Diner Impossible (A Rose Strickland Mystery)

by Austin, Terri L.

  “We’re not,” I said. “Tell me about your bartender.”

  “Jason? He’s okay. Has worked here on and off for the last three or four years. That’s not unusual. Like I said, employees come and go.”

  “How well did he know Delia?” Roxy asked.

  “I don’t know. They worked here at the same time, why?”

  “He was at the funeral home today. What’s his last name?”

  “Hall. And if he was at Delia’s funeral, it surprises me. I didn’t realize they were that close.”

  “Can you bring him in here?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Roxy said, popping her gum. “We’ve got questions. And he’d better have answers.”

  Oh boy.

  Timothy squinted one eye. He didn’t like being bossed around. He had his own little kingdom going here, where he reigned with a freckly fist.

  When he banged out of the room, Roxy stared up at the water-stained acoustic ceiling. “So did Sullivan buy this place just so you could question the manager?”

  “I think that was probably a good excuse. You know he uses clubs like this for his gambling crap.”

  “Maybe. But it was still kind of a sweet gesture. Sweet for Sullivan, I mean.”

  The door opened and Jason Hall strode in. He crossed his arms and stood at the door, making us wrench our necks to look at him.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  I stood. “Have a seat.”

  He lifted one shoulder and glanced away. “Don’t want to.”

  “Sit down, dumbass,” Roxy said. “You’re going to answer some questions or we’ll tell the new owner you’re being a dick.”

  He gave her a once over. “Tell him whatever the hell you want.” He stormed out, slamming the door even louder than Timothy had.

  “What a charmer.” I shoved my notebook in my bag and took a quick peek in Timothy’s desk drawers. I found out from the meds he had stashed there that he had heartburn and was possibly constipated. Nothing Delia-related, though.

  When Timothy returned, he was pissed off. “What did you say to Jason? He just walked out and now I’m shorthanded.”

  “He was uncooperative.” I hoisted my hobo bag up on my shoulder. “What do you know about him?”

  Timothy shrugged. “Nothing about his personal life. He may not always be polite, but he shows up on time.”

  “Do you have his home address?” I asked. That bartender knew something, I could feel it.

  Timothy moved to his desk and tapped on his computer. Then he wrote on a sheet of paper, ripped it from the pad, and handed it to me. “When you see him, tell him to get his ass back to work.”

  “Thanks for your time.”

  “See ya, Tim,” Roxy said. In the bright hallway, she turned to me. “Think Timothy was telling us everything?”

  “Maybe. He seemed pretty intimidated by Sullivan and pretty defensive about sleeping with an employee.”

  She moved the wad of gum around in her mouth. “I’ve got news for you, Rose. Everyone’s intimidated by Sullivan. Everyone but you. And maybe he was just defensive about sleeping with a murdered employee.”

  “Good point. We’re going to have to make time for a personal visit with Jason Hall.”

  “What a treat.”

  We walked to the door and strode into the club. The music had stopped and a loud wave of voices washed over the room. As we weaved back to our table, I halted at the sight before me. “Awww, crap.”

  Roxy, who’d been fiddling with the lace on her bodice, glanced up. “What the hell?”

  The middle of the dance floor had been cleared. To one side, the Klingons congregated, their stance aggressive, their narrowed eyes pinned on their opponents, ready to strike.

  Across from the KAWs, the SPuRTs, dressed in Next Generation uniforms, stood at attention, arms at their sides, their chins angled toward the starry ceiling.

  Two opposing forces, facing each other across the battlefield. Spectators circled round them.

  “They’d better not start fighting,” I said. “But if they do, I’ll grab Ax. You get Ma and Janelle out of here.”

  Roxy nodded. “Got it.”

  Ma and Janelle shoved their way through the crowd to stand next to us.

  Ma hiked up her elastic waist pants, her eyes bugging behind her frames. “The Fleeties found out we were here.”

  I kept my eyes trained on them, in case someone started throwing down. “How?”

