Death of a Crabby Cook (16 page)

I stepped out of the School Bus and shuddered as a cold, damp bay wind blew across my face. I glanced around the food truck area and focused on Boris's truck. No sign of life. I checked Jake's place. The lights inside appeared to be on, but I didn't see Jake through the windows and wondered where he was.

As I walked toward the parking lot, I got the eerie feeling I was being watched, and I tried to shake it off as paranoid jitters. When I arrived at my car, I noticed a ticket on my windshield and snatched it off.

“Damn!” I said aloud. “I paid the parking fee!” I was about to curse the faceless parking attendant when I unfolded the white paper and saw the words scrawled inside in black marker.

“Mind your own business, or you might find a little rodent meat in your next potpie.”

I glanced around the parking lot for any sign of trouble, peeked in the backseat of my car just to make sure no one was hiding inside—including a rat—then quickly got in and locked the doors.

I shivered. Someone was on to me. Someone knew where I worked, which car I drove, and no doubt a lot more about me than I realized.

Was it Tripp? Was he watching me now? Did he mean to follow up on his threat and taint my aunt's food with a dead rat?

Or did he know about Dillon's pet rat?

I pressed the button to turn on the engine and headlights and backed out of the spot. My sweaty hands slipped on the steering wheel. As I pulled up to the parking lot exit, I thought about the other people on my suspects list. They all knew I was looking into the murders. If one of them was the killer, then he or she had good reason to try to stop me. The question was, if it wasn't Tripp, who was it? Or had I overlooked someone not on my list?

The car idled at the exit as I waited for a break in traffic to pull out. So much for a fast getaway. Good thing no one was chasing me at the moment.

Or was someone following me and I just didn't know it?

I tapped Aunt Abby's number on my cell phone. If the killer knew about me, then he surely knew about my connection to my aunt. After all, he'd just left a threatening note relating to a rat in Aunt Abby's food. I had a feeling she wasn't safe either.

“Hello?” my aunt said brightly.

“Aunt Abby? Are you all right?”

“Of course, dear. Why do you ask?”

“Someone left a nasty note on my car. I think it might have been the murderer, and he knows where I live, so to speak. I'm worried we both might be in danger.”

“Oh goodness, Darcy. What about Dillon?” I hadn't thought to worry about my cousin. I decided not to mention the reference to rodent meat, in case the note referred to Ratty. “Oh, I'm sure he's safe after using all of those disguises. But tell him about the note and make sure he keeps an eye on you, will you?”

“Dillon's not with me, Darcy,” my aunt said. I heard alarm in her usually cheery voice. “I'm already on my way home. I left him in the bus. It's locked, but now you've got me worried.”

Aunt Abby was never a fan of the hands-free cell phone law.

“Listen, I'll give him a call. Just take care of yourself. Go straight home and lock the doors. I'll be there soon.”

“All right,” Aunt Abby said, “but you'll call me if Dillon's in any kind of trouble, won't you?”

“Yes, of course. I'll talk to you soon.” I ended the call, then tapped Dillon's cell phone number. He answered on the fourth ring, just when I was about to panic.

“'S'up, Darce?” Dillon said. I could hear his laptop keyboard clicking in the background.

“Dillon, I'm worried about your mother. I found a threatening note waiting for me on my windshield when I got to my car. Whoever left it knows I've been digging into the murders. And I think he made a veiled threat involving your pet rat.”

The clicking stopped. “What? What did the note say exactly?” Dillon asked.

“Just that if I didn't stop snooping, there might be a little rodent meat coming our way. I told Aunt Abby to go directly home and lock the doors.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Goose bumps rose on my arms. “Dillon? Are you there?”

I heard some noise; then he answered, “Yeah, I'm on my way.”

“But, Dillon, the cops are after you! They're probably watching the house. And if they are, they're sure to spot you.”

“Don't worry. They won't see me. Gotta go. Later.”

Dillon hung up, leaving me holding a dead line.

I set down the phone. I had mixed feelings about Dillon going home. I was glad that he'd be there to protect his mother, but I didn't want him to get arrested.

I was just about to pull into the street when I heard a knock on the hood of my car.

I jumped a foot, accidently hitting the horn and managing to kill the engine.

A dark figure hovered outside my side window.

