Free Flipped For Murder by Maddie Day

threw berries into pancakes, I either used fresh or flash frozen, depending on the season.
    My first bite of sausage was crispy on the outside and moist on the inside. Can’t go wrong with links unless you let them dry out. I cut a biscuit in half and took a bite. Not bad. Warm and homemade, at least. No cheese in it, of course. That was my idea. Mom had baked cheesy biscuits since before I could remember, and I hadn’t found any offered in other restaurants in the county. I poured the warm gravy over the other half biscuit, this time using my knife and fork to lift a bite, but the gravy was salty, lumpy, with little dots of pork, and it tasted like it came out of a can. A can some machine filled a long, long time ago.
    I looked around at the other diners. Nobody seemed upset about their meals. People were sopping up egg yolks with white toast, demolishing stacks of pancakes, and crunching down pieces of bacon like there was no tomorrow. I glanced at the rest of the store as I ate the palatable parts of my breakfast.
    Vintage shelves, like the ones in my store, lined one wall. I saw a collection of rusty tools and a section with what looked like antique dishes and pottery. But Ed also stocked new fishing supplies, snacks, and other supplies, and had a kind of beach corner set up, with flip-flops, sunscreen, hats, and beach towels. Somebody ought to tell him it was nearly mid-October.
    Ed appeared out of nowhere at my elbow. “Taking a day off to slum with the competition?” His face was as ruddy as it’d looked on Saturday and his crooked-tooth smile bordered on a leer as he leaned in a bit too close. With a green tie knotted over a blue dress shirt, he sure as heck wasn’t dressed for kitchen work.
    â€œI decided to close on Mondays, since we’re open all weekend.” I moved as far away as I could from him without falling off my stool. “I was out for a ride and got hungry.”
    â€œHow’d you like the breakfast?” He pointed at my plate. “Looks like you weren’t hungry. Everybody loves those blueberry pancakes.”
    I mustered a smile. “The sausages were so good I just filled up on them.”
    â€œI can give you the pancake recipe if you want.” He pulled out a pen and held it above my menu with his left hand.
    Another leftie. “No, thanks, I have my own recipe I like.” I sipped my now-cold coffee. “Looks like you’re doing a good business.”
    â€œThe place is always crowded in the fall. Plenty of hungry tourists who also need to pick up batteries or a new lure.”
    â€œBy the way, I hired one of your former employees yesterday. Danna Beedle. Said she wanted to be able to walk to work. Can you recommend her?”
    He frowned and squinted so hard his small eyes almost disappeared. “We had a difference of opinion. She can be pretty standoffish.” He relaxed his eyes. “But she’s a good worker, that Danna, and was shaping up to know what she was doing in the kitchen.”
    â€œGreat, thanks. Terrible news about Stella, isn’t it? Looks like the two of you were friends.” I watched him. He hadn’t greeted Stella at my place Saturday. Not that I’d seen, anyway.
    Ed’s gaze darted about the room and back at a spot just beyond my right ear. “No. No, we weren’t.” He shook his head and cleared his throat.
    â€œIsn’t that a picture of you two in the hall by the restrooms?” I gestured with my fork. “You look pretty friendly, although it was a few years ago.”
    â€œMany years ago. Many, many years ago. We were . . . I was . . .” He swallowed and glanced at his big gold watch. “Would you look at the time? I’m late for a Chamber meeting.” He looked past me again. “Nice seeing you, Robbie. Don’t worry about the bill. Your meal is on the house.” He rushed off before I could even thank him, and muttered something to my waitress