Smothered in Onions

by Tracey Quinn

  I saw Bob come into the Breezy Spoon and I waved to him as he sat down at the counter. “Good news,” he said as I approached. “I talked to the judge and he said it would be okay to have Cooter James replace your damaged mailbox as part of his community service.”

  “Community service? What's Cooter done now?” I asked.

  “Destruction of public property. He and his cousin Jake uprooted a park bench and bent a light post while they were dragging a rotting log out of the lake. Apparently Cooter thought looping the rope which he had tied to the log around the park bench before he fastened it to the back of his car would give him better 'leverage' to pull the log out of the lake. It didn't. And the light post got bent when Cooter's car smashed into it after the rope broke.”

  “Should I ask why Cooter and Jake were so keen to haul a rotting log out of the lake in the first place?”

  “They thought it was a wagon from the Civil War loaded full of gold Kruggerands,” Bob explained.

  “Kruggerands? Aren't those some kind of South African coins?” I asked. “Did they really have wagons full of them in the Civil War?”

  “Nope. They didn't even exist back then. Apparently Cooter met some guy called Baldy, who isn't really bald, about a week ago and they were hanging out by the lake when Baldy 'found' a Kruggerand lying next to the water. He acted very excited and told Cooter that this was proof of a story he'd heard that during the Civil War a wagon load of Kruggerands had got lost in a fog and ended up at the bottom of the lake. He showed him a crude map drawn on a rolled up piece of pleather that showed where it could be found in the lake.”

  “Did you say pleather?”

  “Yeah, it's a kind of imitation leather; they make sofas out of it. I guess it looks pretty close to the real thing; close enough to fool Cooter, at least. Anyway, Baldy told him that since he didn't know how to swim and he was afraid of water, he would sell Cooter the map for $200 if he would promise to give him ten per cent of the gold when he found it. Cooter only had $80 on him, but that was good enough for Baldy and they struck a deal. Cooter and Jake have been diving in the lake with flashlights and searching for it ever since.”

  “Diving in the lake with flashlights; I think we just found Charlene's baby lake monster with the cute little flashing eyes.”

  “Baby what?” Bob asked.

  “The lake monster had a baby,” I said.

  “Well, congratulations to her. As long as I don't get calls to chase it away from people's houses like I do with Bigfoot, I'm all for it.”

  “Poor Cooter! He just can't seem to stay out of trouble for long, and he's out $80, too,” I groaned. “But wait; at least he has that gold Kruggerand. That's got to be worth at least $80, right?”

  “It would be worth a lot more than $80 if it were real.”

  “Counterfeit?”

  “Counterfeit.”

  “Poor Cooter.”

  “As usual.”

  “Did you catch Baldy?” I asked. “He's Suze's brother, you know. He was hanging out at the fair yesterday and he might be there again today.”

  “No, not today,” Bob sighed. “According to Suze he got tired of East Spoon Creek City and he's hitchhiking back to Alaska. Someone we talked to saw a guy matching Baldy's description getting picked up by a big rig on the highway, so I don't think we're going to have much luck catching him now.”

  “Roger Travers wanted Baldy to fly his new airplane for him. I guess that plan is out the window now.”

  “Yeah, bad luck for Roger and bad luck for Cooter, but it's good luck for you, at least,” Bob said as he got up to leave.

  “Me? How?”

  “You're getting a new mailbox!”

  It had just turned two and I was wiping down the counter before I finished my shift when Mark walked in. He sat down on a stool and said, “I'd like a salted caramel milk shake and you owe me $32.”

  “$32? What on earth for?”

  “That's how much it cost to get the information you wanted from Suze,” he replied. “When I got to her booth there were a group of people watching the kids playing the horse race game. At first I thought they were parents, but actually Suze was taking their bets on the race. She even had a chalkboard where she'd put the odds. I had to keep placing bets so she would talk to me.”

  “You can't be serious! Isn't that the game where the kids shoot a water gun at a target to make their horse move forward? Who would bet on that?” I asked.

