Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

“I was at the old section, back by that big mausoleum. There were two pickup trucks parked back there, but they were parked back bumper to back bumper, so I couldn’t make the licenses.”

“I see. And to be clear, these trucks were what color?”

“It was too dark to tell for sure, but one of them was light and one was dark. And there were four men milling around. They were kind of loud, so I would have to think that anybody passing by would hear them and stop to see what was what.”

“Uh huh.” He squinted at her once again.

“There was equipment and tools in one truck and a big pile of dirt in the other. I couldn’t see beyond the trucks to see what was going on, but I took a video just in case I could enhance it and find something that way.”

“And did you enhance it?”

“Not yet. But I will. And I will share anything I find with you. I want you to know that I do not want to keep anything from you. I’m here in the full spirit of cooperation.”

“You’ve been listening to your husband for a lot of years, hm?” He nearly smiled at that.

“Yes, he’s taught me a lot.”

“So, can I see this video at least?”

“Sure.” She stood up abruptly and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. It had a five-inch screen and full stereo speakers, so she supposed that it would give him about the best that that particular video had to offer. “It’s right here on my phone and I’ll be happy to email it to you as soon as you’ve looked at it.”

“I’d be much obliged, ma’am.” She knew the hick tone he took was no more than an affectation. He liked it when people underestimated him and Rachel couldn’t exactly blame him. Heck, she used the same tactic herself quite a bit.

“Here.” She started the video and thrust the phone out in front of his face. She watched his face as he took it in one beefy hand and squinted at the screen. She returned to her chair, continuing to watch him for signs of faulty deception. He seemed not to recognize anything in the video, nor make out a single word.

“Well, that wasn’t very helpful, was it?” he asked as he handed back the phone. “But to be clear, exactly how did you get into the cemetery at that hour? It would have been locked.”

Rachel’s face fell and the single thread that would unravel her entire deception was picked at. “What do you mean, Sheriff?”

“What I mean is, that video was shot from a vantage point somewhere in the woods, in front of the mausoleum and facing the fence. Therefore, you were inside the cemetery, at a time when the gates would be locked. So, I ask…quite logically…how you got inside.”

Rachel swallowed and felt the color flood her face. “All right. You got me. I climbed a tree and dropped down to the wall and then to the ground. But I didn’t touch a thing, never disturbed anything.”

“Breaking and entering.” He made that
tsk
sound with his tongue and grinned. “And a cemetery at that!” He allowed himself the luxury of a laugh then. The expression on her face silenced him and he took up his normal, dour countenance once more. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not gonna arrest you or anything. But think for a moment what might have happened if those guys had seen you…you being all alone inside those walls and all.”

She nodded solemnly. “Exactly what Rick will say to me when he finds out. And you’re right. I didn’t think things through.”

“Why can’t you just stick to running your restaurant and leave the policing to me and my boys? You’re a wonderful waitress but you’re a lousy investigator. And one day, you mark my words, you’re gonna get hurt.”

Rachel felt her face grow hot, her hands clench into fists. She set her jaw hard and glared at him. “I’m going to enhance that video, Sheriff, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m going to bring you back something that solves this whole case. You can make book on it.”

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, fought the threat of a smile. “Okay, Rachel. Well, now, it would be real nice if you did just that. But in the meantime, I want you to promise me you won’t go sticking your nose into this case anymore.”

Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. “I promise I will not go sticking my nose into this case anymore. Satisfied?” Besides, she could always investigate the bank robbery and hope that the two were connected.

“Good enough. Now, shoot me that email and run on back to your computer. I’m kinda anxious to see what you can do with it.”

She stood up, her shoulders squaring and her jaw relaxing. “I’ll do just that, Sheriff. Give me until morning to get it all cleaned up and enhanced. Then I’ll send you the new version.”

“And thanks for coming by, Rachel.” Dooley stood and offered his hand. “I know you didn’t have to.”

“It was my pleasure, Sheriff.”

As she left the office, she was struck by the completely arbitrary notion that she would be the main topic of conversation among the officers for quite some time to come. She could see them all, sitting around mugs of coffee and a box of donuts, laughing over the silly woman and her surveillance attempts.

As she whooshed out the door on a gust of air, she realized that the only way to quell their laughing was to find something in that video that would point her (and the police) in the direction of the midnight marauders. She was already too wound up, despite not having slept in over twenty-four hours, and she knew that she wouldn’t sleep much that night either. It got like that sometimes, when the details swirled around in her head with no answer in sight. It aggravated Rick to no end.

She decided that she needed to clear her head, distract herself with something completely vacuous for a while. To that end, she turned left toward the small mall which inhabited the outskirts of town. It was a fairly recent installment in their economy and she had only been there twice: once for Christmas shopping and once when it first opened. Perhaps if she wandered through its moneyed halls, she could set her mind straight for once.

She turned left onto Lincoln, her eye caught by the white two-door which turned out of the parking space across from the Sheriff’s Department and fell in behind her. It stayed a good four car-lengths behind her, so perhaps she was merely being paranoid. Still, better safe than sorry.

She made a sudden turn onto Third Street, where all the really old houses were. What was it Rick said? If a car stays with you for three turns in a row, you can be pretty sure you’re being followed. Yes, that was it.

As she came to the light, she slowed, watching to see if the car came close enough that she could see the occupant. Indeed, the driver applied his brakes and since the light was green, Rachel was forced to drive through the intersection. He never came closer than four car lengths.

She thought she could make out a hoodie on the driver, but maybe he just had long hair. Suddenly, she turned left on Doral Avenue without signaling and watched in her mirror as the car followed suit.

One more turn
, she thought.
One more turn and I’ve got you
.

