Murder at the Truck Stop: A Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery (Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series Book 16) Read online

  Susie had listened carefully while he was talking and decided that Jet was the answer to her problem. If he was told that Kimberly was on her way to becoming a prostitute or might even already be a prostitute, he’d have to find a way to get rid of her to keep his promise to the divine spirit who had visited him on that fateful night when he was in jail. Once Kimberly was gone, she, Little Paul, and Flips could once again be one happy family.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mac Ambrose had saved up enough money, and along with an inheritance and a large bank loan, had been able to buy the truck stop a few months earlier. He’d been a trucker for a long time and figured he knew as well as anybody what the needs of truckers were. His priorities had always been a place where he could shower and one that had a relaxation room equipped with a television, Wi-Fi, and hot coffee. He knew that’s what the truckers wanted when they stopped at a truck stop.

  His was one of the smaller truck stops and even though it provided enough money for him to live on and make his loan payment, he was always on the lookout for ways to increase his income.

  One of the ways he’d discovered he could do that, although it wasn’t going to show up on his tax return, was to accept a proposition that a woman, Lizzie Riley, had made to him shortly after he’d taken ownership of the truck stop.

  Lizzie lived in a little home located in a rundown housing tract across the highway from the truck stop. Mac had no idea why or when the small housing tract had been built, but several of his employees lived there. He supposed living there and walking across the highway to work was probably preferable to spending an hour driving each way to and from a job in Cedar Bay, the town closest to the truck stop.

  Lizzie had made an appointment with him as if she was going to be selling him something, and in a way she was. “Mr. Ambrose, I have a proposition for you. I was thinking that if you would allow me to be available to the truckers at my home across the highway, and don’t remove me from the truck yard or call the sheriff when I’m there occasionally stirring up interest, I’d split the proceeds from my ‘trucker earnings’ with you.”

  “Lizzie, how much do you think you could earn in a 24-hour period?” he’d asked.

  “Based on past experience, somewhere between $300 and $500. Some days are better than others. Actually, I had the same working agreement with the previous owner and it was a win-win situation for both of us.”

  “Let me think about it.” He handed her a piece of paper and a pen. “Write your phone number down, and I’ll call you this afternoon.”

  He well knew from his trucker days that Lot Lizards were a given at a truck stop. It took him all of five seconds to think about it, but he didn’t want to appear too anxious, so he waited several hours before calling her and telling her they had a deal.

  She and Mac had agreed that she’d leave an envelope in the suggestions box just inside the truck stop each Monday morning with Mac’s share from the previous week. She was easy to work with, the truckers loved her, and they loved the convenience of a warm bed rather than the back of their cab.

  Two weeks ago, Lizzie had called Mac and asked if she could meet with him. Lizzie (he never did know if that was her real name), had said, “Mac, I’m pretty sure Kimberly is cutting into my territory. I heard she’s been soliciting some of the truckers. You know she lives across the highway in the same tract where I live, actually next door to me. She’s your employee, and you need to do something about it. By the way,” she said, “did you know she’s running a bookmaking ring?”

  Mac was clearly shocked by what she’d just said. “Lizzie, this is the first I’ve heard of either of those things. There’s no way Kimberly has enough money of her own to front an illegal gambling operation. That’s impossible. I mean, the girl can’t even afford a car, and her mother works double shifts here.”

  “Does the name Snacks ring a bell?” Lizzie asked.

  “Yes, he’s one of the truckers who works for Pete Richards. Several of Pete’s truckers come here almost every day, and Snacks is one of them. I’ve met him several times, but I can’t say I really know him.”

  “Well, from what I hear, he’s the one who fronted the money for Kimberly’s bookmaking operation. She gives him a percent of what she makes and they both make money. The bookmaking thing has really taken off in the last month. I understand they’re doing four figures a week.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s just unbelievable. To think it’s been happening in my truck stop, and I didn’t know anything about it. I could lose the truck stop if I got busted for illegal gambling taking place here.”

  And I just wish I’d thought of it, Mac thought. Four figures a week? And I’m not seeing a penny of it?

  “Lizzie, how did you find out about all of this?”

  “One of the truckers reached into his wallet to pay me last night and it was empty. He laughed and said he’d forgotten to go to the ATM and get some money after he’d lost a bundle on a bet he’d placed with Kimberly. I told him I thought she didn’t have any money. That’s when he told me about Snacks and her. He also told me she was making some money doing the same thing I was doing. He laughed and said she was getting richer than any of the truckers. So, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I need to think about both of these things. First of all, I can’t have gambling taking place here on the premises. Secondly, I certainly don’t want her cutting in on your trade. You and I are doing very well with it. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” He stood up, indicating their meeting was over.

  “By the way, Lizzie, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention either of these two things to anyone. Hate for people to get the wrong impression about the truck stop.”

  “Yeah, me too. Let me know what happens, and I sure hope our problem goes away.”

  “I can almost guarantee you that it will. I’m going to take care of it, you can count on that,” Mac said.

  “Well, let’s put it this way. If you don’t, I will.”

