Last Diner Standing (11 page)

Chapter 11

The next morning at the diner, while Roxy and I made coffee and refilled salt shakers, Ma ran around putting the final touches on chicken pot pies. Although her bright red lipstick matched her Mrs. Claus sweatshirt, it looked a little wonky—like she applied it without a mirror.  Or in the dark.

“I’ve made twenty pies since last night, girls. Hopefully we’ll have a good crowd today.” She parked on one of the stools and cradled her cup of coffee. “I didn’t realize how tiring this lunch business would be.”

“Hasn’t Ray been helping?” Roxy asked.

“All he does is moan and gripe about the extra work. It’s easier to do it myself.”

I’d known Ray five years, and in all that time, I’ve heard maybe fifty words out of the man. Moaning and griping? Couldn’t imagine it. Maybe he just grunted twice as loud?

“I talked to Sullivan last night,” I said.

Ma pursed her lips in disapproval. “I don’t like that man, and even though he helped you out, and I’ll always be grateful, I still don’t like him. Don’t trust him, neither.”

“He’s uber hot,” Roxy said. “I saw a picture of him. No wonder Rose is all smitten kitten.”

I set down the salt and placed my hands on the counter. “I am not smitten. And do you want to know what I found out or what?”

Roxy glanced at Ma and wiggled her eyebrows. “Someone’s got it bad,” she whispered.

“Fine. Never mind.” I went back to pouring salt with my nose in the air.

“Just tell us, toots. I’m not getting any younger over here.”

I caved and told them about the hit on Sullivan.

Roxy put her hands on her hips. For some unfathomable reason, a stuffed unicorn the size of a football was sewn onto her blue skirt. “If people are gunning for Sullivan, you’d better steer clear of him.”

Ma frowned. “That sounds like good advice, toots.”

It probably was. Didn’t mean I had to take it, though. 

Our early customers started trickling in, so we quit yapping and got to work. Ma found the new kid hiding behind the desk in the office and forced him into the chicken suit.

By our mid-morning slowdown, Ma strode back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. Ray walked to the counter with my omelet and Roxy’s cinnamon roll.

“Ungh. Can’t use oven. Driving me nuts,” he mumbled. That was practically a soliloquy.

“Just tell her, Ray,” I said. “Tell her you don’t want to do lunch.”

“Ungh.” He stalked back to the kitchen.

Roxy’s blue eyes grew wide. “I’ve never seen Ray that pissed. Not even when Ma wanted to put plastic spiders on the fried eggs for Halloween.” That hadn’t gone over too well with the customers, either.

I was about to take a mouthful of omelet when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the number. “Good morning, Mother. How are you this blessed day?”

“We’re having brunch at the club on Saturday. Ten o’clock.”

“Good for you. You go, girl.” I forked a bite of eggs into my mouth.

“Rosalyn, do not try my patience. I’m still irritated you left my party without saying goodbye. I have not forgotten.”

“I don’t understand the brunch announcement,” I said, after I’d swallowed.

I heard her take a deep breath. “You are coming with us. To brunch. On Saturday. At ten o’clock.”

“I have to work.” As she should know, since I’d worked every Saturday for oh, the last five freaking years.

“You can miss one day.”

“Actually, I can’t.” 

“Fine. Dinner tomorrow night. Seven on the dot. Don’t be late.”

“But—” I heard a click. After I shoved the phone back in my pocket, I realized I’d been played. Of course she knew I had to work. But she also knew her opening salvo would be rejected. Man, she was good. Still, I had other things to do. Getting Janelle cleared was on the top of my list. Finding out who wanted to kill Sullivan, a close second. Castigation over dinner? Not so much.

“Your mom needs to unclench that ass and live a little,” Roxy said. She unwound the cinnamon roll until it was one long strip. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

After I finished eating, I called Ax.

“Axman. Speak.”

“Hey, I have two more peeps for you to look up. Marcus Walker, works at the muffler place on the Boulevard. And some bald guy named Clay. Knows Freddy Libra.”

“That’s it? Bald and Clay?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I accept your challenge, Rose Strickland. And if I dig anything up, I’ll bring it over tonight. I got a new movie,
Invaders from Mars.
”

“Can’t wait. I should be home by five. I’m still looking into things with Janelle.” I hung up and got back to work.

Things picked up that afternoon and didn’t slow down until after three. My feet ached and my tips weren’t much better than they usually were. Mostly because people didn’t like to tip on a freebie meal. Those buy one get one specials were bringing people in, but I wasn’t sure how much extra money Ma was generating.

After my last customer left, I fell into a chair and buried my head in my arms. Roxy sat across from me and propped her feet up in my lap.

“I’m exhausted,” I said.

“Yeah, that lunch crowd is demanding. Some asshole left me fifty cents. That’s an insult.”

