Murdered by Prejudice: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Series

by Dianne Harman

  The chime of the mahogany grandfather clock she’d inherited from her mother reminded her that it was early afternoon, and she’d been so busy with spa business and prepping for the evening dinner, she’d not only forgotten to eat, she’d never made it to town to get a few items the spa was running low on.

  “Winston, we need to go to town and while I’m there, I’m going to Gertie’s and have my favorite burger and shake. I need some comfort food about now. I know she’ll have one for you as well,” she said to the big boxer who ran to the door at the sound of Gertie’s name.

  After buying the items she needed for the spa, and as she drove to Gertie’s Diner, which was practically an institution in that part of California, she noticed how tranquil and calm the small town seemed. It didn’t seem to be the type of a town that would harbor a serial killer.

  Trying to find a parking place anywhere near Gertie’s around lunchtime was practically impossible, and today was no exception. She and Winston had to walk three blocks to get to the diner from where she’d finally found a parking spot. As soon as they entered the busy restaurant, Liz was engulfed in a bear hug by an impossibly spry octogenarian followed by a similar bear hug given to Winston.

  “Lawdy, thought you’d forgotten ‘bout ol’ Gertie. Haven’t seen ya’ since we solved that murder case about them strange little voodoo dolls,” Gertie said as she indicated for them to follow her. Some of the diners stared at Winston, but by that alone, Liz knew they were tourists, because all the locals knew that Winston was Gertie’s favorite customer.

  Woe to any health inspector who even insinuated that it was against regulations for dogs, other than seeing-eye dogs, to be allowed into an eating establishment. Truth be told, not one of them would even hint that Gertie keep the dog outside.

  “Anyway, girlfriend, now that we got that voodoo stuff outta’ the way, what’s happenin’ other than we got’s us a serial killer workin’ the area?”

  “What do you know about a serial killer?” Liz asked, surprised that Gertie knew about it.

  “Gimme’ a break. Don’t take no Mensa test to decide that when four people get whacked in the same area in a short period of time, it’s the work of a serial killer. So, what have ya’ found out?”

  Liz took a sip of water from the glass the busboy had set in front of her and said, “Gertie, I just found out a few minutes ago that there was a good chance a serial killer was in the area and that the FBI was going to be investigating it. How did you know?”

  “Honey, tol’ ya’ this before. People come here to talk. I was sorry to hear that Rick got whacked cuz’ his wife is a sweetie. Poor thing. Knew Sylvia a bit. She’d come in now and then for a burger. Nice woman. Never met Red Patterson or Josh Espinoza, but guess they done alright for theirselves, bein’ minorities and all and gettin’ to the top of their perfessions. Kinda’ heartwarmin’, but sure didn’t last long.”

  Something that Gertie had just said resonated with Liz but she couldn’t figure out what it was. I’m having the same problem I had the other night. It’s out there in outer space somewhere, but it’s not coming to me as quickly as it used to, she thought. Guess that’s one of the signs of getting older.

  “Girl, I see one of them busses drivin’ up in front, and I always like to give all them tourists that git offa’ it the glad hand, ya’ know, make ‘em feel wanted. Good for business,” she said with a wink as she stood up. “I’ll turn Winston’s and yer’ order in. Up in a few minutes.”

  Liz had watched Gertie walk more times than she could count, but it was still a mystery to her that a short eighty something year old could wear five-inch stiletto high heels and not fall over in a dead heap, or at least fall over and break something. Gertie was impervious to the looks of amusement she got and also the way so many customers covered their mouths with their hands when she walked by, trying not to grin. In addition to her stilettos, the ever-present pencil was stuck behind her ear and her mouth moved incessantly chewing on a huge wad of bubble gum.

  Not only did people come to watch her totter, or because she was an institution, they came because no one made people feel more welcome than Gertie. Her smile was a mile wide and her hugs never stopped. Liz was pretty sure that while the hamburgers, shakes, and malts were the best for miles around, what was even better was being in Gertie’s sphere, even if only briefly.

  Liz and Roger had often talked about why some restaurants and businesses made it and others didn’t. They’d decided that if every business had a Gertie, it would be bulletproof from failure. Too bad she couldn’t be cloned.

  A young waitress approached Liz’s table and said, “Here are your hamburgers and shakes. Gertie put Winston’s shake in a dish so he could lap it up easily. She said it’s chocolate, but she told me to make it light. She said he’s a big enough dog that he doesn’t have to worry about consuming chocolate and anyway, she doesn’t believe any of that stuff about chocolate being bad for dogs or hamburgers being bad for people. Said she’s lived for over eighty years on hamburgers and shakes and she expects to do another eighty. And to tell you the truth,” she said, “if anyone can do it, Gertie can.”

  “Thanks, on behalf of both of us. Considering how Winston has already eaten half of his burger while we’ve been talking, you can see that he’s one happy dog. And thank Gertie. Tell her we said goodbye. I won’t bother her when we leave, because I see two more busses pulling in, and that’s a lot of business. Definitely don’t want to take her away from it.”

