Twists and Tears (Hawg Heaven Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Page 5

  “Boys will be boys,” Melba replied, looking relieved. “That’d be good for ’em, don’t you think?” she gave Elsa a little squeeze. The dazed woman didn’t even acknowledge the question, she merely stared at the ground and plucked at the sleeve of her grubby sweatshirt.

  Tom and Morgan rejoined them a few minutes later, both looking grim.

  “So, we’re going to get going now,” Rossie looked at Elsa. “I hope you feel better.”

  “Ain’t gonna,” the woman grunted, seeming numb, lost.

  ***

  “Well, that was odd and disturbing,” Rossie commented, once they were back in the car. “I wish I’d had more wine.”

  “Made me wonder if that gal did Warner in herself,” Tom mused.

  “Did you know him? She said he had a drinking and gambling problem.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Everyone knew him, or at least knew of him. He’s been the town drunk for years. Pigs probably didn’t eat him because his liver was pickled.”

  “Is that what you were talking to Morgan about?”

  Tom’s jaw tightened a bit. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I really hope that she didn’t do it. Can you imagine what life would be like for Dylan and his brother, losing both parents?”

  “Might be the best thing that ever happened to them,” the biker shrugged, seeming suddenly remote.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “Mornin’,” Melba Rogers greeted Rossalyn when she came into Hawg Heaven bright and early.

  “Hi, Melba. You’re here early,” Rossie remarked, halfway surprised to see her after the night’s events. “How’s Elsa?”

  “As good as can be, I suppose. I got my sister keepin’ her busy makin’ chocolate pies for a bake sale. I left her a pitcher of my special tea, just in case,” the woman sighed.

  “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  “Oh, heck yeah. We go way back. We were in school together all the way through.”

  “Melba, I hate to ask, because it’s really none of my business, but… did Warner… abuse Elsa?”

  Melba frowned and considered her answer. “Not in the traditional sense, I s’pose, but they didn’t exactly have what you’d call a typical relationship. They pretty much went their own ways, and as long as Warner did the work that was needin’ to be done on the farm, she let the rest of his… peculiarities slide.”

  “Were you friends with him too?” Rossie asked, wondering if maybe Elsa had been jealous of a relationship between her husband and friend.

  “If you could call it that. We’d go drinkin’ together sometimes, but there wasn’t nothin’ more to it than that. We was out drinkin’ just a coupla days before Dylan and your boy found Warner in the pigpen. Don’t even seem possible,” she shook her head.

  “Did Elsa know that you two used to go drinking?”

  “Heck yeah, sometimes she’d call me up and ask me to get him outta her hair while she was cannin’ or cleanin’.”

  “You don’t think she just snapped one day and killed him, do you?”

  “Wouldn’t shock me too bad, I’ll tell ya that,” Melba said in a quiet voice. “Well, I better get back to my vegetables, José will tan my hide,” she chuckled.

  The thought of amiable José tanning anyone’s hide, particularly a strapping gal like Melba, made Rossie grin.

  “I’m going to put the cash drawer together,” she said, on her way to the office.

  “Want coffee?” Melba called out.

  “Always.”

  ***

  Tom Hundman sat at the counter in Hawg Heaven, mowing through a double-stack burger topped with pulled pork, sweet bourbon barbeque sauce, four slices of cheddar cheese, fresh jalapeño, and quick-fried onion rings, when the front door swung open and Butch Clemmons entered with a great flourish. Rossalyn looked up from the cash register in surprise and stepped out from behind it to shake his hand. Instead of shaking her hand, he jogged over, picked the surprise owner up off of her feet and spun her around twice, with a big belly laugh.

  “Rossalyn Channing, I’m here to make your day,” he announced, after setting her down, his crew recording every moment.

  “Umm… okay.” For once in her life, Rossie was speechless.

  “Your little café has gotten more likes and comments on my website than any other restaurant I’ve ever visited,” he boomed.

