Baby Back Murder: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 2

by Summer Prescott

  “What can I do, José?” Ryan asked, and the cook immediately found something for him to do to help get ready for the breakfast crowd.

  “Bacon-stuffed cinnamon rolls today?” Rossie asked.

  “Among other things,” José smiled mysteriously.

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll be back in the office for a few minutes getting ready for the day. Let me know if you guys need anything before we open,” she instructed and headed down the hall to her tiny closet of an office.

  Rossalyn was finishing putting the cash drawer together when José poked his head in the door.

  “Hey, Miss Rossalyn, we’ve got a big group here that wants to know if they can come in before we open. They say that they’ll eat whatever we have ready, and that they’ll need lots of coffee. Oh, and you might be on TV,” he blurted.

  “On TV? What’s that all about?” she frowned.

  “I don’t know, but they have cameras and stuff,” the cook shrugged, looking a bit excited.

  “Can you accommodate them while you’re getting the rest of the prep done?”

  “Sí. I’ve got Ryan and Jason both working in the back, and most of my work is done already, I can handle it, if you say it’s okay.”

  “It’s okay,” she nodded. “But I’m going to come out there and see exactly what’s going on.”

  José disappeared down the hall to let the group in, with Rossalyn right on his heels. He wasn’t kidding, at the door stood men with recording equipment and the parking lot held at least half a dozen cars, all before six in the morning. José let them in, and Rossie was startled to see a couple of men whom she recognized, not because she actually knew them, but because she was a fan of their show, Treasure Hunt USA. The two men traveled the country looking for antiques and collectibles to restore and sell, and had quite a following on the home improvement network. Taking a deep breath, determined not to behave like a starstruck teenager, Rossalyn stepped forward to greet the group, all men, with one bold, burgundy-haired exception.

  CHAPTER THREE

  *

  “Good morning,” Rossie greeted the host of one of her favorite shows with a broad smile, absently wondering if her hair looked okay, and feeling self-conscious about her casual attire: jeans and a black Hawg Heaven hoodie.

  “Hi,” the incredibly good-looking, tall-dark-and-handsome host, Rick Austin, enveloped her hand briefly in his. “I’m Rick, this is Joel,” he introduced his counterpart on the show, a somewhat pudgy, balding man with a goatee, who shook her hand as well and gave her a pleasant smile.

  “I’m Rossie.” Try as she might, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. “Welcome to Hawg Heaven. You can sit wherever you’d like, but I’ll warn you, we fill up pretty quickly when six o’clock rolls around.

  “Thanks, this is quite the place you have here,” Rick glanced around at the motorcycle-and Americana-themed interior and nodded appreciatively.

  “Oh, thanks. It’s a work in progress. I like to find décor that means something to me, rather than something that was just created to look pretty.”

  Rick glanced at the flag on a shelf about the cash register. “I can see that. That’s what we do, too.”

  “Oh, I know, I’m a fan of your show,” she admitted, proud that she hadn’t sounded like a gushy teenager when she said it.

  “Oh, that’s great. Do you know any places locally where we might be able to find some treasures? We’re filming a show in the next county and thought that we might as well stop here and see if there’s anything worth taking a look at locally.”

  “Actually, it’s a bit of an embarrassing story, but I do know of a place that you might find interesting. I was looking for the local landfill when we were first remodeling this place, and I got lost. In the process of trying to find my way out of the middle of nowhere, I found a collector with a lovely pond and a couple of barns full of treasures that he doesn’t mind parting with, for a price. I’m going back out there tomorrow, because I’m looking for something to hang on the wall, both in here and out on the patio.”

  “That sounds right up our alley, boss,” Joel commented, his eyes twinkling at the news.

  “Yes it does,” Rick agreed. “Do you think you could get a phone number for us when you’re out there? We’re filming about forty miles away from here today and tomorrow, but we could come back this week, while we’re out here, if he’s open to it.”

  “I’ll talk to him and let you know. Do you have a card or something?” Rossalyn asked.

