Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death: A Comfort Food Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

why should I go to a counselor? I have you to talk to.” She studied a huge purple ring. “And I have to keep busy: the Miss Salmon pageant, for one, and I have to get Brown’s remodeled—yep, I’m going to do that—and then there’s the drive-in. I want to break ground on that soon. Hopefully next Thursday.”
    “You are definitely going to be busy.” That was good for a person like ACB.
    “Absolutely.”
    “Can you fit a counselor in?” I patted her hand.
    “Like I said, I have you!” She squeezed my fingers and then stood and stretched. “How about going to Nick’s house with me? Maybe there’s something I missed. Something that would give me a clue as to where he went.”
    “So, you’re not going to a
real
counselor and you are still going to search for Nick?”
    “Yes to both. So, will you come with me to Nick’s house?”
    “Now?”
    She nodded.
    I looked at the clock on my wall. I guess I didn’t need all that much sleep. “Let’s go, Antoinette Chloe.”
    “I’ll drive,” she said.
    “Let’s both drive. I don’t want you to have to come back here to drop me off.”
    “Good thinking. I’ll meet you at Nick’s. He’s at 1302 Third Street, and I have the key.”
    I gave her the thumbs-up sign, but I had a queasy feeling in my stomach. She was a friend, though, so I grabbed my purse, slipped into my yellow raincoat and headed for my boring gray car to spy on ACB’s boyfriend, the brother of her incarcerated husband.
    *   *   *
    Nick’s house on Main Street was a cute Craftsman bungalow. It reminded me of a cartoon house with windows that looked like two eyes; the roof seemed like it was wearing a beret, and the front porch could be its teeth.
    I stared at the house, willing it to talk like a cartoon and give up its secrets.
    ACB was already there, as the front screen door was open and banging on the side of the house in the wind.
    Walking up the stairs, I cautiously stepped over the threshold as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. No wonder ACB left the door open.
    “Antoinette Chloe? I’m here.”
    “I’m in the bedroom.”
    I half expected to see Nick’s body on the floor atmy feet. I don’t know why. Maybe it was due to Deputy Doug and all his cop stories. Or maybe it was because I was addicted to all the cop shows with or without initials.
    Hearing a sob, my heart pounded louder. “Hello? Antoinette Chloe?”
    I followed the sobbing down the hall and came to what had to be Nick’s bedroom. It was a mixture of cooking-related items and motorcycle paraphernalia. There were paintings and framed photos of plates of meat right next to various blueprints of motorcycles. There was a display of chef hats in various shades of yellowing, along with a rack of motorcycle bandannas and caps.
    His bedspread and curtains went with the motorcycle theme. His rugs had the name C HEF N ICK ’ S — B OSTON , M ASSACHUSETTS .
    I wanted to ask ACB when Nick had his own restaurant. But now was not the time to ask her anything. She was sitting on the bed, hugging a black T- shirt to her chest.
    “This is Nick’s,” she said. “I remember when he wore it. We were riding with the Rubbers.”
    “The what? The who?”
    She turned the shirt around for me to see. “Roving Rubbers, 2013 Ride-a-lot Against Cancer,” I read aloud.
    “I remember this day.” ACB looked up at the Harley-Davidson ceiling fan. Her pale blue eyes pooled with unshed tears. “I was riding in Nick’s sidecar, and he kept smiling down at me. We had these helmets that were connected by wire, so we could talk. But we didn’t need to talk. His bigbrown eyes told me everything. They told me that he loved me. Why would he leave me without a word, Trixie?”
    “I don’t know, Antoinette Chloe. That’s why we’re here. To find out what’s going on. If Nick loved you like you think he did, then maybe he left you a note or something.”
    She raised her hands in frustration. “I looked for a note the last time I was