But the truth of the matter was Piggies served the best pulled pork in a two-hour radius of Lanai. And the ribs tended to sell out before their dinner service. In fact, a paper sign reading as much blocked my view of inside. So when I opened the door, it bumped right into the man standing beside it.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“Hi.” Luke smiled, rubbing his bulky shoulder where the door had hit him.
“Oh… Hi.” My face and neck flushed.
“Are you all right? What were you doing out there? Running?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I was late.”
“That brings a whole new meaning to running late,” he punned. “Didn’t I say I was going to be a few minutes late? I only just got here.”
“Right,” I mumbled, “you did say that.”
“It was cute. Just like you.” He wrapped me awkwardly in a side hug. Like his muscular shoulders, his physique had a firmness to it. “You ready to eat?”
“Sure am.” My stomach growled in anticipation. It was quite possible that I’d forgotten to eat lunch—a common problem when I worked from home.
The atmosphere at Piggies never changed. Pigs, pigs everywhere. I imagined every pig knickknack ever made had found its way somewhere on the walls. We had to order from the counter where the familiar face of Doris Hutchins greeted the two of us with a smile. Her bright pink shirt was adorned with the words “I Kissed a Pig, and I Liked It.”
“Good evenin’, you two. What can I getcha tonight?”
“Let’s see.” Luke studied the menu behind her. “I’ll have the Piggie Platter with coleslaw and corn. And just a water to drink. You?” He gave me a wink.
“A sweet tea and a small Piggie Sandwich, please.”
“Order 210.” Dorris gave us a ticket. Then she disappeared off to the back to put in our order. At a place like this, waitresses never needed to write anything down. We heard her yell the order to the kitchen. She made our drinks, and we got seated, waiting for our order number to be called.
“Why don’t they just let us order at the kitchen?” Luke asked jokingly.
“Right?” I exclaimed. “We could cut out the middle man, or woman.”
Luke sipped his water. His smile hadn’t faltered since the moment I bumped him with the door.
In the meantime, two orders were called. Business was booming for a Tuesday night. Delicious barbecue at the right price was a good recipe for success in any Southern town. Scratch that—in any town.
After the water left his lips, his smile did falter. “Can I ask you a question?”
His tone had changed from joking to almost serious.
“Shoot,” I said, not pointing out that, in fact, he’d just asked me a question.
“I hope it’s not too forward for me to ask something like this. But what’s up with you and the detective?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The way he asked questions to me was kind of, I don’t know—pointed. He came off protective of you.”
“Did he?” I asked. I was more interested than I probably should’ve been.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “Did y'all date or something?”
“No. Never,” I said quickly. “We’re just kind of friends.”
“Kind of friends?” He scrunched his forehead and raised his eyebrows.
“Just friends. I kind of got a little over-involved in one of his investigations a few months ago.”
“O-K,” Luke said slowly. “And he gave you a ride from the hospital?”
“Right.” I nodded. “As friends.” The conversation had taken a turn I didn’t expect. On my end, Javier was nothing more than a little crush. And we’d barely spoken in months. Even calling him a friend seemed like pushing it.
The bell at the counter dinged. “Order 210,” the cook called out. Saved by the bell.
Luke stood up and retrieved our two trays. But what resided on them didn’t quite resemble our orders.
“That’s not what you ordered, is it?” Luke said, eyeing my sandwich.
My small Piggie sandwich had received an upgrade to the Whole Hog sandwich. It was dripping with two times the amount of pork of even the large Piggie version. There was a layer of coleslaw under the top bun and a stack of pickles and jalapeños above the bottom.
“Nope, not even close.” I giggled. “Does your Piggie Platter normally look like that?”
Luke’s eyes grew as he peered down at his platter. There was an extra scoop of pulled pork and a half rack of supposedly sold out ribs. On the side were two mounds of coleslaw and an added bonus of fried pickles.
“No,” he said in shock, “what happened? Do you think we got someone else’s order?”
I shook my head. I looked over to counter where the cook waved and smiled at me. “This is what Kate and I call the five-forks-treatment. You know I do restaurant reviews. Well, sometimes I get recognized.”
“Does this happen often?” Luke wasn’t complaining. His grin grew to match the size of the plate.
I shrugged. “Well, it’s not unusual. I don’t expect it, and I never ask for it. It just happens.”
“That’s amazing! I’ll have to take you out to dinner more often. I mean, if you want to…”
Thank goodness, I thought. All the cool points I lost with Javier had been earned back with a simple meal—and at Piggies, no less.
We ate as much as we could, which for Luke was a lot of food, but we were still both leaving with a Piggie Bag. I weirdly enjoyed watching him attempt to shovel it all in. After a valiant effort, he pushed his tray toward the middle of the table.
“That’s good, but I can’t finish it all.”
“Me either,” I said, starring down at more than half a sandwich left on my plate.
“You barely even tried,” he scoffed, grinning. “After a whole day of hospital food, this was exactly what I needed.”
“A whole day?” I asked him.
