Spaghetti, Meatballs, & Murder

by Beth Byers

  “Hey,” I said. “Could you stop?”

  “I think not,” she said. I could barely make out the additional light of a phone, and then I could hear the sound of ringing. There was an answer a moment or two later, and I realized the stupid woman actually called me in for trespassing.

  “There,” she said, with the snide voice of someone who had probably been prom queen and had never forgotten. “We don’t appreciate your kind in Silver Falls.”

  “What kind is that?” I gasped. I was about as white bread and boring as they came. I didn’t appreciate the sentiment in regards to anyone at all, but the mere idea that I was somehow offensive was ridiculous.

  “I think you know,” she said.

  “Dog owners?” I asked. “Bakers? People who are thinking of taking up knitting?”

  “I’m not unaware that Kyle Johansson died in your diner.”

  “From insulin poisoning,” I said. “Not from choking on a meatball. I certainly didn’t hurt him.’

  She laughed a cruel, cold laugh and said, “That remains to be seen though doesn’t it?”

  I glanced to the side waiting for whoever was going to come, I certainly wasn’t going to try to run off after the woman had called the police. Especially since I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  I heard the sound of a crunch of gravel and then a large industrial flashlight was blinding me even further.

  “Rose?” A deep, familiar voice asked.

  I felt a flash of relief followed by worry. I was glad Simon had answered, but I was also worried that he had answered. Why was he working so late? Or perhaps this was one of his ladies and she’d called him because he was who she called. My goodness, was that a flash of jealousy? I realized it was and compartmentalized the thought for later examination.

  “Simon?” I was squinting away from the light, shading my eyes, and he lowered the light to my feet.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Walking off my sleeplessness,” I told him wishing that his presence made me feel safe and not jealous. Neither of those things were true.

  “Here?”

  Apparently, I should know where here was.

  “I took the path outside the cottages,” I said, frustration coloring my tone. “I walked towards the moon for more light. I don’t even know where I am.”

  He cleared his throat, and I could see he was fighting to hold back his real feelings regardless of what they were, “You’re behind Mayor Roberta Jenkins house, Rose.”

  “Well…is the path private property? Why does it matter where I am? I was sitting watching the stars and thinking.”

  “No,” Simon said as the mayor replied, “Yes.”

  Simon cleared his throat and then said, “You’re certainly close to the mayor’s property line but given the circumstances….”

  “It’s late for some stranger to be prying around private residences. This woman doesn’t have any reason to be outside of my house that isn’t suspicious.”

  “Going for a sleepless walk isn’t suspicious, Roberta,” Simon said evenly. He sounded as if he were holding back a snap of anger. That anger didn’t remove my jealousy.

  “That’s not how I see it,” she snapped. “You need to take her in and question her more thoroughly about why she’s here and while you’re at it about the poor druggie boy too.”

  The druggie boy? Geez, I thought. But I held my tongue on purpose. I wanted to see how this played out.

  “Rose doesn’t have any motive to have killed Kyle,” Simon said. There was less hiding of the anger in his voice that time around, but he still sounded professional.

  “Everyone heard about that accident, detective,” Roberta said, making detective sound like servant.

  “And yet, she didn’t press charges or even make a formal complaint.”

  “We all heard about her rage after it,” the mayor countered.

  “Anyone would have been rightfully upset at nearly being killed, mayor,” Simon said. “It isn’t a legitimate reason to investigate her for the murder, and there’s no evidence supporting that she did.”

  The mayor’s tone had morphed to full chill when she said, “But it’s not like you have evidence of anything, do you? Are you sure you’re capable of investigating this matter?”

  “Of course, I am,” Simon said evenly. His voice was perfectly respectful snap and he continued, “I will not arrest a woman for walking past your house, mayor. Rose, let’s go.”

  “Don’t let your affection for a new pair of legs distract you from your job. Or you won’t be serving here much longer.”

  “And yet,” Simon said, “While I do serve, I’ll be upholding the law, not your whims, Roberta.”

