Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (2 page)

Lionel had been the only mechanic in Maple Gap for as long as I could remember, so he knew Old Lou almost as well as Hardy and I. “What use does he have for a car that won’t start?”

“He’s got a soft spot for antiques. His first car was like Old Lou, and he courted Martha in a car just like it.”

We’d buried Martha almost fifteen years ago. “Antique?” Now why did it bother me to hear Old Lou called an antique? Sounded too much like the knickknacks and furniture Marion Peters used to have in her antiques shop—broken down and covered in dust. The implication being if my car was old, then I was really old. And here I’d just called Hardy a Model T. Who was I kidding?

I heaved a sigh. No time to fret over age. “I’ve got something else on my mind.” I pulled Hardy close to me and started to whisper, but he got this look on his face and flashed his gold tooth again.

“You better fold your tail in, Mr. Peacock. I’ve got murder on my mind.”

Hardy frowned.
“Been killing me for years.”

I glanced over at the funeral home next door to my restaurant and pointed. “If you don’t hush, Carl’s
gonna
have him a fresh corpse for the seven o’clock viewing this evening.”

“You’d miss me.”

“No I wouldn’t, I’ve got good aim.
Now you going to listen to me or not?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. I made sure no one was around and got down real close to Hardy’s ear and began relaying all William had told me and the plans for our meeting tonight. Hardy scratched his jaw and mulled over the latest puzzle. “I think I remember where he lives.”

“’Course you do. You and I took over soup and carrot cake that time his momma was so sick years ago. Remember? Caleb squawked because Lela was allowed to carry the cake and he wasn’t, but when you gave it to Caleb, what did he do first thing?”

“At least it landed in the grass and not in the flower garden.”

“And those two
couldn’t hardly
wait for me to get the grassy frosting scraped off so they could eat the cake while I made a fresh one.” I smiled at the memory of my babies waiting expectantly to tear into the cake they’d dropped by accident. You ask me, I think they plotted out the crime beforehand.

I opened the door of the restaurant and shooed Hardy inside. I hustled to pick up a nice salad out of the cooler for Lester Riley, and added a tall glass of iced tea with three slices of lemon to my tray.

Lester saw me coming. “Hail the future town councilwoman.”

“Um-
hm
, and you’re
needing
to be replaced if you can’t even read my sign that says please wait to be seated.” I set the salad and tea on the table and slid it in front of him, then handed over the menu tucked under my arm. “And you can stop shaking that political
limb,
I’ve got no interest in politics.”

Lester took a big gulp of tea and pouted down at the salad. “Just because you lost all that weight doesn’t mean the rest of us need to starve.”

“It’s good for you. And the liver and onions you always get is going to make you a client for that boy behind you.” I nodded over at Carl
Baereum
. “Quicker than you want, if you keep it up.”

Dr.
Cryer
,
overheard our exchange and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, Lester, wasn’t your wife just fussing at you over your blood pressure? A few pounds never hurt.
LaTisha’s
a good example of that.”

Lester groaned. Dr.
Cryer
and I shared a grin while Lester picked up his fork and dug into the pile of romaine and arugula topped with tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, carrots, and a few crumbles of blue cheese. I waited for his reaction.

Ever since being diagnosed with diabetes, I’d learned to be more careful. Not that I had a choice. But the diagnosis made me realize I was digging my grave with my fork. I started to make small changes, then bigger ones, even doing some regular exercise. Almost twenty-five pounds later, I felt the change from the top of my head down to my toes.

My new respect for vegetables is the reason I piled them on top of the salads sold at the Goose. I’d spent an entire week experimenting with different herbs and spices to make up my own salad dressings. Some people can’t stomach the thought of chewing lettuce and carrots without a good dose of flavor to wash it down.

Lester crunched in sober contemplation, his grumpy look morphing into delight. “This isn’t bad. What kind of dressing is it?”

See what I mean?
“Sweet Herb.
It’s got garlic, thyme, marjoram, basil, vinegar, and honey, so it’s
sweeter,
though not near as spicy, as your opponent.”

Lester sat back in his chair, hooked a thumb through the shoulder strap of his overalls and jerked his head to indicate table six. “They’ve got me all set up to give a speech after Mayor
Taser
on Thursday morning. Mayor Riley has a nice ring to it.”

Knowing Carl
Baereum
and Mayor
Taser
went back so many years and remained such good buddies, I had to assume the idea for Lester to make a speech came from Dr.
Cryer
, also part of the city council and a staunch supporter of Lester in the race for mayor.

“It’d be good for the town to hear your humility. It’ll give them an idea of what a windbag Mayor
Taser
has become. Anything is better than another term with Eugene as mayor. I’d think the whole landfill thing would have helped some
citizens
wake up.”

“He thought it would be good revenue for Maple Gap.”

“Now I ask. How is having a landfill right on the corner of town limits going to help Maple Gap? Money isn’t everything.”

It had been a fiasco. Most of Maple Gap had turned out to protest Eugene’s plan to let the land go to Aidan
Abbett
, a new guy in town, for a landfill.
 

“And what’s up with all these new faces on his campaign committee?”

Lester hooted. “So you have been paying attention to politics!” He took a long pull of his tea. “But only kind words for our mayor, please,
LaTisha
.”

I gave him the look I’d made famous with my children. “Honey, for him, those are kind words.”

