Mind-Bending Murder Page 16

  "What can I get ya?" A red-faced, heavyset woman with light brown hair pinned up in a bun smiled at me. She had to be in her fifties. Her nametag said Ella. This was the owner?

  "What do you recommend?" I asked.

  "The meatloaf. I make the best meatloaf in the state." Her pen hung in midair over her pad.

  My stomach rumbled in agreement. "Ok, that sounds good. Is the food here better than Ela's?"

  Ella scowled. "You're damn right it is! That idiot couldn't pour ketchup out of a bottle without burning it."

  "It's kind of strange," I continued with no regard for my own safety. "That you have two competing restaurants with the same name."

  The woman wrote on her notepad. "Yeah, well, that's what you get in this business. Just when you think things are going well—Bam!" She slammed her hand on my table, making me jump. "Some kid comes along and thinks they can do it better!"

  I put on my most sympathetic face. "That sucks. So you've been here a long time?"

  Ella stuffed the pen and pad in her apron. "Thirty-two years. And that fraud across the street has only been here five."

  "You have my sympathies," I said.

  The woman responded by sitting down across from me.

  "That's nice of you since you aren't from around here. But I do know who you are. You're that woman they think killed Tyson."

  I decided not to deny it. "That's right. But I didn't kill him. No matter what Pastor Malone says."

  She cocked her head to the right. "Do you think, if you go to prison for the crime, you could give me an endorsement? That cow across the street would faint if she thought I had the endorsement of a murderer."

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you," I said firmly. "But I didn't kill him."

  Besides. I'd like to try the food first.

  "Who do you think killed him?" I asked.

  Ella's expression grew stormy. "Hell, I'd have done it if I could've gotten away with it. You did a service to this town by taking him out."

  I fought the urge to insist on my innocence. "Why's that?"

  "He was a bad seed. He robbed businesses, including his own store. He was rude and obnoxious. And I'm sure he would only have gotten worse if you hadn't killed him."

  I sighed. "I didn't kill him."

  Ella struggled to get to her feet. "Whatever. Your meatloaf will be up soon."

  As she walked away, I looked across the street again. A much younger, thinner woman was waiting tables there. So that was Ela. Maybe I'd go there for dessert after interviewing Elrond.

  In the meantime, I needed to think about the break-in at the church. I really should've confronted the men. Then I'd know who they were. However, if they'd had guns and I wasn't able to disarm them, well, I'd have died for nothing.

  The big question was if Kurt was involved. The kid seemed to know everything about this town. And he was under my feet half the time. Could he be smarter than I'd given him credit for? Was he just following me around to stay one step ahead of the investigation?

  The theory had some merit. The problem with it was that if it was correct, what did Kurt hide in the Chapel of Despair? It had to be something valuable. That didn't necessarily mean something physical. It could be information.

  Argh! All of this was a stretch. Connecting him to the Chapel was tenuous. Was I going off the rails into crazy town just to dodge the rap? Yeesh. I was starting to think like Betty now. I filed this information away mentally and waited for my food.

  Sure enough, I didn't have long before a plate with meatloaf and mashed potatoes appeared next to me. Ella lingered, so I took a bite.

  "Oh wow! This is fantastic!" I said between mouthfuls.

  It really was. Meatloaf is one of those Midwest staples. You'll find hundreds of different recipes in Iowa alone. And this one was possibly the best I'd ever had.

  Ella softened. "Thanks."

  I was so busy devouring my lunch that I didn't even notice she'd wandered away. I moaned with each mouthful, rolling my eyes. It was that good.

  "Are you okay?" Kurt sat in the seat Ella had occupied earlier.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked. And how strange that I'm thinking of the guy and he shows up right here, right now.

  He looked at me curiously. "You're not very bright, are you? I told you…I'm sticking to you like glue so that I can bring you in when you run."

  I thought about stabbing him with my fork. "Considering that I've told you repeatedly that I have zero interest in running, it seems like you're the not very bright one."

  Kurt shrugged. "So what's next?"

  Maybe he could be useful. "Tell me about Elrond."

  "Oh, that's easy. He's this guy who's into comics and opened his own shop."

