by Jessica Beck
“Remind me never to buy one of your houses,” Les said.
“No worries there. You couldn’t afford one,” Thad shot back.
“I’ve got more money than you think.”
“I know, everything’s green in your line of work,” Thad said, and then he started in on his breakfast. Les must have known better than to engage him while he was eating. Besides, he didn’t have any reason to reply when I put his meal down in front of him soon after, extra bacon included. Both men were too busy eating to jaw at each other, which was fine with me.
“Hey, Bryson,” I said as one of our suspects slid onto the stool. “What can I get you?”
“How about coffee to start?” he suggested.
“You have to order food or give up your seat,” Les said to him as he pointed his fork in Bryson’s direction. “That’s the rule around here.”
“Nobody’s waiting, Les,” I said. I was in no hurry to have Bryson leave, and I was willing to break one of my own rules to make sure that it didn’t happen.
Bryson shook his head. “No, he’s right. How about a gravy biscuit and two scrambled eggs?”
“Coming right up,” I said. It was an easy order to prepare, and as soon as I delivered it, I was going to do a little different kind of grilling.
I didn’t have to, though.
Les did it for me.
“That was a lucky break for you, what happened to Chester,” Les said as he stared hard at Bryson. Les and Chester had been good friends, so his cutting remark didn’t surprise me, nor did it catch Bryson off guard.
“I didn’t particularly like him, that’s true enough, but I didn’t kill the man,” Bryson said icily as he met Lester’s gaze.
“Come on, Bryson, it went deeper than that, and there’s no use trying to hide it. He beat you out of one too many land deals, and to beat all that, you started dating his ex-wife. That’s about as nasty a rivalry as it gets, if you ask me.”
“Nobody did, though, did they?” He sat there for a few seconds without another word until he suddenly spoke again. “Julia didn’t have anything to do with my competition with Chester. Business was business. You’re also forgetting that I beat Chester plenty of times myself. He may have won the last one, but I had my share of victories, too.”
“The business stuff I’ll buy,” Thad said, putting in his own two cents. “But dating the man’s ex just to get back at him is dirty dealing in anyone’s book.”
“Have you idiots seen Julia Crane?” Bryson asked. “She’s beautiful, smart, and funny. Chester was a fool to let her go, but I wasn’t complaining. His loss was my gain.”
“So he did have something to do with you dating her,” Les said. The two men, bantering with each other earlier, had now united in going after Bryson.
“He introduced us,” Bryson said, his face beginning to redden. “Did you two hens come here to cluck or to eat?” His voice was growing louder with each syllable, and I could see hints of his temper rising to the surface. This was a lot more interesting than what I would have been able to get out of him.
Bryson’s raised voice lifted a few eyebrows, and not just from his two combatants. He must have realized how he was beginning to look to everyone else, because his next words were spoken in a much calmer fashion. “Guys, I understand you’re feeling pain from the loss of your friend, but I didn’t do it.”
In a soft voice that I nearly missed, Les said, “So you say.”
Was Bryson going to react, or was he going to let it go?
I glanced back and saw that he was mulling it over, and then his shoulders slumped a little. Apparently he was going to let it go.
Too bad. I would have loved to see him in his full rage, because that’s what it would have taken to hit Chester in the back of the head with my favorite frying pan, as far as I was concerned.
I plated Bryson’s meal and delivered it, along with the check.
He nodded his thanks, and then he dug in, clearly happy to have an excuse not to carry on those particular conversations.
Now was the opportunity to ask him the last question that my brother hadn’t been able to get an answer for.
“Sorry about the guys,” I told Bryson as sympathetically as I could manage. “It’s understandable that everyone’s talking about what happened to Chester, especially around here.”
“I get it,” Bryson said between bites, “but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t,” Les said.
Bryson chose to ignore him again, which I thought was a pretty sound policy.
“We’ve all been sharing when we saw him last,” I said. “I myself spoke to him here at the store the day before yesterday. How about you?” I stood there like a statue, not caring if anything on the griddle was burning. I wanted an answer, and I wasn’t moving until I got one.
“I already told your brother that I saw him that day myself,” Bryson admitted.
“Really? What did you two chat about?” I asked before Les or Thad could chime in. Since neither one of them was on my list of suspects, I didn’t care what either man had to add to the conversation. The details Bryson had given my brother about his last conversation with the murder victim had been pretty limited, so I wanted to follow up to see if I could get anything more out of him.
“I ran into him out in your parking lot, as a matter of fact,” Bryson finally admitted.
“What did you talk about? Did you discuss the land deal he beat you out on?”
“As a matter of fact, business didn’t occupy our entire conversation. It was mostly about Julia.”
This was starting to get interesting, to more folks than just me. Everyone eating at the bar suddenly got quiet as we waited to hear Bryson’s answer. “That’s not what you told my brother. What did he say about her?” I asked him.
