There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) (18 page)

“I thought I saw your car go by as we were wrapping things up,” he said, heaping his plate with a mound of spaghetti. “Is there some place she has her eye on west of town?”

Dang it!
When I got back to town I had driven right by the middle school where they practiced. “More like northwest. Rainshadow Ridge.”

“That resort?” Gram wrinkled her nose. “Kind of hoity toity, isn’t it?”

“It has very pretty grounds. If Mom wants a sunset ceremony, that’s the place to have one.”

Steve twirled pasta on his fork. “Did you drive back on Highway 104?”

Avoiding his gaze, I stuffed my face with spaghetti and nodded.

“Kind of the long way home, don’t you think?” he said.

I shrugged and chewed.

“Honey, that’s at least ten miles out of the way.” My grandmother stabbed a leafy bite of salad. “You should know better than that, and that two lane road between here and Clatska is awful at night. No wonder you were so late getting back.”

Not helping, Gram.

Steve put down his fork. “Something in Clatska you wanted to see?”

“Gosh, you act like it’s a crime to show my mother another way to get home.”

“It is if you decided to do some trespassing like your last caper with her.”

I glared at him. “I thought we had left that very minor incident behind us.” Fortunately, the neighbor who had called the cops on us a few weeks back had a crush on Marietta, so she was able to charm her way out of trouble. I knew better than to think that any amount of charm could rescue me from the volcano rumbling in the chair next to me.

“And I thought you had stopped with the Nancy Drew act and were going to wait for the lab results like everyone else in your office.”

I wanted to tell him that waiting wouldn’t make it safe for my mother and Mr. Ferris to visit that wedding chapel, but I knew I’d be wasting my breath. “I resent that.”

Steve pushed away from the table. “And I resent the fact that you think that little badge of yours gives you the right to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

“Children,” Gram said. “Let’s calm down and finish our meal.”

“Sorry, Eleanor. Don’t think I can do that.” Without a backward glance he headed for the door.

I leapt to my feet. “Seriously, you’re just going to leave?”

Steve didn’t answer, so I followed him outside. “I don’t know what you’re so mad about. I’m the one with the
little badge
who got insulted.”

He wheeled around. “Listen, it doesn’t take much to provoke someone into action.”

“Obviously.”

“I’m not talking about me. I see people do crazy things all the time and after very little provocation.”

“I didn’t do anything to—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Fine!” Obstinate man!

Crossing the street with me on his heels, Steve glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m done talking about this.”

“Me, too. I’m just going to get some of my things.”

“Char.” He stopped, all the sharp edges erased from his tone. “You don’t have to do that.”

My eyes stinging, I pushed past him so he wouldn’t see me cry. “Yeah, I do.”

After three hours of tossing and turning on the lumpy hide-a-bed in my grandfather’s study, I called an end to my grudge match with the
Crippler
.

“I give up,” I said to the fat tabby peering down at me from the window sill.

Trying to work the kinks out of my back, I peeked through the curtains, looking for signs of life across the street, while Myron hopped down to claim my pillow.

Of course, no lights were on. Steve was probably sleeping like a baby with his bed all to himself.

Goody for him.

In no mood to continue my late night relationship counseling session with Gram, I threw myself together and headed downtown for some edible therapy and free bad coffee.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Duke announced as the cafe’s kitchen door banged shut behind me.

Sitting at her butcher block table, Aunt Alice frowned at the wall clock mounted above a vintage Coca Cola sign. “Land’s sake, girl, it’s bad enough we have to be here at four in the morning. What gives?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I headed for the coffee station and the industrial strength java jolt that my sluggish synapses desperately needed. “So you might as well put me to work.”

She had a stainless steel bowl and her chocolate chip cookie recipe waiting for me on the table when I got back. “How about three dozen?”

“Fine.” The foul mood I was in, I could buzz through the first dozen myself.

Duke stood by the fryer keeping watch on his first batch of doughnuts for the morning, but his gaze kept shifting my way.

“What?” I demanded as I pulled a pound of butter from the refrigerator behind me.

“You don’t look so good. Are you sure you feel okay?”

“I’m fine.” I reached for the bag of flour in the center of the table. “I just didn’t put much makeup on.” I had also pulled my hair up into a top knot. Not my best look, but the hair dryer would have made noise and that wasn’t an option since Gram was a light sleeper.

Alice leaned closer, inspecting me through her wire-rimmed trifocals. “And everything’s okay at home?”

