Down Home and Deadly

sudden, he did. ”
    “And maybe you should mind your own business.”
    “Lisa, what was Larry so upset about earlier?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Since when is my relationship with my husband your business?”
    “I . . . ” It really wasn’t often that I was at a loss for words.
    “Look. Thanks for stopping by, but I’ll get Daddy to hire a professional. Someone who can prove that I’m innocent. Not an amateur sleuth that got lucky a couple of times.” She wiggled her fingers. “So , see ya.”
    “Right. Well I have to go to work now.” I gritted my teeth and counted to ten as I walked out the door , taking care not to slam it.

Chapter Six

    Happier’n a dead pig in the sunshine

    “Jenna, can you call Susan and see if she can come in today?” Carly stirred a steaming pot of soup
and nodded toward the list of waitress’s phone numbers on the wall by the phone
. “ Alice called. She and Harvey won’t be in , so I had to put Marco as host.” She turned toward me. “I hope he can do it. Do you think he can?”
    “Sure. Leading people to a table should be easier than taking orders and delivering food.” I reached back to tie the apron around my waist. “Are Harvey and Alice sick?”
    “ Alice said John asked Harvey to come by the station and answer some questions.” She dipped some of the soup into a small bowl and blew on it. “ Alice sounded really upset. She said she was going with him.” Carly sipped a spoonful of the liquid and frowned. “Taste this.”
    “Wonder what they wanted with Harvey ?” I stared at the soup. That conversation I’d overheard between Harvey and Alice the night of the murder had not been about soup. The question was, what had it been about?
    “I’ve no idea. But I guess you’re going to try and find out.” Carly added some garlic powder to the pot of soup . “I don’t think John will tell you.”
    I ignored her allusion to my curiosity and called Susan who agreed to come in and do an earlier shift. When I hung up, I quickly got into my apron and hit the floor running.
    “Welcome to Down Home Diner, m a’am.” Marco ’s voice floated to the table where I was writing an elderly couple’s order. I glanced up in time to see a flamboyantly dressed woman pat Marco ’s cheek.
    Her voice didn’t float . I t trumpeted across the packed diner. “Well, s weet t hing, you can welcome me anytime, anywhere.”
    Marco blanched, grabbed a menu, and fairly raced to an empty table in my section.
    “Your waitress will be right with you.” He wiped his brow and headed back to the front of the diner, making strange grimaces in my direction. I assumed he meant, “We’ve got a live one here.” I finished the order I was taking and excused myself.
    As I walked to the table, I studied the new arrival. She was one of those people who se age isn’t readily apparent, but I guessed her to be somewhere in her forties. Her jet black hair was teased within an inch of its life and piled high on her head. Her eyes were so heavily mascaraed I was surprised she could blink. More noticeable was her dress, or lack thereof. We had the standard N o S hoes , N o S hirt , N o S ervice sign on our door. We might need to revise that.
    She had on a skirt and a top, of sorts. The white top was the scantiest of halters , and the skirt, black leather, was short enough to qualify as micro-mini. Her white boots were straight out of the sixties. Beside her brilliantly red lips was a beauty mark. A tattooed snake crawled up her right arm and coiled lovingly around her neck. As I approached the table, she gave me a cheerful grin.
    “Welcome to Down Home Diner. What can I get you to drink?” I gave her m y standard opening as I pulled my order pad and pencil from my pocket.
    “I’ll have a beer in a bottle. The best you’ve got. I’m celebrating.”
    “Sorry, m a’am. This is a dry county. We don’t serve alcoholic beverages. But we have really good sweet tea or lemonade.”
    “What kinda b u rg have I landed in?” she asked loudly. “A gal can’t even get a drink?” She lowered her voice slightly, “C’mon, s weet c akes, I know you got the good stuff stashed somewheres. Just bring it in a tea glass. I won’t rat you out. It ain’t every day your ship comes in, but mine did , and I aim to celebrate.”
    “I’m really sorry. We don’t have anything alcoholic on the premises. But our tea is worth celebrating. Tell you what . I’ll bring you a glass on the house. If you