A Bad Egg: The Classic Diner Mystery Part 8

"I'm not sure how receptive she would be to an apology just now," I said honestly. I didn't want to put Ellen through anything she didn't have to endure while so much was going on. "Don't get me wrong. She has a good heart, but this has all thrown her for a real loop."

"I understand how she feels," Jessie said. "Would you mind conveying my apologies to her directly, then? She might be a little more receptive hearing it from you. Please?"

"I'll tell her," I said, not at all sure how it would go over with Ellen. Still, it was the least I could do. I believed that Jessie was sincere about at least that much, and that she regretted the trouble she and Gordon had caused Ellen since they'd come to town.

"That's all that I can ask," Jessie said, and then she walked away.

I went back into the diner, took a deep breath, and decided that the longer I put it off, the worse it was going to be.

I needed to convey Jessie's message, no matter how unpleasant Ellen's reaction might be.

As I walked inside, I looked back over my shoulder. Jessie was heading toward a nice car, but that wasn't what caught my eye.

Wayne, my favorite mechanic and Ellen's current boyfriend, sat up in the car he was driving after she pa.s.sed him, and as soon as Jessie pulled out of the parking lot, he was right behind her.

What was the man up to?

I didn't know, but I was going to make it a point to find out the next time I had a chance to talk to him. That was all we needed, more people trying to solve Gordon's murder and getting in our way. Moose and I had it covered, and at least we had some experience investigating.

All Wayne would do was mess things up.

Chapter 8.

"Is she gone?" Ellen asked me as I walked back into the diner.

"She just left," I said. "Do you have a second?"

Ellen surveyed the tables, checked the order window, and then nodded. "We're in the middle of a lull. What did she have to say?"

"Among other things, she wanted to apologize to you," I said.

Ellen's gaze flared, and her face flushed a little. "What happened? Was she too afraid to face me herself? Why did she send you to apologize to me?"

"She asked me if she should speak with you directly, but I wasn't sure that it was all that good an idea. I offered to tell you myself, and if that was the wrong decision, you shouldn't hold it against her."

"Are you actually on her side, Victoria?" Ellen asked loudly enough to get the attention of our diners. Great. I'd been trying to avoid a scene, and now I was the direct cause of one.

"Lower your voice," I said, and she nodded. "You shouldn't even have to ask me that question. I was thinking of you when I volunteered to convey her message, but if I was wrong, I'm sure she'll talk directly to you about it. I was just trying to help."

Ellen nodded. "I know you were. I'm sorry I snapped. I can't help myself. When I think about Gordon trying to take my children away from me, with that woman's deep pockets behind him, it makes me so furious I could scream."

"You're going to want to fight that impulse," I said, trying my best to smile gently. "We don't need any help painting you with the 'Angry Ex' brush. Half the town probably thinks that if you did do it, you were defending your children, and I'm fairly sure none of them blame you for what happened to Gordon."

Ellen looked around the room, and a half dozen folks looked straight down into their plates. "Do you honestly think that many people in town believe that I'm a murderer?"

"I misspoke," I said, realizing how damaging that must have sounded to Ellen. "I'm sure most of them believe in your innocence."

"But not all of them," Ellen said. "Not by a long shot. I've lived in Jasper Fork my entire life. How could anyone think I was capable of murder?"

"Don't forget that plenty of them have believed it of me in the past," I said, "so don't feel like they're picking on you. Ellen, it's one of the reasons that Moose and I are searching for Gordon's killer. The longer it takes for an arrest to be made, the worse it's going to get for you and your family. Trust me on this one, there are more consequences from being convicted in the court of popular opinion than any trial."

"I know you've been in the center of these things before," Ellen said. "I thought I understood how you felt, but that was foolish of me. Until I started feeling the scorn of folks I thought were my friends, I had no idea how crus.h.i.+ng the weight can be."

It was bad timing, but Margie Brewer chose that moment to pay her bill. As she handed Ellen a ten for a five-dollar tab, she said, "Keep the change, and hang in there. Even if this thing goes to trial, you just need one mother on the jury to keep your freedom."

"I didn't kill him, Mrs. Brewer," Ellen said.

"Of course you didn't, sweetie," Margie said as she patted Ellen's hand, and then she walked out of The Charming Moose whistling.

"She just called me a cold-blooded killer, didn't she?" Ellen asked me.

"Not exactly," I said.

"It was close enough, and you know it. You and Moose need to figure this out, Victoria, and I mean fast."

"We're doing the best we can," I said. "Are you sure that you're all right?"

"I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a little shaky," Ellen said, "but I'm not going anywhere. Folks need to see that I'm not hiding in some corner, afraid of what might happen to me."

"That's my girl," I said as I squeezed her shoulder. "We'll figure this out."

"I hope you're right," she said, and then Malcolm Mason waved his coffee cup in her direction, and she grabbed a full pot as she headed off in his direction.

As I watched Ellen flit among our customers, I knew that she was right. Moose and I had to find the killer, and we had to do it before the town decided collectively that Ellen had taken that pipe to her ex-husband. I knew that Margie Brewer had been trying to be supportive, but she'd just confirmed my worst fears. If enough folks in town believed that Ellen was a killer, there would be no changing their minds later, even after the real murderer was brought to justice.

"Is Ellen working today?" Sheriff Croft asked as he walked into the diner a little after ten. "I thought for sure she'd be home."

"She wanted to come in, and I didn't have the heart to turn her away," I said. "Is something wrong? You're not going to question her here, are you?"

"No, your friend Rebecca made it clear that I wasn't supposed to talk to her without supervision," the sheriff said with the hint of a smile. "That was smart, bringing her in on this."

