“Ow.” I stood up, rubbing my bruised butt. My eyes met Lionel’s. If he laughed, I’d deck him. To his credit he didn’t. “Okay,” I said, shaking off my humiliation. “What did I do wrong?”
Lionel pointed to the saddle. “You have to hold on to the handle for balance. Try it again.”
I took a deep breath. Then, grabbing the handle with both hands, I closed my eyes and hauled myself into the seat. I opened one eye and grinned. I did it. I was sitting on a camel. This was so cool. Elwood looked at me and rolled his eyes. See, I thought, even the camel was proud of me.
“Okay, Rebecca, it’s time for you and Elwood to take a ride.” Before I could ask what he was going to do, Lionel tugged on the rope, and Elwood clambered to his feet. I jiggled side to side, sending the contents of my stomach rolling. My choice to eat all those pastries for breakfast was looking like a very bad idea.
My hands turned white as they clung to the handle for dear life. I wrapped my legs tight against Elwood’s flank as my body tilted precariously from one side to the other. Somehow, miraculously, I stayed seated on Elwood, who was now standing upright.
Lionel looked impressed. “I didn’t even hang on the first time I tried that. Good job.”
I smiled down at him, and my heart lurched into my throat. The ground was suddenly a long way down. “Thanks,” I said, swallowing down my apprehension. I had come this far, and I wasn’t going to chicken out now. Straightening my shoulders, I asked, “Does this ride move forward or is it strictly up and down?”
Lionel tugged on the lead rope, and Elwood started forward. At first all I could think about was breaking my tailbone on the ground below. After a few minutes I stopped worrying and began to enjoy myself. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I was riding a camel. Did life get any better than this?
Lionel’s voice interrupted my Hallmark card moment. “Do you want to go faster?”
I grinned, and Lionel signaled for Elwood to pick up the pace. Now we were trotting. The ride was fun for about five minutes; then my butt started to protest. Riding Elwood was a lot like my life, unexpected and very bumpy.
“Hey,” I shouted down to Lionel. “How do I stop him?”
Elwood’s head swiveled toward me. His feet came to an abrupt halt, sending my body flying forward over the pommel. In slow motion I watched the ground as it zoomed closer. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for painful contact. Instead, a pair of strong arms caught me and pulled me close.
I found myself looking right into Lionel’s deep green eyes. He gave me a sheepish smile. “I should have warned you. Elwood responds to commands from people he likes.”
“I’m glad he likes me.”
“Yeah. Too bad he’s not the only one.” Lionel’s eyes darkened. My mouth went dry as he dipped his head toward mine. I licked my lips in anticipation of the touch of his lips against my…forehead?
I blinked as Lionel set me back on my own two feet. What happened? Did I have éclair breath?
Lionel walked over to Elwood and started unbuckling Elwood’s saddle. Over his shoulder he said, “If you’re feeling better, maybe we should talk about your car.”
My car? “What about my car?”
He gave me one of those “boy, are you dense” looks. “It had a big nail in one of its tires. Remember?”
Shrugging off the returning panic, I said, “Zach is fixing my tire. What else do you need to talk about?”
“Someone flattened your tire on purpose.”
I nodded. “I know. Probably the same person who scribbled on the rink doors.”
“It could be the same person who murdered Mack.” Lionel’s voice rang with concern. He squinted at me in the bright sunlight as he tried to judge my reaction.
“I thought of that,” I admitted.
“And?”
Elwood nosed my arm looking for attention. I ignored Lionel’s pointed stare and scratched Elwood’s head. I could see Lionel out of the corner of my eye waiting for me to say more.
Throwing up my hands, I huffed, “And I don’t know. The person who wrote on the door used lipstick. That’s a little childish for a cold-blooded killer, don’t you think?” I also thought that the color was all wrong for a maniac. Charles Manson wouldn’t wear Passionate Plum.
Lionel didn’t appreciate my logic. “The thing in your tire wasn’t childish. Someone wants to scare you out of town.”
