A Side Order of Deception Read online

  A Side Order of Deception

  An Old School Diner Mystery

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  A Side Order of Deception

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2017 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.Constance Barker

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  The high-pitched beeps of a truck backing up came screaming into the Old School Diner.

  “Oh, my Lord,” Deloris grumbled from behind the counter, “what on earth is going on now? We’ve got all that noise from the construction across the alley out back, and now we have this earsplitting hullabaloo out in front.”

  The regular guys – Red, Jake, and Jake Junior – got up from their stools at the counter to look out the window, and I joined them there. Red is retired from the bourbon distillery, and Jake and Junior run the local construction company.

  “It should be over soon, Deloris,” I told her. “It looks like a cherry-picker is just getting in place to hang a sign over the empty storefront across the street, next to Brandi’s Donut Shop.”

  “Well, you better get used to a lot of ruckus around here. They’ll be starting to set up the Harvest Festival in the middle of the street here in two more weeks,” Red said, moving a bit slowly today and pulling his oxygen tank behind him on a little two-wheeler. “Our big, bustling two-block long downtown district is too important now to have their street blocked, so the council moved it here this year. I guess that makes us Paint Creek’s Uptown district now.”

  There were only 750 residents in the city limits, so that did get a laugh from the others. But there are a few thousand people in the apartments and housing developments by the distillery outside of town and in the surrounding farms.

  “Well, if the noise keeps up like this,” Deloris said, “that Harvest Festival might be the right time for me to take some of that vacation time I’ve been saving up for the last 25 years. Let’s see, 2 weeks a year...I guess I have about 50 weeks coming.”

  “Nice try, Deloris,” I said, a little concerned that she really would want to take some time off during the festival. “I pay you for an extra day every month and let you take time off whenever you want to – except during the festival, when there are a thousand people outside our door every day for two weeks.”

  Deloris is my tall, slim, and pretty waitress who handles the counter in my little café here in Paint Creek, Kentucky – oh, and she’s about 62. She came around to the large plate-glass window too and pulled some folding eyeglasses out of her trademark blonde beehive to look at the action. It was unusual for her to take an interest in anything going on outside, as she’s not usually the curious type.

  “I’ve been wondering what kind of shop is going in there,” she said. “What does the sign say? I hope it’s a little convenience store or maybe a drug store. That would be handy.”

  “I heard they just rented it for three months, from now through Christmas,” I told her. “I guess they just want to be here for the Harvest Festival and the holidays.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s a craft store or a candle shop,” Babs said, pausing near us with an armful of hot food. She’s our 50-ish short, round waitress who takes care of the tables and booths at the diner. “People always like to go to shops like that in the fall and around the holidays.”

  “This isn’t some hoity-toity suburban mall outside of Louisville, ladies. We don’t need foofy garbage like that here in Paint creek,” old Red said. “What we need is nice cigar shop with a few types of chewing tobacco you can’t get at the grocery store.”

  “Or a place that sells different kinds of 12-penny nails...and chewing gum,” Jake added, seriously.

  We looked at him with disbelief and amazement.

  “Yeah!” agreed Junior, the 25-year-old chubby clone of his father. “Or a comic book store where you can take a shower and recycle old soda cans.”

  Why didn’t I come up with that business plan? You might have noticed that Jake and Junior have their own special way of looking at the world.

  “You boys can dream on,” Deloris said as she headed back to the counter. “It looks like we’re going to have to wait a while to find out what kind of shop it is anyway. The sign is still wrapped in white plastic. They’re probably going to be selling some useless seasonal junk like Halloween costumes and Christmas decorations.”

  The truck stopped and began to raise the bucket on the end of its long robot arm. Two men were in the bucket, holding the large wooden sign that looked to be about three feet by six feet. It would go above the door, flat against the building. There was another worker on a ladder on each side of the doorway with power tools ready to fasten it to the wall.

  “What kind of shop are you hoping for, Mercy?” Babs asked me.

  I’m Mercy Howard, the proprietor. I’m 33 and moved back to Paint Creek two years ago when I got tired of working around the clock as an ER nurse in the city. My grandfather used to own this place when I was a little girl, and I always wanted to run the Old School Diner.

  “What kind of shop would I like? That’s easy, Babs,” I answered. “A spa! I would love to be able to run across the street after the breakfast rush every day and get a foot rub and a hot oil massage – and a facial every other Friday.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Deloris said with her eternal sunny optimism.

  “My hamburger should be done by now,” Junior said as the men leaned back on their stools, waiting for the unveiling of the sign. “What’s Smoke doing back there anyway?”

  Smoke is my 66-year old cook who is the heart and soul of the diner.

  Red didn’t usually have his oxygen tank with him, but his fall allergies were bothering him today. He took the tubes off as he chuckled. “I don’t think Smoke is doing anything back there, Junior.”

  He motioned toward the window, and we all looked out to see Smoke running down the middle of the street, in hot pursuit of a dog scampering in front of him with a bone.

