Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death: A Comfort Food Mystery by Christine Wenger Read Free Book Online Page A

glitter gel nails. There were twelve bags and they were still coming.
    “I’ll start loading these in my car,” I yelled.
    “Thanks, Trixie.”
    I wondered how everything would fit in my small, alleged gas-saving car. We should have taken her van.
    After everything was finally loaded, we made our way to Brown’s Four Corners restaurant to check on the new chef and how things were coming along without ACB.
    We both were pleasantly surprised and impressed. The dining room had a good crowd, and as I glanced around, the plates looked nicely prepared. The waitresses looked happy and efficient, and the place looked much cleaner than in the past.
    ACB flip-flopped her way into the kitchen andgasped. “Wow! Everything is so clean since I’ve been in here last. What did you do, Fingers?”
    Fingers?
    “I hired a crew. Had it steam cleaned and power washed from top to bottom with an antigreaser. Remember, Antoinette Chloe? You approved it.”
    “Yes. Yes, I did. Fabulous, Fingers. Great idea.” With hands on hips, she looked around and grinned.
    “Fingers, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Chef Trixie Matkowski. Trixie, this is Chef Phil Gallman.”
    “Nice to meet you.” He had a tough-looking face, like he was a boxer or a wrestler, but when he smiled he looked young and sweet.
    He held up his hand in a wave to me, and I discovered why his nickname was Fingers. He was missing two of them.
    “One big meat hatchet,” Fingers said in response to the question I was dying to ask. “At the Culinary Institute of Brooklyn.” He laughed and put three plates of fried haddock and french fries with coleslaw under the heat lamps. He rang a bell, and a waitress came into the kitchen immediately.
    “What took you so long, Debby?”
    She giggled. “What took you so long to make it?”
    Swaying her hips, she sashayed away, knowing Fingers was watching. He gave a low wolf whistle.
    “Do you need anything?” ACB asked.
    “Not a thing, Antoinette Chloe. We’re makingmoney, and I have everything running like a well-oiled Harley.”
    Another biker? How does Antoinette Chloe find these guys?
    “Okay, Fingers. Keep up the great work. Call me if you need me. I don’t feel like cooking these days, but I will come if you need the help.”
    He nodded as he took a handful of orders from Debby.
    It seemed like Fingers was taking over ACB’s job as owner. Obviously, she trusted him to take care of the money, too.
    Wow
.
    She’d known him for less than two weeks. I felt like saying something to her, but I thought now wasn’t the best time.
    Finally, we walked out the door and crammed into my sardine can of a car.
    “If I can forget about Nick, the next several days will be fun,” she said. “I can look forward to the contestants arriving and the pageant itself.”
    I turned down Main Street and headed to the Big House. Right now I was wishing it was bigger.
    “Just a few more days before we welcome the contestants, Antoinette Chloe. I have to get the Big House ready and get some groceries. I could use your help.”
    “You got it, Trix.”
    But I didn’t get any. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nick and spent her time constantly phoning Hal Manning, trying to pry something out of him about the circumstances of Nick’s death. She hungaround the Silver Bullet, hoping to corner Ty Brisco for the same thing. She made numerous calls to everyone and their relatives. Any man or woman in uniform who came into the diner, she asked if they were working on Nick’s case.
    In between all that, she spent her time on the phone with the contestants and giving them directions, and meeting with Margie Grace about the performance part of the program.
    Oh yes. A tableau of salmon swimming upstream. Now, that had to be Broadway bound!
    At some point, we gave our statements to Ty. And then gave the same statements to the state police investigators. Ditto to every resident of Sandy Harbor who wanted to hear the story from the horse’s