“I’d love to accommodate them,” I quipped. “Only I can’t.”
Elwood nuzzled me, and I looked around the pasture for some kind of treat. No treats, only Lionel standing leaning against the fence with his hands wedged in his back pockets and his foot tapping the ground. His eyes narrowed.
“Okay,” I conceded. “I’ll stop by the sheriff’s office and file a report about my car. Happy?”
He nodded in agreement, but annoyance lingered in his eyes. Now I was irritated. Two minutes ago I’d been happy after taking a perfectly fun camel ride. Now Lionel was spoiling the moment by not kissing me and dredging up psychotic killers.
I let Lionel drive me to the sheriff’s office. As I grabbed the door handle, I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“If you need help you’ll call me, right?”
“Sure I will.” Maybe.
He leaned close. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” My breath caught as his lips brushed mine. A second later, they were gone. “Here,” he said as he reached under his seat and pulled out the nail used to deflate my tire. “Give this to the sheriff.”
Breathless, I hopped out of the truck. My legs gave a tiny quiver, but I stayed upright as I clutched the rusty spike to my chest and watched Lionel drive off.
Wow, I thought. Either I was desperate or Doctor Lionel Franklin packed a hell of a wallop. If his lips could make me all tingly from a single touch, I couldn’t help wondering what they could do with more time.
Roxy was at her desk wielding a compact and a mascara wand. She looked up at me and smiled. “Hey, Rebecca. I was wondering when you’d come by.”
“Why?” I asked. Maybe the grapevine had gotten hold of information about my flat tire. “Did you hear something?”
Roxy squinted into her little mirror. “Deputy Holmes said he found you snooping around Mack’s place. Personally, I think he should have busted you.” Roxy glared at me from around the mirror. “He didn’t because Sean’s got a thing for redheads.”
What luck, I thought.
I dropped the rusty nail thingy on the counter, sending the sound of metal hitting Formica ringing throughout the room. Roxy jumped and almost poked her eye out with the mascara wand.
“What’s that?” she demanded. I couldn’t help feeling a stab of satisfaction that I finally had her attention.
I shrugged. “Beats me. I found it sticking out of my tire. I guess redheads aren’t everyone’s type.”
Quickly, I related the story of my flattened tire.
Hearing about the note made the pencil-enhanced eyebrows on Roxy’s face rise. “Wow, Rebecca. You really pissed someone off.”
Roxy handed over the report she’d scribbled out. I read it and signed my name. Then I casually rested my elbows on the counter and asked, “Have they figured out what was used to drug Mack?”
“Yes and no.” Roxy grabbed her compact and attacked her nose with the powder puff.
I blinked. “What’s that mean?”
Roxy peered at me. The white powder and the dark mascara she’d applied made her look like a mime. “Yes, Doc Truman figured it out, and no, I ain’t going to tell you, Rebecca. You need to let the authorities here do their jobs. Now get out of here, and tell your grandfather I say hello.” She gave me a fake smile that I returned with one of my own.
I walked out into the sunshine. As far as I could tell, Sheriff Jackson was a gardener and Sean Holmes was annoying, which meant if I waited for them to do their jobs I’d have a lovely garden and a bad disposition to show for it. Neither was appealing.
Clenching my fists as I considered my next move, I fel
t something dig into my palm. I looked down and realized I’d forgotten to leave the nail with Roxy.
I glanced back at the sheriff’s front door. Nope, I didn’t want to go back in there. I dropped the nail into my purse and vowed to come back when Roxy wasn’t busy practicing her Halloween makeup.
I checked my watch and pulled out my cell phone. Zach had taken my car four hours ago, which meant he should have gotten the tire changed by now. My fingers dialed the number on the card Zach gave me, and my foot tapped the sidewalk as I waited for him to pick up the phone.
“Yeah.”
Eloquent. I identified myself and asked, “How’s my car?”
“You can pick it up anytime.”