Dillon flapped his chicken feet into the diner. “Look at this.” Black singe marks scorched the tips of his yellow feathers. “People threw lit smokes at me. What the hell, man? Who does that?”

I raised my head. “Maybe we should talk to Ma. All of us together. Tell her we think lunch should be off the menu.”

Ma burst through the kitchen door, her arms in the air. “Seventy-five lunchers today, girls. That’s a new record. And Dillon, that chicken suit is a big hit. I told you this would work.”

Roxy raised one brow. “Yeah, she seems receptive.”

Dillon spread his wings and stormed off to change. His feet slapping against the linoleum with every step.

Ma walked stiffly toward us and patted us on the backs. “Good work today. And I have leftover pot pies I can freeze for next week.”

Next week? I was hoping she’d give up on this idea long before next week.

Roxy and I slowly rose to our feet and commenced with clean up.

“What are we doing today? Any new suspects?” Roxy emptied the spent coffee grounds from the machine.

“Thought I’d bop on over to the Clip N Curl and talk to someone named Vi. Apparently she and Asshat were close. And then I thought I’d stop over to the muffler shop again and see what the hell Marcus was doing with Crystal last night.”

“Yeah, that’s an interesting matchup.”

When we finished cleaning the diner, Roxy and I stopped by Paco’s Tacos for a late lunch. After snarfing down a taco each, we hopped onto Ash Avenue.

There was a waiting line at the Clip N Curl. An elderly woman, two men, one mom holding a squirming toddler with a snotty nose, and one teenager with multiple piercings sat in chairs reading out-of-date celebrity magazines. Well, the toddler didn’t. He kept screaming every time his mom set him on the floor to play with his bear.

Roxy and I stood at the reception desk. “But I’m not here to get my hair done,” I said. “I’m here to see Vi.”

“Hang on one second, hon.” The woman behind the desk held up her finger and answered the phone. “Clip N Curl. Sure, we can squeeze you in.” She grabbed a pen and flipped through the appointment book.

Tired of waiting, I walked past her and into the salon. Three stylists cut, coiffed and sprayed their clients. I approached a woman with spiky black hair and funky purple glasses. “Sorry to bother you.”

She slid a straightener over her customer’s long, brown hair. Steam escaped the edges. First she glanced at me, then Roxy. “Love the color, honey. Who does that for you?”

“Thanks.” Roxy adjusted her Alice band and smoothed a hand over a blue lock. “Bonita over at The Shag Shack.”

The woman nodded. “She did a good job.”

“Is Vi working today?” I asked.

She raised a brow and lowered her voice. “She’s supposed to be. But she’s hiding in the back. Tell her to get her ass out here, would ya? If she thinks I’m giving that little monster a haircut, she’s crazier than she looks.” She pointed with the straightener toward the back of the room, past three dryer chairs to a curtained doorway.

“Thanks,” I said.

She reached out and ran her fingers through my ponytail. “You need a good conditioner, honey.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I turned to Roxy and raised my brows.

“My hair’s perfectly conditioned,” she said smugly.

We walked to the curtain and I pulled it aside to reveal shelves of hair product and a washer and dryer. A blonde in her twenties with glittery gold hair extensions removed brown hand towels from the dryer. She wore a hot pink blouse that showed more cleavage than it covered and her pants were so tight, I wondered how she even got them on.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be back here. It’s for employees only.” She eyed Roxy’s blue mane. “Good color on you. Matches your eyes.”

She preened a bit. “Thanks.”

“You’re Vi?” I asked.

Shaking out a towel, she gazed at me warily. “Yeah. Who’re you?”

“She’s Jane. I’m Beth,” Roxy said.

“We had a few questions about Sheik Johnson.” I tucked my hands in my jacket pockets and watched her face. From the tightening of her lips, I’d say just hearing Sheik’s name pissed her off.

“What about him?” With jerky movements, she folded a towel.

“He came into some money recently,” I said.

“Ha, like I’ll ever see any of it.”

“He owed you money?” Roxy asked. “How much?”

“That asshole stole my credit card. And the police wouldn’t do anything because I’d let him borrow before.”

“Did you cancel the card?” I asked.

“Yeah, two weeks after I noticed it was missing. Not only did he give me gonorrhea, he racked up like fifteen hundred dollars on my Visa.” She threw the towel on top of the washing machine. 

“Are you sure he’s the one who gave it to you?” Roxy asked. “The gonorrhea?” she whispered.

“Do I look like a slut to you?” Vi tapped her boob for emphasis. The one with a tattoo that read
Hot Bitch
in Old English script.

“No, not at all,” I said. “So you don’t know where Sheik got the money?”

“He probably stole it from one of his other girlfriends.”

“Do you know who else he was seeing?” Roxy asked.

“I know he saw stripper named Destiny before we met,” Vi said. “And I checked his phone once and found a text from some bitch named Crystal.” She pursed her bright pink lips. “And there was a whore who works at Huntingford Bank and Trust. Brenda. She’s old, like in her forties. She used to text him all the time. Send pictures of herself. When I’m forty, if my tits sag like that, I’ll kill myself.”

