Last Diner Standing, page 13
“It’s a date. Speaking of dates, how was yours with Tariq?”
“He’s kind of awesome.”
“Is he a good kisser?”
“None of your beeswax.”
“That good, huh?”
Before we opened, I went to the office and roused Dillon from his slumber behind the desk. “Get to work, kid, before I sic Roxy on you.”
Grumbling, he stood and ambled to the dining room. “This job is stressing me out.”
As soon as I flipped the open sign, Roxy and I hustled. At eight, in the middle of a rush on eggnog French toast, a very tall man in his sixties with a potbelly and skinny legs thundered into the diner. With his thick mane of silver hair, coupled with his brown suede coat and western shirt, he had the look of a used car salesman.
Rudy Jorgenson—Ma’s nemesis. The theme song from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly ran through my head.
He pointed at me. “I want to talk to Ma.”
Customers stopped eating and stared at him. There was an anxiety to the silence. We all held our collective breaths. In the corner, Roxy, her blue eyes as wide and round as marbles, stopped chomping her gum.
I kept my gaze trained on him, but kicked the kitchen door open with the heel my foot. “Ma,” I called over my shoulder, “trouble’s done come to town.” I stepped aside so the swinging door wouldn’t hit me in the ass as Ma walked out of the kitchen.
When she saw him, she placed her hand on one hip and sneered. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Come to take your medicine like a man, Rudy?”
He took two steps forward and Ma mirrored him, until they stood a foot apart.
“You’re trying to horn in on my lunch business.” He nodded at me. “That little gal was handing out flyers in my parking lot.”
I slowly stepped from behind the counter so I could be on hand in case violence broke out. Not that I thought Rudy couldn’t fend for himself, but I didn’t think he’d fight back against a seventy-nine-year-old woman.
Ma smirked. “You bet she did. And she’s going to do it again.”
The hell I was.
He bared his clenched teeth. “You’re going to tick me off, Ma. And I don’t think you’re ready for the fallout.”
“Get the little girl a tissue, toots. I think he’s going to cry,” Ma said.
Rudy pushed back the edges of his coat and placed his hands on his hips. “Don’t push me.”
“I’m going to push you right out of business. You’re nothing but a snake, trying to steal away my breakfast customers. That was a mistake, sonny.”
“Your chicken special was a mistake, old woman.”
She squinted her eyes at the insult, causing her wrinkles to deepen. “You thought you could go against Ma Ferguson? You fool. I’m going to hang your ass out to dry. I own breakfast in this town.”
Oh dear. I made a move to step between them. “I think there’s enough room in this town for Ma’s and Rudy’s breakfast. There’s no need for name calling.”
She fixed her slightly mad eyes on me. “You going against me, toots?”
I backed away. “No, not at all.”
Rudy turned his back on Ma. “Listen up everyone, it’s buy one get one free on unlimited pancakes at Rudy’s Roundup Restaurant.” He whipped around and speared Ma with his glance. “And we have fruit toppings.”
She gasped. “Well, it’s buy one lunch special get two free here at Ma’s Diner. And no one can touch my chicken specials. Certainly not someone who squirts ketchup on noodles and calls it spaghetti.”
Rudy turned purple. “Choke on my dust, woman.” And he stormed out of the diner, leaving the cold air swirling around our feet.
Ma glanced over at me. “Saddle up, toots. I have a feeling lunch is going to be hopping.” Then she marched into the kitchen.
My gaze found Roxy’s. She rolled her eyes and resumed chomping.
Chapter 16
We usually hit a lull at ten, but business was brisk this morning. Jorge helped us bus since Dillon was on chicken suit duty. At ten-thirty, Dane Harker walked in. Incredibly handsome, he looked like a fish out of water with his Burberry coat and expensive suit. He ran a hand over his short, dark hair as he wiped his feet on the mat. He stepped up to the counter where I’d just served a plate of eggs to an old timer.
“Can we talk?” he asked in a low voice.
“Sure, give me a sec.” I topped off Bill’s coffee cup with a smile before leading Dane into the office.
