Deep Dish Murder (A Greenville Mystery)

  Deep Dish

  MURDER

  A Greenville Mystery

  Recipes Included

  J R Pearson

  Deep Dish Murder

  Copyright © 2016 by J R Pearson. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1539854739

  ISBN-10: 1539854736

  Cover Design: Estrella Designs

  Interior Book Design: Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Table of Contents

  Story Blurb:

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Recipes

  About The Author

  Story Blurb:

  Jennie Peterson welcomes you to the food-loving town of Greenville! The ideal cozy haven for all foodies to relax and indulge the many delicious creations the locals have to offer.

  Just be sure to avoid finding any dead bodies...

  ___________________________________________________________

  I wish someone would’ve told me that A WHOLE LOT sooner.

  After being blindsided with finding my manager’s body stiffer than frozen microwavable pizza, I had no clue that I would be thrown on the most dangerous ride of my life.

  My ready-to-help best friend, Mandy, on my left and the sexy new detective on my right, I was ready to shake up this little town and solve a murder.

  Did that sound believable?

  Well, I’ll tell you that it’s true when people say ‘expect the unexpected.’

  Soon, I’ll be shown a new twist of the meaning.

  To the entire

  Pearson clan.

  Chapter One

  Nope, no way. It can’t be missing. Wasn’t it sitting next to the jar of pickles?

  “Mandy! Did you eat my pizza?” I asked my best friend and roommate.

  “Uhhh…. Well, I—”

  “You’re officially banned from the kitchen!” I slammed the fridge door, then went into my room. After working a double at Enzo’s last night, a restaurant that catered to those who liked everything drenched in marinara sauce, I brought home an extra-cheesy deep dish pizza. I saved the golden-crusted beauty for breakfast.

  How am I supposed to function today without a nutritious late breakfast?

  My phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call.

  Anthony, my manager.

  “What’s up, Ant?”

  “Jennie! Thank God!” He sounded panicked. “I just got off the phone with Ashley. She’s sick! She’s hacking and vomiting—”

  “I know what sick means. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “You’re an angel.” We disconnected, and I started to get dressed. No biggie. I didn’t mind working the lunch shift alongside Anthony Genova. He was like a fun but firm grandpa to all his employees. He resembled Santa Claus—if Santa were balding and had bushy eyebrows that looked like they’d been through a wind tunnel. Anthony could make anybody forget that they’d been working on their aching feet for hours by acting goofy and cracking jokes.

  I slipped on a pair of tight black dress pants, a white button-down blouse—although the top button was not having it and refused to close over my boobs—and black ballet flats. I left my chin-length curly hair alone. I had no choice; it had a mind of its own. Once I swiped on a quick layer of lip gloss, I shot out the door.

  Mandy threw a crumpled napkin at me from our small dining table.

  “Jennie! Wait! I really don’t remember eating—”

  “It’s okay, I gotta go!” I said over my shoulder. Technically, I was on my way to a birthing place of pizza. I would just get another. And yes, it was a big deal.

  Enzo’s pizzas were to die for.

  I love the drive to work. My apartment building is a block away from The Donut Hut, so the air smelled of brewed coffee and fried dough. Hence why all the windows of my crappy car were down. I passed a couple more shops when I rounded a corner. That was when I inhaled deeply.

  Danny’s Deli. Be still my salami-wrapped heart.

  Oh, how I do love the town of Greenville.

  It’s a small town where I’ve lived my whole life. The name says it all. Greenville is surrounded by luscious green forests and fields, though it is funny to see everything turn orange in the fall.

  The huge and beautifully bricked inn overlooked a football field-size lake. People jog or walk on the path that circles the lake, while others can sit on benches and watch the stone fountain in the middle of the lake, spewing water several feet in the air. At night, the fountain lights up and the lake’s rippling water reflects the fountain’s neon colors. Very dreamlike and romantic.

  Restaurants and cafes get their veggies, dairy, and meats from nearby farms and their seafood from JewelCove, the next town over, which is half an hour away. It’s kind of like our sister town. Most families have relatives living here and in JewelCove. Then there’s West Emily, a city located, strangely, to the east, two hours away. My family and I used to take trips there. We’d spend the day shopping, eat lunch, and then catch a movie. It never occurred to me to move and try living in the city. There was no need. Greenville is just as busy; the only difference is you can escape within a city and be independent.

  You can’t in Greenville.

  Everybody knows everybody. And anybody can find out what anybody is doing, who they’re dating, who’s cheating on their diets or spouses, who’s filed for bankruptcy, and whose daughter is getting married or not.

  Hint hint—this girl.

  Thanks for the reminders, Mom.

  Every other day, she makes it a point to bring up my relationship status. I’m only twenty-three. Let me breathe, woman! I’ve promised countless times that she’ll be the first to know what lucky guy has managed to drag my attention away from a double patty cheeseburger.

