Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (7 page)

Rick had a large collection of guns. Some were for hunting, some for protection. The bulk of the collection was just that and he never fired them. Those were kept in a gun locker in their bedroom and he rarely took them out. Tonight, he pulled an old Glock from the safe, popped in a new magazine and holstered the weapon. As he began to shut the safe door, Rachel put one hand on his arm and frowned.

“Don’t I get a gun too?”

“You do not.” He shut the door and gave the cylinder a decisive spin.

“But I’m a good shot. You know I am because you taught me.”

“I don’t care. You won’t be shooting anybody tonight.” He brushed past her, knowing she would follow, and not caring.

“What if somebody comes up to the truck? I’ll be defenseless. What am I gonna do?”

“Scream.”

“Scream?” She made a face at him and folded her arm over her chest.

“Yes. You scream and I’ll come running.”

“Sometimes, darling, you confound me.”

He kissed the top of her head and threw the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “And that’s just the way I like it.”

She pulled another face at him, mocked him silently. She was still rooted to the spot when Rick called to her.

“You coming or not?”

T
he apartment complex where Mike lived was on the west side of town, near the site of the old cotton gin. The gin hadn’t been in operation for over fifty years, but the tilted hulk of its main building remained. When there was a full moon, you could see it silhouetted against the moon, its lopsided form standing high above the hill behind it.

Rick circled the complex, turning right at each intersection, eyeing the parking lot and the lay of the buildings. There were four buildings in all, each with its own parking lot. He was looking for Mike’s Honda and by the time he spotted it, he knew exactly how it was all going to go down.

He pulled into the east lot slowly, shutting the lights off before he faced the building. There was an empty space next to the Honda but it would have been too obvious and would not have given Rachel a good vantage point to watch for interlopers. He parked directly across from the Honda instead, backing in so that his tags were obscured by the bushes which lined that side of the parking lot.

He turned off the engine and checked the clock. Three-thirty. Mike should be safely in bed, oblivious to the search of his car.

“Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he began, his eyes scanning the parking lot and building. “You stay here. Watch that staircase, and that one. Keep an eye out for cars coming into the lot. If you see anyone…” then he leaned across her and opened the glove box, pulling out the small flashlight inside “…You shine this right on that bare stretch of wall there. See? Anyone who might spot it will think that it’s a street lamp strobing behind the trees or a set of headlights turning.”

“Okay.” She checked his face and nodded vigorously. He was all business now. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark and crinkled at the corners.

“I’m going to slip over there and unlock the car with the remote. I’ll toss the glove box and console, print the steering wheel and gear shift. Then I’ll lock the doors manually and come straight back.”

“Okay, darling.”

“Now, if anything goes wrong and it gets to the point where the cops show up, you drive away. But slowly, so they don’t get suspicious. You drive straight home and wait for my call.”

“But the police won’t come. It’ll be all right, right? I mean, you won’t get caught.”

“I don’t plan to. But you never know. And I want you to be safe. I want you out of it.”

She dove into his arms then, shaking a bit and feeling the first telling sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. “We don’t have to do this. Honest. I can drop it. I’ll let it go.”

“No way! We’re this close.” He pulled her back and gazed into her eyes, offered her a reassuring little smile. “Now, just stay out of sight and let me do what I do best.”

He pecked her lips and gave her shoulders a little squeeze. Then he was out of the truck, clicking the door shut as quietly as he could. He nodded to her and winked and then he was sprinting across the parking lot.

R
achel watched him go, bit into her lips as she thought of all the things that could go wrong. Then her eyes shot to one staircase and then the other. Everything was quiet and Rick had caught a few breaks. There wasn’t a streetlight within fifty feet of the car, so the shadows offered him extra cover.

She glanced at the parking lot entrance next, then back to the Honda. Rick had already climbed into the car and was busy with his work.

The rhythm started over again. Staircase, staircase, parking lot entrance, Honda. Over and over again, without a hint of movement anywhere. From where she sat, she could see no sign at all of Rick. He was very good at staying out of sight while he worked.

