Murder on Wheels

by Lynn Cahoon

I nodded but snuck a glance over toward the table where my best friend sat. She didn’t look too happy that I’d interrupted her date night, either. This had to blow over. At least, I hoped it would.

  I heard Greg clear his throat and turned my attention back to him. “What are you going to order?”

  As I reviewed the menu, I muttered, “First thing I’m getting is a frozen strawberry margarita.”

  Greg chuckled and nodded. “I figured. Look, she’ll come around. You two are as close as sisters. Sometimes sisters fight.”

  And sometimes families broke up over stupid stuff. I didn’t say my thought aloud, just nodded like I believed him. I scanned the menu. On page five, there was a special category, Gluten-Free. I turned the menu over and pointed to the listings. “Can you believe the food fads going around? I mean, I knew there were people with allergies, but it’s becoming such a thing. Austin has the dessert truck, this place has a listing of gluten-free foods, what’s next?”

  “Businesses are realizing they can increase profits by catering to people who want or need a certain menu. Austin thought the food truck would have paid for itself in less than a year. He’d had inquiries about doing catering for different events even before he opened. They saw the truck and called the bike shop, wondering who owned it.” Greg went back to reading his own menu. “I’m surprised you don’t have a mini gluten-free menu for the shop.”

  “Believe me, I’m looking into it. I’ve had a lot of people mention how excited they were that the food truck was opening. I didn’t want to tell them it might not.” I set the menu down, having made my dinner selections. “Do you think Austin will open now?”

  Greg shook his head. “This was Kacey’s project. Austin doesn’t have the drive to work that hard. You know he rarely keeps his shop open except for the weekends. Are you thinking about the truck?”

  I hadn’t been, but now that Greg had brought it up, I wondered if I could nab the truck this time. Aunt Jackie and I had tried to buy it last summer, thinking that Diamond Lille’s was our only competition, before Austin had swooped in with a cash offer Homer Bell couldn’t turn down. The good news was that business decision had gotten Homer banned from eating at Lille’s for his lifetime or whenever Lille calmed down, which could be longer. I realized the waitress had arrived, and she and Greg were staring at me, waiting for my order.

  I ordered the feast plate, which had both lobster and crab along with fried shrimp and as a bonus, mashed potatoes. I added a side salad to give me at least one veggie count for the meal. When she’d left, I looked at Greg. “I guess I’ll talk to Aunt Jackie about the truck. We’d have to paint it again, but she was all into the idea that we could take CBM on the road to the local festivals. She’s been looking for a truck we could afford since we lost this one.”

  “You could buy it out of the Miss Emily fund.” Greg waited for the server to drop off our drinks and a loaf of hot sourdough bread with whipped butter on the side.

  I ripped off a piece of bread and smoothed butter on it. “That’s what Aunt Jackie keeps saying. Honestly, I’m a little scared to dump all of that money into the business. What if people stop drinking coffee? I’d be bankrupt.”

  “I don’t think people will stop drinking coffee. Besides, you have the bookstore side as well as the desserts and your touristy things.” He took a sip of his iced tea. “Too bad we can’t stay over tonight. I’d love one of those margaritas.”

  “We’ll have to make plans for a weekend once the investigation is over.” I took a sip of the strawberry delight. “You realize people are buying most of their books online now? That’s another reason I don’t want to keep all of my eggs in one basket.”

  “You don’t sell to the normal reader. Your book buyers are either tourists who need a book to read right away, or locals who are part of your book clubs or who haven’t gone to the e-reader craze. I don’t think you need to be worrying about this.” He took his own slice of bread. “What does Jackie say? I’m sure she’s examined the numbers closely.”

  “We’re up from the last year, and the year before. But you know how things go.” I’d read all of the reports my aunt had shoved in front of me in support of her argument to expand, but my gut told me it was too much, and too soon. I watched as the server delivered the shrimp nachos and then I filled my little appetizer plate. Waving a chip at Greg, I continued. “Besides, maybe I want to use that money for something else, like a new house once the wall gets certified. I may need to turn Miss Emily’s house into some sort of tourist attraction, and then I’d be homeless.”

