Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (16 page)

She paced around then, her feet slapping the stone floor, the sound of it echoing back from the stone walls. The noise gave her an idea, and she began jumping up and down on the floor, listening to the sound of her foot strikes.

“Well, if there’s anything here, I can’t find it. Any ideas?”

Logan raised his eyebrows into question marks and grinned. “Multi-dimensional portal?”

She threw up her hands at that. “Fat lot of help you are.” She bit into her lip and stared at the coffin. “Dead men tell no tales, right? I guess we’d better get back.”

Logan followed her out of the mausoleum, then pushed the door shut after them.

Rachel was quiet as she climbed into the truck and said nothing all the way back to the diner. It wasn’t until she had climbed out of the truck and shut the door that she spoke to Logan.

“Thanks for going with me, Logan. I know you probably think I’m crazy…”

“Nah.” He smiled boyishly and waved the thought away.

“And you’re probably right. But I appreciate the backup.”

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, the only sort of familiarity he would allow himself. “I’ve always got your six, you know that. No matter how crazy things get.”

Her face lit up and she turned toward him, her cheeks dimpled and her eyes bright. “I really do appreciate it.”

He pulled the door open and held it for her, ever an officer and a gentleman.

Inside, the first lunch customers had begun to gather. They didn’t usually come that early, except on chili day, but Rachel figured it was Friday, so people wanted to hurry through the entire day and its doings. Diane was in the back with a party of four and Rachel realized with a smile that the girl had become a full-fledged waitress in her own right. She was smart and congenial and hard work didn’t scare her. She would go far in life, Rachel mused.

Among the customers at the counter was Sheriff Dooley. He turned on his stool when the door opened and targeted Rachel with his steely eyes. There was no humor in his face, or conviviality. It was hard and dark and serious.

“Just the woman I’ve been waiting to see,” he said darkly, his voice low. “Could I have a word with you somewhere…private?”

Rachel checked his face, felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was up, something Dooley didn’t want the rest of the town overhearing. Good or bad, Rachel was desperate to know what that something was.

“Sure. We can go out back.”

He slid off the stool and let her lead, his size twelve work shoes scuffing the floor. The man was tired and rightly so and the stress of it all had left shadows beneath his eyes.

Rachel pulled open the door and stepped out into the light which filtered through the old oak. She stepped a few feet across the gravel and stood waiting, her arms folded over her chest and her face appropriately serious.

“You find anything out at the mausoleum just now?”

“Not a thing.” She sighed dolefully and shook her head. “I touched and moved and poked every urn, every stone, every inch of that place.”

“Sorry to hear that. And I’m even more sorry to say this.” He looked down at his feet, put his hands in his pockets. Rachel hadn’t thought it possible but when he looked up, his face was even darker, more fierce. “You’re gonna have to stay away from this from now on.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, aside from the obvious safety issues, there are numerous reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“Because I said so.”

Her eyes narrowed and she sneered at him. “You sound like my mother.”

“Look, Rachel, I like you. You’re a smart lady and you’ve got a good nose. Heck, you were probably a cop in a previous life. But you can’t play at this anymore. You’ve got to leave it go.”

Now she felt hurt rather than insulted. “Did I step on some toes? Overstep our friendship? What?”

“I can’t tell you why, but you have to stay out of this. It’s important that you stay out of this. Heck, we’ve shared a lot of dances over the years and more often than not, you’re right on the money about things. But this time, you’re in over your head. You’re in over
my
head. I can’t protect you if you get into this any deeper. In fact, I’ve got orders to arrest you and put you in protective custody if you stick your nose in it again.”

Rachel straightened her back, let her arms hang. “You got orders from somebody over your head. A superior.” She watched his face and body language for signs of faulty deception. “Maybe this somebody is involved in the case. Maybe even could be implicated if the case is solved.” Still, she watched his reactions. “No, not that. A superior. Somebody higher up than you. The mayor? No. Another agency.”

