Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death: A Comfort Food Mystery (13 page)

My mouth went dry. “
Chica,
are you trying to match-make?”

“
Sí
.
”
She peeked at me through her long black eyelashes. “You two make a nice couple.”

I shook my head. “He’s not my type.”

And I’m not his type.
I thought of what he said about Aileen Shubert and her short shorts.
Not my thing at all.
However, I was planning on stunning him with my sequined dress—well, Aunt Stella’s sequined dress.

No!
I was wearing the elegant dress for myself, not for any transplanted cowboy from Houston.

What was I thinking?

I was thinking that I should get my hair colored
or low-lighted. My blond hair looked a little washed-out. And maybe some white streaks in it would jazz it up. Wait. Aileen had white streaks, and I didn’t want to look like her—not that I could. So I’d skip the streaks, and go with the low lights and one of those new cuts with lots of layers.

“See you later, Juanita.”

“Adios.”

I called Harbor Hair before I forgot. They had a cancellation and could take me in fifteen minutes. Other than that appointment, they were all booked with Miss Salmon contestants and couldn’t fit me in until after the pageant.

“I’ll be there. Fifteen minutes.”

I delivered to Antoinette Chloe her B-B-B, chocolate milk shake, and two cherry hand pies. When I arrived, she said that she was cleaning her room.

I didn’t see any difference.

Antoinette Chloe shook her head. “I can’t believe that my glittery pink fingernail is gone from the set. So is my motorcycle earring that I wore on my last ride with Nick. My favorite fascinator and the little yellow bunny are gone. That was the cutest bunny. I remember putting the hat and bunny on the windowsill. I was going to glue the bunny back on.” She reached for the take-out container. “Ty said that I’d get everything back when the case is over.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and the old springs groaned in protest. Popping open the white foam container, she took a bite of her B-B-B club.

“This is good,” she said. “Lots of mayonnaise.”

Yikes.

“And the milk shake is nice and thick,” she said.

“Uh, Antoinette Chloe, I’m going to get my hair cut and dyed at Harbor Hair. Are you going to be okay here alone?”

“Of course. I’m going to bed early.”

“Do you mind if I take your van? I’m about of gas and I don’t have time to stop along the way.” I checked my watch. I had to get moving.

“Of course.” She reached across her bed and handed me a fistful of key chains with one or two keys attached somewhere.

As I left, I knocked on Vern McCoy’s car. Oops, I forgot to bring him a sandwich. That was thoughtless of me.

“Vern, call the Silver Bullet and have Clyde or Max bring you a sandwich or something. It’s on me. Oh, and Antoinette Chloe said that she’s going to bed early, but don’t believe her. She always changes her mind when she thinks of something better to do. I’m going to get my hair done.”

“Okay, thanks, but I don’t want to blow my cover.”

“When Ty relieves you, go to the diner, then.”

“I will. Thanks.”

It was dark before I drove downtown. I was driving fifty-five on the highway as posted, but high beams glared at me from the car behind me, blinding me.

What the hell?
I was going the speed limit.

I felt a bump from behind, and instead of
slowing down like I should have, I sped up. The car behind me gunned it and hit me from behind again.

What a psycho!

My heart was thumping in my chest, and I was barely breathing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the rearview mirror. The car bumped into me again.

I screamed, “Stop it!”

I turned onto Route 13. The speed limit on Route 13 was thirty. As I slowed down to thirty, the car bumped me again. I pulled into Mrs. Green’s driveway and waited. If the car pulled in behind me, I was going to spray him or her with my Save A Buck Evening Melody body mist.

The car kept on going, and by the glow of the streetlights, I could see that it looked like a red T-Bird. Chad Dodson’s red T-Bird.

He could have killed me!

Shaking, I drove to Harbor Hair, even though I’d rather just drive home and have an iced-tea glass full of lime green Kool-Aid and a glazed donut and relax.

However, I had to press on, or I’d never get another appointment.

But when I saw Chad Dodson again, he was going to get a piece of my mind. Then I was going to kick him off my property. I didn’t particularly care where he went either, or if Ty would have to track him like Davy Crockett.