“You’re still mad that he got Marion’s old building tore down and built that strip mall in its place.”

“You are right about that.” While I was off trying to get Hardy’s momma settled in at Bridgeton Towers Assisted Living and Nursing, a judge removed the historical status of the building owned by my former employer, Marion Peters.
 

Marion, who had wanted to sell the building but couldn’t because of its historical status, had received her wish for it to be taken off the historical list posthumously. But when finding her murderer also uncovered a hidden treasure of historical status, the council reinstated the historical status. Everyone got uptight about the whole thing.

Mayor Eugene
Taser
had shed some salt for the crowds of angry citizens who wanted it to remain a historical site, but he sure was quick to get the building torn down and build a new strip mall after the judge’s ruling.

We now have a brand new strip mall with a jewelry store and two vacant storefronts.

“What does Maple Gap need with a jewelry store?”

Lester scraped his salad plate and stabbed another bite. “Now,
LaTisha
, that new building is generating more taxable dollars to help the school not feel such a pinch. You know what a soft spot you have for the local school.”

I got rather obstinate on this subject. “And I’m sure there are other ways to raise money without stripping the town of its history or moving a landfill in here. A subdivision would be a better solution. Bring in taxes and children.”

Lester’s eyes took on a gleam. “I don’t disagree, but your passion is one of the reasons you’d be a good candidate for the council. Think about it. You could generate a lot of great ideas. We need you.”

Hardy and I drove out to William’s place after we closed the restaurant. Somehow Lionel had managed to work his magic on Old Lou and got her chugging again. She still had real issues, issues she reminded us of with every grump and groan as we traveled the unpaved roads to William’s house.

We’d been swallowed up by trees half a mile back. Not that I minded. The woods had a presence all their own, a certain serenity that softened the hard edges of life. Though I much preferred being around people.

Hardy pulled the car up to the house and stopped. William’s motor scooter let us know he was home. Boy never owned a car as far as I knew. I did wonder how he carried groceries and things though. Those saddlebag thingies on the back of the scooter didn’t look like they would hold much.

 
Hardy and I stood next to each other looking over William’s cabin. “It’s creepy if you ask me,” Hardy whispered. “You don’t reckon he’s dead in there, do you?”

“
Sh
!
” I hissed at him. “You’re talking crazy.”

“It sure is quiet.”

His house was small.
A log cabin.
Kind of what you’d expect from someone like William. I could hear the scratching and low clucks of chickens.

I gulped. Hardy might be on to something. What if William’s hit man had already found him? Those guys had to cover their tracks and mercy wasn’t a quality they were known to have in great abundance.

I glanced at Hardy. His steps had slowed, and I saw the whites of his eyes as they darted around the yard, then over at me.

Mwwwoooo
!

 
Hardy and I jumped into each other’s arms, hearts pounding against one another. I waited for something to happen.
Something bad.
When nothing did, I opened my eyes; Hardy still had his shut tight.

I shook him off and stood up. “This is pure foolishness. If he’s got chickens, he’s probably got a cow. Get on up there and knock on that door.”

His eyeballs peeled open and he smacked his lips together. “Momma taught me to let age come before beauty, so you first.”

I thwacked him a good one on his shoulder. “You best move that body up those steps real fast before I start giving you your last rites.”

Hardy leaned in, got up on tiptoe and landed one on my cheek. “That’s the only last rite I want. If there’s a body in there, I’m
gonna
die for sure.”

He bounded away from me and up the steps, lifting his hand to knock. No creaky hinges for this door to go along with the horror scene Hardy and I had worked up in our minds. We both sure were glad to see William standing in the doorway, though. His eyes roved the yard in back of us. I could almost smell his fear. He didn’t crack a smile, but motioned us inside. Not that he smiled a whole lot anyhow, but it might have been nice if he’d squeezed one out for company.

The quiet of the place gnawed at me. Hardy stood staring up at the mounted head of a bear, a deer, a wild boar, and what looked like an elk or moose or something.
Made me dizzy to have my head cocked back like that, so I turned my attention to the kitchen.
William’s momma never had been one much for company, and despite my food run that one time she’d been ill, I’d never seen the inside of the house before. I’m always curious about a person’s kitchen. You can learn a lot by the decor and the way an individual organizes his space.

  
William’s kitchen both surprised and pleased me. When he saw what I’d laid my eyes on, the smile cracked through and he nodded his encouragement. Stainless steel refrigerator, small, but what do you expect for one person?
A propane
cooktop
and professional-looking wall oven.
William even had flour sprinkled across his counter and bread dough rising in some sort of basket thing.
Had a fancy dishwasher too.
Not that I knew much about brands, but I knew good quality when I saw it. That’s why I’d married Hardy.

William pulled out a chair for me at the table and crossed the kitchen. He tucked a towel around the dough in the basket.

“What you got there, William?”

His eyes traveled the room before settling on me briefly. He seemed nervous. Whatever caused him not to want to talk out loud stoked my compassion, but also tested my patience. “Talk, boy, it’s just Hardy and I.”

“I’m a little rusty.” His first words came out squeaky and grinding, reminding me of someone working an unprimed pump handle.
 
“I-I don’t like to talk much.” He swallowed hard and licked his lips, taking a serious swallow of his drink. I’m guessing the pump needed to be primed a bit after not being used for so long.