The Breakfast Burger Murder Read online

  The Breakfast Burger Murder

  A Burger Bar Mystery Book 4

  Rosie A. Point

  Contents

  Meet the Characters…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  More for you…

  Thank You, Reader!

  Meet the Characters…

  The Regulars:

  Christie Lilith Watson: the heroine, on sabbatical from her job in Boston as a homicide detective, she’s returned to Sleepy Creek for some rest and relaxation. And, perhaps, to confront her mother’s cold case.

  Griselda Lewis: Christie’s best friend. She owns the Burger Bar in Sleepy Creek and is always ready with a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Great cook, easily flustered, and loves animals.

  Mississippi Waters: one of the terrible twins who own Terrible Two’s Antiques in town. Nigh on eighty-years-old, she’s a firm believer in keeping cats in the off chance one dies alone in an apartment—the cat will serve as a handy human body disposal. Snarky.

  Virginia Waters: Missi’s softer spoken twin, with plum-gray hair and a can-do attitude. She often encourages Christie to get involved in murder cases, and is very rarely grumpy, unless it’s because of her sister.

  Detective Liam Balle: the handsome detective who’s always determined to do the right thing, even if it means arresting Christie for interfering in his investigations. He has a chin dimple.

  Detective Arthur Cotton: Liam’s partner, hence the pet name for their duo: Cotton and Balle. He’s Griselda’s boyfriend, blonde, slightly overweight, and criminally shy.

  Curly Fries the Cat: eats like a horse, moves like a snail, black fur with a pointy face. Favorite past times include staring at Christie, sitting on Christie’s head while she’s asleep, and eating. She hates the walking portion of the day now that she’s one a diet.

  The Somerville Spiders: potentially, the gang that killed Christie’s mother twelve years ago. They’ve been in Sleepy Creek, or so it seems, ever since Christie returned. Could they be out to get her too?

  For Book 4:

  Nelly Boggs: the local florist. Mousy brown hair, timid, sweet and innocent. She wouldn’t hurt a fly and has recently lost a friend.

  Grayson Boggs: Nelly’s long-lost brother. Young, just out of his teens, with dark hair and goth appeal. He’s never worked a day in his life, until now.

  Donovan Marks: Nelly’s new boyfriend, and Griselda’s new neighbor. Nice enough guy as guys go, owns an annoyingly loud dog.

  Martha Boggs: Nelly’s mother, who abandoned her when she was a child but has recently come to Sleepy Creek to make things right.

  Janine Huxley: Glamor extraordinaire. Young, says ‘like’ a lot, and believes she’s the best thing since the Double Cheese Burger. Mona Jonah’s niece.

  Richard Huxley: Janine’s father. Rich and definitely snooty. Thinks the world owes him everything—graying hair, tall and thin, but not unattractive.

  1

  I had never been big on celebrating birthdays, but I could get used to this.

  Breakfast in bed with an Agatha Christie novel, and the pet kitty of the house, Curly Fries, locked out of my room while I enjoyed this moment on my own. It was the most peaceful I’d been in Sleepy Creek, and it was definitely the best birthday I’d had.

  I hummed and cut into the Breakfast Burger Grizzy had served me this morning. The runny yolk oozed and mingled beautifully with the juicy hamburger patty. The tomatoes were a ripe red, fresh and ever so slightly sweet. The bun had been toasted to perfection and was dotted with sesame seeds.

  Overall, it was about the best meal I could have asked for.

  I took a bite off the end of my fork and chewed enthusiastically, smiling to myself as I turned another page in the paperback.

  The vicar had found the dead body of the most hated guy in the town. A classic, the first in the Miss Marple series, and my favorite book by far.

  A knock rattled at my bedroom door, and Grizzy opened it and slipped inside. “Happy birthday!” she said, for the fifth time this morning. “Have I mentioned how happy I am you’re still here?”

  “Thank you,” I said, and put my book down, carefully marking my place with a marker. “Griz, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me. I—”

  Grizzy whipped out a package from behind her back and held it out. It was small, wrapped in golden paper and with a big cream bow on top.

  “Wow, Griz, you really didn’t have to.” I couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten me a gift. My throat grew tight. “Really. This is too much. Breakfast and a gift?”

  “Come on, just open it.” She walked it over to me, and Curly Fries slipped through the crack in the open door behind her. Of course, the cat would take her opportunity to taunt me on my birthday. It wasn’t enough that I was officially one year past thirty.

  “Thank you.” I took the present and tore the giftwrap off. I lifted a book, admiring its glossy cover. “Murder on the Orient Express.”

  “I figured it was time you retired that worn out copy of Miss Marple and move onto Poirot.”

  “Griz, this is awesome.”

  She came over and gave me a hug. I squeezed her back.

