Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (5 page)

She slid the bar to the left and slowed it down, then paused just as the robbers came around the corner and faced the camera. Frame by frame, she advanced until she had the best possible picture of them. Two had ski masks, one did not. She screen-captured a close-up of his face and dropped it into her image software. Then she played it again, more slowly this time, until something caught her eye.

The robber without the mask looked right at the camera as he approached it. Then one hand came up, slipping over so that his arm crossed his chest and he made a sign with that hand, extending the thumb, pinky and forefinger.

“Damn,” she said softly.

”Gee, Morgan Fairclaws, I don’t know where your mommy is with your food,” Rick said loudly.

“Coming,” Rachel called, more loudly this time.

She clicked quickly through to the social network, typed in Diane’s name. Her page came up but there were no more than three posts a day on any given day; some days there were none. Obviously, she had been too busy with real life to worry about her virtual one.

Rachel had to scroll back over two months before she found a picture of Diane with a man. It was marked simply as “Mike and me.” Rachel smiled and clipped the picture into her software.

“What are you doing out there?” Rick yelled. His tone had become increasingly more frustrated, definitely bordered on angry.

“Nothing…just…I’m checking email,” she snapped back.

Rachel rushed to open the facial recognition software, typed in her access code. Truth be told, the software was supposed to be Rick’s. The access code had been created when she had first hacked the database. Such was life for a lady with more skills than patience.

The software came up empty after only a few minutes and Rachel sighed dolefully. Dropping it into the image search engine was useless as well, since it produced a score of men who looked similar to Mike but were not, indeed, Mike.

“Gotcha!” Rick yelled from over her shoulder.

Rachel screamed and banged her knee hard on the desk. “Blast you, Rick! Don’t do that to me!”

“What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to feed the cats. I have the wine all open and poured and you’re still sitting here…doing what?”

“I wanted to check today’s video from the surveillance cameras. I thought I might find a useable picture for the cops.”

“And did you?” He put two hands on the back of the chair and rested his chin on her head.

“Watch this.”

She played the video for him, slowed down the part which featured the three men. When the man raised his hand in the sign, Rachel paused.

“There! See that?”

“What is that? Some sort of gang sign or something?”

“No. It’s American Sign Language for ‘I love you.’”

“I’ll be darned. And he looked up at the camera, just like he knew it would be there.”

“Ah, ever the expert detective, darling. Now check this out.” She clicked open the image software, showing him the two pictures. “The one on the left is from the security video. The right one is Mike…Diane’s boyfriend. I found his picture on her page.”

Rick whistled through his teeth. “I think we may have a problem.”

Rachel nodded and saved her work. “We might.”

Rick took her hand and led her to the sofa. When she resisted, he pulled her down beside him.

“But I still have to feed the cats,” she objected.

“I already fed them.” He took note of the awe in her expression and smiled. “I figured that whatever you were doing out here was important, so I just took care of it.”

“I love you, husband.” She planted a good, warm kiss on his lips and nuzzled his bristly cheek.

“As well you should.” He winked at her then, his smile slowly fading. “So, do you trust Diane?”

“I did…right up until I found out that her ex is a bank robber.” She frowned at that, her eyes getting that faraway look in them.

“Let’s postulate for a moment. Suppose she’s in on it. Showing her the video would tell her that we’re onto her. She might bolt and we’d never catch the others.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t know a thing about it. Follow this for a moment. Maybe Mike robbed the bank under duress. Maybe he dumped Diane off so she wouldn’t be involved or get hurt. But he knew she would be inside that diner. He knew that the camera was there. That’s why he made that sign. He wanted her to know that he still loved her and he would come back for her.”

“Or maybe he wanted her to know that he still loved her and would come back for her because she was in on it.”

Rachel thought for a moment. “Do you think we should show her the video? I mean, if she’s guilty, she’ll bolt just like you said. And if she’s innocent, it’ll just make her sad.”

