Biscuits and Slashed Browns Read online

  He glanced at the glass in the front door. We stood in full light where anyone passing by could see us.

  “Turn off the lights,” he barked. He pointed with his chin to the switch on the door. “Now.”

  I reached out and flipped off the switch. All the fairy lights went dark, and all the overheads. The lamp on my desk remained lit, as did the EXIT signs and the illumination inside the drinks cooler, but my hope went dark, too. Nick forced me away from the door and back next to the kitchen counter. I desperately wished my fantasy visitors were going to swoop in and rescue me for real. They weren’t, but he didn’t know that. The South Lick Police might, if they ever got here.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re planning, but a dozen people are going to be here any minute now,” I went on in my most convincing voice. I struggled to keep the tremble of terror out of it. “Including three athletes. Why don’t you let me go and leave before they arrive? I never believed you did anything wrong.” Except threaten me with a lethal tool.

  “As if,” he scoffed. “No, I finally got rid of that scum Connolly, and I’m not letting you get in the way of my new life.” He gazed at me without blinking.

  I was right. He’d killed the professor. Did I have any hope at all? I needed to act before he killed me. I had to do something. Soon.

  “What did Connolly ever do to you?” I asked.

  He glanced away for a moment, then looked at me again. The auger shook with his intensity. “It was what he did to my mother. He wrecked our lives, evicting us from our apartment just so he could convert it into a condo and make even more money. It didn’t matter to him Mama was sick, dying as it turned out, and had a ten-year-old kid to take care of. We were homeless for a while. And then I was homeless by myself after she passed.” It wasn’t too dark to see the hatred blazing in his face as he stared at me.

  “That’s awful.” It must have been. When I thought of my own happy childhood, the contrast with how Nick’s must have been pierced me almost worse than the point in my neck.

  “You don’t know the half of it. The man was evil.” He hissed the word. “I’ve been tracking him for the past few years. When I saw Rao push him, when Connolly hit his head on the rock, I realized it was the perfect setup. Woke him up and got him to get into his rental car. Said I’d drive him to the hospital.” He snorted. “But that’s not where I took him.”

  Nick had driven him to his death, instead. Had he killed him in the rental after he drove him to the Rao farm? Probably, then dragged him behind the woodpile.

  “I don’t care who gets blamed as long as it’s not me,” Nick went on. “I get away scot-free.”

  “You still can. Head out now. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Right.” His laugh was laden with scorn. He shook his head. “It was a perfect setup until you came along.” He glanced at the big wall clock. “And it looks like your little friends are late. Maybe the party’s a lie. I believe you made up the whole conversation, that and the story of your friends’ perfectly timed visit.”

  “No, they’re on their way,” I asserted in my firmest, most positive tone. “They must have run into an accident or something.” My positivity was belied by my numb feet, the ice in my gut.

  “I don’t think so, Robbie Jordan.”

  The auger’s tip, aimed at the pulse point on my carotid artery, felt sharper. The shorter twisty end pierced the fabric of my shirt, stinging my shoulder. I was going to bleed—a lot. That was why he wore a grungy thrift store raincoat, so he could discard it afterward like he discarded human lives.

  I don’t know how to pray. Instead I girded myself, physically and mentally, and pictured Mom’s face. She was the closest I got to goodness and light. I was not going to let him kill me. I was not. “So why didn’t you kill the professor in Boston? Why move all the way out here?” I tried not to wince at the increasing pain. I forced myself not to show weakness.

  Nick waited so long to speak I was startled when he did.

  A loud, mirthless “Ha,” was followed by, “I wanted to get Warren off his guard. Out of familiar territory.”

  “How did you know he was coming to the maple conference?”

  His gaze turned into a flared-nostril stare. “Why all the questions? You don’t imagine you’re getting out of here alive, do you? It’s about time to end this conversation. I have plans and you’re not part of them.” A rivulet of sweat tracked down his temple.

  I felt the moisture on his hand clenching my arm through my sleeve. The pressure on my neck wobbled. The handle of the auger slipped in his fingers and he lost his leverage. The auger’s point slid off my neck. He tried to adjust his grip but kept his other hand grasping my arm so tightly, he had only the one hand for the foot-long handle of the auger. He couldn’t manage it. He let go of my arm to support the auger and adjust his hold.