  “Brian posted a picture online and the SPuRTs showed up about ten minutes ago. They’re demanding satisfaction.”

  “These are grown ass men and women. They shouldn’t be fighting like kids,” I said.

  Janelle stopped sipping from her pink cocktail and leaned over. “Oh, they’re not gonna fight. This shit’s about to get real, y’all. The Trekkies are having themselves a motherfucker of a dance off.

  Chapter 17

  I closed my eyes for a moment. “Are you serious?”

  “Oh yeah, toots. K’nera said it’s on like Donkey Con.”

  “That’s Donkey Kong,” Roxy said.

  Ma nodded. “This is so thrilling.”

  Quiet descended as one of the Klingons, Korax, if memory served, stomped to the middle of the floor, right beneath the disco ball. With his eyes on the SPuRTs, he raised one finger in the air to cue the DJ. A thumping base, scratching vinyl, and a blaring old school song by Run DMC provided the soundtrack to one of the most mindboggling scenes I’d ever witnessed.

  With his legs jerking back and forth, his arms pumping at the elbow to propel him forward, Korax’s long, frizzy black wig breezed across his shoulders. He was actually performing The Roger Rabbit. Now this was exactly like a middle school dance.

  “Alien boy can bring it,” Roxy said.

  When he finally ran out of space, he spun on one foot and threw his hands out toward the Starfleet peeps. “Your mothers have smooth foreheads, SPuRTs.”

  One of the Starfleet crew sauntered forward and taking his spot in the center of the floor, flicked the tip of his nose twice with his thumb.

  As an Eminem song played, he proceeded to do The Running Man for the next three minutes. Once he’d ‘run’ in all four directions, he stopped and crossed his arms. “Suck on that, KAWs.”

  “It’s like 1997 all over again,” Janelle said. “This is just sad.”

  And on it went. We were treated to the Cabbage Patch, the Lawnmower, its bastard child the Shopping Cart, and naturally, the Robot. The dance off was over—and by over, I meant everyone got bored and resumed their lives—when one of the older Fleeties tried to breakdance and wound up with a groin pull. He had to have three of his Starfleet pals help him out of the club.

  The Klingons shouted in victory and remained on the dance floor. Except for Brian who strolled up to Roxy. He grabbed her hand and together they walked back to the table and sat. Ma and Janelle wrangled Skinny Dude for a dance. Axton stood off to the side.

  I moved over to him. “That was something I’ll never forget.”

  He looked up from his phone and grinned. “It was pretty damn awesome. And we kicked the SPuRTs’ asses. No luck on finding the uniform on auction sites though.”

  “I’ll keep trying on my end,” I said. “By the way, Jason Hall. Used to be a bartender here until five minutes ago.”

  “You want personal or professional info?” Axton asked.

  I shrugged. “Whatever seems interesting.”

  “So, both then,” he said with a grin. “You got it, Rosie.” I was never sure how Ax came by his knowledge of people’s personal crap. I didn’t want to ask too many questions. If I ever got myself a decent computer though, I was going to have to learn a few of his tricks.

  At the table, Roxy and Klek/Brian looked like they were
having a moment. I didn’t want to intrude and I didn’t want to dance, so I wandered off to the restroom. Once I checked my lip gloss, I turned my phone back on. I had three missed calls. Not wanting to head back to the noise and heat of the club, I snuck along the hallway to the exit. Thought I’d just stick my head outside for a breath or two of fresh air. I found a large piece of broken concrete lying on the ground next to the door and used it as a doorstop, slipping out into the dark, cold alley. Scrolling through my messages, I called Dane Harker back first.

  “What’s up?” I asked in greeting.

  “I thought we might have dinner tomorrow night. I can give you all the dirt on Delia Cummings and we can catch up.”

  “You know I’m still seeing Sullivan?”

  He sighed. “That’s one of the many things we can talk about over dinner. Along with investigating murders and looking too closely at well-connected police chiefs.”

