“What are you doing here?” she asked flatly.
Ironic. That was the very question I’d been asking myself ever since I started down the hallway to the office. “Your dad asked me to come by. . .to see if I can help you sort out your problems.”
“My boyfriend was murdered, and even though Daddy always acted like you could walk on water, I’m pretty sure you can’t do anything about raising the dead.”
Ouch. I took a step backward. Mentally I was picturing myself saying, “Sorry, Bob. I tried.”
“Other than that I only have one other problem.” She glanced toward the door that Larry had just stormed out of then back at me. “Make that two. Your friend, John, thinks I’m a murderer.”
“Are you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “No.”
“Good. I didn’t think you were.”
She sat down in the office chair and stared at me.
I’d shocked her, but at least she’d stopped sniping at me for a minute. “So now that we have that out of the way, do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill J.D.?” I sat down in the chair across from the desk.
She pursed her lips and shook her head.
“I know this is hard, Lisa, but you’re going to have to help me. I just have a few questions—”
She blew out her breath in disgust. “There’s nothing you can ask me that the police haven’t already asked. They wanted to know about my eating habits, about J.D.’s eating habits, about our relationship.” She raised an eyebrow. “Personal things.” She waved her little cell phone at me. “They even confiscated my phone. And questioned me about it. How long have I had it? Who’s my carrier? Did I have another phone?” She sighed. “And then the big question. Why was J.D. behind the diner?”
My heartbeat picked up slightly. “What did you tell them about that?”
“I told them the truth—I have no idea. We didn’t have a date or anything that night.”
“Was that normal?” I sounded like a detective.
She shrugged. “Well, to tell you the truth, once he took your place here, we saw each other constantly. So we didn’t go out quite as much.”
I tried to keep my irritation from showing. Once he took my place. I knew she said that just to needle me. “So had you known him long? Before you started dating, I mean?”
“No. Not really.” She leaned toward me. “You know how you’re supposed to meet guys at weddings? Well, we met him at a funeral. His grandmother’s funeral. We were instantly attracted to each other.”
“We who?”
“Me and J.D.” She shook her head. “Good grief, Jenna. How can you solve a murder if you can’t even keep up with a normal conversation?”
“I meant who was with you at the funeral? Your husband?” Maybe Lisa’s ex saw the instant attraction and understandably resented it.
She snorted. “Hardly. I went with Debbie. J.D.’s grandmother and Debbie’s grandmother were friends. Or something like that.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing them as unimportant. “I’m not really sure why, but Debbie thought she should go and didn’t want to go by herself. So I went.”
“Okay. You met him at his grandmother’s funeral. And it was love at first sight. So you started dating and then hired him to work here. Right?”
“Pretty much. He decided to look for part-time work so he could stay here and get to know me better. Luckily you quit not too long after that.”
I was speechless with outrage, but she didn’t notice.
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Only now he’s dead, and in a way it’s all my fault. If he hadn’t been so crazy about me, he’d have left town after the funeral.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Because his grandma didn’t leave him anything. Not a penny. And I think he was expecting to get a big inheritance. He was really disappointed.”
“He wasn’t rich, then?” I’d always had Lisa pegged for a girl who went where the money was.
“Well, he definitely didn’t seem rich when we first started going out. He even let me buy my own dinner. If he hadn’t been so good-looking I probably wouldn’t have gone out with him again.” She wiped her eyes once more. “But after a couple of weeks, he started paying for everything. He even took me to Tunica. And gave me money to play the slots. But of course, I didn’t tell John any of that.”
“Any idea where he got the money?”
“Now, how would I know that?” She rolled her eyes.
“Well, you were dating him.” I may have sounded a little sharp. Probably.
“And that was the only reason I agreed to be fingerprinted. John told me it was to eliminate my prints so that they could find the killer.” She tossed the tissue in the garbage, and her tears dried as quickly as they came. “But now he’s using my fingerprints to try and prove I killed J.D. He tricked me so he would have someone to arrest,” she snarled. “I can’t believe I trusted him.”