  “I know,” the waitress with the name tag of Jill said. “It’s really gotten crazy in here ever since that tour company put Gertie’s Diner on its places to stop. Of course, she probably is as much an institution as the redwoods and the other places they go, but don’t tell her I said that.”

  “Jill, you’re not the only one who thinks that, and I couldn’t agree more.”

  As soon as they left Gerties’s and got into Liz’s car, Winston immediately fell sound sleep, sated by a double burger and chocolate shake. Liz wished she could join him, but since the cottages were full, she needed to get ready for the dinner to be served to the spa’s guests. Once again, she gave thanks to the Big Man in the sky for sending Gina her way. On nights like tonight, being able to depend on a loyal well-trained employee like Gina was worth whatever salary she was paid.

  CHAPTER 9

  Liz had only taken a few steps into the lodge when her cell phone rang. It was Roger.

  She answered and said, “Hi, sweetheart, and I’m guessing since you’re calling at this time of day, you’re stuck in San Francisco for another night.”

  “You know my schedule too well, Liz. Yes. I’ll tell you why, but first I’d like to hear what’s happening with you and what’s happening in Red Cedar. I checked with my secretary a little while ago and she mentioned something about more murders. Know anything about them?”

  “A little.” She told him about her conversations with Wes and Bart, and that it looked like all four murders had been committed with the same gun. She told him that the word was out about a serial killer being on the loose, and that even Gertie knew about it.

  “Liz, that hardly surprises me. Gertie knows everything. If her diner wasn’t so successful, I’d recommend that she go into law enforcement. She’s amazing.”

  “I agree. What’s beginning to concern Wes and Bart is that a serial killer is apparently responsible for the murders, although from the little anyone knows about the victims, there doesn’t seem to be a nexus, but it certainly is odd.”

  “No, Liz, it’s more than odd. I know some would call it a coincidence but law enforcement people don’t believe in coincidences. However, I have another question. Why were you talking to Wes and Bart about these murders? Other than a woman who was staying in one of your cottages and unfortunately her husband was murdered, you’re not personally involved with any of the other victims, are you?”

  “No, I’m not, but Roger, Seth is doing nothing as usual. The other three murders occurred in the county,
which is the sheriff’s domain. Unfortunately, he was skateboarding with his son and broke his arm and his leg yesterday, and he’s in the hospital and then has to be on bed rest for a while. Since the victims were all federal employees, I was told by Wes that the FBI will be involved.”

  “Liz, answer the question. You are not personally involved, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “But you’re still talking to people about it and trying to find out who did it, right?”

  “Well, not exactly. I just had a couple of thoughts, and I followed up on them.”

  “And what exactly did you think you’d do with these things once you’d followed up on them?”

  “I don’t know. Roger, to change the subject, Wes suggested that I should talk to Bob Salazar and petition the county Board of Supervisors to grant me a waiver from having actual police experience and use the experience I’ve had solving the last few murders in lieu of it. If the waiver was granted to me, I could work in law enforcement. What do you think?”

  “I think I have no clue, number one, why you would want to do that, and number two, what in the devil you’re thinking of doing. Would you care to tell me or are you just going to surprise me?”

  “It would probably be better if we discussed this in person rather than over the phone,” Liz said. “So why are you staying in the city for another night?”

  “I went to law school with a guy by the name of Caleb Randolph. When we graduated, I joined the firm I’m with now, and he took a job with the FBI. We get together for lunch every six months or so. He called me this afternoon and told me he wanted to make an appointment with me and asked if I could meet him in his office at FBI headquarters here in San Francisco.

  “I’m meeting with him tomorrow morning. Didn’t make a lot of sense for me to drive to Red Cedar tonight, drive back to San Francisco in the morning, fight the traffic, then drive back to Red Cedar again. I had my secretary rearrange a couple of my appointments.”

  “I think I remember you mentioning his name. Any idea why he wants to see you?”

  “No, the only thing he told me was that I wasn’t in any trouble, but he needs some help from me.”

  “What could he possibly need your help on? Do you have a client with a problem or something like that?” Liz asked.

  “Not that I can think of. Even though I was solely a criminal defense attorney for the firm before I moved to Red Cedar and expanded the firm’s practice in that area, I never had a case where the FBI was involved, so I have no idea what this is about. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he thinks I know something about the murders that have occurred around Red Cedar.”

  “Sounds interesting. Give me a call after your meeting and let me know. Don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who was involved with the FBI.”

  “I’m not involved with the FBI anymore than you’re involved with the police,” he said and laughed. “Oh Liz, a thought just occurred to me. Please don’t tell me that you’re planning on running for the chief of police position in Red Cedar against Seth. Please tell me that.”

  “Roger, if I’ve learned one thing during the time I’ve been on earth, it’s that you just never know where life is going to take you and, on that note, I have to end this call. We have a full house tonight and it’s getting close to show time. Love you and see you tomorrow,” she said ending the call before he could say anything else.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Good afternoon, Gina. I see you found my notes. I had to run into town and get a few things and while I was there I decided to have a hamburger at Gertie’s.”

