Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1)

by Patricia Lee Macomber

  “Nothing…just…I’m checking email,” she snapped back.

  Rachel rushed to open the facial recognition software, typed in her access code. Truth be told, the software was supposed to be Rick’s. The access code had been created when she had first hacked the database. Such was life for a lady with more skills than patience.

  The software came up empty after only a few minutes and Rachel sighed dolefully. Dropping it into the image search engine was useless as well, since it produced a score of men who looked similar to Mike but were not, indeed, Mike.

  “Gotcha!” Rick yelled from over her shoulder.

  Rachel screamed and banged her knee hard on the desk. “Blast you, Rick! Don’t do that to me!”

  “What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to feed the cats. I have the wine all open and poured and you’re still sitting here…doing what?”

  “I wanted to check today’s video from the surveillance cameras. I thought I might find a useable picture for the cops.”

  “And did you?” He put two hands on the back of the chair and rested his chin on her head.

  “Watch this.”

  She played the video for him, slowed down the part which featured the three men. When the man raised his hand in the sign, Rachel paused.

  “There! See that?”

  “What is that? Some sort of gang sign or something?”

  “No. It’s American Sign Language for ‘I love you.’”

  “I’ll be darned. And he looked up at the camera, just like he knew it would be there.”

  “Ah, ever the expert detective, darling. Now check this out.” She clicked open the image software, showing him the two pictures. “The one on the left is from the security video. The right one is Mike…Diane’s boyfriend. I found his picture on her page.”

  Rick whistled through his teeth. “I think we may have a problem.”

  Rachel nodded and saved her work. “We might.”

  Rick took her hand and led her to the sofa. When she resisted, he pulled her down beside him.

  “But I still have to feed the cats,” she objected.

  “I already fed them.” He took note of the awe in her expression and smiled. “I figured that whatever you were doing out here was important, so I just took care of it.”

  “I love you, husband.” She planted a good, warm kiss on his lips and nuzzled his bristly cheek.

  “As well you should.” He winked at her then, his smile slowly fading. “So, do you trust Diane?”

  “I did…right up until I found out that her ex is a bank robber.” She frowned at that, her eyes getting that faraway look in them.

  “Let’s postulate for a moment. Suppose she’s in on it. Showing her the video would tell her that we’re onto her. She might bolt and we’d never catch the others.”

  “Or maybe she doesn’t know a thing about it. Follow this for a moment. Maybe Mike robbed the bank under duress. Maybe he dumped Diane off so she wouldn’t be involved or get hurt. But he knew she would be inside that diner. He knew that the camera was there. That’s why he made that sign. He wanted her to know that he still loved her and he would come back for her.”

  “Or maybe he wanted her to know that he still loved her and would come back for her because she was in on it.”

  Rachel thought for a moment. “Do you think we should show her the video? I mean, if she’s guilty, she’ll bolt just like you said. And if she’s innocent, it’ll just make her sad.”

  Rick drew her close, hugging her shoulders and rubbing her arm as her head sunk to his hard chest. “It’s not up to you to decide whether she should be sad or not. But what if we did this: What if we showed her the video, but didn’t let on that we knew it was Mike. If she pops right up and says that it’s Mike, then we know she isn’t part of it.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we can be pretty sure that she’s guilty of something. Maybe just protecting Mike.”

  Rachel sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hate this.”

  “You know what I hate? Having a great movie on the DVR and not watching it.” He reached for the wine glass as Rachel sat up. Once it was safely in her hand and she had taken a sip, he pulled her feet into his lap and began rubbing them gently.

  Rachel clicked on the TV and started the movie. The wine was good. Her husband was the best. And To Have and Have Not was her favorite old movie. The sofa, the wine and the movie devoured her and she let the problems all slip away.

  When Rick and Rachel arrived at the diner the next morning, Diane was already there, marrying ketchup bottles and rolling silverware into tight napkin cocoons. Rachel walked straight to the counter and set down her laptop bag, tossing a smile Diane’s way.

