Patriot's Passing: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries, Book 1

by Summer Prescott

  “What kinds of weird stuff?” Rossalyn asked, a curl of fear unfurling in her stomach.

  “When we were little, like six years old or something, he had a cute little puppy, and he said it ran away, then my sister saw him digging a hole in the back yard, and when she asked him what he was doing, he chased her away,” José’s eyes were wide.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean anything necessarily,” Rossie shrugged. “Maybe he was just digging a hole and didn’t like girls. That would be typical six-year-old boy behavior.”

  “But there was more,” he insisted. “His sister used to come over to have sleepovers with my sisters, and once when she was getting her pajamas on, my sisters saw that she had tiny purple bruises all over her body. They asked her what had happened, and she said that her brother would pinch her til she screamed and would bite her, and told her that she had to make up stories to tell her mom and dad, or he’d do worse things.”

  “Did he do worse things?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer. This crazy town was becoming more sinister by the second.

  “Don’t know. His sister, she drowned in the bath tub about a year later. He was the one who found her.” José looked grim.

  “Well, it’s awful that he treated his sister that way, that’s not okay, but there’s no proof that he did those other things, so we’re just going to treat him like he didn’t,” Rossalyn said quietly, worried, but not knowing what to do.

  Apparently Morgan Tyler either didn’t know those things about Jason, or he had considered them to be pure speculation. She’d keep a close eye on her new employee, that was certain.

  “Okay,” he shrugged, clearly not convinced. “But he was mean to me too.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He called me names, said I smelled funny. He’d trip me in the hall, you know, kid stuff. In high school he soaked my gym uniform in the toilet, and the water wasn’t clean.”

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Rossalyn murmured. “José, I have to ask… why did your family stay here if so many people were so horrible to you?”

  “Where we gonna go, Miss Rossalyn? This is our home. My father, he paid for our house by working hard, and when he died, we got nothing but this house. What are we gonna do? It’s too late to start over. Besides, there’s a lot of good people in this town too. People who invite us to things and don’t knock over our trash cans and smash our pumpkins. There’s good people here, and if we leave, there’s one less nice family,” he smiled sadly.

  “Well, I’m sure glad you and your mom and your sisters are here, José. We’ll work with Jason and see how things go, okay? He may be a nice person now. Sometimes even the most awful kids grow up to be good adults.”

  “Okay,” he nodded, still skeptical. “Whatever you say.”

  Jason came in about half an hour later, and after they’d exchanged greetings, Rossalyn noticed a small brown stain on the side of his shirt.

  “What happened?” she asked, pointing at the stain. “Are you hurt?”

  There was a panicked look in his eyes as he glanced down for a moment before replying. “That?” he asked, with a nervous laugh. “Oh no, I’m not hurt, I was making cocoa for my mom this morning and I must’ve splashed it on me when I was delivering it to her.”

  “Ouch, I hope it didn’t burn,” Rossalyn stared at him.

  “Nah, I put plenty of milk in it, so it wasn’t that hot. Should I start slicing the ham?” he asked, reaching for a large butcher knife.

  “Uh, no,” she blurted. “Why don’t you, uh… start mashing the potatoes that José scoops out. We can get a head start on them that way. They’re pretty popular.”

  “Sure thing,” he looked at his new boss strangely, and opened a drawer, taking out the potato masher.

  “And after that, you can shred the cheese and help José reassemble the potatoes to go in the oven.”

  “Got it,” he nodded, pouring milk and scooping butter into a bowl with the potatoes.

  Making sure that the café was ready to receive guests, Rossalyn wondered how Dana, the girl killed by the highway, had died. Had she been strangled? Shot? Stabbed? She gave herself a case of the willies, and resolved to stop obsessing over what may have been just a random murder, committed by someone who was thousands of miles away by now. But there was something bothering her about the whole thing that she just couldn’t shake. If the murderer was a local, was she at risk, or more importantly, was Ryan? Her stomach churned, and she found herself wishing that she’d just stayed in Hartman with her mom and dad.

  The day was busy, and passed uneventfully, with the three of them working as a team, despite the fact that Jason and José rarely acknowledged each other’s existence. Rossalyn had a fat bag of cash to deposit on her way home, and was thankful that the drive-thru lane was still open, so she didn’t have to go to the automatic terminal and feel exposed with a large sum of money out in the open. After she made her deposit, she pulled over in the bank parking lot to tuck her receipts into the work folder that she brought home with her every night so that she could keep up with her business accounting.

