Down Home and Deadly (5 page)

“Yep.” I gritted my own full set of teeth into some semblance of a smile and tapped my order pad with my pencil. “What can I get for you today?”

“I’ll have the meatloaf special. Gettin’ to be a habit of yours, idn’t it? Gettin’ involved with murder? I’m surprised you’re not out back helping the police look for the gun.”

His cronies laughed.

“Hush up, Grimmett,” Marge Templeton scolded from the booth across the way. “Jenna can’t help being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Grimmett” ducked his head, his weather
ed
face mottled with embarrassment. Apparently he hadn’t realized that Marge was nearby. Her late husband, Hank, had been my first “
wrong place at the wrong time
.” Even though I hadn’t
actually
found the newspaper editor’s body, I’d eventually solved his murder. Sort of. And almost gotten m
yself
and Carly killed in the process.

I gave Marge a grateful glance. We shared a bond of having been in a sticky situation together. I knew I could count on her to watch my back. She owned the paper now
,
and although it wasn’t common knowledge, she was also my boss. She and her niece, the new editor, were the only two people besides Carly and me who knew that I moonlighted as advice columnist, Dear Pru.

The other old
-
timers told me what they wanted to eat without incident. As I wove my way through the busy dining area with their orders, I admitted to myself that Grimmett was right about one thing
:
I’d much rather be out back with the police looking for the gun that killed J.D. But I had sense enough to know John would come unglued if I got anywhere near them.

“Ma’am! Ma’am!” A big-haired lady on the opposite side of the room waved her arm. “This isn’t what I ordered.”

I glanced around the busy dining area. Where was Debbie?

I made a quick detour to the woman’s table
,
and she gestured toward her plate. “I know you aren’t our waitress, but ours seems to have disappeared. I ordered a salad and chopped steak. This is meatloaf.”

I took the offending plate. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll be right back with your salad.”

“Thanks. I heard y’all talking about that guy that was killed here last night
.
Wasn’t he from here originally?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

She nodded to the mousy
-
looking woman across the table from her. “Didn’t your grandma say he grew up here?”

“Yes,” the woman said.

“I hadn’t heard that.” And as much as I wanted to hear more
,
I knew I needed to find Debbie before Carly lost customers because her wait staff was too slow. “I’ll just go get your order.”

I leaned over the counter into the kitchen to see if Debbie was in there. All I could see was orders piling up. I glanced over to the salad bar where
Marco
was dumping fresh lettuce into the huge stainless
steel bowl. “
Marco
, I think Debbie must be on break. Can you help me serve for a few minutes?”

For the next half hour, we worked frantically, sorting out orders and making corrections and apologies.

When the lunch crowd thinned slightly, I thanked
Marco
. “Can you handle things out here for a few minutes while I find Debbie?”

He nodded.

I looked in the kitchen and even opened the mop closet. But no Debbie. Finally
,
I went to the ladies’ room and peeked in. Empty. I started to let the door shut, but a muffled sobbing drew me back. “Debbie?”

Just a soft hiccup in answer.

“Debbie? Is that you?” I glanced under the stall and saw her scuffed white tennis shoes, still slightly speckled with the butternut paint from the remodel. “I know it’s you. You might as well talk to me.”

She blew her nose loudly
,
and in a few seconds, the stall door creaked open and she stepped out.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“This whole murder thing. I just feel bad about J.D. It’s so sad.” She bent over the sink and splashed cold water on her red
,
puffy face.

I met her gaze in the mirror. “It is. Do you have any idea who might have killed him?”

“No, of course not. I barely knew him.” Her voice quavered
,
and she fished her brush out of her purse and redid her messy bun. “But poor Lisa.”

“Yeah.” I thought again how lucky Lisa was to have Debbie for a friend. Most people in
Lake
View
probably wouldn’t have too much sympathy for the spoiled princess. “Do you know why he was here?”

She shrugged. “How would I know? Maybe he was coming to the grand opening.” Her voice broke. “But he didn’t make it.” She began sobbing again.

I patted her shoulder. “Debbie, why don’t you go ahead and go home?
Marco
and I can handle the rest of the lunch crowd.” It would be easier if we knew she was gone than if she kept disappearing to cry. I hoped Carly wouldn’t care
that
I was
sending her most seasoned waitress home during the busiest part of the day. “If you feel like it
,
you can come back in later.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Then maybe you should visit Lisa. I’m sure she’s having a hard time with this.”

She nodded. “I heard they made her go down to the station this morning and have fingerprints,” she whispered.

Her unique way of phrasing that procedure made me fight a smile. “Really? They think she killed him?”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think? They said it’s just a formality because she rode in his car a lot. So they can figure out what fingerprints might be there that aren’t supposed to be.”

I quickly backtracked. The last thing I wanted to do was add to the overworked rumor mill. “No, no, I’m sure she’s not a suspect. Eliminating fingerprints that belong there sounds right. And anyway, why would she kill her new boyfriend?”

Debbie’s eyes filled with tears again. “Relationships can be hard.”

“Yeah, I know. But even though ‘breaking up is hard to do
,’
don’t you think it would be harder to kill him?”

