Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery (19 page)

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Finally, people at the diner! And I had Ty to thank for it.

“I don’t know if they’re going to order lunch, but I suggested it.”

“Oh, I have to help Juanita!”

“Don’t worry about it. She called Cindy in
because she thought that you needed the sleep!
”

“Oops.” Funny how Ty knew what was happening
at the diner more than I did. But I’d scored big at ACB’s house.

“I’d better go see the judge,” Ty said. “Then I’m going to have a long talk with ACB.”

“Can I come?”

“No, but you can take Blondie for me.” He held up her leash. He must have just bought it for her. “And I have dog food in my car. I’ll put it in yours.”

I decided to forget about the aspirin. I felt a lot better. My head was clear, and Ty seemed to be happy with my ACB news.

Maybe ACB would confess, but what would be her motive? Putting me out of business so she could be Antoinette Chloe Socialite?

We walked to his sheriff’s car where he pulled out a huge paper bag of dog food. And several plastic bags of treats and toys. He handed me the small bags, and hoisted the dog food to his shoulder. We walked to my car with Blondie between us. I grinned. It seemed so—I don’t know—comfortable, maybe.

After we put everything into my car, he handed me an envelope from his pocket. It was a little metal dog bone, but upon further inspection, I realized it was Blondie’s dog license.

“She’s yours now, isn’t she, Ty?” That was so nice of him to be so concerned over a stray dog. But if he hadn’t adopted her, I would have.

“I thought we could share her, since you obviously like Blondie, too.”

I smiled down at the beautiful golden retriever.
How could anyone dump a sweet, gorgeous dog like that?

Somehow she was meant to be mine…uh…ours.

Blondie climbed into the backseat of my car without a prompt and immediately curled up. I rubbed her head and scratched her chin, and she laid her head on the palm of my hand.

My heart just melted. I loved this dog!

I yawned. It was time to actually get some sleep.

“See you around, Ty. And congratulations on Blondie.”

My heart skipped a beat as I was rewarded with his charming smile and the tweak of his hat. Telling myself that I was just overreacting due to lack of sleep, I headed home.

When I got within sight of the parking lot, I had to give a hoot. “Yee-haw! Customers! Look at that, Blondie!”

Parking in front of my house, I let Blondie out to do her business. Then I called her inside, got her settled in the living room, and hurried out the door to the diner.

I let myself in the back door. Juanita and Cindy were busy filling orders.

“Trixie! Isn’t this great?” Juanita said. “They’re all ordering lunch, too.”

“Did you make a special, Juanita?”

“I made cream of tomato soup with basil and grilled cheese sandwiches for them.”

“Excellent!” Thank goodness for Juanita.

“And they’re loving it,” Cindy added as she
dipped a ladle into a big soup pot and poured the contents into a white bowl.

“Do we have enough desserts?” I asked.

“We did a lot of baking this morning—pies, brownies, cakes—when we found out that they were going to meet here,” Cindy said. “The pies in the carousel from Sunshine Food Supply were…uh…old. We got rid of them.”

Thank goodness they did. I slipped into a clean white apron and plucked an order from the rack. “Cheeseburger, medium rare, and fries.” That was easy. I plucked off a couple more orders and worked on all three. It was good to get back into the swing of cooking. An hour zoomed by, and it seemed like only five minutes.

“The crunch is just about over,” Juanita said. “We’re okay.”

“Thanks so much, ladies. I really appreciate it.”

Both Juanita and Cindy shooed me out the door. They both worked like crazy, and I vowed to give them both a raise. Someday. When the diner was back on its feet.

I walked into the diner and people were sitting everywhere. There were still a lot of empty seats—the diner seated about seventy-five, and only about forty people were present—but I wasn’t complaining.

As I walked around with pots of decaf and regular coffee, grinning from ear to ear, I knew that I’d joined the ranks of ACB and Laura Tingsley.

But I needed a theme: “Hawaiian floral explosion” and “First Lady” were already taken.

I looked down at my dark denim jeans and navy blue polo shirt. It was slimming, and casual. Perfect diner attire.

I felt like I was walking on sunshine. Here I was in tiny Sandy Harbor, New York, with a coffeepot in each hand, in my own diner, on my property, and I had customers.