*   *   *

Almost two hours later, and after way too much Harbor Hair chatter, I looked gorgeous. Though my head was about to explode from my
near-death experience on the highway, the chemicals, and all the gossip. I was ready to go home.

Rachael Diamond, the owner of Harbor Hair, walked me out, still talking. “I’m so glad that Antoinette Chloe is out of jail. We were all going to pitch in and bail her out, but there was no way this place is worth three million. I’m glad you got her out, Trixie.”

“How did you know it was me? Shaun Williamson?”

“Oh yeah. He’s the biggest gossip this side of the Mississippi.” She held up a large coffee can. “We also have a pool as to who killed Nick. Do you want to place a bet? The choices are: Sal, Toxic Waste, Chad Dodson, Antoinette Chloe, or a Sandy Harbor resident other than Antoinette Chloe or Sal.”

“Who’s the Vegas favorite?” I asked, just wondering how public feeling was leaning.

“Chad Dodson. Everyone feels that he has the most to gain with the insurance thing. With Nick dead, Sal in jail, and Antoinette Chloe heading there if she’s convicted, he’s the logical choice.”

“Even though Chad’s rolling in dough?” I knew that his family disowned him, so that was a trick question.

“His family is rolling in dough, not Chad. Rumor has it that his family disowned him,” Rachael said. “But Antoinette Chloe is running a close second. You know, that sausage-stabbing incident at the Silver Bullet propelled her up the chart.”

Wow!
The gossip at Harbor Hair was almost better than my entire investigation so far. I should hang around here more often.

“Who’s your source?” I asked.

“You know I can’t give away sources. Then we wouldn’t get any information.”

“Do you cut Vern McCoy’s hair?”

“Why . . . yes.”

How about Lou Rutledge’s hair?”

“Uh . . . sure. Lou comes here.”

“Ty Brisco’s?”

“No. He goes to Joe the barber.”

“I see.”

I stuffed a tip in her right hand and a five in her left hand. “Put me down for five on Chad Dodson.”

“Will do, Trixie. See you at the pageant.”

When I got home, I marched right up to Chad Dodson’s mega motor home and knocked. His T-Bird was still in place, like it had never left.

He opened the door. “What?”

“What do you mean bumping my car from behind? I could have been killed!”

“You’re going to have to translate that sentence for me.”

“Chad, don’t mess with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“Nor am I.” He yawned—it was a phony yawn, like I was boring him. I wanted to grab him by his golf shirt and pull him down the stairs.

“You bumped my car—well, it was actually Antoinette Chloe’s van—with your red T-Bird at least four times on Route 3 and Route 13, and don’t deny it.”

“My car never left here tonight—ask anyone—and without a doubt I wouldn’t ruin a vintage car. Now, is there anything else?”

I mumbled a few blue words as I walked to his car to examine his front bumper. I didn’t see any scratches, but it was shadowy in spite of the lights around the parking lot.

“Well?” he said.

“I’ll be back, and while I’m gone, you’d better make plans to clear off my land.”

“I would, my dear Trixie, but I can’t. Your cowboy friend, the deputy sheriff, stopped by tonight and reminded me not to leave again. He said he wanted to talk to me again and wanted me where he could find me. What do you make of that?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Dodson, but I’ll tell you what I’m hoping.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m hoping that he arrests you. After all, I have a five-dollar bet riding on you.”

I
found Ty sitting on my porch, the one facing the lake. He was surrounded by the pageant contestants living in my house and the notorious Antoinette Chloe, murder suspect.

“Trixie, your hair looks fabulous!” ACB said. “All you need is one of my fascinators to jazz it up.”

“Thanks, Antoinette Chloe, but I never wear hats. I look hideous in them.”

Ty’s eyes twinkled. “Your hair does look nice.”

My mouth suddenly went dry.

“Where did you get it done?” ACB asked. “Harbor Hair?”

“Yes. It’s the only place in town other than Joe the barber’s. Two-thirds of the Sandy Harbor Sheriff’s Department goes to Harbor Hair.” I shot a “your deputies blab too much” look at Ty, but he was too busy flirting with Aileen to pick it up on it.

