Turkey Tortilla Taboo: Snips and Snails Cafe, #7

By Elizabeth Rain

The lines are drawn, the stakes are mounting, and the race is on in the election for Veil Fall's next Chief of Police.

Juli knows Larry Jokerbridge is a liar, a cheat, and a first-class jerk. He'll stop at nothing to win and come out on top; and see Jerry Watson lose.

And then they find the first body...

It will be up to Juli Mason to solve the case and find out if winning at any cost for the Chief also makes him willing to commit murder…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Rain
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223319559

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE 

The sidewalks rolled up in Veil Falls past eleven o’clock on a weeknight. It was a given in the small bayside community with a population of less than three thousand residents. Even if almost half of them possessed a modicum of magical abilities that set them apart from most of the fully human population, they all had jobs. Most of them started early.

But not everyone in the Lake District had to worry about a nine to five routine. Some had given that daily grind up years before.

Joe didn’t miss the early hours or the long work weeks. But other sorrows kept him up at night while the rest of the world slept, memories that he’d have preferred to forget if he were able.

But he’d be thankful for the small pleasures. He settled down on his favorite bench. The streetlight above had gone out a while back, and nobody had bothered to replace the bulb. It left him wreathed in shadows, a silent part of the landscape, as he carefully unwrapped the foil package in his hands to reveal a lovely roast beef sandwich with all the fixings. Separately wrapped in Saran next to it, was a large slice of Bertie Keystone’s famous walnut cake. The head cook of Snips and Snails Café treated him well, and he could always count on a lovely supper whenever he knocked on their back service door after closing. Maybe it was because she’d been where he was once, making her home on the streets, relying on the generosity of others to lend a helping hand when they were able. Whatever the case, he appreciated her way around a kitchen. He lifted the still warm sandwich, took a large bite, and moaned. He chewed, looking around, glad of the unexpected warmth of the night, because fall was coming quickly, and it wouldn’t be long before it turned into winter snow, brittle ice, and frozen toes. He’d be spending his nights at the homeless shelter then, taking advantage of the hospitality, horrible coffee, and warm beds offered there. And he’d have to wear the socks. He’d have to pull them out of storage at the bottom of his shopping cart.

From his vantage point, he could just make out the alley that ran between Witchins and Snips and Snails. A slender feline head peeked out and hesitated. Gilly, the restaurant’s resident familiar, stared in his direction. He gave her a curt nod. She inclined her nose back in acknowledgment before turning to wander along the darkened edge of the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Whether she was looking for a late-night snack or companionship of a different sort was anybody’s guess.

Joe turned back to his dinner, enjoying the solitude of the night.

He was licking the last crumbs of Bertie’s cake from his fingers when he heard footfalls approaching. It made him frown—and not just because he didn’t like company much. Everyone knew he was a recluse and proud of the fact. Something about the shuffle, shuffle, slide was...familiar.

His scowl deepened, the cake forgotten as he stared into the shadows, trying to make out the features of the lone pedestrian walking his way. He made it his business to know most everyone in Veil Falls. Joe wasn’t the most sociable, but he enjoyed observing people as well as the next guy. Humans and Magicals were like chickens in his opinion: busy, confusing, and sometimes hilarious to watch. For Joe, it was a cheap form of entertainment he could afford.

This was different, and he absently wadded the foil wrapping into a ball, his fingers bunching about the tin as he squinted in the faint light, trying to make out the approaching figure as he drew abreast of him and continued on past without acknowledgment. But he hadn’t missed the slide of dark eyes over his person, taking him in. It wasn’t unexpected. Most people only saw what made them comfortable. It was easier to ignore the rest, and as a homeless citizen in Veil Falls, he was used to that lack of recognition. Still, Joe was curious. He knew that gait, that hint of quiet authority. He remembered it from another time.

Before he thought better of it, he yelled out, his voice rusty from disuse. Hey, there. Boss! He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they felt right and familiar, as if he’d said much the same in another life and place.

The figure froze in mid-stride as if he’d received a shock. Joe reasoned he was probably afraid he was about to get mugged.

Slowly, the dim figure turned slightly in his direction. I don’t have any money to give you. You’re wasting your time.

I don’t want money. Don’t need it, Joe said back stubbornly, blinking.

