Authors: Jessica Beck
“Give me a second and I’ll find
out,” Moose said.
“I need to make a few
telephone calls.
Maybe I can find
out.”
My grandfather moved to a far
booth as he pulled out his cell phone.
While he was gone, I took the
time to wipe down the counter again.
It
didn’t really need it, but it was something to do, a nervous tic of mine that
helped pass the time.
“I got it,” Moose said with a
grin as he grabbed the pen and wrote down the name Marcus Jackson.
After it, he wrote Jealousy again.
“He’s a personal trainer at the same gym
where Sandra works.”
“I fully realize that the
meanings are different, but you used the same word to describe two completely
different situations.”
“I can fix that,” Moose said as
he added the word Romantic next to Marcus’s name.
“Is that better?”
“Much.
Who else do we have?”
We both thought about it, and
then Moose said, “I have a hunch this list isn’t going to be our final
one.
I’m pretty sure we’ll add a few more
names as we keep digging.”
“And hopefully strike a few out
along the way as well,” I said.
“I think
we’re both tapped out for tonight.
What
do you think?”
“Let me record our list on a
sheet of paper, and then we can go,” Moose said as he got out an order pad and
started jotting the names down.
I took out my cell phone and
snapped a quick picture of the board.
“What did you just do?” Moose
asked me.
“You take your notes your way,
and I’ll do mine my way,” I said.
“Tell
me when you’re finished and I’ll erase the board.”
“Let’s just stow it away in back
until we need it again,” Moose said.
“You’re not planning on running any new specials this week, are you?”
“With Greg, I never know.
If he gets an itch to make something new,
I’ve given him my blessing to do it.”
“Well, until you need it, let’s
keep recording our thoughts here.”
Moose
picked up the board and walked into the kitchen with it.
I called out, “I’m dumping the
coffee pot.
Do you want the last bit?”
“No, thanks.
I probably shouldn’t drink what I have left
in my cup.
It’s going to be a long
night, all in all.”
“Because of the caffeine?” I
asked.
“That’s the least of it.
I know that I may have sounded cavalier when
I talked to the sheriff about Benny’s murder, but there’s a lot about it that
bothers me.”
“Could it be based on the fact
that you and Martha are the sheriff’s key suspects?” I asked as I rinsed out
the cups as well and put them in the nearest dish tub.
“That’s just part of it.”
Moose looked at me earnestly as he asked,
“Victoria, what if Benny was killed as a direct result of something I said or
did?”
The suggestion caught me
completely off guard.
“Moose, how could
that even be possible?” I asked.
“Think about it.
What if someone wanted to kill Benny, but
they were afraid that they would be too obvious a suspect in the murder
investigation?
I might have given them a
golden invitation to kill Benny by threatening the man like that in public
tonight.
If you look at it from that
perspective, it might all be my fault.”
I could see that the very idea of
that was troubling my grandfather greatly.
I kissed his cheek gently, and then I said, “Moose, if someone wanted to
get rid of Benny, they didn’t need your outburst as cover for their crime.
It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe not, but I still don’t
like it,” Moose said.
“Then help me find Benny’s killer
so we can at least bring the murderer to justice.”
“I can do that,” Moose said, his
mood lightening slightly.
“Now, let’s
get out of here.
You’ve got an early
morning tomorrow, and I’m getting up a bit before my usual time as well.”
After Moose dropped me off at the
house, the porch light flickered once, twice, and then three times.
Greg was waiting by the door for me, and I
welcomed his embrace as I walked in.
Marrying that man had been one of
the best decisions I’d ever made in my life, and while I didn’t tell Greg that
an awful lot, he knew how I felt.
Chapter 3
“Hey, Mom,” I said sleepily the
next morning a little before six when I got to the diner.
Just as Moose had predicted for himself, I’d
had trouble getting to sleep the night before, though I doubted that the coffee
had played too much of a role in it.
Though my mother had already been there for quite some time getting
prepared for that morning’s session in the kitchen, she looked wide awake,
something I envied greatly at the moment.
“Good morning.
Victoria, it appears that your father and I
missed quite a bit of excitement at the theater last night, didn’t we?”
My mother worked the grill every morning
until Greg came in at eleven to take over, and I loved the closeness it gave
us.
“Do you regret not going?” I
asked as I tried to will myself awake.
I
absently reached up and petted the wooden moose I had stationed above the cash
register when I’d first taken the diner over.
My grandfather had whittled him for me when I’d been a little girl, and
my moose had always been my favorite childhood toy.
“No, with the hours I work, I’m
fairly certain that I would have fallen asleep before the curtain went up.
I don’t know how you do it, Victoria.”
“Last night I probably shouldn’t
have,” I said.
Her brow furrowed a bit as she
asked, “How bad is it?
Is it true that
Moose and Martha are the only suspects the sheriff has in Benny’s murder?”
“Where did you hear that?” I
asked as I started flipping on the main lights of the diner.
“Word gets around fast in Jasper
Fork; I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“Well, it’s not true.