  “About 15 to 20 people at any given time,” he replied. “Suze made a killing. I would have lost more but I bet on Mutt Jr. at 100 to one and made back $28 out of the $50 I had lost. When the kids won, Suze would give them candy, so after a while I noticed that some of the kids were getting a sugar high and their aim wasn't as good as it had been. By that time Mutt Jr. must have got tired of shooting everyone with his water gun and won a game.”

  “That can't possibly be legal,” I said.

  “Well, Mayor Pumphrey didn't seem to object. Of course, he was winning.”

  “What did she say about Roger?”

  “I'm willing to take an IOU on the $32 but I think I should at least get that milkshake before I give my report.”

  “I'll bet if I added up all the free milkshakes you've gotten from the Breezy Spoon, you'd owe me $32.”

  “Maybe, but who's keeping track?”

  Once I had bribed Mark with a salted caramel milkshake, he continued: “According to Suze, Roger wants to fly to Aruba with Zeke and Kristi Constable. I guess Zeke's getting impatient with how long it's taken Roger to get the airport up and running, so Roger has this trip planned to show Zeke that everything's going well. This must be an important deal for Roger because he agreed to pay Suze's brother Baldy $5000 to fly the plane. He even gave him half up front.”

  “Ouch. Poor Roger,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Baldy just skipped town today. He's headed back to Alaska with $80 from Cooter James and whatever else he made from scamming people. It looks like that includes $2500 of Roger's money.”

  “That's rough even by Roger's standards,” Mark said. “How much did he lose on that “mobile fitness studio” idea he had? It probably cost a lot to have that ancient school bus he bought towed to the scrap yard.”

  “Roger never saw a get-rich-quick scheme he didn't like,” I sighed. “He never has much luck with them and the airport doesn't seem like it's going to be any different.”

  “Just as well. I drove by the place once and it looked like an abandoned set from a Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie. I can't imagine it was up to any kind of safety standards. If he actually tried to fly a plane out of there, it would just make more work for me. And speaking of work,” Mark pushed his empty glass across the counter and stood up, “we'd better get going to McGarity's so I can make it to the fire station in time for my shift. Since you owe me $32 can you ask Brendan to make me a ham and cheese sub to go?”

  “Isn't someone fixing dinner at the firehouse?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but it's Pat Duffy's turn to cook tonight and he's making boiled pig's feet and sauerkraut. He says it's an old family recipe passed down from his grandmother. That's a great recommendation! His grandmother died at 40!”

  “Yes, but she was hit by a bus in a snowstorm. It didn't have anything to do with her cooking.”

  “Sure, but I'm not taking any chances...”

  After Mark dropped me off at McGarity's, I took my old car with it's expensive new tires straight home. There in the mailbox on top of a few letters and ads was a small cardboard box, just the right size to fit a black light. I went inside and tore the box open; sure enough, there was my black light, all ready to prove that Gene McGee was innocent and my onions were safe to eat. The instructions in the package seemed pretty straightforward, and my battery drawer actually had working batteries in the right size for a change, so in a few minutes I was ready to go.

  The clock on the microwave said it was after 4:30; the bank closed at four, so everyone shou
ld have gone home by now. The rec center would be empty too, since Lloyd Duval obviously wasn't giving lectures there anymore, so it seemed like a good time to have a look around. Mark wouldn't be back home until late either, so I could investigate and get back without him being any the wiser.

  I got into the Firebird and drove downtown to the rec center. By the time I had found a place to park it was a little after 5 o'clock. The sun was low and the shadows cast by the building made the street dark. I was glad of this, for even though the area was deserted, what with the crowds still enjoying the fair down at the town square. I didn't want any gossip about my visit to the rec center getting back to the wrong people.

  I found the key under the mat in front of the door to the rec center, just where Joey had said it would be, and unlocked the door and slipped inside. I turned on the lights and saw that I was in the main hall of the rec center, which looked like the dingy warehouse room of a print shop that it used to be. I pulled the black light out of the pocket of my jacket and turned it on.

