A Burned Out Baker: Classic Diner Mystery #7 (The Classic Diner Mysteries) by Jessica Beck

question,” I said.
    “That I’m not going to answer,” Cliff said as the hulk approached us.
    “I just figured it out,” Moose said as he turned to Cliff. “It was a message, wasn’t it?”
    “What are you talking about?” The thug got closer, but Cliff held up one hand, and the man stopped where he stood.
    “You wanted everyone else who owed you money to know that you weren’t messing around. How long will it take for word to get around that if your other clients don’t pay up promptly, they might have little fires of their own soon?”
    Cliff smiled at that, something that actually bothered me more than his threatening voice earlier. “That’s not bad, actually. There might just be a way to make this pay off in the long run after all.”
    “So then, you admit that Barry owed you money?” Moose asked.
    “I admit nothing,” Cliff said. “All I’m saying is that hypothetically, the situation might not be a total loss.”
    “Where were you this morning around five AM?” I asked him.
    “Are you actually asking me for my alibi?” he asked incredulously.
    “I am,” I said simply.
    Cliff shook his head. “It shouldn’t come as a big surprise to you that I’m not going to answer that either, but just to show you what a nice guy I am, because you’ve been so helpful, I’m going to let you both walk out of here right now of your own free will.”
    “And if we choose not to?” Moose asked.
    “Then Curtis and three of his friends will be delighted to show you the way,” Cliff said as three other men appeared from the office behind the desk.
    “Thanks for the offer, but we know the way out on our own,” I said as I took Moose’s arm.
    My grandfather was reluctant to go with me, but I finally managed to persuade him that it was time to leave.
    Once we were back outside, Moose pulled his arm free. “We didn’t have to leave, Victoria.”
    “Are you kidding? I didn’t want to ruin the Senior Bowling League,” I said. “Just think about what a mess you would have made handling all those thugs on your own.”
    “I could have stood my ground with them,” Moose said, though he knew just as much as I did that it was a ridiculous premise.
    “I’m sure that you could have, but this way you’ll be rested enough to tackle the rest of our suspects.”
    “Who did you have in mind next?” he asked me as he started the truck engine.
    “I’d like to have a chat with Sandy myself. The last I heard, she was working at the Starlight Diner out on Route 70 near Laurel Landing.”
    “Fine,” Moose said. “We can even order some pie while we’re there.”
    “You’re not really still hungry after all we had for lunch, are you?” I asked. My grandfather could put it away, but I was still a little surprised that he could eat anything so soon after lunch.
    “Pie doesn’t count, Victoria,” Moose said. “There’s always room for that.”
    “Fine by me,” I said. “I’m just having sweet tea myself.”
    “You say that now, but wait until you see their display case. I’m guessing that you won’t be able to refuse.”
    I was indeed a fan of the diner’s desserts, as my waistline attested whenever I went there. “Maybe we could just split a piece.”
    He laughed heartily at my suggestion. “Dream on. If you want some pie, you’d better order it yourself, because I’m not about to share.”
    “I know that all too well,” I said. Now that my grandfather was in a little better mood, I asked him, “What do you think about Cliff Pearson’s reaction to the news about Barry Jackson?”
    Moose hesitated a moment, and then he said, “My first impression was that he didn’t know about the fire until we told him. Did you see him pause when he heard the news?”
    “Maybe he was trying to think of something to say,” I said.
    “Exactly. If he’d been responsible for it himself, he’s the kind of guy to have a story ready for the cops or anyone else who asked him about it.”
    “So, you think