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Authors: Terri L. Austin

Tags: #Suspense, #cookie429, #Kat, #Extratorrents

Last Diner Standing (5 page)

BOOK: Last Diner Standing
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“I’m not the one sending her to jail. I’m telling you, if we take this to a jury, she won’t stand a chance. A plea is her best bet.”

I stumbled to a chair and sat down. “How much time will she get?”

“If I can persuade the DA to play ball, I’m hoping for two to six years. But if he doesn’t make it…”

“She didn’t do this. She doesn’t deserve to spend two days in jail, let alone two years. And what about her kids?” 

“They’ll become wards of the state. Most likely they’ll go to a relative, but if not, they’ll be put into foster care. I’d be doing her a disservice if I didn’t try to get her a deal.” 

Stunned, I gazed at a glass paperweight on my dad’s desk. Janelle was in worse trouble than I thought. If I didn’t find out who put Asshat in a coma, she wouldn’t just miss Christmas with her kids, she’d miss their childhoods.

Chapter 5

I couldn’t go back to the party. Not with Janelle sitting in a cell and Dane slacking off on the case.

Frustrated and needing to vent, I called Roxy.

“What the hell,” she said. “Dane wants her to take a plea? That’s bullshit.”

“I’m going to call Janelle’s cousin, Sondra, and see if I can stop by.”

“Right now? I thought you were at the Strickland Christmastravaganza,” she said.

“Yeah, I need to get out of here. My mom’s driving me batty.”

“Well, I want to go.”

“To the party?” I kicked my heels off and curled my toes.

“No, dumbass, to Sondra’s,” she said.

“Fine, I’ll pick you up on the way.”

Now the trick was getting out of the house without my mother finding out. And there was only one way to do that. The service entrance.

I grabbed my coat from the rack set up in the spare bedroom and snuck into the kitchen. While the caterers flowed around me, filling trays and clinking empty glasses, I slipped out the back door and trekked around the house to the car. 

Roxy was waiting by the curb when I pulled up to the converted Victorian where she rented a room. She hopped in and smacked her gum. “So you survived your mom, huh?”

“Yep.” Barely.

I took Apple Tree Boulevard and headed to the poor side of town. The further south you go in Huntingford, the more run down the neighborhood, block by block, until finally, on the southern edge between Huntingford and the city of Glendale, drug related crime, and even gang shootings, weren’t uncommon.

Sondra lived somewhere between working class and the hood in a dollhouse-sized saltbox with a one-car garage. I’d never met her, but Janelle talked a lot about her. In her mid-thirties, she was small, bird-like, with dark skin and short hair.

When she answered the door, I smiled and introduced myself. “Hello. I’m Janelle’s friend, Rose. This is Roxy.”

Sondra’s gaze swept over Roxy’s cat-card-yarn ball skirt. “Yeah, she’s mentioned you. Come in.”

The house was cozy with blue furniture and an asymmetrical patterned rug. “Take a seat.”

Rox and I parked ourselves on a sofa. “How are you holding up, Sondra? How are the kids?” I asked.

She sank into a chair. “I’m fine. The kids finally fell asleep. They’re worried. Especially Damon. He knows Sheik’s in the hospital, wants to go see him. Sherise keeps asking for her mama.”

“I spoke to Janelle’s lawyer. He wants her to take a plea.”

She scoffed. “Janelle won’t go for that,” she said. “You know how stubborn she is. She’ll fight to the end.”

“What about bail money? Is there any way you can help?” I asked.

Sondra shook her head. “It’s all I can do to make ends meet. I work in a dentist’s office and it’s a good job, but my ex isn’t paying child support, either. Frankly, I don’t know how I’m going to afford two extra kids.”

I pulled the little notebook out of my purse and wrote down my number. “If you need anything, give me a call. Can you think of anyone else who would want to hurt Asshat?”

Sondra laughed. “Everybody. He owes people money, he’s a loudmouth, always struts around like some kind stud.”

“What was the attraction?” I asked. “I don’t see Janelle falling for that type of guy.”

“She wasn’t always so level-headed. And Sheik’s a handsome man. Women do stupid things over pretty men. As soon as Janelle filed for divorce, he quit his job so he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“How does he survive if he doesn’t have a job?” Roxy asked.

“My guess is he does some work off the books.”

“What did he do when he was on the books?” I asked.

“He worked at that muffler place off the Boulevard.”

Little footsteps padded down and hall and Sherise, dressed in a pink nighty with a picture of Dora the Explorer on the front, crept into the room and rubbed her eyes.

“Hey, Sherise, how are you?” I asked. Normally, she ran to me and wanted to play hairdresser whenever I had a study date at Janelle’s house, but tonight she looked so sad and young, it broke my heart.