“Get out of here!” I screamed and fumbled for my phone. “I'm calling the police!”

The figure stepped back into my headlights, his hands raised in surrender. One hand held a small bag.

“Jake!”

“Just me. Sorry if I startled you.”

I lowered the window. “You didn't startle me—you scared the crap out of me! Who goes around parking lots knocking on people's hoods? No one! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He moved closer to my window and leaned in. “Why so jumpy? Something happen?”

How did he know?

“Nothing . . . I just . . .”

“Pull over. You don't look like you're in any condition to drive at the moment. Besides, I've got a surprise for you.”

“How did you know where I was?” I asked.

“Saw you leave the bus and head this way. I hoped I'd catch you before you drove off.”

I hesitated, then felt foolish that I was still worried this guy might be a murderer. He was just too cute to kill anybody.

I thought about Aunt Abby alone at her house and figured Dillon would be there soon. Restarting the car, I backed out of the exit and over to a nearby slot, then turned off the engine, deliberately this time. Pushing a button, I unlocked the doors. Jake let himself into the passenger seat and held up the bag.

“What's that?” I asked, hoping it was a cream puff and not a weapon of some kind. Of course, if anyone wanted to try to kill me, they didn't need to leave threatening notes. All they had to do was distract me with a cream puff and get it over with.

Jake opened the bag. In such close quarters, he smelled of chocolate. What had he been doing? Bathing in it?

Worked for me.

“Here. I'm trying another new recipe. See what you think.”

He lifted out a delicate mini cream puff concoction and held it in his open palm.

I eyed it suspiciously. How would I know if poison was one of the ingredients? “What is it?”

“A cream puff,” he said smartly.

“I
know
that. What
kind
?” I tried not to openly drool, but the heady aroma of dark chocolate practically made me swoon. I felt like Dorothy under the influence of a poppy field.

“S'mores,” he announced proudly.

“Seriously?” I said, recalling the flavor of my favorite Girl Scout camp dessert. “How do you make S'mores Dream Puffs?

“Simple. I added graham cracker crumbs to the shell batter, then filled it with a marshmallow cream mixture and covered it in melted Ghirardelli chocolate bars. I want to know what you think.”

It sounded so tempting I wanted to swallow it whole.
But that would be crass,
I thought. I accepted the culinary artwork from his large hand and took a bite, savoring the combination of sweet flavors as they melted in my mouth.

“Mmmmmm,”
was about all I could manage after that first bite. I finished the rest in a single bite, wishing he'd brought a dozen more. I could have easily downed
them without a thought about the billions of calories in each one.

“Wow,” I finally said. “Heaven.”

Jake grinned. “Thanks.” He pointed to the side of my cheek. “You've got a little . . .” He leaned in and used his finger to wipe off the bit of cream puff that had managed to escape my mouth. My breath caught. His dark eyes held my gaze. He leaned in closer and put his warm hand on my cool cheek.

And then he kissed me.

It was almost as good as the cream puff.

I pulled back, surprised at myself. I had just let a suspect kiss me! That was not a good thing for a person investigating a murder to do. What was wrong with me? I could claim I was under the influence of chocolate marshmallow and dark brown eyes. No jury of women would ever convict me. But this was not cool.

Jake must have recognized my reaction. “Sorry,” he said.

With that little smile on his face, he didn't look so sorry.

“Oh, no . . . I . . . uh,” I stammered. “I should be getting home to my aunt. I'm worried about her.”

Jake frowned. “Something happen?”

I sighed. Now that he'd kissed me—and I'd let him—I figured I might as well tell him about the note—and maybe cross him off my suspect list. I pulled the crumpled paper out of my purse, switched on the dome light, and showed it to him.

“Someone left this on your car?” he asked after reading it.

I nodded. “That's why I'm worried about Aunt Abby. Whoever wrote that probably knows I've been looking into the murders. And he somehow knows that Dillon has a pet rat. I have a feeling he's been following me.”

“Darcy, this is serious. You need to call the police.”

“You're right. I will. It's just that with Dillon hiding out in Aunt Abby's bus, I don't want to get him into more trouble, you know?”

“It sounds like Dillon can take care of himself. Right now you need to protect yourself and your aunt. And that means calling Detective Shelton, you hear?”

