A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery (19 page)

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Monica Ingram said as I walked into her office.  She was unboxing some kind of playpen and wrestling with it in an attempt to set it up in one corner.

“I didn’t realize you had children.  Monica, do you even have a secretary?” I asked her with a smile.

“She’s out on maternity leave,” Monica admitted.  “Thus the playpen.  It’s been kind of hectic around here, but she’s coming back to work tomorrow.  That’s why I got her this.  Do you think she’ll like it?”

“If you’re letting her bring her newborn to work, I think she’ll love it.”

Monica nodded.  “It was the only way I could get her to come back after having the baby.  It might be a little disruptive, but it can’t be worse than how it’s been with her gone, can it?”

“I reserve judgment, based on a complete and utter lack of experience or knowledge in the matter,” I said.

“You sound like you’ve got a little attorney blood in your veins yourself,” Monica answered with a grin.

“That’s because I’ve probably spent too much time hanging out with my best friend,” I admitted.  “Rebecca has a tendency sometimes to use twenty words when four will do.”

“She sounds like my kind of gal,” Monica said.  She stared at the pen for another second, and then stood.  “I give up.  I’m hoping that Lisa knows how to put this thing together because I for one am lost.”

“You could always just read the directions,” I said as I pointed to a sheet of paper on the floor.

“I’m too much my father’s daughter to even consider it,” she answered.  “I’m glad you came by.  I was just going to call you.”

“What’s going on?”

She reached toward the top of the desk and pulled some papers from it.  “I just filed this earlier, so it’s now a matter of public record.”

“What is it?” I asked, but then got my answer as I scanned it quickly.  “This is Howard Lance’s will.”

“It is, though I don’t know why he bothered.  Then again, he paid me good money to write it, and I wasn’t about to turn him down.”

“So, you didn’t get stiffed?  That’s good.”

“It’s just good business.  Cash and carry, that’s always been my policy.”

I looked at the pages of legalese, and then I handed it all back to her.  “Can you just give me the highlights?  Legal jargon gives me the hives.”

“I’m glad I don’t have that particular affliction,” she said.  “Basically, what it boils down to is that anything that’s left over from his holdings after paying off his bills goes to two women here in town.”

“Let me guess, Josephine and Stacy from the BBQ Pit.”

She smiled at me.  “So, you took my advice after all.”

“It was excellent, but it didn’t do me any good.  They were both working when Howard was murdered, and apparently there are a dozen witnesses to prove it.”

“That’s good to know,” she said, “but even if they were both still suspects in your mind, money wasn’t a motivating factor.  Howard was a good thirty thousand dollars in debt when he died.”

“Then the ten thousand dollars the police found of his wouldn’t even touch it.”

Monica nodded.  “I knew about that, but I wasn’t certain that you did.  You’re well connected around here, aren’t you?”

“It’s as much my grandfather as it is me,” I said.

“Where is the charming old gentleman?” Monica asked, and I couldn’t say for sure if she was joking or not.

“He’s waiting for me in the truck.  I think you might intimidate him a little.”

That got a full-on laugh.  “That’s too much.  Let me walk you out so I can say hello to him myself.”

“I’d enjoy that,” I said as I followed her outside.  Moose was doing a crossword puzzle from the newspaper, something not at all odd to find.  He kept a stack of them in his truck to occupy himself in his downtime. 

He was clearly startled as we approached.  “I’m hurt you didn’t come in,” Monica told him with a smile.

“I had something to take care of,” Moose said.

“I’ll bet.  Thirty six down is ‘Flowing,’ by the way.”

Moose looked at the puzzle, and then said, “No, it’s not.  It’s ‘Rascal.’”

“My mistake,” she answered.  “I guess it takes one to know one.”  She patted  the truck’s hood as I got in, and waved at us both as we drove away.

“Why did you let her come out?” Moose asked.

“What was I going to do, tackle her to keep her from seeing you?  It’s not like you to act this way toward any woman you’ve ever met,” I said.

“I’ll admit it.  She throws me a little off,” Moose said.  “Did you find out anything from her?”

“Apparently Howard Lance left a will, but there was no money to cover his bequests.  You’re not going to believe who his main two beneficiaries were.”

“Unless it’s our two waitress friends, I give up,” Moose said.

“I guessed that, too, but you’re right,” I said, a little miffed that my grandfather had come to the same conclusion that I had.

“Where to now, Victoria?” my grandfather asked.

“We have a few options,” I said after a moment’s thought.  “We can try to corner Cynthia or Bob again, or we can keep looking for Hank and Margie.  Those are the only suspects we have left, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I say we go to Cynthia’s,” Moose said.  “She sounded kind of jumpy this morning from what you told me about her telephone call.”

“That sounds good to me.  I wouldn’t know where to even start looking for Hank and Margie, anyway.  I just can’t see them together, can you?”

“Love doesn’t always make sense to anyone who’s in it,” Moose said, “but it’s never something you can afford to just ignore.”

“Who knew my grandfather could be such a romantic?” I asked as we headed back to Jasper Fork.

“You could have always just asked my wife,” Moose said with a smile.  “If anyone knows me, it’s your grandmother.”

“How do you do it after all these years?” I asked.

“I’ve got a suspicion you know.  I’ve watched you and Greg.  You two are going to stick for life, just like Martha and I have.”

“How about my mom and dad?” I asked. 

“They’ve got it, too.  I haven’t entirely approved of everything your father has done on this earth, but marrying your mother was the smartest thing he ever managed.  We may not have fame or fortune, but our family knows how to find love, and when it comes down to it, what is there that could be more valuable?”

