A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery (8 page)

“So, just for the record, you’re claiming that you didn’t see him at all the day of the murder; is that right?” Moose asked.  My grandfather frowned as he asked the question, as though he didn’t believe her answer at all.

“I didn’t!” she insisted. “And anyone who said I did is lying.”

It was a pretty emphatic answer, but we weren’t done yet.  “If anyone could vouch for where you were yesterday from five to five thirty, it would help us all out a lot,” I said calmly, trying to ease the stress in our line of questioning.

“Victoria, are you asking me for an alibi?”  She clearly didn’t like that at all.

“Don’t feel like we’re picking on you in particular.  We’re asking everyone Howard Lance served papers to,” I said.  Technically that wasn’t true yet, but it was going to be by the time we finished.

“Since when did you two start solving crimes?” she asked.

“Since the murder happened in the back of our diner,” Moose said bluntly.  His voice left no room for doubt about where we stood, and why we felt as though we had the right to be asking these questions.  “So, what’s it going to be?  Are you going to help us, or not?”

“I’ll help you,” she said.  “But what I’ve got to say won’t do you much good.  I’m afraid I was getting ready for the Hampton girl’s ninth birthday party,” she said.

“So, they can verify that you were there?” I asked, relieved at how easy this was.

“No,” she said with a frown.  “I was working on the cupcakes in back, and I’m sorry to say that I was all by myself.  They wanted the most hideous shade of green for the icing, and I had the devil’s own time getting it just right.  That doesn’t mean that I killed that man, though, no matter how much he deserved it!”

“That’s a little strong of a reaction for a little bit of extortion, Francie,” Moose said.

“You know what I mean,” she said, the anger clear in her voice now.

It was time to see if we could get out of there without damaging our relationship with her forever.  “Thanks for cooperating with us, Francie.  We got what we came for, and we’re sorry to trouble you,” I said as I tugged on my grandfather’s arm.  “Come on, Moose.”

“What?  I’m not in any hurry to leave just yet.”  He was digging in his heels, and I had to move him along while I still could.

“We’re finished, though,” I said, trying to get him to go.

“You might be, but I want to try one of those apple pie cupcakes,” he said as he pointed at the display case.

“Do you think Martha would approve of you sampling treats here?” I asked him.  The entire family knew that my grandmother kept him on a pretty tight leash as far as his diet was concerned, but Moose didn’t tend to let that stop him, especially if she wasn’t around to slap his hand.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said as he smiled at Francie and handed her a five.  “We’ll take two.”

As she started to get them, I said, “Make it one, instead.  We’ll split it.”

“I’m a big boy, young lady.  I can eat a whole cupcake by myself.”

“Indulge me,” I said.

“Fine.  One cupcake, but split it in half.”  He hesitated, and then grinned.  “Forget that.  I want three quarters of it for myself.”

Francie looked at me, and I reluctantly nodded my approval.

We took her offerings, and I had a bite of mine.  It was amazing how she’d gotten the essence of an apple pie into a cupcake, from the crumb topping laced in the icing to the apple chunks in the body of the cupcake itself.  My section was gone much too quickly, and I could see where Moose’s original idea had merit, but I decided that I’d better get him out of there before I let him change my mind.  By the time we left, we were on pretty good terms with Francie again, and I could see the logic behind my grandfather’s purchase.

“I see what you just did in there,” I said with a smile once we were out on the sidewalk again.

“I tried to order two cupcakes and got a partial instead,” he said grumpily.  “There was nothing clever about that.”

“You put Francie at ease after you riled her up.”

He shrugged.  “Where do you think we got the ‘charming’ part of the diner’s name?  What’s your gut tell you about Francie?  Could she have killed Howard Lance?”

“I don’t know.  She seems kind of timid, doesn’t she?  Do you honestly think that she had the nerve to creep into our freezer, kill Howard Lance, and sneak back out again?  I’d think that it would take someone with a lot steadier nerve than she has to do it.”

“Don’t let her demeanor fool you,” Moose said.  “You back somebody up into a corner, and you never know how they’ll behave.  I’d like to know if anyone in town saw her around Howard Lance yesterday at all, since there’s no way to shake her alibi that she was working in back alone.  If we could get someone to say that they saw them together at any point, that would break her story wide open.”

“So then, we file her away for now and move onto our next suspects,” I said.  “Should it be Cynthia, Hank, or Bob?”

“Well, Bob Chastain is just around the corner.  Why don’t I tackle him next?”

The implication was clear in his voice that he wanted to go alone, but I wasn’t going to stand for that.  “Moose, we’re a team, remember?”

“I know that, but Bob might talk a little more openly with me if it’s just the two of us.”  The defiance was clear in the way he was standing, but it wasn’t going to do him one bit of good.

“That’s just too bad,” I said.  “Moose, if you try to do this alone, I’m going straight to the sheriff.”

“You’d rat me out to the cops, my own flesh and blood?”

His guilt trip wasn’t going to work on me.  “You know I would.  I’m just as tough as you are, old man.”

“Who are you calling old?” Moose said with a grin now that I’d stood up to him.  As he ran a hand through his silver hair, he said, “I’m just now getting aged to perfection.”

“I’m going to let you have that one.  Come on.  Let’s go see Bob.”

As we drove toward the auto shop, Moose grinned over at me.  “Where’d you get all that spunk, young lady?”

“I inherited it from my grandfather,” I said proudly.

“You bet you did.”  He parked the truck out front of the shop, and the two of us walked in together.

“Moose, what’s the big idea?” Bob asked as he came out of his office.