“Everything’s peachy.”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered. “Looks it.”

“I’m okay. I just don’t feel like being chatty.”

With a knowing smile, she nodded. “Your mother’s here. Say no more.”

Having a mother renowned for creating family drama had its upside. Mainly because everyone related to me was sick of hearing about it.

Three hours, two cookies, and five cups of coffee later, I was stocking the bakery shelves with all the cookies, scones, and muffins I’d baked when the silver bell over the door jingled for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

Port Merritt was awake and hungry, and so it appeared was the detective of its police force.

“Good morning,” Steve said, his gaze zeroed in on mine as he approached.

“Morning.” I shifted my attention to the pumpkin walnut muffins on my tray.

“How’re you doing?”

“Great.”

“She’s in a bad mood,” Duke announced with enough volume for everyone in the cafe to hear.

And he wasn’t helping to improve it.

As Steve took a seat at the counter and Lucille went to take his order, a jingle signaled the arrival of another customer.

I looked up to see Jeremy McCutcheon striding toward the bakery counter.

A sardonic smirk flashed across his lips. “Things didn’t work out at the courthouse for you?”

Nice. “I like to help my family out when I can.” The fact that I was the one who had needed the help this morning was beside the point.

“We have that in common then.”

Yeah, we were just two sweet peas in a pod. “And what may I help you with?”

“A dozen doughnuts, two of each of those,” he said, pointing at the top shelf in the glass case between us.

I filled a bakery box with his selection and then reached for an apple fritter because his dad always wanted at least one with his orders. “One? Two?”

“What?” He looked up from the cell phone in his hand.

“Fritter?”

His gaze hardened. “If I’d wanted one I would have told you.”

Excuse me
.

After ringing up his order, he handed me a ten-dollar bill. With four cents coming to him as change, I reached into the register.

“Keep it.” His eyes danced with amusement as he pocketed his thick wallet. “A little tip for you.”

Was I wearing a sign or something?
Insults gladly accepted here.

I dropped the pennies into the tip jar by the register. “Have a nice day.”
Asshole.

“What was his deal?” Lucille asked, squeaking over in her orthopedic shoes.

“He was just being a jerk.”

“Really? He’s usually pretty nice.”

Then he had wanted to put me in my place for flashing my
little badge
at him and disrupting his father’s sale. “Not with me.”

I glanced at Steve. Then again, I was the one wearing the
kick me
sign.

He crooked a finger at me.

It was not a good time to motion to me with any finger.

Avoiding his gaze, I grabbed a coffee carafe to refill his cup.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “But thanks.”

I thought of Phyllis and what she had said about still wanting to do nice things for Marty long after it was over between them.

I didn’t want that to become us, so I dispensed with the niceties. “What?”

“Are you going to be home later?”

“I’m not planning on any capers if that’s what you’re asking.”

He blew out a breath. “It’s not.”

“Hey,” Duke said, passing me a bowl of oatmeal. “Hand this to your boyfriend.”

He had said it in a teasing tone, but I was in no mood to hear it.

I set the bowl in front of Steve. “Enjoy.”

With nothing more I wanted to say to him in front of an audience, I headed for the kitchen.

“Wait. Char!” he called after me.

I shook my head. “Not now.”

Duke’s gaze followed me as I tossed my dirty apron into a hamper. “Had enough fun, huh?”

“Yep.” Given how my day had started, I had a bad feeling that the fun was just beginning.

∗ ∗ ∗

“You’re early again?” Patsy remarked when I walked by her desk. “Going for a record?”

“You betcha.” Apparently, the most butt kicks in a twenty-four hour period.

I headed for the breakroom and had just started to brew a fresh pot of coffee when I heard the door click shut. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Patsy approach.

Now what?
“The coffee won’t be ready for a few minutes.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Turning to face her, I gritted my teeth.

Scowling, she scanned me from head to foot. “You don’t…are you feeling okay?”

I know. I looked like crap today and didn’t feel much better. “I’m fine.”

“Then we’re still on for lunch today?”

Today of all days I was supposed to find out if her boyfriend was two-timing her? “We’re on,” I said with all the false cheer I could muster.

She heaved a shaky breath. “Good. I told Mitch to meet me at Duke’s at twelve-thirty, so plan on walking by our table a couple minutes later and I’ll ask you to join us.”

“Duke’s?” We had to do this at Duke’s?