  Greg nodded. “The mission wall project may take over your life, I’ll give you that. But for now, you need to worry about today and not all these maybes. You’ll be frozen and not wanting to take any action if you don’t stop worrying.”

  I thought about what he said as I consumed the chips and cheese and baby shrimp on my plate. My aunt had made the same argument. Maybe I should be more open to considering buying the truck.

  We didn’t talk about the issue any more that night. I tried to put my worries on the back burner and enjoy my time with Greg. We’d finished planning our next trip to the city and all the things we wanted to do when his phone beeped. I watched him read the text as I sipped on the coffee we’d ordered with a couple of blueberry shortcakes for dessert. When he sighed, I knew our evening was over. “Work?”

  “Sorry. The DA wants me to go over the case with him tonight. He’s planning on filing charges in the morning.” Greg put his phone away after texting an answer and finished the last couple bites of his dessert. “Looks like I’ll have a long night after I drop you off at the house.”

  “Charges? Against who? I didn’t think you had enough evidence against anyone for Kacey’s death.” I finished my coffee, knowing that we’d be leaving sooner than later.

  Greg waved the waitress down and gave her his credit card for our bill before he answered, “We didn’t until we got the background report on Austin.”

  “I don’t understand.” I slipped on my jacket and snagged my purse.

  Greg signed the slip and stood, holding out his hand to help me out of my chair. “Dustin Austin isn’t his real name. They found an old report attached to his fingerprints. He’s been hiding under an assumed name for the last forty years, and he’s wanted for questioning by the FBI.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I was at Amy’s desk with a box of cookies at five after eight the next morning. She stared at me when I walked in. “Hey, I thought you might need these when I heard about Austin. How is he? Have you talked to him?”

  She watched me set the box on her desk, then shook her head. “Your boyfriend won’t let anyone talk to him. Officially, he’s not being charged with anything, just held for questioning. I’ve called his lawyer, Wilson, and he’s coming in from the city. I guess he’s some big shot who had a case on trial and had to ask for a stay so he could come save Austin.”

  “I’m glad he has someone good.” I didn’t sit, not knowing if we were really talking again, or if Amy was too upset about Austin to be mad at me. “So, did you know about this FBI thing?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I don’t even believe it’s true. Austin wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, what could they want to talk to him about? He’s been living here for ten years running a bike rental shop. What kind of criminal runs a bike rental shop?” Amy was close to tears now. “The guy has been like a father to me since I moved here. He’s always fixing up something in the apartment to make life easier, or just to make me smile. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Look, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. I mean, you don’t think he killed Kacey, do you?”

  “Of course not.” Amy’s voice hit a pitch I hadn’t ever heard from her. “Austin is the sweetest, kindest man in the world. He loved Kacey, I know it.”

  “Like he loved Sadie?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Amy’s eyes flared at me, and I knew the cookies weren’t going to make up for my second mistake in less than a
week. I’d never known Amy to be this sensitive about things.

  “You can leave any time.” Amy didn’t even look at me; instead, she focused on her computer.

  Now I sat down. “Look, I didn’t mean to suggest that Austin is guilty of murder. He just wasn’t very up front and honest with Sadie when they were dating. Even you can’t argue that point.”

  Amy gave me a slight nod, and instead of shutting up, like I should have, I kept going. “So, do you know anything about his past? Did he say where he was born, or where he went to school? Anything?”

  This time Amy did look at me. “Are you going to try to help him? Or do you just want to put the last nail in his coffin?”

  “If Austin is innocent, I want to know who killed Kacey. I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice. She deserves for her murderer to be caught.” What I didn’t add was that if it was Austin, he needed to rot in hell.

  She leaned back in her chair. “He told me he grew up in a small town back East. His dad was a minister and his mom stayed at home. They were one of those old religious sects, maybe Quaker? I’m not sure he ever said, but I got that feeling. I know he was against the war, but he never said if he had to serve or if he had been drafted.”

