2 A Deadly Beef (3 page)

After
ten rings, Jenny’s cell phone went to voicemail, though. 

"She’s
not answering," I said, and then turned to Moose.  "Sorry, but
we’re going to have to wait until four when she shows up."

Moose
looked at his watch in disgust.  "Victoria, that’s nearly
ninety minutes."

"What
else can we do?  As good as he is, Greg can’t take the orders, make
the meals, and then ring everyone up at the register, too."

"Don’t
worry about me.  I can handle it," my husband said, but there was a
distinct lack of confidence in his voice as he said it.

"It’s
impossible, and you know it.  I’m not even going to ask you to
try," I said.

"Hang
on.  Let me make a call," Moose said as he headed for the dining
room.

I
didn’t think he’d have any more luck than I had, but knowing Moose,
he might actually have a number for Jenny that I wasn’t aware of.  I
knew that the two of them were friends, but to what extent, I didn’t have
a clue.

"We’re
all set," Moose said thirty seconds later when he came back into the
kitchen.  "She’s on her way."

I was
a little hurt by his instant success.  "How did you manage to track
Jenny down when I couldn’t find her myself?"

Moose
looked surprised by my question.  "You told me Jenny wasn’t
answering her phone."

"Then
who did you call?"

"Your
grandmother," Moose admitted.

"I
thought she was retired from the diner life for good this time," I said.

"She’s
always willing to lend a hand; you know that, Victoria.  Besides, Martha
gets bored sometimes, and coming in to work the front every now and then is good
for her."

"If
you say so," I said.

Martha
was there to take my place in less than ten minutes, and I kissed Greg goodbye
before my grandfather and I left the diner. 

"Take
care of yourself, Victoria," Greg said softly.  "I don’t
know what I’d do without you."

"You
don’t have to worry about me.  I’ll be fine," I said,
happy to have someone like him concerned about my safety and wellbeing.

Moose
was snagging a quick kiss from Martha when I walked out into the dining room,
and it was too good an opportunity to tease him to pass up.  "Come
on, Moose, are you going to investigate with me, or are you going to just hang
around the diner kissing Martha for the rest of the day?"

"Hold
your horses.  I’m coming with you," he said as he gave his
wife one last peck before we headed out the door.

I
never looked forward to investigating murder, but the task still seemed to fall
at my feet anyway.  If I were being honest about it, I’d have to
admit that there was a part of me that enjoyed the puzzle aspects of tracking
down a killer, but I was always aware of just how dangerous what we did was to
our lives. 

One
mistake would be all that it would take for either one of us to come to a bad
end, and that thought was never far from my mind when we went in search of a
killer.

The
day was glorious, one of those autumn moments that made the foothills and
mountains of North Carolina so wonderful to experience, and something I never
grew tired of.  Though the leaves were mostly gone from the trees, there
were still a few stragglers holding on until later, and they flickered and
danced in the wind as it passed them by.  We’d had our share of
chilly weather so far this season, but at the moment, we were enjoying sunny
days and cool evenings.  It was my favorite time of year, and not even
Wally Bain’s murder could steal all of the pleasure that I took in the
season.

"How
do you like driving Dad’s truck?" I asked Moose as I buckled my
seatbelt. 

"It
was mine in the first place, remember?"

I’d
been in an accident in Moose’s truck, and it had been declared beyond
repair by the insurance company, as well as the only mechanic in the county
that my grandfather trusted.  My dad had taken the opportunity to sell my
grandfather back his old truck for a single dollar bill.  It was an old
Ford pickup that he hadn’t driven in years, but it was still nicer than
the one I’d managed to destroy.  The dollar bill was easily
explained.  There was no way any man in my family would take something for
free, and the irony was that Moose had sold the truck to Dad several years
before, again, for a single buck. 

I
found it fitting that nobody had made, or lost, a dime on the transaction.

"I’m
not about to forget that it was yours.  After all, you taught me to drive
in it.  You haven’t forgotten that, have you?"

"How
do you think I got all of these gray hairs?" my grandfather said. 
It hadn’t been an easy or particularly pleasant experience for either one
of us, but he was the only one I’d allowed to give me lessons. 
"You had them long before I came along," I said.

