Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (17 page)

By lunch time, the three girls were scurrying across the diner, wishing they had another waitress to lend a hand. It left the waitresses exhausted but the register full.

At one, Rachel dropped onto the stool by the register and swiped at her forehead with the back of one hand. “I’m going to go to the bank before my break. I’m not comfortable leaving all this here.”

Logan stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron and pulling it off. “I’ll give you a lift. I have to go down to the parts store and get a new valve for that dishwasher sprayer.”

“Awesome. I appreciate it.” She finished stuffing the bills into the bank bag, leaving just enough to make change for the rest of the day. “Back in a flash, guys,” she announced to the diner in general as she grabbed her umbrella.

Outside, the sidewalks were steaming and the awnings wept. The rain had slowed to a mere mist, but everything everywhere was completely sodden. Rachel’s shoes made little squeaks and splats as she made her way to the truck, ducking into it with a sigh.

“We haven’t had a rain like this in a long time,” Logan announced as he started the car.

“I guess we were due.”

Rachel hugged herself against the pervasive humidity and watched the traffic go by. Logan seemed fresh as a daisy; obviously the only one who got any sleep last night. She was jealous.

The bank was four blocks away and Logan slid up to the light just in time to see a car pull out of the very first space. He held his breath and counted until the light changed, then guided the truck easily into the space.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said.

“It could take a while. It looks like there’s a line.”

“That’s okay. I wouldn’t leave my little buddy Rachel to walk home in the rain.” He reached out and play-punched her shoulder. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy my tunes.”

She laughed then, the first real and comforting thing she’d heard in days. Logan was funny by nature and when he launched into his cartoon voices, he could rob you of your breath. “I’ll try to be fast.”

She dashed through the ten feet of drizzle to the bank door and rushed inside. There were three people in line at one teller’s window, two at the other. While patience wasn’t her strong suit, she waited calmly in line, glancing outside every few seconds to see what Logan was doing.

“Hi, Rachel,” the teller said as she stepped up to the window. “How’s business.”

Rachel handed over the bag and smiled. It took her a minute to place the teller, a young woman who also taught school for part of the year. “Business is very good, Anne. Thanks for asking.”

“I can see that,” Anne responded as she peered into the bag at the stack of bills inside. Anne made quick work of counting the bills, then printed out the receipt. “You have a great day, Rachel.”

“You, too. See you soon.” Rachel took the receipt and turned on her heel.

Halfway to the door, she took a look through the glass front of the bank. Logan was in the truck and, whatever song was currently playing, he was dancing for all he was worth. Unable to resist, Rachel whipped out her cell and took a short movie of Logan before she left the bank.

“You are so busted!” she laughed as she jerked open the truck door and leaped inside.

Logan’s head whipped around and he glared at her, slack-jawed and confused. “What?”

“Your little dance routine there. I got it on video.” She shook her phone at him and doubled over with laughter.

“Oh, you’ll get yours. One day, you
will
get yours.” He sneered at her and put the truck in gear.

As Logan checked his mirrors, Rachel smirked and stared straight ahead, pleased with herself. Slowly, her eyes widened and her jaw went slack. The truck had barely moved an inch when she shouted, “Stop!”

Logan threw on the brakes and pivoted his head to squint at her. “What?”

“That truck up there. The one pulling out of the parking spot. That’s one of the trucks that was at the cemetery the other night.”

“How can you tell?”

“See that bumper sticker on the front bumper?”

Logan leaned forward and squinted through the windshield. “‘Gas, grass or ass. Nobody rides free.’ Didn’t that go out in the Seventies?”

“Exactly. I saw it that night at the cemetery. In fact, I think I might have caught it in my video…” She turned on her phone and started flipping through images.

“It’s okay. I believe you. What do we do?”

“Follow him,” she said with certainty, her eyes riveted on the truck.

“Didn’t you just promise Dooley you’d stay out of this?”