  This was my only chance. I ducked away. I snatched the pastry cutter out of the bowl and grabbed the wide handle with both hands, raising it above my head in one fast move. I raked the sharp edges down over his face with all my might. He yelled as he dropped the auger. It thunked onto the floor.

  “What did you do to me?” he screamed, both hands covering his face. Red blood stained the white flour on his hands like a ghastly Christmas cookie dough.

  My own nerves were too much for me. I lost hold of my improvised weapon and the pastry cutter clattered to the ground. I tore my hair clip out of my hair and slashed the serrated knife edge at his neck, making him scream again.

  I dashed for the front door. I burst through, not closing it behind me, racing as fast as I could. I didn’t stop sprinting until I rounded the first corner toward downtown. I ducked out of the rain under a quilt shop awning, my heart thudding. I dragged out my phone and pushed 911.

  “A murderer is at Pans ’N Pancakes!” I panted. “This is Robbie Jordan. Nick Mendes tried to kill me.” I started to run again, ignoring the voice coming out of the phone in my hand, the stitch in my side, the tightness in my lungs. I aimed for the first fully lit storefront I saw, a pizza place with late-night hours.

  I’d nearly made it to safety when two cruisers came blazing toward me, lights and sirens live and strobing. Finally. The second one screeched to a stop, so I did, too. The passenger window zipped down. Buck, alone in the vehicle and wearing a bulky vest, leaned over from the driver’s seat.

  “Robbie! You all right?” He examined me with a keen but kind gaze.

  “Yes,” I wheezed, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I was so not a sprinter. “Nick Mendes . . . attacked me . . . in the store.” The words rushed out in breathless spurts. “I managed to hurt him. He might still be there.”

  “Gun?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Buck spoke terse words into his radio, then listened to something. “I gotta get to the scene. They’re about to go in.”

  “In there.” I pointed to the pizza parlor. “I’ll wait in there.”

  “Got it. Go.” He didn’t wait for me to straighten before speeding away.

  I pulled open the door of the pizza shop. The comfort smells of warm crust, garlicky tomato sauce, and spicy sausage had never been so welcoming.

  Chapter 38

  Half an hour later I sat by Abe’s side in a booth at Strom and Pete’s, as locals called South Lick Stromboli and Pizza. I didn’t know if Buck and his officers had successfully apprehended Nick, so I’d chosen a seat with my back to the rear wall where I could watch the door. The last thing I needed was to be seated facing away from a murderer on the loose.

  I’d phoned Abe once I made it safely inside the restaurant. I’d desperately wanted to be with someone I loved, and soon. Plus I didn’t have a dime on me. I wasn’t eager to explain my situation to Joe, the fabulous Greek guy who owned and ran the shop, one of South Lick’s institutions.

  I was almost distracted from thoughts of how I got here, however, with what had just arrived in front of us. A foot-long stromboli cut in half steamed in the most inviting of
ways. It sat next to a frosty pitcher of beer and a bunch of extra napkins. Crumbles of sausage dribbled out of both ends of the sandwich and pickle slices nestled in the paper-lined basket. The long crusty roll had been dipped in marinara sauce and the melted cheese on top glistened. It was a classic Midwestern strom all the way. A plate of skinny fries beckoned just beyond the sandwich. Except my stomach was clenched into a triple-tied knot from my close call with death.

  Abe covered my hand with his warm callused one, the rough skin oddly comforting. “Are you going to be able to eat?”

  I twisted to gaze at him. “I don’t know. Thank you for coming.” I swallowed down the quaver in my voice and nodded toward the glass front of the restaurant. “Do you think we’re safe?”

  He nudged my arm. “You left the guy seriously hurt and you saw two police cruisers a block away heading toward him. I believe we’re safe. But let me check.” He worked his phone for a minute, then showed me the screen. “Apprehended and in custody. South Lick Police Facebook page.”

  “Thank goodness.” I slumped, like a balloon of tension inside me had just been deflated.

