by Maddie Day
At least one of them had manners, even if they did include calling me ma’am. Ron held up his mug without speaking. Couldn’t he at least ask nicely if he wanted coffee?
The third guy, a skinny redhead with bad acne, shook his head but kept his eyes on the phone in his hands. “Large OJ for me, please.”
“Looks like you guys were up all night,” I said lightly. They smelled ripe, too, the scent of greasy hair and shirts worn too many days in a row wafting up as they pulled off hats and jackets.
The polite one nodded. “That’s right, ma’am.”
Somehow from him the ma’am didn’t bother me. Ron fixed his eyes on his own phone.
All righty, then. “The Specials board is over there.” I pointed, poured two coffees, and headed to pour the orange juice. I passed Danna. Ron was such a contrast to her. Both were nineteen, both locals. The similarity stopped there.
She rolled her eyes. “Gamers.” She stirred the grits with a bit of extra force.
They must have been playing games all night. Maude had mentioned that was all Ron did. I went back to take the gamers’ orders.
After Ron asked for the grits bake, he finally glanced up at me. “Hey, that soup you brought was sick. Thanks. Mom liked it, too.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “So I hear you’re into ice fishing. How’s it been this winter?”
The redhead snorted but didn’t say anything.
“Not bad. I like to get out on the lake and clear my head once in a while.”
“Never catch much, though, do you?” the pasty-faced one said.
“Caught a murderer. That’s better than any stinking fish.” Ron sat back looking satisfied.
“What?” I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I saw that girl out there, that student of my dad’s. She must have already done him by time I saw her. She was coming right from the spot where they found him. Where you found him, right?” He blinked at me.
“I found your father’s body, yes.”
Ron had to be lying. Lou had said she was nowhere near where we found Charles.
Ron tapped the table with one dirty-nailed finger. “It’s only a matter of time before they arrest her.”
“Hmm.” As if. I clamped my jaw shut and nearly bit my tongue trying to keep from saying more.
“Stilton here’s always trying to get us to go ice fishing with him,” the redhead said. “But if people are getting knocked off on the ice, you’re not going to catch me out there. No disrespect to your dad, dude,” he added quickly.
“Hey, he didn’t respect me,” Ron said with a bit more bravado than I would have expected. “Doesn’t worry me none.”
What had happened to his grief of two days ago? Maybe he thought he needed to put on a guy act in front of his friends, display a measure of teenage machismo.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll get those orders in.” I turned toward the grill. When I heard a snicker, I looked back over my shoulder, but it wasn’t aimed at me. The three were all looking at one of the phones, pointing and sharing something funny.
Chapter 30
As often happened, Danna and I had a lull in business at around eleven. We took the chance to use the facilities, sit down, and eat. I made us a big omelet and carried it on two plates with biscuits and bacon to the table where she sat.
After I’d eaten a few bites, I put my fork down. “What’s up with Ron and his friends?”
“That’s all they do, play video games. It’s way disgusting. They don’t even wash half the time.”
“I picked up a hint of that,” I said.
“They’re losers. They were like that in high school, and they have parents who support them in their dweebhood. Not my idea of a good time, or dudes worth knowing.”
“Ron said he saw Lou on the ice that morning coming from the spot where I found Charles. That’s got to be a lie. She said she was out on the ice alone but wasn’t anywhere near that part of the lake.”
“Just ignore him. Probably wants attention.”
The bell jangled and we both turned our heads to see Buck amble in with a newspaper tucked under his arm. Danna started to stand, but I waved her down.
“I’ll get it. Have a seat, Buck. Breakfast or lunch?” I asked, standing.
“Breakfast, please,” he said, looking hopeful as he sat. He spread out the Brown County Democrat on the table.
I ladled out an order of pancake batter, added four slices of bacon, and set up a plate of biscuits. “Over easy?” I called to him.
When he gave me a thumbs up, I carefully cracked two eggs on the grill.
