Last Diner Standing (12 page)

“Tariq?”

Even in the dark, with nothing but street lights illuminating her face, I could see her grin. “Yep.”

“Wait, Janelle’s cousin?” Axton turned down the radio and gazed at Roxy in the rearview mirror.

“Someone’s got it bad,” I said, parroting her words back to her.

“Shut up.” She gazed out the window, still smiling.

Five minutes later, Axton pulled across the street from Marcus’ bungalow on the southeast side of town. It was dark, no lights on inside. We’d decided that Roxy and I would go up to the house, knock, and if no one answered, we’d slip around back and break in. Axton would keep watch and call us if someone came home.

I was about to get out of the car when Marcus’ front door opened and the bald man I’d seen at the strip club stepped out of the house, followed by the weasely, thin guy who’d accompanied him into Freddy’s office.

“Duck,” I said.

Without asking any questions, Roxy flopped over in the backseat and Axton scrunched down behind the wheel. I hunched over, but popped up a bit to view Baldy’s progress.

He swiveled his head and glanced up and down the street as he walked to a dark SUV parked on the curb in front of the house.

“What’s going on up there?” Roxy asked.

“Remember that bald guy, Clay, who went into Freddy Libra’s office at The Bottom Dollar the other night? Well, he just came out of the house.” When the SUV turned around, the headlights hit Axton’s car. I waited a few seconds then peeked again. “Coast is clear.”

“Did you get a license plate number?” Axton asked.

“Damn. No,” I said.

I gave Axton the speedy version of my theory that someone had a hit out on Sullivan. “Could be this Clay guy. Sullivan’s face went blank when I mentioned his name.”

“I hate to say this,” Axton said, “but I wonder if you should call Sullivan for back up.”

“If we find anything in the house, I’ll call him.” I grabbed two penlights and four latex gloves out of my purse, then handed Roxy her share.

“Does Ma know you’re swiping these?”

“She’d understand.”

As Roxy and I walked toward the house, I scanned the street, tripping over a dirt clod as I checked out the homes either side of Marcus’ bungalow. Christmas lights decorated a few eaves and one front yard held an inflatable Santa that swayed back and forth in the breeze. Other than that, no movement.

“You’re real graceful,” Roxy whispered.

“Shut your pie hole,” I said as we approached the front door.  I knocked, knowing there’d be no answer, but I needed to be sure.

When no one came to the door, we walked around the side to the tiny back yard.

I shined my light on the door knob as Roxy dug out her Allen wrench. She made quick work of the lock.

What had Baldy and his sidekick been looking for? The money? And where was Marcus? Had he and Crystal gone into hiding? The questions compounded on one another and I still hadn’t come up with any answers.

I handed Roxy her flashlight as we stepped into the small galley kitchen. The place was a wreck. Every cabinet door stood open, the contents strewn all over the counters and floor.

“Shit,” Roxy said.

“Let’s check out the rest of the house.”

Picking my way over crap spilled in the kitchen, I tiptoed into the L-shaped living room/dining room combo and swept my penlight over slashed seat cushions, a broken TV, the smashed side table. “Let’s go. Either Clay already found what he was looking for or it’s not here.”

“Whatever ‘it’ is,” Roxy said.

We ran out of the house and through the yard. My eyes flew over the houses and cars along the street as we made our way back to Axton. All was quiet and still.

“Well?” he asked when we climbed in.

“Baldy trashed the place.”

“You guys okay?” Axton started the car and glanced over at me.

“Yeah, fine,” I said.

Marcus’ house was trashed, he hadn’t shown up for work, and he drove Crystal to The Bottom Dollar last night. Where was he now?

Baldy had been looking for something. Probably the money. That was the only thing that made sense.

And if Asshat stole the money and the surveillance stuff on Sullivan, then who took all those notes and pictures in the first place? Baldy? His sidekick?

Something didn’t feel right. I was off somewhere. I was missing pieces of the puzzle.

Axton reached over and grabbed my hand. “You all right?”

