A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery (21 page)

Moose nodded, satisfied with the explanation.  Everyone else had already gone, each in turn trying to top the other, and now my grandfather was up.  I loved his stories, and there was no one in North Carolina who could fib as well as he could.  He’d taught me at his knee the difference between a lie and a fib, and I still lived by it myself.  A fib was a harmless stretching of the truth, sometimes beyond recognition, but there was no malice in it.  It was something that, on the proper occasion, could even be admired.  A lie, on the other hand, was an untruth told to hurt someone else, and we didn’t stand for that around the diner.

“Well, I was going to tell you about when my son and I were up at the lodge fishing ourselves, but I’m afraid that Doc stole most of that thunder.”

The winner had his breakfast paid for by the rest of the crew gathered, and Doc Frye looked as though he was about to collect when Moose added, “Thunder reminds of lightning, though.  Did I ever tell you all about the time I was electrocuted seven times between the lake and my cabin’s front door?  The first six hits kind of stung a bit, but the last one hit me so hard that my ears shot out like a pair of rabbit-ear antennas. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could pick up stations as far away as Charlotte on a clear day.”

“Did it just wear off on its own, or did you do something special to kill it?” Thelma Johnson asked, the only woman allowed at the table, at least so far.

“Now I ask you,” Moose asked, “why would I ever want to get rid of it?  It’s a great way to keep up with the news, and whenever there’s bad weather coming, I know exactly how to act.”

“Do you run and hide inside so you don’t get hit again?” Doc Frye asked.

“Just the opposite, in fact.  I’m hoping the next time I get a direct hit, I’ll be able to pick up ESPN.”

They each threw a few dollars into the pot.  Moose’s story was good, but today, Doc Frye took the prize.

“Sorry you lost,” I told Moose after he left the table.

He lowered his voice and explained, “I try to lose on purpose every now and then just to keep them all coming back.  After all, it wouldn’t be fair to win it every week.”

“So, do you actually have a topper for Doc Frye’s story?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.  I was hiking on the Appalachian Trail once and…”

I never did get to hear the end of that particular lie.

Moose was interrupted by a pair of folks we’d been looking for since just after the murder.  All of our efforts had been in vain, but somehow, Hank and Margie had managed to walk into the diner all on their own.

“Where have you two been?” I asked as I approached them.  “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Why in the world would you want to do that?” Hank asked, a happy grin on his face.

“You should know better,” Moose said.

“Know better than what?” he asked, clearly confused by the turn the conversation had just taken.

“Hank, you two can’t be in the middle of a murder investigation and just take off like that,” Moose said.  “Surely you both must realize how guilty it makes you look.”

Hank and Margie were clearly stunned by Moose’s comment.  “Murder?  Who was murdered?”

“You haven’t heard about what happened?” I asked, incredulous to hear it.

“Not even a whisper.”  He turned to Margie and asked, “Did you know anything about a murder?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, Hank,” she said as she looked at me.  “Who exactly was murdered, Victoria?”

“Someone killed Howard Lance in our freezer,” I said.

Hank shook his head, as though he didn’t believe it.  “When exactly did this happen?”

When I told him, he let out a sigh of relief.  “Why are you so happy?” I asked him.

“Margie and I were on a plane to Vegas, and we can prove it.”

“Why did you two go to Vegas?” Moose asked him.

Margie answered for him, holding up her ring finger.  “We eloped!”  She studied me for a second, and then asked me, “Victoria, you’re not surprised at all, are you?”  She was clearly disappointed with my reaction.  “You couldn’t have known, though.  We just decided ourselves.”

“No, of course not.  Congratulations,” I said.  In a way, I was a little taken aback.  After all, dating and getting married were two different things, but if they could find happiness together, no matter what their age or the circumstances were, then more power to them.

“Thank you,” Margie answered.  She was beaming like a teenager, and Hank looked pretty pleased with himself as well.

“Why pull the trigger all of a sudden?” Moose asked.  “It strikes me as odd that you’d take off with your shop’s ownership in question like that.”

Hank shrugged.  “Margie talked to Howard Lance right before we left.  There was no reason to stay.”

That agreed with what we’d heard earlier about Margie being spotted with the murder victim, but I decided to keep that to myself for now.

Hank continued, “Honestly, her chat with him was kind of what started the whole thing.  I realized that I’d put too much of my life into that place, turning it into some kind of shrine in Sally’s memory.  I loved my wife more than life itself, and if I could have changed places with her I would have done it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t, not then, and not now.  It’s time to move on, and that means being with Margie.  Whatever happens with the clothes store happens, and we’ll deal with it then.”  He grabbed his bride’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Margie had no comment other than to look up at her new husband with the same dopey grin I got sometimes when I looked at Greg.  I had a hunch that those two crazy kids just might make it.

“Let’s go, Margie.  We’d better go see the sheriff and clear this up,” Hank said.  “We don’t want anything hanging over our heads when we’re trying to make a fresh start.”

I hugged her on the way out, and she whispered to me, “Victoria, I’m so happy.”

“I’m glad for you,” I said.  “Honestly.”

After they were gone, Moose said, “Well, if that doesn’t beat all.  I never saw that coming, and don’t try to tell me that you did.  I knew they’d been keeping company, but marriage?  At their age?  What were they thinking?”

“Tell me, Moose, what is a good age to get married in your mind?” I asked my grandfather.

He shook a finger at me and frowned.  “No comment.  All I’m saying is that the elopement caught me off guard.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” I asked, as it suddenly hit me.

“That Hank Brewer’s never going to get another quiet moment in his life, now that he’s gotten himself hitched again?” Moose asked with a smile.

