I scraped my jaw up off the floor and hoofed it over to Odel’s Diner on Smile Street just in time to see Laura walk in with Houston.
‘Thank you, Laura,’ I whispered from the sidewalk across the street as she glanced over. I gave them a few minutes to settle in so that my showing up wouldn’t look too conspicuous, too much like a setup. Trina Odel met me at the door. She greeted the customers on their way in and rang the register on their way out. ‘Table for one?’
I peered over her shoulder – pretty good crowd for a Thursday morning. I spied Laura and Houston at a four-top at the far side of the diner. ‘I see my friends.’ I waved. ‘I think I’ll join them.’ Laura was facing the door and spotted me right away. Houston had his back to me.
Trina grabbed a menu from the stack at her station and led me to Laura and Houston’s table. Trina is the Odels’ daughter. Her mom runs the counter and her father runs the kitchen. Trina was a good decade older than me, which meant her folks were getting up there but they managed to stay active in the restaurant seven days a week.
I couldn’t imagine how they kept up the pace. So far I’d been having a hard time sticking it out in the bakery seven hours a day, seven days a week. They probably put in ten hours a day each at the very least. I’d been in the diner several times. I waved to Mrs Odel who was waiting on customers at the long counter while Mr Odel manned the flat top fryer behind the window.
‘Why, Houston,’ said Laura, fluttering her eyelids, ‘look who’s here.’ Laura was no actress. That line sounded as stiff as a starched pair of poplin shorts.
Houston turned.
I laid on a smile. ‘Hi, mind if I join you?’
Houston half-rose but I waved him back down. I slid into the empty seat facing the street. I like to watch folks pass by. Houston squinted at me. He was dressed casually in jeans and a knit shirt. ‘The beignet lady, right?’
I nodded and held out my hand. ‘Maggie Miller.’
‘Houston Willoughby.’
‘I remember.’
A waitress came by to top off their coffee and asked if I wanted some too. I said yes and a full cup was quickly steaming under my nose.
‘Who’s minding the café?’ Houston asked.
‘Aubrey. She’s great.’ The way things were going I might have to give that girl a raise. As we waited for our orders I dove into the questioning. ‘Any word on your sister’s death?’ There was no point beating around the bush.
‘I heard they let that guy go that confessed.’ Houston brushed the front of his grey shirt.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Just a nut, I suppose,’ quipped Houston. ‘You get those. Nut jobs.’
‘Yeah, you do.’ Especially in Table Rock. And if he thought Clive was a nut what would he think of Johnny Wolfe if he met him? ‘Did your sister have anyone special in her life? A boyfriend?’ A boyfriend with anger issues?
The waitress dropped a three-egg omelet with whole-wheat toast in front of Houston, followed by two fresh strawberry-filled crepes for Laura and sourdough French toast for me. I poured a liberal dose of maple-flavored syrup over my toast from a plastic jug. I like my French toast to practically float in syrup – like a hovercraft over water.
Houston dumped ketchup over his eggs. ‘Lisa had lots of boyfriends.’ He smeared the ketchup around, shoveled the lot into his mouth then swallowed. ‘No one special, though.’ He shrugged. ‘At least, not that I know of.’
I nodded slightly. That seemed to be the popular opinion of Lisa Willoughby. What about Houston? Like sister, like brother? I wished I could ask him about the gun in Lisa’s purse but I’d have to explain how I knew about it.
‘I’m sure going to miss her. First Aunt Willow dies, then Lisa.’ His hand reached across the table and squeezed Laura’s. ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got someone to help me through this.’
Laura looked ready to bolt.
‘Laura’s a real trooper.’ I shot her a look that I hoped would keep her nailed to her seat.
Laura fought back. ‘You’ll never guess what happened, Maggie.’ She smiled but I detected a touch of evil behind those glistening eyes.
‘What’s that?’ I said, nonchalantly unrolling my napkin.
‘Someone broke into Lisa’s apartment last night.’
My elbow bumped the table sending coffee over the edge of my cup. I quickly dabbed at it with my napkin.
‘Isn’t that right, Houston?’
‘Yeah.’ Houston dropped his fork on his plate and folded his arms. ‘It’s the darnedest thing.’
‘Oh?’ I fiddled with my French toast, afraid to look him in the eye.
‘Yeah. It doesn’t appear that anything was taken.’
‘Then how do you know anyone had been inside?’ I swung my foot under the table, aiming for Laura’s leg but caught the table leg instead. My big toe pulsed with pain and I cursed myself for choosing open-toed sandals that morning.
Houston leaned his elbows on the table. ‘My laptop, for one thing.’
‘I thought you said they didn’t take anything?’ Thank goodness I’d let Johnny talk me out of it. Apparently, it hadn’t even been Lisa’s laptop.
‘I’d left it open when I went out to dinner. I was watching some baseball videos. When I went to bed later, I noticed the lid was closed and when I powered it back up it was on the desktop screen.’
‘Let’s think about this,’ I said. ‘Maybe there was some sort of a vibration, like an earthquake or something. The lid banged down and the computer rebooted itself.’ I coughed. ‘Or something …’
Houston seemed skeptical.
‘Houston wanted to call the police.’ Laura batted her eyes at me. ‘I told him it probably wasn’t worth the bother.’
