Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) by S. Dionne Moore Page B

enough spaghetti to warm your toes right up.”
    Lester’s face brightened. “Spaghetti!” He backed out the door, almost running over Carl Baereum and Chief Conrad. “Out of my way boys, LaTisha’s got something against good, moist earth stuck to the bottom of my work boots.”
    I nodded a greeting at Chief as he held the door for Lester’s exit.
    “Don’t have a thing against good dirt, Lester Riley. You wanting to drag it through my restaurant is what gets me riled.”
    Chief slid into a chair across from his wife, but not before laying one on her cheek. Just the way he ogled her you could tell his brain cells were depleting real quick, and when he covered her hand with his own, I figured I’d better get myself over there fast before they fell into each other. Still, it did my heart good to see love on display in all its finery.
    “Afternoon, Chief.”
    He tore his eyeballs away from Regina. “I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu.”
    “No need. Take a deep breath.”
    He did. “Ah.”
    “One plate of spaghetti and meatballs and a glass of sweet tea.”
    Chief gave the briefest of nods and returned his attention to Regina. I hid a satisfied smile. Hardy and I had done our best to get the two together and it made me feel sunshine in my soul to see them so happy.
    Lester Riley slipped back inside in his socks, one toe hanging out of a hole. He had the good grace to look ashamed. “Guess I need some new ones. Hate to throw away a pair of warm socks just because of a hole.”
    “Looks like if you cut your toenails you might not get so many holes. You want the counter or a table?”
    “Counter, that way me and Hardy can chew the fat.” He aimed his rear toward the stool, his eyes scanning the area. “Where is the old boy?”
    “Getting teeth.”
    Lester’s eyes lit. “Ah. Fake ones are never the same as real.”
    “I’m guessin ’ some are better than none. You ready for your speech Thursday morning?”
    He hiked himself up on the stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Got me some good ideas, but I’m not much with words. Say . . .”
    I set down a coffee mug in front of him, figuring I knew where he was leading. “You want Lisa’s Winter Wonderland or Highlander Grogg ?”
    “I’ll try the grogg . Just give me an eyepatch and a peg-leg. Argh !”
    I stared hard at that boy. “You sound like a heaving dog.” The brew sent up a wonderful cloud of scented steam as I poured. Loved the smell, hated the taste.
    “You want to write my speech for me, LaTisha ? You’ve always got such a way with words.”
    “Just say it plain, Lester. Flowery speeches aren’t going to win voters. Tell us what you want to accomplish and outline how you plan on accomplishing those things. Leave the big words and double-talk to Eugene. And if you can think up a good way for the school to buy up that property, that’d be a feather in your cap.”
    Lester sipped his coffee and waved away the menu I offered. “No more politics. Bring on those meatballs you were talking about.”
    “Smart man.”
    “I like to get mine while they’re piping hot and fresh,” Lester swiped a hand across his mouth. “And as soon as word gets out you’ve got spaghetti and meatballs, you’ll have yourself a regular stampede.”
    Another jingle and a stream of townsfolk came in. Carl Baereum and Flossie Monroe squeezed through the door at the same time, got stuck, retreated, and tried again, this time with Carl allowing her to precede him. Flossie seemed on edge, eyes darting about, lips a firm line. Carl got stuck holding the door for Betsy Taser as she herded a rather grim Eugene. Pardon. Mayor Taser . Carl, resigned to holding the door for the group, came in last, scowling at Eugene’s back. I’m guessin ’ their feud was still on and wondered what, exactly, had fueled the feud.
    “Hello, LaTisha ,” Betsy purred.
    I laid a jaundiced eye on her. “Good afternoon, Betsy, honey.” She hated when I called her