I squeezed his fingers. I loved this guy. He was the brother I never thought I wanted. I turned my head and smiled at him. “I’m good.”

He dropped Roxy off at her apartment and she slapped my shoulder. “If you can’t sleep tonight, call me.” She hopped out of the car and jogged into the building.

Axton propped his elbow on the door. “Still having trouble sleeping, huh?”

“Only sometimes.”

“If you want to talk—”

“Ax, I’m fine.”

He remained quiet until he pulled up to my apartment. “Let me come inside and check things out.”

I leaned over and kissed his scruffy cheek. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. See you later.”

We both exited the car and he tossed me the keys before sauntering off to Stoner Joe’s truck.

When I got to my apartment, I called Janelle and told her about Vi. “Asshat gave her an STD and stole her credit card.”

Janelle blew out a breath. “Lucky for me, I quit sleeping with that fool a long time ago. What else is going on?”

I told her about Marcus and Baldy and the trashed house. “I wonder where he’s hiding. And how did he and Crystal hook up?”

“She’s probably screwing him, too.”

“Would Marcus do that to Sheik?” I glanced at my hot pink Christmas tree. “And Sheik was also seeing someone named Brenda who works at Huntingford Bank and Trust. Thought I’d head over there after I get off work tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll go with you. Tariq can watch the kids when they get home from school.”

Janelle confronting one of Asshat’s ex-girlfriends? Not a good idea. “I can probably handle it.”

“Forget it. I’m going with you. If she tried to kill Asshat, I’ll know it.”

“How?” I asked.

“I’ve seen that look in the mirror a few times.”

Roxy popped a piece of gum in her mouth before filling the coffeepot with water. She ripped open a Mylar pack of rich-smelling grounds and poured them into the filter.

“Janelle and I are going to talk to the bank woman. You in?” I asked around a yawn. I’d had a nightmare last night and woke up at two o’clock. I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep and as a result, I was gritty-eyed and groggy.

She glared at me, but the effect was spoiled by her black top hat decorated with a mini stuffed bear that wobbled every time she moved her head. “I told you to call me if you couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m all right,” I said as I moved around the diner and pulled up the shades.

Dillon sat at the counter and spun in circles. He wore earbuds and sang falsetto to the music.

Roxy walked by and stuck out her foot, putting a stop to his twirling. She yanked a bud out of his ear. “Get to work.”

“Doing what, man?”

“Go to the kitchen and see if Ma needs help,” I said.

I think he rolled his eyes, but it was hard to tell through that mop of hair. “Fine.” He hopped off the stool and slouched toward the kitchen.

“It’s not just me, right?” she asked. “He’s annoying?”

“Very,” I said. “Now, what about going with Janelle and me?”

“Yeah, but I have to get home early. Tariq and I are going to the movies tonight.”

“Don’t let him get fresh. Girls who wear bears on their hats shouldn’t give away too much on the first date. It’s unseemly.”

She snorted.

My brain remained in a fog despite three cups of coffee. So when my customers hit the door, I was a little slow in telling them to come back for lunch. Ma pulled me aside twice to remind me.

“Tell them about lunch, toots. Tell them about our chicken soup. That rat bastard Rudy is not going to win, you hear me?”

Yikes, Ma was getting mean. I’d seen her competitive streak a time or two—nearly lost my hand in a game of spoons—but this was getting ridiculous.

By eleven, we had another large lunch crowd. And like the two previous days, my tips were dismal.

I got texts from my sister and Sullivan, but I didn’t have time to answer either one until after three, when my last customer left.

I pulled out my phone to call Jacks when Janelle walked in. “Hey, girl.” She glanced at Roxy and her top hat. “Tariq said he asked you out? What are you going to wear?”

I headed to the office to make my call. The new kid was asleep on the floor behind the desk, so I nudged his rear with the toe of my tennis shoe. “Go help Ma.”

He gave me a look of disgust and stood, stretching his skinny arms above his head. “All you guys do is ride my ass. Jeez.” He shuffled out the door.

I parked myself on the desk and called Jacks.

