Coffee & Crime

by Anita Rodgers

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  Zelda stopped at the first diner she saw - a tiny establishment apparently famous for its pancakes and waffles. Clearly the word hadn't gotten out because there were only three customers in the place.

  We grabbed a booth by the front windows to keep an eye on our surveillance detail. While Joe plowed through a plate of waffles, eggs, grits and sausage — with a side of biscuits and gravy, we drank coffee. The bonk on the head and eight stitches hadn't affected his appetite at all. According to Joe, his injury required a second helping of

  grits and biscuits because that mighty load of pain and suffering burned up a powerful lot of calories.

  While Joe power-ate, we briefed him on what he’d missed.

  Joe pushed his plate away and grinned. "Ladies, if y’all ever get out of the food business you'd make a couple of fine detectives. Some real potential there." He chuckled. "Except you gotta learn how to blend in more. Stay off the cop's radar."

  Zelda glanced out to the parking lot. "Bastards probably broke my window too."

  Joe rolled his eyes. "Cops don't need to go around busting up your windows to scare you — they got the power of the law on their side. Why mess around with windows when they can lock you up?"

  "Then it had to be VW guy."

  Joe cocked an ear. "Come again?"

  I told Joe about our two brief encounters with the unknown VW driver.

  He scratched at his chin stubble. "I'd say VW guy has more potential as the perpetrator. For the window and my fancy new stitches."

  "The cops could've done that too."

  "Oh pish. Cops would just get a warrant, tear up the place and haul it all away. Whilst we sat and watched." Joe wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. "Question is, who's this VW guy? Problem is it could be anybody whose business you've been nosing into."

  "Like who, the killer?" Zelda chuckled.

  Joe took a loud sip of coffee. "What do you think?"

  Zelda came out of her seat. "This isn't funny!"

  Joe eyed Zelda over his coffee cup. "Need I remind you that I'm the one with the stitches in my skull? I know it ain't funny. But you two don't seem to understand this ain't a game we're playing here. Your friend was murdered. And whoever did it knows we're poking around in it.” He let that sink in. "And for all we know, he took our evidence with him."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We got Joe settled in at home and made it to the diner just in time for the lunch rush. Halfway through lunch a storm hit and the rain pounded the roof for the rest of the afternoon. Zelda cursed about how rain was filling the inside of her jeep because she had no window. But Manny wouldn’t let her run home to even throw a tarp over it because the storm drove customers into the diner non-stop. We ran our tails off all day and by three were desperate to get out of there. But the downpour flooded Debbie's street, and she couldn't make it in to relieve us, so we got stuck there until closing.

  Around eight, the storm slowed to a drizzle and the diner emptied. I slumped against the cash register. "I don't know if I can make it until ten." I stared out at the street where drivers zoomed by as though it was just another sunny day in southern California.

  Zelda sat at the counter with her head on her arms. "Quiet, people trying to sleep here."

  I yawned so hard that my jaw popped, then poured myself another cup of coffee. On my way back to my seat, I whacked Zelda on the back of her head with my checkbook. "Wake up! I'm not working this shift alone."

  Zelda raised her head and glared. "Try that again and you're dead meat." She squinted at the pass-through. "Where's Manny?"

  I waved a hand at the kitchen. "In the back, on the phone."

  Zelda dragged herself to her feet, grabbed a tray, and started collecting salt and pepper shakers. "Talking trash with one of his chicas?"

  I grabbed the salt and pepper buckets and set them on the counter. "I don't think it's a chica." Zelda brought the tray with the shakers back to the counter and set it down next to the buckets. I unscrewed the salt shaker caps. "When I knocked, he locked the door and told me to go away."

  Zelda filled the salt shakers and handed them to me to wipe down and re-screw the caps. "The other buyer then."

  I pouted. "Probably."

  Zelda started on the pepper shakers. "You can't let it bother you."

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at Lily, who rushed for the entrance. She threw the door open and rushed to the counter. "Scotti! Are you okay?"

  Zelda groaned. "A perfect end to a perfect day." She rolled her eyes at Lily. "Don't we look okay?"

  Lily peeled off her expensive raincoat and tossed it on a seat at the counter like it was a thrift store rag. Her dark eyes intent on me and only me.

  I reared back. "Stop looking at me like that, Lily. You're freaking me out."

  Manny came out front, spotted Lily, and looked away. He walked straight to the cash drawer, grabbed some twenties and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Zelda stared at Lily suspiciously. "Why does he keep looking at you like that?"

  Lily blotted the rain from her face with a napkin. "I heard you and a friend were in the hospital." She looked so concerned it was scary. "Are you sure you're all right? I was worried something terrible had happened to you and Zelda."

  Zelda smirked. "Yeah, sure you were."

  But unlike Zelda I didn't feel snarky, instead my radar went up. "Lily, what are you talking about?"

  Her gaze never faltered. "Your friend was attacked and you were in the hospital. Isn't that right?"

  I lowered my voice and asked, "Where’d you hear that?"

