Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death: A Comfort Food Mystery (16 page)

Unable to keep a straight face, I said to Ty, “I’m going to see if ACB is okay. She has been angsting over her emcee duties since her script was stolen.”

“ACB just slipped offstage to change into her next muumuu. Do you want me to go stand outside the door? Or should I barge right in as everyone is changing?” he asked.

“I’ll take over now and check on her.”

“Bless you.”

I stopped at the buffet table and grabbed a snickerdoodle cookie. It was fabulous, if I do say so myself.

Backstage, I looked for ACB. She wasn’t in her dressing room. She wasn’t in the ladies’ room.

I moved a curtain to see if I had missed her, and saw the salmon swimming upstage as fishing rods
tempted them. I counted. There were eleven. One girl was missing.

Where was Aileen? And where was Antoinette Chloe?

Oh, crap!

I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but both Chad and Toxic Waste were sitting in the audience. Then again, Aileen was supposedly in rehearsal. Perhaps she was somewhere backstage where I couldn’t see her.

Just as everyone was changing into their evening gowns, Janice, ACB’s lawyer, came around the corner along with Shaun Williamson, the bail bondsman and florist. He was carrying buckets of flowers.

He nodded at me. “Where should I put these?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Antoinette Chloe.”

“Where do I find her?” Shaun asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m looking for her, too,” I said.

Janice, ACB’s lawyer, put her arm around my shoulder. “I’m here to do my volunteering, but I need to talk to Antoinette Chloe first. It’s about her next court date.”

“Uh, when I find her, I’ll send her to you both.”

“You mean you can’t find her?” Shaun asked with a greedy gleam in his eyes. “I can picture myself owning the point now. I’ll use one of the cottages for my floral shop. No. I’ll put up another building right on Route 3. How much road frontage do you have?”

“Knock it off, Shaun,” Janice said.

“Yeah, knock it off,” I echoed.

I cupped my hands over my mouth. “Anyone see Antoinette Chloe?” I yelled to everyone backstage.

“I saw her go outside with Aileen. They were huddled together about something,” said Pam, one of the pageant committee members.

“Thanks, Pam.”

I ran outside looking for ACB and called her cell phone. No answer. She always answered. She’d answer today’s calls for sure. They’d be all about the pageant. Then I noticed a seashell on the ground beside some car tracks. She had to have gotten into Aileen’s car. But why?

I hurried to my car. I started it and called her again. Nothing. Where would they have gone?

I drove to ACB’s multicolored Victorian near downtown Sandy Harbor, thinking maybe she’d forgotten something there that she needed for her outfit change. I rang and knocked, but everything was dark. She wasn’t there.

I raced back to my car. Now what?

I was near Nick’s, so I turned my car toward his house. It was the only other place I thought they would go.

My heart was pounding in my ears, and I took a couple of deep breaths as I parked my car a couple of doors down.

A dim light peeked out from under the garage door. As quietly as I could, I snuck over to the side door and opened it a crack.

Aileen was holding a fish filleting knife on Antoinette Chloe!

ACB’s hands and ankles were tied with black
electrical tape, and she was attached to Nick’s motorcycle by a boat rope. She looked uncomfortable sitting on the cement floor with her legs out in front of her. Her sequined flip-flops were barely hanging on to her toes. She did have on her faux-leopard cape, so at least that kept some of the cold off her.

I had to admit that Aileen looked lovely in her evening gown. It was white and fluffy and the Swarovski crystals shimmered in the light. She could have won the competition hands down, but I digress. . . .

I reached for my cell phone to call Ty, but I was too little, too late. Aileen knew I was there.

She hurled herself at me, and I fell to the cement floor. As much as I squirmed to get away from her, she clung to me like plastic wrap.

Aileen and I struggled for the knife.

She won.

“Aileen, you’re going to ruin your beautiful evening gown for the competition. There’s grease all over the floor,” I said from my spot on the cement.

She stood over me. “Get up, Trixie.”

It took me a while, but I got up and faced the point of Aileen’s fillet knife.

Aileen shook her head and got a strange look on her face. She rubbed her right temple.

“Look at how beautiful I am! How could Nick fall for a frump like her? I left Billy for Nick. And then Nick left me. I’m a McDermott. No one does that to a McDermott!”

ACB grunted. “So . . . you’re really Leslie
McDermott? I knew you lied on your Miss Salmon application. And I’m not a frump. I’m colorful.”

I saw the hurt look on my friend’s face and couldn’t resist throwing a zinger at Leslie.

“Um . . . Leslie, why do you think that Nick skipped out on your wedding?” I asked.

I felt the prick of her knife on my neck. Okay. Bad timing. When would I ever learn to shut up?

“Leslie, put the knife down and go practice for the pageant. That gown looks like Donna Karan. Am I right?” I asked.

“It’s vintage Dior,” ACB said from the floor. “And white is a great color on you—very angelic.”

