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

by Patricia Lee Macomber

  “Good morning, diner denizens,” Dooley sighed, easing onto the nearest stool and slouching toward the counter.

  “Been working on that one for a while, Sheriff?” Logan chuckled.

  “Most of the morning. Yea. Say, could I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ve got this,” Diane offered with a pat on Rachel’s back. She stepped behind the counter and poured a generous mug of coffee, then slid it in front of Dooley.

  “Much obliged, ma’am.” Dooley took a long draw on the coffee, his eyes nearly closing with the relief of it. “Nice and fresh.”

  “So, Sheriff, what have you learned? About the men in the cemetery, I mean.” Rachel eased down two stools, coming to rest right next to Dooley and turning to face him. “Did you get any prints? What about the tags?” She had come to life again.

  “Actually, the tags on those trucks were stolen. They came up as registered to the phone company out in Elizabeth City. And those trucks were reported stolen about five years back, from a farm down south of here. They were finally listed as demolished so that the owner didn’t have to keep paying taxes and insurance on them.”

  “Well, that’s not helpful,” Rachel growled. “What about prints?”

  “No prints. There was a stray half-print here and there, but for the most part, I think they were wearing gloves.”

  “Your men checked that mausoleum inside and out, right? Looking for hidden rooms and escape hatches and such?”

  “They did.”

  “And what did they find?”

  “Nada. Zip. Zilch. There ain’t a thing in the world weird about that mausoleum.”

  Rachel scowled at him. “There has to be something, you just haven’t found it yet.”

  Dooley cocked one eyebrow at Rachel and leaned in until his nose almost touched hers. “Are you saying my men don’t know how to do their jobs, little lady? Cuz if you are…”

  “I’m not saying that at all. All I’m saying is that all those men didn’t just walk into that mausoleum and disappear into thin air.”

  “Maybe it’s an interdimensional portal,” Logan offered. All heads turned at once to look askance at Logan. He stared at each of them in turn, then continued. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot we don’t know about physics. Could be that such places exist. You never know.”

  They continued to stare for many more long seconds, then collectively shook their heads.

  “You have any problem with me poking around the mausoleum a bit, Sheriff?” Rachel asked.

  “Over here!” Rick whistled through his teeth. “Your husband? He has a problem with it.”

  “Only for a few minutes. Only in broad daylight.” Rachel looked hopefully at Dooley.

  “All right. But only during the daytime. Never after dark. And I ain’t getting between you and your husband. You two work that out between you.”

  “Did you ever find anything about the photo we identified?” Rachel asked, hoping to delay Rick’s input.

  “Matter of fact, one of my men is bringing him back from Raleigh right now. We’ll question him and see what’s what. Should I call you if we learn anything? Or would you like to be there for the interrogation?” Dooley smirked at her, his eyes full of good humor and a touch of derision.

  Rachel pulled a sour face and chuffed. “Just let me know if you find anything.”

  “Yup. I will do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down under my desk and take a nap.” He tipped his hat to Rachel and smiled. “You have a good one now, y’hear.”

  She watched him go, her mind spinning all over again. His men had inspected the mausoleum at night, in the dark. But she would have a chance to go over it in the light of day. She tracked the Sheriff’s slow progress with her eyes, watching through the windows until he rounded the corner, headed back to the station. Then she slid off the stool and dashed for the coat rack.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Rick wanted to know.

  “I’m going to go check out that mausoleum.” Her face was alight with joy.

  “Oh no you’re not!” Rick growled, shaking a spatula at her and frowning. “You stay away from that place. Besides, we’ve got breakfast rush going here.”

  “The girls can handle it. Can’t you, girls?”

  Diane and Macy looked at each other, then at Rick. They nodded silently.

  “See? It’s all good. Be back in a flash.”

  “No! Rachel don’t you walk out that door!” Rick was rounding the doorway then, bound for the half-open door and Rachel’s arm. “I do not want you going down there all alone, be it day or night.”

  “Then come with me, darling.” She put on her sweetest face and watched as her charms failed her.

  “I can’t go. What part of breakfast rush don’t you understand?”

  Rachel stepped aside to let a customer walk through the door, then sidestepped Rick. “Logan can come with me. I might need muscle anyway.”

  Rick stammered for a second, wondering if he should be insulted. In the end, he decided that Rachel never chose her words carefully enough and so had not meant to insult his manhood. “All right. You and Logan. But I want both of you back here in time for the lunch rush or I’ll fire you both.”

  Something in the kitchen hit the floor and Rachel looked past Rick to see Logan’s shocked face. “Come on, pal. We’re off on an adventure.” There were several giddy schoolgirl toe-bounces thrown in for good measure, then she grabbed Logan’s coat and held it out for him.

  “It’s a good thing you two are my best friends. Otherwise, I’d go find some sane people to work for.” Logan snatched his coat from Rachel and struggled into it.

  “I love you, darling,” Rachel offered sweetly, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him.

  Rick glared down at her from his nine-inch height advantage, refusing to yield. “I love you, too, nut job. Logan, do not let her get hurt.”

  Logan saluted and edged toward the door. “You can count on me.”