"Not
true, and you know it," he said with a grin.  "I’ve
always looked youthful for a man my age."

"Is
it hard to get used to driving it again?" I asked as I lightly stroked
the dashboard.

"I’m
getting used to it," he said as he looked out through the windshield at
the paint job, a monotone blue with just a few patches of gray primer on the
hood.  "I just wish that it was a little more colorful."

"You
can always just spot-paint it yourself," I said, remembering what a patchwork
of different colors his old truck had been.  "I’ll even throw
in half a dozen cans of spray paint myself."

"Don’t
rush the process, Victoria.  It’ll get there all on its own. 
Now, who should we tackle first?  I don’t want to get in Sheriff
Croft’s way, but we have to get started."

I
thought about it as he started the truck, and then said, "Penny Rusk
works at The Suds Center, so I doubt she’s going anywhere.  Dave
Evans is at the grocery store more than I’m at the diner, so he’s
always around, too.  I say we try to find Ron Watkins first.  Do you
have any idea where the man might be, or should we just head to Laurel Landing
and see if we can find him roaming the streets, since that’s the last
place you saw him?"

"We
don’t have to drive that far," Moose said.  "I made a
few phone calls while you were talking to your folks on the phone, and it turns
out that Ron didn’t wander as far away from Jasper Fork as I was afraid
he might."

"Where
is he, Moose?  You’re not holding out on me, are you?"
Sometimes it was like pulling teeth getting my grandfather to tell me anything
that I didn’t know.

"Relax,
Victoria.  He’s helping out for a few weeks on Sally
Ketchum’s farm."

"Are
you telling me that he’s working right next door to Wally’s
place?" I asked.  It was as close as he could be without actually
being directly on Wally Bain’s land.

"That’s
right," Moose said.  "Let’s take a trip out there and
have a little chat with Ron.  What do you say?"

"I’m
all for it, but should we call the sheriff first and tell him what we’re
planning to do?" I asked.  I had no desire to get in the way of our
local law enforcement, even if it might mean that we were able to collect some
information about one of our suspects before Sheriff Croft could get around to
it.

"I’m
planning on leaving him a voice mail, actually," Moose said with the hint
of a smile.

"And
when exactly were you thinking about doing that?"

"I
believe somewhere around three minutes
after
we talk to Ron sounds about
good to me," Moose said.

"Are
you sure we shouldn’t give him a heads up first?"  I was
hesitant about crossing the sheriff, especially so close to when we’d
made our deal with him.

"Victoria, I’ll admit that I heard that Ron was going to be there for a while, but
what if that’s not true?  The worst thing that can happen is that
neither
of us gets a chance to talk to him while he’s still here.  If you
think of it that way, we’re actually doing the sheriff a favor.  Do
you honestly think he’ll drop everything to follow up on a lead
we
give him?  This way we can talk to the man first, and if he tells us
anything important, we’ll make that call straight away.  I
promise."

"I
guess I can live with that," I said, after I thought about it. 
"Still, I’m glad we’ve got Rebecca in our corner."

Moose
looked puzzled by the admission.  "So am I, but why did you bring
her up just now?"

"Think
about it.  If we get arrested for obstructing justice, it’s nice to
know that we’ve already got an attorney on retainer."

"We’ve
still got two, don’t we?" Moose asked.  "Monica Ingram
never returned your dollar, did she?"

"No. 
As far as I know, I’m still a client of hers."  I’d
retained the Laurel Landing attorney in a previous investigation.  She had
been much like Rebecca: smart, savvy, and a kindred spirit.

"Hang
on a second.  I thought we both hired her," Moose said.

"You
were too afraid to come out of the truck to talk to her, remember?" I
reminded Moose.  My grandfather had been a little intimidated by the
female attorney, though he’d never had any trouble with Rebecca. 
"Besides, it was my dollar that hired her."

He
reached over to the dash and pulled out a pair of quarters.  "There
you go.  Now we’re partners."

I
shrugged as I tucked the change into my pocket.