  “Lizzie, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Then forget I ever said it.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Kelly reached out and turned off the alarm before it could wake her husband, Mike, the Beaver County sheriff. It was only 5:00 in the morning, a little too early for him to get up.

  He’d sensed that Kelly had moved and said, “Kelly, I don’t feel good. Do you think I’m running a fever?”

  She reached over and felt his forehead. It was burning up. “Not only do I think you have a fever, I think you have a very high fever. Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “No, I don’t really hurt. I’m just achy all over. It’s probably a touch of the flu. It’s been going around the station.”

  “Mike, did you ever get your flu shot?” Kelly asked with a displeased look on her face.

  “Well, I was going to, and then I got busy and forgot about it. Right now, I sure wish I would have taken the time to get it. I think I better call in sick today and stay home. I don’t want to spread any germs at the station. At least you had your flu shot.”

  “You’re right, I did. I’ll get some aspirin for you, and I want you to take two every four hours all day. Are you up to eating anything?”

  “No, the mere thought of food gives my stomach that elevator feeling. What I’d really like is a glass of water.”

  “I’ll get a pitcher of it and leave it on the nightstand for you. I’ll also open the great room doors a little, so the dogs can go in and out and you won’t have to worry about them. Back in a couple of minutes.”

  She returned shortly and said, “Rebel, Lady, and Skyy have all been fed. Here’s your aspirin and water, and I think sleep is probably the best thing for you. Keep your phone handy, and I’ll call you later.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re going on the truck run with Jesse today, right?”

  “Yes, I need to get to the coffee shop and open up for Roxie and Charlie. Jesse’s meeting me there at 6:00. I should be back
early this afternoon. Do you need me to do anything before I leave?”

  “No, I’ll probably be in the same place when you get back, because all I want to do is sleep.”

  She kissed her fingers and put them on his cheek. “Loves. Sleep well and I’ll call you later.”

  *****

  A few minutes later she saw Roxie, blond hair shining in the rising sunlight, waiting by the front door of the coffee shop. She’d been Kelly’s manager for more years than she could count, and Kelly was well aware that a lot of the people who came to Kelly’s Koffee Shop were there because of Roxie. Everyone loved her warmth, and Kelly was pretty sure that Roxie held the prize for the most hugs given in Cedar Bay.

  They couldn’t have been more different in looks. Along with her blond hair, Roxie had a warm, motherly figure, and a smile that lit up a room. Kelly was tall with dark hair which she usually wore in a bun with a silver hairpiece. The one thing they shared was that they both wore red t-shirts with the words “Kelly’s Koffee Shop” on them.

  “Morning, Roxie. Thanks for taking care of the shop today. I should be back before you close.”

  “Not a problem. Happy to help. Charlie’s been at the coffee shop long enough he starts making certain dishes for customers when he sees them get out of their car, because he knows that’s what they usually order. And I’ve called a couple of waitresses who’ve helped us in the past to work today. We’ll be fine. Anyway, be sure and tell Jesse hi for me. My brother, Pete, is a huge fan of his.”

  Roxie continued, “I understand there’s a group of guys who have been working for Pete for a long time and they used to be a very tight knit group, but Pete says he’s seen some splintering lately. They’ve pretty much adopted Jesse as one of their own, and Pete hopes it will bring them back to where they used to be, as far as closeness.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. As a matter of fact, going on this truck run today is about as far out of my element as I can get, but it sounded interesting. I guess there’s a whole different language they speak, at least to one another.”

  “I think you’re right. I remember one day Pete saying something about how he only did bumping docks now. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. I found out bumping docks is a trucker’s term for a job where nothing is required other than driving the truck up to the dock. Some trucking jobs require other work after you arrive at your stop, like physically unloading the truck. He said he’d been there and done that when he was younger, but he was too old to do it anymore.”

  “That explains something I’ve always wondered about,” Kelly said.

  “What’s that?” Roxie asked.

  “Well, we get truckers in the coffee shop from time to time, and I’d have to say a lot of them don’t look like they’d be able to physically unload their trucks. Think all that time sitting behind a steering wheel causes some of them to carry a lot more weight than is probably healthy. Ah, there’s Jesse now.”

  Jesse parked near the pier and got out of his truck. “Morning, Kelly, morning, Roxie,” he called out in a loud voice as he started to walk down the pier to where Kelly’s Koffee Shop was located.

  “Stay there, Jesse, I’m on my way,” Kelly yelled to him, “I need to drop something off in my car. It’s the grey one over there.” She turned to Roxie and said, “It’s in your capable hands. If I don’t make it back in time to close up, here’s the key. Thanks again.”

  “Have fun!” Roxie said as she waved at Jesse and walked into the coffee shop.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Can you manage that step up into the cab? It’s pretty darn high,” Jesse asked as he opened the passenger door of the truck cab for Kelly.

  “Yes, but I’ll bet short people have a tough time with a step this high.”

  “Yeah, several of the truckers’ wives accompany them on their routes. One of them is really short, and she keeps a little stool behind her seat. When they stop, her husband walks around to the passenger side of the cab, takes the stool from her, and puts it on the ground so she can get out. It’s kind of cute, but it’s also very practical.”