Good night to you, then. The stranger turned back and continued on.

Do I know you?

The man never paused, tossing back over his shoulder flatly, No. We’ve never met.

Joe knew that was bollocks as soon as the guy said it. He got to his feet, wincing at the creak of old bones and stiff joints. He forced his feet forward, tossing the ball of tin into a waste can as he passed by—he was no litter bug.

I think we do. But not from here. In my other life, I knew you. I’m sure of it.

The man jerked to a halt then. Joe sensed a sudden bitter irritation in the stiffened shoulders. "And I’m telling you, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. Leave it alone, man."

The past nagged at Joe, even as his instincts were screaming at him to let it be, that maybe the other man was right, and allowing for ignorance might be healthier for him. He knew all about those who didn’t wish to be found.

Pure stubbornness pulled him forward anyhow. I can’t. Slow down, let me think... Not in Veil Falls. Was it Marquette? I spent a couple of years there...

Get away from me. I’ll call the cops.

Joe considered. Unless it was that useless, wannabe police chief, Jerry and Anna were pretty cool. This stranger scared him more. No. You won’t call them.

What makes you think I won’t? he hissed, walking faster as if distance would quit the homeless guy’s presence sooner.

Joe struggled to keep up, his old bones popping as he was forced to lengthen his stride.

The cops know me. They don’t know you. But I do.

Approaching from the opposite end of the street, two young men stumbled and faltered. Likely, they were walking home from the local bar, too inebriated to drive. The stranger gave them a wide berth, ignoring them when they slurred a jovial greeting in his direction. They didn’t have one for him as they staggered on past.

How about Munising? Do I know you from there? I worked at a gas station on the east end for a few months.

"Get away from me. You and me? We don’t know each other! We don’t exactly mingle in the same crowds," he added cruelly.

Joe didn’t take offense. No, that’s right. We didn’t, did we? But I called you Boss just the same. How come I remember that?

Because you’re a worthless vagrant with nothing better to do than harass innocent people on the streets.

I wasn’t always. Nigel? Kyle? Owens? I’m close aren’t I...Boss?

Finally, the stranger came to a halt. Joe stopped as well, turning back to see if the pair of drunks were still there. He was almost disappointed to realize they’d turned off somewhere. He and this stranger that he was sure he knew were alone, and a faint shiver of unease trickled along his spine.

"You aren’t going to leave it be, are you?" the other man asked gravely.

Joe watched as the man turned and faced him fully and looked up. He wasn’t a large guy, but he was bigger and broader than Joe, who’d always been just south of a buck sixty at his heaviest.

I can’t. It’s important that I remember.

But Joe wondered if it was wise. He realized they were a way past his own comfortable alley and the waterproof box the area businessmen and women had set up for him with his own cot and pillow because he refused to live anywhere else.

He gasped in alarm when the stranger began walking towards him. His knees knocked together, and he resisted the urge to take several steps back. When the faint light from the streetlight hit the other man’s face, he didn’t flinch away. Joe frowned in confusion. You don’t look right. How do I know you when I’ve never seen you before?

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t afford to take the chance that you’ll figure it out.

What?

Joe realized he was within a matter of feet, but his hands were still buried deep inside the old-fashioned trench coat he wore that concealed his build. A broad-brimmed hat perched atop a well-formed skull, revealing a growth of stubble and intent eyes and bad intentions.

Joe’s survival instincts finally kicked in. Ah...I can see now that I was mistaken. I thought you were someone else. From the dentist’s office.

The stranger sighed. Now, why you want to go and lie like that? We both know you haven’t seen one in at least ten years. Besides, let me help you out. You know me, but not from any of those places. Think back farther. You were younger and stronger, and you were one of my best workers, weren’t you, William?

Joe gasped in sudden fear. Only one other person besides his mom had ever called him by his given name. It wasn’t what he went by. He was just Joe to everyone else.

You... he whispered, fear making his voice weak. He took several more steps back in alarm as the other man closed in. He removed his hands from his pockets, and Joe was relieved when he didn’t see the glint of anything metallic with it. He didn’t have a knife or a gun.

His relief was short-lived when those fingers flexed and bent, forming fists. I promise not to tell anyone. You’re a ghost is all, not really here.