I stuck my hands in my back pockets. “Sorry I don’t have a lot of time, we’re crazy busy. Do you have news about Janelle’s case?”
“No, sorry. I just wanted to let you know Penn’s Cigar Bar caught fire last night. There’s talk of arson.”
I tried to look surprised. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, fortunately. But since Sullivan owns it, I thought you’d like a heads up.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you still in contact with him?” he asked.
I shrugged. “He called to check on me.”
His light blue eyes searched mine. “The police want to question him. He hasn’t been seen for a couple of days. His employees don’t know where he is. It looks suspicious.”
Not only did Sullivan have someone after him, now the police wanted him, too. “How do you know all this?”
“There was a breakfast fundraiser this morning. The police chief, Martin Mathers, was the guest speaker. There was lots of talk about the fire. Anyway, I just thought you’d want to know.”
“What about Janelle’s situation? There are other suspects in Sheik’s attack. Lots of suspects. He had ex-girlfriends with jealous husbands. He owed money to everyone.”
He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I don’t want to see her go to jail for something she didn’t do, either. Shoot me a list of your suspects. And please, be careful?”
I thought it was a little lame I had to do his legwork for him, but if it helped Janelle, it was worth it.
Throughout the day, Roxy, Jorge, and I worked at a furious pace until our new closing time. By three o’clock, I was hungry, achy, and bitchy. Roxy was worse.
“I hate this. Do you know how much I made in tips today? Less than yesterday and I worked twice as hard.” She grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter.
I stuffed sugar and artificial sweetener packets into white caddies at each table. “I know.”
Dillon flapped into the diner. “I’m exhausted, man.”
“Yes, I’m sure flashing your chicken butt and flipping people off was very draining,” I said.
Roxy snort laughed.
Before we left, I yelled at Ma and the boys through the kitchen door. “See you tomorrow.”
Ray glanced up at me, his brow so furrowed I couldn’t see his eyes. Jorge threw me a tired wave. Ma sat on a tall stool next to a stainless-steel countertop, with her chin resting on her palm, and said nothing. This lunch thing was wearing her out. But she was hardheaded and wouldn’t give in until she was ready.
Roxy and I hopped in the car and sped over to Janelle’s. The kids were already home from school, but Sondra was there to babysit. Damon looked a lot better, but was quiet—an unusual state for him. Sherise and Sondra’s boys were glued to the TV.
In Janelle’s car, I sank into the front seat and Roxy slid in the back. She slipped on a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and stared out the window.
“How are you holding up, Janelle?” I asked.
“Eh. Asshat’s still in a coma. They’re not sure if he’s going to come out of it. I wished his ass dead too many times to count, but now that he’s almost there, I feel bad.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “And we’re going to find out who did this.” I gave her the rundown on the strip club scuttlebutt from the night before. Minus anything pertaining to Sullivan.
“So no news on Chicken Licker?”
“Nope, not yet. I stopped by her place, but no answer.”
“Maybe we should head over to her house after we see LD,” Janelle said.
I glanced at Roxy in the backseat and raised my brows. “Not sure if that’s a good idea, Janelle. You and Chicken Licker in the same room?”
Roxy leaned forward. “We don’t want you to get arrested. Again.”
As we drove downtown, I tried to fit all the pieces into the puzzle. Crystal, Marcus, Clay, Stuart. These were my key players. I didn’t think Vi or Brenda had anything to do with bashing Asshat. I still wanted to eliminate Brenda’s husband as a suspect, and they all had motive, but I was convinced it had to do with the missing money. And Sullivan.
As we sat in early rush hour traffic, my phone rang. “Hello.”
“Is this Jane?” asked a female voice I didn’t recognize. One that sounded like it had smoked a pack a day since the first grade.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“This is Diane Myer. Tracy gave me your number, said you were interested in information on Crystal Waters.”