  So yes, I’m single at the moment.

  The short drive to Enzo’s ended as I parked in the empty parking lot. Not empty. I could see Anthony’s gas guzzler parked along the side of the building.

  “Good Morning, Anthony!” I shouted, breezing through the entrance. The interior of Enzo’s can be summed to fake vines, fake ivy, and fake grapes hanging from the ceiling and doorways, alongside stick-on window pictures looking out at vineyards.

  As I got closer to the kitchen, I realized I didn’t hear Luca, our head cook, banging pots and pans around, or prepping the grill. Had everyone called in sick?

  “Jennie.” It was barely a whisper, but I heard it. Standing at the kitchen doorway, I glanced left—

  “Anthony!”

  He lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of…
oh shit, please be tomato sauce. In seconds, the pool doubled in size, spreading toward the stove. I crouched down to my boss, a sharp metallic odor assaulting my nostrils.

  Definitely blood. His olive skin was now pale and shiny with sweat.

  Jennie, think! He’s hurt. Call someone! The police! Now!

  “It’s going to be okay, Ant. You’re fine,” I said, fumbling through my purse. Finally, my fingers touched my cell phone. Anthony moaned, pain crippling his face. His hand clutched his chest, more blood seeping between his fingers.

  “Come on, come on.” After what felt like hours, the dispatcher finally picked up.

  “Nine-one-one operator, please state your emergency.”

  “Hello, um, m-my boss, he’s bleeding. He’s… shit, just send help. There’s a lot of blood”.

  “Miss, where are you located?” the dispatch lady asked.

  “Um.” Dammit, why am I suddenly drawing a blank? Speak, Jennie! “I-I-I’m at a restaurant named Enzo’s off Cedar Parkway.”

  “Jen… nie…,” Anthony groaned, then made a gurgling sound. This cannot be happening.

  “Miss, what—”

  “Ugh, just send help already! My name is Jennie Peterson and I’m freaking the hell out here! My goddamn boss could be dying. I think he’s been stabbed.”

  “Ms. Peterson, an ambulance is on the way. Please remain calm—”

  “No, no calm! Not in the least damn bit!” I should be doing something to stop the bleeding. There’s so much….

  “Jen.” Anthony roughly grabbed my arm, jostling the phone in my hand.

  “Watch your… back,” he exhaled.

  Those were his last words.

  I was sitting outside at a table in Enzo’s front patio area when I saw the paramedics wheel out Anthony’s lifeless body in a large black bag.

  Watch your back.

  I wiped a stray tear from my cheek.

  “Excuse me? Officer Robinson?” I said to the uniformed man standing by my table. “Can I go? I don’t want to be here anymore.” When the police showed up, Officer Robinson introduced himself, then guided me out the restaurant and sat me down without another word.

  “Have to wait for the detective,” the officer grunted, then walked away. I hated this. My body was starting to shake all over again. It was too much. Wait for the detective? Screw that. I wasn’t going to sit there another minute, constantly being reminded of watching a person I cared about die at my feet. I scraped the iron chair back to get up when a deep male voice behind me stopped my actions.

  “Please sit.” He came around to stand in front of the table. He had to be over six feet tall. Wavy dark brown hair that needed to be cut. Not in a ratty hobo way, but in a sexy pirate way. He looked very good in a plain gray suit, no doubt all lean muscle underneath.

  “I’m Detective Evans and I promise I’ll keep this short.” Evans smiled and gestured to take a seat.

  Perfection.

  “Sure.” I lowered myself back down and waited.

  “What time did you enter the building?” he asked.

  “Eleven thirtyish.” I shifted, causing our legs to bump into each other. Evans smiled shyly, then went back to asking questions. When he finished, he gave me his card, stating if I remembered anything else to call.

  “I’m sorry about your boss. And if you need to talk, just call, okay?” he said soothingly. I nodded again. I probably looked like a bobblehead by that point.

  “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Thank you,” I managed.

  Evans opened his mouth then shut it. With another heart-stopping smile, he walked away. I looked down at the card.

  Detective Caleb Evans, G.V.P.D.

  On the way back to my apartment, I realized that during the time of acting like a nerdy teenage girl getting asked out by the captain of the football team, I forgot to tell Detective Evans about Anthony’s last words.

  “Your boss was murdered!” Mandy screeched. I winced. After explaining everything to her, I was exhausted, and my body vibrated from reliving it. Sadness began to creep through me when I remembered Anthony left behind a wife.

  “I’m going to need another one, please.” I waved my empty wineglass. It was only noon, but I didn’t care. Neither did Mandy since she had no problem ditching her shift at the dry cleaners to have a glass herself. Of course, her sole purpose was to drop everything and run straight over to support her best friend who’d experienced a very tragic event. She said this with her head tilted and a hand over her heart.