  “Yeah, we’ve been crazy busy around here,” Rossalyn grinned, wondering what on earth was going on, and wishing she’d paid more attention to her hair.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” the TV host looked delighted. “My producers want to do something very special for you because of all of the great interaction we’re getting online. We’re going to expand your little café, redoing your kitchen with state-of-the-art commercial appliances, adding more outdoor seating for summer months, and giving you a much higher seating capacity, and we want to dedicate a show to the process. Whaddya say?” he looked at her expectantly.

  Rossalyn opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. “Uhh… I have no idea what to say,” she blinked, trying to take it all in.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then. We’re going to provide Hawg Heaven uniforms, Hawg Heaven merchandise and we’re going to trick this place out. Your café will become a destination spot,” Butch exclaimed.

  Rossie glanced at Tom, who had a strange look on his face.

  “Can I think about it?” she asked weakly, overwhelmed.

  “What’s to think about? It’s an upgrade and it’s free, it doesn’t get better than that!” he let out another belly laugh.

  “I’m just a bit… overwhelmed,” Rossie fanned herself.

  Butch moved his finger in the air above his head, signaling his camera crew to stop filming for a moment.

  “Hey, sorry to burst in on you like this,” he said in a lower voice. “The producers just wanted some splashy footage to start the show off on the right foot. Lots of enthusiasm, maybe happy tears…” he explained.

  “Sure, I get it,” Rossie nodded. “But that’s not really how I operate my business. Any decision that I make regarding it takes time and research. I’d never agree to an expansion on a whim, particularly on national television.”

  “I hear you. Well, look… we just got some good footage—the look on your face was priceless—and now you know what to expect. I’ll send you some plans and product brochures to take a look at, and you can see if it’s something that you want to do. If you don’t, we’ll just toss out the video and give the next in line a chance, but if you do, we seriously pay for it as long as we can film it every step of the way. How’s that sound?”

  “More than fair, thank you for understanding,” Rossie was relieved.

  “Not a problem. If I had a sweet biz like this, I’d be careful too. I’ll get some stuff to you, you think about it, and I’ll be in touch, cool?” he asked, giving her a tentative thumbs up.

  “Cool,” she nodded.

  “Great!” Butch gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and breezed out just as quickly as he had breezed in.

  Morgan Tyler was on his way in and held the door for the exiting TV star, giving him a curious look. Tom Hundman dropped the French fry he had just drenched in catsup onto his plate and wiped his mouth, tossing down his napkin. “This day just keeps getting better,” he muttered, fishing some bills out of his pocket and leaving them beside his half-full plate. He stalked out of the diner before Rossie could say a word, brushing past Morgan with a cold look.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” the officer asked Rossalyn quietly.

  Rossie looked behind her and saw Ashley washing her hands in the kitchen. All the prep for dinner was done, Melba was cleaning the walk-in fridge, Garrett was loading the dishwasher, and of course, José manned the grill.

  “Yeah, just give me a second,” she disappeared into the kitchen. “Hey, Ash, can you please cover the front for a few minutes while I talk to Officer Tyler?”


  “Oh heck, yeah, take all the time you need, he’s a cutie,” the young blonde giggled.

  “Everything okay?” José’s brow creased with concern.

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s fine. One of Ryan’s friends has a little trouble at his house, I’m sure that’s what this is about. No worries,” she reassured the cook, who had become like a family member.

  ***

  “So, what’s up?” Rossie asked, after taking a seat behind her desk in the tiny office at Hawg Heaven. Morgan sat opposite her, the leather of his gun belt creaking as he sat.

  “I’m worried about you,” he said bluntly.

  Rossie was dumbfounded. “Worried about me? Why on earth would you be worried about me?” she asked, blushing with discomfort. “What is this about?”

  “I’ve caught you off guard, I’m sorry. When Hundman told me his concerns the other night, I couldn’t get them out of my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if whoever is stalking you is the person responsible for Warner Carnes’s murder,” Morgan explained.

