Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (8 page)

She poured their drinks and placed them on a tray, then made straight for their table. The other deputy had come out of the bathroom finally and she was surprised when she realized who it was.

“Billy Barnes! I didn’t even recognize you.” She put his cola in front of him and stepped back. “I didn’t know you’d joined the force. How long’s it been?”

“I’ve been in the sheriff’s department for about three months now, ever since I graduated from the academy.” He took a long draw on his soda and smiled. “This sweet lady used to babysit me when I was little.”

“Oh, thank you very much for making me feel like a fossil.” She laughed it off and winked at Billy. “So, you guys know what you want?”

“BLT. Hold the mayo.” The sheriff squinted at the menu and frowned. “Fries, too, I guess.”

“Me and Billy are having the hot turkey sandwich. All the fixings and don’t skimp on the gravy.”

Rachel eyed first the deputy and then Billy, wondering why Billy wasn’t allowed to speak for himself. At length, she figured that it was some sort of hierarchy-based hazing or something and let it go.

“I’ll be right back with your food. You want a refill on that cola, Billy?”

“Yes’m.” He held out his glass with a smile

She turned to go back to the counter and something was said by the deputy to Billy, though she couldn’t quite make it out. She liked Billy and always found him to be a decent and smart individual, though she hadn’t spoken to him in several years…since he stopped needing a babysitter. But to see him just then, still wet behind the ears and fresh out of the academy, it made her feel like she had lost touch with him for decades. Now, here he was, a full-grown man – though only just barely – and a lawman at that.

She fetched the colafor Billy, then went to stand at the window, putting her elbows up on the empty surface and grinning through the window at her husband. “You’re never gonna guess who I just served,” she said, quite proud of her secret.

“Billy Barnes,” Rick answered, barely glancing in the man’s direction.

Rachel’s jaw dropped and her eyes bugged. “How did you know that?”

“I saw him come in with the sheriff. He’s been on the forced for a couple of months now.”

“You talked to Billy and you never told me? They call that withholding information, mister.”

Rick shrugged. “Sorry. I figured you knew.”

“Well, I didn’t.” She put her chin down on her folded arms and pouted. “This makes us old, you know.”

“I know.” He gave her a few more seconds to ruminate, then hollered, “Order up!” in her face.

Rachel pulled a face at him and took the plates, then hurried off to the back booth.

“There you go, gentlemen,” she said, sliding the plates into position before them. “You need any ketchup? Anything at all?”

“We’re good, thanks, Mrs. Armstrong,” Billy offered with that boyish smile of his.

Rachel lingered for another half a second, about to ask about the murder investigation, then thought better of it. “Well, if you need anything, just wave me over. I’ll check back in a couple of minutes, okay?”

“Thanks, Rachel,” Sheriff Dooley said around a mouthful of food.

Rachel returned to her perch at the counter and tried hard not to stare in their direction. She would try not to take advantage, but in Billy she had a source of information who was green, eager, and already primed for interrogation. If Dooley was too closed-mouthed, she might be able to bribe Billy with a piece of cake and a little reminiscing. Chocolate was his favorite.

After a respectable amount of time, Rachel returned to their table. The check was in her hand and she slipped it onto the table unceremoniously. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”

“What kind of pie do you have?” Dooley asked with a wink.

“Apple, coconut cream, cherry, and key lime.”

“No pecan?” Billy looked about to pout.

“Sorry, Billy.”

“Coconut cream.”

“Key lime.”

“Make mine apple.”

Rachel smiled and nodded. “Coming right up.”

She made quick work of fetching the pie, then added ice cream to Dooley’s without asking. In all the time he had been coming into the diner, he had never once eaten pie without ice cream, especially not apple.

“Here we are, key lime, coconut cream, and apple.”

“Ah, just the way I like it,” Dooley said, his fork awaiting further orders as he watched the plate slide in front of him.

“You guys look pretty beat. You want some coffee with that?”

They all shook their heads, Dooley more vigorously than the other two.

“All righty then. I’ll leave you to it.”