  "I know that," I said through clenched teeth. "What else can you tell me about him?"

  "Well." Kurt tapped his chin. "He's lived here all his life…like everybody else here. After he graduated from high school, someone died and left him money, and he opened up the shop."

  "Is his name really Elrond?"

  Kurt nodded. "He changed it a few years back. He doesn't use a last name, but it's Anderson if you need to know."

  "Did he know Tyson?"

  "I didn't know Tyson. But maybe? A lot of guys hang out in that shop. And Tyson was in the Nerd Herd at Best Bye."

  I speared the last bite of meatloaf. "I'm going to Elrond's next—since you need to know where I am at every moment."

  "I can go with you." Kurt brightened.

  I thought about this as I polished off the potatoes. "Why not?" There wasn't really a reason not to. Besides, maybe if there were other people in there, Kurt could draw them off so that I could talk to Elrond alone.

  "Alright, kid. Give me a few minutes to pay my bill, and then we're out of here."

  Elrond's smelled like paper and dust. The shop was dimly lit and the shelves stocked with a dizzying array of comics and graphic novels.

  A tall, skinny man, maybe in his midtwenties, stood behind the counter. He had long, thin, stringy hair hanging limply over his shoulders. The pale skin told me he didn't get out into the sun much. This kid might be a good recruit for the druids. Would Stewie give me $25 for recruiting him, or was the Bird Goddess exempt?

  "Hi," I called out brightly. "You must be Elrond. Do you have any Wonder Woman comics?"

  The kid froze, staring at me. He didn't respond.

  "They don't get many women in here," Kurt whispered.

  I could see that.

  "Are you alright?" I approached the counter, and he backed up nervously.

  Kurt stepped forward. "Dude! You're making a bad impression on my bail jumper."

  It shows how magnanimous I was that I didn't immediately fashion a comic book into a shiv and impale him. I could've done that. You can make a lethal weapon out of just about anything. But I didn't. And I'm kind of proud of that.

  Elrond snapped out of it. "Fine. You want Wonder Woman? I don't usually stock it."

  Was this sexism? How could you be a comics shop and not have Wonder Woman? "Why not?"

  He shrugged. "I don't get a lot of call for it here."

  That's when I noticed his skinny bicep with a tattoo of Lance Armstrong as a Native American chief.

  "Nice ink." I pointed at his arm.

  Elrond frowned. "I didn't want that one. Bear insisted. Even gave it to me for free." He rolled up the sleeve of his other arm. "This is my favorite. It's Beetle Dork. You're probably too old to know who that is."

  "You might be surprised," I mumbled as I looked closer. Sure enough, it was the entire cover of the first edition.

  "It's pretty cool since it's all about Harold and all." Elrond gave a weak smile.

  "Yeah." I narrowed my eyes. "I'm familiar."

  "That's because she's Beetle Dork." Stewie and Mike emerged, hidden by the stacks, and pointed at me.

  Elrond did not seem convinced. "That's not funny, guys. You're just saying that because you own the rights."

  "It's the truth," Mik
e said. "That's Merry Wrath Ferguson. She's Beetle Dork."

  For some reason, I felt I had to explain. "Not because I wanted to be, that's for sure."

  "That's so cool!" Elrond's face opened up into an almost pleasant expression. "Wait." His face fell. "Did he say Wrath? You're the chick who murdered Tyson!"

  "No." My hands curled into fists. "I didn't kill Tyson."

  But Elrond continued as if I hadn't said anything. "He was one of my best customers!" He waved limply at Mike and Stewie. "Except for these guys."

  "I didn't kill Tyson," I reiterated.

  "Bird Goddess," Stewie sniffed authoritatively, "wouldn't kill anyone."

  "Wait." Elrond did a cartoon doubletake. "You are Beetle Dork, you killed Tyson, and you are these guys' cult's Bird Goddess?"

  "It's not a cult!" Stewie's voice went up about fifty decibels.

  "Two of those three are correct," I said. "I did not kill Tyson Pancratz."

  The four of us stared at each other. Stewie wiggled his eyebrows at me, intimating that we were somehow communicating with our minds—although what we were saying was a secret to me. Mike shrugged and went back to the stacks.

