Last Diner Standing (6 page)

Chapter 6

After work, Roxy and I decided to check out Asshat’s house. Maybe we could find some info about that money he’d been flashing around. 

We drove south to a low-rent neighborhood on a dead end street. Asshat’s tiny house sat toward the back edge of the property and was surrounded by a chain link fence and overgrown hedges. Brown, patchy bald spots and six cars in various states of disrepair covered the large yard. Some were missing doors and hoods. Three old Pontiacs, two Hondas, and one Toyota sat like my nephew, Scotty’s, little toy cars. Except his had wheels.

“What’s with the cars?” I asked.

Roxy popped her gum. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

We approached the house and I sidestepped a broken lamp. Roxy jumped over a large wall clock with a silhouette of a naked girl—like the kind you see on mud flaps. And we came to a stop in front of an upside-down coffee table that sat cockeyed near the front porch.

“I think this was Janelle’s handiwork,” I said.

“She’s got some serious upper body strength to flip that coffee table,” Roxy said.

As we made our way to the back of the house, I withdrew four latex gloves from my pocket. I’d lifted them from the diner and figured Ma wouldn’t mind. 

Roxy looked at me with respect. “You came prepared for mischief. I’m impressed.”

She pulled an Allen wrench and a bent paperclip out of her purse. The fact that she had these items didn’t even faze me. A few weeks ago I’d been wary of Roxy’s mad breaking and entering skills. But I’d gotten used to it, just like I had the blue hair and her wacky fashion sense.

“Let’s do it,” she said with a grin. She loved this shit, lived for it. After jimmying the lock for a few seconds, the door swung open. “How long did that take?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t timing you.”

“You’d never make it as a criminal, Rose. Timing is everything.”

I walked into the house. “Oh, God.” I held a hand over my face. The kitchen reeked like old garbage. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink and dried, hardened food was cooked onto the avocado green stovetop.

Roxy wrinkled her nose. “I call dibs on the living room.”

As she tromped off, I searched the filthy kitchen. The fridge contained moldy crap and beer. Nothing but a sack of ice in the freezer. The rusty metal cabinets yielded a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter.

“Nothing in the kitchen.” I walked into the living room and took in the broken plasma screen and the leopard print curtains—half torn, half hanging. Janelle must have been beyond pissed to do all this damage.

“Nothing in here, either,” Roxy said.

My gaze drifted down to the blood-soaked tan rug where Asshat bled out. Looking at it made me queasy, so I quickly averted my eyes. “I’ll hit the bathroom.”

Roxy followed me down the hall. “Yep, I’ll take the bedroom.”

I flipped on the light and almost turned it back off. The bathroom was even more disgusting than the kitchen. Tiny and covered with once-white tile, it held a chipped pedestal sink, a tub full of mildew, and even dirtier toilet.

“Asshat has a real thing for leopard print,” Roxy yelled. “Eww, even his underwear.”

“Don’t want to know,” I called back. I popped open the medicine cabinet. Body spray, toiletries, and aspirin. I glanced at the toilet and with one finger, dropped the lid.

I took a deep breath and lifted the lid off the toilet tank. “Rox, I found something.”

She stood in the bathroom doorway. “Me, too. Lots of receipts for jewelry—a watch, a gold chain, a man’s diamond ring.”

I shrugged out of my coat and handed it to her, then shoved up the sleeve of my baby blue t-shirt, and reached into the water, pulling out a Ziploc bag from the bottom of the tank. I tossed it in the sink and stripped the glove from my hand.

Roxy stepped further into the room. “What’s in it?”

“Let’s find out.” I pried the wet bag apart and removed two sheets of paper with precise handwriting and several four by six photos. As I flipped through the pics, my heart thumped in my chest. “Shit.”

She peeked over my shoulder. “Who is that?”

“Sullivan.”

“Oh, my God. I figured he was hot, but he’s
haught
.” She grabbed a picture out of my hand.

The photos—there were ten—were taken at different locales. I scanned the handwritten pages. “Look at this, it lists his home address. Monday at home—four a.m. to one p.m. Lunch at Pantorelli’s—one-twelve p.m. to two-eighteen p.m. Met with two unidentified men. Left by the back door.” On and on it went, giving detailed information of Sullivan’s movements for the last two weeks.

I glanced up at Roxy. “Was Asshat following Sullivan? Why?”

“Maybe somebody hired him. Maybe that’s where the money came from.”

I took another glance around the filthy bathroom. “Let’s get out of here.”