"She's never let me down before," I said. "If you're not going to talk to her, why are you here, then? I know that you're not a big fan of the diner in general."

"Nonsense. I love your pancakes, and you know it."

"Still, you don't eat here very often," I said.

"That's because I know where that will lead. If I want to keep fitting into this uniform, I have to watch what I eat. Every now and then, though, it's good to indulge."

"So that's all you want; pancakes."

"That's it," he said.

"Then have a seat, and I'll be right with you."

"Does that mean that you're not even going to let Ellen wait on me?" he asked.

"She can do whatever she wants, but I have a hunch you're going to end up in my section, no matter where you decide to sit."

"Understood," he said. "If it's all the same to you, I'll have a seat at the bar, then."

"Sounds good," I said as I followed him. When he sat down, I asked, "Would you like a menu?"

"Thanks, but I don't need one. I'll have a half stack of your mother's pancakes, and a side of bacon."

"Wow, you really are indulging," I said. "Would you like some coffee to go with that?"

"Sure, why not?"

I flipped a cup over on its saucer and filled it for him. As I walked into the kitchen, I found Ellen chatting with my mother. "Do I have a customer?"

"The sheriff is here," I said.

Ellen stiffened instantly. "Did he come here for me?"

"Relax. He says he just wants a half stack of Mom's pancakes."

"And why wouldn't he?" my mother asked as she poured some batter onto the grill. "He used to eat them all of the time back when he first became sheriff."

"I keep forgetting that you've been running this grill for a long time," I said. "Does it ever get old for you?"

"I don't imagine how it could. Every order's different, isn't it?" Mom said as she deftly flipped three pancakes with her spatula, each one making a perfect landing on the hot griddle. I'd tried to make pancakes once, and they'd been an unmitigated disaster. There was a great deal more art to flipping than I'd realized, and I'd decided to leave them to the experts after that.

"I don't know. There are at least a dozen diners who order the exact same thing every time they walk through the door. I personally couldn't eat the same thing every day of my life."

"I don't know. There's comfort in finding something you like," she said as she removed the finished pancakes, glanced at the order I'd put in line, and added three pieces of bacon to the plate fresh from the grill. "There you go."

"Thanks," I said.

"Would you like me to deliver that order?" Ellen asked, though it was clear that she had no interest whatsoever in dropping off this particular order.

"I've got it. Why don't you extend your break a little until he's gone?"

Ellen shook her head. "No thanks. No one's going to keep me back here, not even the police." With a firm step, she walked to the counter and grabbed the pancakes before I could get to them. "On second thought, I'll deliver these myself."

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"As a matter of fact, I do." She put on a brave face, and then Ellen walked through the kitchen door into the dining room.

"I'm going to follow her," I said.

"Victoria, don't interfere. She has to do this herself."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean that I can't keep an eye on her."

I walked through the kitchen, and I saw that though Ellen had dropped off the sheriff's order, she stayed close by him. They were talking about something, and I didn't like the fact that the sheriff had apparently disobeyed Rebecca's request.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked.

"No, it's fine," Ellen said. "We were just talking about the weather."

"Was that all you were discussing?"

"Honest, that was it," the sheriff said as he held his knife and fork up in the air.

"Okay, but I've got my eye on you," I said.

He actually laughed as he responded, "Victoria, I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't. Tell your mother the pancakes are spectacular, as usual."

"I will," I said. "Ellen, it looks like Karen is ready for her bill." Karen Morgan was our local clerk of court, and she had started eating regularly at the diner lately. Some folks were like that, turning from infrequent customers to steady ones for a while, and then tapering off again. I never knew if it was because of our cooking or something going on in their lives, and it wasn't exactly a question that I could come right out and ask them. For now, at least, she was getting to be something of a regular, and I knew that her time was limited during lunch hour, so it was important that we be prompt.

"I'm on it," Ellen said.

As she delivered the bill, I waved at her to ring Karen up so I could talk to the sheriff in somewhat kind of private. "Are you behaving yourself?"

"Mostly," the sheriff said. "You know that I pride myself on being a man of my word. I won't ever do anything I've agreed not to. You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm not questioning your ethics," I said. "I'm just looking out for Ellen."

"Don't you think I know that?" The sheriff took another bite, and then he pushed his plate away, though there was still a fair amount of pancakes there. "That's it for me. I'd better quit while I can."

"Would you like me to wrap what's left up for later?" I asked.

"Don't tempt me," he said as he slid a ten under his plate. "I've got to be going. Thank your mother for me."

"I will," I said. "Sheriff, thank you for taking it easy on Ellen."

"Don't mistake my actions for leniency," Sheriff Croft said as he stood. "Ellen doesn't have an alibi for the murder of her ex-husband, and everyone knows that she had reason enough to wish him harm. She's by no means off my list."

"You're not going to arrest her, are you?" I asked. I couldn't imagine Ellen ever getting over being handcuffed and led away from The Charming Moose Diner by the police.

"Not until I have a lot more evidence than I do at the moment. How's your investigation going?"

"What makes you think that I'm doing anything?" I asked.

"You and Moose would have to be locked up in one of my cells not to dig into Gordon's murder. Just be careful. We don't know who did it, but one thing is certain. The man didn't kill himself with that pipe. There's someone dangerous on the loose, and I mean to find them and lock them up, no matter who it turns out to be."

"I understand," I said. "Just don't be surprised when we give you someone else's name as the killer, and not Ellen's."

"Don't get yourself killed," the sheriff said with a smile. "I don't want to deal with the paperwork that would bring."

"We'll do our best," I said.