  Zelda leaned in too. "Yeah Lily?"

  Lily itched her nose and blushed. "I could really use a cup of coffee. It's freezing out there." I poured her a cup and prodded her with my eyebrows. Lily poured cream in her coffee and chuckled. "Well, obviously I got the wrong information because here you are and you're fine."

  Zelda slapped the counter. "Information? Are you spying on us?"

  Lily's hand flew to her chest. "No. I called here last night looking for Scotti, and the person who answered the phone told me she was in the hospital with a friend because she was attacked."

  I looked at Zelda and shook my head. "Damn Debbie."

  Zelda eased back into her seat. "How can she be such a good waitress and such a ditz at the same time?" Zelda grabbed the tray of salt and pepper shakers and carried them out to the floor to put them back on the tables.

  Lily furrowed her brow. "Who's Debbie?"

  "Another waitress who works here. She must've gotten mixed up on the details."

  Lily sipped her coffee then said, "So you weren't in the hospital?"

  I didn't want to explain myself to Lily. And I didn't want her to know my business, but after her big display of concern I had to tell her something. I shook my head. "A friend of ours was hurt and we took him to the hospital."

  Lily's face filled with concern. "Is he going to be okay?"

  I nodded. "Eventually."

  All of Lily’s concern disappeared and she turned to the pastry case. "Well, after all that panic for nothing, I need some sugar. Do you have any brownies?"

  I stuttered. "Brownies?"

  Lily smiled. "Yeah, you’ve heard of brownies right? Didn't you make some special ones for George? I'd love to try one."

  Zelda looked up from her salt and pepper shakers and frowned. I looked back to Lily. "No, we don't have any of those." I went to the pastry case and pulled out a chocolate chip muffin, put it on a plate and brought it to her. "This will have to do."

  Lily seemed just as happy with the muffin and pulled off a small piece. "Looks yummy." She popped it into her mouth. "Oh, so good. Did you make this?"

  I nodded. "Guilty."

  Lily took another bite. "Well, they're fabulous. No wonder George was such a fan." She pushed the plate aside and leaned her elbows on the counter. "So, what happened to your friend? How was he hurt?"

  "He hurt his head but he'll be fine. Not to worry."

  Zelda bro
ught the empty tray back to the counter and sat next to Lily. "Why did you call? Last night?"

  Confused, Lily glanced at Zelda. "What?"

  Zelda stared her. "You said you called here last night, looking for Scotti. So I'm asking why?"

  Lily cleared her throat and twirled a lock of hair with her finger. "To invite her to see a movie or just hang out." She shrugged. "I was bored and felt like some company."

  Zelda smirked. "You called here because you wanted to hang out with Scotti?" She got to her feet. "Sure you did, Lily." She walked back to the kitchen. "My ass."

  Lily called after Zelda. "I did. I don't have many friends here. Actually, I don't have any friends here." She turned to me. "I was climbing the walls and needed to get out of

  there. You understand, don't you?"

  I nodded. "Sure, I understand." But that didn't mean I believed her.

  Lily sighed and reached for her raincoat. "Thank God it was just a big mistake and you're okay." She put on her raincoat and smoothed back her hair. "Anyway, it was good seeing you again." She looked at the kitchen pass-through just as Zelda ducked out of sight. "And you too, Zelda." Not wanting to prolong the conversation, I walked Lily to the door. She squeezed my hand. "If you need anything, call me. I really mean that. Or even if you want to go to a movie. That would be fun, wouldn't it?"

  I sketched a little wave. "Good night Lily."

  I watched through the window as Lily got into her little red sports car, waved and drove off. Zelda came out of the kitchen and watched Lily with me. "What's her deal? What does she want from you?"

  I shook my head and frowned. "I'm afraid she wants to be my friend."

  Zelda cackled. "Yeah that’s a scary thought."

  I hip-bumped her and went back to the counter. "She's no competition for you, if that’s what you’re worried about." I sat on a stool and picked at the muffin that Lily barely touched. "Not even close."

  Zelda plopped down next to me. "I don't trust that chick." She grabbed a big hunk of muffin and popped it into her mouth. "I mean, who leaves a whole muffin like that?"

  I pulled off a piece of muffin and popped it into my mouth. "I don't trust anyone — except you and Joe."

  Zelda cocked her head. "Not even Ted?"

  I jerked back and scoffed. "Ted? Did you forget that he broke up with me?"

  Zelda scrunched up her face. "Technically, I think you broke up with him."

  I pushed the muffin away then stepped behind the counter for a cup of coffee. "And why are you bringing up Ted anyway?" I dumped a half pitcher of cream into my coffee cup. "You know I don't want to talk about him."

  Zelda popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth and chewed slowly. "I don't know. Just wondering."

  Glaring at her, I put my hand on my hip. "Damn it Zee, have you been talking to him?"

  Zelda jutted her chin. "No! I've just been thinking about what he said about getting hurt." She held out her arms. "And Joe did get hurt. You have to admit Ted called that one."

  I squinted at her. "I don't have to admit anything."

