Death At The Diner (A Moose River Mystery Book 7)

  Death At The Diner

  By Jeff Shelby

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Death At The Diner

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2016

  Cover design by Alchemy Book Covers and Design

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

  Books by Jeff Shelby

  The Joe Tyler Novels

  THREAD OF HOPE

  THREAD OF SUSPICION

  THREAD OF BETRAYAL

  THREAD OF INNOCENCE

  THREAD OF FEAR

  THREAD OF REVENGE

  THREAD OF DANGER

  The Noah Braddock Novels

  KILLER SWELL

  WICKED BREAK

  LIQUID SMOKE

  DRIFT AWAY

  LOCKED IN

  The Moose River Mysteries

  THE MURDER PIT

  LAST RESORT

  ALIBI HIGH

  FOUL PLAY

  YOU'VE GOT BLACKMAIL

  ASSISTED MURDER

  DEATH AT THE DINER

  The Deuce Winters Novels (Under the pseudonym Jeffrey Allen)

  STAY AT HOME DEAD

  POPPED OFF

  FATHERS KNOWS DEATH

  The Rainy Day Mysteries

  BOUGHT THE FARM

  WHEN THE ROOSTER KILLS

  Novel for Young Adults

  PLAYING THE GAME

  Short Story Collections

  OUT OF TIME

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  ONE

  “Tacos are gross,” Will said.

  “You're gross,” Grace said. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, pitching her long pigtails from side to side.

  Sophie giggled.

  Emily sighed a perfect teeanaged girl sigh. “Would you just order already?” she said. “I have other tables.”

  “I'm still deciding,” Will said, grinning at his older sister. Considering his palate wasn’t that broad, we all knew this was a flat-out falsehood.

  “Decide now,” I said to him across the table. “Or you can just skip dinner altogether.”

  We were sitting in a back booth at Big Mama's Tacos, the restaurant on Main Street in Moose River where Emily had been working for a couple months. We hadn't made it in to have dinner since she'd started, but since it was nearly summer, we'd decided it was time to go let her wait on us.

  “Grilled cheese,” Will said, handing back the laminated menu. “And I need another Coke.”

  Emily snatched the menu from his hand. “I'm gonna spit in it.”

  “I will have the chicken tacos,” I told her. “And please don't spit in your brother's drink.”

  She made a face and looked at Jake. He was squinting at the menu, which was hard to see in the dim overhead lighting.

  “Cheeseburger,” he finally said. “Well done.”

  She scribbled on the pad and gathered the rest of our menus. “I'll get the drink in a minute.” She hustled off toward the kitchen, her long ponytail swinging, obscuring the graphic on her restaurant-issued t-shirt.

  “Why is it called Big Mama's Tacos if they serve things other than tacos?” Grace asked, twisting the straw in her drink. She’d grown a little over the spring, but she still looked like a dwarf next to her older brother, who was seemingly growing by the day as teenaged adolescence did it's thing with him.

  “It used to just be a taco shop,” Will said. He drummed his fingers on the table as he talked, and I was pretty sure his knee was bouncing in unison. “Then it moved over here and they expanded the menu.”

  Sophie pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at him. She’d gotten a new pair, sleek black ones, and they had somehow managed to transform her from kid to tween. Or maybe being almost thirteen had done that. “How do you know?”

  “Because I read it on the community message boards,” he said. “You can find everything there. Anyway, the owner moved it over here because he wanted to be in the center of town, and he figured he'd get way more business.”

  I glanced around at the full interior of the restaurant. The booths and tables were all filled and the stools at the ice cream counter in the front were occupied, too. “Looks like he was right.”

  “Too busy, if you ask me,” Jake grumbled. “It’s gonna take forever to get our food.”

  “Why is it decorated like this?” Grace asked.

  “You mean like a restaurant sponsored by the United Nations?” Will asked. “Well, the owner’s name is Bjorn so that sounds about right.”

  I knew this much. Emily was always coming home with stories about her customers as well as her boss.

  Grace frowned. “What’s the United Nations?”

  Will sighed. His knowledge of global issues and current events was not matched by his sisters or his parents, which was a continual source of frustration.

  “The UN is a worldwide organization to promote international cooperation,” he said, and it sounded like he was reciting verbatim from Wikipedia. “They’ve only been around for, oh, I don’t know, 75 years.”

  “And they own this restaurant?” Grace asked. “I thought you said some guy owned it, not the entire world.”

  “No, honey, the entire world doesn’t own the restaurant,” I said.

  Her frown deepened. “I think it looks like It’s A Small World.”

  She had a good point. The walls were papered with flags from various countries, and the mounted pictures showcased landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and the Pyramids of Giza. A long, continuous shelf was mounted about a foot below the ceiling, and it was filled with knick-knacks: Russian nesting dolls, Swedish Dala horses, woven God’s Eyes. And then there were taxidermied animals at various intervals: beaver and rabbit and a small fawn. Papa Deer supervised customers at the cash register.