Jane O’Clemmons got up and sat cross-legged on the floor of the porch, at Ty’s feet. “Take my chair, Trixie.”

“Thanks, Jane.”

ACB put a hand on the arm of my Adirondack chair. She wore at least four pounds of bracelets
on that wrist and the same poundage on the other side—for balance.

“Trixie, we all were thinking. When the other contestants arrive for the dress rehearsal, how about if we have a little reception for them so everyone can meet?” Antoinette Chloe said.

“What a nice idea.”

“We were thinking that we could have it at the auditorium in front of the stage. I’ll arrange everything with Fingers.”

“I’m working tonight,” I said. “I’ll make cookies.”

“That’s very generous of you, sweetie. You’ve done so much already for everyone.” She started to cry.

I patted her hand. “Antoinette Chloe, dry your eyes. Be happy. Our first pageant will be a success, with all the hard work you did.”

“That the committee did.”

“Let’s hear it for Antoinette Chloe, Trixie, and the committee!” Aileen said in her best cheerleader voice.

There was a round of applause and cheers. Even Ty joined in.

He sure was enjoying his role as a cop surrounded by beautiful young women. Oh, wait, he
was
a cop surrounded by beautiful young women.

ACB and I included!

At least we were young compared to the Wheelchair Grannies of the Sandy Harbor Golden Age Apartments.

And that got me thinking. “Antoinette Chloe, how are the Wheelchair Grannies going to get to and from the auditorium?”

“Bonnie Hoff has a wheelchair lift on her van. She’s going to transport them.”

“Great. Anything I should do?” I asked, holding my breath. I didn’t know if I could add one more thing to my already very full plate.

“No. Just show up to judge. I’ll have the score sheets there.”

“Who are the other judges?” I asked ACB.

“My ex-friend Marty Butler, Kathy Prellman from the car repair, Lois Valton from the candle shop, and Rachael Diamond from Harbor Hair.”

“Five of us?”

“Well, we don’t want ties.”

The girls were getting excited. I could tell by the high-pitched conversations and giggles.

“What about you, Miss Shubert? You seem pretty calm,” Ty said. “Are you excited?”

“Of course.”

“But you must be used to competing in pageants.”

“Each one is new and different.”

“How?” I asked.

“This one is very small-town. The last one I did, in Vegas, had more hype and glamor,” she said, looking at her nails. “I won that one,” Aileen said.

“What was it called?” one of the girls asked, just as I was about to.

“Uh . . . Miss Casino,” Aileen said.

“Which one?” Ty asked.

She winked one of her deep-blue eyes. “Why, all of them.”

ACB grunted as she rose to her feet. “Ladies, I think we should all head up to bed and get our
beauty sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a jam-packed day.”

There were nods, and just about all the contestants voiced agreement. All except Aileen. “I could stay here forever and listen to Ty’s stories.”

He sat up taller in his chair. “I probably should get going, too. It’s been a nice evening, ladies. Happy trails and happy dreams.”

He tweaked his hat brim. And I saw all the ladies start to swoon.
Oh, brother.

I waved to everyone as they left, but I stayed to talk to Ty. “A car followed me to Harbor Hair. He bumped the van a couple times.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, scanning my body for boo-boos. How sweet.

I flushed. “I’m fine, but it scared me.”

“Were you driving your car?”

“No, Antoinette Chloe’s white van.”

He pushed his hat back with a thumb and shook his head.

“Oh my! He must’ve thought I was Antoinette Chloe! That slimeball!”

“That’s my guess. Did you get a good look at the driver?”

“It was Chad Dodson in his red T-Bird.”

“You saw him?”

“No, but nobody else has a car like that around here but him.”

“But I’ve been here most of the night. And I think I can safely say that he never took his car out.”

“It had to be him, Ty.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t see his face, so
you have no proof. It could have been some kids fooling around. Or someone in town for the pageant, or a drunken fisherman looking to have a little fun.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“I know. I’ll check some of the area car-rental places for a red T-Bird. You never know. And some of the used-car lots. If the perp is around, I’ll know soon.”

