Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (13 page)

Mark appeared at my side. His tall, lean frame a direct contrast to the fat content of the food he prepared daily. Handsome enough, though, even for a guy at least twenty years
Valorie’s
senior. This time, as I looked him over, something about the firm set of his lips jogged my memory, as if I’d seen that same look elsewhere, on someone else.
Strange.
I’d never before had that impression. Why now?

His smile revealed a nice flash of white teeth.
Reminded me that I needed to make an appointment for Hardy.
Dentures,
ya
know.

“What can I do for you,
LaTisha
?”

“Have a seat first of all. Don’t need a crick in my neck from straining to see
ya
.”

His expression became guarded, and I knew he must be wondering if I’d seen him yesterday. That’s when a
lightbulb
lit in my brain, giving me an idea how I could get more information from this close-mouthed man. I gave myself a mental pat on the back and launched into my speech. “You see, I-uh-am looking for a
job,
and you’re looking for a cook. I can do all that and you know it. I’ve fed this town for
years
right out of my own kitchen.”

Mark sat down and stretched his feet into the aisle. “Well, now. That’s some kind of resume.”

“
Ain’t
a body here
who
, when they took sick, hasn’t had them a pot of
LaTisha’s
chicken soup delivered right to their doorstep.”

Tammy entered the dining area and began filling salt and pepper shakers and replacing the paper napkins of breakfast and lunch with cloth ones for the dinner rush.

Mark rubbed his chin. “Rumor is Marion fired you.”

That again.
“I quit, and my alibi is airtight, if that’s where your mind is headed,” —which is more than I can say for you—
,
I wanted to say but wisely refrained. “Anyone who knew Marion for more than a week knew she was one contrary woman. It’s a miracle we worked together for the two years we did without me for real laying my hands on her. But I’d had it with her
bossin
’ and told her so. She fired me in the same breath I told her I quit.”

“Ah.” Mark breathed the syllable. “So you’re not going to be an easy one to work with.”

“I’ll do what you ask me to do, but don’t go telling me how to cook this or that. Your menu needs some work, too. Serve something besides fried foods and you’ll double your business.”

He looked amused. “Sounds like you want to be both manager and cook.”

“You just hear my opinions on matters and we’ll have our peace.”

He laced his fingers and twiddled his thumbs. “
Haven’t
had anyone else apply for the job.” He stuck out his hand. “Welcome aboard,
LaTisha
.”

 
I frowned at his outstretched fingers. “You hold on there. We’ve not talked money, and money is one of my favorite subjects, especially when it’s my sweat
earnin
’ it.”

Mark’s hand withered away. “I was planning on paying about eight dollars an hour.”

“I
ain’t
no
young buck out of high school.”

He ran a hand over his hair and down the back of his neck. “Well, how about eight-fifty?”

“I want eleven and an understanding.”

“Eleven!”

“You won’t be sorry if you hire my
cookin
’. A teenager, on the other hand. . .”

His chin dipped to his chest. “What’s the understanding?”

I shifted forward and pitched my voice low. “Two dollars an hour of my salary goes to Tammy. If you tell her, I’ll burn everything I cook.
You
feelin
’
me?”

“I’d just fire you.”

Widening my eyes, I shook my head. “After all the people you’ll attract with me as cook, you’d have a riot on your hands if you fired me.”

“That’s very generous of you. Uh, I mean about Tammy.”

“She needs to get in school before her brain can’t do
backflips
no more. I’m
gonna
get her there. Plus I’ll have enough to cover my tuition.”

“I’ll make you a deal. If my business doubles within two months of hiring you, I’ll give you a dollar an hour raise.”

Spitting on my hand, I stuck it out. Mark blanched a bit, but snuck his hand out. I slapped it loudly with mine and made sure to make real good palm contact.

“You can start tonight.”

His hopeful expression almost made me laugh. “Nope, I need to talk to Hardy about this and get a good night’s rest. There’ll be a lot of preparation and rearranging of the menu before I ever set foot in that kitchen. How about next week? I’ll come in tomorrow and we can decide what dishes go and what stay.” Scooting sideways like an overgrown fiddler crab, I hauled myself to my feet. Turning back to him, I pointed at the booth. “Those things need to go. Get yourself some decent seating.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Good.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.
Valorie
was headed in our direction. I had no doubt she would gain his full attention. “One more thing,”

Mark raised his brows a notch.

“Does the name Jackson Hughes mean anything to you?”

“Sure, he was the assayer in our town legend.” He turned, saw
Valorie
, and motioned her toward him, his expression concerned.

She smiled at me and I grasped her hand, feeling her pain, seeing the tears forming in her eyes. “How are you, baby?”

She blinked, releasing a sluice of fresh tears.

Mark held his arms open to her and she went willingly. “
Shh
. . . I’m here.”

Muffled sniffles were the only sound until she leaned back in his embrace, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Dad.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Apparently it’s no secret now.” Hardy finished chopping the last of the squash and onions and pushed the cutting board at me.

“Mark’s a smart man. He knows what this is going to look like to the community. Here he is on the city council and his—well, hmm, guess they weren’t married. Anyway, she turns up dead and he then admits that he is the long-lost father Marion was always
complainin
’ about. Sure people will think he has the perfect motive. Knowing Marion as everyone did, she wouldn’t tolerate his interference in raising
Valorie
.”

