Murder at Mama Gene's Read online

  Murder at Mama Gene's

  Rachel Pinder

  Published by Rachel Pinder, 2022.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  MURDER AT MAMA GENE'S

  First edition. February 1, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 Rachel Pinder.

  ISBN: 979-8201375041

  Written by Rachel Pinder.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 | The Unexpected Incident

  Chapter 2 | 11 p.m.

  Chapter 3 | Midnight

  Chapter 4 | 1 a.m.

  Chapter 5 | Christmas, 1997

  Chapter 6 | 2 a.m.

  Chapter 7 | 3 a.m.

  Chapter 8 | 4 a.m.

  Chapter 9 | 4:30 a.m.

  Chapter 10 | 5 a.m.

  Chapter 11 | Sunrise | 6 a.m.

  Chapter 12 | That Blinding Light | 7 a.m.

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  Chapter 1

  The Unexpected Incident

  Planning the murder had been a delicate and demanding matter. Stella examined her watch and the darkening sky outside of her car window. It was time. She didn’t want to scare the children, nor could she chicken out. With one hand, she unbuckled her seat belt. “Let me out.”

  “Mom, it’s too far.” Felipe kept his eyes on the road.

  “It’s okay. I’ll walk.” She pointed to a stop sign on the corner of the dirt road. She didn’t want her kids going anywhere near that blasted hotel.

  “We’re leaving soon. Why does it matter?”

  “Let me out!”

  “Mom,” Lupe said, staring at her with wide eyes, “it’s too dark and cold.”

  Stella tapped on the back of the driver’s seat. “I’m late for work.”

  “All right, all right,” Felipe relented. “You wanted to take these back roads.”

  The brown Buick sprayed gravel as Felipe pulled off to the side of the road. Stella’s purse rattled as she closed the car door behind her.

  In the front seat, Lupe rolled down her window.

  Stella bent down to meet the gaze of two worried teenagers. “No TV. Homework.”

  “Okay.” Felipe rolled his eyes.

  Lupe reached for her mother and placed a hand over Stella’s tanned fingers. “Think you’ll get in trouble?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Stella gently pulled away.

  “But—” Lupe gulped. “What if he calls again?”

  “Don’t worry.” Felipe stroked his little sister’s pink coat. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  “Listen to your brother.” Stella looked Lupe directly in the eye then glanced at Felipe, who gave his mother a wink she found less than reassuring.

  Stella huffed. She’d worked to keep her kids in the dark about the details, but she knew Felipe had an inkling as to why they were suddenly relocating to California. He had come close to uncovering the expensive camera, so she’d had to give it back. She hoped she could count on her son to obey—this plan was their last hope. “Quit playing around, Felipe. This is serious.”

  For a moment, Felipe’s smile faltered, and he nodded. As Lupe slowly rolled up the window, his cheery demeanor returned. He playfully mouthed “California” in his mom’s direction. The old car pulled back onto the road.

  Stella straightened her hat and put on her knit gloves. Without looking back, she hustled through the grass until she came to Curry Street Crossing. There, she leaped onto the sidewalk and doubled her pace. By the time she made it across the bridge and through the woods, her heart was pounding in her chest. Stella paused behind the old hospital sign, just two hundred feet or so away from the hotel.

  Just one phone call left to make. Stella pulled her Motorola phone from her pocket, punched in the number, then brought the device to her ear.

  A voice on the other end answered. “Hello?”

  She spoke under her breath. “It’s me. I need to see you.”

  “Do you have something already?”

  “Yes.” She exhaled, hoping he wouldn’t see through her. “Come after eleven, and I want cash this time.” Stella flipped the phone shut.

  Quickening her pace, she made it to the hotel’s front stoop then paused for a silent prayer. Lord, please forgive me for what I must do. Protect me now. When it’s over, I promise to find a more honest way to pay my debts. I’ll go back to church. I’ll send the kids to Sunday school. Things will be different for us in California. Amen.

  She opened her tattered leather purse. Just like the rehearsal, she loaded her Glock, screwed on the silencer, carefully tucked the gun into her back pants pocket, then zipped up her purse.

  Stella twisted the rusted metal knob of the front door and swung it open. She barely got one foot on the shag carpet when a dimpled young man in a brown leather coat stormed past her through the door.

  “Took you long enough,” Will said. He marched through the parking lot to his Jeep. After slamming the door, Will’s tires screeched on the pavement, and he was gone.

  At five past ten, Stella placed her purse on the old wooden desk. She could smell Mama Gene’s cotton-candy perfume behind her right way.

  “You’re late!” the old woman shrieked.

  Stella removed her hat and gloves. “Traffic.”

  “Well.” Her boss’s broad shoulders shrugged under a floral apron. “Will had to cover for you.”

  Stella ran her fingers through her short dark hair. “I’ll come in early my next shift.”

  “That’d be fine, plus the double tonight.”

  Last month, Stella had promised to cover Will’s night shift. He’d probably rushed off to pack. It afforded the perfect opportunity to straighten up all her affairs. Everything was going according to their plan.

  Mama Gene nodded with such force that her tall red wig almost toppled off her head.

