News and Nachos Read online

  News and Nachos

  A Small Town Cozy Mystery Book 2 in the Tri-Town Murders

  Carly Winter

  Edited by

  Divas at Work Editing

  Cover Design by

  CoveredbyMelinda.com

  Westward Publishing / Carly Fall, LLC

  Copyright © 2020 by Carly Winter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover by: CoveredbyMelinda.com

  This book is dedicated to Christina Walker because she’s awesome and sees things no one else does.

  Thank you for all your help!

  News and Nachos

  Is her best friend a murderer?

  * * *

  When the owner of the local Mexican restaurant is found dead face down in a plate of nachos, Tilly Bordeaux, the reporter for the Tri-Town Times, is on the job.

  As she dives into the life of the deceased, she uncovers seedy behavior, lies and fraud. Even though the list of those who wanted the man dead is long, the sheriff, up for reelection, is focused exclusively on Tilly’s best friend, Carla.

  Tilly has no choice but to search for the true killer herself… before her friend is sent to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  About the Author

  1

  Life was almost perfect, until we discovered the body.

  I drove to Cedarville to visit my friend Carla, which was about thirty miles west from where I lived in Oak Peak, humming a tune as the crisp, morning wind ripped through the cab of my pickup truck. My ride or die, a Golden Retriever named Tinker, sat beside me, her gaze fixed on the open road with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and her fur blowing in the breeze.

  When we pulled up to Carla's, Tinker waited patiently for me to let her out, then bound out of the truck and ran for the house, barking as she went to announce her arrival. Mac, Carla's husband, opened the door and bent down to greet her while I meandered up the walkway.

  "Hey, Tilly!" he called, flashing his big white smile while waving.

  "Hi, Mac."

  He gave me a quick hug and then motioned me inside.

  "Carla will be ready in a minute. She's running late. As usual." Irritation laced his voice, and I smiled.

  "You had to know that when you married her," I teased.

  "I did, but I foolishly thought it would get better. I've been thinking about setting the clocks in the house ten minutes early and not telling her so she finally gets on schedule. She's perpetually ten minutes late."

  "I don't know if that will help," I said with a laugh.

  "Let me go get her and tell her you're here. Have a seat in the kitchen, or wherever you want."

  I nodded and headed for the kitchen while Tinker followed. She lay under the table while I helped myself to a cup of coffee.

  Footsteps sounded from the second floor as I sipped.

  "I'll be down in a minute, Tilly!" Carla yelled. "I'm running late!"

  "Take your time!"

  After all, I had a cup of coffee to finish.

  Carla's cat, Francis, strutted in and glared at Tinker from a safe distance. The white ball of fluff didn't particularly like dogs, but Tinker seemed determined to be loved. Her tail wagged, hitting my foot with a thump, thump, thump.

  "Come here, Francis," I said as I patted my leg. "Tinker isn't going to hurt you."

  The cat cast his stare on me, then turned around and strutted into the living room while Tinker whined.

  "It's okay, girl," I said, reaching down and scratching her head. "You can't be everyone's friend, no matter how hard you try. People are going to dislike you simply because of who you are."

  Definitely a hard life lesson that everyone needed to learn, even my sweet dog.

  With a huff, Tinker closed her eyes and set her head on her paws, obviously disappointed that Francis had once again snubbed her attempts at friendship.

  Even though winter was just around the corner and the outside air held a bit of a chill, Carla's kitchen with its grass-green paint and white cabinets reminded me of spring. I'd spent a lot of time with her at the table, and I considered her house my second home.

  Ten minutes later, it sounded like a herd of elephants thundered down the stairs. But no, just Carla. How could someone so thin make so much noise?

  "Sorry about that," she said. "I got caught up in my email."

  "No worries," I replied as I stood and gave her a hug. "I just enjoyed a cup of coffee."

  Carla leaned down and pet Tinker's head. "Are you ready to go, or should we have another?"

  "Let's go," I replied, grabbing my bag. "I'll drive. You don't need your Honda covered in dog hair."

  "But Tinker isn't any ordinary dog," she said in a baby voice as she continued to stroke the golden brow. "She can shed in my car at any time."

  "You might change your mind on that," I said with a laugh. "I'm driving."

  "Bye, Mac!" Carla yelled as we left the house.

  She slid into the front seat next to me so Tinker could have the window. I loved my friend wanted my dog to be happy. Besides, we both knew Tinker would make our lives miserable if she didn't get the air blowing through her fur.

  "This is really nice for you and Debbie to do," Carla said as we pulled away from the curb. "I'm sure the teachers will appreciate it."

  "I hope so. They have tough jobs. They deserve to have a delicious lunch every day."