I looked back at his card with a sigh. The address on the card put Zach’s shop near the highway. That was over a mile and a half outside of town. While the walk wasn’t all that far, I didn’t think strolling around town alone was a good idea. A deranged person was plunging rusty objects into things, and I didn’t want to be the next target.
With no means of transportation, I did what any woman would do. I played the helpless female card. In my best phone sex voice, I filled Zach in on my dilemma. A couple of feminine sighs cinched the deal, and Zach volunteered to meet me downtown at the diner with my car. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all, and this time it came in the form of a mechanic in overalls. I shoved my cell phone back in my purse and, not seeing any homicidal maniacs walking down the street, headed toward the restaurant.
The Hunger Paynes Diner was located about a block from the sheriff’s office on the corner of Main and Center Street. Sammy and Mabel Pezzopayne had been running the place forever. There were grease stains on the menus at least as old as me. Still, what the place lacked in originality it more than made up for with its juicy hamburgers, enormous sandwiches, and grease-soaked fries.
I took a seat at the counter, and Sam emerged from the kitchen long enough to say hi and bring me a Diet Coke. I sipped it while I contemplated the faded menu. I decided on a turkey club and a side salad, no fries. If Mack’s murderer decided to kill me next, I didn’t want to be fat.
A lanky teenaged girl holding a notepad scooted behind the counter. She gave me a toothy smile, then asked me for my order. I gave it to her, and she yelled it back to Sammy. Then, cocking her head to one side, the girl gave me a puzzled frown. Her eyes widened.
“You’re Rebecca Robbins, right?”
“Do I know you?” I read her name tag: Diane. I didn’t remember meeting any Dianes.
Diane shook her brunette head with a grin. “No, but I’ve heard all about you. Brittany thinks you’re really cool, and everyone is talking about how you found the dead body and how you’re asking questions around town like a cop. I bet you’re a homicide detective or something in the city, aren’t you?”
The girl’s mouth moved so fast it was a blur. On top of that, she said the word “city” as if it were “Mars.” Funny, but Diane kind of reminded me of me when I was in high school—blue eyes, excitement to spare, and a very active imagination. While I hated to squelch her enthusiasm, I had to say, “Nope. I’m a mortgage broker.”
“Oh.” Diane’s face fell. She looked like I’d stepped on her puppy. After a few sad-looking seconds, though, her brilliant smile was back. “But you are trying to solve the murder, right?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug.
She acted as if my response had been an enthusiastic yes. “I knew it,” she declared. “I heard from my mom you’re being threatened because of it and everything. She thinks you’re crazy for making yourself a target, but I think it’s very cool.”
Diane and I had different definitions of the word “cool.” “Who’s your mom?” I was hoping my grandfather hadn’t hit on the mystery woman.
“Roxy Moore. My name’s Diane.”
The bell on the front door jangled, sending Diane flying around the counter to assist the new customers and leaving me to shake my head. I’d almost forgotten how small this town was. Everyone is related somehow to someone you know.
I sipped my soda and watched Diane whiz around the diner taking orders and chatting up the customers. The girl was fresh faced. No makeup. No hair spray. It wasn’t hard to believe that I’d missed the connection between Diane and Roxy, but now that I knew it my mind started to whirl with the possibilities. What else might Roxy have told her daughter?
Diane brought me my food with a smile. Before she could zip off, I began to chatter. “It’s hard to believe Roxy has a daughter old enough to work in a diner. How old are you? Are you still in school?”
“I turn seventeen next month. Today was early dismissal, so Sam let me pick up an extra shift. I’m saving my money for when I graduate in two years. Brittany and I are going to get an apartment together in the city just like you.”
My appetite disappeared. Diane had made me remember my lack of living quarters in the city. The camel ride had helped wipe away my problems for a while, but now my depression was back full force.
“Make sure you look me up when you get there. I can show you around anytime,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. Then, lowering my voice, I leaned in toward my new ally. “So you know I’m looking into Mack’s death. Have you heard anything interesting here in the diner?”
