Baby Back Murder: Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 2

by Summer Prescott

  “What is it, boy?” Franz frowned at the odd behavior in his very stable pet.

  Head lowered, a low growl rumbling in his chest, Barney crouched and moved toward the barn furthest from the house, his puzzled owner following closely behind. When the hound neared the barn, he didn’t go to the door, but around the side and behind the weather-beaten structure. There were some barrels and the hood of an old truck leaning against the building, and Barney stood roughly four feet away from those items, hackles raised, making a strange, keening sound unlike any that Franz Hellman had ever heard him make before. He moved slowly closer to see what all the fuss was about, and grabbed his chest when he saw a shoe, with a foot inside of it, sticking out from beneath the truck hood. The world started to go grey as pain shot through his chest and down his arm to his fingertips. Franz was able to pull his phone from his pocket and dial 911 before he blacked out completely, a whimpering Barney licking his face as he slumped to the frozen ground.

  ***

  Rossalyn Channing could have cheerfully torn her hair out, when she saw the swaggering form of Sheriff Buckley Willis darken her doorstep yet again. She’d met the pompous lawman shortly after opening Hawg Heaven, when the body of Tom Hundman’s daughter had been found lying in the field behind the café, near the highway. Since she’d been new in town, Willis had regarded her with utmost suspicion, and had come to the café more than once to toss vague accusations about. She would have been more than happy to never have to deal with the sheriff ever again, yet here he was, and the sour look on his face, more than likely spelled trouble. Thankfully the breakfast rush was over, and the lunch rush hadn’t yet begun.

  “Decide to finally try our delicious food?” Rossie greeted him, pasting a smile on her face that she hoped wasn’t too transparently fake.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do, young lady,” he rocked back on his heels and sucked his teeth.

  Rossalyn sighed. “What now?” she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

  “You were out at Franz Hellman’s place on Wednesday,” Willis said, making it sound like a crime.

  “Yes, and I had his permission to be out there. I bought some collectible items from him for Hawg Heaven. So what?” she crossed her arms, tired of talking with the sheriff already.

  “You talk to him about a TV show going out there to film some kinda antique thing?” he stared her down.

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, Miz Channing, I find it mighty interesting that there’s a dead body out behind old Franz’s barn, and the only connection between him and that body, is you.”

  Rossie felt the blood drain from her face, and was glad that Ryan was in the kitchen helping José with food prep. Dead body? How on earth could there be any kind of a connection between her and Franz and a dead body?

  “I’m… I don’t understand,” she frowned, trying to make sense of what the sheriff was saying, or not saying.

  “Seems one of the cameramen for that TV show somehow ended up dead behind Hellman’s barn. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea as to how that happened, now would ya?”

  Rossie shook her head. “No, of course not. How could I?”

  “You happen to have any contact with the cameraman?”

  “No. I mean, he may have been here with the rest of the crew when they came in to eat a couple of times, but other than setting plates down in front of them, there wasn’t any interaction. Was it some kind of accident maybe?”

  “Only if he accidentally stabbed himself,” Buckley Willis rolled his eyes and pursed his lips.

  “Stabbed? Oh my… how awful,” Rossie put a hand to her throat.

  “Yeah. Awful. You sure you didn’t have any type of entanglement with one of the guys? A little romance gone awry, maybe?” a side of Buckley’s mouth quirked up into a grotesque leering grin.

  “How dare you suggest such a thing?” Rossie’s eyes flashed fire. “My husband’s funeral was only a couple of months ago. Don’t you even try to suggest that I was romantically involved with someone, particularly a murder victim. I have nothing to say to you. I don’t know anything about what happened to a cameraman, why don’t you try to get out there and catch a real suspect?” she challenged, her nostrils flaring.

  Sheriff Willis took a deep breath in through his nose and stared at her speculatively.

  “Where were you last night between the hours of nine and midnight?”

  “At home, with my son. I don’t go out in the evening generally.”