“Lisa, they needed your fingerprints. And he didn’t trick you. How could he know your prints would be on the gun? You have to admit it makes you look suspicious.”
“It was my gun, so of course it had my prints. It’s not my fault someone stole it out of my drawer.”
“How long had it been missing?”
“How should I know? I hardly ever noticed it.” She shrugged. “I didn’t even know it was missing. You could have taken it for all I know.”
I ignored that dig, but I wanted to beat my head against the wall. Or maybe Lisa’s head. Not enough to hurt her, of course, but maybe just enough to gently knock some sense into her. Yeah, right.
I couldn’t believe she was talking to me like this when all I was doing was trying to help. Deep breath. “Maybe you should tell John the truth. That J.D. didn’t have any money, and then all of a sudden, he did.”
“And maybe you should mind your own business.”
“Lisa, what was Larry so upset about earlier?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Since when is my relationship with my husband your business?”
“I. . .” It really wasn’t often that I was at a loss for words.
“Look. Thanks for stopping by, but I’ll get Daddy to hire a professional. Someone who can prove that I’m innocent. Not an amateur sleuth that got lucky a couple of times.” She wiggled her fingers. “So, see ya.”
“Right. Well I have to go to work now.” I gritted my teeth and counted to ten as I walked out the door, taking care not to slam it.
*****
*****
Chapter Six
Happier’n a dead pig in the sunshine
“Jenna, can you call Susan and see if she can come in today?” Carly stirred a steaming pot of soup and nodded toward the list of waitress’s phone numbers on the wall by the phone . “Alice called. She and Harvey won’t be in, so I had to put Marco as host.” She turned toward me. “I hope he can do it. Do you think he can?”
“Sure. Leading people to a table should be easier than taking orders and delivering food.” I reached back to tie the apron around my waist. “Are Harvey and Alice sick?”
“Alice said John asked Harvey to come by the station and answer some questions.” She dipped some of the soup into a small bowl and blew on it. “Alice sounded really upset. She said she was going with him.” Carly sipped a spoonful of the liquid and frowned. “Taste this.”
“Wonder what they wanted with Harvey?” I stared at the soup. That conversation I’d overheard between Harvey and Alice the night of the murder had not been about soup. The question was, what had it been about?
“I’ve no idea. But I guess you’re going to try and find out.” Carly added some garlic powder to the pot of soup. “I don’t think John will tell you.”
I ignored her allusion to my curiosity and called Susan who agreed to come in and do an earlier shift. When I hung up, I quickly got into my apron and hit the floor running.
“Welcome to Down Home Diner, ma’am.” Marco’s voice floated to the table where I was writing an elderly couple’s order. I glanc
ed up in time to see a flamboyantly dressed woman pat Marco’s cheek.
Her voice didn’t float. It trumpeted across the packed diner. “Well, sweet thing, you can welcome me anytime, anywhere.”
Marco blanched, grabbed a menu, and fairly raced to an empty table in my section.
“Your waitress will be right with you.” He wiped his brow and headed back to the front of the diner, making strange grimaces in my direction. I assumed he meant, “We’ve got a live one here.” I finished the order I was taking and excused myself.
As I walked to the table, I studied the new arrival. She was one of those people whose age isn’t readily apparent, but I guessed her to be somewhere in her forties. Her jet black hair was teased within an inch of its life and piled high on her head. Her eyes were so heavily mascaraed I was surprised she could blink. More noticeable was her dress, or lack thereof. We had the standard No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service sign on our door. We might need to revise that.
She had on a skirt and a top, of sorts. The white top was the scantiest of halters, and the skirt, black leather, was short enough to qualify as micro-mini. Her white boots were straight out of the sixties. Beside her brilliantly red lips was a beauty mark. A tattooed snake crawled up her right arm and coiled lovingly around her neck. As I approached the table, she gave me a cheerful grin.
