Death At The Diner (A Moose River Mystery Book 7) Page 14
Arnold set the white box on the counter. “I...I brought these as a peace offering. My newest creation. Chorizo tacos with deep fried avocados in them.”
It was all I could do to keep myself from ripping the lid off the box and stuffing them into my mouth.
“You brought me tacos?” Bjorn said. “You. Brought me. Tacos.”
Arnold looked at each of us. “Yeah. We've been arguing so much and I don't want to argue and I just wanted to say—”
“I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO MAKE TACOS!” Bjorn roared. His eyes bulged and, coupled with his red face, he looked like a surprised tropical fish. “I taught you everything there is to know about making tacos! And now what? You bring me some crazy creation that you've come up with that you're going to sell so that you can close down Big Mama's for good? You bring me the tools of my own destruction?”
I wasn't quite sure Bjorn had the metaphor right, but I understood what he was going for. He felt betrayed and now Arnold was bringing him the things that he felt betrayed over. Or something like that.
“No,” Arnold said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to come say that—”
“That what?” Bjorn interrupted. “That you're happy that no one comes to my restaurant anymore? That you will be happy when the windows are boarded up and there is graffiti written on them? Maybe you are the one who put the acetone in Ted's tacos!” He looked at Ted. “He was here that evening and no one would gain any more from my demise than Arnold the Taco Traitor!”
Arnold stood up straighter, throwing his shoulders back defiantly. “Bjorn, you are a stubborn man, but I am not in any way a traitor. I told you from day one that my dream was to open my own taco shop and that—”
“Traitor!” Bjorn screamed. “Taco Traitor!”
“—I needed to learn how to run a restaurant from you so that one day I could have my own,” Arnold continued. “I gave you more than ample notice of my plans. I continue to speak kindly of you to my customers and to people that I meet. It is you who has decided to speak ill of me and Tiny Papa's. It is you who has decided I'm a traitor. It is you that has dreamed up all of this. But to suggest that I would somehow interfere with your food? That I would somehow, for some reason, put a guest's life and good health in jeopardy?” Arnold's hands shook. “You are INSANE!”
“You've stolen from me!” Bjorn yelled. “You took all of my taco recipes!”
“If you'd actually come to my restaurant, you would see that nothing could be further from the truth!” Arnold yelled back. “My tacos are different! And I hate to tell you this, Bjorn, but they are BETTER!”
Bjorn let out a strangled cry and lunged around the counter toward Arnold. Ted quickly stepped between them, placing his hand on Bjorn's chest.
Bjorn slapped at Ted's hand. “Do not touch me! You have no right to touch me!”
“I'm actually a law enforcement officer,” Officer Ted said. “You are acting aggressively toward someone else and I'm preventing you from assaulting another person.”
“Why don't you just write me another TICKET?” Bjorn said, stepping back, then pointed at Arnold. “And while you're at it, write him a ticket for being a TRAITOR!”
“I am NOT a traitor!” Arnold yelled and stepped toward Bjorn.
“Step back,” Ted warned him.
All three of them began yelling at one another, each trying to be louder than the other.
I winced.
This was not what I'd envisioned when Ted and I left the station. And I felt powerless to do anything to get any of them to calm down. I was picturing wrestling and taco smashing and blood and more policemen.
Forget civility.
We'd descended into total and complete chaos.
THIRTY ONE
The door opened again and now Elsa Ahlberg was standing there, handbag over her shoulder, make-up on perfectly, looking perturbed.
At this rate, I was pretty sure the entire town was going to show up on her heels in no time.
“What in heavens is going on in here?” she shouted at me.
I pointed to the three screaming men and shrugged.
“Theodore!” she shouted. “Theodore!”
Ted turned, realized it was Elsa, and looked like he would've rather been investigating the inside of a burning car rather than be there in Big Mama's Taco Shop with her.
“I was walking by, coming to look for you, and I heard all of the shouting,” Elsa said. “What on Earth is going on?”
“Don't worry about it,” Ted said.
Arnold and Bjorn continued to go at it.
I leaned against the counter, thinking there'd have to be a lull at some point, if only because they'd need to rehydrate.
“Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it?” Elsa said, frowning at him. “Why are you all screaming at one another?”
“It's a long story and, frankly, none of your concern.”
Elsa's round cheeks reddened. “None of my concern? You think that just because we are no longer together that I don't care about you? Or what you might be involved with? How dare you, Theodore! You know me better than that.”
Ted's shoulders sagged. “No, that's not what I meant, Elsa.”
“It most certainly was!” she said, hands on her hips.
I couldn’t believe two men were ready to kill each other in front of us and she was redirecting Ted’s attention.
Ted sighed. “No, it wasn't. I just meant that...I just meant that it doesn't involve you. It doesn't affect you.”
“Anything that affects you, Theodore, affects me,” she said. “I can't just shut off my emotions like they are water coming from a faucet. My emotions are more like...a fountain.”
Ted rolled his eyes and took a couple of steps close to her, lowering his voice, beginning to explain to her what was going on.
I stood there and listened as Arnold and Bjorn continued to yell over one another.