  “Okay, let's see if you were worth $29.95 plus shipping,” I said.

  Nothing. It didn't show anything at all. I checked it to make sure it was working, then I remembered: it's supposed to work in the dark! I flipped off the lights in the hall and tried again. It worked! I could see stains showing up bright in the darkness!

  Judging from what I could see around me, there had either been a war or an orgy by the door of the rec center, maybe both. When was the last time someone cleaned this place? This wasn't as helpful as I had hoped. Maybe I'd have better luck in the area where Lloyd had broken into the bank vault. The main hall didn't share a wall with the bank, so that meant the spot of the break-in had to be a back room somewhere. Surely there had been less “activity” back there and I'd be able to get a better reading with my black light.

  I stumbled through the dark room in the direction of the bank, mentally kicking myself for not bringing a flashlight with me. I scanned the floor with the black light as I went, but it didn't provide much illumination other than from the multitude of scattered stains all over the room. When I got close to the back wall of the room I spotted a door which looked like it led in the right direction. From what the black light was showing, the doorknob did not look like something I would want to touch without pouring a gallon of bleach on it first, so I tried poking at the door with my foot, and to my relief it swung open.

  The room inside was small and half-filled with a bunch of junk that looked like stuff left over from the old printing business. On the far wall I saw a tarpaulin tacked up to cover the hole that Lloyd Duval had made to get into the bank vault. You'd think they'd have done something more to block the hole so that someone couldn't just walk right into the vault, but I guess that since the money was already stolen they weren't to concerned about it.

  Suddenly my phone rang and I just about jumped out of my skin. I fished it out of my pocket, muttering unkind things about whoever it was who absolutely had to talk to me at this very moment, and saw that it was Charlene's number.

  With a sigh I answered. “What is it, Charlene?”

  “Miss O'Shea, where do we buy the disposable gloves we use for cleaning?”

  “Why? Have we run out?”

  “I don't think so, but I can check if you want me to.”

  “No, I don't want you to check. Aren't you supposed to be waiting on customers right now?”

  “Well, I haven't given them menus yet, so no one has ordered anything,” Charlene explained.

  “If they came into the restaurant and sat down then they probably want something to eat, so if you gave them menus they would order something to eat, don't you think?”

  “I'm sure you're right about that, Miss O'Shea.”

  “Go ahead and give the customers menus,” I said. “Oh, and tell Jimmy to put paper towels in the men's room!”

  “Oh, don't worry about that, Miss O'Shea,” Charlene replied. “Jimmy got a new roll of paper towels first thing when he came in.”

  “Great! So he changed the roll?”

  “No, he wasn't able to.”

  “What? Why not?” It had seemed to me that the process of changing a roll of paper towels was simple enough that even someone like Jimmy could do it, but now it was looking like I had been wildly optimistic in thinking that.

  “He said there was already a full roll of paper towels in there,” Charlene said. “The dispenser is just jammed so they won't come out.”

  “Well, did Jimmy fix the dispenser?”

  “He wasn't sure if you wanted him to do that or not.”

  “I should have bought an air dryer,” I groaned.

  “Oh Miss O'Shea, you mustn't get one of those!” Charlene cautioned. “Those machines are so powerful that they blow the skin loose from the bones in your hands!”

  “Uh, that's not possible, Charlene.”

  “It's true! I read on the internet that the wind coming out of one of those hand dryers is the equivalent of a Force 5 hurricane! They even showed a picture of a man who had been on the beach fishing during a hurricane and there was nothing left of him but a skeleton! He still had the fishing pole in his hands, it happened that fast! It was really creepy.”

  I was about to answer when suddenly I heard a creaking sound and then a thump; someone had opened the door of the rec center and closed it again! I listened and could just make out the sound of footsteps moving around the main hall. I quickly turned off my black light and tiptoed back to the door of the room to see if I could catch a glimpse of who it was.