Moose and I managed to come up with four
other suspects last night on the spur of the moment.”
“Then that must mean that you
both are going to investigate this murder, aren’t you?”
“We really don’t have much
choice,” I said.
“I know you’re not a
fan of our investigations, but we wouldn’t do it if we felt there was any other
option.”
“I wasn’t scolding you,
Victoria,” my mom said gently.
“This
time, I don’t see that you have much choice in the matter.
Just be careful, okay?”
“I promise,” I said as I gave my
mother a kiss on the cheek.
She smiled at the gesture, and
then rubbed her hands together.
“In the
meantime, we have a diner to run.
If
you’ll excuse me, I need to take the biscuits out of the oven, or we won’t have
anything to serve our sausage gravy on.”
“I’ll take the first order myself
when they’re ready,” I said.
“Young lady, did you skip
breakfast again?” she asked, the mothering instincts coming out in her voice.
“Why should I have cold cereal at
home when I have the best breakfast short-order cook in the state working at my
diner?” I asked with a smile.
“Maybe because if you eat my food
all of the time, you’ll gain twenty pounds in a month,” she said.
“Besides, cereal is good for you.”
“You’re seriously not going to
cut me off from your sausage and gravy biscuits, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said with
the hint of a smile.
“I’ll have your
order ready for you in two shakes.
There’s the morning paper, if you haven’t seen it already,” she said as
she pointed to the slim folded newspaper.
I opened it and scanned the front
page, which sported an obituary regaling Benny Booth’s theatrical exploits over
the years, as well as his success in business.
The newspaper hadn’t used a headshot from his portfolio for the picture,
though.
Instead, the photo, front and
center in the paper, showed Benny holding his Jasper award.
The trophy sported all sorts of fancy
filigrees engraved on the cup and delicate wings sculpted into the
handles.
Silver in color, if not in
actual content, it looked a little ostentatious for the caliber of actors it
was probably awarded to.
Benny was
happily embracing it in the shot as though it were vital to his existence.
That was enough of that.
I pushed the paper aside, and then I flipped
the CLOSED sign to OPEN as I prepared the cash register for the day.
By the time I set everything up just the way
I liked it, Mom came out of the kitchen with a large plate in her hands.
The aroma was unbelievable, and my mouth
began to water instantly.
She’d managed
to bury her luscious golden brown biscuits under an avalanche of sausage gravy,
but I didn’t mind.
I could see a few
spots where the butter she’d used on the biscuits had melted and was now part
of the gravy’s texture.
I took a seat at
the bar, and after cutting off a healthy bite of biscuit that was laden in
gravy, I ate it slowly, enjoying all of the tastes that combined to create a
perfect bite.
I always said that if I
ever lapsed into a coma, they should wave a plate of my mother’s sausage gravy
biscuits under my nose.
If I didn’t
revive from that, everyone would know that the case would be pretty much
hopeless.
“Well, how is it?” Mom asked as
she stood by the door that led into the kitchen.
“It’s just about the best thing I
ever ate in my life,” I said, and then to prove it, I took another bite.
Wow, it just got better and better.
“You
really
need to teach Greg how to do this.”
“Your husband’s gravy is just
fine,” Mom said, defending her fellow short order cook.
“His still can’t touch yours, as
good as it might be, and he knows it just as well as I do,” I said.
Mom blushed slightly, but she was
clearly pleased with the compliment.
I
was about to take yet another bite when I heard our front door open.
It took real effort on my part to turn away
from my breakfast and face our first customer of the day.
I was surprised to see Garret Wilkes, a tall,
heavyset man with a shock of white hair.
What was he doing here?
He rarely
came into our little diner, and never this early.
I had to wonder if the reason he was stopping
in at The Charming Moose now had more to do with what had happened last night
than with our food, since Garret was the producer
and
director of
The Last Man
Left
.
For his day job, he ran Wilkes
Jewelry, but I knew that theater was where his passion lived.
“Is Moose around, by any chance?”
Garret asked me as I approached him with a menu.
“No, he hasn’t been in
this
early since he ran the place
himself.
By the way, I’m sorry about the
play last night.”
“Unfortunately, these things
happen.
We’re adding another show in two
nights and making tonight the play’s debut, so we’re getting the word out to
the community that last night’s tickets will be good for either performance on
a first come, first serve basis.”
“Why skip a night in the middle
of your performances?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, the theater was
already booked for a magic show before we planned any of this,” he said with a
frown.
“Would you mind if I put a sign
up in your window about it?”
Normally I tried to discourage
that kind of thing, since it had a tendency to escalate quickly, and before I
knew it, I wouldn’t be able to see out, but this was different.
“How about if we put it up here?” I suggested
on the posting board near my wooden moose.
“It’s near the register, so folks will see it as they pay their bills.”
“Yes, but if we put it in the
window, they don’t even have to eat here to get the news.”
I laughed.
“Garret, if they don’t eat here, I don’t
really care that much about them in the first place.
I’m offering you a prime spot, just this
once.
Take it or leave it.”