A Baked Ham (15 page)

“No, that’s something I wouldn’t
dream of ever doing.
 
Now, we both need
to hang up and get some sleep.
 
Your
grandmother and I will be at the diner tomorrow by eleven, and you and I can
get busy figuring out who murdered Benny Booth.
 
I don’t know why, but I thought it would be easier than it’s turning out
to be.”

“Why would you think that?
 
The man seemed to collect enemies like some
folks collect stamps or coins.”

“I don’t know.
 
I just thought that one of our candidates
would be more obvious than we’ve found them to be.”

“Who knows?
 
Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” I
said.

“Maybe so.
 
I’d really like to uncover who did it before
they escalate beyond threatening notes.”

“I agree,” I said.

I had no trouble falling asleep
after that.
 
I’d done all that I could,
at least for tonight.
 

Let tomorrow’s troubles stay
right where they were.

For now, I needed my sleep.

 
“Is there something wrong with your eggs?” I
asked Martin Race the next the morning as he had breakfast at the diner.
 
Martin always had three eggs, over medium,
bacon that was barely cooked, and toast that was dry enough to use as
sandpaper.
 
It was something that had
been his regular meal for the past six years, and he didn’t even have to order
it anymore.
 
All it took was a wave, a
smile, and the single word, ‘Usual,’ and we were set.

Apparently not today, though.

He moved the eggs around on his
plate, and it was pretty clear that he hadn’t taken a single bite.
 
“I’m really sorry, but these just won’t do.”

“I can’t see anything wrong with
them, but if you’d like fresh ones, I’ll get Mom to make them for you.
 
They’ll be ready in a jiff,” I said as I
whisked the plate away.

“It won’t help,” he said
sullenly.

“What will, then?” I asked.

“I’m just sick of eggs, that’s
all,” Martin said with a sigh.
 
“Victoria, I’ll be happy to pay for this, but I just can’t choke down a
single bite of it today.”

It would take more than that to
throw me off balance.
 
“Well, we have
lots of other choices.
 
Would you like to
see a menu?”

“I left my reading glasses at
home.
 
Would you mind telling me
yourself?”

The place wasn’t crowded, so I
indulged him.
 
“Let’s see.
 
We’ve got French toast, pancakes, waffles,
breakfast burritos, and oatmeal.
 
Do any
of those choices grab you?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“I’m not ready to give up
yet.
 
If you’d like a hamburger or a
grilled cheese sandwich and some soup, I’m sure Mom could rustle something up
for you in the kitchen.”

“Nope, none of that sounds good,
either.”
 
His frown vanished as he asked,
“How about pie?”

“We’ve got plenty of that.
 
There’s apple, peach, pecan, and chocolate on
the menu today.”

“I’ll have apple,” he said.

“One slice coming up,” I replied.

“No, you misunderstood me.
 
I want the whole pie, and I’ll eat it right
here.”

“Would you like some ice cream
with it?” I asked, having a hard time believing that anyone could eat an entire
pie for breakfast.

“No, I’ll eat it plain.
 
Oh, and bring me a tall glass of milk, too.”

“I’m on it,” I said.

I brought the plate of eggs into
the kitchen and scraped it into the trash.
 
Of course Mom noticed.
 
“Was there
something wrong with Martin’s breakfast?”

“No.
 
He just suddenly had his fill of eggs.”

Mom rubbed her hands
together.
 
“I can make him anything he’d
like.”

“You don’t have to,” I said with
a smile.
 
“All he wants is apple pie.”

“Pie?
 
For breakfast?”

“What can I say?
 
He’s a man.
 
Greg’s done it before, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Dad and Moose
haven’t been tempted before themselves.”

“What is it with men and pie?”
she asked as she got one out of the case and started to cut it.

“Hang on.
 
I said that he wanted a pie, not a slice.”

“He’s going to eat the entire
thing?” she asked in wonder.

“I’m not sure if he’s going to
make it, but that’s his intention.”

“Good enough,” Mom said as she
handed me the whole pie.

I delivered it, and as I slid the
apple pie in front of him, I asked Martin, “Would you like me to cut you a
piece of it to start?”

“Thanks, but I’ve always wanted
to dig into an entire pie all by myself.”

“Here’s a fork, then.
 
Bon appetite.”

Martin looked at the pie with
great affection before he stuck his fork into it, and I marveled as he started
his assault with only a fork and a hungry expression on his face.

I was still watching him with
wonder ten minutes later when the front door opened.
 
I was hoping for another customer, but this
was even better.

One of our suspects was coming
into the diner, and if I played it right, it might just save Moose and me a
trip later.

Marcus Jackson approached the
register where I stood.
 
“We need to
talk.”

“I thought that was what we were
doing,” I said.

“It’s about Benny and Sandra,” he
said curtly.

“By all means, then.
 
Is there something you want to tell me about
them?”

He looked around the diner, and
though our crowd was sparse at the moment, I knew that could change any
second.
 

“Could we chat over there?”

“As long as no one needs me, I’m
all yours,” I said.
 
As we walked to a
nearby table away from everyone else, I asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

“Caffeine is poison to your
body,” he said.