“Hey,” she said, “how’s the car thing coming along? I talked to Allen and if you need a loan or anything—”

“No, I’m using Ax’s car for now. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to remind you about dinner tonight. Don’t be late or Mom will have a cow.”

“Jacks, I’m not going to dinner. I’m too busy with this Janelle thing.”

She tried for several minutes to talk me into it, but I held firm. I knew she wanted me to play nice with Mom. Christmas would be even colder if my mom decided to freeze me out.

“I’m sorry, sis. Not tonight.”

I think she was a little ticked off I didn’t fall into line.

My next call was to Sullivan.

Chapter 13

“Have you found the money?” Sullivan asked in lieu of greeting.

“Nope. Any word on who put out the hit?”

Predictable pause. “If you find anything, call me immediately.”

“You could always ask instead of demand. And it’s a two-way street, you know. If you hear anything about Asshat, let me know.”

He hung up without saying goodbye.

I stared at the phone in irritation. He really was a jerk sometimes.

I walked back into the dining room and helped Roxy finish cleaning up while Janelle played with her phone.

When we were through, Roxy grabbed her fuzzy bear head purse and her long Victorian coat from beneath the counter. “Okay, losers, let’s go find Asshat’s cougar.” 

“You guys go ahead,” I said. “I’ll tell Ma we’re leaving.”

I walked through the kitchen door, heard the roar of the running industrial dishwasher, and found Ma and Ray standing toe to toe. Of course, Ray dwarfed her by almost two feet.

“We need more chicken and this was my goddamn kitchen long before you got here. Your father and I started this business, don’t forget.”

“Need room to bake the rolls,” Ray rumbled.

This was an explosion waiting to go boom. Every day Ma bitched at Ray about trivial perceived mistakes—too much cinnamon in the rolls, not enough salt in the ham—and Ray always,
always
, let that shit slide. The fact he was speaking in words and not grunts was monumental.

I wedged my way between them. “Listen, you two.” I tried to shove Ray back with my arm, but he was like a mountain. “We’re not going to get anywhere unless we can compromise.” I shoved at Ray again and this time he took a step back, but the low-browed scowl didn’t disappear.

“Hate this lunch thing,” he said.

“Well, that’s too damn bad because we’re doing lunch,” Ma said. She tugged on her sweatshirt and adjusted her specs. “I’m going to crush Rudy’s Roundup, and you’re either with me or against me.”

Ray made a series of unhappy, guttural sounds.

“Ma, is there any way you could cook the chicken the night before and warm it up?” I asked.

She crossed her arms, casting her eyes to the side, and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And Ray, Jorge could get here two hours earlier and help with the cinnamon rolls and biscuits. I know he could use the extra money.”

Jorge stuck his head between the vertical plastic strips that blocked the entrance to the cooler. “That’s true. Could always use more cash.”

“Ungh,” Ray said with a nod.

“See? We can all get along here.” Crap, I was starting to sound like my sister, Jacks—the poster girl of diplomacy. “We’re okay?”

Ma shrugged.

Ray lifted a shoulder.

Jorge exited the cooler with a grin.

The new kid was AWOL.

I left the kitchen and moved through the dining room. This lunch thing was putting us all on edge.

I shrugged into my coat and left the diner. The temperature had dropped and the sky was overcast. At least the weatherman wasn’t calling for snow. Yet.

I climbed into the backseat of Janelle’s PT cruiser. “There’s trouble brewing. Ray was using human words.”

Roxy turned to look at me. “Lunch is bullshit. I’m so over it, I could yark.”

Word.

Huntingford Bank and Trust had two locations—one in the swanky part of town and one next to the mall. We decided to hit the swanky one first.

“Okay,” I said as we exited the car. “I think one of us should do the talking.”

Roxy smacked her gum. “And I suppose it’s going to be you?”

Janelle put her hands on her ample hips. “Yeah, why does it get to be you?”

I eyed them both. “Because it’s your ex-husband and you’re too emotionally involved, and you,” I pointed at Roxy, “look like the Mad Freaking Hatter.”

“I have a certain style. Don’t hate, hater.”