From the front of the salon I heard the little kid scream at the top of his lungs.

“I think that’s your next client,” I said.

“No way. I’ll probably cut off his ear. Not going through that again. Do you know how many capillaries are in the human ear?” She studied me with a critical eye. “You need a trim. Maybe some low lights. Come back and see me.”

Never going to happen.

Roxy and I left the salon and climbed into the Honda.

“Think she’s a suspect?” Roxy asked.

“Sheik stole her money, gave her an STD, and cheated on her. We should probably add her name.”

We stopped at the muffler shop on the way back to the diner. But it turned out our big adventure was uneventful. Marcus didn’t show up for work and didn’t bother calling in.

I dropped Roxy off by her car in Ma’s lot and headed home.

Chapter 12

When I got to my apartment, Axton was waiting for me.

“Sorry I’m late.” I stepped over him and unlocked the door. “By the way, Marcus Walker didn’t show up for work today.”

“Dude, that’s always trouble when they don’t show up for work.” He picked up the pizza and a large brown paper bag and followed me inside.

I dropped my purse and keys on the cherry table in the corner. “I know. Did you find any info on him?” I shrugged out of my coat and hung it next to the door.

“First, we need to address your Christmas issues,” he said.

“Ax, I don’t have Christmas issues. But I’m beginning to think you might.”

He dug into the sack and pulled out an eighteen-inch Christmas tree. “What do you think?”

“Um, it’s really pink.” But I had to admit, it made me smile.

Ax dumped my purse from the table and set the tree on top. “See? How’s that? Get the Christmas blood flowing a little bit?” He pulled out a package of tiny lights.

Despite my recent anti-holiday stance, I moved toward the funky tree. Axton was a sweetie. If he wanted me to participate in a little Christmas, I could do that for him. “All right, let’s get this sucker decked.”

He grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

Together we strung the lights over the small tree and hooked mini metallic balls in pink, red, and silver on the boughs. It looked weird. Not traditional. But very fitting in my shabby apartment.

“And now,” he said dramatically, “wait until you see what I got for a topper.” Watching me, he thrust his hand into the bag and drew out a tiny plastic tiara trimmed in pink marabou.

I started laughing. He placed it on top of the tree and stood back, eyeing his handiwork.

“That looks awesome, dude.”

I stood next to him and smiled. “Yeah, it does. Thanks, Ax.”

He threw his arm around my neck and gave me a noogie with his free hand. “You’re welcome. Christmas kicks ass. Deal with it.”

I grabbed plates, the pizza, and paper napkins while Ax snagged two beers from the fridge. “So show me what you found,” I said.

“Don’t you want to eat first?”

“I’ll read while I’m chewing.”

He handed me a folder. “Marcus Walker. Got eight arrests under his belt. Not like, a career criminal, but dude’s got a temper and isn’t picky about offloading stuff that isn’t his.”

I flipped through it, looked at Marcus’ mug shots. A DUI twenty years ago. The charges were reduced to reckless driving and he paid a hefty fine. Two more arrests ten years ago—one for assault, the other public intoxication. Probation on both. He got in an altercation with a girlfriend a year ago, but the charges were later dropped. And he’d been convicted of selling stolen merchandise four separate times. But no details about what he’d sold. Served a one year stint in prison. 

“Marcus likes to fight.” I took a bite of pizza and continued to read.

“Yeah, but only gets into trouble when he’s been drinking.” Ax took a very ironic swig of beer. “Now the stolen stuff, that’s another story.”

“Do we know what he was selling?”

Ax ripped off a large pepperoni from his slice and tossed it in his mouth. “Stolen car parts, mostly. But also a car stereo and a set of rims. But the car parts landed him in prison.”

LD had a garage that used stolen parts. Marcus sold stolen car parts. Sounded like a connection to me.

“I’ll keep looking for the bald dude,” he said.

“Thanks. I think I’ll go talk to Marcus tonight. Want to go with me?”

He shot me a look. “Like Robin to your Batman?”

“Yep.”

I ate two slices of pizza and Ax polished off the rest. While he ate, I texted Roxy to see if she wanted to go with us. If Marcus wasn’t home, we needed to break into the house.

She texted back with a yes, so we stopped to pick her up on the way.

When she opened the car door, Ax held his thumb to his mouth like a microphone. “Playing the role of Batgirl this evening, Roxy Block.”

“Whatevs.” She climbed into the backseat and I could feel the excitement roll off her. “Need me to pick a lock, huh? You know I’ve been practicing at home, trying to improve my time.”

I twisted around and peered at her. “Don’t get too excited, he might be home.”

“You need to have a more positive attitude.”

I chuckled, even though she wasn’t kidding.

“So guess who called and asked me out?” she said.