“I promised him that I would stay away from the cemetery and that I wouldn’t investigate the case anymore. So, we’re just driving down the street and that truck just happens to always be a little ahead of us. Now go!” She began slapping his arm repeatedly. “He’s getting away.”

“Rick’s not gonna like this.” Logan mumbled.

“Tell him I blackmailed you with the dancing video. Just go!”

“All right, all right!”

Logan gunned the engine, pulling out of the space and U-turning in one swift movement. The dark green truck had just reached the red light and, even driving slowly, Logan still had to pull up right behind him. When the light changed, Logan delayed their departure by four seconds, then started off slowly.

Rachel had adopted her usual posture of leaning forward and locking her hands onto the dashboard. She was near drooling, her eyes wide and her lip caught in the vice of her teeth. “Don’t get too close or he’ll make us.”

Logan merely shook his head.

The green truck turned left on Maple and Logan did the same. He kept his speed at a minimum and the guy showed no sign that he suspected a tail. The truck’s second turn was a right onto Lincoln. The traffic had thinned out in that part of town, so Logan kept his distance.

They continued to drive for over three miles, headed for the ocean at a steady clip. When the turn signal came on on the truck ahead, Rachel made a low sound in her throat and slapped the dashboard.

“There’s only one place he can be going on that road,” she exclaimed. “Turn left and go up on The Point. We can see him from there and he won’t suspect a thing.”

Again Logan shook his head, but he did as he was told. The road’s incline grew steeper and Logan’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“Pull it up into those trees,” Rachel said, pointing. “Don’t drive all the way up on The Point or he’ll see us. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

She barely waited for the truck to stop moving before she threw open the door and stepped out.

“Wait for me,” Logan called, hurrying to catch up with her.

Rachel slogged up the rise, the mud sucking at her shoes. They would be black by the time she got back to the diner and she would have to change them. Thank goodness she kept a spare pair in the office.

She kept low, watching the shore as she settled in among a few scruffy bushes. The green truck had just edged onto the beach when she parted the branches to have a better look. She watched as two men climbed out of the truck’s cab and stepped around to the bed. Each grabbed a large box from the truck’s bed and made toward the cliff. They talked as they went, though the wind carried their voices away from Rachel and Logan rather than toward them.

Rachel rose from her completely crouched position to a partial one and began to duck-walk toward the cliff.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked, clearly irritated.

“I’m going over to the cliff so I can hear them better. I need to know what they’re saying.”

“Get back here. I’ll do it.” He began to stand up, but she waved him back down.

“Don’t be silly, Logan. You and I both know your ears aren’t as good as mine.”

“Seriously? We’re really gonna do this now?”

Logan’s outrage fell on deaf ears, as Rachel had already approached the cliff and was lying flat on the ground in blatant disregard for Logan’s admonishments and the soaking rivulets of rain water.

She inched forward, oblivious to the mud and muck, until her nose just peeked over the edge of the cliff. The truck was below, all of it visible save for the last few inches of the hood. Rachel pulled her hair back and tucked it neatly behind her ear, turning so that it was aimed directly at the voices below.

Apparently, the load was quite heavy for one man panted and said, “Is this the last of it?”

The second man, struggling far less as he brought up the rear replied, “Naw, man. But Mouse is bringing the last load with him when he starts tomorrow.”

They struggled through the sand for a few more seconds, saying nothing more.

Rachel leaned forward, gripping the ground as she fought to hear anything else from them. For several long seconds she remained in that position, her body only now starting to feel the damp cold as it seeped through her clothes and bit into her skin. At long last, she was forced to admit that no more would be said and she struggled to stand up on the soggy soil that capped the cliff. As she made her way back to Logan, she noticed him covering his mouth, his shoulders heaving with laughter unvoiced and his eyes beginning to tear up.

“What’s got into you?” she whispered as she knelt down beside him.

“You look like a Rorschach test!” He pointed at her uniform and began to chuckle anew.

Rachel looked down at herself, the front of her uniform smeared with mud and her shoes caked with wet clay. “Blast it! We’ll have to stop by the house so I can change.”

