Killer Run (21 page)

As the soup thawed in the microwave, I made a final list of what I needed to buy for the new room. I didn't have a lot of sleepover guests, besides my aunt, but when I did, I'd be ready for them.

By the time we'd finished our green salad with grilled chicken slices and a tomato bisque soup, the clock showed two-oh-five. I grabbed the phone and hit redial. “Third time's a charm,” I whispered as the phone rang. But I'd spoken too soon. I got the answering machine again. This time I left a message, leaving both my name and the store name. At least he might think it was a call on a possible job, which could get our phone call returned faster. My aunt sank into the chair.

“I'm beat. I'm heading back to the apartment and soaking in a tub filled with hot water and bubbles. I might even open a bottle of wine and have cheese and crackers for dinner.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Are you going to spend the last few hours of your vacation relaxing? Or do you have another project?”

“I'm done. Well, except for laundry. I think I'm going to curl up on the couch and read until my stomach growls. Thanks for coming by today.” I walked her toward the door.

“You sound like you really mean that.” My aunt smiled softly and patted my hair. “I like spending time with you.”

As she walked out the door, my phone rang.

A
my's voice boomed through the speaker. “Girl, where are you? I thought we were meeting at Lille's for a late lunch.”

I squeezed my eyes together. My aunt waved and walked out to her car. “I guess you won't be relaxing after all.”

“Hey, I totally forgot. I'll be there in ten.” I looked down at my dirty shorts and shirt. I'd have to change and I really should shower. “Make it fifteen.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I've already snagged us a booth, but the place is hopping and Carrie keeps asking if I'd rather sit at the counter.”

“I'll hurry.” I closed the door and ran upstairs, discarding clothes as I ran. I pulled my hair back with a clip and jumped in the shower to lather up and rinse off. My hair would have to be okay the way it was. When I toweled off, I glanced through what was clean and left in my dresser. I had a choice between a Halloween bad witch costume and a pair of old capris and a Heart tank I'd gotten at a concert too many years ago to remember.

I hurried Emma out to the yard, hoping coyotes didn't really hang out during the day, and had to stop and fill her water and food dishes before I left. I slipped on a pair of walking shoes and locked up the house. I glanced at my phone. Amy had called eight minutes ago. If I walked fast, I might even make the fifteen I'd promised.

It was twenty, and when I walked in, the diner was buzzing. Every table was crowded, mostly with people I didn't know. The counter even had most of the stools taken. I glanced around the crowd and saw Amy waving toward me. Lille was standing in front of the booth. When she turned around to see who Amy was waving at, her face hardened.

“I should have known she was waiting for you. Do you realize the faster I can turn a table here, the more people I can serve? Or did that nugget of information never make it into your fancy law degree?” Lille snarled.

“Sorry. My fault. I didn't remember about our date.” I quickly looked at the menu. Since I'd just eaten, most of this meal would be put into a to-go box for dinner. “How about the fried chicken dinner?”

“Do I look like your server? I'll let Carrie know you're ready, finally.” Lille turned toward the kitchen, then spun back around. “And tell your boyfriend to leave Mick alone. Just because he rides a bike doesn't make him a criminal.”

“Greg interviewed your boyfriend?” I set the menu down and rapid-fired my questions. “Do you know why? Was it about Sandra's murder?”

“Like I'm going to tell you anything?” Lille sneered. “But no, Miss Have-to-Know-It-All, it wasn't about the murder. Of course, you'd love that. You're always trying to send my guys to jail, aren't you?”

“Only if they deserve it.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and as I slapped my hand over my mouth, Lille stepped closer, fire in her eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.”

“Of course you did. I'm watching you. Everyone might think you're sweet and innocent, but I know better.” This time she did leave the table.

“Boy, that was risky. You know she's kicked people out of here for life just because she got mad at them, right?” Amy's eyes were wide and she looked a little scared.

“Then we'd just have to eat up the highway at Mel's,” I muttered, looking through the menu to see what I wanted for dinner. Not that I wouldn't end up ordering the chicken, I just wanted to check out my options now that I had a little time.

Amy's nose curled. “I hate that place. It smells like cigarette smoke.”