Then she saw it: a dark shadow was moving quickly down the left staircase.

Rachel aimed the flashlight at the bare wall and turned it on. She could see from the beam that she was shaking slightly.

“Come on, Rick. Come on,” she whispered to herself.

Then the passenger’s side door opened and she saw something large and dark roll out.

The man was almost to the car now and Rachel sucked in a large breath and held it. Inside her chest, her heart felt like a blacksmith’s hammer.

She watched as Rick dropped to the pavement and clicked the door shut, her breath still held. Then he rolled under the Honda.

She nearly panicked at that, her breath escaping in a long rush and her eyes bugging out. What was Mike doing up at that hour? Why would he have come down to the car in the middle of the night unless…

Mike pushed the button on his remote and never knew that the doors were already unlocked. The headlights flashed and the interior light came on.

Rachel thought she was going to die when Mike turned the engine over.

Mike was about to drive the car out of the parking space and Rick was still lying under it.

Rachel almost panicked. Her hand was on the key, ready to turn over her own engine. She wasn’t sure what good it would do, but she briefly considered driving the truck right behind the Honda, stopping Mike from backing up, perhaps buying Rick some time.

Then she saw it. Rick’s large form rolled out from under the Honda and straight under the car next to it.

Now, Rachel was hyperventilating. The Honda’s wheels began to roll just as Rick pulled his legs under the other car. She watched as the car backed out of the space, then shifted gears and drove slowly away. Heart still hammering, she waited for the car to be completely gone and fought the urge to run to Rick’s side.

As soon as the headlights turned onto the road, Rick rolled out from under the car and galloped across the lot. Rachel scooted out of his way and watched as he climbed into the truck.

He collapsed against the back of the seat and shut his eyes, breathing hard more from fear than from physical exertion. “God,” he groaned. “That was close.”

“Did you find anything? Did you get the prints?”

His head swung slowly in her direction. “Of course I got it.” Then he smiled and produced the print cards and an evidence bag. “I also got a sample of his DNA.”

Rachel squinted into the darkness and managed to make out a cigarette butt inside the little bag. “Oh, my gosh! You really
are
good.”

“I keep telling you that.” He tucked the bag and cards into his satchel and started the engine. “Now, let’s go home. I need a change of pants.”

Chapter 4

R
ick and Rachel dragged into the diner at seven, looking less than peppy. Diane was already there, loading napkin holders and marrying the ketchup. Her head snapped up as the door opened and the bell tinkled. Her lips stretched into a smile and she stood upright.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in, would ya?”

Rick glared at her. “Is Logan here?”

“Right here, man,” Logan stuck his head out the kitchen door. He whistled through his teeth and smiled. “You look like nine miles of bad road.”

“It’s been a long night,” Rachel sighed.

“So, how did it go? Did you get the prints?” Diane raised her eyebrows into question marks.

Rachel made a slashing motion across her throat and shook her head.

Diane nodded, cringed outwardly.

“Listen, Logan, I need to run an errand. Can you get things started up for me here? I won’t be but half an hour.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, buddy.” Logan punched Rick playfully on the shoulder and smiled. “I got this.”

“Thanks.” Rick punched Logan back and turned toward the door. “I’ll just drop these off at my friend’s and be right back.”

Rachel pecked him on the cheek and smiled. She watched as he wandered out the door, dragging his feet, his shoulders slumped.

“Coffee?” Diane asked from behind the counter. No matter the answer, she had already begun pouring and she slid the cup across the counter to Rachel when she was done.

“Thanks, hon.” Rachel took a long sip of the coffee and moaned in delight. “I think I’ll be drinking a lot of this today.”

“So, how did it go? You got the prints?”

Rachel pulled the keys out of her pocket and passed them to Diane. “There wasn’t any registration or much of anything else in the car. But Rick managed to pull quite a few complete prints off the car. Problem is, Mike came down to the parking lot not long after we arrived. If Rick wasn’t still fast as lightning, he’d have gotten caught.”