“I’m telling Martha you said that,” I replied with a grin of my own.

“Go right ahead.  We don’t have any secrets.”

I started to pull my cell phone out of my pocket when Moose added, “Not that there’s any reason to stir the pot if we don’t have to.”

“Agreed,” I said.  “That really narrows down our list of suspects, doesn’t it?  Those ticket stubs clear Hank and Margie of the murder.”

“Two can barely even be called a list,” my grandfather said. 

“We have three candidates now, the way I see it.”

Moose looked surprised by my statement.  “Three?  I just count Bob and Cynthia.  You need to check your math, sunshine.”

“What if it’s someone who didn’t even make our list?” I asked. 

“It’s possible,” Moose said, “but I don’t think so.  If it was someone else, the sheriff is going to have to catch the killer, but if we’ve got the murderer in our sights, we’ve managed to get it down to a coin flip.”

“I hope we’re going to try to use something based more on fact than that,” I said.

He glanced at the clock.  “You’re free for a few hours now, right?”

“I don’t come back in until eleven, when Greg gets here,” I said.

“Then lose the apron and let’s go grill our last two fish.”

I nodded to Ellen, told her that we were leaving, and then Moose and I set out to see if we could figure out which one of our remaining suspects was actually a cold-blooded killer.

“Is Bob even here today?” I asked Moose as we walked into the auto repair shop.

“I’m not sure,” he said.  “Victoria, I don’t mean to put this the wrong way, but I need to go into the shop area alone and see if he’s there.  If he’s not, I want to ask his guys a few questions when the boss isn’t around.  I don’t quite know how to say this, but I’ve got a hunch that they’ll talk a little freer to me if you’re not around.  It’s kind of a guy thing.”

“I understand,” I said, knowing that Moose was probably right about this.

“Don’t let it bother you, I’m sure that… Hang on.  What did you just say?”

“I agreed with you, and don’t act like it doesn’t happen all that often.  Go on, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“I’ll be right back,” my grandfather said, ducking into the shop door before I could change my mind.  I wandered around for a minute, and then walked over to Bob’s office.  I hoped to find out where he was if he wasn’t on site.  Moose and I needed to chat with him, and we might not have a lot of time left before the sheriff decided to cut off our investigation.  I ducked inside and looked on Bob’s desk calendar, hoping to see if he had any appointments, but the thing was a mess, and nearly impossible to decipher.  As I looked around the space, I shot a few squirts of spray into my mouth.  It was a habit I couldn’t quite break, though my husband kept insisting that my breath was always fine.  As I stared at the calendar, I could see that there were dozens of telephone numbers scrawled in different places on it, directions to four different locations, doodles and drawings of airplanes, boats, swans, a few puffy clouds, one house, and at least six different stains, only a few of which I could recognize off the top of my head.  This was useless.  I was about to turn and try to find Moose when I glanced at the wall.  There were no empty spaces on it now.  As I looked closer, I saw that Bob’s receipt for his original land purchase was back in its place!  I started to back out of the room to tell Moose, but then I heard a polite cough behind me.

“Can I help you with something, Victoria?” Bob asked.

I pointed to the filled space amid the frames on the wall.  “I thought that was missing?”

“No, it was never really gone.  Someone from the cleaning crew knocked it off, and they had the glass replaced before they brought it back.”

“You must have been relieved to hear that.”

He shrugged.  “I figured that it would turn up sooner or later.  Now, why are you here?”

I tried my best not to look guilty, though in truth I had been snooping.  “Moose and I were hoping to talk to you for a second,” I said, giving him my brightest smile.

Bob looked around the waiting area.  “I don’t see your grandfather.  Where is he?”

“He’s out looking for you in the shop,” I answered.

Bob swore under his breath, and then said, “Didn’t he read the sign?  If my insurance guy catches anybody back there but my mechanics, he’s going to jack up my premiums on the spot.  I’ll be right back,” he said as he left me standing there.  There wasn’t much I could do but wait. 

The door to the shop opened suddenly, and I saw that Bob was nearly shooing my grandfather out into the waiting room. 

“You can’t go back there, Moose.  Not now, not ever.”

“I was just making conversation with some of the guys,” Moose said.  “It’s not like I picked up a tool and tried to fix something myself.”  My grandfather tried to hide his hands, but not before both Bob and I could see the fresh grease stains on them.

“You worked on a car?” Bob asked loudly.  The ire was clear in his voice.

“Not really,” Moose said, which meant that he had done just that.

“That’s it.  You two need to take off,” Bob said, his patience with us finally worn thin.

“But we haven’t had a chance to ask you any more questions,” I protested.

Bob was adamant, though.  “I was willing to indulge the two of you before, but I have a business to run here.  The only questions I’ll answer from now on will be from the police.”

“I’ve got to say, you’re not very welcoming to your customers,” Moose said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Bob wasn’t about to back down, though.  “Funny, but you have to actually use my services to be considered a customer.”

“I was thinking about bringing my truck by for a tune-up,” Moose said, which all three of us knew was a big fat lie.  Moose enjoyed doing his own maintenance too much to let anyone else ever touch his beloved truck.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.  Now scoot.”

I looked at Moose, shrugged, and he winked back at me.  As we were walking out of the building, he said, “Bob, I’m going to have to think long and hard before I bring it in now.”

“Do me a favor and take it to Newton,” Bob said.  “If you need a list of mechanics, I can draw one up for you.”

Once we were outside, I asked Moose, “Did you have any luck?  I stalled him as long as I could.”  That wasn’t exactly true, but Bob had caught me off-guard.  If I was going to do my own investigations, I was going to have to get much better at it.