  “That’s not a real strong alibi,” he mused, narrowing his eyes.

  “Why don’t you ask my neighbors? I have my blinds open until I go to bed. They can look right in and see me watching TV with Ryan. Mrs. Finch across the street can probably tell you what time I go to bed every night. I wave to her sometimes,” Rossalyn put her hands on her hips, furious at the sheriff’s implications.

  “Elmira Finch is your alibi? That old gal has been as blind as a bat since I was knee-high,” Willis snorted derisively. He pushed his stiff brimmed hat further back on his head, and smirked. “I may need to ask you some more questions soon, so don’t be thinking ’bout going nowhere anytime soon,” he directed, taking a toothpick from the holder on the counter and sticking it between his teeth.

  “My business can’t run itself, Sheriff,” she assured him archly.

  “I’ll be back,” he sauntered out the door, leaving her shaken and incredulous.

  Another murder in this small town? What had she gotten herself into? Rossie shook herself a bit, straining to focus, and went back into the kitchen to check on José, Ryan, and Garrett, before the lunch rush started.

  CHAPTER SIX

  *

  Rossalyn was subdued when she opened Hawg Heaven the morning after Sheriff Buckley stopped by. It was such an awful thing that someone had been killed on Franz Hellman’s land. She’d heard that Franz was in the hospital, having suffered a heart attack upon discovering a body behind his barn, and was wondering how the elderly man was doing. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the chimes above the door sounded. She looked up and saw Rick, Joel, and Stella coming in, looking tired and dejected. Stella’s eyes were red and puffy, looking as though she’d been crying and hadn’t gotten much sleep.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your cameraman,” Rossie murmured, bringing the trio some ice water and coffee and wondering where Garrett was this morning. He’d only been working for her for a couple of days, it didn’t bode well that he was already late.

  “Yeah, I just bet you are. Sorry you set us up for a situation where our guy would run into a psycho,” Stella hissed, turning on her like a rabid wolf. “Pretty darn convenient that you just happened to know of a place, huh? Do you get a serial killer finder’s fee? Or do you do it for your own jollies?”

  Rossalyn’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the woman’s rudeness.

  “You know what? I’m not going to give this worthless excuse for a human being my business. I wouldn’t eat your disgusting food if you paid me,” Stella snarled. “I’m leaving,” she announced, heading for the door.

  She stopped short and turned around to stare at Rick and Joel, who were watching her go.

  “You two coming with me, or are you going to give her the chance to kill you too?”

  Rick sighed and looked at her with compassion. “This lady didn’t kill anybody, Stel, come on now,” he reasoned.

  “Unbelievable,” an infuriated Stella shook her head. “You idiots go ahead and take your life in your hands. I’m going to get a donut from the gas station. It’ll be safer,” she shot one last dirty glare in Rossie’s direction and rushed from the café, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “I’m sorry about that, she’s a little overwrought,” Rick shrugged.

  “Was she close to… the gentleman who died?”

  “Parker, yeah she was. They were dating, and they’d had quite a doozy of a fight the night before he went out to the site. I think she feels bad that she wasn’t very
nice to him the last time she saw him,” the host explained, looking sad.

  “There was no way she could’ve known,” Rossie murmured, still reeling from having been on the receiving end of the young woman’s venom.

  “Guess that’s a lesson to us, huh? Always look out for each other and be kind, because you just never know,” his voice broke and Joel jumped into the conversation.

  “Whatcha got cookin?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, while his partner pulled himself together. They were a tight-knit group, and there was a pall over the entire production staff. “We need to get fueled up for the trip home.”

  “I’ll check with my chef and see what he’s featuring for breakfast,” Rossie took the hint and headed back toward the kitchen.

  “José, what’s the breakfast special?” she asked, looking around the kitchen. “And where is Garrett?”

  “Pulled pork breakfast burrito,” he replied, barely looking up from his onion chopping.