  He took hold of my arm, and I let him lead me away. I didn’t particularly like being led around like a stray dog but seeing that the mayor wanted to have me arrested for the baloney version of trespassing, I let it go.

  “Rose,” Simon said as we arrived at his truck. “You need to be careful.”

  “From what?” I snapped. “From the Silver Falls mass murderer? Please.”

  “There is a murderer out there,” he said. I could see his shadow push his hair back and he sounded exhausted. I was glad I couldn’t meet his eyes as I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t give in to his pleas and forget why I was upset.

  “And it’s convenient for me to be around for the killer, isn’t it? I’m everyone’s favorite bad guy. If the new girl is the killer, no one is inconvenienced.”

  My fury was pouring out. Probably because I was so tired. Maybe because I was so hurt. Definitely, because his doubt was more painful that I wanted it to be. He stepped closer to me, reaching past me to open the passenger truck door. As he did, the light from the truck poured out.

  “It isn’t convenient for me,” he said. Instead of stepping back, he leaned into me, cupping my cheek and said, “I don’t like it at all.”

  His gaze fixed on my face. Or maybe it was my lips? I wasn’t sure, I just knew that the chill of the evening had suddenly become far more apparent. There seemed to be a snap of something between us—maybe it was electricity? Chemistry? I knew that I wanted to step closer to him, but I was too proud for that. He considered me as a possible killer, and I wasn’t going to take one step closer until I was sure that he had no doubts left. And maybe not then.

  I admitted to myself that his defense of me warmed me. That it made me feel better about him and about things, but I also admitted to myself that it wasn’t quite enough. Not for this new, bright life that I was trying to build. I couldn’t let my dreams be demeaned by suspicions, and I wouldn’t be seen that way. I wouldn’t be seen as a possible killer. Not by the man I had been hoping would be far, far more than a good friend.

  I cleared my throat and slid to the side away from his truck.

  “Let me give you a ride home,” he said, gently.

  “I think I’ll finish walking out my sleeplessness,” I said. “On the sidewalk. Thanks for not arresting me.”

  His laugh was mean when he said, “As if I would arrest anyone for walking on the path that people walk by the beach. I’m no one’s flunky.”

  “Don’t lose your job,” I said, setting Daisy down. She immediately pawed Simon’s foot for a pet, and he obliged.

  “Duke misses his friend,” Simon said.

  I was sure the dog did. They’d played together nearly every day since we both adopted our dogs. They’d have to get over it.

  “Have a good night,” I said because I didn’t have anything else to say. Not right then. But I promised myself I’d do whatever I could to return my life to the path it had been on. The one with good friends and the one with a possible love and the one with an excellent diner that I was loving running.

  “Rose?”

  I had turned away, but I glanced back over my shoulder.

  “I’m going to find the real killer,” he said.

  The fact that he used the word “real” made me appreciate him a whole lot more, but I didn’t react
other than to say, “That sounds good.”

  “And then we’re gonna have words.”

  There was enough warmth in his voice that I was very much looking forward to those words.

  “Ok,” I said.

  “Text me when you get home?” he asked and because he asked so nicely I nodded.

  I headed back towards the cottage, made my tea while texting Simon, and finally slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 12

  “Hey everyone,” I said brightly. I slapped a paper bag down on the counter and grinned at them as I pulled out a five-hour energy drink and some eye drops. I chugged the drink and then glanced around again. “No Tara?”

  “Did you expect her to be on time?” Zee asked snidely. She sniffed and then started a pot of coffee. “You know better than that.”

  I took a deep breath, admitted to myself that I’d hoped, and then lied, “Not really.”

  “Liar,” Zee said. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot she’d made and then poured one for Az too.

  “One for me, please,” I said.

  Zee glanced me over, eyed the empty energy drink, and said, “Too much caffeine will kill you.”

  Az said nothing, but he started pouring out pancakes. We’d made it a habit of a pancake breakfast when we had our morning meetings. They sounded really good and the smell filled the diner immediately.