She took the next right and the next, speeding up after each turn, then squealing a bit as she went around the third turn. By all rights, the third turn should have brought her in behind the white car which had been following her. It didn’t.

Chapter 6

R
achel looked frantically at her rear view, then out each window, then scanned the road ahead. The car was nowhere to be found, which meant that he had realized that she’d made him and had taken off.

With a heavy sigh, she made her way back to her original route, keeping an eye out for the car all the while. Her heart was still pounding and now her head had begun to hurt from the disappointment of losing the guy.

Who was it anyway? Could it have been Mike?

Or were the police following her to make sure she made good on her promises to the sheriff? She didn’t think that was the case, though. Dooley would never pull an officer off patrol and put him on a tail. It didn’t make sense.

By the time she pulled the car into the mall lot, she had nearly calmed down. But her stomach had begun to rumble and so she made a promise to herself to go to the tiny food court and grab a burger or something. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten. It was a good thing that Rick wasn’t there. Otherwise he’d have been mad at her for so many reasons.

There were only a few people milling around the mall that morning. It had only been open for half an hour, so the only people immediately visible were the two elderly women out for their daily mall-walk and the guy who delivered the local paper to the news stand. She smiled a greeting at each of them and kept on her way.

The mall was L-shaped and as she made the turn, she realized why no one else was around. They were having an art show at the end of that ell and the crowds had clustered there. The town was so starved for activities that, when an event actually occurred, people flocked to it like vultures to roadkill.

It was a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd as she made her way into the fray. People stood gawking and commenting. A few were even purchasing some of the artworks on display. She had to admit, for the most part, that most of them were pretty good. They ran the gamut from watercolors to sculpture to fiber art and each displayed a level of skill that Rachel could never hope to possess. It made her smile. Culture. Right there in tiny Laurel Falls.

Someone bumped into her violently then, knocking her backward a step and spinning her a bit. By luck or by design, it had been her good shoulder which had been struck, so she was spared the embarrassing scream of agony that would have otherwise resulted. She turned to glare at the bumper and perhaps say something nasty to him, but he had continued along his path without hesitation. Immediately, she checked her purse and made sure that he hadn’t tried to rob her. It was a small town, but sometimes crooks followed the art shows and such from town to town, knowing that the pickings would be good. But everything was in its place, so she discounted that possibility.

It had been a man, though not a large one. He had been wearing sneakers, jeans, and a dark hoodie just like…just like the man who had been in the car following her. And just like Mike when he had robbed the bank.

Rachel spun, searching the crowd for him. She caught sight of the top of his hoodie as he melted into the crowd and turned the corner, breaking away from them to head for the exit. Indecision rooted her feet to the spot. If it was Mike, she might finally find out why he had abandoned Diane and why he had robbed the bank. But if it wasn’t Mike, she might be putting herself in danger.

“Screw it!” she growled to herself and took off at a dead run.

She flew through the crowd, managing not to collide with anyone, and dodged around the corner. The door was just drifting closed and she barreled toward it, legs pumping, heart hammering. She hurdled the bench in true Parkour style, then flew out the door after the man.

By the time she reached the sidewalk, the man was gone. He was so completely gone that not even a hint of him existed. No echoing footsteps, no stirring breeze. She had never had a chance at catching him. As she turned to go back inside the mall, a white two-door car drove past with a slight man at the wheel. He was wearing a hoodie.

R
achel arrived home tired, down-hearted, and still hungry. Every single thing she had done for the past two days had been a dismal failure. She was no closer to knowing Mike’s story, no closer to solving the mystery of the cemetery or Horace’s murder. In fact, she couldn’t even say who had followed her on the way to the mall or who had accosted her in the mall.

Furious, she slapped her keys onto the table and slammed her purse down. And that’s when she saw it. There was a small piece of white paper sticking out of the small pocket on the front of her purse, usually reserved for her cell phone or keys. She tended to keep both in her pockets, so the pocket was always empty.

Now, however, the piece of paper sat there mocking her, daring her to reach over and pluck it from its nest. Had some old list, hastily jotted down and shoved deep into the pocket, come back to remind her of something once important?

She blinked rapidly, letting her hand reach out for it, slowly at first, then snatching it before it could escape.

It was written on plain notebook paper of the sort owned by every schoolchild across the country. The jagged left edge placed it in a notebook at one time, and the folds had been hastily made, meaning the note had been written on impulse. She unfolded it, wondering if fingerprints could be gotten from it. In the end, she decided to just read it.

“
Tell Diane I love her and I’m innocent. I’ll come back for her when this is through. Mike
.”

Nothing more than that. And yet, it spoke volumes. No guilty man would take the risk of putting a note into a stranger’s purse.

Rachel dropped into the closest chair and let her body droop. Suddenly, every single thing she’d done for the past two days came back to haunt her. Her head throbbed, her stomach roiled, and her mouth went rapidly and completely dry. She could almost hear Rick’s voice echoing in her ears.
If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of business.
How many times had he said that? A dozen? A hundred.

She launched herself out of the chair and hurried to the kitchen, shoving the note into her jeans pocket as she went. There was a large pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge and she grabbed a glass from the drainer and filled it with the brew. Guzzling half of it in one shot, she turned her attentions to the food. There were enough sandwich fixings to feed a small army and she grabbed a stack of them, along with the mustard and bread, and carted the whole mess to the kitchen island.

She remembered when she and Rick had bought the house, some eight years ago. They had knocked out the wall which separated the kitchen and laundry room, eliminating the laundry room and making the kitchen large enough to serve them both well. She was grateful for that space now, as she tossed things around and grabbed for a plate and utensils.