“No one's smoked in there in years.” Mel's used to be a biker hangout on the coastal highway, but when the old man Mel had died, his daughter had reopened as a sandwich shop. The bikers, used to heavier food at cheaper prices, had moved down the highway to a new bar and grill.

Amy pushed a lock of hair back behind her ears. “I don't care, it still reeks.”

Carrie stopped by our table, her grin wide. “You two know how to cheat death, that's all I got to say.”

“She still mad?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Honey, she's going to be spitting nails every time your name is mentioned for months now.” Carrie positioned her pen to the order pad. “So, what can I get you for your last meal?”

Amy raised her eyebrows in an
I told you so
gesture.

“Oh man, don't tell me we got banned.” I peeked around Carrie at the hostess station where Lille stood, glaring our way.

Carrie chuckled. “Nah, I'm just messing with you. What can I get started before she really does ban you for taking too much of my time.” A bell sounded in the kitchen. “I've got food up.”

We gave her our orders and then settled back into the booth. “You were almost on my bad list for the year.” Amy pulled out her phone. “Along with the mayor, who's been riding my butt about some report we have to get done for the council meeting. Now, mind you, they don't meet for almost three weeks, but Marvin wants this report compiled and on his desk by Friday. The man is impossible.”

“Maybe it will take him that long to understand what you said in the report.”

Amy giggled. “You're probably spot-on there. So, how has your vacation been? I thought I might hear from you yesterday.”

I explained the remodeling fiasco, along with Adam's kind of kidnapping or attack I'd suffered on Saturday. I finished the week's report with one additional line: “And then Aunt Jackie's in a mood, so we've kind of been investigating Sandra's murder.”

Amy shook her head. “Seriously? You were attacked and you're complaining about stripping a bed frame? Did he hurt you? What did he want?”

“Beats me. For some reason, he thought Sandra had given me something that would prove who he really was. I tried to tell him I'd only met the chick once.” I sipped on my iced tea. “Besides, stripping that bed frame was a real pain.”

“You are something else. No wonder Greg worries about you.” Amy read a text on her phone and then texted a short answer back. “I wonder if Sandra called you something else, instead of using your name. Like my friend from South Cove. Maybe that's why he thought it was you.”

I nodded to the phone. “You need to go?” I didn't want her to get in trouble with her boss. My mind drifted to her words.
My friend from South Cove.

“No way. I had to take a late lunch anyway, Marvin can just cool his jets.” Amy picked up her milk shake. “Besides, this is the first shake I've had in two weeks. I'm not letting a report get in the way of enjoying one of Lille's shakes. I swear, she makes the best shakes in fifty miles.”

I stared at Amy. Could it be that easy?

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don't agree? Whose shakes are better?”

I turned and looked at Lille still at the hostess stand talking to a waiting couple. “No, I mean, yes, I agree with the shake thing. But Amy, what if Lille was the friend?”

“I don't think Lille has any friends,” Amy quipped. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

“Adam. Maybe Sandra said something to make him think that I had the proof because of the coffee shop, but really, it was Lille at the diner? We're the only two places in town that serve food. I'm sure Sandra didn't mean to say anything that would lead him to Lille, so maybe just a funny clue, one she thought he'd never figure out.” My mind was racing now. “Aunt Jackie and I already found a connection between Promote Your Event and Diamond Lille's. Maybe the real connection isn't between the two businesses, but the two owners.”

“Which is why he'd be asked to vandalize Harrold's shop.” Amy tapped her lips with one finger. “So, how do we know if Lille and Sandra were friends?”

“We could wait for the funeral and see if Lille shows up, but who knows when the body will be released to the family?” I looked at the food in front of Amy that had just been delivered. “Or . . .”

Amy looked horror-stricken. “She's already mad at us. Now you want to ask her if she was friends with someone who may have ordered The Train Station's vandalism?”

I considered her words. “It does sound bad, worded like that.” I took a bite of my clam fettuccini. “But, yeah, that's what I'm planning.”

“Well, at least let me enjoy my last Diamond Lille's Monster Burger before you torpedo our ability to eat here.”

We finished our meal in silence. I picked at my pasta, running the idea through my head. If Lille was Sandra's friend, she would have known about the plan to attack Harrold. But she'd seemed as upset for the man as a good neighbor should have been the day we talked. Unless Sandra was acting on her own. Which would keep Lille out of the problem if Sandra had been found out.

