The Double Cheese Burger Murder Read online

  “This is it?” Haley skewered Jerry Lee with a look. “This is the best you can do?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jerry said. “Do I know you? You seem…”

  “Angry,” I put in. “Livid, actually.”

  “Butt out.” Haley pressed her fingers to the clasp on the writing desk, and a clack echoed through the store.

  I blinked. “Butt out of what?”

  Haley opened the top of the writing desk and a strange noise hissed from the box.

  Whisk-thunk!

  “Ow!” She snatched her hand back. “What the—?”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Haley held out her thumb and showed off a single bead of blood against the whorls of her skin. “There’s a—There’s a—” she said, and swallowed reflexively. “A needle in the box. There’s a needle.”

  “Dear?” Virginia squeaked.

  Griselda had gone pale.

  “Call an ambulance.” I moved to Haley’s side just as the woman collapsed. I caught her and stumbled away from the antique. “Griz, call an ambulance.”

  “He’s killed me.” Haley’s face drained of color. “I always knew he would find a way in the end.”

  “Stay with me, Haley.”

  Grizzy had her phone to her ear and yammered into it. Missi shook her head. Virginia was wide-eyed and gripping handfuls of plum fluffy hair. And Jerry? He turned on his heel and sprinted from the store.

  “Hang in there, Haley,” I said.

  But it was too late. She was already gone.

  3

  Detectives Cotton and Balle arrived on the scene after the ambulance. They guided all four of us out of the antique store and into the harsh morning light. Virginia clung to Missi, who had never been this quiet in the time I had known her. Granted, that wasn’t long, but still.

  “Are you all right?” Arthur Cotton, Griselda’s greatest admirer, stood next to her. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

  “I’m—I don’t know,” she said.

  I ran my finger along my bottom lip and held back the slew of questions that had already cropped up. I worked them over in my mind, searching for an answer. Another murder in Sleepy Creek, and so soon after the last one.

  Something was up.

  “Miss Watson.” Detective Balle blocked my view of the street and the wrought iron lamps that lined it. “Why is it you’re at the scene of every crime I investigate?”

  “Bit of an overstatement,” I said. “I wasn’t there when you responded to the disturbance at Maura Joseph’s house the other night.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “News travels fast.” Maura’s cat had gotten into an argument with her neighbor’s dog, and that had led to a full-scale code red. People calling into the police station, convinced another murderer was on the loose.

  Everyone was paranoid after last week.

  But they had a good reason for it.

  Poor Haley.

  She hadn’t stood a chance. The antique box had contained a syringe filled with poison. It had to be poison. Something strong that acted quickly. Cyanide? Arsenic?

  “All right, Miss Watson. It’s best if you and I have a talk. Right this way,” Balle said, and led me away from Grizzy who nodded and listened to what Arthur had to say, and Vee and Missi, who were pale but recovering from the shock.

  He gestured to a bench on the sidewalk beneath a lamppost. All across the street, folks appeared in the doorways of their quaint brick-faced stores, peering out at the commotion. I took a seat, and Liam joined me, notepad and pen out.

  “Do you want to walk me through what happened?”

  “The victim entered the antique store at a quarter past nine in the morning. That’s an approximation. She spent five minutes speaking to people in the store, then walked to the antique writing box and opened it. A syringe deployed. She died minutes later.”

  Balle scanned my face. An emotion I couldn’t quite place flickered in his eyes. “Christie,” he said. “Talk to me like you’re a witness, not my partner. Cold facts are good but I’m much more interested in your take on what happened.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might’ve seen something the others didn’t,” he replied. “That’s your job. And if you’re anything like me you don’t switch off when you’re out of uniform.”

  He was right. I hadn’t switched off in years. Whether it was a case I had a hand in, or my mother’s cold case, I was always thinking about finding the truth.

  It was a pity I didn’t have any answers about my mom, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Balle for access to the cold case file either. Now wasn’t the time.

  “Christie?”

