A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery (24 page)

“Can I at least stay here with you?” Greg asked.

I was about to speak when Moose said, “Sure you can.  I’ve been itching to get back on the grill for a while now.”  He looked at my dad. “What do you say, son?  Care to lend me a hand?”

“I’d like that,” he said, and I watched with delight as Moose put his arm around his son.

“What about me?” my mother asked.  “I like to cook, too.”

“All three of us will do it,” Moose said with a booming laugh.

“I’ll take the register,” Martha said, and we were all surprised yet again by her willingness to return to her former duties at the diner.

“Then let’s stop lollygagging around here and get back to work,” Moose said.

They each took turns saying goodbye, and after they were gone and I’d given my statement to Sheriff Croft, Greg asked, “Are you ready to go home?”

I nodded as they made me get into a wheelchair before they’d allow me to leave.  “I want to grab a quick shower and change, and then I’d like to go back to the diner, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind?  I doubt I could keep you from the place even if I tried.”

I touched his hand lightly as I said, “You understand, don’t you?”

“Hey, home is where the heart is,” Greg said, “and for us, that’s The Charming Moose.”

And that, among a thousand other reasons, was why I loved my husband as much as I did.

Home, The Charming Moose, was exactly where I needed to be.

If you enjoyed A Chili Death, be sure to try the next in the series,

Chapter 1

It’s important to understand that we had to fire Wally Bain, and if that made us suspects when he was murdered the next day, we had no way of knowing it at the time.  The Charming Moose prided itself on providing good diner food at a fair price to the folks of Jasper Fork, North Carolina, and Wally had not lived up to his part of the bargain in supplying us with fresh fruits and vegetables from his farm when they were in season.

Sheriff Croft had that ‘tough lawman’ look on his face when he walked into The Charming Moose.  Dressed in his police uniform, he took off his cap as soon as he came in.

“Victoria, I need to know about the fight you had with Wally Bain yesterday.”

“What happened, did he come crying to you about it?” I asked.  “You should have seen the last load of spinach he brought us.  It was wormy!”  The season for Wally’s supply schedule was just about finished, and we hadn’t been happy with his offerings for months.  We were on a yearly contract with him, and this delivery had been the last straw.

“So, did you fire him?”

“Technically, we told him that we weren’t renewing his contract for next season, but yeah, we fired him.”

“How’d he take it?” the sheriff asked.

“About what you’d expect from him,” I said.  “He wasn’t happy about it, and when he started yelling at me, Greg and Moose came running.”

“So, the three of you ganged up on him?”

What was the sheriff’s problem today?  He was on edge, something that usually couldn’t be used to describe him.  “Is he saying someone hit him?  We never laid a finger on the man, and if he told you otherwise, he’s a liar.  Bring him in here, and I’ll say that to his face.”

“I’m sorry to say that I can’t do that,” the sheriff said.  “Someone murdered him on his farm sometime between midnight and noon.”