Jake sounded genuinely concerned, and it touched me. Almost as much as that kiss had.

“I will.”

“Now,” Jake ordered.

I sighed and dialed the detective's number. He answered on the first ring, and I explained about the note I'd found on my car. He asked me several questions—Did I see anyone around my car? Did I have an idea who left the note? Had something else happened he didn't know about? After fifteen minutes on the phone, I finished answering his questions and hung up.

“Happy?” I asked Jake.

He nodded. “What did Shelton say?”

“He told me to go home, lock the doors, and watch my back.”

“Good advice,” Jake said.

“And I'll do that, right after I check to make sure my aunt's okay.”

“How about I follow you?”

“No need. Really. Dillon will be there.”

Jake nodded. “All right, but call me when you get there. I want to know you're safe.”

“Okay,” I said.

He started to open the door, then turned back to me. “Listen, I've been doing a little digging myself, mostly to get my name off your suspect list.” He shot me a glance.

I felt myself blush. “Did you find out something?”

“I don't know if you've heard, but when I first opened for business here, I went out with Willow a couple of times. I just wanted to get that out in the open. She kept asking me to these clubs, but they weren't for me. Then she met this guy who worked for Boris a few months ago—someone named Ivan, I think his name was. Turns out he was an illegal.”

“You mean, an illegal alien?”

Jake nodded. “Willow said that Boris said he was going to help get Ivan legal status because he worked for him. But the deal fell through after Willow began seeing Ivan. It turned out Boris had a major crush on Willow and was jealous.”

“That's what Aunt Abby said.”

“She
is
pretty cute, if you overlook all her tats and piercings.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Just not my type,” he added, grinning.

“Do you think Willow might have killed Boris for getting what's-his-name sent back to wherever he came from? Or hired someone to do it for her?” I was thinking of Tripp.

“Don't know, but Willow told me she'd once been an exotic dancer and had been in trouble with the law for beating up a guy who tried to force himself on her.”

“She beat
him
up!?” I was stunned that my friendly coffee source had that kind of muscle in her. And that kind of background.

“Kicked his ass, is what she said. She said his eyes were solid red and his face looked like it had been run through a coffee grinder. She was kind of proud of that.”

“Wow. Did she go to jail?”

“Got probation. Called it self-defense. She said if she'd had more than pepper spray and her cell phone with her, she could have easily killed him.”

“She used her cell phone?”

“Smacked him with the corner of it.”

“Wow.” Who knew a cell phone could be used as a weapon?

“And pepper spray?”

“She said all the girls carried pepper spray.”

We were back to pepper again.

“Do you think she could have killed Boris?”

“I don't know, but she's got a temper—that's for sure.”

I thought for a moment, taking it all in. “Thanks for telling me.”

He reopened his door. “So, you'll call me, right?” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a business card with the name of his company and his cell phone number.

I took it and put it in my purse. “As soon as I get home.”

“All right. Night, Darcy.”

“Good night, Jake. And thanks for the cream puff.”

“Glad you liked it. Thanks for the dessert afterward.”

I felt myself blush again.

He got out of the car and stood watching me as I started up the engine and headed for the parking lot exit once again.

I was about to pull into the street when I noticed someone enter the back door of the Bones 'n' Brew restaurant across the street. Moments later, the figure came back out carrying two large bags of trash. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman in the dim light, but the person was strong enough to open the heavy Dumpster lid and heave over the two bags before slamming the lid shut. With a last glance around, he—or she—reentered the restaurant.

Hmm
. Was business getting back to normal at Bones 'n' Brew already?

I thought a moment, weighing my options. I was sure Dillon was at home by now, keeping Aunt Abby safe. In fact, Dillon was a lot better protection than I would have been. I let curiosity get the better of me. Who was tossing out garbage at Bones 'n' Brew?

I pulled into traffic, made a left turn at the first opportunity, then drove into the Bones 'n' Brew customer lot, making sure to park in a well-lighted section just in case I was still being followed. I hadn't come up with a connection between Oliver Jameson and Boris Obregar yet, nor had I talked to Oliver's sister since Boris's murder. If she was the one taking out the trash, this might be a good time to ask her a few more questions and see if I could figure out the link between the two dead chefs.