  “I do,” the burgundy-haired young woman jumped in, not looking the least bit pleased. “All communication goes through me. Keeps the freaks and weirdos away,” she added dryly, seeming to appraise Rossalyn.

  She handed her a business card.

  “Stella Castle,” Rossie read aloud. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Rossalyn,” she held out her hand, which Stella grasped as briefly as possible.

  “Charmed. Can we get breakfast rolling? We have a schedule to keep,” she levelled her gaze at Rossie as though issuing a challenge.

  Rossalyn blinked and paused a beat before answering, not wanting to say the first thing that came to mind in the face of such unwarranted hostility.

  “I’m sure José will have you taken care of in no time,” she said stiffly, and stalked toward the kitchen.

  “Rossalyn,” Rick called after her and jogged to catch up. “Stella gets a little ‘mama bear’ sometimes. Please don’t take it personally,” he apologized.

  “I won’t. I deal with difficult personalities every day,” she returned, smiling.

  The host chuckled, catching her meaning. “Good. I know we’re early, and you opened up just for us, so you take your time and do what you need to do to get ready. I’ll deal with Stella,” he said in a low voice.

  “Shouldn’t be too long,” she smiled, then turned to help José.

  ***

  Rossalyn turned off of the rural highway and onto a winding dirt road which led to Franz Hellman’s country home. The elderly man’s house was a simple affair, a generous-sized ranch that was white with forest green shutters, but the two massive barns behind the house held some wonderful treasures. The property was large, and had wooded areas, fields, and even a fishing pond. The dusty road took her past fields with knee-high remnants of corn stalks, the pond, and a stand of trees before she got to the house, where Franz was smoking a pipe on the front porch, despite the fact that it was cold enough for Rossie to see her breath. Ryan was with her, and thought that everything in sight was ‘awesome.’ As soon as his mother parked the car, he asked if he could go look at the pond, and quickly trotted in that direction when Rossie gave her permission.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hellman,” she called out, waving as she got out of the SUV.

  “Not so fer, but the day’s young yet, I s’pose,” the old man regarded her with a bit of confusion.

  “I’m Rossalyn Channing. We met a few months ago when I got lost looking for the landfill,” she explained, standing politely at the foot of the steps leading up to the porch.

  He peered at her through the rather smudged lenses of his spectacles and nodded.

  “Yah, I kinda member something like that. You lost again?” he grinned at his own joke and Rossie joined him.

  “No. Last time I was out here, we talked about antiques and you said you had a couple of barns full of them and that I could come out and take a look sometime, so I’m hoping that the offer is still good,” she explained, the tip of her nose reddening from the cold.

  “Course it is. I don’t say it if I don’t mean it,” Franz shrugged. “Head on out there whenever ya please. If you find something you want to ask me about buyin, just give a holler.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I wanted to ask you another question too. There are some people today who came into my restaurant, and…” she began.

  “You got a restaurant?” he sat forward, suddenly interested. She had told him about it the first time that she’d gotten lost, but apparent
ly that had slipped his mind.

  “Yes, I do. It’s where the Sugar Shack used to be, and we served good home cooking with a pork emphasis, bacon, ham, chops, you name it.”

  “That so? I’ll have to come get a meal,” he mused.

  “That would be great, I’d love to see you. So, the people who came in this morning,” she steered the conversation back to the topic at hand. “They do a TV show that’s based around finding collectible things in small towns all over the USA. I told them about your place and they’d like to take a look, would that be okay with you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know about a bunch of TV people traipsing all over my property,” he pursed his lips.

  “They seem very nice,” Rossie replied. Most of them seem nice at least. Her thoughts flashed back to her encounter with Stella.

  “I suppose they can’t be too bad if they’re collectors,” Franz commented.

  “I could give them your phone number and then you could talk to them on the phone and decide whether or not it will work for you to have them come out,” she suggested.

  “I s’pose that’d be okay. I can always talk to ’em on the phone and tell ’em not to come.”

