climbed into the cab of the truck with the man who might have murdered someone in cold blood. I was beginning to doubt the greatness of my idea now, but it was too late to back out.

  “I know where it is,” Belcher grunted.

  The inside of the truck reeked of tobacco, and as I looked around I saw empty soda cans and crumpled fast food wrappers strewn around the floor mat at my feet, and a blanket and pillow wedged behind the driver's seat. It looked like Belcher had been sleeping in his truck.

  “Thanks again for picking me up,” I said. “My name's Dani.”

  At first it looked like he wouldn't answer, but finally he grunted, “Ray.”

  “Nice hair cut, Ray.”

  “That clown messed it up,” Ray grumbled. “I told him what I wanted but then he gave me this! He said his hand slipped. He's lucky I didn't let my hand slip onto his nose!”

  “I know how you feel. I had my hair styled by Harry Morrison once and I was tempted to punch him, too!”

  Ray shook his head and took a sip from a cup of fast food coffee that had been sitting in the cup holder. That coffee probably had four sugars in it. It was a chilling reminder that I was dealing with a possibly unstable person here. Still, if I wanted to help Gene McGee, I had to plunge ahead.

  “Belcher's an unusual name,” I continued. “The only other person I've heard of with that name was a guy named Troy Belcher who was killed by Lloyd Duval six years ago. Duval only got back from prison a few days ago and now someone else named Belcher comes to town. That's a weird coincidence, huh?”

  Ray glared at me. “You trying to be funny?” he growled.

  “I was just wondering if you were related to Troy Belcher.”

  “So what if I am? That ain't none of your business!”

  “It must have been quite a shock to hear that Lloyd Duval got out of prison early,” I continued. “I would have been pretty angry, if it were me. Did you see him when he came back to town?”

  “What do I need to see that bum for?” Ray snarled. “I got nothing to say to him! I ain't shedding any tears for him now that he's dead, either! If he was your friend, then that's too bad!”

  “Oh no, I wasn't happy to see Lloyd Duval come back to East Spoon Creek City, either; a lot of people weren't. I'm sure whoever killed him felt like they had a good reason.”

  “Like somebody getting revenge for Duval killing his brother, is that it, lady?”

  “That does seem like a strong reason-”

  Suddenly Ray Belcher slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt in the middle of the street. “You wanna run your mouth about me, I'll give you something to talk about!” he roared. “My brother was a no-good drunk, but he had a kid, and when Duval killed him in that fight, who do you think his old lady went to for help paying the bills?! Me, that's who! Here I am raising Troy's kid and you think Lloyd Duval has paid one dime to make up for the spot he put me in?! Him driving around in his fancy car and raking in the money from them lectures, and not one dime! How about that, huh?!”

  “I-”

  Ray didn't wait for me to answer. “What do I care if Duval's dead?! Killing him don't put money in my pocket! All I wanted from him was cash!”

  “So did you go to see him about money on the night he died?” I asked.

  Ray grinned maliciously. “Didn't need to. Like I told you, I had nothing to say to him. There are other ways of getting money out of somebody. Now get out!”

  “What?”

  “Get outta my truck! I ain't gotta listen to your accusations!”

  “But we're still four blocks from McGarity's Garage,” I protested.

  “I guess you'll be driving four blocks on a flat tire to get there,” Ray replied.

  A few minutes later I was driving four blocks on a flat tire to get to McGarity's. I had to go really slowly, which gave me time to think, except for the times when people walking on the sidewalk overtook me and chatted with me as they passed. Ray Belcher had a hot temper for sure, and it wasn't hard to imagine him coming after Lloyd for revenge, although I had to admit that what he had said about being more interested in money than in murder made sense.

  I started to find myself feeling sorry for Ray; sure, he still reminded me of an angry grizzly bear and he had just left me to limp to the garage on a flat tire, but he was taking care of his dead brother's family and that showed that he wasn't all bad. The last six years were probably pretty rough on him and he had good right to be angry at Lloyd, especially when Lloyd wasn't spending any of his money to help the family of the man he killed. I wondered what Ray had meant when he said he could get money out of Lloyd without talking to him? Had he planned to steal something from him, or blackmail him?

  Just then I thought about the bank robbery; if Ray Belcher had walked into the rec center and seen Lloyd getting all that money out of the bank safe.... Let's just say it would have been sorely tempting for Ray to put Lloyd out of commission for good and take the cash for his brother's family. But if he had all that money from the bank, why was he still hanging around East Spoon Creek City and sleeping in his truck? Nobody had connected him to the crime; surely he would have been better off disappearing from town before anyone knew he had been here at the time of the murder.

  Was Ray the one who burned down Lloyd's house and ransacked his hotel room? But why? That was still something that didn't make sense to me. There must be an awfully good reason for someone to risk drawing the attention of the police when they've committed a murder and gotten away with it.