  “Can’t blame you. Whenever I’m in the vicinity I have to stop in there, too. I think it might be sacrilegious not to,” she said with a laugh. “By the way, that skillet chicken recipe with sun-dried tomatoes looks awesome. I’ve prepped all of it, so it’s good to go, and I made the applesauce cake.

  “It’s cooling, and I just need to frost it with the cream cheese and honey mixture. The salad’s made, garlic bread’s wrapped in tin foil, ready for the oven, and the rice has been prepped. The cheese and crackers are ready to go, and the wine’s been decanted.”

  “Gina, it’s definitely time for you to get a raise. I’ll tell Bertha to give you a dollar an hour more. You make me look good, and I know in the last year I’ve put a lot on you by not being able to make dinners because I was involved in solving some murder or traveling. I just want to thank you.”

  “Liz, I love working here. You’re the best boss anyone could ever have. You trust me to take over when you have to be gone, and the guests here are wonderful. I think it’s because their treatments are so good at the spa, they just stay in that good mood for dinner. And of course, Brandy Boy is an institution.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that, but he might be right up there with Gertie. The only thing that makes that dog move is when one of the cottage bells rings at night, and a guest wants him to bring them a wee bit of brandy. When that happens, you better stand back and get out of the way of a 160-pound St. Bernard, because he’ll run over anything and everything in his way. Like the French say, it’s his raison d’etre, or reason to be.”

  “Well, since the San Francisco Chronicle wrote that article about him, I don’t think we’ve had more than a couple of days when we haven’t been entirely full here. Kind of nice to get that kind of a boost for your business, and you didn’t even have to pay for it.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. Would you put the wine and crackers out? I need to change clothes and feed the dogs. I don’t want them at the door or underfoot whining for food.”

  “Don’t see that happening. Winston’s too well-behaved, and it would involve Brandy Boy actually getting up and moving from his self-designated permanent place on the porch,” she said with a laugh. “Go, I’ll take care of everything.”

  *****

  The sniper went back to the room he was staying in, showered, and got dressed. Killing always made him hungry. It had been like that when he was in Afghanistan. Some of his unit grumbled that he killed more people than was necessary, but he didn’t agree. Each killing had been necessary. Unfortunately, his commanding officer felt like some of the other men in his unit.

  It really hadn’t mattered, because the voices were speaking to him more and more, and they always told him he was right when he killed. He imagined that they wore caps with the image of an American Eagle on it. After all, real Americans were the only ones who should live. He thought Hitler had been greatly misunderstood. He looked at himself in the mirror. Now that’s what a real American should look like, he thought.

  CHAPTER 11

  Liz spent the following morning taking care of matters concerning the spa and the cottage rentals. She and Bertha, her spa manager, met for an hour discussing spa products, personnel, and services that Bertha thought should be added to the spa menu to keep it competitive with other high-end spas in the area.

  They both felt that the homey touch of group meals kept the spa from being pretentious, but they were very aware that most of their clientele came from the San Francisco area and had probably visited high-end spas there. They met monthly to discuss what was working and what wasn’t. Liz spent time each month going over various spa industry trade magazines to make sure they were keeping up-to-date with the services they offered.

  So far, whatever they were doing was working, since both the spa and the cottages had waiting lists. The evening meals Gina and Liz cooked were limited mainly to the guests, although occasionally the spouse or a friend of one of the guests would be included. As the spa became more popular each year, Liz was glad that their dining space was finite. The big oak table could seat sixteen, but that was max. Twelve to fourteen was far more comfortable.

  She’d just left Bertha’s office when her phone rang. She looked at the screen on her cell phone and saw that it was Roger. “Hi, sweetheart, good timing. I just finished a meeting with Bertha. How was your meeting?”

  “Interesting. Liz, are the cottages fully
booked for the next couple of nights or do you have a vacancy?”

  “I’ll check. Who wants to come here?”

  “My friend, Caleb Randolph, and he’d like to talk to you.”

  Liz walked over to her desk as she continued to talk to Roger. “This is the FBI guy, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “So, is he going to arrest me or something?” she asked with a laugh.

  Roger wasn’t laughing when he answered, “No, but he wants your help.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me an FBI agent wants to stay at the Red Cedar Lodge and talk to me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. Unfortunately, your reputation has preceded you,” he said enigmatically.

  “And you won’t tell me anything more than that, right?”

  “That’s right. Now about that vacancy. Can you put him up?”

  “Not in the cottages. They’re completely full, but he’s welcome to stay in our guest bedroom. Tell him he’ll have his own private bath. When is he coming? Sounds like it’s tonight.”

  “Yes, we’ll both be there after dinner. He’d like to talk to you tonight, but he has a meeting he has to attend here in the city, and he wants me to go with him. We’ll grab something to eat, and I’ll see you about 8:00 tonight.”

  “To say that I’m curious would be the understatement of the year. Can you at least give me a hint?”

  “I don’t know enough to even do that. I’ll know more after the meeting, if that helps.”

  “It doesn’t. Okay, I guess I’ve gotten as much out of you as I’m going to get, so I’ll make sure his room is ready. Anything else I should do or I should know before he gets here?” Liz asked.