“So how’s it going, ladies?” he asked.
“Not bad,” Danna said. “Gainfully employed doing what I love. Could be worse. I could be a worthless gamer dude.” She raised one eyebrow, the light glinting off the tiny gold ring piercing it.
Buck nodded knowingly. “The Stilton boy and his friends been in?”
I flipped Buck’s pancakes and called over, “How’d you know?”
“Town this size, how could I not know? They’re pretty harmless, anyway, far’s I can tell.”
I took him the coffeepot and poured, then hurried back to slide the cakes, eggs, and bacon onto a plate. I ladled meat gravy on the biscuits and served up a portion of grits, then carried it all to the table.
Buck beamed at the mountain of food. “I don’t rightly know what we did without you, Robbie, before you gone and open’d up your store. This here’s perfection.”
Danna laughed and stood. “I bet you ate a lot more donuts back then.” She headed for the sink.
A dribble of gravy hit Buck’s uniform sweater. He dabbed at it with a napkin but kept on shoveling in his breakfast. As he chewed, he pointed at the paper. “Interestin’.” He swallowed. “Some reporter is dredging up a few old stories. Like this here one. Girl killed herself couple three decades ago. Reporter says it might coulda been murder, not suicide.”
“Really? Do they say why they think that?”
“Nope. Article’s pretty short on specifics, as a matter of fact.”
“Do you remember that death?” I asked.
He squinted through one eye for a moment. “Nah. I was over in Bloomington in college then. Didn’t know the girl, anyhoo.”
“I wanted to tell you something I learned about the current death.” I told him what Ron said about Lou. “He’s lying, Buck. Lou said she wasn’t anywhere near that section of the lake.”
“His word against hers.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it.
“But that’s outrageous! He’s a kid without a job, apparently. Lou is on her way to earning a doctorate.”
“And since when did gettin’ some learning govern whether folks ’re capable of murder?”
I opened my mouth, shut it, and stood. “I need to start lunch prep.”
“Hey now, don’t be gettin’ your feelings hurt, Robbie. Like as not Ms. Perlman is perfectly innocent. But speaking of not innocent, I got your message. I come by to eat but also to fetch that scrap of material from the tunnel. You got time to show me where it was?”
I glanced at the clock. “I guess, if we move fast. Let me put the soup on to start heating first. Okay with you, Danna? I need to show Buck something in the . . . in the barn.” I hadn’t told her about the tunnel and didn’t want to get into it right now. I grabbed my gloves and slid into a coat.
“Go for it. If anybody comes in, I’ll just pretend I’m the head chef.” She grinned and twirled, then bowed, one hand in front of her waist, the other in back. “Chef de Cuisine, at your service.”
Chapter 31
Buck and I were halfway to the barn when his phone buzzed. He paused and answered it, then disconnected. “Sorry, Robbie, I gotta go. I’ll try to get back this afternoon to get that scrap of fabric. It don’t seem that urgent.”
Maybe it’s not urgent to you, I thought. “All right. It’s not going anywhere.” I watched as he ambled a bit faster than usual down the drive toward the street. Som
ething else was apparently more urgent. What?
I turned to go into the service door on the side of the store building when I stopped short and whipped my head toward the barn door. Something didn’t look right. I strode toward it. And swore.
The quarter-inch-thick metal shackle of the padlock had been sawed through near where it entered the body of the lock. Its hook hung from the staple on the door frame as if taunting me, while the hasp lay open and empty on the door. The ice in my bones didn’t come from the chilly wind, nor did the goose bumps on my scalp. I reached out to touch the lock with my gloved hand, but pulled my hand back before I did. This was more than sneaky teenagers exploring a tunnel or even an intruder predating my purchasing the store. That shackle was thick. It must have taken a special saw to cut it. And not a little planning.
Someone wanted very much to get into my building. What was so important in my building that somebody would do this? They had to know I would see that the barn had been broken into.
