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

Nick’s bike one more time,” she said. “I’ll take a couple of pictures. You know, for memories.”
    “Let’s hurry.”
    We went into the garage, and ACB took tons of pictures. Then she froze like a statue and slapped her head.
    I was glad that she wasn’t wearing a hat, or it would have flown to the next county.
    “I’ll have to sell everything,” she said. “Crap! I never thought of how I’d have to sell Nick’s things. His house, his bike, my sidecar. His convertible. Oh, I forgot about the big shed out back! And look at all these tools and tool cabinets! I’m getting overwhelmed. Who should get the money?Sal can’t use it where he is. Oh, I guess I can donate the money.”
    She was rambling and looked like she was ready to fall apart.
    “What about your drive-in, Antoinette Chloe?”
    “I don’t know. I lost my enthusiasm for that project. I’ll have to think about it, but for now, I can’t even think about the drive-in. Especially after we found Nick’s . . . body on the land I wanted to build it on.”
    “Are you done here?” I asked, concerned that she was going to burst into tears at any moment. “Why don’t you take a break and go back to my house and lie down?”
    “I can’t. I have to go to Joan’s office at the
Lure
. I have to put an obituary for Nick in the paper. And I really have to see Hal Manning.”
    Hmm . . . maybe Joan had a scoop or two after pillow talk with Hal, although Hal had loose lips even without pillows being involved. A visit to both of them might prove helpful.
    “Antoinette Chloe, how about if we work together and find out what happened to Nick?”
    “Just what I was thinking. I owe it to Nick to find out who killed him.”
    “We still have to take care of the pageant girls, shuttle them around, feed them, and put on the pageant. We both have to cook at our restaurants, too. In between, we’ll have to follow any leads about Nick. Oh, and you have to take care of funeral arrangements. His house and contents can wait for a while, don’t you think?”
    What was I doing? I was adding to her anxiety, for heaven’s sake.
    “Yes. All that can wait, but Hal Manning can’t. Let’s go, Trixie.”
    So we went to Hal’s Happy Repose Funeral Home. His office was very modern, if we were still in the disco era. Shag rugs in various colors covered everything, even the walls. I’d been to calling hours here before, and the room was tasteful and nice, but I’d never been in his lime green shag office.
    I wondered where he did his coroner duties.
    “Sit down, ladies. Obviously, I know why you’re here.”
    Reaching into a small fridge, he pulled out two bottles of water and set them down in front of us. I went for one.
    “The world has lost a good man and a good cook,” Hal said.
    “Chef,” ACB corrected.
    “Chef,” Hal repeated. “It was a shame that he had to die that way.”
    ACB dabbed at her nose with a yellow bandanna. “What way, Hal?”
    Hal hesitated just a second, but I pushed.
    “I think that Antoinette Chloe has a right to know, Hal. They were very close.”
    “He died from a knife cut to his jugular vein. He bled out on the dirt not far from where Ed dug him out.”
    Eew.
Picturing that, I took a couple chugs of water. It sloshed around my empty stomach.
    “A big knife?” I asked. “Like a big bread knife or a meat cleaver?”
    “Nope. He had a small but perfectly placed cut. It had to be a thin, very sharp knife.”
    I grabbed ACB’s hand and squeezed it. She was turning white under all the makeup that she slathered on during our ride back from Auburn.
    Twisting open the cap of the other bottle of water, I handed it to her. “Take a couple of deep breaths. And drink some water.”
    Hal Manning definitely had loose lips today, but nothing else he mumbled about had much to do with Nick.
    ACB made the other arrangements and wrote out a check for Hal. Then we told him that we were on our way to see Joan.
    “Tell her that I’m in the