  “I’m spoiled today. I’ve never been treated like this before.”

  “Chris, that makes me kind of sad. Everyone should be treated well on their birthday. Even if—no! No, no, no, Curly, you know you’re not allowed in here. No burgers for you.”

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  Grizzy looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “What do you mean it’s fine? You hate it when she stares at you.”

  “She can stay for now.”

  “Oh. Oh, all right, your funeral,” Griz said, and laughed at my expression. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  It wasn’t easy to take jokes about death or funerals too lightly nowadays. Sleepy Creek had seen its fair share of murders over the course of the last month. Just last week, I’d fallen into another investigation, one that might have involved the same people who had murdered my mother years ago.

  “Christie?”

  “Huh? Sorry.” I often thought of my mom at times like these. My birthday, especially. I wished she was here to celebrate with me. She’d have loved this burger.

  “I’ve got to get to the Burger Bar,” Griz said. “But you enjoy your day off. Don’t let Curly irritate you too much.”

  “Nothing can bother me today,” I said.

  Griz hopped up, dusted off her blue jeans, checked that her uniform shirt with its Burger Bar logo on the breast pocket was straight, then hurried from the room.

  Curly took her opportunity. She leaped onto the bed and sat her fluffy butt down. She didn’t flick her tail or meow, but stared at me, those yellow eyes all-seeing.

  “Has anybody ever told you, you’ve got a face only a mother could love?” I asked, as I cut another piece of my burger. I shed the meat of its bun and egg, then speared the bit of grilled patty on the end of my fork. “But, since it’s my birthday, why not?” I held out the fork to her.

  Curly erupted into her food purrs and came over. She rubbed the side of her face against my hand then licked the burger. She took it off the
fork with her teeth, dropped it onto my frilly pink duvet cover, and set to work feasting.

  I would’ve been irritated if I hadn’t thought the meat stain improved the duvet set. “There,” I said. “Now, you get a birthday gift from me on my birthday.” I flipped the paperback over in my hand and read the blurb as I spoke. “And your birthday gift to me can be not sleeping on my head tonight. Or leaving anymore mice in my shoes. Deal?”

  She didn’t look up from her feast.

  A bang rang out downstairs.

  “What the...?” I shifted my breakfast tray aside.

  Thudding steps ascended the stairs, and my heart did a flip, turn and a double-dip. Spiders? I hopped out of bed and positioned myself behind the door.

  It flew open and banged into my nose.

  “Christie!” Grizzy called.

  “Ow.” I lifted my hand and covered my face. “Ow, ow, ow, what was that for?”

  “Hey, wait, why are you behind the door?”

  “Because I thought you were—”

  My friend grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the bed, then forced me onto it. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You need to get dressed, now.”

  “What?”

  Grizzy stormed to my dresser drawers and ripped them open. She grabbed an armful of clothing, marched back over to me and threw it in my lap. “Quickly. We’ve got to go.”

  “What? Where?”

  Even Curly was shocked. She’d stopped eating long enough to meow balefully at Griselda.

  “The hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I got a call from Vee as I was on my way out the door. Nelly Boggs has been attacked. And her mother has been … well, it’s not looking good.”

  “What?” I leaped up from the bed and showered the floor in clothing and underwear. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” Nelly was a sweetheart who’d done nothing but spread good will since I’d first met her. The florist. Who would attack her and why?

  “I’m not kidding,” she said. “Come on. We’ve got to meet Missi and Vee there in five minutes.” And then Grizzy was out of my room again, the door slamming shut behind her.

  An attack on Nelly? And her mother was, what, dead?

  Not again.

  I dressed fast then rushed out of the room and down to Grizzy’s waiting Kia, my heart thumping in my chest.

  2

  “What is it about hospital cafeterias?” Missi asked, and took a tight-lipped sip from her Styrofoam cup. “You’d think they’d have the best coffee, what with all those handsome exhausted doctors running around, but no. No, it’s just… swill.”

  “I happen to agree, for once.” Virginia placed her half-empty cup on our melamine-topped table. “How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait?”

  We had gathered in the cafeteria to wait for visiting hours. Nelly was alive and recovering from a bump on the head, but the same couldn’t be said for her mother. The cops had already come to the hospital to take Nelly’s testimony because Martha Boggs was dead.

  “—as soon as they’re finished,” Grizzy said. “I’m just so sad this has happened. And on Christie’s birthday too.”

  “My birthday’s got nothing to do with it,” I said. “What matters now is we rally around poor Nelly. She’s been through so much already, what with losing Francesca and now this.” It was a little too close to home for me. I’d lost my mother in Sleepy Creek years ago.

  “Yes, it’s terrible,” Vee said. “I hope the police finish soon, so we can get in there and— Oh! Look, there’s that detective of yours, Christie.”