  “Hehe, that is a good-sized bone for that little mutt,” Red said.

  It sure was. The bone was about two-feet long. The dog was not small, but he wasn’t that big either. He reminded me of Tramp from Lady and the Tramp.

  “Smoke must be real hungry if he wants to wrestle it away from that wiry street mutt. Come on Smoke! You can catch him!” Junior said.

  The dog seemed to be taunting and teasing Smoke as the pair ran around in circles in the street right in front of us for a while.

  “Get that dinosaur bone!” Junior encouraged the aging cook.

  I looked more closely as the dog toyed with Smoke, who had no chance of catching him, and I could see that it was no dinosaur bone. My medical experience told me otherwise.

  “My goodness!” I shrieked. “I’m pretty sure that’s a human femur!”

  Nobody seemed to care, as the dog took off down the street with Smoke still running behind him. Then the smell of burning food wafted in from the kitchen with small billows of grey
smoke not far behind.

  “I think your hamburger is done, Junior,” Red kidded. “I guess ol’ Smoke is still trying to earn his nickname. It looks he forgot all about your meat on the grill and went out to play with that dog.”

  Deloris came out of the kitchen with a shriveled up, black piece of meat on a plate. “Is that too well done for you, Junior?”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “That’s how they look when I cook them on the outdoor grill at home. I’ll just put a lot of ketchup on it.”

  “Give him a new one, Deloris,” I said. “We’ll save that one for the dog, if he comes back around.”

  “I’ll throw one on for you, Junior,” she said. “There’s no telling when Smoke will get back in here.”

  “Well, it’s just my afternoon snack between lunch and dinner,” he said, “so it’s okay if it takes a few minutes.”

  “Come and take a look, boys!” Babs said excitedly. “They’re peeling the plastic off the sign!”

  We all gathered around the window in eager anticipation. We gave each other a perplexed look as the image of a Gypsy woman appeared on the left side of the sign. Then we saw the name: Madame DuChayne’s Psychic Readings. Across the top of the sign, it said: Let me open the window to your soul... and at the bottom, it said Crystal Ball – Tarot – Palm Readings.

  I was in a stunned silence. Why on earth would someone set up a fortune telling shop in Paint Creek, Kentucky? A middle-aged woman, maybe about 40, stepped out of the shop to look at her sign. She saw all our faces in the window, and gave us a wave and a bright smile.

  Deloris looked out at the sign and shook her head. “She’s going to go broke. Who does she think is going to go to her shop to have their fortune read?”

  Before she was even done with her question, the front door opened and Jake and Junior were on their way across the street.

  “I guess that answers your question, Deloris,” Red said with his usual chuckle.

  “Well, all she has to do is tell them they’re going to be abducted by aliens, and she’ll get twenty bucks from each of them every day,” Deloris said.

  She was probably right about that.

  “Oh, hush now, Deloris,” Babs objected. “Junior might be a little conspiracy-minded, but my Jake isn’t...well...so bad.”

  Deloris rolled her eyes. “Well, I suppose you’re right, Babsy. Jake just builds castles in the clouds, but Junior lives in them.”

  Babs has had a crush on Jake for a long time, but he never gives her the time of day. He’s a few years younger than she is, but they actually do seem like they could be a good match. Since he lost his wife when Jake Junior was a toddler, Jake just doesn’t seem interested in dating or in anything besides ball peen hammers and chainsaws.

  “You should ask Jake out on a date sometime, Babs,” I suggested. “The Harvest Festival starts here on Friday, and they’re having the big Bluegrass Stampede in Salter’s Bluff the next two weekends. It’s the biggest rodeo in Western Kentucky. They do their county fair in October too to get all the people coming in for the rodeo. I heard Red and Junior saying that the bronco trials are this weekend for local cowboys. The big show is next weekend, I think, and stock car races the final weekend, on Halloween night. Lots of good movies are out right now too.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Mercy...” Then a light bulb seemed to light up in her head, and she got a look on her face that made it clear she was cooking up a scheme. Then she looked out the window.

  “Here come the boys, back again,” she said. “They’re bringing the lady with them. I guess she’s not open for business yet.”

  Smoke was sauntering back down the street too, looking dehydrated and pale. “Deloris...” She was one-step ahead of me and handed me a bottle of cold water. “I’ll go out and give this to him,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Jake and Junior were just stepping up on the sidewalk with our new neighbor when I went out the door, so I introduced myself. “Hi, neighbor! I’m Mercy Howard. I run this little place that you’ll be stopping by for lunch every day from now on!”

  She laughed. “I will for sure!” She was a pleasant-looking woman of about 40 with a few extra pounds on her hips and long dark hair framing her deep brown eyes. “I’m Maggie DuChayne. You probably won’t need your fortune read every day, but I give a pretty good foot massage, if you ever have a half hour to spare – and I can do some real magic with essential oils and aroma therapy too!”