  “He told you about that?” Rossie was surprised.

  She was still halfway entertaining the idea that the stalker might be Morgan, although Tom had dismissed that idea outright. José had encountered a man at the diner a few weeks back who had asked if it was “Ross’s place,” and the description he had given of the man matched the one that Tom gave after seeing him flee at dusk. Morgan Tyler didn’t have long hair, that much was certain, but for some reason, Rossalyn felt uncomfortable with him knowing about the stalker.

  “Yes, he told me, and I’m surprised that I didn’t hear it from you first,” the officer looked strangely hurt.

  “I didn’t think it was any big deal. Somebody has just been coming around fixing things…” she trailed off, feeling suddenly vulnerable and not liking it one bit.

  “And has been in your house without your permission,” Morgan gave her a pointed look.

  “I don’t see how that would tie in with what happened to Warner Carnes.”

  “I don’t know that it does, but when strange things are happening at the same time, you always have to wonder if there’s a connection,” the cop pointed out reasonably.

  “Yeah, I guess I can see that,” Rossie admitted with a small sigh.

  “Just be extra aware. Hopefully one has nothing to do with the other, but even if they are totally separate… people who stalk aren’t usually the healthiest folks,” Morgan warned. “How well do you know Elsa Carnes?”

  “Not very. Ryan goes to school with her son Dylan. I just met her the other day. We took food over to them after the body was discovered,” Rossie shuddered.

  “Did she say anything about her husband?”

  “Nothing good. It was strange, almost like she wasn’t sad about losing her husband at all. She was just upset about not having anyone to do the chores that he did around the farm.”

  “That was the impression that I got, too,” the officer nodded.

  “Do you think she killed him?”

  “Most homicides involve someone that the victim knew or even loved,” Morgan shrugged. “So it’s possible. We’re waiting on some forensics results, because there were next to no clues at the scene.”

  “Really, like what?”

  The officer grimaced. “I can’t get into it, shouldn’t have mentioned it, sorry. Let me know if you find out any info from Dylan or his mother that might seem important,” he rose to go.

  “Hey, Morgan,” she stopped him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I talked to Melba Rogers this morning, and she seemed to think that it’s entirely possible that Elsa did it. They’re best friends, so I think she’d be a good person to talk to.”

  “I took her statement the other night, at the bonfire. I got the impression that she might think Elsa was guilty too. I’m hoping that she wasn’t burning evidence in the pile.”

  “Maybe the guy who is stalking me is stalking her too,” Rossalyn mused.

  Morgan raised an eyebrow at that. “I think that Elsa would welcome a stalker who did chores and fixed things.”

  “Well, yeah. You say that like it’s a joke, but think about it… if she was unhappy in her marriage, maybe she was getting a little outside help with a few things,” Rossie pointed out, then blushed as she realized the implication of her words.

  “It’s not impossible, I suppose. I’ve heard there are women who enjoy male companionship every now and again,” Morgan replied lightly, giving her a look.

  “Something to think about,” Rossalyn replied shortly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  Morgan Tyler knew when he’d been dismissed, and made a hasty exit.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  “Hey Mom, Dylan and I are going to go to the movies. It’s dollar day, and I have some money that Ashley gave me for helping her roll silverware,” Ryan announced.

  “Are you guys walking there?” Rossie asked, absorbed in the expansion plans for the café that Butch Clemmons had sent.

  “Yeah, it’s not that far.”

  “Wait a second…” Rossie reached for her purse. “You need popcorn and candy money, right?”

  “Heck, yeah,” the teen exclaimed.

  “Okay, here you go,” she handed him a couple of bills. “It looks like it’s going to storm today, so don’t walk home if you see lightning, just give me a call and I’ll come pick you up.”

  “I know, I know,” Ryan grinned, having heard this particular lecture several times before.

  “And no sneaking into R-rated movies,” his mother warned.