Technically, I was interested in what Roxy said at home, but I thought this was a better way to go. Diane’s face clouded. I added, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s my mother. She told me not to answer any of your questions. Mom said you’re causing trouble for her sheriff’s department.”
“Oh.” I pushed the rabbit food around on my plate, disconcerted that Roxy was a step ahead of me.
Diane hurried to explain. “My mom is obsessed with her job. She thinks she runs the place. On top of that she’s got a major crush on that stupid Sean Holmes.” Diane’s nose crinkled with disgust, raising my estimation of the girl by several notches. “I think she’s wrong about you causing problems. She told me the sheriff and Sean are having a hard time with the case. I don’t see how you could do any worse.”
“Thanks,” I said, not sure if Diane had actually paid me a compliment. Still, I was certain the teenager had information she wanted to share. I asked again, “What do you know about Mack Murphy?”
Diane bit her lip and did a quick scan of the diner. I craned my neck to look with her. There were seven other people in the place, and only one elderly couple was within whispering earshot. Considering the way they were yelling at each other, I was betting their hearing aid batteries needed changing. No way either of them could overhear anything we were saying.
Diane must have come to the same conclusion, because she whispered, “Mack met some really big guy in here a couple of weeks ago. I waited on the two of them. They didn’t like each other very much.”
“Really?” My eyes widened at the possibility of a new lead. “Did you hear anything they were saying?”
Diane’s face colored a vibrant shade of pink, and she hung her head. “I was curious, so I pretended to wash the table behind them. The big guy told Mack he had to pay up or give back something.”
I leaned forward. “Did either of them say what the something was?” Maybe it was nine thousand dollars’ worth of something.
Diane shook her head. “No, but Mack mentioned something about not going through normal channels. He said the guy couldn’t prove he had the thing or what it was worth.”
Okay, now I was confused. What normal channels was Mack talking about? Diane’s eyes darted toward a table to the left. I knew I was about to lose my informant to coffee pouring, so I quickly asked, “Could you describe the guy Mack was with?”
Four thought lines puckered Diane’s forehead. “He looked like he was my mom’s age, oh, and he was really tall. I remember when he got up I thought he looked like a football player.” Diane grinned. “I’m a cheerleader at Indian Falls High.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Is there anything else
you can tell me about the guy? I think finding him might be important.”
“Really?” Diane’s eyes brightened, and she thought for a moment. “He ordered a cheeseburger.”
“Diane, table three needs you.” Sam’s disembodied voice came from the kitchen. He sounded a lot like the Great and Powerful Oz. Diane must have thought so, too, because she gave me a quick, apologetic smile and scurried to the tables behind me.
Damn, I thought. Diane’s vague description brought the scary Anthony Catalano to mind, but it could be someone else for all I knew.
I munched on my sandwich while mentally scrolling through the facts of the case. Nothing seemed to go together. The pills, Mack’s kicking the cat, the money, Annette’s threatening letter, the mysterious object, all the other angry customers—any one could be a motive for murder. I only hoped the killer left my tires inflated and my car drivable until I figured it out.
Twelve
The tinkle of an entry bell made me turn, and I watched a grease-coated Zach step into the diner. I wiggled my fingers in his direction, and he stalked toward me. My keys hit the counter with a clang.
“Your car’s in the parking lot. The old tire was too far gone for patching, so I got you a new one.”
Grateful, I smiled up at him. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. What do I owe you?”
Zach grunted, making me hope he was a better mechanic than a conversationalist. I braced myself for the inevitable checkbook gouging. My car’s last visit to a mechanic induced cardiac arrest—and that wasn’t same-day service.
An expressionless Zach reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of pink paper. I swallowed hard, took the paper, and unfolded it. I read the amount and blinked. Maybe stress had affected my vision, because as far as I could tell the bill read thirty-four dollars and ninety-seven cents. I peered up at Zach. Maybe the guy had failed math. “That’s it?”
Zach’s cheeks turned pink, and his lips curled into a sheepish smile. “This isn’t the city, you know.”
Why did everyone feel compelled to remind me of that?