  “We’re suspects for the murder, Az,” Zee announced as if she were saying that it would rain later that day. She added cream to her coffee and then sugar.

  “I figured we would be,” he said. He poured another row of pancakes and threw down a bag of hash browns. He flipped the row of pancakes and added the brown sugar topping in a swirl that turned them into cinnamon roll pancakes.

  “Did you? I was surprised,” I admitted, and even I heard the sadness in my voice. I grabbed the eye drops putting them in my burning, exhausted eyes, and hoping they’d hide whatever emotion was welling there too.

  “We served the food that was poisoned,” he said simply. He cleared his throat and then poured butter over the hash browns and then started cracking fried eggs for us. It would be a breakfast to slow us down counteracted by the work to do and the caffeine we’d swill. “There’s no way we’ll avoid being questioned.”

  His voice sounded sad, and I examined his face. Nothing more than regret seemed to reflect on those features. He knew why I was searching his face, and his dark brown eyes crinkled at me—completely not offended that I was searching his face for hidden secrets or motives.

  “Kyle was an idiot. He was cruel and petty and mean and very young,” Az said. “I’d have happily kicked him out of the diner and out of Tara’s life but that wasn’t my choice to make.”

  He was answering the questions I didn’t want to ask, and he was doing it without an ounce of a grudge. I realized in a flash I should probably cut Simon some slack. I smiled at Az. He had voice like dark chocolate and coffee. It was rumbly and rich, and I liked it very much. What I liked more was the emotion behind those words. Any doubts I had about Az and Kyle were gone.

  “Did you see anything? Goodness, I want this to be over. We need that murderer found before people stop coming to the diner and start really suspecting us.”

  Az started serving up stacks of pancakes, putting too much butter on mine just how I liked them and no butter at all on Zee’s. I shook my head at her as she took her first bite of her dry, plain pancakes.

  I poured the cream cheese topping all over my pancakes. Far, far, too heavily for good health and then I took a far too large bite for anything but a rabid animal.

  “So you didn’t kill Kyle,” Zee told Az. “I didn’t. Rose doesn’t know enough about Kyle to truly hate him as he deserved. Did you see anything? All I can remember is far, far too many meatballs for any person to serve.”

  “Nope,” Az said. “Me and Eddie just served up plate after plate of spaghetti and tried to keep things flying. I’m not sure I saw anything other than the plates of food.”

  “You talk to the police yet?” Zee asked.

  He glanced at her and back at the grill and suddenly I was suspicious. There was something in that look that said both of them knew a secret that I didn’t know.

  Oh goodness no, I thought. Please no. Not my staff. Not my diner. Not my second chance.

  “Eddie did while I was out fishing yesterday,” Az said. “He has a job on a fishing boat, so he’s out for a few weeks. Hopefully, they don’t need to talk to him again.”

  His voice was utterly peaceful and calm. Just a deep rumble of information, but his glance at Zee said something far, far more. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I wouldn’t have even noticed. But the first time, I’d looked up at just the right time. I shoved my plate of pancakes away and ignored the smaller plate with hash browns and eggs.

  My head cocked as I glanced between them and I considered. Why would either of them kill the local drugged out teen? They wouldn’t. How could they have a motive? Even if they hated him, you didn’t kill over hating your coworker’s boyfriend. You just didn’t. Zee worked at the diner, spent her afternoons with friends, and her evenings with her cats. She was a sassy local crone who enjoyed living here and interacting with the town. She’d no more have killed Kyle than I would have. If anything, she’d have just harassed him until he avoided her relentlessly.

  Az made even less sense. For a while there, I’d seen him as a protector, but I didn’t think that was the case. I didn’t think, as much affection as he might have for Tara, that Az would have removed Kyle from life. Maybe…maybe…Az would have given Kyle a good beating. Far more likely, Az would have just threatened the kid without actually lifting a finger. Az was a huge, dark man with wide shoulders and something that said his life had been rough. He’d have terrified Kyle with mere insinuations.