  The young man was still feeling badly about having yelled at Jason, who had left after the burnt sausage incident. No one around town seemed to know where he had gone, or if he’d be back.

  “I haven’t seen Garrett this morning. Maybe his alarm didn’t go off or something,” the cook shrugged. “I could use his help though,” he blew out a breath.

  “He doesn’t have a phone yet, so I can’t call him. If he’s not here after the breakfast rush is over, I’ll have to go see if I can find him,” Rossalyn frowned. “I hope he’s okay.”

  When she went back out front, the counter was beginning to fill with travelers and locals with growling tummies. At the end of the counter, she noticed Morgan Tyler, a handsome officer who worked with the Roscoe/Chatsworth police department. Morgan gave her a wave and a smile.

  “Good morning,” she approached him after taking the orders for Rick and Joel.

  “Good morning, yourself,” he grinned. Looking back over his shoulder at the two famous men behind him, he looked at Rossie curiously. “Are those two who I think they are?”

  “You watch Treasure Hunt USA?”

  “What can I say? I like to find vintage furniture pieces and refinish them,” he shrugged. “What are they doing here? Are they filming locally or something?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard yet,” Rossie glanced over at their table and lowered her voice, filling Morgan in on what had happened, including her conversation with Sheriff Buckley Willis.

  “Did you happen to see anything or anyone suspicious while you were out there at Franz’s place?” he asked.

  “No, but… there is something that I thought was a little bit strange. I feel bad mentioning it,” she bit her lip.

  “What is it?” he prompted.

  “Well, there’s a man, Samuel Preston, living out on the property. He has a camper down by the pond. He seemed very sweet, Ryan spent some time fishing with him, but I just thought that it was odd that he lived there.”

  “Does Franz know about him?”

  “Oh, definitely. He told me that he was harmless and had nowhere else to go.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like anything too sinister,” Morgan observed.

  “I know, it’s just…” Rossalyn hesitated.

  “Just what?”

  “He seemed to act strangely when I told him that I was going to the barn to look for some decorative items.”

  “Strangely how?”

  “I don’t know, he just had this look on his face,” she trailed off uncertainly. “It was probably nothing. Just forget I said anything,” she shook her head.

  “There could be something to it. Our instincts can be pretty powerful sometimes. I don’t know if my department will be a part of the investigation or not, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “There’s one other thing…” Rossie bit her lip, knowing that she had to attend to her other customers, but needing to talk to an objective person about her situation.

  “What’s that?”

  “I hired a new guy yesterday, Garrett Marshall, do you know him?”

  Morgan grimaced. “Yeah, I know him, why?”

  “Well, he told me a story that sounded completely believable, but he didn’t show up for work this morning, and I’m kind of worried.”

  “I wouldn’t be,” Morgan said reassuringly. “Did he happen to tell you who pressed charges that put him in jail after attacking him?”

  Rossie shook her head.

  “Jasper Willis. The same Jasper Willis who killed Tom Hundman’s daughter Dana, and skipped town. Sheriff Buckley Willis’s cousin, who seems to get away with everything in this town, including murder.”

  “Well, that explains a lot. I’m planning on going over to the boardinghouse later to see if I can track him down. He seems like a good guy.”

  Morgan nodded. “Far as I know, he is a good guy. A good guy who happened to come into the crosshairs of the Willis family,” he said grimly. “You be careful when you go to the boardinghouse,” he warned.

  “Why?” Rossalyn’s eyes widened at his concerned tone.

