Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (4 page)

He snuggled closer. “Good. I’d miss your cooking.”

We fell into silence, Hardy’s breathing deep and even. I thought he’d fallen asleep when he piped up. “His description of the hit man could have been any man with dark eyes and hair.”

Heat started rolling between us and I flung back the covers, all the while considering William’s written vague description of the hit man-for-hire. “Who in Maple Gap is going to do anything but dream of knocking off Mayor
Taser
?”

“Eugene’s not so bad. His wife, now . . . her I can see raising a few eyebrows.”

A few eyebrows
was
putting it kindly. Betsy
Taser
knew how to rankle people, especially other women. I wondered how she got along with Flossie Monroe, Carl’s ex.
Wouldn’t
surprise me one bit if Betsy had been the one to encourage Flossie to divorce Carl so she could have a turn with the man. “You think she’s had it with Eugene?”

“Could be.”

From the sound of Hardy’s voice, I could tell he was almost out. “I’m not at all sure it’s a good idea to keep this from the chief.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Hardy’s lips
poofed
out on an exhale. I nudged him. “If anyone comes into the restaurant that looks like he could be the guy, be sure to say something.”

“I’ll come running. Need someone to protect me.”

I decided to slide in one more burning
question
. “What’d you call
Bryton
for?”

His words were a mumbled mess I couldn’t figure out. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out and I knew he was gone. I ran my hand down his cheek where the moonlight hugged his dark skin. I sorely hoped bringing William into our home didn’t put us all in danger.

Chapter Four

Hardy managed to mess up while taking two orders during the breakfast rush. Since breakfast was the easiest meal for me and Hardy to handle, I had told William not to come in until time to prepare for lunch.

“He’s allergic to orange juice,” I reminded Hardy as he returned with the OJ he’d slid in front of Shiny Portly, owner of Big Sky Grocery. “Throw it out and get the milk.”

“How do you know he wanted milk?”

I tapped my head.
“Got it all up here safe and sound.”

“Is that why you had to ask me where your shoes were this morning?”

I glared at him.

He saluted me with the orange juice, then threw back his head and gulped it down. A sleeve across his mouth served as a napkin. “No
use letting it go
to waste. He hadn’t even touched it.”

“If you’d do that to the dirty plates, I wouldn’t need a garbage disposal.”

He ran his hands down his sides and smirked. “Don’t want to lose my slim figure.”

As if he’d gained more than five pounds in all the years we’d been married.

The electric bell alerted us to another customer. Chief Chad Conrad sidled up to the bar area and perched on one of the high-backed stools. No suspended vinyl-covered stools for this restaurant. When Hardy and I redecorated, we’d done away with booths and put in tables and five bar stools to surround the curved counter.

“Good morning,
LaTisha
.
Hardy.
What are you two stirring up this morning?”

“Special of the day is grits, with grain waffles and fresh blueberries on top,” I slid a menu to him.
“Got pomegranate juice if you want something other than your usual.”

I turned over the coffee cup in front of the chief and poured some of the Lisa’s Winter Wonderland–flavored coffee my patrons loved so much, reminding me that I needed to order more from the coffee store I’d found online. Chief inhaled the brew and reached for the sugar.

“She working you hard, Hardy?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Hardy picked up a clean glass by the bottom and flicked his wrist, sending the glass into the air. It landed upright in the palm of his hand, ready to be filled with the milk Shiny was waiting on. I rolled my eyes.

“Neat trick,” Chief observed.

Hardy beamed. “Talent just oozes from my pores.”

“
It’s
blood
gonna
be oozing from your head if you don’t get that milk over to table three.”

Hardy put the glass of milk on top of his tray and paused, leaning close to the chief, his voice raised so I could hear every word.
“Spousal abuse, pure and simple.”

I snorted. “Spousal abuse of the pure and
simple,
is more like it.” I flicked my hand at table five where Dr.
Cryer
had taken a seat. “Get that to the table before I fire you.”

Hardy shuffled off, his smile fixed, gold tooth flashing.
Which reminded me he had an appointment with Dr.
Cryer
this afternoon.
Dentures.

“How many times you fired him so far?” Chief spooned sugar into his coffee and stirred.

“Too many to count.
He sure swims in the vinegar, doesn’t he?”

Chief made a strange sound in his throat and put his coffee cup down so fast it splashed. I handed him a paper napkin that he choked into for a full minute before a laugh popped out of his throat. “You’ve got a way with words,
LaTisha
. And I dare say Hardy’s not the only feisty one at your house.”

My house.
William. I wondered if Chief already knew about William moving in with us, or about the hit man. My guilty conscience was burning a hole in my head. Telling Chief would be betraying William, but Hardy was right, it sure felt wrong not telling him. I had a different method. “William told me he saw a new face in town yesterday.”

“Told you?”

He’s a sharp guy.
“Scribbled it to me in a note.
Whatever.”

Chief cracked open the menu, his eyes flicking back and forth over the selections.
“Old or young?”