  "Okay," Elrond said at last. "We don't have Wonder Woman though."

  "Why not?" Betty shouted from the doorway, with Inez hot on her heels.

  "Because no one buys it." Elrond rolled his eyes.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked the girls as they walked over to me.

  "Buying comics," Inez said. "Same as you."

  "You know," Kurt said. "You've never had this many women in here at once."

  Elrond's eyes shot daggers at him, but then he seemed to reconsider and finally nodded as a way of giving in.

  "Why don't you have comic books written about girl superheroes?" Betty stepped forward.

  "Yeah!" Inez crossed her arms over her chest.

  "I guess I could order some…" he offered, hoping no one would ask.

  "No! It's too late," Betty snapped. "What we really want to know is, why did you kill Tyson Pancratz?"

  I stared at her. "This guy did it?"

  A responsible adult would've dismissed the child's ranting. But I wanted someone else to take the heat, so I was interested.

  "I didn't do it!" Elrond's hooded eyes opened wide. "What makes you think I did it?"

  Betty leaned back. "I have my reasons."

  "And they are?" Kurt asked curiously.

  Betty stuck her tongue out. "I don't have to tell you."

  "I didn't do it!" Elrond blustered. "Sure, I was here that night, and sure, it happened not far from here, but it wasn't me!"

  That caught my attention. "Did you see anything?"

  He shook his head so hard that he became dizzy and stumbled a bit. "No! I told Vanderzee that!"

  "Do you have video footage of that area?" Inez asked.

  We all gasped and looked at her. It hadn't occurred to anyone else to ask.

  "Um." He looked up and to the left. "Only of the alley. But The Opera House blocks my view of the Pump & Pawn."

  "You do?" I turned to him. "You have footage?"

  Elrond didn't seem to know how to answer. "Yeah. Probably. Maybe?"

  "Did you hand it over to the cops?" Stewie asked.

  "No. They didn't ask when they interviewed me. But remember, I can only see the alley out back. I can't see the shed."

  We were already coming behind the counter. Elrond had no choice but to allow us into his back room, where we stopped cold.

  "No Wonder Woman! You're a dirty, rotten fink!" Betty stomped. "I should plug you, but I gassed my heater. Your lucky day, bub!"

  The noir speak was back.

  It was true. The office was papered, floor to ceiling, with images of Wonder Woman.

  "Don't touch that!" Elrond ran over to Betty, who had picked up a coffee mug that said, Wonder Woman's BFF. There were figurines of the superheroine scattered across every surface.

  "I think this is my favorite." Kurt winked and gestured to a picture.

  On the desk was an 8"x10" framed photo of Elrond in Wonder Woman drag. The costume hung limply on his skinny frame, but he made up for it with enthusiasm as he smiled broadly with both thumbs up.

  "Forget about that." I brushed it all off. "Show us the footage from the night of the murder."

  "What time did it occur?" Inez asked.

  "The coppers squealed," Betty said. "Pops Malone said this dame dusted the lug in the shed around two in the morning."

  With a heavy sigh, Elrond sat in his Wonder Woman upholstered desk chair and turned on his Wonder Woman laptop. He clicked on an icon labelled The Secret Diaries of Diana Prince and pulled up the footage for the night of the murder at two in the morning.

  "Back it up to 1:30," I insisted. "And run it through three a.m."

  Betty pushed the man out of the chair. "Scram, ya rube. I'll be the gumshoe."

  She found the right time stamp and fast-forwarded. There was no traffic.

  "If you came in through the front parking lot or exited out the other end of the alley," Elrond said, "we wouldn't see you. It's a one in three chance that I caught you on camera."

  "I. Didn't. Do. It," I said through clenched teeth.

  At 2:05 a.m., a car raced down the alley in the direction we were looking for.

  "Back it up!" Inez insisted.

  But Betty was already on it. She found the vehicle, froze the frame, and blew it up.

  "What's he doing there?" Kurt wondered.

  Bryce Vanderzee was in a black sedan driving down the alley. In the front seat next to him was a shadowy figure we couldn't make out.

  Stewie squeaked, "That puts the police chief at the scene of the crime at the right time."