“Can you blame me? Julia was standing right there. Anyway, Chester told me to back off, that she was too good for me, and that I’d better do as he said, or I’d regret it.”
“Are you saying that the murder victim threatened you the day before he was killed?” I asked him.
Clearly Bryson hadn’t thought things through that far. He’d been trying to make himself into the victim in our eyes, but he’d failed at it rather spectacularly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s sure what it sounded like to me,” Les chimed in. “What did you do, decide to take him out before he could come after you? Why’d you have to hit him from behind, Bryson? Surely he at least deserved to see it coming.”
“I can see here that I’m doomed no matter what I say,” Bryson said angrily. “You people have already tried and sentenced me for Chester’s murder, so what good are my protests going to do me?” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and threw it on the counter, though his meal was only partially eaten.
“You need to pay Pat up front,” I said.
“For what I’m leaving, you can do it yourself,” Bryson said, and then he stormed out the back, not even bothering to go through the front, where my brother was waiting for him.
“What was that all about?” Pat asked as he hurried toward me.
“Bryson had to go all of a sudden,” I said as I handed my brother the bill and the twenty. “Here you go.”
He glanced at the amount I’d written in. “This is way too much.”
“Put what’s left in the jar for the animal shelter,” I said as I started to clean the plates away from Bryson’s spot. It had been an interesting conversation in more ways than one, and I wondered if any of our other suspects would happen by the Iron before we closed up for the day. It helped that just about everyone in town had to come by, to check their mail if nothing else.
And if they came in, either Pat or I would make them pay with an answer to at least one of our questions before we’d let them get away.
We were finished with our breakfast rush, and the early lunch crowd was just starting to make its way into the Iron. I always served breakfast whenever I was open, but I wouldn’t serv
e my lunch specials before 10:45 a.m. My regulars knew that, and they would never try to order early, but sometimes I had to educate newcomers. Any order would be valid now though, since it was five minutes before eleven. I’d checked on my Dutch ovens a little earlier, and the food was finished and simmering away nicely, ready and waiting. That was one of the great things about cast iron; I’d been able to turn the ovens off, and the heat retained by the iron was enough to keep things nice and toasty as diners began to order their meals.
“Is this seat taken?” someone asked as my back was turned to the bar facing the grill.
“If it’s empty, it’s yours,” I said, and then I turned to see who was talking. It was the attorney Pat and I had met earlier. I knew he had a long fancy name, but Rob was all that I could remember without digging out his business card. “Welcome back. Is this business or pleasure?”
“Mostly pleasure at the moment. Chester’s spoken so highly of your food that I had to give it a try for myself while I was in town. What’s on the lunch menu today?”
“We have our standard offerings of hamburgers, hot dogs, and grilled cheese. The special is roasted chicken, potatoes, carrots, and onions, all made in a cast iron Dutch oven.”
“What would you recommend?” he asked.
“Everything’s good,” I answered with a grin, “but in my mind, you can’t beat the chicken. I use a spice mix I get from a guy up in New York State, and it’s outstanding.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have, and some sweet tea as well. I assume that it’s on the menu, too, am I right?”
“Would we be in the South if it weren’t?” I asked as I poured a glass for him. He took a long sip and then let out a satisfied acknowledgment.
“Perfect. It’s just the way I like it,” he said.
I pulled one of my Dutch ovens out of the left oven and dished him out a nice portion of chicken and vegetables. Of all the things I prepared for lunch, this meal was one of my favorites.
As I put the plate in front of him, he took in the aromas and smiled broadly. “It smells like paradise.”
“If you think it smells good, wait until you taste it,” I answered.
I had other orders, but I wanted to see how he reacted to his first bite. From the look of sheer pleasure on his face, I assumed that it was a hit.
We chatted a little as I served my other customers, and when he was finished, I offered, “I’ve got some banana pudding for dessert, and some cherry tart cake that was made fresh in cast iron yesterday.”
“Why the fascination with cast iron?” he asked me. “Not that I’m complaining. That was unbelievably good.”
“Pat and I started collecting it when we were young, and we were both cooking on campfires before we could drive. There’s something about iron that makes just about everything better. If I have a choice, I use cast iron over any other cookware.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting too much iron in your diet?” he asked after taking a sip of tea.
“My doctor knows how I eat, and he laughs whenever I have blood work done. My iron is slightly elevated, but it’s still better than loading up on vitamins I don’t need through pills and supplements.”
“I have to admit that I really like the delivery system,” Rob said. He looked around and saw that the crowd at my bar was tapering off. “Annie, do you have a minute to spare to talk to me?”
“That, and not much more. Is it about Chester?” I wasn’t eager to talk about my late friend in front of anyone else, but stepping away from the range was problematic.