I wish I could take that chance, I really do.

Joe looked around and realized he had backed away and down a small alley between two businesses, and away from any prying eyes that might be around.

He opened his mouth to yell—maybe the drunks would hear. He considered shouting, "Free beer, right here!" That would bring them running.

He didn’t have the chance. Strong hands were at his throat then. He reached up, his hands prying at the heavy fingers as they hauled him in close. He tried to gasp, take a breath, and break free.

But it was too late. He should have kept his mouth shut and let the secrets remain buried.

THE CHIEF OF POLICE stared up at the whirring blades, some fifty feet above the crowd in the air. He recognized Jacob Crawley at the controls. From the open door of the chopper, Juli Mason waved at him, her grin more of a grimace as she reached into the box and grabbed another handful of fliers and sent them winging into the air through the door. The little pamphlets caught the wind from the blades and spun like little whirligigs through the air, fluttering to the ground for the waiting townspeople to grab up. He batted in irritation when a couple smacked him in the forehead, making him wince. He was hosting a small campaign rally to inform the people on why it was in their best interests to vote him in —and Jerry Watson out—of the upcoming election.

This was an interruption to his plans, pure and simple. Mentally, he ticked off all the misdemeanors and fines he could slap them with for their interference and infringement on his time.

He watched as several in the crowd bent down, grabbing at the fliers, and spreading them open. Suspicion bloomed when the mood of the crowd shifted from mild interest to excitement as they began waving the fliers, their hands shooting up in the air. The local news team and a slew of reporters—that he’d taken great pains to make sure were present and filming it all—shifted their focus and cameras away from the center stage. They zeroed in on the growing interest from the crowd, angling high for a quick shot of the chopper and the pamphlet distributing owner of Snips and Snails Café. He smiled thinly at the man in the front row, gesticulating wildly and jumping up and down. Gritting his teeth, Larry called on him. He didn’t have a choice. The cameraman swung around for a close-up.

Chief! Was this your idea? A Mystery Tour as part of a Wine and Mystery Festival in October? With riddles and a prize even!

Sure. And why don’t you tell us what the clues are supposed to point to? He didn’t really want to know. But the crowd did, hanging on every word he spoke.

The man nodded briskly and read the clue out loud. A buzz of whispering ensued as the crowd began discussing it in earnest. Which was maybe a good thing. Because if they were talking to one another, they weren’t looking at the expression on their chief’s face. They didn’t know the answer, but Larry did. And it didn’t bode well for his chances in the upcoming election if the identity of the villain, and answer to the riddle, got out. His teeth grinding together as he tried to control his temper, his eyes moved out and over the crowd to the street and traffic beyond. He glared at his chief deputy, Jerry Watson, who was directing traffic. Only, just now he’d stopped. Traffic had ground to a standstill. Larry watched him straighten and their eyes met across the distance. In slow motion, he reached up, removed his hat, and took a bow. The slight was deliberate and perfect. This was his deputy’s doing, his plan to defame Larry’s good name and take the election from him come November. Larry fumed and smiled through the next twenty minutes of questions, pretending for the benefit of the crowd, when all he wanted to do was scream. He stopped smiling the minute the back door on the limo closed, the tinted windows concealing his expression. Downtown. The precinct, he snarled. The chauffeur never said a word.

LARRY JOKERBRIDGE SLAMMED the door of his office, turning to the man who sat casually in his chair.

I’m shutting them down. How dare he! Has he forgotten who gave him the job in the first place? It’s blackmail, pure and simple, and I’m not having it! he raged, pacing back and forth and waving his hands. His newly hired campaign manager, Morrie Wright, stared on impassively. Larry figured controlling his expression just came with the resume.

At that moment, Larry was hoping for sympathy and not getting it. He considered firing the posturing little man—who’d come highly recommended by the mayor in Sault Ste. Marie—on the spot.

They’ll ruin me if all of that gets out. I didn’t force her to take the money. She could have just quit and gone back to that little hole in southern Michigan she crawled out of, and no one would have been the wiser, he blustered.

Morrie finally sat up, a modicum of interest showing at his last statement. What money? Are you involved in bribery or blackmail? Because that’s illegal.