  “Yes,” I said, at last. “All right. OK. Haley came into the store, and she seemed angry. At first she was fine, right? She acted shocked to see me, but I wouldn’t have called her behavior out of the ordinary.”

  “Did that change?” Balle clicked his ballpoint. He scraped the end along the stubble on his square jaw.

  “Yes. The minute she spotted Jerry Lee. Or maybe it was the minute Virginia told her that they’d purchased something from him.”

  “Jerry Lee?”

  “Yeah, that’s Griselda’s cousin. He ran out of the store right after Haley collapsed.”

  “What’s his full name?”

  “Jerry Lee Lewis,” I said.

  Balle’s bottom lip twitched. He wrote the name down but didn’t comment. “And he sold the box to Virginia and Mississippi?”

  “Yes. It’s a Civil War era writing desk. They contacted him via his website and he brought it down from Cleveland to deliver it to them.”

  “Right.” Balle wrote that down too. His handwriting was a series of neat, square strokes. Every movement was precise.

  I told him what had happened next, the minor disagreement, and Haley’s insistence on examining the box. “I think it was spring-loaded or something. The syringe, you know? The minute she opened the box it struck her.” It had reminded me of a coiled viper, waiting to lash out.

  “I’ll need to speak to this Jerry Lee guy,” Balle said, and unclicked his ballpoint. “Do you know where he’s staying?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s just come to town, I think. That’s what he told us this morning when he turned up at Griselda’s place.”

  “I’ll get more information from Miss Lewis.”

  “Yeah, she probably has his phone number.” I touched Liam’s arm, and a rush of sparks traveled over my skin. I drew my hand back again and placed it in my lap. “Whoever loaded that box had to either know Haley was going to open it or expected Jerry Lee to.”

  Balle nodded. “Don’t worry, Miss Watson. The Sleepy Creek Police Department has this under control.” He rose and effectively dismissed any further discussion. Clearly, the good detective didn’t want me involved in this case either.

  Just because I’d helped with the last one, didn’t mean I could do the same this time around.

  Balle walked toward Griselda and Arthur, but spared me a single glance. Was it a warning? He was somber at the best of times, so I couldn’t tell the difference between serious investigative mode and a non-verbal threat for me to butt out of his investigation.

  “Butt out,” I muttered. Exactly the words Haley had used shortly before someone had injected her with poison. “Got to be cyanide. Instant. Got to be—”

  “Are you OK?” Griselda plopped down beside me on the bench. “That was … I don’t even know how to put it.”

  “Me neither” I said. “But, you know what this means, right?”

  “I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to be tired too, and we still had to get to the Burger Bar and open up.

  “Either Jerry Lee did this or someone who wanted to murder Jerry Lee,” I said.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, Jerry Lee had to know that someone would open that box. Perhaps, he knew that Haley would be there
. He spring-loaded it and when it happened, he freaked and ran out.”

  “We’re not super close, but that is my cousin you’re talking about, Chris. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Grizzy’s voice shook. Now probably wasn’t the best time to discuss this.

  My cop brain had already started working overtime, and I couldn’t shut it off. “Sorry,” I said. “Sorry, Griz. I’ll shut up, now.”

  “It’s OK. I understand. I just—why do you think he ran out?”

  Apart from the obvious? “I can’t say. Maybe he got spooked.” I stood up. “Griz, I need to go home and take a shower before we open up. Is that OK?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m going to head over to the Burger Bar.”

  “You don’t want to take the day off?”

  “No. No, definitely not. If I take the day off I know I’ll sit at home and think about the murder. I need to work. And I need to be there in case Jerry Lee comes in to talk. He hasn’t answered his phone since he left, and I’ve tried calling like twenty times.”

  “If you’re sure.” I shared her feeling about the work taking our minds off this particular event. I could only hope that the awesome atmosphere in Griselda’s Burger Bar would override the questions.

  I couldn’t afford to get in trouble. I’d lucked out the last time, but if I stepped too far over the line again, I could bet my bottom dollar that Balle would call Chief Wilkes and get me fired for good.

