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Authors: Jessica Beck

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BOOK: 2 A Deadly Beef
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Before
I knew it, to my amazement, my plate was empty.

When I
looked up, I saw that Moose was smiling at me.

"What’s
so funny?" I asked him as I took a sip of tea.

"I
just appreciate watching a woman enjoy a meal like that, that’s
all.  You never were a delicate flower, were you, Victoria?"

"No,
but it’s still nice of you to point it out," I said as I pushed my
plate away.  "That was amazing, and as soon as I can stand up,
I’m going to go give the cook a big kiss."

"You
won’t have to," Moose said.  "Here he comes."

Greg
came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron as he did. 
"How was it?"

"Magnificent,"
I said with a happy sigh.

Moose
added his own compliments, and Greg smiled contentedly.  It was the
closest he ever got to a standing ovation, but if he minded, he never said so.

"I’m
glad you two got some food in you.  Moose, how about doing me a
favor?"

"Greg,
after that meal, I’ll do anything you ask."

"Man
the grill for me for ten minutes.  I’d like to grab a bite to eat,
and if we can manage it, I’d like the company of my wife while I
dine."

"But
Martha’s already worked one of my shifts," I protested. 
"I can’t ask her to keep working when I’m here."

"You’re
not asking me anything," Martha said with a grin.  "I’m
volunteering."  She turned to Moose and asked, "What do you
say?  Are you up for it?  It will be fun working together here again,
just like old times."

"I’d
be delighted," he said, and he got up, clearing our plates as he did.

"What
would you like to eat?" Moose asked my husband.

"Surprise
me," Greg said with a smile.  "I trust you."

"That’s
a dangerous thing to say, but I’ll honor it," Moose said.

After
they were gone, Greg took a sip of the fresh sweet tea that Martha had
delivered, and then he pointed to my grandparents.  "Is that going
to be the two of us in thirty or forty years?"

"I
certainly hope so," I said.  "I can’t imagine a better
life than working side by side with you, can you?"

"Oh,
I don’t know," he said with a smile.  "If we happen to
win the lottery, I think I could walk away from this place without looking back
once."

I
shook my head and laughed.  "Greg, you’d go crazy within the
week if you didn’t have anything to do, and you know it.  I’m
sorry, but you’ve got my addiction, too.  We were both born to work."

"That’s
not a bad thing, is it?" he asked.

"No,
as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way to live." 

Greg
leaned over and looked back toward the kitchen.  "I wonder what
Moose is going to make me?"

"I
don’t know, but I’m certain that it will be good.  He just
loves to impress you with his cooking."

Greg
shook his head.  "The man’s forgotten more skills than
I’ve ever acquired at that grill.  Just about everything he makes is
better than mine."

"I
love you both, but husband dearest, you’ve lost your mind. 
You’re the best cook this place has ever seen, and Mom and Moose both
know it."

"Let’s
just say that we all have our strengths and leave it at that," he said,
but I noticed the grin on his face as he said it.  "How’s the
investigation going?  It’s a real shame about Ron."

"You
should have seen him lying there helpless in the hospital," I said as I
frowned.  "It was tough to take, and I couldn’t help feeling
bad for the man."

"Farming
is a dangerous profession," Greg said.  "It’s not all
that big a surprise that he was hurt at work, is it?"

"If
it really was an accident," I said softly, not realizing that my husband
had even heard me.

"What
do you mean by that?" Greg asked just as softly.  "Is there
any doubt in your mind that it wasn’t just an unfortunate set of
circumstances?"

"Well,
there’s apparently no doubt in the sheriff’s mind, but I’m
not so sure, myself."

"Victoria, you’ve got to have something concrete you’re going on that makes you
think that," Greg said.

"Not
really.  I admit that it could have been intentional or an accident, but
it doesn’t do us any good to think that it was just happenstance that Ron
was standing directly beneath that toolbox when it fell.  The thing is,
though, that I don’t know why someone would intentionally try to hurt
him."

Greg
frowned.  "You’re not saying that you don’t have any
suspicions at all, are you?  That’s not like you, Victoria."