  Don’t worry. I made sure she saw my eyes roll to the back of my head.

  “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for ditching?” I asked.

  “No, not at all. They love me. No worries,” she said from the kitchen.

  “Really?”

  “No, I lied. I lie all the time. I’m so gonna get fired. It’s okay though. I hated it there anyway,” she replied, handing me a full glass before plopping down right beside me on the couch. Mandy is my blonde, blue-eyed best friend since the first grade. Like me, she’s also short, curvy, and has a long-standing relationship with anything called “food.”

  Two dorky meatballs. That’s what she calls us because we’re small, round, and seasoned with enough spunk and charisma that can liven up any plain party. However, we don’t exactly get the kind of attention where we get heads turning toward us, but rather away from us.

  I mean, what’s the point of having just one drunk, short chick dance on top of a bar table when you can have two dancing drunk chicks?

  Then see them both slip and roll off onto the floor.

  Like a meatball.

  Chapter Two

  “Sooooo when do the witness protection people get here?” Mandy asked.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Uh, hello. You. Are. In. Danger,” she said slowly. “You heard what your boss said. Well, former boss.” I watched as she chugged the remaining contents of her glass and then stared sadly at it.

  “I have no clue what he meant by that.” That was the truth. Why would I need to watch my back? Was someone after me? I didn’t have any enemies.

  I live a simple life. During the week, I go to work, and then come Friday night sometimes Mandy and I will stuff our faces at Triple B’s while watching whatever sports game is on. Saturday is adult responsibility day, catching up on bills or cleaning the apartment…

  Who am I kidding?

  Shopping is what I do on Saturdays.

  And Sunday I spend the whole day thinking of excuses to get out of family dinner. But I end up falling asleep or doing something else and don’t realize I’m twenty minutes late for said family dinner.

  Every damn time.

  My point is I don’t make waves in Greenville society.

  Plus, what makes this whole situation even more puzzling is that I never did hang out with Anthony outside of work. Anybody from work, for that matter. I have no clue who Anthony’s friends or enemies are—were. He had to know who his assailant was. Did his warning indicate that I do too?

  What does all of this have to do with me?

  I felt my eyes cross. My mind was going crazy.

  I put my glass on the coffee table; I couldn’t stomach the last of it. I slouched lower in our worn cushions. That and having Mandy beside me was the only comfort I need right now. Even though she was currently eyeing my wineglass like a cat eyeing a three-legged mouse.

  “Just take it,” I sighed. Mandy the Magician made every last drop disappear.

  “You know what, Meatball? You’ve got nothing to worry about, lil buddy. Mandy is here to protect you.” She slapped my thigh, hiccupped, and fell face-first into my lap. A minute later I heard snoring.

  I sighed and patted her head. I thought of Detective Evans. Sorry, Mandy, but I’d rather him watch over me than you. Don’t even go there. Nothing good ever happens when you think too much into something that wasn’t there. Caleb Evans was new in town. Like “three seconds fresh out the oven” new. No way had a guy like him been w
alking around Greenville and no one noticed. Give it time. Every good-hearted mother would be throwing their single, pot-roast-recipe-wielding and perfect-hips-for-child-bearing daughters at him.

  Will he find my two-for-one onion ring appetizer coupon at Triple B’s attractive?

  If only Evans and I met under different circumstances. Like me calling in a pizza and he was the delivery guy, and once I opened the door, he would sweep me off my feet to our mansion outside of town and feed me slices of greasy pepperoni pizza, not giving a damn about leaving orange fingerprints on the all-white love seat I reclined on.

  A loud snore erupted from Mandy, reminding me to come back down to earth.

  Shame. Earth contained murderers.

  11:34 p.m.

  11:35 p.m.

  11:36 p.m.

  No matter how long I stared at the clock, it would never go back and let me start the day over. The day I ended up finding my boss dying in a pool of his own blood. Flipping around in bed for the umpteenth time, I settled on burying my face in a pillow, groaning loudly.

  First thing tomorrow I’m going to call Detective Evans and tell him what Anthony had told me. Whether I should be worried or not, I’ll leave that up to him. Maybe he found out Anthony was murdered by a tax-collecting assassin. That would definitely explain the whole “watch your back.”

  I eventually fell asleep, dreaming of Anthony’s lifeless body. He and I were sitting—well, he was slumped over—at a big round table seated for three.

  Where was Luca?

  After my third cup of coffee, I figured enough time had passed to finally call Detective Evans. Not because I thought he might be still asleep.

  I just needed more time to grow a spine.

  I picked up my phone and dialed his number. Don’t you need a donut? Maybe I should call later after a chocolate filled—

  “Detective Evans,” he answered.