“Get a grip, Jordan,” I told myself. “Call it in.” I patted my pockets. No phone. I’d thought I was coming out here with Buck, and my phone sat on the desk in the restaurant.
I slid the door open a couple of feet and peered into the shadowy space. With the gunmetal sky outside, little light made its way in through the high windows, but I thought everything looked like I’d left it. Except . . . on the rough wooden floor a couple of yards in sat a piece of paper folded in half and propped up like a tent, as if whoever left it wanted it noticed.
That paper definitely hadn’t been there when I’d locked up yesterday. I pushed the door wide open, glanced behind me to make sure no one was lurking there, and stepped in far enough to snatch the paper, then hurried back out before opening it.
In typed capital letters it read: BETTER LAY OFF ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE MURDER. YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO BE NEXT.
I brought my other hand to my mouth with a sudden intake of breath. Charles’s killer was my tunnel intruder. Or someone close to that person. I needed to get Buck, and quick. Better yet, Detective Octavia Slade. I stared at the note, reading it over and over. The words filled the page, in what had to be nearly a sixty-point font.
A sound rustled in the woods to the side of the barn. I stood frozen in place. Who was there? The person who’d left the threat? The murderer? My heart started a stampede-paced beat. I didn’t know whether to dash for the store or chase down the noisemaker. I glanced back at the store. It seemed a hundred miles away. If whoever had left the note was still around, running across open space would be a very bad idea. Even standing there I had a target painted on my chest.
A squirrel jumped onto a branch of a black walnut tree with a rustle. It scampered to the tree trunk. I patted my chest. Not an intruder. Not a murderer waiting with a gun. Just a squirrel. But maybe my threatener had gone back through the tunnel and was waiting at the top of the ladder.
I slid the barn door shut. Not that it would keep anyone out, of course, but it would prevent snow from getting in, if we got more. I’d been so busy I hadn’t checked the forecast. Speaking of snow, I looked more carefully at the area in front of the door. It was the end of a gravel drive that curved around the store from the street and led to where I stood, making the entrance to the barn hidden from the street. I didn’t see any evidence of a vehicle. No wheel ruts or tire tracks in the snow. Unfortunately, Buck and I had walked there, and I’d made tracks again, so I doubted the police were going to be able to figure out from footprint impressions who’d cut my lock.
I was leaving that up to the authorities. I took the note and hurried to the store. I glanced behind me before I pulled open the service door, feeling like I was in a horror movie with a killer stalking me on my own property.
Chapter 32
Before I took off my gloves inside, I stashed the note in a gallon plastic bag, my hands shaking as I sealed it, then slid it into my desk drawer. I stood there for a moment in the warmth of the store, with its smells of grilled meat and rosemary, trying to get my emotions under control about the cut lock and the note. This space, my restaurant, was supposed to be a refuge, a welcoming public place, but it was at odds with the threat I’d found.
Once again, there was a way for a person with bad intentions to get into my personal space as well as my public space without me knowing it. This was very bad news. I thought hard about when the lock could have been cut and the note deposited. I hadn’t checked the barn door when I returned from seeing Georgia, when I’d left for Abe’s, or when I’d come home last night. It could have been cut any time I was out of the house yesterday. Or overnight. Or even this morning. I’d trusted a small device to make me safe. Big mistake.
Danna shot a whistle in my direction as the cowbell jangled. It was noon, and the restaurant was filling up for lunch, with more customers waiting at the door. Murder was certainly good for business, but I’d much rather have brought these people in for reasons other than that. I shook off those thoughts. I had more pressing issues. I needed to call in the note. I had to help Danna. Both at the same time, which was a physical impossibility.
I glanced at her and back at my phone on the desk. “One second,” I called to her. I got a dirty look in return, but turned my back and pressed Octavia’s number.
“Yes?” was her curt greeting.