  Through her closed window, she heard raised voices and looked across the street toward the gas station where Jason worked when he wasn’t helping out at the café. Jason was arguing with none other than her neighbor, Tom the Biker, who sat straddling his bike, arms crossed over his massive chest. Jason was clearly upset, and Tom didn’t seem to be. The much smaller man ran at the biker, pushing against his chest without budging him an inch. Tom took one hand and planted it in the center of Jason’s chest, knocking him onto his backside. He then gunned the engine on his bike and pulled away from the gas station, heading toward Rossalyn’s street. She sat in the parking lot for a few more minutes, letting him get well ahead of her so that there was no chance of encountering the apparently unstable biker once she got into the neighborhood.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  Rossalyn slipped out the door of her cozy cottage in the pre-dawn gloom being careful not to wake Ryan, who wouldn’t need to get up and get ready for school for at least an hour and a half.

  “Early bird gets the worm?” drawled Tom Hundman, who was reclined on her porch swing, not even wearing a coat to ward off the chill.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped, startled, a hand to her chest.

  “You got some dangerous folks hanging out at your new place,” he inclined his head in the direction of Hawg Heaven.

  “I have pepper spray,” she warned him, tightening her hold on her purse.

  “Good for you. You might need it if those Willis boys come around again,” he was entirely unfazed.

  “If I scream, every one of these neighbors will be on the phone to the police,” she tried again, glancing around at the still-dark neighboring houses.

  “You feel like screaming?” he asked, one corner of his mouth quirking upward in amusement.

  Rossalyn sighed. “It’s pretty much a constant state of being since I moved to this stupid town,” she complained bitterly.

  “I hear ya,” Tom replied, gazing out toward the horizon. “What do you know about that boy you just hired?”

  Why does everyone keep asking that?

  “He’s a hard worker and he works cheap,” she shrugged, her fear of death at the hands of Tom the Biker ebbing a bit.

  “That boy ain’t right in the head,” he commented.

  “Some folks say that about you,” she shot back before she could exercise better judgment.

  He looked at her for a long moment before responding. “I expect so,” he said finally, dropping his feet down from the swing and standing up.

  He walked slowly down the porch steps, his ancient motorcycle boots making dull thuds, then turned around when he got to the bottom.

  “Gotta be careful, ya know. Sometimes when something seems too good to be true, it is,” he said quietly, walking away.

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Rossa
lyn shook her head in frustration. “Doesn’t anyone in this town speak freely?”

  “Maybe they are speaking freely. Maybe you ain’t listening hard enough,” was Tom’s parting shot.

  Rossie sighed, not knowing what, or who, to believe anymore. Being a military wife had been tough, but she’d made it through, with the help and support of other wives who were missing their husbands. Now, she had no one to rely on but herself, and her heart ached every day as she wondered if she would sink or swim on her own. She had to make it, for Ryan’s sake, as well as the other people who were counting on her—her parents, José, and Jason—and hoped that she could just stay strong and not crack under the pressure that seemed to surround her on all sides.

  When Rossalyn arrived at work, José was already inside, beginning his prep work, and Jason stood outside the front door, looking very defensive as he spoke with Sheriff Buckley Willis.

  “You always let the help open up for ya in the morning?” the sheriff demanded when she approached.

  “I don’t see that how I run my business is any concern of yours, Sheriff,” Rossie replied coolly, as Jason took the opportunity to slip inside.

  “You better think twice before givin’ me them snippy answers, lil lady,” he barked. “I’m conducting an investigation here.”

  “Are you? Funny, I haven’t heard of any progress being made in the case. All the paper keeps saying is that you’ve got no leads.”

  “Well, they don’t know everything, and neither do you. I’d hate to have to take you in for obstruction if you don’t start answering my questions,” Buckley smirked.

  Rossalyn’s eyes shot daggers at the smug little man.

  “No, I don’t always have my employees open up for me. Sometimes I get here first.”

  “Who all has keys to this place?”

  “Just me and José, why?”

  “I thought I’d made it pretty darn clear that I’m askin’ the questions here,” the sheriff raised his eyebrows at her in an arrogant manner that made her want to physically wipe the expression from his pallid face. She remained silent.

  “Who opened up on the morning that the murder victim was found?”

  “José did. He was doing prep work before we opened for breakfast.”

  “Well, ain’t that sumthin,” Willis pursed his lips. “Cuz, the way that your Mexican tells it, some guy on a motorcycle opened the place.”

  “That’s absolutely not true,” Rossalyn exclaimed, astounded that the sheriff would make up a bald-faced lie. “No one who worked here on the morning that the body was found has a motorcycle.”

  “You might want to not be so trusting of those two losers that you hired. You could get in a whole lotta trouble if they committed a murder on your land, or saw who did and ain’t talkin’ bout it,” he issued a veiled threat.

  “I don’t take threats well, Sheriff,” Rossie ground out between her teeth.

  “With the company you keep, you might want to get practiced up at it,” Buckley drawled, turning to go. “By the way, your request for a restraining order against my cousins was denied,” he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “What? Why?” she demanded.

  “Judge said there ain’t no grounds for one,” he chuckled. “Have a nice day now,” his voice dripped sarcasm as he tipped his hat in farewell.