Dooley swallowed and his hands worked in his pockets.

“That’s it. Somebody from another agency came to you and told you to stay out of it. They’ve been watching and they want us to leave it alone. FBI? CIA?”

“Rachel, I told you. I can’t tell you who or why or how. But you have to leave this alone.”

“It’s the SBI isn’t it? Or ATF?”

“I can’t say.” He shook his head and took his hands out of his pockets.

“Okay. All right. I don’t want you to get in trouble and I don’t want to end up in jail. I’ll do what you said and keep my nose out of it. But let me ask you just one question: What about Horace’s murder? Don’t you want to find who did it and put them away?”

“Rachel, nobody wants that more than I do. And I can tell you one thing: The circumstances surrounding Horace’s murder will become clear in time and the person responsible will pay. Just not now. And we don’t have any control over that.”

Rachel sighed loudly and cocked one hip off to the side. “So we have to just sit idly by and wait for some unknown powers that be to solve all this?”

“We do.” Dooley took one step toward her and for reasons she couldn’t explain, Rachel suddenly felt threatened. “And I promise you, that if I catch you mucking around in all this, I will slap a pair of cuffs on you and throw you in a cell. Am I making myself clear?”

She listened to the deep, menacing tone of his voice, stared into his steel-set face. A shiver ran up her spine. “Okay. You have my word. I won’t go to the cemetery again. I won’t get involved in this in any way. I’m out.”

“Good.” Dooley turned and made ready to go inside. As an afterthought, he held the door for Rachel, who passed quickly inside without another word.

She took up her apron and pad and set to work, all the while watching Dooley’s progress toward the front door. She had given her word and she would keep it but just now, she needed the sheriff out of her sight.

From the kitchen, Rick watched her watch Dooley, curious as to what the sheriff had said to his wife that he couldn’t hear. She was strangely silent now, twitchy though, with a tension about her that he had never seen before. He couldn’t leave the kitchen now, but as soon as he could, he would be all over her until she told him every word that Dooley had said.

Rachel finally exhaled once Dooley had left the diner. She was angry at him and a little scared, which was something she wasn’t used to. She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

T
he last of the lunch customers left precisely at two and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Instead of a steady trickle, the customers had come in two giant waves, stressing out the staff and overfilling the waiting area. Finally alone, Rick put together plates for everyone and Rachel transported them to the counter.

In what had become a break-time ritual, Rick drew himself a tall soda and slid it in front of his plate. He managed to drain half the glass before coming up for air, then turned to his sullen wife and smiled.

“So, are you going to tell me what Dooley wanted, or do I have to tickle it out of you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she glanced around to make sure they were alone. “He wanted to tell me to keep out of it. The case, I mean. He says I have to stay out of it or he’ll lock me up.”

Rick pulled a face and shook his head. “Why the sudden change?”

“Apparently, it comes from on high.” Rachel took a bite of her salad and grimaced. “These green peppers are a little bitter. Did we change suppliers?”

“No. It just happens sometimes.” He studied her face for a moment longer, then peered down his nose at her. “And are you going to stay out of it?”

“I am. I promised him I would and I will. Apparently, somebody came to see him and gave him orders to lock me up if I stick my nose in it.”

“What does this mean?” Diane asked.

Logan and Rick exchanged a meaningful glance. “I think it means that somebody else has jurisdiction now,” Logan said.

“Originally, I thought it might be somebody involved down at the cemetery. Like maybe the mayor or somebody might be implicated and they told Dooley to drop the case. But his body language didn’t give me any of that. He reacted to the suggestion of a higher agency, but I couldn’t tell which one.” Rachel frowned, pushed her salad away and started on her spaghetti.

Rick, noting the confusion on Diane’s face, smiled and chuckled. “My wife is like a human lie detector. She really should have been a profiler. I once tried to throw her a surprise birthday party. She was there to open the door for the first guest.”

Rachel laughed at the memory. It was true. She had a way of just sensing lies.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Macy asked, accusatorially.