“They were overly cautious. I mean, I appreciate it. Don’t get me wrong. But I’m fine. And I’m glad to know what it was. I’ll never look at someone vaping the same way again.”
“I’m guessing you heard about Blake, then?” I asked.
He nodded. “I hope he rots in jail. How messed up is it to kill your own father?”
“Pretty messed up,” I agreed.
“But let’s not talk about that.” Luke reached across the table where I was absentmindedly playing with the paper straw wrapper on the table. He brushed his fingers across my hand. His touch was gentle and soothing. “Tell me more about your blog. What dish are you serving this week?”
We chatted about the chili I’d made. His hand never left mine. Then, hand in hand, we meandered to the parking lot. He escorted me to my car. Like a true gentleman, he opened my door for me.
Before getting in the car, I turned to give him a hug. I only meant for it to be a hug. But he went in for the kiss. There was no denying him that. His face was so cute all puckered up, his eyes already closed.
We shared a few sweet kisses before we finally said goodnight. He gently closed my door and watched me leave before returning to his truck.
Tonight had been a success. Never in a million years would I have thought that a dinner date at Piggies would have me on cloud nine. But there I was anyway.
15
The next morning, I literally sang in the shower. A morning shower in and of itself typically indicated I was starting the day off right, but singing, well, it meant Allie was still high on good date vibrations.
My day was all planned out. First, I would stop by the Java Hutt to meet Kate for coffee. I knew she had ulterior motives, hoping for me to gush about my date with Luke. Since she was the one who’d set us up, she deserved at least a few details.
After coffee, I needed to work out the additions to the article. I thought speaking to Suzi would probably get me where I needed to go since she and George had been family friends.
Then finally, I’d have my usual dinner with Mom. It wasn�
��t actually a planned thing. I’d just started coming over on Wednesdays. And now it was sort of expected. I got in trouble if I didn’t show. Mom liked to cook. I liked to eat. So, that’s what we did. Every Wednesday. Then after dinner, we’d usually watch a movie or a couple of shows on Netflix.
I dried off, cinched the towel around my torso, and started to wash my face when a noise from the front of the house sent cold shivers down my back.
Is someone in my house?
More noises. The sound of footsteps down the hall had me petrified. I slowly reached down and grabbed my phone. Now most people in this situation would probably dial 9-1-1. And that’s probably what I should’ve done. But my instincts went for the first number on my favorites contact list.
I dialed my mom.
A buzzing ringer sounded outside the bathroom door. Then she answered. “Allie? Why are you calling me?”
I sighed in relief at the sound of her double voices, one in my ear, and the other just outside the door.
“I thought I had an intruder,” I admitted, hanging up the phone.
“So you called me?” she asked with a chuckle. I opened the bathroom door. She gave me a skeptical roll of her eyes. Then she brushed the small wisp of graying brown hair out of her face.
“Well, yeah,” I said. “Who else would I call?”
“For starters, that detective friend of yours. Besides, aren’t you the one who always tells me to use my key? And the one time I do, I scare you half to death. From now on, I’m just going to wait for you to let me in.”
“That’s fine.” I admitted defeat. She waited outside my room as I got dressed. “So, why are you here?” I tried to sound as un-putout as was possible. But she was making me late for coffee.
“I wanted to hear about your date,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“I’ll tell you about it tonight.” I put on my coat. “Promise.”
“I hate when you’re all secretive. You know Lynda and Vince were at Piggies last night. They saw you two kiss.”
“It was just a kiss,” I lied. “I hardly know the guy.” That part was true. But Mom knew me better than that. I wasn’t one to just kiss a guy. My feelings for Luke were turning into more than I thought they would when Kate had set us up.
“Just warn me before you get engaged. Who am I going to eat Chunky Monkey with on Valentines?”
“There’s still time for you to find someone,” I told her. “Besides, I may need a pint before then.”
“Don’t say that.” She squeezed my arm tight. “You’re going to find the right guy. I just know you will.”
The comforting warmth of The Java Hutt greeted me like a hug. I was eager to shake off my mother’s words. After her failed marriage with my father, I knew she blamed herself for my dating habits—or the lack thereof. But the truth of the matter was I hadn’t really been trying to find someone—let alone, the one—in years. I was happy with my status quo.
Or at least I was until recently.
Kate’s eyes bored into her phone at a table catty-corner to the entrance. She didn’t look up to see me. That was typical. But I did a double-take when I got up to the counter. It wasn’t my friend, Gertie, womanning the bar.
“Hi,” a doe-eyed brunette smiled uncertainly at me from the register, “what would you like?” She was young, college-aged at most. Unlike the other baristas, she had no piercings and no visible tattoos. Her name tag read, Tenley.
I doubted her abilities at making coffee just by looking at her. But then again, I knew not to judge a book by its cover—its very young, only made three or four caramel macchiatos in her life, cover.
“I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso.”
“Sure thing,” she said, fumbling on the tablet to find the right order of buttons. This did not bode well. It was already a little bit of a buzzkill before I got my buzz of caffeine.
“What’s the name for the order?” she asked.