“Maybe to yours, but that’s all I
run on most days,” I said.
 
I had planned
to get us both cups, but after that, I figured that I could skip a coffee break
just this once.
 
“So, what about Benny
and Sandra?”

“I knew what was going on between
them,” Marcus said.
 
“It wasn’t like it
was unexpected, you know?
 
I’ve learned
to live with it.”

“Has Sandra been unfaithful to
you before?” I asked.
 
It was hard to
believe that this overblown physique of a man wouldn’t have a problem with his
girlfriend cheating on him.

“Every play she’s ever been in,”
Marcus said glumly.
 
“I didn’t like it,
but I can’t say that she didn’t warn me when we first started going out.
 
She said it was the only way she could get
into character, and that if I couldn’t understand that about her, then we
didn’t belong together.”

“That must be brutal for you,” I
said, suddenly feeling a little sympathy for Marcus.
 
“Is that why you pitched such a fit at the
theater during rehearsal?”
 
I couldn’t
imagine anyone putting up with such nonsense, but from the pain I saw in his
eyes, I realized that the man might not have had much choice in the matter, at
least not in his mind.

“I can live with it most of the
time, but all of a sudden, it hit me hard,” he said.
 
“But I got over it.
 
I didn’t really have much choice, not if I
want to stay with Sandra.”

“How many plays has she been in
since you’ve been together?”

“Three,” Marcus said glumly.
 
“I’ll admit that Benny was the worst for me,
but I wouldn’t kill him for what he did.
 
When it came down to it, I couldn’t even blame the poor sap.
 
There aren’t many men who could resist Sandra
if she threw herself at them.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” I
said.
 
“I know that I couldn’t.”

“It all boils down to the fact
that I’d rather have a part of her affection than none of it.
 
I guess it’s some kind of addiction.”

“That’s the only way that I can
even begin to understand it,” I said.
 
“Marcus, I don’t really know you at all, but don’t you deserve better
than that?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he said.
 
“I didn’t mean to get into all of this with
you.
 
I just wanted you and your
grandfather to know the truth.
 
Sandra
and I are both innocent.”

“But you can’t really know that,
can you?” I asked him.

“I know it in my heart.
 
Can I prove it?
 
No.
 
But it’s true just the same.”
 

“Were you
really
in her dressing room the entire time when Benny was killed?”
I asked him.

“I wasn’t lying to you when I
told you that.
 
Every word I said to you
the last time that we talked was true.
 
I
didn’t kill that man, and neither did Sandra.”

“You didn’t happen to leave me a
note last night, did you?” I asked as I watched his eyes.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re
talking about,” he said.
 
I’d watched his
face, and unless he was a better actor than his girlfriend, he was most likely
telling me the truth.
 
Then again, I had
no way to judge just how good an actor he might be.

Marcus stood, and I marveled
again at how strong the man looked.
 
I
doubted that he’d need a trophy to kill Benny if he put his mind to it.
 

I stood as well.
 
“Thanks for coming by.”

“Does that mean that you’ll leave
Sandra alone?
 
She’d be embarrassed to
know that I told you all that I did this morning.”

Wow.
 
Sleeping with her costars didn’t embarrass
her, but other folks finding out about her indiscretions did?
 
“I’ll do what I can, but I can’t make any
promises,” I said.

Marcus’s face clouded up, and I
could feel his presence even stronger.
 
“I wouldn’t like it if you keep bothering her, Victoria.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do
anything about that.
 
We have to go where
our investigation leads us, and right now, Sandra stays on our list of
suspects.”

“I don’t understand it,” Marcus
said as he scowled.
 
“Why did I waste my
time coming here, if you’re not going to do what I ask?”

“At least you got it off your chest.”

He got really close, and then
Marcus said softly, “Don’t make me mad, Victoria.
 
You won’t like it when I’m angry, I promise
you that.”

I felt chills race up and down my
spine.
 
This was a real threat, one so
intense that it shook me.
 

This wasn’t a cowardly note left
pinned to my door jamb.
 

This was a direct confrontation.

“What’s going on here?” I heard
Moose ask as he walked over to us.
 
He’d
just come from

the kitchen, but I hadn’t even
seen him come into the diner.

“We were just chatting,” I said,
trying to ignore Marcus’s threat.

“That’s not what it looked like
to me,” Moose said as he got in the big man’s face.
 
“Is there a problem here?”

“No problem, Gramps,” he said as
he tried to shove Moose aside.
 
Marcus was
clearly surprised when my grandfather held his ground.
 
Moose might not have been as muscle-bound as
Marcus was, but he was solid, and all those years of standing behind the grill
had given him the ability to plant himself like a tree if he didn’t want to be
moved.

Moose didn’t answer; he just
stood there staring right back at Marcus.

“Whatever,” the personal trainer
said as he sidestepped Moose and walked out of the diner without another word.

“What was that about?” Moose
asked as soon as Marcus was gone.

I looked around and saw that we
were attracting an audience.
 
Even Martin
was watching us closely, despite doing his best to demolish that apple pie
singlehandedly.