  “Boy, you make it sound so tempting.”

  He laughed. “Well, I can’t help myself. When I see someone about to leap off a cliff, I like to draw their attention to the danger. Call me a nut.”

  “You’re a nut. And I have class tomorrow night. But I could meet you after for a cup of coffee.”

  “Make it a drink. At Bar None? It’s close to the college campus.”

  Bar None was a bluesy piano joint. I’d never been there, but heard it was nice.

  “Sounds good. I’ll call you when I get out of class. Sometimes it runs a little long.”

  Next I called my mother. “Rosalyn. So nice of you to return my call sometime this week.”

  I let it slide. I usually did. “No problem, Mom.”

  “I’m having tea at the club on Tuesday. Certain people are usually there.”

  I was starting to get chilly without a coat and when the wind picked up, it carried with it a hint of rotting garbage and bodily fluids by way of the dumpster. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to be a little more cryptic.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Charlotte Ashby. Learn to read between the lines. Four o’clock and dress appropriately. Or we will go shopping again.” After issuing the threat, she hung up.

  My last message had been from Officer Hard Ass. Since it was after eight, I felt free to call him back.

  “Miss Strickland, I’ve been waiting. What have you found out?”

  “Not much. But I met Delia’s neighbor today. She heard an argument and saw a man running from Delia’s apartment a week before she died.”

  “Why didn’t she say anything?”

  “She didn’t link it with the murder. I didn’t realize Delia had just moved into that condo only a month ago.”

  “Do you think that’s relevant?” he asked.

  I stamped my freezing foot. “I’m not sure what’s relevant at this point. But I’m working on it.”

  “You need to work faster. There’s talk that Mathers will be questioned soon. And that he’s hired an attorney. One of the partner’s from Dane’s firm.”

  Terrific. Now Dane might not tell me anything at all. He was annoyingly ethical.

  I hung up the phone and turned to reach for the door handle when someone kicked the piece of concrete away, causing the door to shut.

  I pounded on the metal panel. “Hey, open up. Hey.” I banged my fists against the door, I kicked it with my sore feet, I screamed, but no one let me back inside. Finally, I texted Janelle and Roxy and waited another interminable five minutes. The stench was getting to me and I was shivering.

  Giving up on a rescue, I carefully pussyfooted down the alley, careful not to walk on broken glass or mysterious liquids oozing in puddles. As I stepped onto the sidewalk at the front of the club, I noticed movement across the street.

  A figure walked along the sidewalk. A figure that looked very familiar. He strode to the Irish pub directly opposite Club Saturn. An outside light attached to the building highlighted Martin Mathers as he went inside, his black overcoat fluttering behind him like a cape.

  Crap. What was he doing here? I needed to follow him. I didn’t want to, not without Roxy as backup, but what if he was meeting with someone important? What if he led me to a clue? I tapped out another text to her phone and flew across the street as fast as my flats would carry me. I dodged moving cars and two girls, the first holding back the hair of the second as she puked in the gutter. Gross.

  When I opened the heavy wooden door, I was met with delicious warmth and an upbeat Irish tune being belted out by a five-piece band. I ducked behind a man sitting on a barstool and glancing around the room, I played find-that-crooked-police-chief.

  The man whose back I’d plastered myself to spun around. “May I help you?”

  In his late thirties, he had corkscrew curls and thick glasses. “Hi. I’m looking for someone.”

  His eyes flickered left and right. “Will just anyone do?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “My ex.” I rolled my eyes and tried to act all chagrined. “I saw him come in a minute ago and before I knew it, I’d followed him.”

  He nodded. “But you don’t want him to see you?”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “You got me.”

  “Kay, just stick here close to me and together we’ll find him. You want a drink while you look?”

  “No thanks, I’m the sober one tonight.”

  “Sucks to be you.” He spun back around. “What does he look like?”

  “Older than me, trim, tall, handsome. Dark hair.”

