Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery Read Online Free PDF

double doors. Deputy McCoy nodded to us, and I nodded back. “Try to forget all this and rest.”
    I quickly escorted her out the front door of the diner and down the stairs to her car. I hugged her, and she clung to me like a cat on a curtain. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
    She shook her head. “They are going to need you here. I’ll be okay.”
    “Drive carefully, Juanita.” With a nod and a sniff, off she went.
    I needed to do damage control at the diner. The customers were waiting to hear something. I entered the diner once again and went straight through the double doors to the kitchen.
    I asked Ty if I could tell my patrons that the health inspector had suffered a heart attack. He hesitated, then shook his head.
    “No. Not until his emergency contact identifies the body.” He consulted his notebook. “A girlfriend by the name of Roberta Cummings. She’s meeting the body at Manning’s Happy Repose Funeral Home. Apparently, Hal Manning is both the county coroner and the local funeral director.”
    “Small town,” we both said in unison.
    “Mr. Cogswell has no living relatives that we know of,” Ty added.
    “So what should I tell them? That it’s a suspected heart attack?” I asked.
    “Tell them that the cause of death is being investigated by the Sandy Harbor sheriff’s department. Don’t mention the pork and scalloped potatoes, though, and it’s no longer today’s daily special. I’m confiscating all of it.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “But why? What on earth does that have to do with his heart attack?”
    “We’re still investigating,” he said, seeming very coplike and cagey.
    The
rip
of the zipper on the body bag echoed through the din of the kitchen. I scooted out front. I didn’t want to see poor Mr. Cogswell being slipped and zipped into it. No, thanks.
    Once in the dining room, I raised my hands for silence and waited. When everyone was quiet, I said, “It appears that someone has passed on, but that’s all I can say until his family members have been notified.”
    I turned to go back in, but then I remembered that there was no special available, and no cook, and I didn’t know how long everyone would be in my kitchen. I had this sick feeling in my stomach, knowing that I had to close the place, probably for the first time ever. But what could I do? “And the kitchen is closed for the evening. But pastries and beverages are on me. The waitresses will serve you.”
    I nodded to Nancy and to a waitress whom I didn’t know, and they both sprang into action.
    “Help yourself, Deputy McCoy,” I said.
    “I will,” he replied as he opened the doors for me.
    I made the same announcement to those milling around the kitchen, and gradually they moved from the kitchen to the front of the diner, mumbling their thanks. Ty and the third member of the Sandy Harbor sheriff’s department remained. I read his gold nameplate: RUTLEDGE . I didn’t know his first name yet.
    “Lou, hand me the evidence tape,” Ty said.
    Okay, so his first name was Lou. Lou Rutledge. He was a Santa Claus clone, with twinkling brown eyes and a face that was friendly and bright. He had white hair and a white beard, and his stomach hung over his belt. Probably anyone who’d been naughty would admit his guilt to Deputy Rutledge.
    Ty dropped Mr. Cogswell’s fork into a plastic bag, sealed it with evidence tape, and initialed the tape where the bag met the seal.
    Then he did the same with his pork and scalloped potatoes. In went the plate, too.
    “Ty, what are you doing?” I asked.
    “Covering all bases, darlin’. That’s all.” He smiled at me; then the smile left his face. “By the way, where were you when Mr. Cogswell was here?”
    My face heated up and my stomach lurched. “Why are you asking me that, Deputy Brisco?”
    “Just answer the question,” he said curtly.
    What on earth…?
    “This sounds like
CSI: Sandy Harbor
,” I joked.
    A corner of his mouth turned up into a half smile. “So where