Conspiracies and Stuff: A Dreamland Junction Mystery Read Free

threatening my friend.
    What a douche bag!
    “You haven’t heard the last of me, Moss.”
    “Oh I’m sure of it. Now get on home Kat.”
    He sauntered back to the crime scene while I stood there with my arms folded, glaring.
    “Let’s go,” Spencer urged. “We’re not going to get anything here. You can probably get any information they’re ready to release to the public, from your uncle.”
    Spencer was right. Moss may be uncooperative, but Uncle Sonny was the Chief of Police, and he didn’t mind indulging me every now and again, but only if it was info they were willing to let the newspapers print. That meant that whatever I found out from Uncle Sonny, probably wouldn’t be all that helpful.
    “It’s better than nothing,” Spencer said, as if he’d been reading my mind.
    Turning narrowed eyes on Spencer, I asked, “How did you know what I was thinking?”
    Spencer blinked several times, staring at me, as if he were looking at a crazy woman. “I didn’t. I was just saying,”
    “Never mind,” I sighed. “Let’s get out of here. I need a few more hours sleep before I have to be to work.”
    Even if Uncle Sonny wouldn’t give up info, there was bound to be a ton of gossip at work, and some of it might even be useful.

Chapter Two
     
    “Two 51s,” Rube called from the kitchen.
    Sidestepping around Lavern, the other waitress on duty, I made a beeline for the window that separated the kitchen from the waitress workstations.
    Rube had placed two Area 51 Breakfast Specials beneath the warming lights.
    “Thanks Rube!” I called, grabbing both plates.
    “No problem ma chica ,” he said over his shoulder as he was flipping more pancakes.
    Ruben Torres was the dayshift cook, and probably the best cook in Nevada. Rube could have probably gone to work for one of the big Las Vegas casinos, but for some odd reason, he preferred Dreamland Junction. All the waitresses loved him, including me. No matter how down I was, a little while with Rube and I’d be wondering why the world had seemed like such a messed up place.
    The ET Landing was packed, which wasn’t unusual for a Sunday morning. On Sundays, we got the occasional truck driver stopping in on their way to wherever, plus we got locals who would drop by for breakfast before their weekly trip to their various churches, though there were only two churches in town.
    Averting a collision with a little boy running for the restrooms, I arrived at a table with two truck drivers who had been patiently waiting for their breakfast.
    “Here you go guys,” I said, setting the plates down. “Two Area 51 Specials, with disk cakes.”
    They nodded a thank you before I turned away.
    The ET Landing was like no other truck stop - travel center in the country, which meant that curious tourists tended to stop by every now and again. The café area was shaped like a massive flying saucer, and actually looked like one from the outside. The interior was also alien themed. If it had something to do with extra terrestrials, you’d find it at the ET Landing Travel Center.
    I spent fifteen minutes walking around with a pot in my hand, refilling coffee, before Lavern pulled me aside.
    “Did you hear what happened to Molly Peterson?” she asked, her eyes as wide as silver dollars.
    Lavern Meek was a curvy blond on the wrong side of forty. At one time she’d been an exotic dancer in Las Vegas, but like most from Dreamland, she came home when she hit her late thirties and the money began to dry up.
    “Yeah, I heard about it,” I told her, taking a seat at the little table reserved for our breaks. “Spencer and I actually went out there. Still don’t know what really happened though … only that she was found dead in her car.”
    Lavern slid into the chair across from me. “Molly is my neighbor … or was my neighbor,” she corrected. “I can tell you this … her little boy, Sean is missing. The police were knocking on everyone’s doors at six this morning, asking if