She walked away, cursing herself for having failed to find a good opening for her interrogation. She should have asked when she brought the pie, before they wrapped their lips around it. It’s hard to hold a conversation with a man who has a mouthful of pie.

Before she knew it, the three men were marching on the cash register and her chance had almost slipped away. She smiled sweetly and took the bill, looking directly at Dooley as she spoke.

“Three checks or one?” she asked.

“Just one. The county will be paying for this one.”

She nodded and entered the appropriate figures on her touch screen. Dooley slid two twenties across the counter at her and winked. “You keep the change, Rachel.”

“Why thank you, Sheriff.” She let it settle for a bit, then cocked her head to one side. “You’ve been working on the cemetery murder, huh?” Whether from a desire to sound casual or the desperation to fit in, her tone had taken on a definite southern twang.

“Yep. We been out there most of the morning. At least it didn’t rain.” Dooley thought that would be the end of it. He was wrong.

“Any idea who did it?” She didn’t look him in the eye, merely threw the question out there and hoped it stuck.

“Not a clue.”

“Any physical evidence? How was he murdered?” She was looking at him now, her eyes sparkling in the same way that a kid’s eyes shine on Christmas morning.

Dooley grinned and leaned forward, resting one elbow on the counter and letting his face get way too close to hers. “Now, Rachel, you know I can’t talk about an ongoing case. You’re a wonderful waitress. Why don’t you stick to that, hm?”

He winked at her, then stood up and turned away in one swift movement. The deputies trailed him out the door, Billy spinning at the last moment to wave at her.

Rachel, stunned into silence, waved back absently. Her eyes had gone dark and her mouth seemed to be caught in the act of forming some word or other.

Behind her, Rick had begun to laugh.

She reeled on him, scalding him with her gaze. “Shut up, you.”

She turned her back on him then, scanning the diner. There was only one customer left, sitting at the corner booth and nearly done. Only at that moment did it dawn on Rachel that she hadn’t spoken to Macy since she had turned the sign over. It also occurred to her that she was starving, so she stepped to the counter and grabbed a coffee cup.

The coffee was nearly gone and Rachel had absolutely no snobbery when it came to the java. Fresh, old, strong, weak, it didn’t matter. She’d drink it until it was gone and be grateful for the buzz. She poured herself a full cup and set the pot back on the brewer. She should eat a full lunch, but darned if that pie hadn’t smelled just so good. She cut herself a piece of the apple and sat down at the counter, sensing the approach of her best friend.

“That looks really good,” Macy said over her shoulder. “I think I’ll join you.”

Before long, all three ladies were sitting shoulder to shoulder at the counter, nibbling pie and sucking on coffee. Like birds on a wire, focused entirely on their food and nothing else, oblivious to the amused glances of Logan and Rick. Only the bell drew their attentions away from the pie and they turned in unison to see who had interrupted their break.

Not recognizing the man, Rachel choked down the last bite of pie in a too-large chunk and slid off her stool. She met him at the door, menu in hand and a smile on her slightly crumbed face. “Welcome to Rick’s,” she said. “You can sit any place that makes you feel comfortable.”

“I’m not here to eat, miss.” His voice was as impeccably smooth as his suit. “I’d like to speak to Rick Armstrong.”

Rachel swallowed, sized the guy up during a feint to the right as she slipped the menu back into its holder. “Can I ask your name?”

“Hey, Drew!” Rick bellowed, coming out of the kitchen as he wiped his hands on his apron. His face was split with a huge smile and his eyes sparkled.

Any pretense at threat dropped away from the strange man’s face and Rachel’s stress melted away along with it.

“Hiya, Rick.” He thrust his hand out and the men shared a good, strong handshake. “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

Rick pocketed his hands and frowned. “We’re all family here. Anything you can say to me, you can say to them.”

Drew nodded slowly, likewise pocketing his hands and ignoring the rest of the people in the diner. “All right, then. I don’t know how you got the information you brought me and I don’t care…”

“Do you have the results?”

Drew nodded and frowned again. “I do. But I can’t tell you what they are.”

Rick pulled a face and took a defensive stance with his arms folded over his chest and his jaw drawn back. “You couldn’t find a match?”