  “Yes, that’d be completely up to you.”

  “All right, you got something to write with?” he asked, coming to a decision.

  “Sure, hold on.” Rossie rummaged in her little purse and found an old receipt and a pen. “Okay, what’s your number?”

  “You gonna ask me out on a date,” he teased. ’

  “I already invited you to my restaurant,” she shot back with a laugh.

  “True enough. Okay ma’am,” he said, and gave her the number. “Now don’t go handing that out to all creation. I live out here cuz I don’t wanna bother with folks most of the time. I don’t need nobody calling me,” Mr. Hellman warned.

  “I understand, and will let them know,” Rossalyn promised.

  “Good enough then,” he nodded. “Go ahead and have a look. Your boy need a fishin pole?”

  “Oh, I bet he would love that,” Rossie grinned.

  “There’s one right around the corner of the house, closest to the first barn. There’s some catfish bait there too. You can take those out to him. It’ll keep him busy while you’re poking around. Got a squatter down there, name of Preston. Samuel Preston. Don’t worry none, he’s harmless. Ain’t got no place to go, so I let him park his camper out there. He does some work around here fer me.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Rossalyn smiled.

  “Meh, the more he does, the less I have to do,” he brushed aside her compliment, clearly pleased. “Go on now, get that boy some fishin equipment.”

  “Sounds good, thank you,” she took the hint and headed around the corner of the house.

  “Ain’t nothin,” was the contented reply.

  ***

  Rossalyn noted where the grass had been trampled between her SUV and the pond, and followed the path that Ryan had taken, fishing pole and catfish bait in hand.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Samuel Preston raised a hand in greeting when she neared the water’s edge, where he sat chatting with Ryan. The man needed a haircut, and his clothing was decidedly worn, but his smile was kind.

  “Mom, Sam was teaching me how to make a campfire,” Ryan said excitedly, a smear of soot across one cheek.

  “Well, it looks like he did a good job,” Rossie smiled, gazing at the merry fire which sat within a ring of stones. “Mr. Hellman thought that you might want to go fishing while I take a look around,” she said, handing him the fishing pole and tub of bait.

  “Sam, do you want to fish with me?” Ryan asked, clearly enjoying the company of the middle-aged man.

  “Sure, if we catch something, I can cook it up for us.”

  “Oh, we’re not going to be here that long, I just need to take a look in the barns for a bit and then we’ll be on our way. He’s not bothering you, is he?”

  “Nope, we’re enjoying each other’s company, ma’am, but you be careful in those barns,” Sam’s look was grave.

  Rossie cocked her head to the side at his strange reaction. “I sure will,” she promised, deciding not to ask what he meant, but puzzling about it as she cut back across the field, headed toward the barns.

  Samuel Preston watched her go, his expression masked, then turned back to help a very eager Ryan bait his hook properly. Rossalyn trudged carefully through the tall grass toward the barn that was furthest from the house, thinking that perhaps other folks who come out to search for treasures would probably go through the closest one first, and when she opened the heavy, creaking door, made from the same slats as the barn itself, she caught her breath in delight. It was dusty, it was cobwebbed in the corners, but the huge barn was a treasure trove of days gone by.

  She’d always loved mid-century modern furniture, and the well-insulated barn was full of unique pieces in various stages of usability, as well as pieces from many other eras that gave her pause for nostalgia. She’d come out here originally looking for items for Hawg Heaven, but she saw multiple things that she’d love to use in her home. Trying to focus on the task at hand, she found a sign from a popular motorcycle dealership that had gone out of business, as well as insignia from motorcycles old and new, and the cream of the crop: a neon sign in the shape of a motorcycle. For the patio, she found multiple headlights that she would make into sconce lighting.

  The door creaked open behind her, and a man, whose face she couldn’t see because of the bright sunlight behind him, came into the barn. He was far too big to be Franz or Samuel, and Rossie squinted to try to distinguish what he looked like, to no avail.