“Welcome to Down Home Diner. What can I get you to drink?” I gave her my standard opening as I pulled my order pad and pencil from my pocket.
“I’ll have a beer in a bottle. The best you’ve got. I’m celebrating.”
“Sorry, ma’am. This is a dry county. We don’t serve alcoholic beverages. But we have really good sweet tea or lemonade.”
“What kinda burg have I landed in?” she asked loudly. “A gal can’t even get a drink?” She lowered her voice slightly, “C’mon, sweet cakes, I know you got the good stuff stashed somewheres. Just bring it in a tea glass. I won’t rat you out. It ain’t every day your ship comes in, but mine did, and I aim to celebrate.”
“I’m really sorry. We don’t have anything alcoholic on the premises. But our tea is worth celebrating. Tell you what. I’ll bring you a glass on the house. If you don’t like it, you won’t be out anything.” Carly gave away pies to police officers; surely she wouldn’t mind if I gave tea to keep the peace.
“Well, the price is right. Go ahead.”
As I returned with her tea, I noticed others in the café were eyeing our unusual customer with interest. She was returning the favor, meeting glances all around the room. I rattled off the specials, and she ordered, but as I turned to hand the order in, she wrapped long fingers topped with pointed, blood-red nails around my wrist.
“Hang on a minute, honey. Let’s talk.”
“Let me turn your order in.” I gingerly disengaged my wrist. “Then I’ll take a break. That way I can talk without getting jumped by the boss.” I was careful not to say this loud enough for anyone to hear and repeat it to Carly. I really didn’t want to get jumped by my big sis. I handed the woman’s order through the window to the kitchen and returned to her table. As I sat, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the small purse she had slung around her shoulder. I must’ve looked as shocked as I felt, since there were No Smoking signs on every wall.
“What? No smoking here, either?” She shook her head as she replaced the pack. “Man. What do you people do for entertainment?”
“Well, we eat a lot,” I deadpanned, and was rewarded with a loud crack of laughter.
She slapped the table with her open palm. “Girlfriend, you are a riot.”
“What brings you to our little town?”
“Little is the right word. It sure wasn’t to be entertained. Nope. I came on a mission. I am a woman on a pilgrimage, you might say. This little one-horse town is where one of my old mistakes came right. Did that ever happen to you?” She nudged me.
“I don’t know.” I was confused, and it showed.
“Well, I’ll tell ya, sister, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. I ain’t ashamed to say it. But one of my first ones was marrying a weasel. Have you ever done that? You married?”
The kitchen window bell rang. “Not yet.” I walked over to pick up her order then set the full plate in front of her. She continued to talk as I sat back down
“Well, take my advice and steer shy of it. And if you do get married, make sure he ain’t a weasel. My man, Jimmy, he was slick. And sweet-talking? Why, that man could talk the bark off a tree.” She paused to take a gulp of tea. “This tea’s good. Anyhow, he was crooked as a snake. See this snake on my shoulder? I got that after Jimmy and me split up. That’s my reminder not to fall for any more snakes. Yeah, me and Jimmy got married when I was just a girl. Then I found out he wadn’t what you might call honest. No sirree.” She took a large bite of mashed potatoes and gravy and kept talking as she chewed. “But we did one thing right. We made wills. You got a will?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Smart girl. Yep. Me and Jimmy made wills and left all our worldly possessions—don’t that sound fine?—all our worldly possessions to each other. I never thought much about it until a lawyer called me a couple days ago. He told me Jimmy had done cashed in his chips in a little one-horse town nobody’d ever heard of. And I’m thirty thousand dollars richer. Best thing Jimmy Dean Finley ever done for me was die.”
“You mean—? J.D. Finley was your husband?”
“Ex, honey. I divorced him for reasons we needn’t go into, over twenty years ago. But he never changed his will. So I came here on this pilgrimage to see where he bit the dust. And to celebrate.”
