Page 43 of Risk of a Lifetime
JB slouched against the counter behind him. He needed to put the cook at ease. Glancing at the canned goods stacked on the kitchen shelves, he wished all the foods hadn’t been bought in bulk. One can could feed a dozen or more. “You’ve got a lot of food stockpiled back here.” He walked over and grabbed the smallest can of pineapple he could find. “Mind if I open this?”
Joanie shook her head. “Fine with me. Put it on your next bill.”
He jabbed the can under the opener, then fumbled on purpose. “Never could get the hang of these. Can you give me a hand, Burt?”
The cook took the can and hooked it into the opener, then reached for a bowl to dump the slices in. Joanie moved forward to finish the job herself, but the sheriff raised his finger and barely shook his head. She stepped back and then perched on a stool she pulled from under the counter.
JB accepted the bowl of fruit and forked some into his mouth, smiled. “Good stuff.” He took another bite. “Now Burt, all we want you to do is tell us what happened. Can you remember? Can you help us nail this guy?”
The cook nodded, gulped his water down, then swiped his sleeve across his mouth before placing the glass in the dishwasher. When he turned to the group again, he looked composed. Ready. “Was about two or two-thirty. I’d just finished up the order Evans called in. A big one, and I wanted everything to be done ‘bout the same time. If everything’s hot when it’s put in the bag, then it’s hot for the customer when they get home. Or to the police station in this case.
“Anyhow, I had it all wrapped and piled, ready to go in the bags when this new man walked over with a Styrofoam container. Had flowers drawn on top. Said Joanie decorated it special for Marcy’s sandwich. He grabbed one of the sandwiches, plopped it in the container, closed the lid, and stuck it in the bag. Packed the whole damn order for me.”
Joanie cleared her throat. “I never hired anyone new. And I didn’t have time to be decorating any special box what with the special delivery down the street.”
The sheriff leaned on the table. “What special delivery?”
“One of the men at the lumber yard called in at 2:10 for a whole apple pie and a gallon of ice cream if I’d bring it down by 2:15,” Joanie grumped. “Except when I got down there, no one ‘fessed up to placing the order.”
“I’ll check on where the call came from.” Kennett made a note.
“Probably a disposable phone.” JB forked another chunk of pineapple into his mouth.
Joanie flushed. “You think the guy called to get me out of the way, so he could have access to the kitchen?”
Sheriff Davis turned his focus back to Burt. “What happened next?”
“Not much. I mentioned he must be new. Didn’t think much of it. Joanie’s always giving somebody down on their luck a chance.” The cook glanced at his boss. “Told him my name. He never told me his, though.”
“Wouldn’t matter, he’d have lied anyhow. What else?”
Burt fiddled with his ear lobe. “Had a big skull earring with swords hanging off it. I mentioned he needed to get it under the hair cover. Told him Joanie’s a stickler for cleanliness and proper attire. Fact is, I pointed him in the direction of the storeroom to get a clean apron ‘cause the one he had on looked like it had been through the mill and back.”
“What’d he say?”
“Said he grabbed the first one he saw and went to clearing tables. Seemed kind of nervous. In a hurry. Kept looking at the clock over the sink,” Burt said. “When he walked out the back door, I told him unauthorized breaks didn’t happen around here. Said he forgot his insulin shot and would be right back.”
“Did he come back?”
“Not yet.” The cook’s body eased, like the air in a balloon being released.
“You did good, Burt. Real good.” JB walked over to the dishwasher, deposited his fork and bowl, then turned to Burt. “Don’t suppose you could give us a description of the man?”
“Sure thing.” The cook walked next to Kennett, looked up. “Yep, ‘bout his height. Slim in the pants. Walked with a bad limp. You know, the kind with a hip stuck out and a draggy foot.”
JB kept a straight face, but details on this description were a little too specific. A little too exact. A disguise meant to distract.
“Dark brown eyes.” The cook’s voice strengthened. “His bushy, black beard made me wonder why Joanie hadn’t made him shave. Then I saw the scar at the edge of the hairline.” He stroked his finger from his temple, across his cheek, and into the beard area. “Figured that’s why she let him pass.”
The sheriff stood, held out his hand. “Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help. We may need to ask some more questions later, but I think we’ve got what we need for now.”
Kennett and JB shook the older man’s hand, too. And Joanie gave him a hug before he stepped out the back door.
Burt turned around. “Almost forgot the tattoo. Had half a heart on his forearm with ragged edges. You know…like one of them cutting strips on a box of waxed paper. And some numbers in it.”
JB focused on what might be an identifying mark. “Could you make out the numbers?”
“Not all of them, but there was a 3 and an 8, I know for sure.”