  “Miss O'Shea, are you still there?”

  Ugh! Charlene! “Charlene, I can't talk right now,” I whispered, cupping my hand over my mouth and the phone. “Just wait on the customers, okay?”

  “Why are you whispering, Miss O'Shea?”

  “I'm uh, at a movie theater. I have to be quiet now, so I'll talk to you later.”

  “Oh, that's great! What movie are you watching?”

  The footsteps were coming closer! It sounded like they were heading right for the door of the room I was in! I looked quickly around the room for another door, but there wasn't one; the only other way out of the room was through the bank vault. I stole quickly but quietly across to the floor to the tarpaulin and slipped through into the dark vault.

  Charlene was still talking. “Is it the one about the girl who moves to a new town and misses all her friends but meets this boy who's nice but mysterious and she falls in love with him? I saw it with Jimmy last week; he didn't want to see it but I told him there was a lot of shooting and fist fights in it so he went with me after all....”

  I flattened myself against the side of the vault and listened as the footsteps came closer. It occurred to me that I might be overreacting; it was probably just Joey checking up on the place or someone who had come in to see about renting the rec center. I had no reason to hide; if someone found me, I had a legitimate reason to be here so I wouldn't get in any trouble or arouse suspicion.

  On the other hand, it could be the murderer returning to the scene of the crime for some reason, and if he found me I could end up in the bottom of an onion crate. I decided to stay hidden. I peeked out through the narrow gap between the tarpaulin and the wall, trying to get a look at the door; if I could see who it was, I'd know what I was up against.

  “It was so romantic and sad. I just cried and cried when the girl finds out the reason the boy wouldn't date her isn't because he was too shy, but because he was dying of a rare disease the whole time-”

  “Charlene, I have to go!” I hissed.

  The door creaked open and I saw the beam of a flashlight play across the wall. This wasn't a good sign; if it were Joey or someone with good reason to be here they would have turned the lights on. Was this really the murderer? Why were they here? The beam of light moved downward and then stopped moving at all; the person must have set their flashlight down on the floor. A moment later I heard the sound of liquid sloshing in a can and I saw water being splashed onto the wall
s and door frame. What was going on? Were they trying to clean the place?

  I had been right! There must be some evidence that had been left, and my black light could pick it up! I thought about sneaking out of the vault and getting a quick look with my black light, but then I smelled something strange.... Gasoline! They weren't washing the walls, they were dousing them with gas so they could burn the place down!

  Chapter 11

  As I looked I saw the light coming through the doorway grow suddenly very bright and orange. I heard the echoes of running footsteps as they hurried away from the door, and then a loud whoosh! as the fire spread around the hall.

  I also heard Charlene's voice: “Sorry I gave away the ending, but still you'll cry-”

  “The building's on fire! I gotta go!” I cried and hung up.

  I ran for the door, hoping to get out of the room before the fire reached it, but I had barely left the vault when flames came rushing through the doorway and started climbing up the gasoline-soaked walls. I was trapped!

  Wait, maybe not! I pushed the tarp aside and ran back into the vault. I grabbed the handle of the heavy steel door and pushed with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. Throwing my shoulder against it didn't do anything other than hurt my shoulder. The door was locked! I know, it's a bank vault; they usually do lock the doors, but considering that a piece of canvas was all that was keeping anyone from walking in from the back, it seemed kinda pointless to bar the door on this side.

  Already a few wisps of smoke were wafting around the edges of the tarpaulin and into the vault. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911. I didn't want Mark and Bob to find out that I was still investigating Lloyd Duval's murder, but I also didn't want to get burned alive in the rec center, so I'd just have to deal with Mark and Bob. Nothing happened. I looked at the screen on my phone and it said I was still on a call. I had hit the wrong button and had never ended my call with Charlene!

  Angrily I jabbed the “end” button and then dialed 911 again. Plumes of smoke were billowing into the vault now and it was getting hard to see the screen and even harder to breathe. The phone began to ring.... and ring....