  “Yes,” I said to Grace, thinking about her Disney reference. “It sort of does.”

  “Except we know a lot more people here in Moose River than in Florida,” she said.

  She was right about that, too. Moose River still had a small town feel, but there were times when it felt as if it had grown so much that I didn't recognize it anymore. Sitting in the restaurant, though, reminded me that the town still had its moments where you felt as if you knew all of your neighbors. Officer Ted was sitting at another table with a woman I recognized as his girlfriend. Two families from our old neighborhood were together, digging into a plate of nachos. Wilma Karlson, who owned the neighboring salons on Main Street, was standing near the checkout counter, chatting with the cashier. A man standing behind her and looking somewhat perplexed had a face I recognized, but I couldn't place his name. There was familiarity in seeing people and faces I knew, and as much as Moose River sometimes drove me nuts, I appreciated moments like these and used them to try to remind myself that it was a nice place to live.

  Sophie leaned into me and whispered, “Isn't that the policeman you work with? Officer Ed?”

  “Ted,” I whispered back. “And, yes. I work with him. He's very nice.”

  Officer Ted seemed a little frustrated in whatever his conversation was with his girlfriend, which was a decidedly different mood than I normally saw him in. I'd been working part-time for the Moose River police department for seve
ral months, handling administrative tasks and greeting people who walked in. I'd enjoyed it more than I thought I would, and it had far less of an impact on homeschooling the three younger kids than I'd anticipated. Jake had rearranged his schedule to work some from home, but working from home for him simply meant being available to take phone calls, which allowed him to be involved with their schooling. That was a change, and they all seemed to be enjoying it, which had been a huge relief.

  “Ted doesn't look very happy,” Jake whispered into my other ear. “He's usually like one of those Normal Rockwell paintings come to life.”

  The woman across from him was shaking her finger, almost like she was scolding him. His jaw was set firmly and his hands were clasped together tightly on the table. He wasn't saying anything, his head rock-still, a frown settled on his face.

  “No, he doesn't,” I said. “Good to know he's human.”

  A flurry of servers emerged from the kitchen, none of whom were Emily. They walked by with plates of delicious looking food, and we all followed them hungrily with our eyes. Sophie even sighed as she sniffed the air.

  Will groaned. “We are never gonna get our food.”

  “It’s only been ten minutes,” I pointed out.

  He made a face. “We should make sure our server gets a smaller tip for bad service.”

  I wrinkled up my straw wrapper and tossed it at him. “Just for that, we're giving her a bigger tip. And I'm using your allowance for it.”

  “That's not fair!”

  “I know,” I said, smiling at him. “But I'll get over it.”

  TWO

  “What?” I yelled.

  It was an hour later and we were walking home from the restaurant. The two girls were trailing behind us and Will was a few steps further back, bringing up the rear. A police car raced past us, its sirens blaring, interrupting our conversation.

  “I asked if you had to work tomorrow,” Jake said, squeezing my hand. “I was going to take them swimming in the morning.”

  “Swimming?” Grace was suddenly by my side. “Where? YES!”

  Sophie whooped and the two girls bumped fists. Swimming was about as high up on their list as Disneyworld.

  “I'm not going,” Will said, shaking his head. I was surprised he’d been able to hear our conversation, especially when his eyes—and his attention—were glued to his phone. “Gonna be too hot out tomorrow.”

  “You're going,” I told him. He made a face and I added, “You should go swimming because it's hot.”

  “I hate the sun,” he grumbled. “I wanna live in, like, Seattle or something. Where the sun comes out like twice a year.”

  “Are you sure you’re my child?” I asked him. I looked at Jake. “And, yes, I do have to work unfortunately.”

  Jake frowned. “Alright. Was hoping we could all go.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt. Jake had been nothing but supportive of me working at the department. In fact, he’d been the one to encourage me to apply. But there were still moments when I felt bad that I wasn’t around as much as before. It was the universal mom guilt kicking in.

  He sensed it immediately. “This is nothing to feel guilty about. Stop.”

  It was my turn to squeeze his hand. He knew me so well. “You just want to rub sunscreen on me,” I said, grinning.

  “That, too.”

  The sound of sirens grew louder and another police car raced by us. I watched it fly through the stoplight at full speed, lights flashing, and tried to make out who was behind the wheel. There were only a handful of officers in Moose River and I knew them all. But the sinking sun created a shield of light that prevented me from identifying the driver.

  “Whoa,” Sophie said, watching it go by. “That was fast.”

  “Something's going on,” Will said. He picked up his pace as his fingers flew over the screen of his phone, as if the speed of both were somehow connected to each other. “I'll see if I can find out what.”

  The two girls gravitated toward him, waiting to see if he could pull up any useful information.

  “We could go later in the week?” I suggested, still thinking about swimming. “If you want me to go?”