Larry hesitated. He didn’t like the sudden shark-like cunning in the little man’s eyes. What? No, of course not. I just offered to help someone I thought was down on their luck. She declined. Besides, I thought I hired you on to help me run and win this race for police chief.

You hired me because I’m the best at what I do. And I do it by the book, so that I can keep on earning those big bucks...from the outside of a jail cell!

Larry considered, his eyes narrowing. Well, yes, of course that’s what this is. You came highly recommended. What I’m saying is that Jerry Watson has it in for me, and he’ll use any means at his disposal to make me look bad. He plans to have the citizens of Veil Falls convinced I took advantage of a down on her luck divorcée. I don’t know what possessed her to lose her cool like that and paint all that graffiti all over town. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out he put the moves on her or something and that was her way of getting revenge.

Morrie continued to stare at him with suspicion. Is that all? I hope I don’t find it’s something else. As for what you’re going to do—you’re going to let it go. All of it. You can’t stop the festival or the mystery crawl and the revealing of all those riddles. If you do, it only makes you look guilty and as if you have something to hide...and you don’t, do you?

What? Larry blurted.

Have any secrets I should know about.

No! Of course not. Honesty in business dealings is important, Larry lied smoothly with a suave smile.

He wasn’t sure Morrie bought it.

Finally, his mouth pinched, his manager spoke. Right, then. You’re going to ignore what’s going on with that festival. Denial is suspicious and it won’t gain you voters. Instead, you need to work on improving your own reputation.

Larry stiffened, pulling himself upright and blustering, What are you talking about? My reputation is beyond dispute.

It is, if that reputation shows the people a blustering blowhard of a bully who is only concerned with padding his own coffers.

How dare you! I’ll have you know—

Oh, shut up. Do you ever listen to yourself speak? Do you want to win this election, or not?

I do. It’s why I hired you.

Then, you’ll do what I say. Exactly.

Larry chewed on the inside of his cheek in frustration, thinking. What are you suggesting?

Simple. Be the candidate they’re looking for, the man they like and respect and feel like they can bring their problems to.

That’s preposterous, I’m the long arm of the law, not some sympathetic patsy weakling.

Morrie got to his feet, swinging his charcoal gray jacket from the back of the chair.

Larry stared at him in confusion, baffled. What are you doing?

Leaving. You’ve obviously got this all figured out. What do you need me for?

Wait, I hired you—

I quit. There, does that make you feel better? Will it help assuage your conscience?

I paid your retainer fee up front.

Thank you. It was nonrefundable, Morrie said with a polite smile.

I don’t recall that being part of the agreement.

Reading glasses. They do the trick. It was part of the contract, page three I believe, at the bottom, fifth paragraph.

Larry growled, wondering how many steps it would take him to reach the pompous little wimp and wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze. Fine! Just what would you have me do, then, anyhow?

Play nice for a change. Find out what their pain points really are. Is it the schools, or the unemployment status? Figure that out and offer them a solution that won’t cost them anything but their time. Show them their problems are yours and you aim to fix them. Do that and it comes with a bonus.

How do you figure? Larry snarled, scowling fiercely.

Easy. You’ll be the hero—the good guy they can depend on. It will make the mystery crawl and the gradual revelation of those riddles look like a bunch of people with sour grapes just out to make you look bad.

Larry liked the sound of that. Won’t they suddenly suspect my unexpected behavior? It’s never been how I’ve rolled before. I’ve always had a firm hand on the job.

Morrie nodded grimly. And look how well it’s done for you. If you don’t do something soon, this is the last term you’ll serve. You know that, right?

What about Jerry? And half the precinct that is on his side. Nobody likes me. Did he sound whiny?

Experience shows that people have a short memory if they are provided with enough incentive to change their minds. You’re going to do that. Turn over a new leaf, Chief. Be their champion.

What’s to say Jerry and his constituents won’t do the same thing?

You. Keep your deputy too busy to recover and fight back. After all, you are the police chief, aren’t you? For the first time, Morrie Wright smiled.

Larry Jokerbridge blinked in alarm. His friend, the mayor, had referred to Morrie Wright as ruthless and cunning.

Now Larry secretly added terrifying to the description.

CHAPTER TWO 

Ineeded to get chopping if I was going to have the