  “Besides, I get the feeling Virginia and Missi are going to need two servings of the double thick choc malts today.” Griz pointed at the terrible twins beneath their Terrible Two’s Antiques sign.

  Detective Balle spoke with them while Detective Cotton pulled a police line across the front of their beloved store.

  4

  I sat on the stool at the counter in Grizzy’s Burger Bar and avoided my reflection in the mirror behind it. I had run a brush through my hair after my shower, but I had foregone mascara—my mother’s infamous secret weapon.

  The circumstance warranted it, though. The brunch rush hadn’t started yet, so I didn’t have much to take my mind off things, and the presence of the terrible twins in their corner booth didn’t help much either.

  They cast glances around the inside of the restaurant, whispered to each other, and acted as if the shadows held secrets. I didn’t blame them. Sleepy Creek wasn’t exactly ‘murder central,’ and we’d had two of the things in the span of a month.

  “Hear anything yet?” I asked Grizzy, who fiddled with the mixer above the bar fridge.

  She’d already whipped up two choc malt shakes for the ladies, but she hadn’t quit cleaning or moving since she’d gotten in. She had even tried to impose her presence in the kitchen, only to be kicked out by Jarvis.

  “Nothing. Not even a text message.” Grizzy polished the coffee machine next, her rag thwapping against the plastic and metal. “It’s ridiculous. He turns up at my house in the dead of the night with that murder box and then—”

  “Murder box?” A dumpy woman with hair as yellow as the early morning sun strode up to the counter. Short, messy. She had a red stain in the corner of her mouth, possibly ketchup, or a cheap shade of red lipstick she’d removed for the safety of the eyesight of Sleepy Creek’s residents.

  Griz and I had been so involved in our conversation we hadn’t noticed the front door’s clatter.

  “So, it’s true then.” The newcomer whipped off a silken scarf and used it to dust off one of the bar stools. She took a seat after she was done and dumped the accessory in her lap. “Haley Combes is dead.”

  “And a pleasant morning to you too, Mona.”

  Mona. The name was meant to be said in a throaty growl, teeth clenched and palms a-sweatin’. Mona Jonah had a reputation in Sleepy Creek as the worst, the foulest gossip to walk down Main Street.

  Her quaint name did nothing to soften her nasty attitude.

  I hadn’t spoken to her before, but, boy, the rumors about the Gossip-in-Chief circulated through the store with centrifugal force.

  “Yes, darling, lovely to see you out and about. Is it true you’re dating Arthur Cotton, now? He’s investigating Haley’s death, yes?”

  Wow. Mona’s reputation didn’t do her justice. “I’m Christie,” I said, and extended my hand.

  She took it with fingers tipped in nails that put mountain lions to shame. “Oh, I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. You’re the Bostonian.”

  “I’m—I guess you could say that, yeah.”

  The woman’s grip tightened, a stranglehold, and I returned it with force. I’d never been one to back down from a challenge. She pulled free. “Back to Arthur Cotton,” she said, and pursed her lips.

  “Arthur’s a friend.” Griselda managed to keep a straight face, though I didn’t know for how much longer Arthur would remain a friend. He’d asked to speak to Griz in private a few days ago, but life had been busy, as had the restaurant.

  He wanted to ask her out on a date.

  “A friend.” More lip pursing and appraisal ensued.

  “Can I get you something to eat, Mona? We’ve got a special this week.”

  “What is it?” the woman asked, though she didn’t appear interested in burgers.

  “Jarvis has created the Double Cheese Burger.”

  “A cheeseburger.”

  “No, a Cheese Burger,” Griz replied. “He was adamant about that. He layers the sesame bun with two thick, juicy patties, grilled to perfection, with a total of four slices of Monterey Jack between ‘em.”

  My mouth watered. “Wow.”

  Even Mona swallowed. The gossip stalled on her tongue, and the scent of flame grilled meat drifted from the open kitchen window on cue. Jarvis whistled inside, no doubt whipping up his pre-brunch rush snack.