  Rossalyn was furious. Because that insufferable man was the sheriff, her request for a restraining order had been denied, which left her vulnerable to whatever harassment the Willis brothers felt like visiting upon her. There must be something that she could do. Hands shaking, she got inside, told José and Jason to get ready for the breakfast crowd, and went back to her tiny office to make a phone call.

  “Good morning, Rossalyn,” Officer Morgan Tyler answered his phone promptly, leaving Rossie feeling a bit taken aback.

  “How did you know it was me?” she asked, baffled.

  “I put you in my contacts list after you called last time,” he chuckled.

  “Oh. Right. Of course. Sorry, I’m just a little rattled right now,” she admitted.

  “Why? What’s going on?” he was all business now.

  “I just got a visit from Sheriff Willis, and he said that the judge denied my request for a restraining order against his awful cousins. Isn’t there something that I can do about that? I mean, it seems like a conflict of interest for the sheriff to have any input into a situation involving his own family.”

  “In any other county, you’d be absolutely right, but around here, some of the rules just don’t apply to some folks,” Morgan sighed in frustration. “There’s not a whole lot that you can do at this point, unless they do something to harm you or your property, but I can put your house and business on a drive-by list so that we can check on you from time to time. It’s not much, but it might help them stay away if they know that we’re on top of things,” he suggested.

  “Anything that you do would be great,” Rossalyn agreed. “So, how did you happen to be here the other day when Jasper was causing problems?”

  “I was driving past and saw their truck in the parking lot, and figured I might wanna go in and take a look.”

  “I’m so glad that you did. I mean, I hate sounding like a helpless female, but I’m really thinking that those two could cause some real problems.”

  “They can, and they probably will if they have a chance, but I’m going to do what I can to try to keep them from having the chance. In the meantime, you might want to think about installing an alarm system with a panic button that can be reached from behind the counter or in the kitchen.”

  “It’s a shame that I’d have to do something like that because of some rude idiots who have nothing better to do with their lives than to stir up trouble for local business owners,” Rossalyn fumed.

  “I know, it’s frustrating. Like I said, I’ll talk to some people over here at the station and we’ll do what we can. Be careful out there, and don’t hesitate to call if you need help.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, Morgan,” she murmured, her mind far away.

  After she hit the end button on her phone, Rossie sat at her desk, simmering with anger. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, yet somehow she’d become a target, and it was infuriating. What could she possibly do? If Will were here, what would he say to do? She tapped her pen on the desk in front of her, thinking.

  One of Will’s favorite sayings was, “Assess the resources at hand, and make use of them.” What resources did she have? Intelligence, but that didn’t seem to be helping her at the moment. She could go buy the alarm system that Morgan had suggested, that would be a resource. She’d let the local police know what was going on, that was a resource, but what else? What could she do immediately to help relieve some of her concern? She wished that she could have Will standing at the door to greet the Willis brothers the next time that they came in. He’d certainly be able to teach them some manners.

  A thought occurred to her just then, and she was desperate enough to consider the outlandish possibility. Picking up her purse and keys, she tossed her cellphone in her purse and headed for the kitchen.

  “José, you’re in charge. Jason, you take care of serving and working the register, I’ll be back in a little while. Call my cell if anything that you can’t handle happens,” she instructed on her way out the door.

  “Uh-huh,” José sighed, resuming his cooking.

  “Uh, okay,” Jason agreed, staring after her as she practically ran to her car.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Rossalyn pounded on the door, her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her as she realized that this just might be the end of her. She could actually, in this moment, be putting herself in mortal danger, but she was typically a good judge of character, and she was hoping that her judgment at the moment was guided by more than fear and determination. She thought she might faint when she heard the heavy thud of boots making their way toward the door. Swallowin
g hard, she braced herself.

  Tom Hundman opened the door and didn’t say a word. He merely leaned against one side of the doorjamb, regarding the trembling woman in front of him with curiosity, arms crossed.

  “Hi,” she offered, upon realizing that he apparently was not going to waste his breath on a greeting. “I… uh… I wanted to apologize. You startled me this morning, but that isn’t a good excuse for me to have been rude to you, so, I’m sorry,” she said, trying desperately to sound strong and brave. It was comical really.

  “Fine,” he said, and turned away, his hand on the doorknob, ready to shut it.

  “Wait,” she exclaimed, startled at her own boldness. “I also wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Tom took a long breath in and sighed through his nose, clearly he wasn’t in a sociable mood, and Rossalyn took a deep breath while she waited to see if he was going to react violently. He reminded her of a bear who had been awakened during hibernation. His long hair was a tousled mess, and he seemed tired and irritable, like he might be capable of biting her head off and snacking on her bones.

  “What?” he growled, still bear-like.

  “Well, as you know, I’ve had some trouble with the Willis brothers…”

  She’d caught his interest with that, he raised an eyebrow and gave her his full attention.