  “I always want you to go,” he said. “But I feel like we've been cooped up the last couple of days and I need to get them outside.”

  I chuckled. “You're sounding like a real homeschool parent now.”

  He stuck his tongue out at me. “It's summer. This isn't school.”

  “School is all year when you homeschool,” I reminded him. “Because we are always learning.”

  “Yeah,” Will muttered, still scrolling for information on his phone but clearly eavesdropping on our conversation. “Which is total garbage.”

  I kicked him in the back of the foot. He’d moved to a position in front of us. “I'd be happy to make it even more garbage by making math year round, if you'd like.”

  “Nah, I'm good.”

  We did our best to simulate a traditional summer vacation by cutting down on the minimal amount of formal classwork we did, but I still considered it a vital time for their education. Summer months were more focused on getting outside, visiting museums and festivals, and even traveling to places that might be harder to get to during the colder months. The kids did fair projects, too, which were like a mini summer school in and of themselves. Our homeschool didn’t look like most others—we definitely marched to the beat of our own drum in that department—and one of my core tenets was that schooling never stopped, even if it didn't look much like school.

  “It's fine,” Jake said. “I'll take them. Then maybe we can go later in the week, too. I think it's going to stay warm.”

  “It better,” I said, “because I want to go, too.”

  A different siren grew louder and as we crossed the railroad tracks near our home, an ambulance roared by, its red and white lights flashing brightly. The girls stuck their fingers in their ears to block out the wail of the siren and I felt the rush of the wind as the vehicle flew by.

  Jake and I both turned to watch it. The ambulance crossed the tracks and after hesitating at the highway, continued down Main, in the exact same direction we’d just come from.

  “Something's going on,” Jake said. We’d stopped walking and were gazing at the road the ambulance had just driven down. “Didn't even know Moose River had two police cars.”

  I elbowed him. “Stop it.”

  “Can we go chase it?” Grace asked. “See where they’re going?” She was the literal definition of an ambulance chaser.

  “No,” I said, turning around and shooing them back in the direction of the house.

  “I don't see anything,” Will said, his eyes still glued to his phone. “But I'll find it eventually.”

  I had no doubt that he would. His one-track mind would now be locked on to whatever was happening to cause the disturbance in Moose River. He wouldn't be deterred until he had an answer that he could share with his sisters so they'd think he knew everything.

  Which he pretty much did.

  “Let's race,” Sophie said, then darted toward the house, her flip-flops slapping against the sidewalk.

  Grace chased after her, pigtails flying as she tried grabbing her shirt to slow her down.

  Will kept walking, scanning his phone. I was pretty sure he was going to walk directly into the telephone pole in front of him. Another siren wailed in the distance and he turned, saving himself from a head-on collision with the pole.

  I stopped, too, and so did Jake.

  We looked at each other.

  Something was most definitely going on.

  THREE

  “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!” Emily screamed as she burst through the door. “OH MY GOD!”

  We'd been home for ten minutes. The girls were upstairs playing, Will was sitting at the table still scrolling through his phone, frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t find the information he was looking for, and Jake and I were on the couch. He was flipping through the channels on the television an
d I was looking for a chicken tetrazzini recipe on my iPad.

  “Jeez,” Will said, glancing up with annoyance. “Chill out.”

  Emily ignored him, stomping over to us. “OH MY GOD!”

  “I think we got that part,” I said, setting the iPad in my lap. “What's the matter?”

  Her eyes were wide, her ponytail in complete disarray. “Did you not hear all of the sirens?”

  “We saw them,” Jake said, leaning around her, trying to get a look at the TV.

  “You saw them? OH MY GOD!”

  “Walking home from dinner,” I said. “And please don't say those three words again or I'm going to put a sock in your mouth.”

  “Yeah, do it,” Will mumbled from the table.

  “They came to Big Mama's!” Emily screeched. “To the restaurant!”

  “Why didn't they take you away?” Will muttered.

  “SERIOUSLY SHUT UP, WILL!” Emily screamed at him. Her face was red, and a more scrutinizing look at her told me she wasn’t overreacting; she was really upset.

  “Okay, you need to calm down,” I said to her. “One, so you can tell us what happened. And, two, so that you don't get grounded for screaming at anyone else in this house.”

  Will was nodding. “Yeah, and—”

  “And you need to just close it,” Jake said, glancing at him. “Now.”

  Will wrinkled his nose, but stayed focused on his phone.

  Emily took a deep breath and ran a hand over her long, brown hair, tugging the elastic loose in the process. “Okay. Alright. I'm sorry. I just...they came there. To Big Mama's. For Officer Ted.”

  I glanced at Jake, then back to Emily. She was still red, her eyes still huge, and she looked like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. I was pretty sure we had no paper bags in the kitchen.

  “Officer Ted?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. He like keeled over.”

  “He died?” Will asked. His eyes were now bulging, too.

  “No, he fell over,” Emily said. “Right after I brought him his food!”