“Younger.” A guess, but what else did I have to go on? William would have noticed gray hair. Wouldn’t he? I picked up a glass and pressed it against the ice dispenser, then filled it with Dr.
Cryer’s
favorite raspberry tea.

He snapped his menu shut. “I’m not in the mood for breakfast. I’ll take the Maple Gap.”

“That
be
on white, wheat, grain, or a wrap? Toasted or no?”

“Wheat.
Toasted.
Leave off the onions, but load me up with pepper relish.”

My special pepper relish had the whole town forgetting all about needing slimy mayonnaise and high-sodium ketchup. I’d started growing the peppers in Hardy’s greenhouse, then chopped and stirred around different types of peppers until I was satisfied with the flavor and consistency of the relish. When I introduced it to the folks of Maple Gap as a condiment for the Maple Gap club sandwich, I’d run clean out of relish that first day. So I began to can the stuff. Hardy grumbled the whole time about having to wear rubber gloves and pick out the pepper seeds. Now that I think on it, maybe I could sell the relish online and raise money for our school. That would certainly show Lester Riley a thing or two.

I scribbled Chief’s order on my pad of paper, ripped it off, and snapped it on the circular rack we used to hold orders, considering the problem of keeping up with the demand for the pepper relish and selling it for profit, watching as Hardy’s hand—all I could see from my angle—yanked the paper off the rack.

Hardy popped out of the kitchen and slipped two more orders onto the ring. “Almost forgot to put them up there.”

“Why didn’t you just put them on from back there? You had them with you.”

“Didn’t want to mess up the system.”

“You’re falling behind.”

Hardy stroked his jaw. “Just don’t have your way with the scraper
thingie
.”

“It’s called a spatula.”

“See, I don’t even know the names of things.”

This man.
I decided I’d fill those orders myself and was about to disappear through the swinging doors to the kitchen when Hardy snatched up two glasses at once, doing his little flip-trick. He was showing off. “Take that tea to Dr.
Cryer
while I work on these orders.” He nodded and filled one glass with OJ and the other with milk, I locked in on the cocky grin splitting his face.

“Chief Conrad,” his voice boomed, and that in
itself
let me know I was hot on his trail because Hardy’s not a loud sort . . . unless he’s up to no good.

I
lasered
down the length of him, radar on, and detected that I-know-something-you-don’t glint.

He got real close to the chief.
“Seems our longtime buddies have had a falling out.
I was asking Carl
Baereum
about the mayoral race, expecting him to take up for his good buddy Mayor
Taser
. Instead he got hot. Said he was done with the likes of Eugene
Taser
, that Maple Gap would be better off if Mayor
Taser
was a cold body in a wood coffin.”

Chapter Five

Hardy’s news made me perk up a mite too much. I felt Chief Conrad’s eyes hard on me.

“Something wrong,
LaTisha
?”

I immediately pulled some napkins from the dispenser and fanned myself. “Powerful hot in here.”
Was, too, probably more because my conscience was heating up.
“
You wanting
to know about hot flashes? They come on a body real fast-like and squeeze all the moisture out.”

Chief’s head swiveled to Hardy, looking a little lost at the swing in topic.

Hardy had that look on his face that questioned my sanity. “Only hot flash you’ve ever had was that time you testified in church about burning your
ni
—”

“You hush.”

Hardy raised his eyebrows at Chief Conrad, who did his best to cover a smile.

And this is the downside of small-town living. Everyone in Maple Gap had heard that testimony and remembered how I stuttered to cover my slip of the tongue. “I meant baby bottle nipples and you know it!”

Hardy slapped his leg and bent double. I felt the heat climbing up my neck, setting my face on fire all over again.

“Thought Pastor
Haudaire
was going to have a stroke,” Hardy grunted out the words.

Chief hid behind his cup of coffee; it looked more like he was trying to bury his face in the mug.

“What’s going on over there?” someone yelled from the dining room. Sounded like Dr.
Cryer’s
voice.

“Nothing to worry your head about,” I hollered back. Every eye in the place was on us now.

Hardy straightened long enough to catch a breath and wheeze out, “Remember
LaTisha’s
testimony at church?” He bent back double and kept right on guffawing like a hyena.

“Oh!” I heard Dr.
Cryer
let out his own cackle. Before I knew it, there was a chorus of laughter behind me. I wasn’t about to turn around. I decided, instead, to squelch the fire of Hardy’s fun and hope all the little fires would drop to a smolder.

“You have an appointment with Dr.
Cryer
in thirty minutes.”

He kept right on laughing.

“He’s
gonna
be pulling that last tooth out.”

His laughs faded to a strange cackling giggle.

“He told me his assistant would be out and for me to wear rubber gloves and bring my best pliers so I’d have me a good grip.”

Hardy choked out one last laugh, then went ramrod straight. His cocoa eyes rolled to me. “You told him to put me out, didn’t you?”

I raised my brows. “If you don’t stop laughing at me, he won’t need to put you out, I’ll do it myself. For free. Then I’ll yank that tooth.”

I could see the bulge of Hardy’s tongue as it ran over his gold front tooth. “Can I use this tooth in the dentures?”