“Actually, this is for me. I’m looking for a nice piece of land I can build a cabin to escape on, and I was wondering if you could help. I heard that you lived in one yourself, so I figured you might be able to point me in the right direction.”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked him. Had the attorney been asking around about me? Did that have something to do with Chester, or did he have other, more personal reasons in mind?
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that it was a secret,” he said with a smile.
“It’s not. It’s just that small towns have folks who like to talk.” I had to stop being so paranoid. “Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look like the outdoorsy type.”
“Don’t let the suit fool you,” he said. “My uncle had a cabin in the woods where I’m from in West Virginia, and some of my happiest summers were spent there. I’ve been looking for a good place to build one of my own, and this area is just about perfect for what I want.”
“You said that you wanted it as an escape, so is it going to be a full-time residence or just a place to get away to on weekends?”
He shrugged. “To start with, I’m keeping my job, but eventually I hope to move there full time.”
“Are you looking for anything in particular on the land? Streams will cost you more, and lake frontage even more than that.”
Rob shook his head. “I just want to be surrounded by trees in the mountains. I don’t need much more than five or ten acres, but I’d like to feel as though I’m out in the wilderness alone. I have more than my share of cell phones, television, and traffic in my daily life, so I’d love a place to get away.”
Here was a man after my own heart. “I might be able to help. Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you.”
There was something else on his mind—I could see it in his eyes. Was he going to ask me out? “Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked him as I cleared away his plate and left him his bill.
“I know it’s asking a lot, but is there any way I could see the cabin where you live? It might help me plan my own place.”
“Isn’t that putting the cart before the horse?” I asked him. “After all, you don’t even have any land yet.”
Was that disappointment flickering across his gaze? “Sorry. You’re right.”
I felt bad about refusing him. “Maybe it would help you after all. Can you come out tonight around eight? I have some things to do after work, but I should be free by then.”
His smile reminded me of a little boy’s grin. “That would be great.”
I wrote the directions down on a napkin and handed it to him. “I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
As he walked up front to pay his bill, I couldn’t help but watch him. I thought our conversation had been private until Cora Yount looked up from her book four stools down and spoke up. “He’s a live one, Annie. It looks like you’ve got yourself a date, young lady.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t hide the hint of a grin. “You read too many romance novels, Cora.”
She grinned at me. “That’s impossible. There’s no such thing as too many. You want some pointers from a worldly old gal willing to share?”
I laughed out loud. “Thanks, but I’m sure that I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Suit yourself, but trust me, it’s your loss,” she said with a smile, and then she turned back to her book.
I found myself getting excited about the prospect of showing the attorney around my land and my cabin, but I knew that I might be reading too much into the situation. Maybe he was just coming out to see my setup and nothing else.
Then again, a girl could always hope, couldn’t she?
It had been too long since I’d had any romance in my life.
Maybe the attorney was exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER 17: PAT
Despite what had happened the day before, things were slowly beginning to get back to normal at the Iron. Annie was at the grill, Edith was at her post wrapping up the day’s business at the post office, and Skip was scanning the shelves of my part of the place searching for something to restock. One of our customers had once called us Maple Crest’s very own mini-superstore, but I didn’t take offense. After all, the town, probably even the county, was just too small to support one of those huge twenty-four-hour-a-day operations, which suited me jus
t fine. Annie and I had found the perfect niche in a place populated enough to need us but not large enough for someone else to try to come in and take away our customer base. I was starting to feel pretty good about our situation again, which was a sign that something bad was about to happen.
And sure enough, not five minutes later, it did.
“Patrick, we need to talk,” my sister Kathleen said when she came into the Iron that afternoon.
“In what capacity?” I asked her, since she was still in uniform.
“My official one, unfortunately,” she answered tersely. “I believe that you and I are about to have ourselves a problem.”
It was never good when my older sister started talking like a character from an old-fashioned crime novel, so I braced myself for the onslaught. Her use of my full first name was never a good sign, either.
“I can’t imagine why that might be,” I said, trying to keep it as casual as I could, given what Annie and I had been up to. I’d been afraid of something like this happening from the very beginning, and it appeared that it had taken Kathleen less time than I’d anticipated to get wind of what my twin and I were up to.
“Oh, I bet if you take a second and think about it real hard, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
Was she waiting for me to confess before she actually confronted me? Surely she knew me better than that. It hadn’t worked when we’d been kids, and it wasn’t about to succeed now. If she wanted to wait me out, she was in for a long afternoon.
“Sorry, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I said as I started straightening up the counter where the register sat among a dozen impulse-purchase items ready to be grabbed up by our customer base on their way out the door. It was amazing how much extra income that one little trick generated over the course of a month.
“Patrick Marsh, you may think this is funny, but you need to realize here and now that I’m dead serious.”