  “You’re here awfully early, Diane. A real go-getter, eh?”

  Rick slipped into the kitchen and began preparing the meatloaves. He had mixed the meat the night before, but he would need to bake them all before the lunch rush arrived. “Where’s Macy and Logan?” he called through the little window.

  “I haven’t seen them yet this morning. Are they generally here by now?” She waited for a beat, then added, “I wasn’t sure what time we opened, so I came in as soon as I woke up.”

  “They’re usually here not long after we are,” Rachel explained. The bell tinkled against the door just then and she spun on her stool. “There you guys are!”

  “Wow! You act like we slept in or something,” Logan laughed.

  “Before we get started, I want you all to see something.” Rachel opened her laptop and turned it on. “Rick has already seen this but I want your opinions too.”

  “Okay, whatcha got, girl?” Macy dropped onto the next stool and let her body slop onto the counter.

  “So, I accessed the surveillance video from the cameras out front. And I found some darn good footage of the bank robbers. I was hoping I would recognize the one without the mask, but no dice.”

  Diane strode to stand behind Rachel, peering over her shoulder. Logan stood to her right, towering above the smaller women.

  Rachel moved the play bar to where the men first came around the corner, then let it play out in slower motion. She paused when the camera was tight in on Mike’s face.

  Behind her, Diane gasped, her hands flitting to cover her mouth and beginning to shake. “Oh my God!” Her voice was deep and terrorized. “That’s Mike. My Mike.” Tears began to gather in her eyes.

  Everyone turned to look at her at once, but Rachel was the first to recover. “Your Mike? The boyfriend who dumped you yesterday went straight down the street and robbed a bank?”

  “I…I don’t even know how…how could he have…?”

  Suddenly, Rachel felt sorry for her. She put one reassuring hand on the girl’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Then I think you need to see this.”

  Rachel played the video again, pausing it when she came to the part where Mike made the sign.

  Diane burst into tears then, the river running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Her breath hitched and gulped and she swiped at the tears, trying not to lose it too horribly. “Oh, Mike,” she whispered. “Why?”

  “Is there any part of the other two that you recognize?” Rachel replayed the video slowly. “The clothes maybe? The eyes?”

  Diane leaned in close and squinted. “Sorry. Nothing.”

  “Okay, honey. No matter.” Rachel sighed and sat back.

  “What does this mean?” Diane asked. “I mean, that was our sign. We used it at parties when we were across the room from each other and couldn’t really yell. But it was like he was looking right into my eyes when he did it.”

  “The fact that he did it,” Rick interjected from the kitchen, “means that he knew you would either be here to see it, or you would see it later on the video.”

  “How could he have known that?” Diane wanted to know.

  “I dunno.” Again Rick disappeared behind his mountain of meatloaf pans.

  “Maybe he did it unde
r duress. You know, he was forced to do it. Maybe he dumped you to keep you safe. There are all kinds of unanswered questions here.”

  Diane moved to a nearby stool and sat down hard. “Too many. I mean, why did he just dump me like that? Right across the street. And why did he rob that bank? And why did he make that sign – our sign – right in front of the camera? It’s like I never even knew him at all.”

  Rachel’s head snapped around at that, her brows crushed together, her lips a thin line. “Maybe you didn’t.” She paused, thinking. Then, “Did you ever see his driver’s license?”

  “Sure. It was right inside his wallet and he got carded a few nights ago buying some wine.”

  “No, I mean, have you ever held it and read it?”

  Diane opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again. “No, I never did.”

  “How about his car registration? Did you ever see that?”

  “What are you thinking?” Rick asked.

  Rachel waved him away, waited for an answer from Diane.

  “I never saw the registration. No.”

  “How about a bank statement? An IRS form? Anything with his name on it?”

  Diane shook her head.

  Rachel turned back to the computer, her face taut, her eyes unblinking. She tapped a few keys, then leaned over the counter to rummage around in her bag. When she sat down again, her face was blissful.