Diane sucked in a gulp of air, her face looking pained and sad all at the same time. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you guys do this. If Rick had gotten caught…”

“Relax. Everything’s fine. And we got a DNA sample off a cigarette butt to boot.”

“You guys are amazing.” Diane heard the bell tinkle and looked toward the door. “Morning, Macy. Coffee?”

“Please! Just put an IV in my vein and get it over with.” She slid onto a stool and slumped forward until her elbows rested on the counter.

“Tough night?” Rachel asked with a smirk.

“Remember my sister, Eve?” Macy sighed.

“The one getting the divorce?”

Macy tapped one finger and on her nose and nodded. “Exactly. Late call. Lots of crying. Manic laughter.” Macy growled loud and deep in her throat. “I think it was about three when she finally hung up.”

Rachel patted Macy’s hand and frowned. “Remember when a lost night of sleep didn’t even faze us?”

“You mean in our youth? Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth?”

Rachel laughed. “Those were the days.”

The two women meditated over their coffee for a moment, Diane the only thing moving. Then Macy said, “So, how was your secret mission last night?”

“It went well. Rick is dropping the evidence off with his friend now.”

“Good. Good.” Macy chugged the rest of her coffee, then leaned over the counter to place the empty cup in the dish pan. “Shall we turn that sign?”

Rachel nodded and slid off her stool. The door was only six steps away, but every one of them felt like a personal victory. Then she took on the Sisyphean task of turning on the register and booting up the system. It was a thing she had done a million times before (heck, she had designed the system and programmed it, too) but this morning, she felt like a Neanderthal trying to work a toaster.

Rick stepped through the door just as the welcome screen popped up. His face was likewise slack and pale. Where had the youthful exuberance and zest of their college days gone, anyway?

“All done,” he said as he passed, brushing her cheek with his lips.

“Thank you, darling.” She shut her eyes and felt that moment of nirvana that always came over her when she felt Rick’s touch.

“How long until we know?” Diane whispered in her ear and only then did Rachel realize that Rick had left her side and been replaced by Diane.

“Probably not long. Have patience, hon.” Rachel forced a smile and brushed past on her way to the counter.

Diane nodded curtly and was about to say something when the bell distracted her. She wandered off to gather her pencil and pad and within seconds, her face slipped into a mask of congenial servitude.

T
he breakfast crowd had been thin that morning, but Rachel supposed that was due mostly to the fact that the fire station was hosting its annual pancake breakfast. The lunch crowd, however, reached near meatloaf proportions. People began streaming in at eleven-thirtysharp and came in a steady flow until at least two.

The sheriff and two of his deputies wandered in at one-thirty, taking the last booth in the back. They looked tired and the older deputy was spattered with mud, his nails caked with dirt and his face streaked from sweat. He made for the bathroom immediately to wash up and Diane didn’t wait for him to return. She grabbed her pad and headed directly for their table.

Rachel put out an arm to stop her, drawing a quick gasp and a confused scowl from the girl. “You can have the tips, but let me take this one, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Rachel. You’re the boss.”

Rachel smiled, hoping that Diane wasn’t too peeved at the intrusion. Sheriff Dooley watched her approach, his face brightening a bit. He sat taller in the booth and pulled down the front of his shirt so that the rumpled appearance melted into a boyish dishevelment.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Rachel said with a wide smile. “What can I get you to drink.” She unfurled three menus from the crook of her arm and stood at the ready.

“I’ll have sweet tea and my man in the rest room will have a cola.” Perhaps Dooley had picked up on her eagerness, for he looked away then, trying to wiggle out from under her prying gaze.

“And you, deputy?”

“Coffee. Please.”

“Coming right up,” Rachel said and started toward the counter. It struck her that she would have a harder time interrogating the lawmen than if they were sitting at the counter. Heck, she would practically have to slide into the booth with them if she wanted any sort of in-depth discussion.