  Even though I didn't have any kids and I never would unless I adopted, that didn't mean I couldn't participate in the education system. School had started a month ago, and Debbie had heard that some of the teachers were having particularly difficult classes this year. So, we decided to throw our own teacher appreciation day. I bought some burritos from the Mexican restaurant Carla managed and Debbie was baking donuts for dessert. We'd deliver all to the school this morning before the lunch bell rang.

  "How's your new boyfriend?" Carla asked.

  "Ugh. He's not my boyfriend. I've told you that a hundred times."

  "Tilly, I don't know when you're going to admit he is."

  "We're friends. That's it."

  "Okay. How is he?"

  "He's fine," I replied as a blush crawled up my neck and settled in my cheeks.

  Derek York had moved into the house next to mine after his father had been murdered there. I found him sweet, charming, funny and so good looking, but he scared me to death. If I ever admitted we were dating, I was afraid I'd mess it all up. My marriage had crashed and burned without me even knowing and my husband had left me for a waitress he'd impregnated. If I admitted I had feelings for Derek and he ended up taking the same path as my ex-husband, I didn't know if I could handle the pain. It was easier to keep things in the friend zone, so to speak. Yes, we did hang out quite a bit and I loved being with him. But I couldn't bring myself to head into deeper waters.

  "Have you kissed him yet?" Carla asked.

  I glanced ov
er at her to find a smile turning her lips, as if she enjoyed giving me the third degree. "No."

  "Don't you want to?" she continued. "He's cute, Tilly. It's obvious he likes you. I don't understand why you just don't go for it."

  My roadblock was my own insecurity and I didn't want a lecture from Carla on how I needed to change and trust Derek with my feelings. I already knew all these things, but I couldn't get past my inner turmoil.

  "Can we just please discuss something else?" I asked.

  "Fine," she replied with a sigh. "What's Debbie up to? I haven't heard from her in a couple of days."

  Our friend Debbie ran the bakery, Debbie's Deliciousness, in Oak Peak, where she and I both lived. She was also the Tri-Town gossip queen. Her bakery sat two doors down from my job at the paper.

  Carla lived and worked in Cedarville, a small town located about thirty miles away.

  "She's good,” I said. “That sugar-free line she developed is taking off like gangbusters."

  "Is that one woman still working for her?"

  "No. She ended up quitting."

  "Debbie is a perfectionist," Carla said. "Bet she'd be really hard to work for."

  "I know. Speaking of which, did you get your raise?"

  "Nope."

  I glanced over at Carla to find her mouth pinched in anger while she crossed her arms over her chest.

  "I've been managing that restaurant for almost two years and he can't give me a raise. It's so infuriating!"

  "I'm sorry, Carla. Did he give you a reason?"

  "He said he couldn't afford it, but I don't understand that. Profits are up. Costs are down. We're busier than ever. I mean, most nights, I'm running the darn place."

  "Is he there at all?"

  "Barely. Sometimes he's there in the morning and he may work the lunchtime crowd but takes off at dinner. He may return after closing to count the money."

  "Maybe you need to find a new job, Carla."

  "I know. I've looked around a bit, but I haven't found anything in management. I don't want to go back to serving again."

  We rode in silence for a few moments. When I pulled up in front of the restaurant, I turned to my friend. "You could always go to work for Debbie."

  Carla burst out laughing. "Not on your life."

  "I agree. She'd be an awful boss."

  We exited the truck through the driver door and I walked around to the passenger side to give Tinker a quick snuggle. "I'll be right back."

  As I followed Carla into Martinez's Mexican Fiesta, I wondered what the real reason was for the woman not getting her raise. Perhaps it all came down to Jake Martinez being a low-life scumbag. Carla had put her heart and soul into the restaurant. She'd found local farmers to purchase from, discovered ways to cut costs, and was responsible for all the scheduling. She did run the place and deserved to be compensated for it, especially if Jake showed up less and less. Thankfully, my boss, Harold, was more than happy to share the bounty the paper generated. He showed his appreciation for my hard work.

  Carla pulled on the front door. When it didn't open, she fiddled with her keys while trying to find the correct one. "I'm surprised Jake or the chef, José, isn't here yet."

  "Maybe they're running late as well."

  She inserted the right key and unlocked the door. I went inside and allowed a minute for my eyes to adjust.

  "That's weird that the lights in back are on," she said. "Jake always turns them off before he leaves. He was here last night when I went home."

  Not only did the restaurant have amazing food, but the red, yellow and green decorations were super cute. I especially liked the three-foot-high gray donkey with two six-packs of beer slung over his back in a red and yellow carrier.

  "I'll be right back," Carla said.

  I nodded and began my stroll through the restaurant.

  Vintage black and white pictures of Mexican people lined the walls. I loved looking at them and exploring the heritage. Women making tortillas. Men with guns strapped to their sides. Kids kicking a ball around barefoot in the dirt. The flashback of history always captivated me, and as I stared at the brown, weathered faces, I wondered about their lives, their secrets, their happiness.