  It just didn’t make sense. But what were they hiding?

  “Something wrong with the pancakes?” Az’s deep Jamaican accent rolled through the kitchen and I shook my head even as I stood and scraped my plates into the trash can

  “Too much caffeine, I guess,” I lied.

  “Told you,” Zee said with her usual mean tone.

  I tried smiling at them and said, “Well, I guess we should get to it.”

  I crossed into the office, checked on Daisy, and submitted my grocery order. When I came back out, Zee had turned the sign and only Simon, Jane, and Mattie were sitting in the diner. Usually, Henry—the paper delivery guy—came in for coffee and toast before heading to his second job. My eyes narrowed. Across the street at the tiny little coffee shop, there was a line out the door. I could feel the immediate frustration of it. We’d lost our early regulars to a tiny shop without enough seating.

  I closed my eyes and crossed to my friends, taking their order.

  “Tara here yet?” Simon asked casually. Not casually enough for me to miss that he wanted to talk to her.

  I shook my head and walked into the kitchen rather than to the order window.

  “They want pancakes. Make one order of buckwheat pancakes and scrambled egg whites, sliced tomatoes, grilled asparagus and mushrooms.”

  Az looked up, glanced out at the table and then asked, “Who decided to be healthy?”

  I shrugged and his eyes narrowed on me. I gave him my evilest smirk and then pulled out a tub of tomatoes to begin slicing for later that day.

  “You’re playing with fire,” Az told me. “You have his attention already. What are you going to do when he realizes you’re more than a new, pretty face?”

  Simon had ordered cinnamon roll pancakes, 2 fried eggs over easy, bacon, and hash browns.

  “What do you think him realizing that will do?” I put a tomato in the slicer, shoved the blade over, and then did another.

  “I think you’ll fixate his attention and have to decide just what you want out of him. Because he’s going to figure out what he wants from you.”

  I glanced over at him, shook my head, and then processed several mor
e tomatoes before I asked, “And what’s that?”

  Az’s deep chuckle preceded his answer, “Everything you’ll give him.”

  I snorted and finished the tub of tomatoes as Az finished serving up the plates. I took them up, grabbing a serving of the berry compote, leaving the butter off and arranging Simon’s plate to be the healthiest version of food we offered. He’d hate it. I couldn’t help but grin at Az, wink, and then lift the tray, heading out the kitchen door to hand out the plates.

  I gave Jane her cinnamon roll pancakes first and then Mattie her crunchy French toast and then handed Simon the remains. He glanced down and up at me. Given they were our only customers, there was no chance I’d messed up his order. His eyes narrowed on me, and I smiled brightly. As if I didn’t see anything wrong, I filled up his coffee cup with the decaf.

  Mattie noticed first and bit back a laugh. It took Jane a minute longer, but she looked as if she’d slept about as well as I had. I smiled again, merrily, and then said, “Oh Jane. I have something for you.”

  I found my bag of energy drinks and handed her one. Her eyes narrowed and I said, “I didn’t sleep well and thought of you this morning. Maybe you need a little extra energy.”

  She smiled at me and admitted, “I am feeling worn down.”

  “Me too,” I said. I squeezed her shoulder and ignored Simon’s silent protest. I crossed to the boxed cakes and pulled down the cake plates to fill them with last night’s baking.

  “Those look amazing,” Mattie said humor at Simon’s rumbling carrying to me where I was working.

  “Lemon chiffon and raspberry frosting,” I said as I lifted the first cake and put up the sign for the pricing.

  I added the carrot cake and chocolate cake and then looked up to find Simon standing on the other side of the counter, watching me.

  I grinned at him as if I didn’t know he was irritated with my prank. The man did not like change. And I suspect he didn’t like asparagus and sliced tomatoes. I had sprinkled them with balsamic vinegar and sea salt. If he’d given them a chance, he might have liked them.

  “No Tara yet?”

  I shook my head.