“Oh, I found a match. But I can’t tell you who it is. And I can’t tell you why I can’t tell you. You catching my drift, bud?”

Rick’s jaw set even harder and his eyes narrowed. “What is it, Drew? Witness protection? Open case on a major crime? You know I’ve got the clearance – still – to know what’s going on.”

“You do not. Not for this. I’ll tell you to drop this thing. Don’t come to me with anything else. I can’t help you. Don’t keep sticking your nose into it. It would be bad for your health, if you catch my drift.”

“Huh.” Rick studied the floor, rubbing the back of his hand idly over his stubbly chin. “So, you can’t even tell me if he robbed that bank for real or if it was just a cover.”

“Goddamnit, Rick! You know how this works. I can’t tell you a thing.”

Rick glowered at him a few moments longer, then his face brightened. “Okay, Drew. We’ve been friends a long time and I don’t want something like this to sour it. Consider it dropped.” He offered his hand and a smile.

Drew took Rick’s hand, gripped it tightly and shook. “Thanks. I wish I could help. I just can’t.”

Rick withdrew from the handshake and wiped his hand again. It was subconscious on his part, but Rachel read quite a lot into it. “I get it. I get it, believe me. But thanks for looking out for me, Drew. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Sure thing, bud.”

Drew left the diner in silence, Rick staring after him and Rachel staring at Rick.

Once the door had shut and the bell had quieted its song, Rachel folded her arms over her chest and turned to Rick. “But we’re not going to drop it? Are we?”

He looked at her for a moment, perhaps bracing for her reaction to bad news, perhaps on the horns of a dilemma. “I don’t think we have a choice, Rach. We aren’t going to get any info out of the people that have it. And if we step into the middle of a federal case and foul it up, there’ll be hell to pay. I’m afraid we have to drop it.”

“We do,” Diane offered, her head nodding up and down like it was being controlled by a string. “We really do. I’m sure things will become clear in time. Whatever those things are. But I don’t want anybody getting in trouble or getting hurt because of me. We drop it. Right here and right now. Okay?”

Everyone in the diner nodded…except Rachel.

Diane walked to her and put one hand on her arm, peered directly into her dark eyes. “Okay, Rachel? Please? Can we just let it go?”

Rachel looked at her, her lips downturned and her eyes hooded. With a heavy sigh, she said, “Fine. We’ll drop it.”

But Rachel wouldn’t drop it. She couldn’t.

Chapter 5

O
ver the next two days, Rachel did everything she could to keep her mind off the subject of Mike and his true identity. She rushed to do every little menial task that came up, trying to stay busy. At night, she forced herself to read or catch up on bills or immerse herself in whatever the TV had to offer. What she really wanted to do was to hack into Drew’s computer and find out what he knew that she didn’t. She wanted to hack back into CODIS and get the whole truth.

But she had promised Rick and she fully intended to keep that promise.

On the third day, she had finally managed to come to an agreement with her brain. She could go almost an hour without even giving a thought to Diane, Mike, or the mystery of Mike’s identity. There had been a steady stream of customers in the diner, so things had been hectic. All that came to a halt, however, shortly after two, when the last customer shuffled out through the doors, leaving the five friends alone.

“Whew!” Logan said, emerging from the kitchen with a full plate and a smile. “I thought they’d never leave.” He slid the plate onto the counter, then reached beneath it to grab some silverware.

Rachel edged past Rick, he leaving the kitchen, she going into it. He pecked the top of her head and gave her backside a little smack as they passed each other in the doorway.

“Fresh!” she gasped with a wink.

Rick winked back and took up his place at the counter next to Logan.

Rachel filled her plate with leftover bacon, hash browns and a muffin. They usually ate whatever was left in the heating trays to prevent waste (Macy the MBA called it loss) and Rachel had an addiction for hash browns that she couldn’t shake.

Rachel was about to settle onto the stool when the bell tinkled and Sheriff Dooley stepped inside. His shirt sported two large pit stains (still fresh) and a large spatter of coffee (quite old). Rachel pushed her plate farther down the counter and settled herself onto a stool.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” she said right before she shoved a huge forkful of hash browns into her mouth.