  And then they were out the door and away.

  Chapter 8

  Logan drove the truck, Rachel riding side saddle. Halfway there, she looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye, smirking as she said it. “Do you really believe in portals to other dimensions?”

  Logan glanced at her quickly, then returned his eyes to the business at hand. “Not really. I mean, it’s an interesting theory, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.”

  “And remember that once upon a time, having the collected knowledge of the world on a computer was a theory.”

  She nodded briefly, smiled, and said no more.

  Logan guided the truck into the cemetery and drove at a respectful speed toward the back. He kept the truck well back from the mausoleum, so as not to disturb anything that might remain of the evidence. He climbed out and stretched, took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air.

  “So, what’s your theory here?”

  Rachel jumped down from the truck, letting out a soft puff of breath as her feet hit the ground. “No theory, really. They went in. They disappeared. I want to know how.” She made for the mausoleum at a brisk pace, side-stepping the truck tracks left behind from last night.

  “Hey there, Rach. You let me go in first. Just in case…you know.”

  “Okay, okay.” She threw up her hands in surrender and stopped walking.

  Logan puffed up his chest and steeled himself against whatever he might find inside. One hand on the door, the other at the ready, he jerked open the door and leaped in. When he stepped back out, he was deflated, a shadow of his former warrior self.

  “All clear, m’lady.”

  Rachel was jazzed. Electricity raced across her skin and her mouth went suddenly dry. Finally, she was going to get a look at what was inside that mausoleum, good or bad. “Here goes nothing,” she said, checking Logan’s face one last time before stepping inside.

  Tentatively, Rachel stepped inside the tomb. The air was stale and every inch of the crypt was c
overed in dust, but it was nothing like she expected. In the center of the tomb stood a large platform of granite upon which rested a gray coffin. Rachel assumed this was the first member of the family to die, the original patriarch. On each side wall was a series of racks upon which rested bodies in various stages of decay. The most recent had been there for a long while, since there was nothing left of the clothing or flesh, only a set of bones waiting to become dust. The back wall contained niches for urns, the burned remains of those who were not so fond of going into the ground or rotting in the open air.

  Her eyes took it all in quickly, secretly searching for something that might give away the mausoleum’s secrets. She stood in the doorway and studied the floor. There was a scurry of footprints in the floor’s thick dust. They went this way and that, completely without rhyme or reason.

  “None of these footprints points to any single destination. I can’t tell if they ran to the back wall or just circled the coffin. And I don’t see any scrape marks where anything was moved recently. No disturbed dust, no shapes to indicate items taken.”

  She stepped to the back wall and examined the urns, picking up each one in turn and then putting it straight back where it was. She ran her hands over the wall, slapped at it, looking for uneven mortar or signs of movement. Then she paced off the interior dimensions, stepping quickly outside to pace off the exterior dimensions. Once she measured the thickness of the stone and did the math, she realized that all the numbers added up perfectly.

  “I don’t get it,” she sighed, hands on her hips as she stared at the ceiling of the old crypt. “Everything adds up. There are no levers. No doors. No hatches or ladders.”

  She paced around then, her feet slapping the stone floor, the sound of it echoing back from the stone walls. The noise gave her an idea, and she began jumping up and down on the floor, listening to the sound of her foot strikes.

  “Well, if there’s anything here, I can’t find it. Any ideas?”

  Logan raised his eyebrows into question marks and grinned. “Multi-dimensional portal?”

  She threw up her hands at that. “Fat lot of help you are.” She bit into her lip and stared at the coffin. “Dead men tell no tales, right? I guess we’d better get back.”

  Logan followed her out of the mausoleum, then pushed the door shut after them.

  Rachel was quiet as she climbed into the truck and said nothing all the way back to the diner. It wasn’t until she had climbed out of the truck and shut the door that she spoke to Logan.

  “Thanks for going with me, Logan. I know you probably think I’m crazy…”

  “Nah.” He smiled boyishly and waved the thought away.

  “And you’re probably right. But I appreciate the backup.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, the only sort of familiarity he would allow himself. “I’ve always got your six, you know that. No matter how crazy things get.”

  Her face lit up and she turned toward him, her cheeks dimpled and her eyes bright. “I really do appreciate it.”

  He pulled the door open and held it for her, ever an officer and a gentleman.

  Inside, the first lunch customers had begun to gather. They didn’t usually come that early, except on chili day, but Rachel figured it was Friday, so people wanted to hurry through the entire day and its doings. Diane was in the back with a party of four and Rachel realized with a smile that the girl had become a full-fledged waitress in her own right. She was smart and congenial and hard work didn’t scare her. She would go far in life, Rachel mused.

  Among the customers at the counter was Sheriff Dooley. He turned on his stool when the door opened and targeted Rachel with his steely eyes. There was no humor in his face, or conviviality. It was hard and dark and serious.

  “Just the woman I’ve been waiting to see,” he said darkly, his voice low. “Could I have a word with you somewhere…private?”

  Rachel checked his face, felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was up, something Dooley didn’t want the rest of the town overhearing. Good or bad, Rachel was desperate to know what that something was.

  “Sure. We can go out back.”