“Well, I guess instead of trying to find Horace’s killer, I’ll focus on finding Mike…if that’s something you’re still interested in, Diane. If not, I’ll drop it too.”

Diane nodded and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Oh yes. After that note you showed me, I just have to find out what happened to him. It won’t affect my plans either way, but I have to know.”

“There we have it,” Rachel said. “I’ll concentrate on finding Mike and forget all about Horace, the cemetery and the midnight marauders.”

Rick leaned over and hugged Rachel’s shoulders, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“Yea, yea. But will you bail me out if I fall off the wagon and get thrown in the pokey?”

“No. But I will post your mug shots on the internet.”

R
achel pulled the front door open later that night and headed straight for her computer. No feeding cats, no drink, no potty break. There was only the computer and whatever background noise existed in the world.

Rick had seen her like that many times. She was a woman possessed, so focused on the tasks at hand that she might as well be the only person on the planet. It would last exactly as long as it took her to solve her mystery, then she would return to her normal, convivial self.

“That’s okay,” Rick said to the air. “I’ll take care of the cats. Don’t you bother yourself.” He expected no answer and received none, so he continued. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine when I come back. I assume the Pinot Noir is okay?” He waited for several beats, then continued. “That’s what I thought.”

Rachel was still as stone, the only part of her body in motion was her fingers. She found three more databases to search, then realized that she could try a few more image programs to run the pictures through.

Several hours later, Rachel yawned and slid in between the sheets. She was exhausted and still had nothing to show for her efforts. There was nothing left to do but snuggle next to Rick and get a few hours’ sleep.

B
y the time the alarm sounded the next morning, the streets were rivers and the gutters had turned into waterfalls. Rachel frowned and shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. She heard Rick behind her, stumbling into the bathroom and fumbling with his things.

The morning ablutions were completed automatically, no thought required. Morgan Fairclaws and Jean Clawed van Damme were oddly absent, though the break from tripping over them was a relief. Rick and Rachel swapped places so that she could get dressed and ready for work. Then they convened back in the kitchen, guzzling the last few swallows of coffee in a feeble attempt at waking up.

Rick set his mug in the sink and swiped the car keys off the counter. There would be no healthy walk this morning, just a nice, dry ride.

Rachel yawned every few minutes and rubbed at her eyes. Missing sleep was getting to be a nasty habit and she was starting to feel the effects in spades. The rain would no doubt keep a lot of the customers at bay and while that was bad for business, it was very good for Rachel.

As karma would have it, they were the first to arrive at the diner and with a moan, Rachel began filling napkin holders and marrying ketchup bottles. She tried to find some energy in a cup of strong coffee, but it was elusive at best.

She had almost finished her opening rituals when Macy and Diane stepped through the door together. Rachel raised an eyebrow at them, then forced her cheeks back into a smile.

“Good morning, ladies. Nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, Rach,” Macy yawned. “We were up late last night.”

“The two of you? Together? You had a girl’s night and you didn’t invite me?” Rachel mock pouted and then smiled.

“We called, but Rick said you were busy with something.” Macy hung up her coat and tossed her purse in the office. “We were watching
Steel Magnolias
and
The Notebook
last night.”

“Oh, sorry I missed that.” Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head. Just then, the bell over the door clanged and Rachel glanced in its general direction. “Good morning. Take a seat wherever you like.”

It was still a half hour before they usually opened but Rachel had never once had the audacity to throw someone out of her diner for being too early. She didn’t recognize the man and his countenance and demeanor screamed “out-of-towner” but she kept it to herself, deciding that she just didn’t have any more room for another mystery on her plate.

“Diane, you’re up.” Rachel tilted her head toward the customer and winked. Then she started filling the shakers.

Her assessment of the customers’ ebb and flow had been way off. Most of the people trapped downtown because of work decided to eat in the diner that day. Those who normally ate at the food truck by the park came to the diner instead. Still more people came in to get out of the rain.