  As I pulled into McGarity's, Mike McGarity was standing in front of the garage and waved to me. “Mornin', darlin'!” he called. “Pull 'er right up to the door and I'll get started. Ya'll really should have come by and let me change that front tire before you got stranded out there. Once the cords start showin' through, it's time to replace 'em.”

  “How did you know about the cord showing on my front tire?” I asked.

  “Mark told me. Just got off the phone with him. He said one of your neighbors called and told him you were in a tow truck and then another neighbor called and said you weren't in the tow truck anymore, so he figured I'd be seeing you soon. Just what's been going on?”

  “Everyone on this street needs to learn to mind they're own business is what's going on. But I guess I did put off getting the tire replaced longer than I should have.”

  “The other one don't look much better,” McGarity replied, squatting down to inspect my other front tire. “I reckon it's close to lettin' go, too. Y'know, you could learn a thing or two from Roger Travers, darlin'.”

  Roger Travers? Aside from learning a heap of lame jokes, it was hard to imagine what Roger could teach me.

  “Now there's a feller that takes care of his car!” McGarity continued. “He keeps that ol' Cadillac purrin' like a kitten. Why, just t'other day he had it in
for a tune-up, and he has me check the fluids and tire pressures just about every time he stops in for gas.”

  “That's true, he does keep that Cadillac of his in good shape,” I replied. “Of course, I'm going to leave my car here while I go to work rather than stand here and talk the whole time you're changing the tires, so Roger could learn something from me, too.”

  McGarity laughed. “You're right about that! I can't say as I always look forward to seein' Roger when he comes around, but I don't mind getting' some of his money, especially after all I wasted on them cooking classes of his.”

  “Cooking classes?”

  “Yeah, last year he was advertisin' all around town for his 'Chef's Gourmet Culinary Academy'. I always wanted to be a little handier around the kitchen, so I paid him thirty bucks to sign up. Why, the 'chef' he had teachin' the class was just Mabel Ferguson from the elementary school cafeteria! She didn't show us nothin' but how to make tater tots and grilled cheese! I'd 'a told Roger to give my money back only he went outta business before I could.”

  “That sounds about right for Roger. He never saw a get-rich-quick scheme he didn't like, but he never gets rich with any of them.”

  “He should have stuck to bein' a steamfitter like his daddy was. He might a' made something of himself if he hadn't quit.”

  “Yes, but I don't think that's the sort of image Roger wants to present to the public at this point.”

  “A little honest labor might do him good, if you ask me. What's he up to now, anyway? Dancin' school, ain't it?”

  “That went out of business, too,” I said. “He's starting his own airport now.”

  “You wouldn't catch me flyin' in any plane of Roger's!” McGarity chuckled.

  “I'm with you on that.”

  I heard the honk of a car horn and turned to see Mark's truck pulling into McGarity's lot. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger-side door and called, “Your chariot awaits, m'lady!”

  “Should I charge the two tires to your usual debit card?” McGarity asked.

  “Yes,” I said reluctantly.

  I got in Mark's truck and we started for the Breezy Spoon. My little go-around with Ray Belcher had given me some information, but it had also cost me a lot of time. The diner would be open by now and Brendan would be in the kitchen by himself with only Kitty to take the orders in the dining room. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call Kitty and let her know I was on my way, but I saw that I had a text message which I had missed. It looked like it had come while I was in Belcher's tow truck and it was from Kitty.

  I opened the message and saw a photo of a dress and a message that read: “Look at the dress Aunt Laurie bought me for my birthday! She said she had to look all over to find a green one that would match my eyes. Isn't it great? We're really going to wow them at the Country Club!”

  “Of all the rotten tricks!” I cried. “Laurie McGee is pure evil!”

  “I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate on that?” Mark asked.

  I held up the phone so he could see the picture of the dress. “Just look at that!” I grumbled.

  Mark looked at the dress, then he looked at my face and looked at the dress again.

  “I think I'm supposed to say something here, but I don't know what it is. Have you got something against green?”

  “Yes, why couldn't Kitty have blue denim eyes?!”

  “Thoughtlessness on her part, I'm sure. I take it you're going medieval over this because you planned to wear jeans to the Country Club and now you think you'll have to wear a dress?”

  “Of course!” I replied. “I'll admit my jeans are a little too tight but they'd do. Now I have to go buy something new!”

  “Let's not give up on the too tight jeans just yet,” Mark said. “I just had a great money saving idea. What would go better with the too tight jeans, than a too tight tee-shirt? You could wear a couple of gold chains, some hoop earrings and-”

  “Sorry to interrupt your stellar fashion advice, but the jeans are out. I can't wear them if Kitty's wearing a dress.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it just isn't done. It wouldn't look right.”

  “I obviously don't know the rules,” Mark said, “but you have that dress that you always wear to dances. Can't you just wear that and save the money? You know you just bought two new tires, right?”