  I stiffened.

  Liam Balle, the detective who’d just so happened to have asked me out on a date last weekend at the Food Fair, stood in the doorway, his gaze traveling over the diners and doctors and nurses.

  He spotted me then sauntered over and stopped next to our table. “Morning, ladies.”

  “Good morning, detective Balle,” Griz, Vee and Missi chorused.

  I cringed inwardly. “Hi. What’s up?”

  “Talk to you for a second?” Balle asked.

  “In an official or unofficial capacity?” I rose, not really expecting an answer, and followed him across the cafeteria to an empty table. He drew out a chair for me then took one himself.

  “Thanks.” I tried not to blush like a bruised tomato. “So, what’s going on?”

  “See, now, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” Balle ran a thumb over his chin, dragging it along stubble. Too tired to shave? Perhaps, he’d been called out of bed early? “It’s a murder. Martha Boggs was shot, and I’m only telling you that, Christie, because it’s already been printed in the papers and released online.”

  “You want me to butt out,” I said.

  “I want you to not wind up in trouble. You’ve escaped danger and being fired from your job by the skin of your teeth three times now. No one’s that lucky.”

  “I’m like a cat,” I said, grinning at him. “I’ve got nine lives.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “And what does curiosity do to cats?”

  “There was another part of that idiom. I believe it involved satisfaction.”

  “Don’t be cute with me,” he said, but his tone wasn’t nearly as gruff as it had been when we’d first met. “You know I’ve got to do the right thing.”

  “And so do I. And if doing the right thing involves staying clear of trouble, including whatever’s going on with Nelly and Martha, or was going on with Martha before she died, then there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Evasive.”

  “What did you expect?” I asked. “Nelly’s my friend.”

  The corners of Liam’s lips twitched upward, and his handsome quotient grew by one hundred points.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing, just, it’s funny.”

  “What is?”

  “When you came to Sleepy Creek you were just the detective and the out-of-towner. Now, you’re a part of this place,” Liam said.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” But that brought another question to light—if I wasn’t a part of the town, then why was I here, flirting with the detective? If I couldn’t stay, what was the point of going on a date with him?

  Relax. It’s no big deal.

  Liam sighed. “Well, I tried. And I don’t need to warn you that—”

  “If you catch me investigating, you’ll have to report me and arrest me for real this time,” I said.

  “Correct.”

  But there was a big ‘if’ in that sentence. If he caught me. He wouldn’t. I had to be truthful with myself—I wanted to find out what had happened to my mother and now, to Nelly and her mother. The more I tried to deny it, the more impulsive I became in my investigations.

  This time around I’d be clear-headed, and maybe, I’d help solve this case without getting caught.

  “Oh boy,” Balle said. “I can see the dials whirring in that pretty head of yours.”

  “Pretty?”

  “What, you never looked in a mirror before?” He winked at me as he rose from the table. “Stay out of trouble, Chris.”

  And then he was gone, and I was left with a fluttering heart. So not me. I gave myself a second to calm down before heading back over to the table. The women looked at me, interest sparkling in their eyes. Missi’s mouth was halfway open, likely with a barbed comment on the tip of her tongue.

  “Before anyone says anything”—I lifted my palm—“I think we can go see Nelly now. Visiting hours. Cops are gone. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily,” Missi said.

  “It’s my birthday. You’re not allowed to tease me on my birthday.”

  “I did not sign anything with that stated on it.” But Missi didn’t start up the Liam-related line of questioning.

  We made our way through the Logan’s Rest Hospital, down sterile corridors, while nurses or doctors or patients passed by. We took the elevator to the
second floor and found Nelly in her ward. She was sharing with three others and two empty beds.

  Nelly’s mousy brown hair fell around her face, as usual, but a huge bandage had been tied around the top of it that made her look a lot like a cheesy mummy from an old silent film. She was propped up against her pillows, TV remote in hand, and a smile on her face.

  “There you are,” she said. “The detectives mentioned that you four tried to barge in here before they could.”

  “Visiting hours have started, at last,” Grizzy replied. “How are you feeling, Nelly?”

  “I’m fine. A little bit headachey, but the doctor says that if I take my meds and get lots of rest, I’ll be out of here in no time. By tonight. I’m looking forward to that. I’ve never liked hospitals. Could you close the curtains?” She gestured to the sheets surrounding her bed.

  Missi swept the baby blue curtains closed and shuddered. I didn’t blame her. The last time we’d been here Virginia had been the one in the hospital bed.

  We huddled around her, and I struggled to keep my face straight. Why was Nelly so happy? Surely, the detectives had told her what had happened to her mother. How could I ask Nelly about her mom without coming off too much like a detective?

  I nudged Grizzy. She was the one who was good with emotions.