  Without the music and the din of people talking, the restaurant felt strange... almost like its heartbeat had gone missing. A chill ran over my skin as I continued my perusal. I loved Martinez's Mexican Fiesta—they had the best food and a fantastic, upbeat atmosphere. But being in there with just Carla made me uneasy, like I was somewhere I didn't belong and I was about to get caught.

  I rounded a corner and gasped. A hand dangled from a booth, but I couldn't see the rest of the person.

  "Hello?" I said, afraid to approach.

  No answer, and that hand didn't move.

  "Carla!" I yelled, taking a couple steps back, my heart thundering.

  "What?"

  "Come here!"

  I couldn't take my gaze from the fingertips.

  She rounded the corner with my tin of burritos. "What's up, Tilly? You didn't find a bug, did you? I just had this place sprayed last week."

  "No," I whispered as I lifted my arm and pointed at the hand.

  "Jake?" Carla said. "Is that you?"

  She hurried over to the booth and gasped, dropping the burritos. My lunch for the teachers splashed all over the floor, the red sauce covering the dangling arm. "Oh, my word!"

  I raced over to her, swallowing past the fear caught in my throat. It was definitely Jake Martinez, and based on the glazed look in his eyes, the foam around his mouth, the blue tinge on his skin, he was dead. His face lay millimeters away from a plate of old nachos.

  "We need to call the police," I said as I felt his neck for a pulse. Frankly, I would have been shocked to find one.

  Carla stood rooted in place with her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

  Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time I'd found a body. My neighbor, Mr. York, had been murdered during the summer and I'd discovered him with a knife sticking out of his chest. I didn't see any wounds on Jake Martinez, so perhaps he'd died of natural causes.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1 as I studied him. The table was littered with a checkbook, receipts and ledgers, as well as a copy of the Tri-Town Times, the newspaper where I worked.

  "What's your emergency?"

  "We found... someone's dead. Jake Martinez in Cedarville is dead."

  "Where are you at?"

  "His restaurant," I replied as I the checkbook from the table to read off the address.

  "We'll be there shortly."

  "Let's sit outside," I said, taking Carla's hand and maneuvering her around the spilled burritos.

  We plopped down on the walkway by the front door and leaned against the side of the building.

  "I can't believe this," she whispered.

  "Me neither," I muttered.

  The second time finding a dead body upset me as much as the first. My stomach churned and I rubbed my temples with shaky hands as a headache began to form behind my eyes.

  Hopefully, this time it wasn't a murder.

  2

  As two Sheriff's units pulled up, I groaned when I realized it was Sheriff Connor in one car and Deputy Byron Mills in the other. Byron and I had dated for a fleeting period and it hadn't worked out. Sheriff Connor hated me because I’d solved the murder of my neighbor, Mr. York, and he hadn't.

  I would have thought he'd be happy to have a killer out of the Tri-Town community, but he'd been furious when I went to him with the murderer's recorded confession. He'd wanted me to be guilty and hadn't gotten his way.

  Besides, I'd outsmarted him.

  I rose to my feet and waited as they came up the walkway and Tilly barked at them.

  "Why am I not surprised to find you here?" the sheriff said. "Where's the body?"

  "Inside," I replied, ignoring his comment.

  "What are you doing here, Tilly?" Byron asked as soon as the door closed behind the Sheriff.
r />   "I came down with Carla to get some burritos for the teacher appreciation lunch Debbie and I were throwing at Oak Peak High School."

  "And you found Jake Martinez dead?"

  "Yes."

  He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. With his brown hair, brown eyes, and a well-maintained physique, he was pretty to look at, but he bored me to tears. In fact, he'd given me chickens as a gift and I still didn't know whether to be offended by it or not, especially when he'd stated how, upon seeing the hens, he’d immediately thought of me.

  "You're like an angel of death, Tilly," he muttered, then opened the front door.

  "That's not very nice!" I yelled after him.

  What a jerk. It wasn't my fault I'd found another dead person. It's not like I went out searching for them.

  I glanced down at Carla, who simply stared at the cement, and I realized she may very well be in shock.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "I honestly don't know. I... I can't believe this."

  "Let's get you home," I said. "I'll call and make sure Mac's there."

  As I pulled out my phone again, Sheriff Connor exited the restaurant.

  "Since you two are here, I need your statements."

  "Can it wait?" I asked. "Carla is really upset."

  He glanced over at my friend then back at me. 'No, it can't wait, Tilly. You just found a dead man. We need to get your statement."

  As he pulled out a notebook from his back pocket, Carla began to cry, but the Sheriff didn't seem to care, which didn't surprise me in the least.

  "What are you two doing here?" he asked. "The restaurant isn't even open."