I still wasn't sure exactly how I was going to get the information out of Lille by the time we'd finished the meal and I had my to-go box all packed.

“Maybe she won't be mad at me if I'm not around when you ask.” Amy scooted out in front of me, hugging me quickly.

“Chicken,” I called after her as she wove her way through the tables. I left a tip for Carrie on the table and headed straight to Lille.

When I arrived at the front, she looked up and then returned to staring at the waitress station board. “What do you want now?”

“I wanted to ask you if you knew Sandra Ashford?” When Lille didn't respond or look up, I continued, “She ran Promote Your Event with her husband, Michael?”

“Michael didn't do anything at that business except for show up every day. And he only did that because Sandra drove the car.” Lille studied me. “I don't know that it's any of your business, but Sandra and I went to school together. We've been friends for twenty years.”

I didn't move, I didn't even breathe. This was the connection. I tried to think of a way to ask about the Ashfords' marriage when Lille spoke again, this time her words a little softer.

“Sandra was amazing. She grew that business from nothing to what it is today. She'd signed papers to sell it for over a million dollars. Not that she lived to see any of that money.” The look in Lille's eyes was distant. “She could have made a whole new start.”

“Was she leaving Michael?”

Now Lille stared at me like I was a complete idiot. “Why would she take that cheater along with her? He'd just find another floozy in the next town. She was finally going to be rid of that loser.”

Which again pointed the finger to Michael as the killer.
My thoughts raced as I wondered if Greg knew about the affair. I could guess who had been in Michael's sights last: Rachel Fleur, our travel agent. A voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Two of my favorite restaurant owners standing in front of me. Don't tell me you're working in cahoots to try to get me to change my mind.” Homer Bell stood next to me, holding up his hands in a defensive move. “Don't kill me, but I've already signed the contract with the other buyer. In fact, that's why I'm here. I read the write-up in yesterday's paper and thought this would be a great place for me to celebrate.”

“You sold the truck?” Lille and I both spoke at once.

Homer had the good sense to back up a few steps. “I would have called you later. I didn't actually expect to run into both of you so quickly.” He adjusted his T-shirt, which was riding up and showing a bit of his belly over the jeans he wore. “I couldn't pass up the deal. Cash offer and a lot more than either one of you were offering.”

“You said I had time to research the market.” I didn't want to be the one to tell my aunt we had lost the option of buying the truck. Maybe I could find another one to purchase before she found out.

He shrugged. “I guess I forgot about saying that.”

Lille poked him in the chest. “You told me you'd let me rebid if someone offered more. If I had known, I would have purchased it the day we talked.”

“Ladies, it's water under the bridge now.” He nodded to the dining room. “Can I get a table?”

“No.” Lille pointed to a sign on the wall. “The sign says I can refuse service to anyone, and I'm going to do that. Get out of my diner and don't come back.”

I bit my lip, trying not to smile, but man, Lille had him on the ropes. I was mad at him, don't get me wrong, but Lille was steaming.

“But Lille, can't we just shake hands and be friends?” Homer held out a hand. I watched, just in case I had to rush him to the hospital once Lille bit it off.

“You need some help leaving?” She called back to the kitchen, “Sam, come out here and escort our guest out, please.”

Sam, the cook for the shift, must have been six-five and a good two hundred fifty pounds or so. Any way you looked at it, the man wasn't tiny. He took off his apron and looked around. “Who do I need to kick out?”

Homer held up his hands and backed out of the doorway. Lille jerked her head back into the kitchen, and Sam grabbed his apron and disappeared with the grace of a retreating troll.

Lille stared at me. “You're still here?”

I thought about asking Lille whom Michael had been sleeping with, for about 1.2 seconds, then I decided to leave with my dining privileges intact. Besides, I had to go break the news to Aunt Jackie. “Not anymore.” I weaved through the line waiting to be seated and disappeared.

I lucked out when I arrived at the apartment. Aunt Jackie wasn't home. I dialed her cell and when no one answered, left a voice mail. “Hey, call me. I've got some news on the food truck.”

I left it at that, hoping she wouldn't think it was good news. Then I decided to stop in to see Greg.