  He slid off the stool and let her lead, his size twelve work shoes scuffing the floor. The man was tired and rightly so and the stress of it all had left shadows beneath his eyes.

  Rachel pulled open the door and stepped out into the light which filtered through the old oak. She stepped a few feet across the gravel and stood waiting, her arms folded over her chest and her face appropriately serious.

  “You find anything out at the mausoleum just now?”

  “Not a thing.” She sighed dolefully and shook her head. “I touched and moved and poked every urn, every stone, every inch of that place.”

  “Sorry to hear that. And I’m even more sorry to say this.” He looked down at his feet, put his hands in his pockets. Rachel hadn’t thought it possible but when he looked up, his face was even darker, more fierce. “You’re gonna have to stay away from this from now on.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, aside from the obvious safety issues, there are numerous reasons.”

  “Give me one.”

  “Because I said so.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she sneered at him. “You sound like my mother.”

  “Look, Rachel, I like you. You’re a smart lady and you’ve got a good nose. Heck, you were probably a cop in a previous life. But you can’t play at this anymore. You’ve got to leave it go.”

  Now she felt hurt rather than insulted. “Did I step on some toes? Overstep our friendship? What?”

  “I can’t tell you why, but you have to stay out of this. It’s important that you stay out of this. Heck, we’ve shared a lot of dances over the years and more often than not, you’re right on the money about things. But this time, you’re in over your head. You’re in over my head. I can’t protect you if you get into this any deeper. In fact, I’ve got orders to arrest you and put you in protective custody if you stick your nose in it again.”

  Rachel straightened her back, let her arms hang. “You got orders from somebody over your head. A superior.” She watched his face and body language for signs of faulty deception. “Maybe this somebody is involved in the case. Maybe even could be implicated if the case is solved.” Still, she watched his reactions. “No, not that. A superior. Somebody higher up than you. The mayor? No. Another agency.”

  Dooley swallowed and his hands worked in his pockets.

  “That’s it. Somebody from another agency came to you and told you to stay out of it. They’ve been watching and they want us to leave it alone. FBI? CIA?”

  “Rachel, I told you. I can’t tell you who or why or how. But you have to leave this alone.”

  “It’s the SBI isn’t it? Or ATF?”

  “I can’t say.” He shook his head and took his hands out of his pockets.

  “Okay. All right. I don’t want you to get in trouble and I don’t want to end up in jail. I’ll do what you said and keep my nose out of it. But let me ask you just one question: What about Horace’s murder? Don’t you want to find who did it and put them away?”

  “Rachel, nobody wants that more than I do. And I can tell you one thing: The circumstances surrounding Horace’s murder will become clear in time and the person responsible will pay. Just not now. And we don’t have any control over that.”

  Rachel sighed loudly and cocked one hip off to the side. “So we have to just sit idly by and wait for some unknown powers that be to solve all this?”

  “We do.” Dooley took one step toward her and for reasons she couldn’t explain, Rachel suddenly felt threatened. “And I promise you, that if I catch you mucking around in all this, I will slap a pair of cuffs on you and throw you in a cell. Am I making myself clear?”

  She listened to the deep, menacing tone of his voice, stared into his steel-set face. A shiver ran up her spine. “Okay. You have my word. I won’t go to the cemetery again. I won’t get involved in this in any
way. I’m out.”

  “Good.” Dooley turned and made ready to go inside. As an afterthought, he held the door for Rachel, who passed quickly inside without another word.

  She took up her apron and pad and set to work, all the while watching Dooley’s progress toward the front door. She had given her word and she would keep it but just now, she needed the sheriff out of her sight.

  From the kitchen, Rick watched her watch Dooley, curious as to what the sheriff had said to his wife that he couldn’t hear. She was strangely silent now, twitchy though, with a tension about her that he had never seen before. He couldn’t leave the kitchen now, but as soon as he could, he would be all over her until she told him every word that Dooley had said.

  Rachel finally exhaled once Dooley had left the diner. She was angry at him and a little scared, which was something she wasn’t used to. She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  The last of the lunch customers left precisely at two and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Instead of a steady trickle, the customers had come in two giant waves, stressing out the staff and overfilling the waiting area. Finally alone, Rick put together plates for everyone and Rachel transported them to the counter.

  In what had become a break-time ritual, Rick drew himself a tall soda and slid it in front of his plate. He managed to drain half the glass before coming up for air, then turned to his sullen wife and smiled.

  “So, are you going to tell me what Dooley wanted, or do I have to tickle it out of you?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she glanced around to make sure they were alone. “He wanted to tell me to keep out of it. The case, I mean. He says I have to stay out of it or he’ll lock me up.”

  Rick pulled a face and shook his head. “Why the sudden change?”

  “Apparently, it comes from on high.” Rachel took a bite of her salad and grimaced. “These green peppers are a little bitter. Did we change suppliers?”

  “No. It just happens sometimes.” He studied her face for a moment longer, then peered down his nose at her. “And are you going to stay out of it?”

  “I am. I promised him I would and I will. Apparently, somebody came to see him and gave him orders to lock me up if I stick my nose in it.”