“Allie,” I said, noticing she wrote it on the cup with an “ey”—like I was a narrow passage between buildings.
“All right, Allie.” In my head, I heard Alley. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
I flopped down in the seat across from Kate, feeling exasperated. She shot me a coy smile. “What do you think of the new girl?”
“I’m afraid,” I whispered. “Unless her coffee is good, I don’t see her lasting a week.”
Kate took a sip of her coffee, her face showing zero expression. She shrugged playfully at me. She wanted me to find out the hard way.
“Allie,” Tenley called in a cheery voice.
It looked like Java Hutt coffee, in a to-go mug. She hadn’t asked if I was staying or leaving. It smelled like my usual coffee, earthy and sweet. A new coffee girl made me nervous. It was like a new menu or a new chef at a favorite restaurant, only a little worse—those kinds of things can be exciting. I took an anxious sip.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Kate watched my expression carefully. “Pretty good, huh?”
“Better than expected,” I confessed.
“Kind of like your date last night?” It was a question and a statement. Kate knew me too well.
I told her about my and Luke’s evening at Piggies, about how I’d slugged Luke with the door rushing inside, and how we’d gotten the five-forks-treatment. And then I told her about the kiss at the end of the night.
“How was it?”
“Smoky with hints of barbecue sauce.”
She chuckled. “Speaking of smoky, I’m headed over to the e-cigarette shop on Broad Street after this. You’re welcome to tag along.”
“Really?” I asked. “What for?”
“Just to ask a few questions,” she said. “When the police found the nicotine in Blake’s car, he went berserk, yelling, pleading, saying he’d never seen it before. You know, the usual. But I still want to follow up. Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Just in case he didn’t do it.” Kate shrugged.
“Do you think he did it?” I asked her.
“Probably,” she admitted. “But we were all there. I just don’t see how he did it. I want to dot my i’s and cross my t’s. You understand.”
I nodded. Kate checked the time on her phone. “Let’s get going. I mean, you did get a to-go cup, after all.” She winked.
When we reached the door, it opened, and Javier let us out, smiling despite standing out in the cold an extra few seconds. “Morning, ladies,” he said. “You two look like you’re up to no good.”
Could he just sense it? Maybe that’s what made him such a good detective, his ability to read people.
“Just a little work,” Kate answered. She buttoned her coat against the slight breeze that had sent my teeth chattering.
“Stay out of trouble,” he called to us as the door shut behind him.
“We will,” Kate and I said in unison. But he couldn’t hear us as we giggled, walking swiftly down the street. I could feel the wind rubbing harshly on my cheeks. It was a cold and dry day.
“I almost think we should drive.” Kate pointed to her Mercedes. Then she pointed to the shop only a couple of blocks away from where Main Street and Broad Street intersected.
“I almost think you’re right,” I said. But we braved the cold anyway.
A few minutes later, we entered the e-cigarette shop shivering. The store was brightly lit and practically sterile. Smells competed like in the perfume section of a department store. Except here, it was the smell of different candies with an off-putting smell of cigar smoke. There was a humidified room with a large display of the rolled tobacco. This place had once been known as Adam’s Cigar Shop, and I guessed it still technically was. It was just the outside signage that had changed with the influx of the new fad of tobacco-free products.
From a back room came a youngish man with a neck beard. His hair was in a man bun “How can I help you, ladies?”
Judging by his slightly raised eye brows, we
weren’t his typical customers.
“Hi, I’m Kate McAllister.” Kate offered him her hand to shake. “And this is my friend, Allie.”
“Right,” he said slowly. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Channel four, right? You do the weather?”
“I’m a reporter,” Kate said.
“Cool. I’m Adam.”
“Like, the Adam?” I said, referencing the name of the old cigar shop.
“Well, not from like Genesis or anything. I guess you mean my dad. He owned the shop before he retired to Florida.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Kate asked him.
“No problem. Will I be on the news?” Adam asked, intrigued.
“Maybe,” Kate said. “Depends on if there’s anything worthwhile to say. I don’t have my crew with me now. But I think you might be able to help me out.”
“Okay, then shoot.”
Kate pulled out her cell phone. With a couple of taps of the screen, she found a picture of Blake Wilson. Then she held the photo up for Adam to see. “Is this man a customer of yours?”
Adam squinted down at the photo, and he thought for a long minute. “Maybe,” he said. “He does look familiar. Honestly, I don’t keep up with everyone that comes in here. Just my usuals. And he isn’t one of them.”
“Oh, okay.” Kate sounded defeated. “And you’re sure you don’t just recognize him from his face being on the news last night?”
“Could be, I guess.” He shrugged. “I mean, if I’m flipping through the channels, and I see a hot blonde like yourself, I’m going to stop there, aren’t I?”
Kate smirked. “Thanks for your help.”
I bit my lip, thinking of another way to approach this. Then I pulled my own phone from my peacoat’s pocket. I found some pictures taken at the Murder Mystery Dinner Party.
“What about her?” I showed him a picture of Suzi and George at the party.
A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2) Page 7
