Free 2 A Deadly Beef by Jessica Beck

know
Wally very well?"
    Chester shrugged.  "I suppose I knew him well enough to say hello to whenever I
saw him, but not well enough to loan money to, if you know what I mean."
    Chester was notoriously tight with his money, so I doubted that list was very big. 
"I didn’t realize there was anyone in town you’d crack
your wallet for, Chester," I said with a grin.
    He
nodded.  "That’s a fair assumption, because there aren’t
many.  Offhand, I’d say that I’d loan money to you or your
grandfather if either one of you needed it, but that’s probably about
it.  I’ll admit that it’s an awfully short list."
    I was
frankly surprised by the confession, and more than a little honored, to be on
his list.  "You forgot your family."
    "My
family," he said with a sigh.  "I’m afraid that
they’re an entirely different story.  Of the whole clan, only my
grandson would have a chance to make that cut.  He’s as responsible
as any teenager I’ve ever known."
    "You
two are close, aren’t you?" I asked.
    "No
more than you and Moose are," Chester acknowledged. 
"I’m not sure what it is about the relationship between a
grandparent and grandchild.  It’s not an automatic bonding, but when
it clicks, there’s nothing in the world like it."
    I smiled. 
"It’s an interesting way to think about it," I said. 
"I’m not all that sure that Moose and I click.  We have our
fair share of squabbles from time to time."
    "That
just shows you care," Chester said.
    "Then
he must care about me a lot ," I answered with a smile.
    "He
does indeed," Chester said.
    Mom
rang the bell, and I got Chester’s breakfast for him: two eggs over
medium, two pieces of toast, and a dollop of grits.  It never varied,
which in a way was a real comfort.  There weren’t many things in the
world I could depend on staying the same, but Chester’s breakfast order
was one of them.
     
    Later
that morning, Ellen was at the diner waiting on our customers while I handled
the register.  Our breakfast diners tended to come in waves.  The
folks who worked mainly with their hands seemed to keep earlier hours, and wore
more casual attire into the diner.  They also seemed to laugh a little
freer than the ones who came in later more dressed up for their office
jobs.  I didn’t envy either group their jobs.  The diner was
the perfect fit for me, and when there weren’t any murders to worry
about, it was a pretty good life, all in all. 
    I was
still thinking about just how good I had it when Ron Watkins walked in. 
He looked haggard, and I wondered just how hard Sally was working him on her
farm.
    "Sit
anywhere you’d like," I said as I tried to hand him a menu, but he
refused to take it.
    "Victoria, do you have a second?" he asked.  I studied his face, and if
he’d gotten more than three hours sleep the night before, I would have
been amazed.
    "Sure. 
What can I do for you, Ron?  Is something wrong?"
    Instead
of answering, he glanced around the café.  There were a handful of
diners spread out, but no one particularly close to us at the time. 
"Could we talk outside?"
    "I
would, but I’ve got to stay right here and run the register," I
said.  "We can chat safely enough, though.  I doubt anyone will
be able to hear us if we keep our voices down."  I could have left
the register duties to Ellen, but I wasn’t entirely certain that I wanted
to leave the confines of the diner and go outside with Ron.  There was
something off-putting about his manner this morning that left me unsettled.
    Ron
looked uncertain about taking me up on my offer, so I added, "Ron,
nobody’s even paying any attention to us.  Look around and see for
yourself."
    He did
as I suggested, and Ron must have seen that I was telling the truth.  All
of our diners were either absorbed in their conversations, or their breakfasts,
to pay us any mind at all.  I could see him start to shrug his agreement
when the diner’s front door opened and Sheriff Croft walked