  “What are you doing?” Rick asked her. His tone was dry, deep, without affection.

  “I need to get into the IFSS. They’ll have pictures that the net doesn’t have.” Already she had inserted two memory sticks, typed a few keystrokes, and switched sticks again. Her eyes were bright and shining. She was in a state of near euphoria.

  “No!” Rick shouted, heading out through the kitchen door and straight for Rachel. “No, no, no you don’t!”

  She was still typing, her fingers flying over the keys, data streaming over the monitor of her laptop. By the time Rick reached her, it was too late. She was in.

  “Thirty-five seconds. I have thirty-five seconds before they notice the breach.” She typed even as she spoke. The picture went into the system, her fingers blurred over the keys. “Gotcha!”

  The screen lit up red then and the computer began a mad sort of beeping sound. Rachel actually screamed, her hand flying out to disengage the memory sticks and shut the thing down.

  “Dammit, Rach!”

  She spared a nervous glance at him, then sighed. She slammed the laptop closed and leaned back against the seat. “They would have had to trace me over eleven server bounces in eleven countries. That would take them at least forty-five seconds. I was only in for twenty-one. They couldn’t have made me.”

  Rick was fairly shaking. “I told you. Never again.”

  “I know,” she responded softly, her eyes finally meeting his.

  Everything in the diner had frozen. The only sound was the light traffic outside and the steam escaping from the dishwasher. No one dared move.

  Without another word, Rachel slid from the stool, the laptop scooped up and tucked under her arm. She hurried into the back room, her head down, walking fast.

  Another few moments passed, then Diane asked, “What just happened?”

  Rick looked at her. He blinked. “Something she promised would never happen again.” He turned and left then, preferring the company of his pots and pans to that of his friends.

  “Rachel obsesses. She can’t stand unanswered questions.” Macy swallowed and flashed a grim smile at Diane. “She also has hacker super powers. She just tried to hack into the Image Forensic Search System to find a picture of Mike.”

  Rachel passed behind them like a ghost. “I didn’t just try to hack into it. I totally hacked into it.”

  “She’s done it before?” Diane asked in the same tone one might use to refer to an addict.

  Macy nodded solemnly.

  “I hate to interrupt this hen party,” Rick called to them. “But I have to point out that we’re running a restaurant here. And it’s time to open. And it’s meatloaf day.”

  “I’ll put the chalkboard sign out,” Rachel said, busying herself and trying to make amends for breaking her promise to Rick.

  “Don’t worry,” Macy said to Diane. “It won’t get bad until lunch time. Just ease into it with breakfast, okay?”

  Diane nodded. Her mind was still stuck on Mike’s face from the video and on Rachel’s attempt to solve the mystery.

  She wasn’t sure which frightened her more.

  Chapter 3

  The breakfast crowd had been thin, though Rachel supposed that was mostly due to the fact that people were saving their appetites for lunch time and meatloaf. Diane had shadowed Macy and learned all she could from her. Macy was ever-cheerful, ever-helpful, and fast on her feet. In the end, Diane decided that if she were to become half the waitress that Macy was, she could be proud of the accomplishment.

  Tensions ran high for the first two hours of the day as Rick and Rachel moved about the restaurant without so much as a glance at each other. Whatever argument was to come, it would build throughout the day. The ensuing explosion would be massive and, hopefully, private.

  At eleven-thirty, the time when the menu changed from breakfast to lunch, four parties entered the diner at the same time. Macy and Diane seated them, handing out menus and smiles as they scurried about. Diane still possessed an awkwardness born from insecurity, but she showed great promise, according to Macy.

  By noon, there was only one booth left open, plus three stools at the counter. All three women were hustling as hard as they could and empty meatloaf pans were piling up in the sink. Rick whistled while he worked, a smile dimpling his cheeks.