I dropped Roxy off at Ma’s so she could pick up her car, then I went home and changed. I stuck some ramen noodles in the microwave and stood at the counter of my kitchenette, looking over the photos once more. What kind of trouble was Sullivan in? Who would be watching him, recording his every move? My first inclination was to call him and demand some answers, but I knew he’d never give me any. Same old, same old. I needed more info before I talked to him.

My phone rang and I tucked the pictures in my purse before I answered.

“Hey, Jacks. What’s up?”

“Just wanted you to know, Mom’s on a bit of a tear. She was kind of upset that you sneaked out of the party last night.” My sister, mistress of the understatement.

“What else is new?”

“Listen, she’s going to call and be all ‘grrr,’ but I don’t want the two of you getting into another kerfuffle.” 

“Jacks, are you eighty?”

“What?”

“You just used the phrase on a tear and the word kerfuffle. No one under Ma’s age uses that word. Ever.” I grabbed a spoon from the drawer.

“Just don’t get into it with her. Please? It’s almost Christmas and I want everyone to be on their best behavior. Think of Scotty.”

Right, Christmas. And I did adore Scotty. The little man stole my heart the second he was born. I sighed. “Fine.”

“So what’s going on with you?” she asked. “We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Well, Janelle’s in jail and my car was stolen.”

“Is Janelle your friend from school? What’s she doing in jail? And why didn’t you tell me about your car? You know the same thing happened to my maid, Maria. She came out of the grocery store and her car was gone.”

“Yes, I know Janelle from school, but she’s innocent. And what kind of car did Maria drive?”

“I don’t know. An old, silver car.”

“That’s not a lot of help, Jacks. I’ve got to go. I’m cooking.” I opened the microwave before it could ding and gave my noodles a stir.

“Call me later? And be nice to Mom. It’s Christmas.”

The next morning at the diner, Ma was in fine form. Giddy, almost.

“Look at these new menus,” Ma said and handed me a laminated bright orange sheet of paper. The color made my eyes water.

“Spaghetti, chicken fried steak, grilled cheese? Did you steal this menu directly from Rudy?” I asked.

“All’s fair in love and business. He doesn’t have a copyright on Texas toast.”

Roxy walked out of the kitchen and tied an apron around her waist. “Who doesn’t have a copyright?”

I handed one of the sheets to Roxy. “She stole Rudy’s menu and is using it as her own.”

“Ma, why the bright orange?” she asked.

“I wanted everybody to see it. It’s part of my two-pronged marketing plan.”

Again with the marketing plan? “Ma, what about your book club and bunko and casino nights? Isn’t all this cooking and marketing going to cut into that?”

“I’ve been in this business a long time, toots. And nobody is going to horn in on my territory. First it’ll be Rudy. He thinks I’m easy pickings because I’m old. Then some fly-by-night place will try the same thing. It’s best to end this now. I serve the breakfast in this town.” She shoved a finger at her bony chest. “Me and the chain restaurants. Nobody else.” She marched back to the kitchen.

Roxy and I exchanged a glance, then got busy prepping the diner. New Kid shuffled around with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, so like, when do we get a break?” he asked.

“We don’t,” I said. “If it’s busy, we work.”

“And if there’s a lull, we work,” Roxy said.

“Isn’t that against my rights or something?”

Roxy stepped into his personal zone. “Don’t piss me off, New Kid. Go find something to do.”

He sighed and shuffled away.

“Where the hell did Ma dig him up?” I asked.

“No idea.”

We flipped the open sign at six, unlocked the door, and let the customers in.

I really needed to see Janelle today, but jail visiting hours were from eight to one. I almost hated to ask Ma for time off, since she was in war mode, but it was important.

“Ma?” I asked tentatively after I filled an order for the table in back. “I was wondering if I could run out and see Janelle this morning?”

“Yeah, but hurry back. I’ve got a special job for you.”

That sounded ominous. “What kind of special job?”

She had a wily smile on her face. “Oh, you’ll see, toots. You’ll see.”

I left at nine and drove to the police station. The weather was cold, but clear. White clouds streaked across a bright blue sky and the brisk wind tossed brown leaves across the street.

I was frisked and walked through a metal detector before being led to the same small room as before. When Janelle shuffled in, she looked worse than ever. She nibbled at her dry, chapped lips, two of her fingernails had popped off, and that orange jumpsuit made her appear washed out. When the officer unlocked her cuffs, she rotated her wrists and sat across from me.

“Have you seen the kids?”