  When the human tornado turned downwind, probably for another cigarette out back, Theresa crept down the old wooden stairs. “She gone?”

  Stella unbuttoned her navy-blue coat and carefully slid it off her shoulders. She walked over to the hall closet and pulled out a hanger. “You’re safe.”

  Theresa scooped up Stella’s hat, gloves, and purse then handed them over with shaky hands and a phony smile. The wedding band was missing from her ring finger.

  Trying to avoid eye contact, Stella put the rest of her things away and flattened the collar of her blue blazer. She couldn’t allow herself to feel guilty or remorseful.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Theresa adjusted her glasses. “Will spent the last hour doing his hair.”

  “It’s tough being the prettiest girl in the show.”

  “Funny.” She giggled nervously. “But seriously, I think they’re going to fire him.”

  Stella crossed her fingers at that. “Doesn’t matter though. He’ll probably always have a job here.”

  Theresa’s long sandy-colored hair covered her face as she shook her head. “He spent half the day crying on the phone. He’s been fooling around backstage.”

  Stella leaned in. For everything she was about to take from the woman, she owed her at least one good piece of advice. “Mind your own business.”

  The back door screeched open. Mama Gene’s heavy footsteps pounded through the kitchen and back into the lobby. Theresa grabbed a rag and began dusting the counters and lamps at once. Stella only pushed her shoulders back. She turned to see Mama Gene tuck a cheetah-print phone into her pocket.

  “Tessie!” their boss bellowed.

  Theresa turned and casually smiled. “Yes, Mama Gene?”

  “I need to go.” Mama Gene walked to the closet and pulled
out her coat. “Stay until Aaron comes in.”

  “I’m sorry.” Theresa tiptoed forward in dark flats. “I can’t wait long. I have a date with my husband.”

  A knot twisted in the pit of Stella’s stomach. Theresa’s husband wouldn’t be able to make it for their date or return home.

  “If you leave, you’re fired.” Mama Gene took off her apron and slipped on her coat.

  “Please,” Theresa said, inching closer, “Rog and I are trying to get the spark back.”

  Stella’s eyes fell to the floor. There would be no spark for either of them. Stella was about to put a hole in Roger Turner’s head.

  “He can wait,” Mama Gene snapped. “Tell the therapist that she can wait too.”

  The twenty-five-year-old mumbled something as she twisted the life out of her rag.

  If they were as far as seeing a therapist, that would explain Theresa’s missing wedding band.

  After firing off more duties for Stella and Theresa like setting up for breakfast, doing the laundry, and filing receipts, Mama Gene glared at the clock above the desk. She grunted, threw her hands in the air, and fumed off.

  As the door banged shut, Theresa plopped down on the lobby’s bench. “She never even says thank you.”

  “She pays in cash.” Stella organized the pens and paper.

  “As soon as I get enough for the divorce, I’m done.” Theresa rested her head on the pastel wallpaper.

  Seems like therapy is a lost cause anyway, Stella thought, soothing her nerves. She didn’t want ruining a marriage on her conscience.

  “How much more do you need?” Stella asked. Not that it really mattered. Theresa could use her savings to buy a black dress, pay for funeral expenses, or get herself a new life somewhere else.

  “Let’s not even go there.” The soon-to-be widow tilted her chin forward. “And what about you? What are you saving up for?”

  “Me?” It wasn’t as though she could tell Theresa about taking what her husband owed her, the hitman she needed to hire, or fleeing to California. Taking Turner out was the easier part of her plans. “Keep feeding my kids. Put a roof over their heads.”

  “You’re lucky to have them and no husband.”

  “I lost my husband years ago when Felipe was just a baby.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been here three years, and I really know nothing about you.” Theresa patted the wood. “Come. Sit. Tell me about yourself.”

  Stella trudged toward the bench then kicked off her well-worn boots as she sat. “What is there to tell?” Stella rubbed her feet and ankles. “I wanted to give my kids a better life, and here I am.”

  “How many kids do you have?”

  “Two. A boy and a girl.”

  “I want to be a mom like you, go into the new millennium with my only little nugget.” Theresa paused. “What was it like for your girl when her daddy passed?”

  “I found out I was pregnant with Lupe after the funeral.”

  “Must have been tough on your own.” Theresa nudged Stella’s shoulder in a rocking motion. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No.” Stella exhaled. “Never again.”

  The front door blew open.

  “Hello!” Aaron sang out from the corridor. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “We’re in here,” Theresa replied, smoothing out the wrinkles on her pants. She hissed into Stella’s ear, “Did you know he was married before? Still has her ring. It’s totally fake—cubic zirconia.”

  Stella, who was already regretting their private conversation, warned Theresa again. “Mind your own business.” Bad things would soon befall that foolish woman if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  Aaron’s lanky form and red hair appeared in the lobby.

  “You’re free.” Stella sighed and patted Theresa’s arm before putting her black boots on.

  “I wish.” Theresa frowned.

  It was only a matter of time.

  As Aaron walked to the front desk, Theresa followed behind him and grabbed his hand. Aaron pulled her close and whispered something in her ear. A moment later, Theresa’s jaw dropped, and she placed a soft hand to his chest.