  “The Vietnam War? He was hiding from being in the service?” I’d remembered seeing the history videos of the anti-war protests, but if Austin was a Quaker, I thought they were pacifists. “What else did he say?”

  “I don’t know if he really did get drafted, I just know he was very anti-government and had a fear of authority figures. I saw him disappear into the back every time Toby would drive by at night on his regular patrol. I just thought it was Austin being paranoid.” Amy leaned forward. “You didn’t answer me. Do you think he’s innocent?”

  I stood and looked at my friend, hoping I wouldn’t widen the gap that seemed to be growing between us. “Honestly, I don’t know, but at least there’s something to check out now.”

  As I left City Hall, I walked toward Sadie’s house. She would be in the garage-turned-bakery today, making treats for my shop as well as Diamond Lille’s. I wondered if Austin had ever told her about his past.

  I dialed Greg’s number. He’d dropped me off last night with a kiss and a wave, and I hadn’t heard anything from him this morning. I knew from the gossip grapevine that he and Toby had picked up Austin from his apartment over the bike shop at three that morning. Rumor had it that he was only there for questioning, but my gut told me you didn’t bring someone down in the middle of the night to ask them a few more questions. My call went straight to voice mail.

  “Hey, I’m thinking of you. Make sure you get some sleep.” I clicked off the phone and turned down Sadie’s street. The yards here were all as brown as my own, no rain to replace the sprinkler ban that had been announced through a letter from the city council, but signed by the conservation committee.

  I knocked on the garage door, and then when I didn’t hear a response, I tipped my head inside. Sadie stood with her back to me, using the large, noisy mixer. From the smell of whatever was baking in the oven, it was muffin day. I loved her peanut butter cup muffins, all mixed up with chocolate, peanut butter, and a sweet vanilla batter binding them all together. It was heaven, or as close as I’d come.

  The radio played a song I didn’t recognize, but I knew she was listening to the Christian music station out of Bakerstown. The song was upbeat and positive, singing about having faith and being rewarded with a dance beat. I stepped toward the radio and turned the sound down a few decibels. Sadie flew around and smiled when she saw me just inside the door.

  “Hey, Jill.” Sadie turned off the mixer. “Hold on and let me check the oven real quick. Then we can have coffee and you can tell me you love my new muffin creation, Springtime Orange Cream. Or would you rather have a chocolate peanut butter muffin cup?”

  “Whatever you’re having.” I put my purse on the stool next to mine and climbed up, putting my feet on the rungs. The coffee carafe was already on the counter, so I took a cup off the little tree where Sadie kept the clean ones and poured some. I gave Sadie a free pound of coffee once a month. The hazelnut cream filled my mouth without additional calories or creamer. This was the way coffee was meant to be: dark, rich, full of flavor, and without cream or sugar. Greg felt a little different. He liked his coffee with lots of sugar and French vanilla creamer. Of course, you could argue that he liked his sugar and creamer with a little coffee.

  I watched as Sadie pulled a rack of muffins out of the oven, turning them out on the wire rack she had on a large metal table nearby. She put two muffins on a plate, pulled a knife out of the drawer, and brought over the butter. She set everything on the counter and refilled her own coffee cup.

  She studied me as she sat down, pushing a muffin toward me. “So, what brings you out on a Monday? Typically, you’re lost in a book right now.”

  “You’re right, but I wanted to get here before the rumors reached you.” I broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it in my mouth, the orange flavoring reminding me of the push-ups we used to buy off the ice cream truck. “These are really good.”

  “Thanks. So, what’s the rumor? I hope your honey’s not putting me in the calaboose for killing Kacey.” Sadie shook her head. “Say that five times fast, I dare you.”

  “Not you, Austin.” I watched her face, wondering what her reaction would be. Tears, laughter; at this point, it could be either one.

  She unwrapped her own muffin, ripped it in half, and then loaded it with butter. “I don’t believe he killed Kacey.”