“I miss my mommy.” She twisted toward Sondra and buried her head in the woman’s shoulder.

Watching her was like a knife in my chest. I couldn’t let Janelle sit in jail, I had to do something.

I glanced over at Roxy. She stared at Sherise, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed. I touched her arm. “You ready?”

She jumped a bit. “Yeah.”

I stood and waved at Sondra as she cuddled the little girl. I hadn’t found out much, but it was a start.

Roxy was silent on the drive home. 

“You want to talk about it?” I asked.

“I was like her—Sherise. Alone, without a mom. But at least she has Sondra and isn’t going to a stranger.”

Roxy had been in and out of foster and group homes most of her life. I knew from the few details she’d dropped that her childhood had been rough.

“You have to find who did this, Rose. You have to get Janelle back home to her kids.”

I braked at a stoplight and glanced over at her. “I’ll do my best.”

“No, that’s not good enough. If she didn’t do this, you have to find out who did.”

I’d been thinking the same thing, but hearing it from Roxy felt overwhelming. I wasn’t an investigator, I was just a waitress who took classes on the side. “I promise I’ll try.”

She stared out the windshield. “Okay.”

It was after ten when I got back my apartment and changed into a pair of sweats. I’d just pulled my blanket and pillow from the closet when a knock sounded at the door. I glanced out the peephole at Axton. He held DVD in one hand and a pizza box in the other.

“Figured you were in need some sustenance after a round with your mom,” he said when I opened the door.

Ax was the greatest, always there when I needed him with pepperoni and bad sci-fi. I took his coat and hung it on the peg next to the door, my eyes drifting over his t-shirt that read Yoda Knows Best.

“So, how bad was it?” He set the pizza box on the stove and grabbed two plates from the cabinet by the sink.

“Bad enough. Dane called and said Janelle’s in deep shit. The evidence is stacked against her.”

He slipped two slices onto the plates and handed one to me, then licked the grease off his fingers. “That sucks royally. Are you going to help her?”

I plopped down on the futon while Axton stuck the disk in the machine. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” When he straightened, he gazed around my apartment. “Dude, your place is depressing.”

I shrugged. “Looks like it always does.”

“Exactly. Where’s your Christmas spirit? Where’s your tree? It’s just sad, man.”

“I have no Christmas spirit and it’s not sad, it’s normal. Maybe I’ll boycott Christmas this year. Why force it?”

He waved his plate around the room. “Because Christmas is the time to connect with the child in your soul.”

I cocked my head. “Are you high right now?”

“Make fun all you want, but Christmas rocks.”

I leaned back and crossed my legs. “Hey, want to do me a favor?”

“I live to do you favors.” He sprawled out next to me and ate half the slice of pizza in one bite.

“Asshat was throwing money around a strip club before he went to comasville. I want to know where that money came from. His real name is Sheik Johnson, by the way.”

“That’s one pimp ass name,” Ax said with a full mouth.

“Also, Chicken Licker’s real name is Crystal Waters. Maybe. Or that could be another stage name. Anyway, she works at The Bottom Dollar. Can you check her out, too? I need her address. Oh, and some guy named Freddy Libra runs the place.”

“Sweet,” he said with a full mouth. “Sounds like this project needs some real-time research.”

I laughed. “That’s my job. You do the computer mojo you do so well and I’ll question the strippers.”

“You’re harsh, man. Want me to look into the strip club while I’m at it?”

“That would be awesome, thank you.”

“I would prefer to do it with a lap dance, but…”

“You’re the best. What are we watching tonight?”


Assignment: Outer Space.
It’s Italian.”

When I walked into the kitchen the next morning, Ray glowered over his biscuit dough.

“I see Ma told you about staying open for lunch,” I said.

“Unh.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

He shrugged.

“Glad we had this conversation, Ray.”

I grabbed an apron and stepped through the swinging door. That delicious, sharp smell of coffee hit me and I poured myself a cup.

I turned and stopped cold when I saw a kid about nineteen or twenty, sitting at the counter, texting. He wore a blue hoodie, baggy jeans, and long brown bangs hid his eyes.

“Who’re you?” I asked.

He didn’t glance up from his phone.

Roxy, dressed in a short, blue sailor dress, stood with her hands on her hips and stared out the front window. “That’s the new busboy and dishwasher. Since we’re serving lunch now, Jorge got bumped up to assistant cook.”

The new kid didn’t acknowledge me. In fact, he hadn’t lifted his head or stopped moving his thumbs since I first spotted him.

“Who texts this early in the morning? And what are you watching?” I asked Roxy.

“Ma.”