I shook my head as I smiled.  “They don’t call you The Charming Moose for nothing, do they?”

“Actually, that’s what the diner is called,” he said with the hint of a smile.

“Do you mean the one that’s named after you?” I asked him.

“Purely coincidence,” he said, and then couldn’t hold his laughter in any longer.

When we got to the salon, the shades were still pulled and it was dark inside.  I was afraid that we had another runner when I remembered what day it was.  “She’s not here.”

“I can see that for myself,” Moose said.

“No, I mean ever.  This is her afternoon off, and she takes it every week.  We could always go by her house to see if she’s there.”

“No, doing that will just spook her,” Moose said.  “We’ve already questioned her here.  If we go by her place, she’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Then let’s try Bob,” I suggested.

“I’m game,” Moose said, and drove there quickly.  At least they were open for business. 

Bob looked up from his desk as we walked into his office.  He’d been doodling on his calendar, drawing birds of all things.  Was he that bored, or was something on his mind?  “Has that old death-trap of yours finally given up the ghost?” he asked my grandfather.

“Don’t count on it.  She’s as strong as the day is long,” Moose said proudly.

“One of these days you’re going to need me,” Bob answered with a grin.

“But not today,” Moose shot back quickly.  “I’m sorry I missed you at the restaurant this morning.”

He glanced straight at me.  “Victoria, I didn’t realize that my visit had been all that significant enough to tell your grandfather about,” he said good-naturedly.

“What can I say?  It was a slow news morning.”

“It must have been.  Don’t read anything into it, though.  I thought a big breakfast might be good for a change of pace, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  This diet has me paranoid about every single bite I put into my mouth.”  He paused for a moment, but before Moose or I could ask him anything else about the murder, Nancy Barton came storming into his office.  “The smell is getting worse.”

I glanced at her, at Moose, and then sniffed the air.

She caught me doing it.  “Not in here, Victoria, in my car.”  Nancy turned back to Bob and said, “You told me that you fixed it.”

“Nancy, I’ll be happy to have one of the guys look at it for you again.”

“No,” she said firmly.  “You are coming with me, and I mean right now.”  She glanced at us and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but my sister and I are driving to Atlanta this evening, and I can’t abide that noxious odor.”

“Sorry,” Bob said as he got up from his desk, “but duty calls.”

Before either one of us could say another word, Bob and Nancy were gone.

“We’re not having much luck today, are we?” I asked my grandfather.

“Not one single bit,” he said. 

“What’s left?” I asked.

“There’s nothing we can do but go back to the diner.”

I agreed, but not grudgingly at all.  It was where I belonged, not out chasing down leads that never paid off.  I still wanted  to find the murderer who had crept into our diner and struck, but there was no use beating our heads against the wall until something else turned up.  If and when it did, I’d be happy to drop everything and start hunting for clues again, but in the meantime, I was going to get back to work.

“What are you still doing here?” I asked Ellen as Moose and I walked into the diner.  “You should have been home an hour and a half ago.”

“Your grandmother had an errand to run, and I promised Greg that I’d hang around,” she said, though I knew that she was already late meeting her kids.

“What about the guys?”

“I had Myra Greene get them from the bus stop.  She loves them almost as much as I do, and they never get tired of going over to her place, especially since she makes them Snickerdoodle cookies.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, but you can take off now.”

“Thanks,” she said as she grabbed her coat and took off.

“You’re back,” Greg said with a smile when I walked into the kitchen to place an order.  Jenny would be there soon and I could take over the register alone, but for now, I was working the floor and the front.

He hugged me, but then quickly let go. 

“Why so brief?” I asked, but Greg was already headed out into the dining room, the meat cleaver he’d been holding still grasped firmly in his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked a young man in jeans and a worn old T-shirt as he was hurriedly heading for the exit.

“I’m finished,” the guy said.

“I hope you enjoyed it, but you still need to pay for your meal.”

“I gave my money to the other lady,” he said, casting his glance downward.

Greg approached him, holding the cleaver out from his body, as though it were a pistol in a holster that he was preparing to draw.

“There’s a simple way to prove that.  If your ticket is on the pin, I’ll buy your next meal here on the house, whatever you want.”

“And if it’s not?” the kid asked warily.

“Then I’ll collect in whatever way that I can.”

I expected him to take his chances and run, but instead, the kid broke down.  “Mister, I’d pay if I could, but I’m flat broke.  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to steal, but I don’t have much choice.”

“What’s your name?” my husband asked him.

“Mike,” he admitted.

“Let me ask you something, Mike.  Are you physically able to work?” Greg asked, his voice still calm.

“Yes, sir,” the young man reluctantly.  “But nobody will give me a chance.”

“Follow me,” Greg said.

Mike hesitated, but then he did as my husband ordered.  Greg came back out a few minutes later.

“What happened?”

“I put him to work moving those crates in back that have been bugging me for weeks.  I was determined to do it myself tonight after work, but why not let Mike do it and give him a chance to pay for his meal?”

“What’s to keep him from just running away?” I asked.  “That back alley isn’t exactly locked up.”

“Well, young Michael and I had a little talk, and I believe that he’ll do as he promised.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I asked.

“Then we’ll never be bothered with him again.  It’s as elegant a solution as I could ask for.”

“You’re a good man, Greg,” I said as I kissed my husband’s cheek.

“Don’t forget, I know what it’s like to be hungry,” he said, and then turned back to his grill.  My husband had lived with his mother after her divorce from his father, and there had been times she and Greg had gone without food, or even a roof over their heads.  It was something that stayed with Greg every day, and he was eternally grateful for every meal, every shower, and every night he slept in a nice, soft bed.