  Dreams really do come true! “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other!” I responded just as Smoke approached our group in front of the door. “And this is our main man. Smoke is the best cook within a hundred miles. Smoke, this is Maggie.”

  They greeted each other and chatted when I noticed the dog slowly walked back up the street, with the bone still in his mouth. He was looking at us cautiously, but he definitely seemed like he wanted to get closer. The aromas coming from the kitchen exhaust vent probably attracted him. I really wanted to get my hands on that bone to see if it really was a human femur.

  The others all went into the diner ahead of me while I stayed and made eye contact with the mongrel. I stuck my head in the door. “Deloris, will you...”

  She was already there, handing me the burned hamburger.

  “It looks like we already have our own mind-reader in the neighborhood. Thanks!”

  I held out my hand with the treat toward the animal, which looked dirty and homeless. “Here, Tramp...here boy! Do you want some food? Huh?”

  I squatted down, and he trotted up to me. He stopped a few feet away and looked at me with his needy, frightened eyes. Would his hunger or fear win out? There was a mixture of fear and helplessness in his big eyes that melted my heart. I held the burger out on the palm of my hand. “Come on...!”

  He was right in front of me now. “Wanna trade? You can’t eat this yummy burger with that big bone in your mouth, Tramp. That old bone looks pretty dry and dirty anyway.”

  It was almost as if he understood me, and he seemed to nod as he looked at me with his soul-piercing eyes. He set the drool-drenched bone on the sidewalk in front of me and took the charred beef patty. He relaxed and ate enthusiastically, and he let me pet his head as if we were old buddies.

  “That’s a good boy, Tramp! Yes, you’re a good boy...but you really stink!”

  Chapter Two

  “Smoke,” I said as I sprayed the dirt and drool off the long bone in the sink, “why don’t you set out a plate of some nice leftovers for Tramp on the back step? I don’t think that dog has eaten for a week.”

  “You know me, Mercy,” Smoke responded as he plated Junior’s new burger and then scraped the charred mess off the grill from the burnt one. “I don’t have any scraps. Yesterday’s leftovers go into today’s soup. Maybe I can find something.”

  Deloris leaned through the pass-through window as she took Junior’s burger. “Why don’t you give him some of that gruel you call corn chowder, Smoke? It’s almost good enough for a dog.”

  Smoke shook his spatula at her and smiled. “Careful there, woman, or tomorrow’s special might be soup made from the bees in that nest on your head.”

  “The rat I keep in there already ate all the bees, Smoke.”

  I didn’t usually hear much of the good-natured banter between Smoke and Deloris, but they seemed to treat each other with the same grumpy humor they treated everyone else.

  “There’s some of yesterday’s turkey left – not enough to make soup with,” Smoke hollered from inside the walk-in cooler. “Is it okay if I give him that?”

  “Sure! Make sure there aren’t any bones in it. Bird bones are hollow and can have sharp edges when they break. And give him some water too!”

  “He’s a street, mutt, Mercy. He’ll eat anything.”

  I stared Smoke down as he came out of the cooler and shook my head.

  “Okay, Mercy. You’re the boss.”

  “And make a pancake for him too.”

  This time Smoke gave me a look. “I’ll just pull s
ome sausages and bacon out of the scrapings in the food-waste bin from breakfast.”

  “Okay. So, where did the dog get that bone, Smoke? And why were you chasing him?”

  “Dimitri had a few bones like that sitting outside the door to his office – you know that trailer back there. He says they dug them up when they tore down the old vacant houses out back and started digging the basement for the new row of townhouses. We thought they might be from some prehistoric animal or something. So, when that pooch snuck up and ran off with one, I figured I better follow him and try to get it back.”

  “Good thing you did – I’m going to check with Sylvia to make sure, but this looks like a human bone to me. Tell him to keep the other bones safe. I already called Brody and told him to come by with the medical examiner to look at them. They were together at a coffee shop in Calhoun, so they should be here soon.”

  Brody Hayes is the McLean County Sheriff and my boyfriend. Sylvia Chambers is the medical examiner for the county. Calhoun is the county seat seven miles up the road.

  “Will do, Merse,” Smoke said as he headed for the back door with a bowl of meat and a bowl of water for my new best friend. “I’m going to see if Dimitri wants to come over and taste the Stroganoff I’m making for dinner. He gave me his grandmother’s recipe. He usually eats lunch late anyway, so he’s probably hungry. And don’t start any fires while I’m out!”

  “Why not? Everybody will just blame it on you anyway.”

  He shook his finger at me and smiled as he went out the back door.

  Dimitri Premacat was the foreman of the demolition and excavation crew working out back. He always seemed to be angry for some reason, but Smoke enjoyed his company. They shared stories and recipes. He was getting the four lots behind the diner ready for the new townhouse project. The new streets they’re putting in have created interest in the old part of town again, and the national success of the new Wet Willie’s Genuine Kentucky Bourbon brand has created many new jobs in the distillery outside of town too. So, new people are moving into town, and Paint Creek is growing again – and hopefully my business will grow along with it!