“I thought familiar surroundings could be helpful.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “We’re going to want privacy, so try to get a table in the back.”

“Okay. Now, do you understand the plan?”

“Get him to talk about online dating and find out if he’s seeing someone else.”

She nodded solemnly. “Exactly. Just be subtle about it, and not too many questions about the two of us.”

Good grief. “Maybe you should just give me a list of the dos and don’ts.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll have that to you in a few minutes.” She spun on her heel and headed for the door.

Me and my big mouth.

∗ ∗ ∗

“I need the corner table in the back,” I said, pointing it out to Lucille and Courtney, the waitresses working the lunch shift at Duke’s.

“Gonna do some necking back there?” Lucille elbowed Courtney, a sandy-haired single mom who had started yesterday. “You should have seen her and Steve going at it in the kitchen last Saturday.”

A misfire of an idea if there ever was one. “It’s not for me. Patsy is having a meeting in twenty minutes and needs some privacy.” And if I didn’t grab that table to tuck Mitch away where Duke couldn’t see the two of us together, he would have a different kind of go at me in the kitchen.

“No problem,” Courtney said. “As soon as those ladies are done I’ll put the
Reserved
sign on it.”

Lucille snickered. “This is a diner, honey. We don’t have
Reserved
signs.”

Courtney pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and smiled contentedly. “We do now.”

“Where the heck did that come from?” Lucille asked.

“Me.” I had printed it at work. “One more thing, Mitch Grundy is going to be joining Patsy.”

Lucille frowned. “What for?”

“It’s a lunch date meeting that I have to be at. So, if Duke sees him come in, just tell him that he’s not here to try to sell him anything.” At least I hoped Mitch had the good sense not to be a salesman today.

After the girls assured me that they had the situation covered, I ducked out the door and crossed the street to Clark’s Pharmacy to make myself scarce for the next twenty-five minutes.

As long as I was there I figured I could buy some shampoo to replace the bottle I’d left in Steve’s shower, and maybe pick up a protein bar in case lunch went badly and Patsy wanted me to leave. Preferably a protein bar covered with chocolate. It would be healthy without being sanctimonious about it. Of course, Mr. Clark had to shelve them in the candy aisle, where lusciously gooey chocolate bars were calling my name. And as it happened, where Cameron Windom was buying a pack of sugar-free gum.

“Not tempted, huh?” I said, feeling much braver in the daylight about this sighting than I had last night.

He blinked. “What?”

“By all this chocolate.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’m not much of a chocolate fiend.”

No, he was the non-chocolate variety. “How’re you doing?”

“I’ve had better days.”

You and me both. “Are things improving for you at work?”

“I think we’re all just trying to get through everything that’s going on as well as we can.”

He was a little twitchy, his feet in constant motion, just like when I had interviewed him over a week ago.

“How’s Mrs. McCutcheon? Have you had an opportunity to speak with her since the funeral?”

“No, not really.”

Is that so, because you saw her last night.

“Sorry, I should get going,” he said, inching toward the register. “Got a customer coming…any minute.”

Sheesh, this guy was such a bad liar. Victoria needed to give him some pointers.

I nodded politely. “Have a nice afternoon.”

I watched him scurry away like the rat I suspected he was. Frightened that someone might be onto him? Good. He should be. Maybe that would lead to him making a big enough mistake that someone with a scarier badge than mine might notice.

I’d certainly made enough mistakes of my own lately.

I tossed a chocolate bar into my basket. “What does one more matter?”

∗ ∗ ∗

As soon as I spotted Mitch Grundy enter the cafe with Patsy on his arm, I settled up at the pharmacy register and then jaywalked across the street.

Opening the door to the familiar tinkle of the silver bell above my head, I waved at Duke, who was scowling at me from behind the grill.

“What? I haven’t even done anything yet,” I said, popping my head into the kitchen.

“Didn’t you see that turkey, Grundy, come in right before you?”

“He’s not here to sell you anything. That turkey happens to be a friend of Patsy’s, so you stay on your side of this door and he’ll stay on his.” At least he’d better. And I knew I’d have to do my best to make sure that the turkey didn’t venture back here to have some face time with the salty dog holding the carving knife.

Much like everything having to do with this lunch meeting—whether I wanted to or not.

Stepping in front of the bakery case, I expected to see Patsy waving at me from the far corner. Instead, I saw the same two gray hairs who had occupied the booth twenty minutes earlier. Not good!