  Stella pursed her lips. Roger Turner had been willing to pay her a substantial sum for a picture of his wife like that.

  Aaron must’ve noticed Stella’s look because he took an elephant-sized step back from Theresa. “Good night.”

  Theresa tightened the belt of her leather coat then departed.

  Once it was just the two of them, Aaron turned to Stella. “Captain, where do you want me?”

  “I’ll work in the kitchen.” Stella moved past him, ignoring the nickname. Mama Gene had called her that just one time two years ago, but the name had stuck. “You straighten up out here and file the receipts.”

  “Giving me the tough job, I see.” Aaron took off his blue coat with silver buttons. His looks were improving since he stopped dyeing his hair black and trying to straighten it.

  “I can trust you, can’t I?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m going to need your help on a special project.” Stella had to stick to the plan that she and Carmen had come up with. She needed to stay focused on her task.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Okay, Captain,” he said with a salute. The new golden watch that he’d purchased himself just after Christmas was missing.

  “You know what else, Aaron? You should be careful with that girl.”

  “I know.” He frowned. “I’m trying.”

  “Good.” Stella moved to meet his gaze. “We all have our reasons for working here.

  Aaron nodded.

  Stella could tell it was a sign of his surrender. It had taken her about a year to learn to read him pretty well. And tonight, her only friend and the best colleague to ever work night shifts with would have to help her hide the body.

  Before making her way into the kitchen, she warned, “Try harder.”

  Aaron worked the front desk as usual. Stella found reasons to repeatedly pass by the threshold, waiting for her target to arrive.

  After fifteen minutes or so, a pair of heels clattered across the corridor. Stella peered over the door and saw Will sprinting toward the desk in a sequined dress.

  “What are you doing here?” Aaron asked.

  “I forgot my bag.” Will panted as he leaned on the breakfast table. He kicked off his heels. “You look like shit.”

  “You’re a fine walk to talk, going around without a coat.”

  “The concealer around your eye,” Will pointed to his coworker’s left brow. “It doesn’t match your skin tone. Where’d you get that shiner anyway?”

  “Never mind that.” Aaron covered his eye. “Good luck in Chicago.”

  “It’s going to be fantastic.” His blue eyes widened as he tucked his heels under his arm. “We’re leaving tonight.” After wiping sweat from his brow, Will silently loped up the stairs.

  Although she’d been spying on them from the kitchen, Stella called, “Is someone there?”

  “Just Will,” Aaron replied. “He forgot something.”

  “Help me for a while.” Stella wanted another look at Aaron and his black eye. She didn’t know how she’d missed it earlier. Too distracted, she supposed. “The tomatoes need slicing.”

  “Coming.” Aaron closed the notebook and register drawer. He went into the kitchen and helped her prepare breakfast.

  A few minutes later, someone rang the bell at the front desk. Stella intended to go, but Aaron beat her to it.

  A petite woman wearing all black and dark sunglasses stood in the lobby.

  “Good evening.” Aaron’s black sneakers squeaked as he hurried behind the desk. “May I help you?”

  Her fit little waist shifted as her hips moved from one side then the other. She rested an elbow on the desk, revealing an empty blue duffel bag wrapped around her arm. “I need a room, please.”

  “Smoking or nonsmoking?”

&n
bsp; “Smoking.”

  “Queen size or two twins?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be here long.” The woman looked at her cell phone. “I just need the room for about three hours. Can I get half price or something?”

  “Sorry. Our rates are fixed. Sixty-nine dollars per night.”

  “Hey.” She leaned in and pointed directly between Aaron’s eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Stella lingered near the lobby entrance and picked up on Aaron’s slight tremble as he spoke.

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” The stranger snapped her fingers. “You play the violin at the bus station sometimes.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Aaron looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t blink once, which told Stella he was being truthful.

  “Oh, it was terrible when that man slugged you like that.” She ruffled through her pockets and large purse. “Do you need a lawyer?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am.” Aaron rubbed the side of his neck, a tell that he was lying. “I’m fine. But if my boss hears that I’ve been in a fight, then...”

  “Say no more.” She reached into her leather bag and pulled out a bundle of cash. “A room with a sturdy lock. Those folks in the parking lot must be staying here too.”

  After counting the cash, Aaron pushed a shabby guestbook across the desk.

  “What’s this?”

  “Our guestbook.” He slid the money into the cash register. “State law requires that you sign in.”

  The woman carefully thumbed through the pages and laughed. “Oh my. Robin Hood, Dorothy Gale, Sherlock Holmes, and King Kong have all been here.”

  Stella squinted. Who is this woman?

  “So, who will you be tonight?” Aaron offered her a pen.

  The woman paused. “I’m not sure.”

  “Hmm.” Aaron paused. “How about Alice in Wonderland?”

  “No.” The woman grabbed the pen and scribbled on a blank line. “I’ve got a better one.” When she was finished, she slid the book back across the desk and chuckled.

  “All right, Ms. White.” Aaron handed her a key from the cupboard. “Suite number four. It’s just up the stairs and to the left.”