  She gave me a hopeful look. "Scotti, come on. He's good guy. And he really likes you. And I know you really like him."

  I shook my head and put up my hands. "No! I don't want to talk about this, Zee. Not with you or anybody."

  Zelda sighed. "He'd come back if you called him. I know he would."

  I jabbed my finger at her. "I'm not kidding Zee, zip it!"

  She got out of her seat and said, "Okay then, you just think about it." She headed for the kitchen, walking backwards. "Okay, Scotti? Think about it."

  What Zelda didn't know is that I'd never stopped thinking about Ted.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I lay in my bed trying to think of a reason to get up. It was ten-thirty and I still hadn't convinced myself that facing a new day was worth it. Zelda had gotten up hours earlier, and when she knocked, I pretended to be asleep. She finally gave up waiting and went off to Joe's alone. I should've been over there, helping them clean up the mess, but the guilt wasn't enough to make me throw back the covers and stumble into the shower.

  I needed time to think. Alone time. The clock ran out in two and half weeks, and I was no closer to getting the money I needed to buy the diner. All the sneaking around and scheming and plotting had gotten me nowhere and exacted a hefty price — Ted, my peace of mind, and my hope for the future. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept through the night. Or the last time I got in my car without checking for a tail. I stumbled through my days either confused or pissed off — who was I?

  But lying in bed would change nothing, so I threw back the covers and crawled out. I showered and dressed, fully intending to get in my car and drive to Joe's. Instead I grabbed Boomer and went for a drive.

  The sunny winter day boasted a clear blue sky, and though it was too cold, I drove with the sunroof open. Zelda makes fun of my Camry because it's not pretty and can't go really fast, but it's a comfortable ride and tools around just fine on city streets. Boomer loved it too and stood with his head out the back window — nose sniffing and ears flapping.

  We wandered locally for a while, sputtering down surface streets and main drags. Eventually we graduated to freeways and became one with the road. Hair flying and classic rock blaring on the radio did a lot for my morale and managed to turn off my non-stop thinking. I'd been so obsessed with getting the diner and having things my way that I thought of nothing else. Was that who I wanted to be? The woman who'd give up everything to get what she wanted?

  My cell buzzed continually but I ignored it. I didn't need to look at the phone to know it was Zelda wondering where the hell I was. But the thought of going to Joe's and facing them made me gasp for air. So I drove. I just drove. We drove through Burbank. Then North Hollywood. Then to Glendale.

  My heart danced in my chest as I approached Ted's shop. My mouth went dry, and I gripped the steering wheel like I was bracing to run a red light. But I drove right past — checking in the rearview mirror for a glimpse of him. Since he didn't have his desk in the parking lot, there was no glimpse to get.

  I continued up Pacific for a few blocks and turned around. All the while telling myself that I should stop and talk to Ted. He might still be mad, but he might also be happy to see me. Whether I was too chicken or had too much pride, I just couldn't stop on the second pass-by either. And when the guy behind me laid on his horn because I was driving ten miles an hour, I hit the accelerator without looking back. I turned up Glenoaks but as I approached the college, I took Mountain to get on the freeway. Instead of heading home, I drove to Pasadena. I felt like I was on a treasure hunt with no clues — just intuition guiding me. And then I was on George's street, heading for his house.

  I parked on a side street, leashed up Boomer and got out of the car. We stood on the corner of Del Mar and Orange Grove for five minutes while I ran through a list of reasons to ring Maggie Manston's doorbell. Since I was struck with nothing brilliant, I opted for the direct approach. For weeks I'd avoided confronting the woman, and it

  had gotten me nowhere. Was it possible that explaining the situation and asking her to honor George's agreement would work? I didn't know. But it was a hell of a lot easier than trying to solve a murder — and definitely less dangerous. Too many people had already gotten hurt because I'd been to proud to just ask a simple question. It was time to stop being an idiot and act like a grown-up.

  "Okay Booms, we're going in." Sucking in a deep breath and patting down my hair, I marched toward the Manston house. My boot heels clicked with confidence as I strode toward my goal. I’d worked so hard to avoid confronting Maggie that I was twisted in knots. But now that I strode toward that confrontation, the knots loosened and I felt free.

  The buzz of steady traffic on Orange Grove seemed to egg me on, but my head jerked at the sound of a familiar rumble. I quickened my pace then stopped at the sight of Manny’s red Trans Am backing slowly down Maggie's driveway.

  Stock-still and staring I
said, "Manny?"

  Manny didn't see me because he was watching traffic for an opening. I could've screamed my head off to get his attention, but the Cuban salsa thumping inside the car made everything else white noise. He hit the gas, and I ran toward the rumbling muscle car screaming at him. But my legs were no match for the Trans Am, and he shot out onto Orange Grove and sped toward Colorado before I could get near him. "You son of a bitch!"

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  I slammed through the door and the stack of papers in Joe's hands shot up into the air, then fluttered to the floor. "Dag nabbit Scotti!" He bent over to pick up the papers. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"