After a second, I put it together. Diane was the stripper with the kid, the one who lost a fiancé to Crystal. “Hey, Diane. I was wondering if I could meet up with you, buy you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, I work tonight, but maybe we could meet around one tomorrow? How about McDonald’s so my kid can play while we talk?”
I hung up and looked at Janelle. “Another woman whose man fell victim to Crystal’s open door vagina policy. I have to meet her at one o’clock tomorrow.”
Roxy popped her head between us. “How you going to do that? I can’t serve lunch by myself.”
I batted my eyelashes at Janelle. “Pretty please?”
“Shit, I don’t know how to wait tables.”
Roxy laughed. “If Rose can do it, anybody can.”
I slapped the top of her head before she slid back in her seat. “I shouldn’t be gone that long.”
“I’ll try. It’s the least I can do,” Janelle said.
We exited the freeway and drove through the downtown business district toward LD’s garage. Buildings with colorfully graffitied initials and cars that could double as tanks lined the streets. Groups of kids in their teens, some in coats, some wearing nothing but baggy jeans and hoodies, huddled together on street corners. Then out of nowhere, suddenly Janelle stomped on the brake, causing me to slam forward and my seatbelt to seize up.
“What the hell?” Roxy asked.
Janelle poked her driver’s side window with a yellow fingernail. “That bitch. See that hot pink Camaro?”
I looked where Janelle pointed half way up a side street. “It’s hard to miss. Looks like Barbie’s dream car.”
“That’s Chicken Licker’s car.” She wrenched the wheel to the right and rolled slowly toward the Camaro.
The car sat in front of a three-story brick building. The windows had been busted out and boarded up, the front door chained with a padlock.
“What’s she doing down here?” I asked.
“Think she’s squatting somewhere?” Roxy asked, peering up at the abandoned building.
Throwing her car into park, Janelle yanked her keys from the ignition. She got out and slammed the door behind her.
Roxy and I jumped out, too.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I said.
Janelle slowly circled the car. When she got to the driver’s side, she leaned down and peered through the window, angling her head to get a good look at the interior.
“Anything in the car?” Roxy asked.
“Empty Red Bull cans and cigarette cartons,” Janelle said. Then she held up her key and gouged it into the door.
“Janelle, stop. This is a bad idea,” I said.
“I know she hit Asshat. And now I’m taking the fall.”
I glanced around but saw no signs of life. At least there were no witnesses. The afternoon light waned and a blast of freezing wind whipped up trash and debris, and left me chilled to the bone.
Janelle continued her trip around the car, leaving deep grooves in the hot pink paint. The sound of metal scraping against metal made my teeth hurt.
Why would Crystal leave her Camaro in the middle of this abandoned neighborhood? It was obviously her baby. She even had pink rims to match the car. Something was wrong.
Roxy pulled a screwdriver out of her bag. “Let’s see what’s in the trunk. Maybe she’s got the money stashed in here.” She stuck the end of the screwdriver into the trunk lock and wiggled it around until the lid popped open. “Fuck,” she whispered.
A sense of dread washed over me. I slowly walked toward her and glanced into the trunk.
Crystal Waters, aka Chicken Licker, was dead.
Chapter 17
The trunk light cast a gray pallor onto Crystal’s artificially tanned skin. Her long dark hair, matted with blood, fanned out behind her.
I felt sick and lightheaded. I heard Janelle and Roxy talking, but I couldn’t stop staring at Crystal. Their voices seemed far away as if I were underwater. I swayed a bit. I’d seen this before. My psycho stalker. His head was bashed in like that. I’d been the one to do it.
Janelle reached out her gloved hand and shut the trunk lid. “We got to get out of here.”
I still didn’t move. Poor Crystal.
“Rose, let’s go,” Roxy tugged on my sleeve, but I stood like a wobbly statue. My knees trembled, yet I didn’t move from my spot on the pavement.
Janelle grabbed my other arm and they dragged me to the car. None of us said anything on the ride home. I felt shocky, nauseous.
Finally, as we neared Janelle’s street, Roxy broke the silence. “What now?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“We didn’t see anything. Nothin’,” Janelle said. “Like it never happened.”