A loud clatter jerked my eyes to the kitchen area. Debbie stood in the midst of breakage, and I noted absently that her customer must’ve ordered strawberry shortcake. She looked as if she had been in a wreck, splashed with strawberry juice to her knees.
“I’m sure glad that little lady wadn’t bringing my food.” My companion winked at me. “I b’lieve you guys need to invest in some superglue for her. Stick that tray to her hands.”
“Excuse me a second,” I murmured and rushed to help Debbie and Marco clean up the mess. Only Debbie didn’t stick around. She simply turned and walked to the kitchen. But not before I saw the tears streaming down her face. Either Carly was going to have to find out what was bugging Debbie or buy unbreakable dishes. After we cleaned everything up, I went back to the table.
“Ain’t you Mr. Clean? With hair, of course,” she remarked sardonically. “That little gal needs to find herself another job. She ain’t cut out for waitressing. I oughta know. I been one my own self. Along with lots of other things.” A loud bark of laughter followed. “What time do you get offa work, missy?”
“Me?” My mind was blank—or numb.
“Yes, you.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Hello? You do work here, don’t you?”
“Oh. Yes.” I glanced at my watch. “In about twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t I wait for you outside under one of them big shade trees? I need somebody to show me around town, and I don’t know a soul here. Unless you count poor ole Jimmy’s, and that ain’t much help.” Another roar of laughter.
I debated. A little of this woman went a long way. On the other hand, she’d known J.D. in his youth. Perhaps she could shed some light on who would kill him, or at least, why.
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot in a few minutes,” I answered.
“Good girl.” She left a five-dollar bill on the table and gave me a wink. “That’s to celebrate my good fortune. I believe in spreading it around.”
As she exited, followed by many fascinated gazes, I went to the kitchen to see if Carly needed help in view of Debbie’s departure. To my surprise, Debbie, scrubbed clean of strawberries, though still somewhat stained, was dishing up food, keeping her eyes fixed on her work. I went back to waiting tables until the noon surge had subsided then hung up my apron.
I stepped into the kitchen and quickly filled Carly in on my new acquaintance.
/> “You’re going for a ride with a stranger?” she asked, obviously puzzled.
I shrugged. “You’d just have to meet her. I need to find out as much as I can about J.D., and I think she can help me.”
“Keep your cell phone on.”
“I will,” I called and headed out to meet my new acquaintance.
“I was about to come hunting you, honey. But I figured you couldn’t get past me unless you went out the back door and hid behind the Dumpster.” I shivered. The Dumpster was the last place I would ever hide from anyone.
“Hop in this roadster of mine, and let’s see what this little town has to offer.” She opened the passenger door of an older Mustang, fire-engine red and well kept. I climbed in, and she ran around and sank into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and revved the engine. I glanced around. All I needed was for John or Seth to run up and write a ticket. I’d never live it down. But we got safely away in a spurt of loose gravel and headed down the main drag of Lake View.
“We get lots of tourists, Mrs. Finley,” I began.
She began to look around, even craning her neck to look in the backseat. I clung to the seat belt strap with white knuckles as the car careened from one lane to the other.
She brayed another of her loud laughs.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I was looking for Mrs. Finley. If you meant me, my name’s Jolene. I ain’t been ‘Mrs.’ nothin’ since I was a kid. And I took my maiden name after Jimmy Dean left me. Yep, Jolene Highwater, that’s me. Now, little lady, what’s your name?”
“Jenna Stafford.” I waited a beat, although I doubted Jolene would be the type to watch the Olympics, much less remember one has-been from years ago. Apparently I was right.
“Pleased to meetcha, honey.” She removed her right hand from the steering wheel and stuck it out. I shook it and released it quickly, hoping she’d return it and her attention to where they belonged. She noticed my nervousness and laughed again. She certainly was a happy woman. “Jimmy always said I was the worst kinda driver, a polite one. When I talk to someone, I look at ’em.”
Down Home and Deadly Page 6