“Thank you. Why . . . how . . . how do you know that it’s Dior?” Leslie asked.

“I studied design in Paris and in New York City,” ACB said.

“Impossible! Look how you dress . . . and your makeup is a disaster!”

“I like being vibrant,” ACB said.

“You mean that you like being gaudy,” Leslie said.

“Colorful,” I said, still sticking up for my friend.

“Leslie, you set me up!” ACB suddenly shouted. “You scattered enough of my things all over my land to make it look like a yard sale. And how dare you enter my house and do something like that, especially after how nicely I’ve treated you!”

“Your house looks like a Victorian garbage heap. So did your room at Trixie’s house. What a dump.”

“I thought you couldn’t find a place to stay,” Antoinette Chloe pointed out. “You whined enough to me about the lack of accommodations. So,
where were you staying when you killed my Nick?”

“The Wishing Well Campgrounds. They had an immediate vacancy in a cottage after someone got sick at their nighttime campfire and had to move to the hospital.” She tossed her hair and crossed her arms, looking smug. “Something about rat poison in his beer.”

My stomach turned. “How can you hurt someone like that?”

“It’s for the greater good.
My
greater good. I wanted to get back with Nick, but he only had eyes for . . . her!” She held the fillet knife at waist level, ready to lash out . . . at ACB.

“Nick loved me,” ACB said. “And I loved him. He was good to me at one of the worst times in my life, and I will always love him for it.”

I held my breath. Not a good thing to say when Leslie was ready to make a shish kebab out of her.

“I loved Nick, too. He was a great kisser and he was fabulous in bed,” Leslie said.

“Absolutely!” ACB laughed. “Nick sure was outstanding. Sal was good, but Nick . . . wow!”

Leslie chuckled. “You know what? I like you, Antoinette. I wish that I didn’t have to kill you. But that’s what I’m going to do. I entered Miss Salmon and came here to get back with Nick. After he cast me aside like yesterday’s newspaper once again, I couldn’t handle it, so he had to go. If I couldn’t have him, then no one would. But it was actually Antoinette that I came here to kill.”

“You don’t have to kill her,” I said. “Just put down the knife.”

“Leslie, how did you get Nick out on my land?” ACB shifted on the cement.

I wished she’d shut up. Anything could trigger Leslie into filleting the both of us like a fish.

She waved the knife in the air. “Nick was surprised to see me, and at first he wouldn’t even give me the time of day. But I convinced him that I just wanted to drive and talk for a while, and he said okay. Then I told him that I wanted to go for a walk. I knew that Antoinette owned that land. I figured that killing Nick on her land would put another nail in her coffin.”

“Then you planted everything at the scene?” I asked.

“It was a piece of cake. Antoinette’s house is always unlocked—just like yours, Trixie—so it was easy to steal a knife from your basement. My intention was to trick the cops into thinking you were in cahoots with her, but it made an excellent weapon.” She laughed. “You small-townies really should lock your doors, huh?”

I was still waiting for a chance to catch Leslie off guard.

Sheesh! It might help if I could take out my phone and call Ty. . . .

Oh, but I could! I didn’t need to see the screen to call him from my phone! I reached into my pocket and pressed the number one on my phone’s keypad to speed-dial Ty without Leslie seeing me. Why on earth didn’t I think of that before?

I heard Ty answer.

“What’s that noise?” Leslie asked, thrusting the knife under my nose.

“That’s my stomach growling, Leslie. I’m hungry,” I said loudly. Maybe Ty could hear me. “Uh, Leslie, can we get out of Nick’s garage, and can you put that knife down before you kill us like you killed Nick?”

I looked at Leslie and now she had crazy eyes. She was walking in circles around ACB and mumbling to herself. “Look at how beautiful I am!” She twirled in her evening gown. “How could Nick leave me at the altar for someone like you, Antoinette?”

“Leslie, my name is Antoinette
Chloe
.”

Sheesh. ACB was correcting a murderer about her name?

“I still can’t understand how could Nick dump me for you, Antoinette
Chloe
. You can’t dress. You look like a luau in a hurricane.” She sniffed. “How could Nick embarrass me like he did? My picture was in the paper. Everyone saw.”

Suddenly Leslie lunged at ACB, with the knife held high. I yanked at her gown as hard as I could and then she turned her attention to me.

Luckily, Antoinette Chloe was on the ball and tripped Leslie. She fell like the skinny contest junkie she might—or might not—be.

I jumped on top of her and smacked her hand against the cement floor until she let go of the knife. Then I tied her hands with the electrical tape that ACB kicked over to me.

Ty Brisco, Vern McCoy, and Lou Rutledge—the entire Sandy Harbor Sheriff’s Department—ran into the garage. Lou rushed over to ACB, cut her free, and helped her up.

ACB and I closed the distance between us and hugged.

“Nice job, Trixie,” she said.