I advanced toward the window. Although it was still dark outside, the restaurant lights illuminated Ma as she wrote on one of those A-frame chalkboards you see outside cafes. LUNCH SPECIAL in hot pink.

Roxy glanced over at me. “What do you think?”

I sighed. “This reminds me of the time she decided we should have cartoon character pancakes. Remember how backed up we got?”

“This will be much worse.”

Ma tucked her chalk into a bucket and dusted off her hands. Taking a few steps backward, she stared at the board and nodded. When she opened the front door, all of the cold December wind blew in with her.

“What do you think about my new sign, toots? Snazzy, huh?” She walked over to the counter. “And I got lunch menus printed up. They’re not laminated or anything yet, but we can start handing them out.”

I took a blue sheet and read it over. “We’re serving Pulled Puck?”

“What?” She grabbed the paper from me. “Those damn printers.” She wadded it up into a ball. “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. We’ll just have to tell the customers what we’re serving.” She gathered up her stack of menus and stomped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, this is way worse than cartoon pancakes,” I said.

By the time the early crowd started rolling in, I forgot all about the new menu. Ma fluttered from table to table, telling everyone to come back for lunch. The regulars got into lengthy discussions about the change.

New Kid was nowhere to be found, so Roxy and I bussed the tables ourselves. Finally at ten, things slowed down a bit. They’d pick up again once the church crowd descended, but in the meantime, Jorge placed an omelet on the counter and set a cinnamon roll in front of Roxy.

“Ma’s going nuts in there.” He waved his tattoo-covered arm toward the kitchen. “She made enough pork to serve two hundred people. We only seat forty-five. I don’t mind the extra hours though.”

“Me, too,” I said. I could always use the extra money. And now that I didn’t have a freaking car, I needed it more than ever. It still pissed me off someone stole it right across from the police station. That had a certain brass balls quality to it I didn’t appreciate. “By the way, congrats on the promotion.”

Jorge lifted a shoulder. “It’s not much different. That kid hid in the pantry and texted all morning.”

Ma hit the swinging door and the tangy smell of barbeque poured out of the kitchen. “Ma’s Diner is about to serve lunch for the first time ever, people. Get ready.”

My stomach growled and I gobbled up my omelet.

By eleven, people were still ordering breakfast, just like always, but Ma kept pushing the pork. She handed out free samples and even had a few takers. But by one, our usual closing time, we only had two customers left, and they were stragglers who decided to linger over coffee.

“Damn,” Ma said. “We’ve got to get the word out about lunch. I’m going to have to come up with another marketing plan.” She stalked back to the kitchen.

I texted Ax and told him to come by the diner. He showed up fifteen minutes later, his ubiquitous backpack balanced on one shoulder.

“You ready for the best pulled puck you’ve ever had?” I asked.

“Sounds good.”

I put in his order brought him a soda. “Any info on Asshat?” Since the diner was empty, I pulled out a chair and sat across from him.

Ax unwrapped his straw and stuck it in his glass.  “Divorced from Janelle. No visible means of income. No unemployment checks. And no money trail. Sorry. But I do have his address.” He handed me a Post-it note. “And Freddy Libra owns The Bottom Dollar. Pays his taxes on time, owns a three-bedroom home on the decent side of town and a vintage Mustang. Which is pretty awesome. Dude owns a strip club and a Mustang? He must live in poon city, man.”

I shuddered. “I’m getting a visual I don’t want. Did you find anything on Crystal?”

“She’s on my to do list. I’m going to have a hard time calling her Crystal, though. I’m used to Chicken Licker.”

“Thanks for helping out, Ax. Let me check on your order.” At the pass thru window, I scooped up a plate full of pork, beans, and a thick slice of cornbread covered in melting butter and slid it in front of him.

Ax took a bite and nodded. “This pulled puck rocks.”

I grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell Ma.”

I took care of the stragglers and bussed the tables once they left. Roxy cleaned the restrooms. So far, New Kid had been useless.

When Ax finished eating, I waved the check and handed him a sack of leftover donuts for the road.

“I’ll call you when I get more info,” he said and left.

By three, the diner was empty and had been for over an hour. Ma was in a snit.

“It’s those damn menus. If only I could have passed them out, we’d have had takers, I just know it.” She peered at Roxy through her trifocals. “While Rose and I finish clean up, you drive down the street. Go into Rudy’s and look at a menu.”

I rubbed her shoulder. “Ma, this is ridiculous. Rudy’s sucks. We’re Ma’s Diner. Nobody’s going to give Rudy the time of day.”

She glared at me. “You don’t know the first thing about being a businesswoman, toots. You’ve got to know your competition. Roxy, get me that menu.”

Roxy rolled her eyes and grabbed her coat. “I’m on it.”

BOOK: Last Diner Standing
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