“I saw Sherise Friday night. She misses you, but Sondra’s taking good care of them.”

“What about bail?” she asked. “Did you talk to Tariq?”

“He doesn’t have it. Neither does Sondra.”

Janelle dropped her head into her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red. “I need to get out of here.” She flattened her hands on the table. “I need Dane to get me out of here. He says the prosecution has a watertight case. I keep telling him I didn’t do it. Rose, I thought he was supposed to help me.”

“I’m going to help you.” I whipped out my notebook and pen. “Now tell me everything you can about Asshat, who his friends are. I’ll question everyone I can. By the way, what do you know about Chicken Licker? Do you know where she lives?”

Janelle raised a brow. “I may have driven by a time or two. And there’s your suspect. He was cheating on her, too.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what he does. He cheats. He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants if somebody paid him.”

“Do you know who he was cheating with?”

“No, but ask his brother, Little Donnell. He may know. And his friend, Marcus Walker. But watch out for Marcus. He’s shady.” She gave me addresses for everyone, but without her phone, which the police had in custody, she couldn’t remember phone numbers.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out,” I said. “What about his sister, Roshanda?”

Janelle told me her address. “But you may have an easier time catching her at work. She’s a vet tech for Huntingford Animal Clinic. Works from six to six.”

As I left the building, I scanned the street and made sure Axton’s car was right where I left it.

“Hey,” I heard someone shout.

It was the nice cop from the other day. He trotted toward me.

“Are you here about your car?” he asked. He pointed to his badge. “Officer Goedecker. Remember me?”

“Of course I remember. No, Officer Thomas thinks it’s gone for good. Chopped into little bits by now.”

He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. “That’s probably true.”

I shrugged. “It happens, right?”

“Despite our best efforts, it does happen. Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway.” I left him in front of the station and drove to the diner.

When I got to work, Ma waved me into the back office that housed cleaning supplies, an unused desk, and not much else. “How’s your friend, toots?”

“She’s not doing well, Ma. She can’t make bail and the evidence against her is airtight.”

“That’s too bad, hon. But all will be well. The truth always comes out in the wash.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. The longer Janelle sat in jail, the more worried I became. And the police weren’t interested in the truth. They had a perfect suspect in Janelle. She was Asshat’s unhappy ex and a hothead. Case closed.

“Now,” Ma clapped her hands. “I’ve got a mission for you.”

I blinked and focused on the task at hand.

“It’s an important one.” She opened the bottom drawer of the old faux wood desk and pulled out a stack of flyers. In the middle of the page was a drawing of a yellow chicken and large font pronounced
—Ma’s Diner is now open for lunch. Chicken specials every day. Buy one lunch special get one free
.

“This is it, our road into lunch. We offer chicken specials, rotisserie chicken, chicken and dumplings, and chicken soup, in addition to the rest of the menu. We’ll be known as chicken central.”

I didn’t think this idea was any more of a winner winner chicken dinner than the pulled puck. “Why can’t New Kid do this?”

“He doesn’t have a car and I’m not letting him take Cha Cha.” Ma insisted on calling her maroon eighty-seven Buick Le Sabre Cha Cha. Why? That was still a puzzler.   

“Go to Rudy’s parking lot and put them on every windshield. Hand them out to everyone you see, too.”

“Don’t you need me here? You know how crowded it gets after eleven.”

She hustled me out of the office. “We’ll manage. Go on and don’t come back until the flyers are gone.”

With a sigh, I strode back outside and drove up the road. Rudy’s Roundup Restaurant lived in a strip mall off Apple Tree Boulevard with one cut-rate Dollarz store, a Chinese restaurant, an auto parts dealer, a nail salon, and a tropical fish paradise. A larger-than-life, fiberglass black and white cow stood on the roof, gazing out over the parking lot. 

Before I got started, I ran into Dollarz and grabbed a pair of hot pink knit gloves. Thin as they were, they wouldn’t do much good to ward off the biting chill, but they were better than nothing.

I started at one end of the parking lot and made my way down the rows as fast as I could. I figured the sooner I got rid of the flyers, the sooner I could get back to the diner where it was warm. But I couldn’t grab the flyers with my gloved hand, so I had to go barehanded until my fingers were painfully stiff, then rip the glove off the other hand and start all over again.

When I finally got to the cars near the storefronts, a man from the Chinese restaurant wearing a chef’s coat and hat pointed at me. He grabbed a flyer off one of the cars and started yelling at me in a language I didn’t understand.