She pulled a tissue from the holder
on
the
counter
and loudly blew her nose again instead of answering. Should I have mentioned that was a rhetorical question?

I patted her on the shoulder. My mother and Carly were so much better than I was at sympathy and advice. Why did I always end up in these situations? “I’ll tell Carly that you’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“Thanks.” She gave a wan smile and left.

I hurried back to the dining room. From the corner of my eye, I saw
Harvey
directing a couple toward one of my tables. I grabbed two menus and headed over to take their orders. As I neared the table, I recognized
Seth’s partner,
Ricky
,
and
Tiffany Stanton,
the mayor’s daughter
.
Tiffany had
moved back to
Lake
View
only a few months ago to take a job as editor of her
aunt’s newspaper
,
and
Ricky hadn’t wasted any time in getting to know her. When the tall cop wasn’t on duty, you could always count on seeing them together.

Since
her parents,
Amelia and Byron
,
sent her to boarding school instead of Lake View High, I hadn’t known Tiffany well when we were growing up. But I’d always thought of her as the Anti-Amelia. She had pretty features, but it almost seemed like she did everything she could to hide them. Her naturally curly hair frizzed around her bare face
,
and she usually wore shapeless clothes or men
’
s jeans that did nothing to flatter her figure.

Today, even though she hadn’t changed a thing, she looked as radiant as a bride. “What’ll you have to drink?” My standard opening line.

“What are you having, Ricky?” She leaned toward him. “Sweet tea with lemon?”

He grinned. “You know me too well.”

She beamed at me. “I’ll have the same.” She waved her hand in the air
,
and I could tell she was showing off the huge rock on her engagement finger.

When I brought the drinks back, they thanked me.

I pulled out my order pad. “Congratulations on your engagement. Your ring is beautiful. Is the wedding soon?”

“Yes.” Tiffany flashed Ricky a coy look. “We don’t want a long engagement, do we, honey?”

He ducked his head. “The sooner the better.”

She scooted closer and kissed him on the cheek. “We’re hoping to get married next month. Although
.
 
.
 
.
” She pursed her lips as if she had tasted the lemon from her sweet tea. “
Mother
says she doesn’t see how we can possibly be ready in a month.”

I could understand that. My own wedding was scheduled for Christmas
,
and even though it was going to be small, I had a checklist that was quickly
looming
out of control.

“Speaking of your mother,” Ricky murmured and stood as Amelia and Byron
Stanton
walked toward us. I quickly grabbed two more menus while he pulled out Amelia’s chair for her to sit down.

I
took the mayor and
First Lady
’s drink order and hurried away. A few minutes later, as I carefully set the drinks on the table, I glanced at Tiffany. The change was amazing. Her arms were crossed defensively in front of her
,
and the radiance was gone. “I think you just don’t want me to get married.” She glared sullenly at her mother. “You’ve never really wanted me to be happy.”

Amelia glanced up at me and gave a nervous laugh. “Honey, of course, I want you to be happy. I just think you’re rushing this.” She looked to Byron as if for support. “We want you to have a wedding to remember and that takes some time to plan. You don’t want off
-
the
-
rack dresses for the bridesmaids, do you? And what about your gown?” I’d often thought Amelia was like a Barbie doll with no real feelings or emotions, but her distress was very real.

I took my pad and pen out of my apron. “Have y’all decided what you want to eat?” I asked in my most cheerful voice
,
then motioned Vanna-like toward the white dry
-
erase board on the wall. “These are today’s specials.”

Amelia ignored my motion and glanced down at the menu in her hand. “I’ll have the chef salad with blue cheese dressing on the side.” She looked at me over her menu. “Carly does make her own salad dressing, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, of course. I’m partial to her honey mustard, but the blue cheese is great, too.”

Tiffany didn’t look at the white board
,
either. Carly was going to fire me if I didn’t do a better job of promoting the already
-
made food.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries off the menu.” Tiffany smiled at Ricky. “That’s what you want
,
too
,
isn’t it, baby?”

“Sure is.” He patted her on the hand. “You always know just what I like.”

I saw Amelia’s jaw muscle jump as she gritted her teeth. Was her son-in-law-to-be needling her on purpose?

“And you, Mayor Stanton?”

“I’ll have the chicken fried steak and gravy, mashed potatoes
,
and fried okra.”

Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Finally
,
someone who was ordering one of the specials. Maybe my job was safe for another day.

Later
,
when I set the serving tray beside their table and began unloading it
,
they were still discussing the upcoming nuptials.

“We do have an image to uphold, dear.” Amelia was again speaking through gritted teeth. She was going to need dental work if she kept this up. “We can’t just throw
something together
, especially if your dad is going to run for the Senate.” She lowered her voice on the last three words.

Debbie had warned me that as a waitress I would hear lots of personal business and gossip. “We’re like the furniture,” she’d said. And it looked like she was right.

I set their plates in front of them and headed back to pick up an order for another table. I got busy with my other tables but stopped back by to see if they needed refills.

Ricky pushed to his feet just as I approached. “I’m going to go out and see if I can help the guys,” he said as he threw a couple of ones on the table and handed a twenty to Tiffany. “Do you mind handling our bill, honey?”