  “Robbie, you know . . .” Abe’s voice trailed off as it filled with emotion. He swallowed it down. “You being in danger again is the worst thing I can imagine, other than my boy getting into similar trouble.” He managed a smile. “And Sean doesn’t make a habit of trying to solve murders.” He poured two glasses of beer, handing me one and lifting his own. “But you made it, and that’s all that counts. Cheers, sweetie.”

  Now my own throat thickened with feeling. He’d never used that endearment with me before. The intimacy of the word warmed me to my toes. I raised my glass, clinking it with his. “Cheers.” I took a sip, which went down just fine. Maybe I could eat, after all.

  We were each a couple of bites into our respective halves of the messy, greasy, perfect dinner when Adele burst into the restaurant.

  “Land sakes and stars above, I’m glad you’re safe, Roberta. I heard on the police scanner, called Buck, got over here as quick as ever I could.” She delivered a kiss to my forehead and plopped into a chair across from us. “Joey, be a dear, now and bring me a glass, would you, hon?” she called to the owner.

  Adele had caught the attention of the dozen other patrons, but once they saw who it was, they returned to their own meals. Everybody knew Adele. I’d filled Abe in on the general story of what had happened, but now I had to do it all over again for my aunt. I kept my voice down. I had no interest in sharing the details with all of tonight’s diners.

  “I don’t even know what I’d been thinking, to have that lethal device lying around on a shelf,” I murmured after I’d laid out the basics. “Thompson was right. He told me I should have had the sugar auger locked away in a display case.” Along with all my other non-OSHA-approved antique bladed devices.

  Joe brought a glass. After Adele filled it, she asked, “Why’d he come after you today, do you imagine? You been snooping around asking questions for most of a week, haven’t you?”

  “I have. I’m not sure why he picked today.” I raised a shoulder and dropped it. “Maybe seeing me heading in to talk to Christina set him off.”

  “Or maybe he’d already set today as the exit point in his get-out-of-town plan and had to take care of you, as he put it, before he left.” Abe tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

  My strom had been halfway to my mouth, but I set it down again as the hairs on my arms stood up and goose bumps pricked my scalp.

  “How’d you manage to get away?” Adele asked. “That is, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

  I gazed at her kind, tough, caring face. Abe hadn’t asked, probably wanting to spare me reliving the scene. I took a deep breath. “It was kind of a close one. Remember the big pastry cutter we saw when you and I first visited the store? Before we even knew the property was for sale?”

  “Sure.” Adele whistled. “Mean son of a tool, that thing. Them blades are sharper than Hannah’s rival’s tongue.”

  Having no idea who Hannah or her rival were, but imagining they were Biblical characters, I went on. “Well, it came in handy tonight. As did the knife on my multi-tool hair clip, Abe. Between those two, and Nick’s arm getting tired of holding the auger one-handed at a weird angle, it was enough for me to get away.” I patted my pants pocket for the clip. When I’d paused in my escape to call 911, my hand had still clutched the multi-tool in a death grip. Almost literally. I’d let it slip into my pocket so I could make the call with two hands. I didn’t know if I’d broken the skin on Nick’s neck with the serrated edge of the clip, and frankly I could wait a few days before checking for blood on the blade’s teeth.

  “You’re a brave cookie, hon.” Adele reached across and patted my hand.

  “I’ll say.” Abe rubbed his arm against mine.

  “I don’t know about being brave. I also don’t know how I keep getting involved in situations where I even have to be brave.”

  “Hey, we got to stretch the old envelope once in a while, Robbie, dear,” Adele said. “You wouldn’t want to stagnate just flipping pancakes, now would you?”

  Abe laughed. “I cannot imagine a stagnant Robbie under any conditions.”

  I nibbled a corner of the strom. “I’m really glad the whole Rao family is innocent. Of murder, anyway.” Even if Turner wasn’t speaking to me. I hoped the police would go easy on his mom about the drug business, help her with her father’s condition. The Raos had been through a lot.

  “Yes, indeedy.” Adele bobbed her head. “And now we know Sonia Genest isn’t guilty, either. She’s too smart a girl to go around killing people.”