  “I know, Mom. We’re gonna be late if I don’t get going…” he headed toward the door.

  “Have fun!” Rossie called after him, glad that he’d finally made a friend.

  She worried about him whenever she wasn’t around, but was comforted by the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Dylan wasn’t exactly a tough guy, but kidnappers and evildoers were far less likely to approach a pair of guys rather than a guy by himself. Satisfied that her son would be safe walking to the movies in broad daylight in the company of his friend, Rossie went back to perusing Butch’s plans and taking notes.

  The plans were spectacular, but Rossalyn felt as though they were trying to turn Hawg Heaven into a sort of barbeque theme park. It was very commercial, and she felt like the food was just an added benefit, rather than a focus, despite the state-of-the-art kitchen. Part of what she loved about her quaint little café was its small, almost cramped size, and its homey feel. The décor, which was largely orange and black, with flames creeping from the baseboards up the walls, featuring motorcycle silhouettes and parts on display, was meant to appeal to local people who could relate and weary travelers who thought the theme was fun and familiar. It was a down-home little roadside stop, and that’s how she wanted to keep it.

  Rossalyn made copious notes on the plans, and knew that Butch would have to make some serious revisions in order to make it work for her. She was so absorbed in the exciting task at hand that she didn’t notice the rapidly darkening sky, as storm clouds rolled in.

  ***

  “What have you got, Phil?” Officer Morgan Tyler asked, when the lab tech came in, hand-carrying the report on the Carnes murder.

  “Well, nothing really conclusive that points to a specific perpetrator, but there are some interesting things that might at least lead you in a direction,” the tech shrugged.

  “At this point, I’ll take whatever direction I can get,” Morgan sighed, holding out his hand for the report. “Give me a summary.”

  The tech sat down across the desk from Morgan. “Well, to start with, there’s the trajectory of the bullet through the head. Whoever did this apparently knew how to shoot to kill, and only needed one shot. What’s interesting about the shot, however, is the angle of the bullet exit and entry.”

  “What’s interesting about it?” Morgan leaned forward.

  Phil took the file back for a moment, flipped through the
first several pages, then took out a diagram which showed the front and back of a human skull, with exit and entry holes marked.

  “See this,” he pointed to the entrance wound. “It’s located in the midpoint of the back of the skull, just about halfway between the crown of the head and the base of the skull.”

  Morgan nodded, looking closely.

  “Then you take a look at the exit wound here,” the tech continued. “This wound came out of the top of the forehead.”

  “I see that,” Morgan nodded. “That’s quite an angle.”

  “It is,” Phil agreed. “But it’s not such a profound angle that it would indicate whoever made it had been in a prone or sitting position.”

  “So we’re looking for a perp who was shorter than the victim,” Morgan surmised.

  “Exactly. However, when the victim was nearly 6'4", nearly everyone is shorter. However, this perp was short enough, that, if I had to guess…”

  “You’d say it was a woman,” Morgan finished the sentence.

  “Or a kid who’s a really good shot.”

  “Guess I’d better find out which.”

  “One other thing,” Phil flipped through the file again. “This report is strange because of what’s missing,” he handed Morgan the crime scene evidence report.

  “What’s missing?” the cop raised his eyebrows.

  “Most of the things that you expect to see at a crime scene. There was very little blood, no brain matter, despite the size of the exit wound…” Phil began.

  “Not to be gross, but… he was found in a pigpen. Wouldn’t the pigs have… consumed the evidence?”

  “Had they consumed the deceased, I would say yes, but chances are, if they didn’t touch him, they certainly wouldn’t lap up his blood and brains,” the tech shrugged.

  “Wow, and I thought I was being gross,” Morgan’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  “It is what it is,” Phil chuckled. “There was also no bullet casing for the single shot. We’ve had guys out there checking pig droppings for a few days, and no casing has shown up. When you match that up with the fact that there was no… excess DNA recovered,” Phil phrased it diplomatically this time. “It points to the fact that…”