I wanted to believe everyone. I wanted to believe that Arnold wouldn't do anything to sabotage Big Mama's. I wanted to believe that Bjorn wouldn't poison Officer Ted. And I wanted to believe that Elsa had no interest in doing harm to her former boyfriend. But as they all stood around, not bothering to take the time to listen to one another, it was hard to spot anyone who was in the right at that moment. There was no one I wanted to align myself with.
One voice finally stopped talking and I realized it was Ted's.
He had a funny look on his face, as if he was seeing something for the first time and he wasn't sure what it was.
“What is it, Theodore?” Elsa asked, noticing the expression, as well. “Why do you look like that?”
“I...I just...” he stammered. “I just remembered something.”
“What did you remember?” she asked.
Both Arnold and Bjorn stopped screaming at one another to listen.
Ted looked around at each of us, not sure what to do with our attention. Then he returned his gaze to Elsa. And moved it downward.
“Your nails,” he said, his voice still quiet, strained. “I forgot you got them done.”
Elsa glanced down at her own nails, almost as if she'd forgotten that she had them on her fingers. “Um, yes. I did. I get them done all the time. You know that.”
“I know,” he said, still having trouble spitting out his words. “I do know that. I just hadn't thought about it before.”
“You aren't making sense, Theodore,” she admonished.
Ted took a deep breath. “The night...we ate here. You'd gotten your nails done that day.”
“Re-done,” she corrected him. “Because remember? I got a gel done and it didn’t set properly.”
Ted hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I remember. I remember.”
“So what is the problem then?”
Ted swallowed. “You had to take off the old nail polish.”
“Well, duh. Of course. You can't just paint over them. I had to soak my hands for a long time to get that stuff off. Honestly, Ted, you aren't making a lick of sense here.”
Elsa stared at him for a long time.
No one else said a word.
She finally blinked. “Poison? Exactly what are you saying, Theodore?” Her voice was small, her expression one of disbelief. “That you really do believe it was me who did that to you?”
Ted's eyes were wide, like he was just processing what he'd said to her. “I think...I think that is what I'm saying, Elsa.” He swallowed, and we all heard it. “Did…did you poison me?”
She moved her eyes around to each of us, realizing that she had our attention. She finally settled her gaze back on him. Her bottom lip quivered. “I cannot believe you think I'd do such a thing, Theodore. I know that you don't want to marry me, but that doesn't mean I'd ever want to hurt you.” Tears trickled out of her eyes. “I cannot believe you're asking me this.”
Ted shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hitching up his belt. “Can you answer the question, please?” His voice was shaking again. “I am asking you if you poisoned me. Yes or no?”
She stared at him, the tears trailing down her cheeks. “I think I answered this for you already. I cannot believe you are asking me again.” She lifted her chin, attempting to muster up some dignity. “I did not poison you, Theodore. No matter what you think of me, I would never do something like that to you or anyone.”
I could tell by the expression on Ted's face that he was skeptical. There was something that was holding him back from believing her.
“Did you do this?” Bjorn finally asked. “Did you do this in my restaurant?”
“No!” she cried. “I did nothing! I cannot believe you people are accusing me of such a thing!”
“If you did this, I will sue you!” Bjorn shouted. “I will sue you!”
The shouting commenced in all parties again, as Arnold kept Bjorn from walking toward Elsa and Ted yelled at Bjorn to quit yelling and Elsa shouted back at Bjorn.
I didn't know what to do or who to call.
We already had a police officer there.
And then the door opened again.
THIRTY TWO
Wilma Karlson stood just inside the door for a moment, her eyes going wide. She sidled over to me.
“What in the good Lord's name is going on here?” she asked, her eyes dancing around the restaurant. She smelled like hairspray and mint chewing gum. Her pink lips smacked together as she chewed. “I heard the screaming through the wall.”
“Uh, I don't exactly know,” I told her. It was the truth. “It's all...sort of exploding.”
“What exactly is exploding?”
“Everything,” I said, shaking my head. “Everything.”
“I heard all of the shouting while I was working on Sally Gunderson's perm,” she said. “I finally had to excuse myself and come over here and see what the ruckus was.” She put her hand over her heart. “Oh my goodness! This is terrible!”
Arnold now had a hand on Bjorn's chest, as he attempted to keep him from getting closer to Elsa. Ted was screaming at Bjorn, telling him to back off from Elsa. And Elsa was shaking her finger in Ted's face, telling him how offended she was that he was accusing her of poisoning him.
“People!” Wilma shouted, clapping her hands together. “People! This will not do!”
They ignored her and continued shouting.
“Oh my,” she said, shaking her head. “What should we do?”
“I think we just need to wait for them to run out of energy,” I told her.
She clucked her tongue. “What in the world started all of this?”
“Ted found out what happened,” I said. “He found out what kind of poison was in his food the night he got sick. And it all went downhill from there.”
Wilma blinked several times. “Poison?”
Belatedly, I realized Wilma wouldn’t be privy to this information. She might have heard rumors, but it wasn’t a conversation I’d ever had with her.