Rick drew her close, hugging her shoulders and rubbing her arm as her head sunk to his hard chest. “It’s not up to you to decide whether she should be sad or not. But what if we did this: What if we showed her the video, but didn’t let on that we knew it was Mike. If she pops right up and says that it’s Mike, then we know she isn’t part of it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we can be pretty sure that she’s guilty of something. Maybe just protecting Mike.”

Rachel sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hate this.”

“You know what I hate? Having a great movie on the DVR and not watching it.” He reached for the wine glass as Rachel sat up. Once it was safely in her hand and she had taken a sip, he pulled her feet into his lap and began rubbing them gently.

Rachel clicked on the TV and started the movie. The wine was good. Her husband was the best. And
To Have and Have Not
was her favorite old movie. The sofa, the wine and the movie devoured her and she let the problems all slip away.

W
hen Rick and Rachel arrived at the diner the next morning, Diane was already there, marrying ketchup bottles and rolling silverware into tight napkin cocoons. Rachel walked straight to the counter and set down her laptop bag, tossing a smile Diane’s way.

“You’re here awfully early, Diane. A real go-getter, eh?”

Rick slipped into the kitchen and began preparing the meatloaves. He had mixed the meat the night before, but he would need to bake them all before the lunch rush arrived. “Where’s Macy and Logan?” he called through the little window.

“I haven’t seen them yet this morning. Are they generally here by now?” She waited for a beat, then added, “I wasn’t sure what time we opened, so I came in as soon as I woke up.”

“They’re usually here not long after we are,” Rachel explained. The bell tinkled against the door just then and she spun on her stool. “There you guys are!”

“Wow! You act like we slept in or something,” Logan laughed.

“Before we get started, I want you all to see something.” Rachel opened her laptop and turned it on. “Rick has already seen this but I want your opinions too.”

“Okay, whatcha got, girl?” Macy dropped onto the next stool and let her body slop onto the counter.

“So, I accessed the surveillance video from the cameras out front. And I found some darn good footage of the bank robbers. I was hoping I would recognize the one without the mask, but no dice.”

Diane strode to stand behind Rachel, peering over her shoulder. Logan stood to her right, towering above the smaller women.

Rachel moved the play bar to where the men first came around the corner, then let it play out in slower motion. She paused when the camera was tight in on Mike’s face.

Behind her, Diane gasped, her hands flitting to cover her mouth and beginning to shake. “Oh my God!” Her voice was deep and terrorized. “That’s Mike. My Mike.” Tears began to gather in her eyes.

Everyone turned to look at her at once, but Rachel was the first to recover. “Your Mike? The boyfriend who dumped you yesterday went straight down the street and robbed a bank?”

“I…I don’t even know how…how could he have…?”

Suddenly, Rachel felt sorry for her. She put one reassuring hand on the girl’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Then I think you need to see this.”

Rachel played the video again, pausing it when she came to the part where Mike made the sign.

Diane burst into tears then, the river running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Her breath hitched and gulped and she swiped at the tears, trying not to lose it too horribly. “Oh, Mike,” she whispered. “Why?”

“Is there any part of the other two that you recognize?” Rachel replayed the video slowly. “The clothes maybe? The eyes?”

Diane leaned in close and squinted. “Sorry. Nothing.”

“Okay, honey. No matter.” Rachel sighed and sat back.

“What does this mean?” Diane asked. “I mean, that was our sign. We used it at parties when we were across the room from each other and couldn’t really yell. But it was like he was looking right into my eyes when he did it.”

“The fact that he did it,” Rick interjected from the kitchen, “means that he knew you would either be here to see it, or you would see it later on the video.”

“How could he have known that?” Diane wanted to know.

“I dunno.” Again Rick disappeared behind his mountain of meatloaf pans.

“Maybe he did it under duress. You know, he was forced to do it. Maybe he dumped you to keep you safe. There are all kinds of unanswered questions here.”

Diane moved to a nearby stool and sat down hard. “Too many. I mean, why did he just dump me like that? Right across the street. And why did he rob that bank? And why did he make that sign – our sign – right in front of the camera? It’s like I never even knew him at all.”