“You going to tell Sullivan?” Roxy asked me. She leaned forward and said to Janelle, “He’s hiding in Axton’s basement.”
Something snapped inside me. “What the hell part of discreet don’t you get?” I lashed out, not recognizing my own voice. I pressed my fingers over my eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Roxy. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. This was my issue, not hers. She shouldn’t have told Janelle, but I didn’t have to snap like a bitch because of it. I was still dealing with the fallout from what had happened over six weeks ago, and seeing Crystal’s lifeless body dredged it all up again. The blood. So much blood.
Janelle shot me a glance. “What’s Sullivan doing hiding out with Ax?”
“Someone hired a hit on Sullivan. For his safety, no one can know where he is,” I said.
“Hey, that man got my ass out of jail. My lips are sealed. You got that?” She stared at Roxy in the rearview mirror.
“Got it. Jeez, I knew Janelle would be a locked box. It’s not like I’m going to go around shouting it from the rooftops.”
I tried to think, but all I could see was Crystal’s unblinking eyes. Dead eyes.
When Janelle pulled into her driveway, she sat in the dark, gripping the steering wheel. None of us made a move to get out of the car.
After a minute, she glanced at me. “I can’t go to prison. They’re going to try and nail Chicken Licker’s death on me, too. I need to take my kids and get out of here. Go to Mexico or something.”
I shoved down the churning mass of guilt and pain and shock I felt, to concentrate on Janelle and her more immediate problems. “I’m doing everything I can to find out who did this. I talked to Dane today. I’m going to give him a list of suspects. If you run now, you’ll look guilty. Please don’t do anything rash.” I pictured an armed manhunt, hovering helicopters, Janelle’s mug shot plastered all over the news.
Tears filled her eyes and she nodded. “I’ll hold on for now. But I’m not making any promises.”
I shifted in my seat. “I’ll go talk to that dancer tomorrow afternoon, then after I get off work, I’ll look for Marcus. The last time you guys saw Crystal alive, she was with him.”
“I can’t believe Marcus would do something like that,” Janelle said.
“He might if he thought he could keep all the money for himself,” Roxy said.
I patted Janelle’s hand. “Come to the diner at twelve tomorrow and I’ll walk you through the lunch service. You’ll be fine.”
Roxy and I climbed out of Janelle’s Cruiser and into Ax’s Honda.
“I agree with Janelle,” she said. “Her kids need her. If she has to flee to Mexico, I say we help her.”
Frowning, I shook my head. “What if she gets caught? She’s not a criminal mastermind.”
“Sullivan is. He could help.”
I backed out of the drive and sped off toward Apple Tree Boulevard. “No, Sullivan has his own problems. The hit, remember?”
I pulled into Walmart and together we shopped for what one man, one giant, one stoner, and one Axton might like to eat. Basically a lot of red meat and munchies.
I was on autopilot as I grabbed blankets, pillows, sheets, towels and toiletries. Flashes of Crystal shot through my brain. I could tell Roxy was freaked out, too. She remained silent as we moved through the aisles. Christmas merchandise, Santa figurines, and bright shiny decorations seemed inappropriate after what we’d just seen.
When Roxy and I got to Axton’s house, we found him in the middle of a video game. Stoner Joe sat zoned out next to him on the corduroy couch, staring at the wall, his eyes glassy.
Roxy sat down next to Ax and I walked with the groceries into the kitchen. I was shocked to see Henry standing over the stove, wearing an apron that looked like a Star Trek Next Generation uniform. After flipping four grilled cheese sandwiches, he glanced up.
I set the bags on the kitchen table. “Where is he?”
“Downstairs. He’s taking care of business so he may not want to be disturbed.”
I walked closer and leaned against the counter next to him. “Who do you think turned on Sullivan? Had to be one of your fellow employees.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Could be one of the bartenders or waitstaff. One of the card dealers or croupiers.”
“Basically anyone in the organization, then?” That didn’t narrow anything down. “What’s your gut say?”