“Thanks. And by the way, what’s Toxic Waste been doing?”

“Lying low. He and his second, Mad Dog, haven’t made a peep since you snuffed out their loud music. The most I’ve caught is a whiff of marijuana, purely medicinal, I’m sure.”

“And what about Aileen Shubert?”

“Her record was as pure as the driven snow. No hit. It looks like she’s clean.”

“Could that be?”

“Of course. But it’s hard to be one hundred percent certain. I’d need to run her fingerprints to see if they are tied to any arrests,” he said.

“I’m going to check out her Miss Casino story on the Internet,” I said.

“Wait. I’ll use my phone.”

He did some typing and some scrolling. “Nope. Aileen wasn’t Miss Casino. Matter of fact, there really isn’t a Miss Casino pageant that she could even enter.”

“Another lie.” Then I had a scathingly brilliant idea. “If I can get you her fingerprints on a glass or something, can you run them through the
system? I just don’t want her to swindle the fund-raiser out of money if she’s lying.”

“It’ll take a while. I’d have to send it to the State Police headquarters in Albany. They have the equipment for that kind of thing and the database of prints to go along with it.”

“I’ll get it to you tomorrow,” I said.

“No need.” He held up a can of soda pop. “Got them already.”

“You’re good, Ty!”

“That’s what all the women say.”

*   *   *

It was about ten o’clock, and I decided to take a walk through Tent Town.

Grabbing a sweater from the hook on the back of the door, I did a lap around the Big House first. ACB’s window was open a bit, but her light was off.

Aileen’s light was off, too. The other rooms were still brightly lit, and I was sure there was nail polishing going on, along with some shaving and exfoliating.

I walked down the main path through the tents. Most of the grass was gone and mud was left. I walked on, trying not to slip and fall on the mud. Then I heard an unmistakable laugh.

“Antoinette Chloe?”

“Trixie! Come here and pull up a lawn chair. Join us. Toxic was telling us some fun motorcycle stories.”

“Aileen? Is that you?”

She hurriedly pulled her hand out of Toxic’s.

“Oops, caught again.” She giggled, covering a hiccup.

“And you’re drinking?” I asked her.

“No. Just ginger ale,” ACB said. “What kind of a chaperone do you think I am?”

“I don’t know.”

I felt like blasting her. She was sitting with a suspect and a contestant who was breaking the rules, although ACB didn’t know the extent to which Aileen had broken them.

Since when were ACB and Aileen so chummy? Not to mention being chummy with Toxic Waste.

“I’m talking Toxic into taking me with him to Sturgis, the big motorcycle rally, only he doesn’t want to put a sidecar on his bike.”

“Maybe Toxic will think of someone else in the Rubbers who’ll take you,” Aileen offered.

“That’d be nice,” ACB said.

“Toxic, don’t you have to get back to work someday?”

“I lost my enthusiasm for cooking since I lost a star with Michelin, thanks to Nick. I also lost my reputation with the Rubbers and the respect of my nephew when I didn’t produce the Panhead. And I lost my girlfriend. That was the most heartbreaking.” He was unabashedly drunk.

“Isn’t that romantic?” ACB sang, but apparently didn’t know the rest of the song.

Aileen sat with her hands on her lap, head down.

Toxic stared at Aileen with puppy-dog eyes.

What was going on?

Toxic shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve been mad at Nick—hated him, even—but, hey, I never wanted him dead. He was a good guy when he wasn’t being a jerk.”

“He definitely sounds like a jerk,” Aileen mumbled.

I looked at her. Did I hear that right? How did she know Nick enough to label him a jerk?

“I never thought he was a jerk,” ACB said quietly. “I thought he was terrific. He was a sweet man—very attentive and romantic. Boy, was he romantic!” She giggled, probably remembering her personalized thong.

I glanced at Aileen. She was glaring at ACB. When she saw me looking at her, though, she quickly looked away.

“What’s your background, Toxic?” I asked.

“I don’t have much of a story. I’m a cook at my Bavarian restaurant.”

Then I turned to Aileen. “And what was your last job?”