  “There’s a lot of turnover in tenants, and there are some unsavory folks that come through that place. Eliza Bouchard runs it, and tries to make sure that nothing illegal happens out there, but I’ve been out there more times than you might imagine to make arrests. So just be careful.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  Rossie scurried away, taking other orders with lightning speed, while the savory scents of José’s cooking wafted out into the eating area. The breakfast burritos were a huge hit, and Rossalyn felt sorry for Rick, when he could only eat half of his and had to box up the rest. Clearly, the death of his cameraman had hit him hard.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  *

  The large, grey, box-shaped house had clearly seen better days, but the lawn was neatly trimmed, the creaking floorboards of the porch were swept clean, and the leaves that had fallen from the red maple in the front yard had been bagged and set out at the curb. Rossalyn’s pulse raced a bit when she stood on the worn, but spotless door mat and rang the bell. Instead of the “ding-dong,” sound that she expected, she was surprised and delighted to hear a snippet of a classical tune announcing her arrival.

  “Hold your horses,” a woman, whom she assumed was Eliza Bouchard, called out crossly from within the boarding house. Rossalyn sighed, hoping that this wouldn’t be more difficult than she had anticipated.

  The brass doorknob turned, and a thin woman with frazzled hair tossed up carelessly in a bun on her hand stared at Rossie suspiciously.

  “Yeah?” she demanded in a raspy voice, appraising Rossalyn, lips pursed.

  “Uh, hello, my name is Rossalyn and…”

  “Whaddya need sweet cheeks? I ain’t got all day,” Eliza blinked at her, a hand on one blue-jeaned hip.

  Rossie took a breath before she spoke, determined to hold her temper. To find out what was happening with Garrett, she had to get through this impatient little tyrant, she couldn’t risk offending her and being turned away.

  “Garrett Marshall,” she said evenly. “I’m here to see Garrett Marshall.”

  Eliza’s eyes narrowed, and she looked Rossie up and down.

  “You ain’t a cop. Ain’t nearly tough enough for that,” she observed. “Whaddya want with Garrett?”

  “I’m his… employer. He didn’t show up to work this morning, and I just wanted to come by and make certain that he’s okay.”

  “You’re his employer,” the statement oozed with skepticism. “Well, ain’t that sweet. What does he do for you?”

  “I bought the old Sugar Shack and turned it into a café. Garrett helps me in the kitchen.”

  Eliza raised her eyebrows.

  “I heard about you,” she nodded. “Weren’t in town for even a couple weeks and they found a body in your backyard.”

  “Yes, that was unfortunate,” Rossie clenched her hands into frustrated fists at her side, her nails digging into her palms. “Is Garrett here?”

  Eliza cock
ed her head to one side, seeming to consider her options, then finally relented, opening the door wider so that Rossie could enter. “Room 2A, top of the stairs and turn left,” she directed. “Keep it short and simple. I don’t allow no funny business to go on in my house,” she warned, making Rossalyn blush at her insinuation.

  “I’m a widow,” she muttered, brushing past the tough-as-nails little woman who smelled vaguely of fried chicken.

  The stairs inside creaked as much as the floorboards of the porch had, and Rossie winced with every step, hoping that she wasn’t disturbing any of the inhabitants of the boarding house. All the walls were a generic cream color, and the hall runner covering the wood flooring in the upstairs hall was a drab grey-blue, giving the clean but worn home a depressed feel. She stepped up to the door that said 2A on it, and knocked tentatively. Hearing shuffling inside, she was heartened that at least she’d get to talk to Garrett and hear his explanation for not showing up to work.

  The odor of stale alcohol was pungent when Garrett opened the door, and his bloodshot eyes, messy hair and greyish pallor made it evident that if he was ill, it was most likely a consequence of his actions the night before. Rossie was both relieved and frustrated.

  “This really isn’t a good start to your job, Garrett,” she said softly.

  “I know,” he ran a hand over the faint shadow of a day-old beard. “I’m sorry Miss Rossalyn. Please don’t say anything about this to Eliza, she’ll kick me out of here. She don’t allow alcohol in the house,” he whispered, his rancid breath making Rossie back up a step. “I s’pose I’m fired,” he sighed.

  “Not a chance,” Rossie raised an eyebrow at him. “Get yourself a sports drink, take a shower and get to Hawg Heaven before the lunch rush. José is going to need your help.”

  “I really appreciate…” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.