  "Yes, but we don't know if that's just a coincidence. Maybe he was driving around town. Malone said he saw me at two. This is a few minutes later."

  Kurt leaned closer to the monitor. "If Vanderzee did it, he could've scared Malone into falsely accusing you."

  I pointed at the screen. "Who's in the front seat? Is that Tyson?"

  The image was too dark and murky. It was impossible to tell. "That's why the chief didn't ask you for your footage. He knew he was in it."

  Inez nodded. "And hoped you were too stupid to even think of it."

  "Vanderzee is scary," Elrond said with a shudder.

  "He's just loud and obnoxious," I dismissed.

  "No, he's, like, really scary," Elrond insisted. "There's rumors about him and stuff."

  That was interesting. "Like what?"

  Kurt spoke up. "There have been rumors for years that he's tried to shake down people."

  "Blackmail?" I asked. Oooh! That was a great motive!

  "I don't know." Kurt seemed doubtful. "That's just it. I've heard of this vaguely, but never any specifics."

  It was possible that these were just normal rumors in a small town. Last year, there was a rumor that Officer Kevin Dooley ate the evidence from the theft of a Cheetos truck. But I didn't believe it. Mostly.

  My mind reeled back to Boats of the Midwest. I needed to do a deeper reading of that later.

  "I've emailed you a copy of the footage, complete with time stamp," Betty said as she slipped a DVD into the computer. "And I'm making a copy of the whole evening, just in case Wonder Woman here screws up and erases it." The noir was gone, but it made sense. They didn't have any of this technology in the early twentieth century.

  "You know," Inez said. "I'll never look at Wonder Woman the same way again."

  Glancing at Elrond as Wonder Woman in the picture, I had to agree.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I headed over to Ela's Diner for dessert and information. Unfortunately, a small crowd followed me.

  "I need a table for one," I told a bored, gum-cracking waitress.

  "Three," Betty said.

  "Four," added Kurt.

  "What do you mean?" Stewie asked. "There's six of us!"

  Which is how I ended up sharing my table with two Girl Scouts, a bounty
hunter, and two druids. It sounds like the foundation of a joke, even though I couldn't come up with a punchline at the moment.

  "What'll ya have?" A pretty, young waitress came over and smiled. Her nametag read Ela.

  "Desserts," I said, pointing to Stewie. "He's buying, so bring him the check."

  Stewie started to protest.

  "It's because you outed me as Beetle Dork," I said.

  "Oh. That." He nodded at the waitress. "I'll take the check."

  Mike stared at him, mouth open.

  "What?" Stewie snapped.

  "You've never paid the check for anything! At cons, you always 'forget your wallet.' Last week, you had me gas up the hearse! In fact, you always have someone else fill up the hearse!"

  Kurt's eyes grew wide as, for the first time since running into the guys at Elrond's, he realized that he was sitting with Kayla's cult members. "You guys know Kayla?" he asked, in case there was more than one cult in Who's There.

  "Duh," Mike said. "And then there was that time at Area 51, when you tricked Heather into paying for your lunch."

  Stewie wasn't listening. His ears perked up at the prospect of a possible recruit. "That's right. Kayla is a member of our sect. Are you interested in joining?"

  Kurt thought about it. "How often do you guys meet?"

  "We practically live at the Chapel of Despair," Mike groused.

  I studied Kurt's reaction to the location, but he didn't seem to recognize the name of the place.

  "Because it's awesome!" Stewie squealed.

  Kurt and Stewie fell into a conversation about the merits of membership.

  Ela brought over menus, and we divvied them up.

  "What do you recommend?" I repeated the question I'd asked earlier. A familiar aroma wafted from the kitchen. "Hey, is that meatloaf?"

  Ela beamed. "Best meatloaf in the state!"

  "It smells like the meatloaf I had for lunch at Ella's." I pointed across the street to make my point.

  Ela sighed. "That would be just like her to steal our recipe!"

  "She stole your meatloaf recipe?" Betty asked. "I can help you with security. Do you have any heavy logs that could swing out of your kitchen?"

  "I don't know how she did it." Ela ignored the girl, which was for the best. "Well, she doesn't have the recipe for my triple-chocolate cheesecake!"