“Nice job, Antoinette Chloe.”

I looked at Leslie lying on the floor and sadness washed over me. She definitely needed help, and I hoped that she’d get it wherever she was sent.

I took Ty, Vern, and Lou aside along with ACB and we huddled. “Be careful, guys. She’s not as helpless as you might think.”

Leslie tossed her hair. “I can’t go to jail right now. I have to get back to the high school to rehearse that lame salmon tableau. I have a pageant to win.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t believe that Leslie the Lunatic still wanted to win the pageant. “I think you’re going to miss the competition, Leslie.”

ACB turned to Ty. “But I can’t miss my opportunity to emcee. This event is my life. Can I hitch a ride with you to back to the high school, please?”

“Sure. I’ll even turn on the siren for you two. You both deserve to finish the event.”

That was nice of him, but all I really wanted was a carton of nut chocolate-fudge brownie ice cream and a spoon.

E-MAIL TO AUNT STELLA

Hi, Aunt Stella!

I have so many things to tell you and you seem to be traveling somewhere, so I always rely on e-mail to reach you.

First, Antoinette Chloe Brown wound up being
not
guilty. We found Nick Brownelli’s real killer with help from Ty Brisco. He’s really a great cop, but you know how impatient I get. I know I should leave him to his job, but ACB’s my friend, and I wanted to help her.

I actually feel bad for the murderer, Aunt Stella. Of course, I feel sorrier for Nick Brownelli. He lost his life way too early.

Sal Brownelli, currently residing in Auburn Correctional Facility in Auburn, New York, was actually a big help in providing motives for whoever might have wanted to kill Nick. Sal is still desperately in love with ACB, and I think a part of her still loves him, too, in spite of
everything he’s done to hurt her. She has such a big heart.

One of the major suspects was Chad Dodson of
the
Dodsons of Beacon Hill in Boston, Massachusetts. They are the big cheeses of banking and insurance, and they had dumped Chad, since he was using up too much of their money. Chad was sniffing around Nick’s life-insurance policy, but his story about Nick owing him money was a lie. He figured that Antoinette Chloe was a soft touch and would buy his story and try to make good on Nick’s debts. Shame on him.

Antoinette Chloe is the beneficiary of Nick’s policy, free and clear. And she decided that she’s going to continue building her drive-in, and plans on remodeling her restaurant with the check from Nick’s insurance company. The rest will go for her secret charity work.

She wants to name the drive-in after Nick. Specifically, she wanted to name it Nick at Nite, but I pointed out that the name was already taken by a TV channel, so she’s still thinking about the name.

Chad went home with his tail between his legs, but before he did, he arranged some kind of partnership with Billy Gerard, also known as Toxic Waste. Chad and Toxic want to open an American-type of restaurant somewhere around Alexandria Bay in the Thousand Islands area.

Billy Gerard is a fabulous chef who owns a restaurant called Billy’s Bavarian. He’s quite devastated by the events, but I think the winner of the Miss Salmon pageant, Cher LaMontagne, has the hots for him, and vice versa.

Billy hasn’t had much luck in the girlfriend department, but Cher seems to be nice and a real change from Leslie.

Oh, and Billy knew that Leslie was masquerading as Aileen Shubert. But he’s been totally in love with Leslie for years, even after she dumped him and was going to marry Nick. Anyway, he kept his mouth shut and tried to figure out what Leslie was up to, but that didn’t stop him from frolicking in the grass with her, if you catch my drift. It’s a long story, Aunt Stella, but you get the idea.

Oh, one day someone was bumping me from behind as I drove to Harbor Hair. Leslie McDermott confessed to Ty that she thought that ACB was driving, not me. Please don’t tell my mom about this. She hates my frequent brushes with death!

But I don’t want my e-mail to be all gloom and doom. The Silver Bullet and the cottages are filled to the brim with fishermen and tourists. I’ll be able to make a balloon payment to you at the end of the quarter. As Ty would say, yee-haw!

The first annual Miss Salmon pageant was a success. The auditorium was
packed, and Margie Grace and ACB prepared a dance that memorialized the salmon running upstream, complete with dancing fishing poles and the fishermen doing the tango with the salmon. It probably would have been better if Margie Grace had left a little to the imagination when the contestants depicted the salmon laying eggs. LOL!

ACB was a success as emcee. I think that the audience was more interested in her costume changes than watching the pageant; she had some real doozies.

God bless her! She enjoys putting together colorful outfits.

In closing, I just have to say that I looked fabulous in one of your gowns. Well, because of my height, it was a tea-length dress on me, not a gown. It was the one with the copper sequins on the bodice and a cream-colored skirt.

Ty waited for me to change for the pageant, and when I walked down the stairs, he whistled—a long, low wolf whistle. And he smiled that great smile he has. His little dimple on the left made an appearance.

Not that I noticed. No way.

Love you,

Trixie