Getting to my feet, I stabbed at the two thick, breaded pork chops in the skillet. They smelled like heaven. Pink juices ran out of the holes I’d pierced.
A few more minutes.

I rustled around in the drawer of pots and pans before I found a smaller skillet and set about frying a couple of pieces of bacon.

“Regina’s patrons sure will be disappointed to know those hair clippings weren’t the result of an evil mind,” Hardy said.

“Quite clever, in my book, of him to think of such a thing.”
I covered the bacon with a lid. “With studying the way they use DNA for such things nowadays, I’m a might disappointed I didn’t figure that out.”

“You said you thought Mark looked familiar somehow when you talked with him. If you’d had more time, you would have figured out the similarities in their features, though
Valorie
favors Marion more.”

“I sure hope so.”

“What made you decide to work for him?”

Hardy’s tone held something more than a note of surprise. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to attach an emotion to the tone. “I’ll need the money for tuition and it’ll give me a chance to be close to the townsfolk on a more regular basis.”

“Stuck in a kitchen?”

“You don’t mind it when I’m stuck in this kitchen.”

 
“That’s because I get to see you when you’re here. I’ve gotten used to having you all to myself.” His brown eyes were earnest.

 
I covered his hand with mine to take the sting from my words. “You know I got to work to pay for the college. Your retirement check isn’t enough.”

“I know that.”

But he wouldn’t look at me. I squeezed his fingers. “
You missing
the work?”

 
“No.” His shoulders seemed to slump more than normal. “I enjoy getting up when I want to and
doin
’ what I want to do, but without you here, and with Lela gone, it gets powerful lonesome.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “So
you
askin
’
me to quit before I ever start?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Don’t rightly know what I’m
askin
’. I know it’s been your dream since you was a kid to have a degree. That’s why I was so pleased when you married me instead. But it’s been ticking inside you all these years to go back, so I want to see you do this, and our empty nest
gives
you the time to work on it.” He picked up the knife and tapped the handle against the table. “I just didn’t think retirement would be like this. I spent most my life
raisin’
up in the
mornin
’ and hustling to work, then coming home to you and the babies. . .”

I felt something give in my chest and went to him. This I could understand. And his admission warmed my heart. He didn’t want me to leave him alone. “It’s a new chapter in our lives.”

“I know,” he tilted his head to look up at me, brown eyes sincere. “It helped me to know you were feeling it, too. Until I talked to you the other night, I wasn’t sure what it was
gnawin
’ at me.”

I pulled his head to my waist and stroked the grizzled gray and black head. He needed me, wanted me, and I didn’t need to be forgetting that. Even if our babies were all gone, the good Lord had left me with a precious man to care for and love on. I didn’t need to be making decisions without him.

My line of vision was pulled to the wall where the smiling faces of our children beamed down on us, the clock itself a silent reminder of time’s passage. The harder I tried to keep up, the faster the seconds ticked. We’d be grandparents soon, but even still, our children lived too far away to visit often. Besides, they needed room to build a life for themselves.

My eyes roamed the kitchen as I opened my mind to the first suggestion that offered a doable solution. My gaze landed on the cutting board of chopped vegetables and a
lightbulb
flashed on in my head.

“Hardy, honey, I do believe I have a solution to your dilemma.”

Hardy affected his best formal pose and stoic face as he practiced his
maitre’d
skills. I was playing the customer. Good practice for his new job as waiter.
Yup.
That’s what we figured out between us. If I was to be away from home acting as chief cook, then he would hire on as a waiter.

“Good evening, ma’am.
A table for two?”

I decided it best to put his staunch stoicism to the full test.
“You suggesting I need two tables for myself?
Can’t you see it’s only me?”

Unaffected, Hardy bowed his apology.
“In that case, ma’am, a table for one with two chairs.”

“If I could move quick, I’d box your ears, Mr.
Martyr’D
.”

“Good for me you’re well grounded.”

Hmph
! He was having way too much fun. “You best get back to being nice before I change my mind about helping you. Pretend the
Blightman’s
are arriving for dinner.”

Hardy cleared his throat and resumed his dignified position. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs.
Blightman
. Will there be a table for two this evening, or are you expecting company?”

“That’ll do. Not quite so formal though. People want to think they’re remembered.”

“I used their names.”

“Try again.”

“Good evening, Hal and Beth, a table for two or are you expecting company?”

“The
Blightman’s
aren’t Hal and Beth.”

Hardy rolled his eyes. “I was making it up.”

“How about something
more homey
? Act like they’re one of your best friends.”

Hardy rubbed his belly and grinned at the imaginary
Blightmans
. “I’s hungry, let’s eat.” He gave me a cheeky grin. “That better?”

“Mark won’t like it none.”

Hardy covered his face with his hands, his words coming out garbled. “Don’t you have someone else you can make crazy?”

I pushed myself to my feet and gave him the once over. “It’s time for you to visit Sasha and Livy and see what they can do for you.”

His hands fell away from his face, his expression incredulous, “That’s a woman’s store!”

“There’s a department for men in the back, and,” I said, pointing with my eyes at his pants, “they don’t have polyester. We need to get you in something where you not
steppin
’ so high.”

A notorious non-shopper, Hardy’s idea of new clothes meant the thrift stores in the city, the section where everything was marked down because it was so out of date no one wanted to buy it. And even then I could only get him to go once a year, if I was lucky.