Rachel’s head snapped around at that, her brows crushed together, her lips a thin line. “Maybe you didn’t.” She paused, thinking. Then, “Did you ever see his driver’s license?”

“Sure. It was right inside his wallet and he got carded a few nights ago buying some wine.”

“No, I mean, have you ever held it and read it?”

Diane opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again. “No, I never did.”

“How about his car registration? Did you ever see that?”

“What are you thinking?” Rick asked.

Rachel waved him away, waited for an answer from Diane.

“I never saw the registration. No.”

“How about a bank statement? An IRS form? Anything with his name on it?”

Diane shook her head.

Rachel turned back to the computer, her face taut, her eyes unblinking. She tapped a few keys, then leaned over the counter to rummage around in her bag. When she sat down again, her face was blissful.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked her. His tone was dry, deep, without affection.

“I need to get into the IFSS. They’ll have pictures that the net doesn’t have.” Already she had inserted two memory sticks, typed a few keystrokes, and switched sticks again. Her eyes were bright and shining. She was in a state of near euphoria.

“No!” Rick shouted, heading out through the kitchen door and straight for Rachel. “No, no, no you don’t!”

She was still typing, her fingers flying over the keys, data streaming over the monitor of her laptop. By the time Rick reached her, it was too late. She was in.

“Thirty-five seconds. I have thirty-five seconds before they notice the breach.” She typed even as she spoke. The picture went into the system, her fingers blurred over the keys. “Gotcha!”

The screen lit up red then and the computer began a mad sort of beeping sound. Rachel actually screamed, her hand flying out to disengage the memory sticks and shut the thing down.

“Dammit, Rach!”

She spared a nervous glance at him, then sighed. She slammed the laptop closed and leaned back against the seat. “They would have had to trace me over eleven server bounces in eleven countries. That would take them at least forty-five seconds. I was only in for twenty-one. They couldn’t have made me.”

Rick was fairly shaking. “I told you. Never again.”

“I know,” she responded softly, her eyes finally meeting his.

Everything in the diner had frozen. The only sound was the light traffic outside and the steam escaping from the dishwasher. No one dared move.

Without another word, Rachel slid from the stool, the laptop scooped up and tucked under her arm. She hurried into the back room, her head down, walking fast.

Another few moments passed, then Diane asked, “What just happened?”

Rick looked at her. He blinked. “Something she promised would never happen again.” He turned and left then, preferring the company of his pots and pans to that of his friends.

“Rachel obsesses. She can’t stand unanswered questions.” Macy swallowed and flashed a grim smile at Diane. “She also has hacker super powers. She just tried to hack into the Image Forensic Search System to find a picture of Mike.”

Rachel passed behind them like a ghost. “I didn’t just try to hack into it. I totally hacked into it.”

“She’s done it before?” Diane asked in the same tone one might use to refer to an addict.

Macy nodded solemnly.

“I hate to interrupt this hen party,” Rick called to them. “But I have to point out that we’re running a restaurant here. And it’s time to open. And it’s meatloaf day.”

“I’ll put the chalkboard sign out,” Rachel said, busying herself and trying to make amends for breaking her promise to Rick.

“Don’t worry,” Macy said to Diane. “It won’t get bad until lunch time. Just ease into it with breakfast, okay?”

Diane nodded. Her mind was still stuck on Mike’s face from the video and on Rachel’s attempt to solve the mystery.

She wasn’t sure which frightened her more.

Chapter 3

T
he breakfast crowd had been thin, though Rachel supposed that was mostly due to the fact that people were saving their appetites for lunch time and meatloaf. Diane had shadowed Macy and learned all she could from her. Macy was ever-cheerful, ever-helpful, and fast on her feet. In the end, Diane decided that if she were to become half the waitress that Macy was, she could be proud of the accomplishment.

Tensions ran high for the first two hours of the day as Rick and Rachel moved about the restaurant without so much as a glance at each other. Whatever argument was to come, it would build throughout the day. The ensuing explosion would be massive and, hopefully, private.