I had finished refilling everyone’s coffee cups, so I fixed a large tray with the various desserts and began passing them out. No charge for dessert today, or even coffee. I’d let Chelsea and Nancy know that it was on the house. I felt like I was welcoming them into my house, and I wanted them to return.

I met lots of new people, and got reacquainted with others, many of whom remembered my family coming to Cottage Number Six every summer and when I worked at the apple orchard.

“Don’t let that health inspector thing bother you, dearie,” said my former communications professor from Oswego State, Mrs. Leddy. “That sexy cop from Texas will get to the bottom of it.”

I wanted to believe her, but this was the same professor who still maintained that the Internet would never catch on.

I’d already decided to muddle through on my own, either with or without Ty’s help. I’d done a pretty good job so far. I was the one who’d followed through on the muumuu clue.

Right about now, Ty should be getting a warrant to search ACB’s house. I wondered if she would associate me with the sudden warrant.

If she could add two plus two, she would. I was the one inside her closet. I was the one with the fishy story about a tour of historical homes.

“Mrs. Leddy?”

“Yes, dearie?”

“Do you know who is the president of the Sandy Harbor Historical Society?”

“Why, I am, dearie.”

My luck continued. I should buy a lottery ticket today. “Have you ever thought of a tour of homes, maybe as a fund-raiser?”

“We used to do it at Christmas, but we haven’t done a tour in years. It was just so much work, and most of it centered around getting the houses clean and presentable.” She tugged at my arm to get me to bend over, and whispered in my ear. “You can’t believe some of the housekeepers in this town. Terrible!”

“Have you thought about trying it again?”

“We can’t get a volunteer to coordinate it.”

“I volunteer!” This job would be a good opportunity to make more friends in the community.

“That would be wonderful, dearie! I’ll tell the board of directors of the historical society.”

“Do you think they’ll go for it?”

“Absolutely! It was our best fund-raiser.”

“Well then, Mrs. Leddy, I’ll get started immediately.”

“Bless you, dearie.”

I let her get back to her meeting about the American Legion’s roof.

Just then I heard the president of the Legion ask
for suggestions as to where they could hold events like card tournaments and wine tastings and whatnot until the roof was replaced.

I raised my hand. “You could hold them right here, Mr. President. The Silver Bullet is at your disposal.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Thank you, Trixie. That’s very generous of you.”

There was a murmur of comments about Mr. Cogswell’s poisoning that happened just inside those double doors, but it was Mrs. Leddy who saved the day.

“If any of you believe that Trixie Matkowski would poison anyone, you need a shrink. She’s Porky and Stella’s niece, for heaven’s sake. She was the cutest little girl—always walking around with a grape lollipop. And, wow, could she swim! And the poor thing is divorced now. He was fooling around on her, you know.”

Several pairs of eyes grew round, probably not because they just heard my life story in a couple of sentences, nor because they might have heard just about the same thing earlier from Mr. Farnsworth at the fire barn, but in amazement at how Mrs. Leddy could equate my innocence with grape lollipops, swimming, and being cheated on.

The president asked for a vote as to whether they should hold their indoor fund-raisers at the Silver Bullet. Most all the hands were raised. The “ayes” won.

Several people jumped up to shake my hand and to thank me. I felt accepted, and I loved the
fact that the Silver Bullet would be busy, because people would still order food at their events. I’d have specials and discounts, and I would donate a share of my profits to the fund-raiser, but at least the diner would be busy.

Suddenly I felt like I’d slammed into a brick wall. I was dead tired, even zombielike. Time to get some sleep.

I gave everyone in the front of the diner a cheerful wave good-bye and ducked into the kitchen.

“You look like something that Blondie dragged in,” Juanita said, reminding me again of how Blondie dragged in a piece of ACB’s gardenia muumuu. Was Ty searching her house for the garment at this very moment?

“I’m going to get some sleep,” I said. “Is everything okay here?”

“Go!” Both Juanita and Cindy waved me away. “And Chelsea and Nancy have the front covered.”

“When do I have to come back to cook? Or is Bob back?”

“Bob is still out,” Juanita said. “Come in after you get some sleep.”

I was beginning to think that Bob didn’t exist.