  The man never tired of burgers, and, the way he made them, I couldn’t blame him.

  “And that’s not all.” Griselda licked her lips. “It’s layered with sauces of your choice, barbeque, ketchup, mustard, you name it, and topped with pickles and fried onions.”

  “I’ll have one. Hold the onion and the embalmed cucumbers.” Mona picked up her scarf, shook it off then fastened it around her throat again.

  She had to be in her early forties, but the woman’s attitude spoke of years beyond that. It was as if she’d seen everything there was to see.

  “Coming right up.” Griz walked to the kitchen window and dinged the bell. “One Double Cheese Burger and hold the good stuff, Jarvis.”

  “Comin’ right up, mon,” Jarvis called back.

  I was tempted to ask Griselda to order one for me too, but I had a strict rule about eating during work hours. If I let myself, I’d eat one burger for every basket I served to the patrons, and that would end with me rolling out of the front doors at the end of every shift.

  “Don’t think you’ve distracted me with food, Griselda Lewis. I want the details. And you know I’ll get the details.” Mona clicked her claws on the countertop. “Now, would you like to present the facts or would you prefer it if someone else gave me a garbled version of the truth to disperse?”

  “Last I checked you weren’t a police officer, Mona. Nor a member of the press. Why do you have the right to disperse anything?” Griz asked.

  “This isn’t about rights.” Mona waved her hand as if the topic was an irritant. “It’s about delivering the right message to the right people. Folks in Sleepy Creek will want to know what happened. It would be a shame if they got the wrong idea. You know, like the idea that maybe the terrible two were involved in the murder of a young woman.”

  “That’s a load of hot trash, and you know it,” I said.

  Mona turned cool eyes on me. “I don’t know anything yet. Other than the fact that it’s a murder. Officially, it’s being called a murder. Oh, and I know that you two were there. You witnessed her death.”

  “This is fantastic mealtime talk,” I said.

  But the woman wasn’t deterred. “Another rumor has it that your
cousin, Jerry Lee, that he’s the one who killed her. Now, I always thought Jerry was kind of effeminate, you know? The kind who—”

  “That’s enough.” I slipped off the bar stool. “A woman passed this morning and all you care about is a scoop for your gossip circle. Some of us have work to do in here. You clearly don’t, unless you class being a Grade A nuisance as a job.”

  Mona stiffened. “Is this how you treat your customers Griselda? I heard this was what Loopy Paul went through before he died in your back yard.”

  She was unbelievable. A train that couldn’t be stopped, and, if we let her, she’d smash right into the back wall and ruin brunch.

  Jarvis ‘tinged’ the order in the window, and Grizzy hurried to fetch it. She slid it into place in front of Mona. “Order up,” she said.

  “It looks delectable.” Mona studied the burger. “Pity the atmosphere in here is so cold.” She got up and left her basket behind, the burger steaming delightful vapors. She paused halfway across the restaurant and looked back at us. “I don’t have to tell you you’ll regret this, Griselda.” And then she clanged out of the restaurant and into the spring air.

  “I’ve never been able to figure her out,” Griselda said. “She wants to gossip, but I’ve never understood why. Maybe it makes her feel powerful.”

  “Or maybe she’s pulling strings we can’t see.”

  “You’re just paranoid.” Griz gestured to the burger. “Why don’t you take that out back and finish it off? It’s not technically work hours if there’s no one to serve, right?”

  “You’re incorrigible.” But I didn’t argue. I took the burger and my thoughts outside.

  Possibilities swirled through my head, matched by an equal number of questions about my mother, about Haley’s death.

  I’d come to Sleepy Creek seeking peace and a bit of quiet. Sure, I might’ve had an ulterior motive regarding my mother’s case, but, at this rate, I would never get a moment of relaxation.

  I took a huge bite of the burger and consoled myself with the rich, wholesome flavors and the softness of that bun.