  “Didn’t you say Sonia had been flirting with Nick? With a murderer?” Abe asked me. “That doesn’t seem to be a particularly intelligent move.”

  “It looked like a lot more than flirting to me.” I said. “But hey, I saw them together after the professor was killed. I don’t think she was his accomplice or anything.”

  “Old Oscar’ll find out if she was,” Adele said.

  “You’ve called him Oscar since the start. How do you know him?” I asked.

  “I’m pals with his sister’s cousin’s wife down to French Lick.”

  I smiled. My aunt could make friends with the leader of North Korea if she set her mind to it. “You ought to teach a course on networking. Zuckerberg’s got nothing on you.”

  “Might be I will.” Adele sipped her beer and set it down. “I sure as heck hope Buck and friends got to your store in time to apprehend that awful man.”

  “Abe said they did, although I don’t know what took them so long after I texted for help. But here come the details.” I pointed to the door, through which Buck had just wandered.

  Adele twisted to look. Buck hung his hat on the coat rack and moseyed over to sit next to Adele. “Howdy, folks. Can I have what they had?” he called to the counter, pointing to our half-demolished meal. “Minus the beer, that is.”

  “So?” I couldn’t help but ask. “What happened?”

  “We got him. Fact his face was scraped rawer than a piece of fresh-butchered pig helped considerably.” At my cringe and Adele’s scowl, he backtracked. “Pardon me, ladies. How about, fact Robbie here was brave enough to counterattack helped considerably. That better?”

  “Thanks,” I said, but a shiver rippled through me at the image.

  “No sirreebob, he idn’t goin’ nowhere.” Buck helped himself to a few of our fries. “The idiot was on the front porch trying to make his escape but we got there in time. You all right, Robbie?”

  “I guess. Now I am, anyway.” I blew out a big breath. “Why did it take so long for you guys to show up? I had called you about seeing somebody lurking, and after Nick threatened me I texted 911. It was risky, but I managed to do it. Don’t text messages go through?”

  Buck shook his head with a baleful look. “Sorry about that. Dispatch came down with some stomach thing. She was in the head upchucking and the rest of us was plum scrambling.�
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  Tonight had been one of the closest calls of my life. Even though Maple Mania might still be going on in the county, the mania of being attacked by a determined killer was over. And hey, what had Abe said a few days ago? All’s well that ends well.

  Chapter 39

  By Saturday the memory of Nick threatening me with the auger was less sharp, more faded, even though it had happened only last Wednesday. Knowing he was behind bars went a long way toward making me feel safe. The rest of life was back to normal, too, or almost. Sonia hadn’t argued with anyone out front recently, and if anything, business was booming with townspeople and tourists eager, in a ghoulish kind of way, to be close to the scene of a crime. While Turner hadn’t returned to work, Danna’s ankle was healed enough for her to resume kitchen duty wearing a brace. We were doing fine.

  Danna and I were munching our way through our lull-time snack at around ten-thirty Saturday morning when Turner pushed through the front door jangling the cowbell. His mom and dad followed close behind.

  I stood and smiled, swallowing down not only my bite of omelet but also a touch of nerves. Were the Raos still angry with me? Would Mona continue to accuse me of meddling in her business? Or were they here with a desire to make peace, to smooth over their own bad memories? I had reached out one more time, calling their house the day after the nightmare with Nick, but Mona had again hung up on me. I hadn’t had the nerve to push any harder.

  Or maybe they were just hungry.

  Sajit and Mona hung back, appearing a bit nervous themselves. I was glad to see that Sajit looked a heck of a lot better than the last time I’d seen him, once again dressed in his pressed Oxford shirt and a fleece vest. Turner made straight for Danna and me.

  “Yo, Turn-man.” Danna greeted him. “Thanks for saving my . . . uh, Robbie’s bacon, so to speak. You were cool.”

  I’d finally gotten a chance to fill her in on what she’d missed by staying home to ice and elevate her ankle. Turner and Danna exchanged a hand slap and a complicated handshake that ended in a knuckle bump.