I plodded over to my house and was greeted by Blondie. She nudged my leg, wagging her tail. I patted her soft head and under her chin.

“Do you have to go out, Blondie?”

The dog got up, hustled down the front stairs, and walked to her favorite spot. When she was done, she hurried back inside the house, probably fearful that I would abandon her like her previous owner.

She walked at my side, up the stairs and to my bedroom. I was too exhausted to change into nightwear, so I plopped on top of the comforter.

It felt heavenly.

I didn’t know how long I’d been sleeping when I felt something wet on my lips. Ty Brisco kissing me was the first thought that entered my mind. He had hung his cowboy hat on the bedpost, and he was snuggling in next to me. I felt the bed shift.

Hmm…another kiss. This time it was much wetter. More like a lick. Ty?

No. Blondie.

She was stretched out on the bed, next to me. Her head was on the other pillow, and she was staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

She looked at me and closed her eyes.

I glanced at the clock. Three in the afternoon. I got up, hit the bathroom, and when I came back, Blondie was stretched across two pillows.

I grinned. “Oh no, you don’t. Move over, you bed hog.” I gave her a gentle nudge, and she moved enough for me to slide in next to her.

I tried to get back to sleep, but a steady parade of suspects filed past me, with ACB as a drum majorette, leading the parade.

Then there was Mark Cummings, Roberta’s brother, the surly deliveryman for Sunshine Food Supply. He was at the diner around the time of Marvin’s demise.

And let’s not forget the anonymous woman—perhaps ACB, also—who ordered a case of mushrooms
to be delivered to the Silver Bullet, when no Matkowski had ever allowed a mushroom to enter its hallowed silver walls.

I figured that Mayor Rick Tingsley and probably ACB and Sal Brown made offers to Aunt Stella for her little corner of the Sandy Harbor, now my little corner. She’d turned them both down.

Would they have tried to close me down, thinking that I’d sell to them? If one of them had a grudge against Mr. Cogswell the Third, it would be like eliminating two birds with one stone.

Mr. Cogswell and I were the two birds!

I thought of Mr. Cogswell as a seagull, scavenging for meals. I preferred to think of myself as a…flamingo—a pretty fuchsia color with long skinny legs.

I liked Sal Brown. He was absolutely devoted to his wife. He had twinkly eyes and seemed to be a sweet guy. But I’d been wrong before, such as in my choice of a husband.

I didn’t have an opinion on Laura Tingsley. She seemed okay, having the guts to go bootless and to wear white shoes before Memorial Day in Sandy Harbor, one step down from the North Pole.

Mayor Tingsley was another story. He was blunt, rude, and pushy. I didn’t know yet what his mayoral skills were, but he was definitely absent the night of the American Legion roof collapse. He should have been there helping, or at least checking on the townsfolk.

And I totally didn’t like the way he was pushing
me to sell—shoveling the guilt on me like quick-setting concrete if I didn’t let him bring jobs to the area.

I’d never be able to concentrate on my long to-do list for the diner if I kept hashing and rehashing the same suspects. I had to solve this soon.

There was a knock on the door. I willed whoever it was to go away. But Blondie hoisted herself up, jumped down from the bed, and headed downstairs.

I quickly ran a brush through my hair and ran a cold washcloth over my face. I noticed that my eyes were brighter and less puffy, and I felt more alert.

I answered the door. It was Ty Brisco, dressed in full deputy sheriff regalia. I opened the door and stifled a yawn.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want to hear what’s new in the Cogswell case.”

He bent over to pet Blondie, and her tail wagged in sheer pleasure. I couldn’t help but look at his lips, remembering my Blondie-induced dream.

Snap out of it!

I motioned for him to come in. “Did ACB confess? I hope so.”

“No. In fact, there was no gardenia dress in her closet or anywhere else in her house.”

My stomach dropped. “Come on, Ty. I saw it. I touched it. I picked it up from the bottom of her closet. It had a chunk of material missing that matched the piece that Blondie found.”

“It’s gone.”

“Gone? What did she do with it?” I asked. “And that proves that she’s guilty, doesn’t it?”

“No. Not yet.”

I needed coffee or perhaps something stronger like a giant milk chocolate candy bar with almonds—I’d heard that almonds are healthy.