“What do you mean?” my grandfather asked.  Had Francie already talked to him about our line of questioning?  We were counting on hitting them all by surprise, and I might have underestimated the power of our local grapevine.

“How am I going to get any customers if that wreck of yours is parked out front?” he asked with a broad grin.

Moose said, “Are you kidding?  You should pay me to park in front of your shop.”

“How do you see it that way?” Bob asked.  He’d recently lost a ton of weight by easing off the fast food and walking during his lunch breaks, and the man looked ten years younger these days.

“Think of it this way.  If it looks as though you can keep my truck running, you can do anything,” Moose said proudly.

“At least let me paint it,” Bob said.

“What, and ruin its charm?  No thank you.”

“I give up,” Bob said as he threw his hands up in the air.  “If you’re not here about the truck, what can I do for you?”

“We’re trying to find out who killed that weasel Victoria found in our freezer,” he said bluntly.  I was going to have to have another talk with my grandfather about who was really leading this investigation.

“I heard about that,” Bob said as he nodded.  “So, you’re trying to earn your junior crime buster Boy Scout merit badge, is that it?”

“Do you blame us?” I asked.

“No, I guess I don’t.  Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“But you had as much reason as we did to want to stop the man, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Victoria, I don’t need this particular piece of land to work on cars.  I could set up somewhere else in a week if I had to.  Folks come for my service, not my surroundings.”

“Come on, don’t kid a kidder,” Moose said.  As he swept his arm around the place, he said, “Even relocating this stuff doesn’t come cheap, and besides, I’ve never known you to back down from a fight in your life.”

“I could say the same about you,” Bob said as he stared at Moose.

“What, do you think I did it?” my grandfather asked.

“No more than I did,” he said.

“Where were you when he was killed?” Moose asked.

“I didn’t know they had a time of death yet.  Doesn’t being stuffed in a freezer kind of throw off those forensics people?”

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“Hey, I watch television.  You can’t turn the channel without hitting one of those crime shows these days.”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t fiction,” Moose said.

“I know that, but my point’s still a fair one.”

It was time to fess up to what had happened.  “We left the back door unlocked by accident, and Greg and I were eating an early dinner when it had to have happened.  Our closest guess is between five and five thirty.”

“Wow, that’s pretty unfortunate,” Bob said with a frown.

“So, what’s your alibi?” Moose asked again.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Bob said with an expression that told me he wasn’t kidding.

“I just told you.  I was out front eating with Greg,” I said.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he answered, never taking his eyes off of Moose.

“I was in my woodworking shop,” Moose said.

“Alone?” Bob asked.

“Sure, I was by myself, but Martha must have heard me using my table saw.”

“So, you just have your wife to vouch for you,” Bob said.  “I wish I had even that much.  It figures.  The one time I slip out of the shop to have a little fun, it bites me in the rear.”

“Where were you?” I asked.

“I slipped over to Hickory to see an early movie,” he admitted.  “They’re cheaper if you go before six.”

“Can anyone vouch for that?” Moose asked.

“I wish.  I got halfway there and turned around.  I had burritos from Carmelita’s on the way, and something I ate didn’t agree with me, so I turned around and came back home.”

“Then your receipt should prove that you weren’t in town,” I said.

“It might if I’d bought them fresh, but these had been leftover in the fridge for a few days, so I didn’t buy them fresh yesterday.  I’m sad to say that no one saw me between five and five thirty, coming or going.”

I was about to ask him another question when one of his mechanics came in.  “Bob, your car’s transmission is shot.  Why don’t you just shoot that thing and put it out of its misery?”  He waved to Moose, and nodded in my direction.

“It’s got a few good miles left on it,” Bob said.  “Just fix it.”

“If you’re having trouble with your transportation,” Moose said, “I might sell you my truck.  It’s good to go right now, just as it is.”

“Thanks, but you’ll understand if I pass.”

His mechanic said, “One more thing.  Mrs. Beatty is back by my station.  She swears that we changed the seats of her car the last time she was here, and they haven’t been right since.  You might want to have a chat with her.”

Bob shook his head, and then turned to us.  “Sorry, but duty calls.  Good luck in your witch-hunt.”

“We’re not on some kind of rampage.  We’re just trying to find the truth,” I said.

“Call it whatever you want,” Bob said, and then he followed his mechanic back out to the work area.

“What do you think about that?” I asked as soon as we were back in Moose’s truck.

“It sounds like a pretty elaborate story, if it’s all just a lie,” he said.

“Or it could actually be the truth,” I answered.

“Maybe, but I’m not buying Bob’s story that this didn’t upset him, no matter how hard he’s trying to downplay it.  If he went to a movie in Hickory after finding out that he might be losing his garage, I’m a baboon’s first cousin.”

“He never made it though, remember?”

“So he says,” Moose said.

“How long have you known the man?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. 

“Longer than I’ve known you,” he admitted with a smile.

“And you really think that he’s capable of doing this?”

“I sure do, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he thinks the same thing of me.  We need to keep digging into this, Victoria.  There’s going to be a lot of bad blood before this thing is over.”

“I agree,” I said as my cell phone rang.  I glanced at the caller ID and saw that Greg was calling me.  “Drive us to Cynthia’s or Hank’s.  I need to talk to my husband in the meantime.”

As I answered the call, my grandfather said, “You know that I hate those things.”

“I know,” I said as I grinned at him and answered my phone.  “Hey there, Greg.  Did you miss me already?”

“Always,” my husband said, “but that’s not why I’m calling.  The sheriff’s looking for you two.  He wants you both to stop whatever you’re doing and meet him at the diner.”