  Her voice was calm, soothing, and absolutely certain. I hated to break her poise, but she needed to know. “There’s something you don’t know about Austin. He’s been living under an assumed name.”

  She nodded. “I knew that. He was almost totally honest with me.” At this her lips curved into a smile so sad it made my heart ache.

  “You knew? Do you know why?” I sipped on my coffee, not wanting to appear too curious.

  “Of course. He was accused of a bombing when he was a kid. But he didn’t do it, I’m sure he was only protecting his girlfriend. Once they’d left the area, he said she confessed and he didn’t know how to fix it, so they ran away to Mexico.” Sadie picked at the crumbs on the table. “They can’t prove anything, not this long after.”

  “So you still think he had nothing to do with Kacey’s death? Maybe she found out his secret?”

  “He told me his secret and I’m still alive. Why would he kill Kacey for finding out something he told me without holding back?”

  I thought about her question, and she was right: It didn’t make sense. “So what was this girlfriend’s name? Did he tell you that?”

  “Mary Jane. That’s all he said.” Sadie sipped on her coffee. “You tell Greg he’s not guilty of this. He’s just an easy scapegoat.”

  I took my notebook out of my purse and wrote down Mary Jane and Mexico. “Did he tell you where he was from?”

  “Deary, Vermont. I guess it’s a little hole-in-the-wall farm town. His folks had a place outside of town, and I think his dad was a pastor at some church.” Sadie had a faraway look in her eyes. “We’d talked about visiting someday, but of course, someday isn’t a day of the week.”

  I kept writing. “What about this Mary Jane? She was from Deary, too?” It couldn’t be too hard to find a Mary Jane from Vermont about Austin’s age. Of course, I still didn’t know his real name.

  “No, they met in college. I guess Austin went his first year, and then dropped out. Too many fun things to do rather than studying, at least that was his story.” Sadie smiled and sipped her coffee. “I got the impression they were big into the anti-war protests and traveled around the country with a bunch of organizers.”

  A memory was nagging at me. Something about a group of protesters whose peaceful march had gone totally wrong. “So, that’s when he disappeared? While he was working the war protest circuit?”

  “You make it sound like the car or horse
races. I’m sure he believed in what he was doing.” A buzzer went off. “I’ve got another batch to get ready for the oven or your display case is going to be empty tomorrow. Do you want a couple of those to take to Greg?”

  Just like Sadie to worry about feeding the man who’d put Austin in the clink. No matter what, I knew I could always count on her. Even if I said stupid things like I did with Amy. I took the bag with more than a few for the guys at the station, gave my friend a hug, and decided to see what I could find out about Austin’s prior life. Facebook and Google had been my research tools before; hopefully they would be as knowledgeable this time.

  Esmeralda was at the desk when I walked through the station door.

  “Hey, Jill, he’s in a meeting with John and I don’t think he’ll be done soon. They just had me order lunch for the team.” She looked at the bag in my hand, sniffing the air. “What do you have in there? Don’t tell me you baked?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t want what I could bake.” I set the bag on her desk. “Sadie sent these over for you all. She’s trying out a new recipe.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet of her. She’s got a good heart, that’s why people tend to take advantage of her.” The town’s fortune-teller nodded, pointing her finger at me. “You need to protect her from those who want to use her good nature.”

  “Like Austin?” This message from beyond sounded more like a message from a concerned neighbor.

  Esmeralda nodded. “Austin appears to be a wounded soul, but he’s got a dark side that Sadie can’t see.”

  “I totally agree with you. Do you know anything about him that I need to know?” I pulled out my notebook and pen, waiting for the gossip I was sure was coming.

  Esmeralda leaned closer. “I’ve already told Greg this, so I don’t see the harm. I visit a local nursing home over in Bakerstown and do readings for the residents. They enjoy talking to their friends who have passed on, so I try to go once a month. Last month, I went on a different day and Austin was there talking to a resident. A woman who’d just moved from up north.”