I froze. Police? That would mean an investigation. That would mean fingerprints. ‘I agree with Laura. Sounds like a whole lot of trouble for nothing, especially since nothing was taken.’
Houston nodded and attacked his eggs. ‘I suppose I can afford to be generous.’
What did that mean?
Laura answered my unspoken question. ‘Houston was telling me that Willow Willoughby, his aunt, passed last weekend and has left him with a significant inheritance.’
Houston nodded. ‘It’s gonna be easy street from here on out.’
‘She left everything to you?’ I said between bites of dripping French toast.
‘Well, me and Lisa. But with Lisa gone …’
Houston Willoughby inherits everything. And he wasn’t making a secret of it.
I’d seen the hotel receipt in his suitcase. I knew he’d been staying for two nights in Prescott. Two days before Lisa was killed. Prescott is not far from Table Rock. That meant Houston had plenty of time to stalk Lisa, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself and then …
How was I going to question him about it? I couldn’t very well admit to snooping in his suitcase. While I gave the matter some thought, I continued the conversation. ‘So what line of business are you in?’
He smiled. ‘The restaurant business. I’ve got a two-hundred-and-fifty-seat place, plus bar.’
‘Down in Santa Fe?’
‘Yep. Right smack in the heart of downtown,’ he boasted.
‘That must be a lot of work. And quite an investment.’ I’d had a hard time funding and was having a hard time managing my one tiny beignet café.
He nodded vigorously. ‘I admit it was touch and go for a while. Only been open a year and a half.’ He bit the unbuttered end of a triangle of wheat toast. ‘But things are looking up.’ Suddenly his face clouded over and he choked.
At first I thought it was the dry toast but then I saw what he was looking at with nervous dark eyes. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms like a pair of pythons had come through the dining room and stood half-a-dozen yards away. He filled out a pair of black jeans and his black T-shirt was having a hard time keeping all those muscles locked in.
He nodded our way and I saw Houston smile, but he didn’t look happy.
‘Irwin!’ Houston didn’t bother standing. ‘What are you doing in Table Rock?’
Irwin? He looked more like a Butch. Or a Knuckles. The big guy loomed over the table like a total eclipse of the sun.
He rubbed one hand into the other. ‘Keeping an eye on my investment.’
‘Houston,’ I said, ‘aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?’
Houston sputtered an apology. ‘This is Maggie Miller and Laura Duval. Ladies,’ Houston waved toward the giant, ‘meet Irwin Acheson.’ Acheson’s bristly black hair put the buzz in buzzcut. His large ears stuck out like they’d been haphazardly pinned on and his nose was broad and flat.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Acheson,’ Laura said with a nod. Laura is ever so polite. Even in the face of deadly pythons.
‘Ladies.’ He cast a hard look at me, then Laura. His irises were silvery-gray, making him look more machine than man. He aimed his index finger at Houston. ‘You and me gotta talk.’
Houston nodded quickly. ‘Sure, Irwin.’ He studied the expensive-looking watch wrapped round his wrist. ‘Let’s meet up at my sister’s place around noon.’ Houston extended his arm. ‘It’s over on—’
The big guy signaled for him not to bother. ‘I know where it is.’ He turned on his heel and strutted away and out the door. Once out on the sidewalk, I saw him look through the glass at our table for a minute or two, his fists clenched. Then he disappeared from sight. I was glad to see him go.
‘That man is a friend of yours?’ I asked. I was still waiting for my heart rate to come back down into the normal range.
‘A business associate,’ Houston replied glibly. ‘I admit he’s a little rough around the edges.’
‘Rough around the edges?’ Laura repeated. ‘I’d say spooky.’
Houston pushed back his plate. ‘Irwin wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Was that a fact or was Houston hoping that was true?
Houston rose and fished his wallet from his back pocket. ‘I’m sorry, but if you girls will excuse me.’ He threw a few bills on the table. ‘I have an appointment with the solicitor handling Lisa’s estate.’
‘What possessed you to go out with Houston in the first place?’ I asked Laura when the two of us were alone at the table.
Laura shrugged. ‘I met him outside the condo building. I’d heard about Lisa, of course. I gave him my condolences and the next thing I knew he was asking me out.’ She drank some ice water. ‘I felt sorry for the guy.’
I looked around the crowded diner then leaned closer. ‘Don’t feel too sorry for him,’ I said in my best conspiratorial tone. ‘I think he might have killed his sister.’
Laura arched her back and pushed her hands against the table until it rocked. ‘You think he murdered Lisa?’
I nodded solemnly.
She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Yet you asked me to invite the man up to my condo last night?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘And then you asked me to call him up the very next morning like some crushing schoolgirl and invite him to breakfast?’ Laura’s voice really crescendoed there.
‘Well, yes, but—’ I started again and got no further than I had the first time.
Laura pushed back from her chair. She grabbed her purse, anchored it by its leather strap over her right shoulder and glared at me appraisingly. ‘You owe me,’ she began.
‘I know.’ I nodded eagerly – anything to appease her.
She tilted her head. ‘Free beignets.’
‘Done.’ I snapped my fingers.
‘And free coffee.’ She stared me down.
‘And done,’ I agreed readily.
She pressed her fists against her hips. ‘For life.’
Ouch. That was going to hurt.