"Truthfully,
the only thing I can come up with is that Ron must have seen something that
wasn’t meant for his eyes, but I have no idea what it might have
been."

"Don’t
worry.  Give it a little time, and I’m sure that you’ll figure
it out," Greg said, and then I saw his eyes light up.  Moose came
out of the kitchen with the plate himself, not even letting Martha deliver it.

"What
have we got here?" Greg asked as he rubbed his hands together and looked
at the approaching plate.

Moose
presented it as though it were on fine china instead of one of our ordinary old
plates that we’d had forever.  I glanced at it and all I saw was a
cheeseburger and some fries.  It was pretty common fare, and I was about
to chide my grandfather about it when my husband said with delight, "The
Great Mooseburger.  Excellent."

"That’s
not made with real moose, is it?" an attractive young woman asked from
her seat nearby, clearly appalled by the idea.  She’d slipped in
while I’d been talking to Greg, and I hadn’t even noticed her.

"Never,"
Moose said as he turned to her.  Lowering his own voice, he said,
"Do me a favor, though, and please keep your voice down.  We
don’t want him to hear anything like that.  It would upset him
something awful."

Moose
pointed over her shoulder to my hand-carved moose sitting happily on a shelf
near the register.  My grandfather had crafted him especially for me when
I’d been younger, and since I’d taken over the diner, he’d
become our unofficial mascot, and we all loved interacting with him. 
Folks were either charmed by his presence, or they thought we were all
completely mad, but it didn’t matter to us either way.

She
grinned.  "I understand completely.  I have a pair of stuffed
cows who think they’re real, and a moose of my own, as a matter of fact,
though he’s not carved.  He’s actually stuffed as well."

"Our
moose gets stuffed, too, when he eats too much," Moose said with a grin. 
"As a matter of fact, that’s my namesake up there.  I’m
Moose," he added as he struck out his hand.

"I’m
glad to meet you, Moose.  My name is Emily, and anyone with a name like
Moose is automatically a friend of mine."

"What
do you call your bovine friends?" Moose asked.

"Well,
it might seem obvious to most of the world, but one is named Cow, and the other
is called Spots.  The three of them have been with me since I was a little
girl, and they occupy a place of honor in my shop as well.  The reason I stopped
in was that I couldn’t resist your name.  My moose can be rather
charming himself, though he’s usually a bit on the quiet side.  To
be honest with you, he usually has trouble getting a word in edgewise with Cow
and Spots as his best friends."

Clearly
Emily was our kind of people.  I turned around and introduced myself, and
Martha brought her order to her in a bag. 

Emily
said, "I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I have to get back to April Springs.  You know what?  You should come visit us sometime.  We have
the greatest donut shop in the world, and I’m not the only one who thinks
so."

"I
may just have to do that.  Come back soon," Moose said, and she
promised to do just that after she paid and left.

Moose
looked after her and said, "I like that young woman."

"Why
wouldn’t you?" Martha asked with a smile.  "She’s
clearly as crazy as you are, and that’s not something I ever say
lightly."

Greg
was noticeably quiet during the extended conversation, and when I glanced back
in his direction, I noticed that his burger was practically gone. 
"Moose, I love the cheese sandwiched between the patties, but what spices
do you use in that?  I can pick out a few, but there are at least two that
still manage to elude me."

"Tell
you what I’ll do, Greg.  I’ll leave the secret to you in my
will," my grandfather said with a grin.

"I’ll
hold you to that, but do me a favor, would you?"

"What’s
that?"

"Make
sure I don’t get to see it anytime soon," Greg said with a smile of
his own.

"I’ll
do my best," Moose said.

Martha
said with a grin as she swatted her husband with a dish cloth,
"That’s enough chatting for now, there’s work to be
done.  Get back in the kitchen, Moose, and stop flirting with all of the
young women that come in here."

"I’m
never going to promise to do that.  Why else would I have ever agreed to
take over the grill?" he asked as he hugged her.

"You
are incorrigible," she said, shaking her head, but I could see the
twinkle in her eyes as she said it.

"I’d
dispute it, but why bother?  We all know that it’s true."

