A Chili Death: A Classic Diner Mystery by Jessica Beck Page A

asked me as he stuck out his hand.
    “It’s a deal,” I said, taking it and doing my best to give him a solid grip in return.  Moose had taught me as a small girl to give as good as I got, and I’d practiced on tennis balls until I had a grasp that came close to matching his own.
    At least Cynthia was working in her hair salon when we got there.  Thankfully no customers were there at the moment, though I doubted she felt that way about it.  I didn’t want an audience for the conversation we were about to have.
    “This isn’t good, is it?” she asked as Moose and I as we walked into A Cut Above.
    “What makes you say that?” I asked.
    “By all rights, you should be at the diner, Victoria, and Moose, you would most likely be out on a lake somewhere fishing if everything was all right.”
    “It’s too cold for that,” Moose said.
    “We both know better than that,” she said with a smile.  “Are you both here about the murder?”
    “You’ve heard about it already, then?” I asked.
    “Oh, yes.  As I was opening the doors for the day, Margie Collins came by and filled me in.  She embellished it all, of course, but the gist of it was that somebody killed that worm of a man Howard Lance in your diner.”
    “Actually, it was the freezer, but that’s about right.”
    “It must look bad on your family,” Cynthia said.
    “That’s why we’re trying to find the killer,” Moose blurted out.
    “You two?  What makes you think you’re capable of doing anything remotely like that?”
    “We really don’t have much choice,” I said.  “You can help us, if you’re willing.”
    “I’ll do what I can,” Cynthia said, “but it’s just like I told you before, Mom doesn’t remember much about buying the place.  If you’d like her number, I’ve got it here on my phone.”
    “Evelyn never did have all that good a memory,” Moose said.  “Besides, it’s you we want to talk to about it.”
    “What do you think I can tell you that you don’t already know, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    “Where were you yesterday between five and five thirty?” I asked.  “If you’ve got an alibi, we can mark your name off our list.”
    “I’m not a suspect, am I?” she asked, her voice growing with confusion.  “Why would I kill Howard Lance?”
    “To save your livelihood,” I said.  “He was threatening to take away all of our businesses.  We’re naturally the prime suspects.”
    “I can see the police acting that way, but we shouldn’t be turning on each other,” she said.
    “It’s not that hard a question, Cynthia,” Moose said as he took a step toward her.  He was a big man, and he hadn’t gotten that nickname for nothing.  My grandfather could be intimidating when he wanted to be, as I well knew from experience.
    She was considering her options when the front door of her place opened.  I was ready to push through until we had an answer, but that plan changed almost immediately when I saw that it was Sheriff Croft walking in.
    “Neither one of you look as though you’re getting a haircut,” the sheriff said.  “What brings you here?”
    I was trying to come up with a safe answer that wouldn’t make the sheriff irritated with us when Cynthia stole the opportunity from me to spin it in our direction.  “They think I killed Howard Lance,” she blurted out.
    “We never said anything of the sort,” I replied quickly.
    “You asked me for my alibi,” Cynthia said, her tone of voice accusing us of far worse.
    “I need to see you two outside.  Now,” the sheriff said as he pointed in our direction.
    “We didn’t—” was all I got out.  The glare he shot at me was enough to stop a rushing bull, and I didn’t need to be scolded twice.
    Once we were outside, Moose said, “Before you start lecturing us, Victoria was trying to tell you the truth.  We were just looking for an alibi so we could strike her name off our suspect list.”
    “Why do you think I’m here?” the