Free Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) by S. Dionne Moore

the bite into his mouth, though the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.
    Regina stayed with me long enough to get the wave of people from the lunch rush under control. I was mighty anxious to know if Chief was making headway, but couldn’t leave to find out.
    Before she left, Regina had enlisted the help of Lester. I suggested he use the time to get to know the people better and get to glad-handing, which he did with great zeal. When things slowed down, I flipped the sign to Closed, got the food prepped for the evening, checked the chicken noodle soup, put the pork on to roast for the evening special, and left Lester chatting with the last two people in the restaurant.
    Outside of Your Goose Is Cooked, the silence of the town struck me hard in the face. Strange that. Sure, everyone had probably returned to work, but there were usually the sounds of the two buses, or children, or stray pedestrians. I hustled down the sidewalk heading toward the corner to cross over Spender Avenue, intending to check on Hardy first, but sixty feet down the walk, I saw the bumper of a police cruiser hanging out of the alley that separated the corner building, Carl’s funeral home, from the row that housed Wig-Out, Big Sky, the Distant Echo, and the Goose. Twenty-five feet into the alley, Chief Conrad stood beside his car, hands on his hips, following the path of his deputy, Mac Simpson, who was steaming my way and closing in fast.
    “Mrs. Barnhart,” he whispered at me, motioning me to meet him halfway. I came even with him ten feet into the alley, dread tightening my insides as he walked with me toward Chief Conrad.
    “What’s the fuss about?”
    “I’ll let Chief explain.”
    Chief was talking into his radio. He motioned to Mac, who obviously knew what he was to do because he turned and trotted back to the mouth of the alley. I waited for Chief to finish, dread churning my insides as I caught some of the conversation.
    “We’ve got a problem, LaTisha ,” he finally put the radio down. “We found Aidan Abbett in the alley. I’m posting Mac as guard. Without getting too close, I want you to look over the scene.”
    “Aidan?” My mind reeled at the words Chief slung at me. My head filled with images of Marion Peters. “You mean, he’s dead?”
    “Shot.” Chief reached out, but I didn’t feel his hand make contact, just heard his voice. “ LaTisha ? LaTisha !”
     

 
 
    Chapter Nine
    “She’s coming around, Hardy.”
    I cracked an eye open in time to catch Hardy’s reply. “Never thought I’d see the day she took a horizontal dive.”
    Hardy was talking with his mouth full again. He did it to rankle me, knowing I’d told him a hundred times no one wanted to see ground up food in someone else’s mouth. Something gnawed at my brain. Something about the way Hardy was talking. It burst into focus. Ah, he didn’t have a mouth full at all. He had a mouth empty! But why was I on the ground?
    Hardy’s face filled my view. “Better you get on your feet, Carl’s measuring you up for a coffin.”
    He was definitely talking funny. That he could talk at all was a surprise. My head was cushioned in his lap and I was staring up at the sky. I tried to sit up, but Hardy stopped me. His eyes pierced me through. Despite all his fool talk, he was worried. About me.
    “What happened?” I croaked out.
    Chief Conrad knelt beside me. “I caught you before you hit the pavement. Hardy walked up soon afterward. Doctor Gordon is on his way.”
    “I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine.” To prove it, I pushed upward, allowing the chief and Hardy to help me to my feet, and brushed myself off. “How long was I out?”
    “About two minutes,” Chief answered. “Just enough time for Hardy to come speeding down the sidewalk when Mac motioned him to hurry.”
    I took in the scene all over again, aware of the fact that an officer was putting up the yellow tape to cordon off the area where Aidan lay, farther down in that alley and around the