  The dress that I always wear to dances! We had gone to two dances in the past few months and I spent more than I wanted to on two new, very different, dresses. One more and I'd have to audition for Dancing With The Bankrupt. I could visualize my emergency fund melting away like an iceberg in warm water, only in reality it was more like a lump of shaved ice than an iceberg. Mark interrupted my thoughts.

  “Hey, here's a thought: why don't you just stitch up a little something in a nice calico print like women do for a barn dance?” he asked.

  Sometimes very strange things come out of the man's mouth. “Do what?” I asked.

  “I don't know how it all works, but don't you have some sort of calico print cloth stuff that you could sew up?”

  “You read a lot of Little House on the Prairie, do you?”

  “My mom used to read it to my sister. I overheard some of it while I was playing with my toy trucks.”

  “Stick to playing with trucks,” I said.

  By the time I got to the Breezy Spoon the breakfast rush was well under way and I knew Brendan would need help getting the breakfast special ready for the customers, so I hurried straight to the kitchen. The breakfast special was cheesy scrambled egg pizza, home fries, assorted fresh fruit in pineapple yogurt, and caramel pecan breakfast rolls. For the breakfast pizza Brendan would sprinkle a soft pizza dough with Parmesan and garlic powder and bake it at 400 degrees until it was light brown and partially baked. Then he would sprinkle shredded cheese on the pizza crust and top it with scrambled eggs, bacon, and more shredded cheese. Next he baked it for about five more minutes till the cheese was melted, then added sliced tomatoes and chopped scallions. Simple but really good.

  I got started chopping the fresh fruit that went into the pineapple yogurt, which consisted of pineapple, grapes, blueberries, mandarin oranges and bananas. Mark stuck his head in the kitchen door and said, “Hey, Dani, I'm off work this morning so give me a call when your car is ready and I'll drive you down to McGarity's to pick it up.”

  Just then I remembered something I had wanted to do today. “Wait, Mark; if you're not busy I could really use your help,” I said.

  “Sure,” he replied. “Toss me one of those big scary chef's knives and I'll get started. Fruit chopping is my specialty.”

  “No, thanks, I need you to do something else for me.”

  “Foot massage, shoulder massage, full body massage, I'm your man. Actually the full body massage is my specialty.”

  “You seem to have a lot of specialties.”

  “What can I say? I'm multi-talented.”

  “I wanted to ask you to talk to Suze for me.”

  “Sorry, masochism isn't one of my specialties,” he replied. “Why do you want me to talk to Suze anyhow? You can't possibly think that she murdered Lloyd Duval, robbed the bank and hauled him off to McGee's onion pit, because even if you did think that, you promised Bob and yours truly that you wouldn't get involved.”

  “No. I'm certainly not getting involved. It's just that Roger wanted me to pilot his experimental plane for his so-called airlines and fly him and his customers somewhere. When I said I couldn't, Suze mentioned that her brother Baldy flies bush planes in Alaska, and Roger asked her to see if he could do it. I'm glad to get Roger out of my hair, but I'm just curious where he's flying to.”

  “Why can't you ask her?”

  “I have to work here today, and since Lloyd Duval doesn't have any property left in town for anyone to burn down I figured you'd be free.”

  “So what's the deal? You think Roger could have murdered Lloyd? Who's next on your suspect list; Cooter James?”

  “I told you
; I'm just curious! Roger seems like he's in a hurry to leave town, and I wanted to know why.”

  “He probably just wants to get away before his latest scheme blows up in his face and old Zeke Constable sues his pants off. What would that have to do with Lloyd?”

  “Probably nothing, but Roger and Lloyd did go to high school together so maybe they were friends; or perhaps they were enemies and Roger never got over it.”

  “I don't know; I can see how sitting in a classroom with Roger Travers everyday for four years could make Lloyd homicidal, but not the other way around. Besides, what could have gone on back then that would make Roger still want to kill Lloyd all these years later? No, I just don't see it. You might as well forget all about that right now.”

  “It's impressive to see what lengths you're willing to go to just to avoid talking to Suze,” I said.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? Go up to Suze while Pollyanna is dribbling her around the wrestling ring, wait till she regains consciousness and say 'Beg your pardon, old girl, but if you're capable of speech after that battering, would you mind telling me where Baldy is headed to in Roger's deathtrap flying machine?' You don't think that might be a bit awkward?”

  “She only does the wrestling thing for a half hour in the afternoon,” I explained. “The rest of the time she's in charge of a kids booth where they shoot water guns at a target and win prizes. She doesn't get paid for it and I think it's nice of her to volunteer. I mean, she's only been here a few months but still she wants to help out. Can't you just saunter up to the booth and start a casual conversation about something?”

  “Fine, I'll work on my sauntering after breakfast.”

  Chapter 10

  Mike McGarity called just before noon to say that he had replaced the two front tires on the Firebird, and I should think about getting new windshield wipers soon. I told him I would definitely think about that, and I would come over to pick up my car after my shift was over at two. Maybe I would get lucky and it wouldn't rain until my emergency fund got a little healthier.