“Oh. Oh. He did. Really?” Wilma was still talking. “What was it exactly?”
I started to tell her, then caught myself.
Because I smelled something else amidst her cloud of hairspray and gum.
Nail polish remover.
Acetone.
Which Wilma Karlson had in abundance at her salon.
And she, too, had been at Big Mama's the night Ted was poisoned.
“It was...acetone,” I finally said, watching her.
Her eyes were on Ted, but there was no hint of surprise or shock when I told her. “Acetone? Oh, really? That's an odd thing.”
But her expression didn't match up with her thinking, and it was odd. She seemed to be focusing on something else as she watched the chaos continue to unfold.
“Yes,” I said. “Odd is one word for it.”
“Hmm,” she said. She was definitely distracted. “Yes. Alright. Well, I should probably get going. Sally is still sitting in the chair waiting for me.”
I didn't know Wilma well, but she didn't strike me as the kind of person who'd ever leave something like this. She thrived on gossip, on knowing what was going on around town. If I had to guess, it was probably one of the driving forces behind her opening and operating a salon.
If she wanted to leave, there had to be a reason.
And I was starting to wonder if I knew what it was.
I stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. “I think you should stay.”
She blinked and patted her massive hair. “Really, Daisy. I do need to get back to Sally. I can't keep a customer waiting. If you'd excuse me, please?”
I surveyed my options.
I could wrestle Wilma to the ground and hope that one of the other four might take notice.
I could let her go back to cutting Sally Whateverhernamewas's hair and ignore my gut.
Or I could use all the years of my experience as a parent to bring the whole room to a halt.
I turned around, twisted the lock on the door, then turned back to a baffled Wilma and the four other arguing adults.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed, “SHUT UP!”
THIRTY THREE
The screaming stopped and the inside of Big Mama's Taco Shop finally went quiet as all eyes turned to me.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
“She's always around you,” Elsa whispered to Ted. Even at that low tone, I could hear the irritation, the hint of accusation. “Why is she always around you?”
Ted shot her a look, but didn't say anything.
“What is the problem, Daisy?” Bjorn asked. His face was still red, but I was pretty sure this was from the extended period of shouting he’d just participated in.
“I'd like an answer to that, too,” Wilma said, clearly miffed that she was being held up.
I stared at Wilma for a moment. “You were here that night, too, weren't you?”
Wilma's nose twitched like a bunny's. “Which night?”
“The night everyone is yelling about,” I said. “When Ted was poisoned. You were here.”
“Was I?” she said, as if she couldn't remember. “I'm in here so often.”
“You were,” Arnold said. “I said hello to you.”
Her nose twitched again. “Then I guess I must've been here.”
I pointed at Elsa. “Elsa says she didn't do it.” I pointed at Bjorn. “Bjorn says he didn't do it.” I pointed at Arnold. “Arnold says he didn't do it. And they've all been very vigorous in defending themselves.”
She patted her hair and looked around at the faces now trained on her. She always struck me as someone who enjoyed attention, who enjoyed having the spotlight turned on her. She wasn’t looking that way now. “Well, as they should, if they are innocent. If, being the keyword, of course.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her closely. “If being the keyword. I haven't heard you say you didn't do it, though, Wilma. And you were here that night.”
Her heavily made up eyes widened. “Me?” She made a funny noise deep in her throat. “Daisy, you can't be serious.”
I was, in fact, very serious. “I am.”
She set her hands on her wide hips. “Well, I never. You have some nerve accusing me of such a horrible thing.” She glanced at the people standing around us, as if waiting for them to confirm her thoughts.
Instead, they all turned to me in unison. It looked like they were watching a tennis match.
I wasn’t going to let up.
“You have a lot of acetone in your salon?” I asked.
“Well, not in the hair salon,” Wilma said.
“But in your nail salon?”
Her hands moved off her hips and she folded her arms across her chest in a defiant manner. “Why, yes, I'm sure we do. When we do nails, we do like to clean them first.” She laughed nervously. “I'd think that might be obvious.”
“Sure,” I said. “Obvious. So it's not like acetone is something you aren't familiar with.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Daisy, this is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” I asked. “You still haven't said you didn't do it.”
She huffed. “Well, fine. I didn't do it.” She looked everywhere but in my eyes. “I don't...I don't know why you think I'd even do such a thing.”
“For space,” Elsa said.
We all looked at her.
“For space,” Elsa repeated slowly. She took a tentative step forward, as if she were stepping into a spotlight. “You're always complaining that you don't have enough room and that it's a pain to go between the two salons. I think you even mentioned one time that you would love to build a super salon.”
Wilma's nose twitched again. “I don't ever recall saying that.”
“A mega salon,” Arnold chimed in, nodding. His eyes were wide, as if recognition was hitting him. “I heard you say that one time when I was getting my hair cut. You wanted to run a mega salon. Wilma's World, you called it.”
Wilma was beginning to look decidedly less sure of herself. “Well, a girl can dream, can't she?” she said defensively. “Of course, I'd like a big space. Wouldn't we all?”