  “Hello?” she called out, not wanting to startle whoever it was.

  “G’mornin’ ma’am. Don’t mind me, I’m just out here taking a look at some things. Franz and I go to the Elks lodge together, so he lets me store some stuff out here sometimes,” the man moved out of the doorway and into the weak light cast by the overhead bulbs in the dimly-lit barn. “Name’s Forrest Hotchkiss,” he introduced himself with a smile.

  As he got closer, Rossie could see a somewhat well-to-do older man, dressed in brand-new jeans and a warm coat that one would find in a specialty outdoor gear store.

  “Rossalyn Channing,” Rossie smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but mine are full,” she chuckled. “I hope none of the things that I picked up are things that you store here.”

  “Oh no, not at all. My stuff is all locked up, no worries,” Forrest grinned. “Are you the gal that opened up a place where the Sugar Shack used to be?”

  “That’s me,” she nodded.

  “I’ve heard folks talking about it. You’re getting quite a reputation around here.”

  “A good one, I hope.”

  “Very much so. I’ve been meaning to get over there and give it a try.”

  “Well, I hope you make it in soon, we’ve got some great new dishes that we’re trying out.”

  “I’ll make a point of it,” he nodded.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Rossie headed for the door. “I can’t carry any more, so I guess I’ve hit my treasure hunting limit today.”

  “Looks like you got a good haul. Have a good rest of the day,” he hurried over to the door and held it open for her.

  “Thanks, you too,” Rossalyn stepped out into the bright sunlight and headed for Franz’s front porch to haggle over prices. That seemed to be the elderly gent’s favorite part of the process, so she couldn’t let him down.

  After a fun and feisty round of “what’s your best offer,” Rossalyn loaded her items into the back of the SUV, and blew into her hands, trying to warm them, as she headed for the pond to retrieve Ryan.

  “Mom! I caught a fish!” he announced when he saw her. “I did it all myself, too.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” Rossie grinned, catching Sam’s eye and shooting him a look of appreciation.

  She so often felt inadequate when it came to teaching her son how to be a man. That was supposed
to be Will’s job, and he wasn’t here to do it. She worried about providing everything she needed for her son, but had just vowed to do the best she could. There was no way that she could ever fill Will’s shoes—he’d been a great dad to their son—but she tried her best, and that would have to do.

  Ryan went down to the water’s edge and pulled on a rope which led to a basket that was beneath the water, which held two still-swimming fish in it. His catch had been a decent-sized perch, which would become Sam’s dinner later on. Rossie congratulated him, after making the appropriate happy noises to indicate how impressed she was, then they bade Sam goodbye and headed on their way. The kindly man told Ryan to come back and fish with him anytime.

  “That was awesome,” Ryan remarked, putting his seat belt on, his nose red from the chilly air.

  “I’m glad you had a good time,” Rossie grinned at her son affectionately. “What would you like for lunch?”

  “Whatever José made today,” he gave her a mischievous smile.

  “I’m with you on that one,” his mother readily agreed. “I can’t wait to try his new dish. I do need to stop by Mr. Hundman’s house on the way back though. Think you’ll starve?” she teased.

  “Probably,” Ryan nodded, fiddling with his phone.

  Rossalyn pulled up in front of Tom Hundman’s house and parked. Last time she’d gone to his door with Thanksgiving food, he hadn’t been terribly receptive, but he had previously offered to help her out with maintenance issues around Hawg Heaven whenever the occasion arose, so she figured that he’d probably be okay with her visit today. She rang the doorbell and waited to hear the telltale sound of heavy motorcycle boots on the wood floor of Tom’s foyer. Her hands were balled into fists inside her coat pockets, and her nose felt like it might begin to run because of the cold. He opened the door and spoke before she could get a word out.

  “I gave your dish back, didn’t that little weasel take it to you?” he grumbled.

  Rossalyn looked down and realized that she hadn’t heard him coming to the door because he wasn’t wearing his motorcycle boots, but had on a pair of well-worn moccasins.