"Hey,
that’s out of my sweet tea fund," he said.  "I’m
going to need that back."

"Sorry,
but all transactions are final; there are no returns
or
refunds."

He
shook his head as a soft hint of laughter escaped.  "That’s my
girl."

"Hey,
I learned from the best.  With your money, I’m close to buying
another vehicle of my own.  After all, a dollar is the family currency,
isn’t it?"

"I
wasn’t aware that you needed a new car," he said.

"I
don’t at the moment, but you never know.  This crime fighting can be
dangerous business."

"You
don’t have to remind me," Moose said.  "I’m the
one who lost a truck, remember?"

When
we got to the turnoff to Sally’s farm, Moose and I found Ron transferring
neatly arranged centerpieces from the back of a four-wheeler to a table right
beside the county road.  Moose pulled his truck in, and as we got out, I
saw Ron flinch a little at the sight of us.  It appeared that he
wasn’t all that excited about seeing either one of us, but that
wasn’t going to stop us.

"Ron,
how are you doing?" Moose asked as he extended a hand, which the farmhand
took.

"Fair
to middling," Ron replied.  Somewhere in his early twenties, the
young man was tall and skinny, and I had a hard time believing that he could
lift more than fifty pounds, but Moose had vouched for his ability to work hard
and long, and I wasn’t about to dispute it.

"Do
you just leave these out here?" I asked as I looked at the display
pieces.  "What’s to keep people from just stealing
them?"

"I
asked Sally the same thing, but she told me that she’s never lost a dime
working by the honor system," he explained as he put out an old lidded
bucket for payment.

I
picked up one of the centerpieces and looked at it.  It was an intricate
arrangement of pinecones, branches, and flowers, all placed nicely in a shiny
new stainless steel pint bucket.  It was actually quite lovely, and I was
surprised to see that it was just six dollars.  "Is this price
right?" I asked him.

"Well,
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but they’re ten apiece in town
at the card shop," Ron explained with a grin, "but Sally thinks
that anyone who drives all the way out here for one should get a price
break.  Besides, she only gets five each from Mary Anne, so she’s
making more money off this deal."

I
counted the arrangements on the table and said, "We’ll take all ten
of them."

Moose
looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.  "You’re
kidding, right?"

"Not
at all.  These will look beautiful in the diner.  I’ve been
looking for something to freshen things up a little in the dining room to match
the season, and these are perfect."

Moose
just shrugged as I handed Ron sixty dollars. 

After
we loaded them into the back of the truck, Ron said, "Thanks for stopping
by.  Sally will be pleased with the sale.  You two have a nice day
now, okay?"

Moose
looked at him and said, "All evidence to the contrary, we’re here
for more than a little shopping.  Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Sure,
I suppose I can take a break.  What do you need?"

"We’d
like to talk to you about Wally Bain," I said.

Ron’s
face immediately tightened.  "Sorry, but that’s a topic
I’m not interested in discussing."

"Ron,"
Moose said.  "You really should reconsider.  Folks are talking
about how he ran you off his land not long before he was murdered.  It
doesn’t look good, you know what I mean?  Wouldn’t you like a
chance to tell your side of it?"

As far
as I knew, no one was talking about that at all yet, but then again, word did
manage to spread quickly around Jasper Fork.  For all that I knew, Moose
was right on the money with his claim.

"Who’s
saying that?" Ron asked defensively.

"At
this point, who’s not?" Moose asked.  "What happened
between the two of you, anyway?"

Ron
looked down at his hands as though he wanted to cry, and I felt bad that we
were pressuring him, but it couldn’t be helped.

"I
told you, I don’t want to talk about it, and you can’t make
me."

"Ron,
where were you when Wally was murdered?" my grandfather asked pointedly.

The
farmhand just shook his head and scowled.

This
was not going well at all. 

I
looked at Moose, and then made a quick jerking gesture with my head.  He
understood immediately that I wanted to try questioning Ron myself, and to my
delight, my grandfather complied with my request.  "Okay,
that’s fine.  I completely understand.  If you two will excuse
me, I’ve got to make a phone call."