  They were down to a single empty counter stool by the time Sheriff Dooley walked through the door. He was on his phone at the time; Rachel was wiping the counter down. She flipped open a menu and was about to stick it into his hand when the larger-than-life lawman waved her off.

  “Yea, get him down to the morgue ASAP and get Dillon out there. Call me if anything turns up.” He ended the call and thrust the phone into his breast pocket. “Just bring me the meatloaf, darlin’. Side of green beans and potatoes. Lotsa gravy, too. And keep that Joe coming.”

  Rachel smiled, nodded, scribbled the order on her pad. “Bad day, Sheriff?”

  “Hells yea!” He slapped one beefy hand on the counter and frowned. “We got us a homicide. Can you believe that? Little ol’ Laurel Falls has its first ever homicide.”

  “No!” Rachel exclaimed, her jaw dropping of its own free will and closing only by Herculean effort. “Who? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

  “Horace of all people. The caretaker down at the cemetery.”

  Rachel filled a cup and slid it into place in front of Dooley. “Why in the world would anyone want to kill poor Horace? He was the gentlest man in the world.”

  “That’s what I said,” Dooley bellowed, throwing his hands in the air in a display of incredulity.

  “So, the cemetery again,” Rachel said softly, her eyes darting to the door, where two more parties had gathered to wait for free tables.

  “Whatcha mean, again?”

  The bell behind Rachel made that familiar ding sound and she turned to retrieve the order. “Well,” she began as she slipped the plate across the counter, “I hear there’s been some disturbances in the cemetery as of late.”

  Dooley eyed her suspiciously, one eye half-closed. In the end, his watering mouth drew his attention and he picked up his fork. “Minor stuff. Prob’ly not connected to this.”

  “I’m being nosey again. I don’t want to overstep,” she said, stepping back and holding up her hands. “You flag me down if you need anything else, okay?”

  He saluted her with a full mouth and an empty fork.

  Rachel scooted off to tend to her other customers. She saw Diane juggling empty plates and Macy clearing a full table. The well-oiled machine was running at top speed and they still couldn’t clea
r customers fast enough to seat everyone waiting.

  It was going to be a long evening.

  “At long last. Come to Papa!” Rick pulled the last meatloaf in all of existence out of the oven and placed it on the counter for carving. He placed a fat slab of meatloaf on each plate, then plopped a generous portion of mashed potatoes next to it and slathered on the gravy. As an afterthought, he added some green beans and then stood back to admire his work. “Come and get it, folks.”

  The other four rushed the kitchen window, grabbing plates as they slid onto the pass-through. Lined up in the usual order, they dug in, their faces sporting smiles of bliss and their eyes nearly rolling back in their heads.

  “So, this is what all the excitement is about,” Diane sighed. “I have to say, your meatloaf has not been over-hyped. This is amazing.”

  “I know, right?” Logan chuckled but never stopped shoveling food into his face.

  They ate until not a scrap remained, then swiped up the gravy with slices of fresh bread. Plates were pushed away, buttons unbuttoned. Exhaustion and fullness took over.

  “Man! You outdid yourself this time, buddy.” Logan slapped Rick on the back with one hand. The other reached for his glass of tea.

  Silenced rained down, crowded the room. They felt happy, comfortable, satisfied.

  “So, what’s the only sure way to identify somebody,” Rachel asked suddenly, to no one in particular and everyone in general.

  All eyes turned toward her. In Rick’s she saw a rebirth of the anger she had witnessed that morning. She cringed at the pain of it, but pressed on.

  “There has to be a way. I mean…”

  “DNA or fingerprints,” Rick said softly. “But only if the person is in CODIS already.”

  Rachel nodded thoughtfully and pulled a face. “I’ve heard you say it a hundred times. The gear shift knob and steering wheel are the two best places to pull prints from.”

  Rick turned to glare at her, his jaw set, his eyes staring daggers through her. “So, a little B & E for dessert?”

  Rachel swallowed hard but never let her eyes leave his. “Just lift a few prints and away we go.”