After
Greg’s plate was clear and I cleaned the table, we relieved my
grandparents and took over our proper stations.

As
Greg took over the grill from Moose, my grandfather turned to me and asked,
"What’s next on our list, or should I say who?"

"I’m
at a loss," I admitted.  "I was hoping that you’d have
an idea or two."

"I
have a few feelers out, but I haven’t heard from any of them yet,"
Moose admitted.  "I suppose I could go on home with Martha, and you
could stay here and work the dinner shift alongside your husband and
Jenny."

"If
you don’t mind, I think that sounds wonderful," I said. 
"It’s amazing how much I’ve missed this place in the short
time we’ve been working on Wally’s murder."

"I
know exactly what you mean.  It gets in your blood," Moose said. 
He kissed my cheek, shook Greg’s hand, and then left, holding hands with
my grandmother as she turned her responsibilities over to Jenny.

I
kissed Greg, and when he raised one eyebrow, I asked, "Do you remember
what we were talking about earlier?  That’s exactly what I want for
us."

He
just smiled, but it was the perfect response, and I was glad yet again that
I’d found him, or more importantly, that we’d found each other.

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

"Aren’t
you closed up yet?" Moose asked impatiently as he unexpectedly came into
the diner at just a minute before seven, our usual time to lock the front
doors.

"I
was just on my way," I said.  "What’s the rush?  If
I remember correctly, you never used to be all that concerned with watching the
clock.  Besides, I thought you were heading home to be with Martha? 
What happened to your big plans?"

"It
turns out that we’ve got somewhere to go tonight, after all," Moose
said.  "Do you remember when I said I was going to ask a few friends
to dig up some information on Wally Bain?"

"Sure. 
Did one of them actually come through?"

"You
bet they did.  How long will it take you to close the place up?"

"I
need ten minutes, and that’s if everything goes right."

"Has
that happened yet since you took over?" Moose asked.

"No,
but I haven’t given up hope yet.  It’s bound to sooner or
later."

Greg
came out of the kitchen.  "What’s all the hubbub, Bub?"

Moose
said, "I need your wife."

"Well,
no matter what your reasons might be, you should know that I need her
more."

"Just
this second?" Moose asked.

"Well,
I might be able to
loan
her to you, just as long as you bring her back
where you found her, and in pretty much the same shape she was in when she
left," Greg answered with a grin.

"When
you two comedians are finished talking about me as though I were a lawn mower,
you can find me at the register, closing out our day."

"I
can do that myself," Greg volunteered.  "Your grandfather
sounds like whatever he has on tap is urgent.  Go on.  I’ll be
fine."

Greg
had closed out the register a few times before, and it had always been an
absolute nightmare straightening the mess out the next day.  As much as my
husband was a wizard in the kitchen, he was a disaster when it came to anything
even approaching the diner’s finances.  "Thanks for the offer,
but I can handle it.  It won’t take long."

"Not
as long as it will take you tomorrow cleaning up after me, anyway,
right?" he asked with a grin.

I just
smiled, and started running the reports on our cash register.  While it
was calculating what we should have in our till, I was totaling up the actual
cash and checks to see if the numbers matched.  Usually it was fairly
close, within pennies, but there were occasions when it was off by more, and I
had to painstakingly go through everything until I figured out the
discrepancy.  I’d once been off by twenty dollars, and I was wearing
myself to a frazzle when I pulled out the cash drawer and saw a bill caught
underneath.

There
were no real problems tonight, though, despite Martha having run the register
so much during the day.  My grandmother had a tendency lately to round off
her all of numbers, and most likely the only way things had balanced now was
that she must have equally under and overcharged our customers throughout the
day. 

I slid
the deposit into its bag and handed it to Greg.  "Here you go. 
Do you mind dropping this off on your way home?"

"I’d
be glad to.  I’ll see you there later.  Be safe, Victoria."

"I
promise," I said.

Moose
asked Greg, "What about me?"

"I
figured you could take care of yourself," Greg said as he patted my
grandfather’s cheek, "but you should be careful, too."

BOOK: 2 A Deadly Beef
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