  Jesse got in the truck and started it up. He immediately turned on the radio and said somewhat apologetically, “Ms. K, I’m sorry, but I have to listen to this song first thing when I get on the road. It’s my lucky talisman.”

  The lyrics of Eddie Rabbit’s song, “Drivin’ My Life Away,” filled the cab of the truck. When Jesse started singing, “Well the truck stop cutie comin’ on to me tried to talk me into a ride. Said I wouldn’t be sorry,” Kelly joined in.

  When the song ended, Jesse said, “Every time I start the engine, I have to turn on that song. I know it’s crazy, but I have this feeling if I don’t listen to that song, something bad will happen.”

  “I remember when you and Cash used to listen to it, but I think I also remember it from when Cash was just a baby. You two must have been listening to someone other than Eddie Rabbit singing it. When did it originally come out?”

  “I read once it was in 1980, but there have been a lot of other artists who have sung it. Once I’d heard Rabbit sing it, I thought the rest of them paled by comparison, so that’s the version I listen to.”

  “You mentioned it was your talisman. Are truckers superstitious?”

  “Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t believe some of the things we do, and I’m sure they’d sound crazy to a layman.”

  “Now I’m curious. Tell me a few,” Kelly said.

  “Well, when we drive by a cemetery, we hold our breath. We always refer to our trucks as ‘she’ or ‘her,’ kind of like the way sailors refer to their ships. Those are a couple of them.”

  “This is fascinating. I’m assuming there are more.”

  Yes, truckers believe it’s unlucky to drive with a $50-dollar bill on them. This superstition comes from NASCAR. Joe Weatherly, who was a two-time NASCAR champion, had two $50-dollar bills in his shirt pocket when his car crashed and he died. From then on drivers thought that Grants, you know, the $50-dollar bills, were unlucky.”

  “The others I can understand, but I never would have thought of that one.”

  “Here are a couple more. When we finish a run, we always pat the dashboard and thank her for a job well done. And truckers believe it’s bad luck to cross a highway when we stop for a break because something bad will happen.”

  “So that means you always pull into a truck stop that’s on the right side of the highway?” Kelly asked.

  “You got it, Ms. K. This morning we’ll go to the truck stop that’s about an hour from here and get a cup of coffee. It’s on the right side of the highway,” Jesse said with a grin. “Several of the guys who work for Roxie’s brother, my boss, are often there about this time in the morning doing the same thing, getting a cup of coffee.”

  “I’ve seen television programs about truckers and heard that some of them have great nicknames. Do you have one?”

  “Not yet. I guess I haven’t been with the group long enough to do something that would earn me a nickname, but yes, there are definitely some good ones out there. Even a couple in Pete’s group.”

  “Such as?” Kelly asked turning toward him.

  “Well, let’s see. There’s Little Paul, Snacks, and Jet. Can you think of any reason why they’d have those nicknames?” he asked in return.

  Kelly was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’d think there’d be one of two reasons Little Paul has that name. Either he’s very small, or he’s very large.”

  “Bingo on the latter. He’s huge. Okay, that’s one. Next?”

  “Well, to me Snacks would indicate a guy who is always eating a snack, but that seems kind of simple.”

  “You’re right. It is simple, but so is Snacks. And yes, he’s always eating, so I assume that’s where his nickname comes from.”

  “The last one, Jet, seems like maybe he has black hair. You know, Jet is a hue of the color black,” Kelly said.

  “Yes, he does have black hair, but he’s also very good-looking. I reme
mber somewhere there was a guy named Jet in the movies. I think it was in that 1950’s movie called Giant, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson. Maybe it’s from that. I really haven’t known him long enough to find out.”

  “Tell me something, Jesse. Why do most of these guys drive trucks? What about their education? Do they need some kind of a degree in order to drive a truck?”

  “No degree is needed, but I’d say close to 50% of us have college degrees. You have to have a Class A license, and you have to learn how to drive one of these bad boys. Trust me, it takes awhile to get the hang of it, particularly backing into a small space.”

  “The mere thought of driving one of these things would send me into ongoing therapy. I have enough trouble when I have to parallel park my car.”

  “You get used to it. I think a lot of the truckers are like me. We don’t want to be tied down to a 9 to 5 job. It would feel like being in prison to me. Sure, there are things we have to do to keep this job, but it pays very well, probably a lot more than most college graduates make, plus you may remember how I love to read, and now I can listen to audio books all day and get paid for doing it,” he said with a laugh.

  “Jesse, I’ve always heard that truckers have their own language. Is that true?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. We use our CB’s to talk to each other and help out with information where there may be some problems, like a traffic jam, weather conditions, or something they’ve spotted on the road. When I turn on the CB later, you’ll probably be clueless as to what the trucker on the radio is talking about.”

  “Give me some examples.”

  “Okay, here goes. Four wheelers are cars. The granny lane is the far-right lane. The hammer lane is the far-left lane, and the sandwich lane is the middle lane. An alligator is a broken piece of tire in the road.”

  Kelly started laughing. “This is amazing. How long did it take you to learn the lingo?”

  “Not that long. When you think about it, the substitute words are pretty fitting.”