“I’d locked my barn last night but a minute ago I found that the padlock is cut. And I discovered a threatening note inside the barn.” I rushed on even though I could hear my nervousness. “The note told me to back off asking questions about the murder. Said I could be next.” I kept my voice down and my back turned to the increasing noise level behind me.
I could almost hear Octavia perk up. “Secure the note. Stay indoors. Is your restaurant open?”
“Of course. And it’s busy.”
“Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be over as soon as we can.”
“Can you hurry? There’s an underground tunnel that leads to my second floor. Ask Buck about it. Somebody could be upstairs right now.”
“We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
“Okay.” I frowned. “But maybe come in quietly? I don’t want to alarm my customers.” I disconnected then hurried over to wash my hands and apron up. I looked at Danna. “I’m sorry, Danna. Tell you later.”
She gave me a really? look. “These two orders are ready for the small table in the corner.” All business, she pointed at two loaded burger plates. “Then you need to write the soup on the Specials menu.”
“Got it. Do we still have grits?”
“Not much, but some.”
I delivered the burger plates to two women about my age wearing work clothes. Construction work, not bank work. Both wore ruddy faces like they worked outdoors.
“Thanks,” the one with dark hair in a ponytail said. “Any news on the murder front? I heard you found the body.” She cocked her head, eyes bright. Obviously I was as eager for news as the next person, but I was getting tired of people assuming I knew all. Or could talk about it if I did.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. What was the use? I shook my head and headed to the Specials board. I printed SULLO SCIO under the grits item, then added TUSCAN CHICKPEA SOUP by way of explanation. If I’d used vegetable stock I could have added VEGETARIAN, but I’d made it with chicken stock, which tasted a lot better in my opinion.
As I headed for the next party waiting to order, the message on the note blared in my brain. You could be next.
Chapter 33
Instead of slipping in without calling notice to themselves, the police arrived twenty minutes later with sirens blaring. I gaped as chaos unfolded. Buck and Wanda rushed in, leaving the cowbell on the door clanging the news of their entrance. They drew their weapons and clattered up the stairs to the second floor. From the front window, I saw state police pour out of two cruisers and run for the barn. The buzz of conversation and clinking silverware quieted in the restaurant as people stared. One trim-looking man with a military-style haircut leapt to his fe
et, but the woman he was with convinced him to sit again.
Danna stood up straight from the grill and faced me, alarm on her face, a spatula in one hand. She lifted both hands in a what’s going on? gesture. I’d never gotten a chance to fill her in on the tunnel, the note, or my fears.
Octavia walked in the front door and beckoned to me. I held up my hand. “One second.” I turned to the full restaurant, plus the three ladies perusing the cookware section and the four gentlemen standing in a clump waiting for an open table. “Folks, you can relax,” I said in a voice that would reach everyone. “The authorities are just acting out of an abundance of caution.” I hoped that was the right phrase. “They’re checking on a tip we received. You’re all fine and safe. Isn’t that right, Detective Slade?” I smiled at her, but flared my nostrils and tried to shoot a few daggers from my eyes.
“Exactly right, Ms. Jordan. Ladies and gentlemen, please continue with your meals.”
Whew. For a minute I’d thought she was going to ask me to clear the place—which would have definitely been bad for business.
I faced her. “What’s up with the sirens and everything?” I kept my voice low, but my tone was challenging.
“Sorry, Robbie,” she said softly. “Things got out of control. It’s been quiet in here since you called? No noises from upstairs? You stayed down here inside?”
“No noises. We’ve been super busy and still are. So yes, I’ve been in here.”
“I’m heading to the barn. I’ll text you when we need you.”
“Wait. I’ll give you the note.”
She nodded and followed me to the desk, where I’d stashed the plastic bag.
I handed it to her. “I had gloves on when I touched it.”
“Good.”
“You can go out by the service door.” I pointed to the door in the left side of the building beyond the kitchen area and watched her slide out the door.
The food’s ready bell sounded. Danna looked even more annoyed than before.