“Not a cook or a chef—that’s for sure. I was an administrative assistant for a . . . corporate lawyer.”

Aha! Seems like she’d forgotten what she wrote on her questionnaire.
But I remembered, since I’d re-read her application right after I found out she was lying about attending SU. She said that she was an administrative assistant for a pharmaceutical company.

“How long have you known Toxic, Aileen?”

“Why, we met here. We were both taking walks, and we started talking, and we just clicked.”

You did more than just click, pumpkin.

“Isn’t that a nice story?” ACB asked.

“Very nice.” I smiled at Aileen. “Well, I’d better go back to the house. Lots of things to do yet
before I start work, like take a power nap. Don’t be late, ladies.”

They all said good-bye to me, and I waved. I walked back through the muddy path and made the turn to the Big House. As soon as I did, something or someone jumped out of the shadows.

I was just about to scream until my lungs popped, but Ty put his hand over my mouth. I shoved his hand aside.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Deputy?”

My knees were ready to give out. I needed to sit down.

“Trixie, why aren’t ACB and Aileen in the house? What are they doing sitting with Toxic?”

“I . . . don’t . . . know! Ask ACB—she’s supposed to be the chaperone. Instead she’s hanging out and chitchatting. By the way, I caught Aileen in another lie. I’m going to search her room, Ty. Maybe I can find out who she really is.”

“Not a good time. Here she comes.”

Ty disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. ACB and Aileen turned the corner.

“Oh, Trixie, you’re still here?” ACB asked.

“Yeah, I was just looking at the stars. Bright, aren’t they?”

“They’re so close, I could just reach out and touch them,” Aileen said. Then she yawned. “I’d better get my beauty rest now. Good night, Trixie. Good night, Antoinette Chloe.”

“G’night,” I said.

ACB hugged her. “Good night, sweetie.”

I held ACB back from walking inside.
“Antoinette Chloe, Aileen may not be the sweet girl you think she is.”

“I know. She’s lied a couple of times on her questionnaire. I don’t think she was a classical dancer. She really has no rhythm. And her age? If she’s twenty-eight, then so am I! That’s why I wanted to get close to her—maybe there’re more lies.”

If I had false teeth, they would have fallen out of my mouth. ACB and I were on the same track. “How? What?”

ACB shrugged and shook her head. “We can’t have a fibber as our first Miss Salmon, and we can’t let her dishonestly win the prize money. But we don’t want to cast a shadow over the whole pageant by disqualifying her, so I think the judges have to make sure that Aileen Shubert doesn’t win first, second, or third place.”

While my friend was worried about Aileen disgracing the pageant, I was wondering if that’s all Aileen Shubert was really up to.

*   *   *

I heard a scream. One of the ear-piercing screams that meant someone’s life was in danger.

Ty appeared from somewhere. “Upstairs! Stay here, Trixie!”

I followed him anyway. All the girls were milling in the hall, looking scared, pointing to ACB’s room.

Ty drew his gun and kicked the door. The door didn’t move. He kicked it again. Again, the sturdy oak door didn’t budge.

I reached around him and twisted the handle. The door opened like I knew it would.

“None of the doors lock. I don’t know why,” I babbled.

“Get back!” he ordered me.

I followed him. ACB was standing in the middle of a mess, even more of a mess than usual. Her muumuus were slashed, the drawers in her plastic carts were out of the frame, and the contents were thrown on the floor.

Jewelry was everywhere. Her fascinators were slashed; so were her tote bags and purses. Even her flip-flops were pulled apart.

“Who hates me enough to do this?” she asked. “And where are my pageant notes?”

Ty shut the door and whispered, “It had to be an inside job. I’ve been watching this place. Trixie, check your room.”

Mine was a mess, too. Stuff everywhere, swept off the top of the dressers, drawers tossed on the floor. Even the bedding was pulled off the bed.

With my heart in my throat, I looked at Aunt Stella’s gown, praying that it wasn’t in tatters. It was still hanging on the back of the door to the bathroom, where I’d left it. Thank goodness nothing had happened to it. Nothing in the bathroom was disturbed.