“Let’s get going. I don’t want to be here when those two drive that truck back down the hill.”

Rachel made her way to the truck, stepping carefully so as to avoid slipping on some of the more sodden earth. The incline wasn’t steep but with all that rain, it had turned into a giant slippy-slide. When she got to the truck, Logan was leaning against it comically, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded over his chest.

“I ought to make you ride in the back,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Ha, ha, ha! Shut up and drive.”

Logan started the engine and backed around so that they were facing down the slope. He still wore that stupid smirk on his face and it was beginning to grate on Rachel’s nerves. Just then, Rachel’s phone emitted that familiar
bing!
that signaled an incoming text. She grabbed it and swiped the screen, then frowned.

“Rick is wondering where we are and if everything’s okay.”

Logan glanced at her briefly and renewed his silly grin. “What are you going to tell him?”

“That I spilled coffee on my uniform and had to stop by the house to change.” She began typing in her message.

“You’re going to lie to your husband? My best friend?”

“Well, you don’t want me to tell him the truth, do you?”

“Yea, I do.” His face had gone serious, his eyes dark.

“Okay,” Rachel sighed. She typed in her message, then read it back before hitting send. “’Long story. Have to stop by the house to change. Back ASAP.’ Happy now?” And she hit
send
with a flourish.

“So, did you hear anything helpful?” Logan asked after a while.

“Actually, it might be. The first guy asked if that was the last load. And the second guy said that it wasn’t, but somebody called Mouse would be bringing the last of it with him tomorrow before he started.”

“Started what, I wonder.”

“I don’t know. But I wonder what the connection is between the beach and the graveyard. And more importantly, how I’m going to tell Dooley about this without seeming like I’m still on the case.”

“That’s your problem, lady. I serve as chauffer and bodyguard. Not alibi.” Logan turned into Rachel’s driveway, slid the truck into an open space and put it in park.

“I’ll figure something out,” she mumbled, then bit into her lip.

She pushed open the door and slid to the ground. When she had finally rounded the truck and brought Logan into full view, she shook her head. “Why is it that you don’t have a speck of dirt on you?”

“Because I didn’t lie face down in a big fat mud puddle, silly.” He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

Busy unlocking the door, Rachel missed it. “I’ll just be a minute. There’s soda in the fridge if you want one. Or sandwich stuff. My kitchen is your kitchen.”

Logan headed for the kitchen, thinking a nice cold soda would do him some good just then. The cats discovered him, thinking that it was time for their humans to feed them. They entangled his feet and rubbed his ankles and did everything they could to impede his progress to the fridge.

By the time he actually laid hands on the soda and returned to the living room, Rachel was already standing there, looking refreshed in her pristine uniform. Her shoes had been swapped for a clean pair and, from the looks of things, she had taken the time to run a brush through her hair. Overcome by a serious sense of time displacement, his jaw dropped and he nearly forgot the soda in his hand.

“How did you do that so fast?” he asked.

“Years of experience. Come on. Let’s get back to the diner.”

Rachel hurried after the long-legged Logan, reaching the truck several seconds after he did and climbing into it, though not without some effort. She wished that men – Logan in particular – didn’t like their toys quite so big and far off the ground.

Logan started the engine and backed out of the drive, the soda still in his hand. He didn’t actually take a drink of it until they were almost to the diner, and then he drained nearly half of it. When it came time to park the huge truck in a spot on the street, he passed the soda off to Rachel, who held it until he was done.

They were nearing a trot as they hurried across the street and up to the door. Rick must be fuming by now, they imagined. There would be words. But nothing could have prepared Rachel for what she saw when she pulled open the door. Halfway over the threshold, she stopped, letting Logan run into her as she gaped.

“How the heck did he know?” she groaned.

Chapter 9

T
hey were like deer caught in headlights, standing in the doorway, their jaws slack, air conditioning leaking out all around them. They stared and they blinked and they tried to will it away. In the end, they were forced to cross that threshold and accept whatever punishment lay within.