  “Like that guy?” He pointed directly across the bar at Martin Mathers. Who just happened to be staring right back at me. Did I have the worst luck ever?

  I swallowed. “Yep, that’s him all right.”

  “He doesn’t look too friendly.”

  I patted the guy’s back and made tracks toward my quarry.

  He’d already spied me, so what else could I do?

  He met me half way, and without speaking, corralled me by the shoulders into the narrow hallway that housed the bathrooms. Before I could even protest, he dragged me into the men’s room. When the two men standing at the urinals continued to pee, Martin barked at them, “Get out. Now.”

  “Hey.” One of the men peered over his shoulder. “Go get laid somewhere else.”

  Mathers let go of my arm long enough to tear his badge from his pocket. I beat a hasty retreat to the door, but his hand shot out and pulled me back. He flashed his shield at the two pissers. “I said get out before I arrest you both for obstructing an investigation.”

  They quickly zipped up and hustled by me. I tried to jerk free and follow them, but his hand was anchored to my arm. Then he shoved me against the door, keeping one palm on the handle to prevent anyone else from walking in. “If Sullivan wants to spy on me, he should send someone less conspicuous.”

  “I’m not here for Sullivan, you tool. I just happened to like Irish music. And this is harassment.”

  His narrowed eyes moved over my face. “You’re lying.” He let go of my arm and leaned his body against mine. I tried pushing him away, but he wouldn’t move. “You’re following me.”

  With his body pressing into me, I got a good whiff of his expensive aftershave. It made my stomach turn. I gulped and tried to calm my heart, which was speeding like a meth head’s after a binge. Now was the time to suck it up and ask the chief some questions. I might never have another opportunity. And if he touched me, Sullivan would destroy him. I could use that as leverage.

  “If you don’t get off me,” I said, “Sullivan will tear you to pieces. Literally.”

  He laughed a little, but eased back a few inches. He was still far too close for comfort, but at least he wasn’t on top of me. “You’ve got his dick wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

  “Is that how it was with you and Delia?”

&nbs
p; The amusement on his face died and something scary and evil moved behind his eyes.

  “What the hell business is it of yours?”

  I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’m trying to find out who killed her. Everyone’s saying you did it.”

  He continued to look at me without blinking.

  “Is it true?”

  A cold smile pulled at his lips. “If it is, you should be pissing yourself right now.”

  “Who else had motive? Convince me you’re innocent.”

  “I don’t have to convince you of jack shit. But do me a favor, sweetheart. Sullivan hasn’t been taking my calls. Tell him that if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Including him.”

  That was my biggest fear. That Sullivan would some way be implicated in all this. Yes, he was a criminal, but he was my criminal.

  I licked my dry lips. “Who else are you naming in this little drama? David Ashby? Did you know he was screwing Delia, too?”

  Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he yanked my head upward. “Stay out of my life, do you hear me? You tell Sullivan to call me or he’s finished. Think about how vulnerable you’ll be without a protector, bitch.”

  His almost colorless, dead eyes scared the hell out of me. I believed he was capable of killing Delia Cummings. And never giving it a second thought.

  He dropped his hand and stepped backward so that I had just enough room to open the door. With my heart in my throat, I reached for the handle and raced out of the men’s room. Back in the bar area, the band had finished a song and the crowd erupted in applause.

  I rubbed at my chin, hoping it wouldn’t bruise. I wasn’t telling Sullivan about this little talk with Mathers. He’d get too angry. Beating the ever-loving crap out of the Chief of Police was a no-no. Even if Sullivan did have enough dirt on Mathers to plant a farm.

  As I made my way through the crowd, I saw David Ashby sitting at a table. I stared at him until his gaze met mine.

  Now would be a perfect time to confront him, ask him about his affair with Delia. But one hasty glance over my shoulder struck me with fear. Martin had stepped out of the hallway. I needed to get the hell out of here before he could get his hands on me a second time.