Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  He flipped open the lid of the dumpster, and after fighting off another platoon of flies, we had a look inside. There was no body, just more boxes smudged with blue paint.

  “I don't know about you, but I've had enough corpse hunting for one day,” Mark sighed. “Let's go back to The Breezy Spoon and I'll give you a free milkshake.”

  “You'll give me a free milkshake? They're my milkshakes!”

  “And it would be kind of silly to charge yourself for one, now wouldn't it? Let's go; I'll have one too, since you asked so nicely.”

  “What do you make of these boxes with the paint all over them? I saw them in the dumpster behind the Emporium, too.”

  Mark took another look in the dumpster. “The printing on the boxes said they contained aspirin bottles. The boxes look pretty old, though; look, the date stamp on this one is from over three years ago.”

  “The paint is new, though; some of it still looks a little wet.”

  “Maybe Sammy and Al are working on some artsy craft project together?”

  “There may be two people on earth less artsy than Sammy and Al, but I couldn't find them if you asked me. Come to think of it, I saw Sammy and Al at The Breezy Spoon this morning after Rafe Duval made his scene. They were talking in hushed tones, and they sounded really worried that Rafe might know about something they were doing.”

  “I thought Sammy and Al hated each other.”

  “They do, but they love money even more. They must have put aside their differences to cook up some scheme; whatever it is, it looks like it involves old boxes and blue paint, but I can't work out any more than that.”

  “I don't see any connection to that and our disappearing dead guy,” Mark said. “Come on, we can figure it all out some place with breathable air.”

  “Good idea,” I agreed.

  We were about half way back to the Breezy Spoon when my phone rang. If it was Charlene calling to explain why she was late for her shift again, there was going to be some shouting. I looked and saw that it wasn't Charlene, but Tammy, and when I answered, she was the one doing the shouting.

  “Oh, Dani! It's out there!” she cried. “I just saw it! What do I do?”

  “You saw what? Calm down, Tammy! What are you talking about?”

  “The dead person and the pie and the bubble wrap and--”

  “What?! Where?!”

  “In my dumpster behind the bakery! Charlene said she would run to the diner to get you, but then you weren't there and she was going to call you but I thought I had better do it...”

  “We're on our way, Tammy,” I said. “Don't do anything until we get there!”

  “Until we get where?” Mark asked.

  “Why, the latest port of call for the dumpster dead man, of course! He's just popped up behind Tammy's bakery!”

  When we arrived at the bakery Tammy was standing out in front on the corner with Charlene beside her. Mark pulled into a parking spot at the curb and we hopped out.

  “Don't worry, Miss O'Shea! I've called Jimmy and he's on his way over!” Charlene assured me.

  I wasn't sure what possible need we would have for Jimmy in this situation, but I didn't want to ask Charlene questions right now. Tammy started around the building toward the back alley.

  “It's back here,” she said. “Oh, what are we going to do, Dani? Should we call the sheriff? I don't want to look at it again.”

  “Let me have a look first,” Mark said. “I'm on dumpster duty today.”

  He led the way down the alley while I put an arm around Tammy's shoulders and waited with her by the corner. Charlene was ready to follow Mark but I held her back, too. Mark flipped open the lid of the dumpster and looked in, then stood back and crossed his arms.

  “Are you all playing some big practical joke on me?” he demanded. “Is it 'Punk the Fireman Day' or something?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Have a look for yourself! Come on, look!”

  We advanced down the alley until we could see what Mark was seeing; an empty dumpster!

  “But-- I don't understand,” Tammy sputtered.

  “The next time someone sees this guy, duct tape him in place before you call me!” Mark grumbled.

  I turned to Charlene. “What do you know about this, Charlene? Did you do something you didn't tell us about?!”

  “Me? Why would you think I did anything?” Charlene asked, dumbfounded.

  “What did you call Jimmy to do?”

  “It can't be Jimmy,” Tammy cut in. “He hasn't been here.”

  “It's true!” Charlene agreed. “But I'm sure he'll be here soon if you need him.”

  “Why would we need Jimmy?” Mark inquired.

  Just then I spotted a smudge of brown behind Charlene near the corner of the alley. I walked over and saw that it was what I suspected it was: chocolate cream. I saw another smudge at the edge of the pavement where Tammy's little parking lot ended. Someone had dragged the body out of the dumpster, and from the direction the chocolate stains were leading, they were heading straight for The Breezy Spoon.

  “Charlene!” I growled, stalking toward the rear of the diner.

  “I didn't do anything!” she cried. “I was only looking for you! I didn't even go in the diner; Brendan was in the parking lot and he told me you had gone!”

  When we reached The Breezy Spoon, Brendan was just coming out of the alley behind the building. He wore his kitchen apron over his clothes, and there were smudges of chocolate on it. He waved to us as we walked up.

  “Brendan, I have a question for you,” I said.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Is there a body wrapped in bubble wrap with a chocolate pie smashed in his face lying in our dumpster right now?”

  “Yes, there is,” Brendan replied. He seemed proud to say so.

  “How did it get there?”

  “I put it there just now. It wasn't easy by myself, but I managed it.”

  “Why did you do that?!”

  Brendan folded his arms across his chest. “I'm not going to let Tammy get dragged into this situation! She has nothing to do with it and I don't want to see her blamed for anything. It's our body, and we'll deal with it ourselves.”

  “Oh, Brendan!” Tammy sighed.

  “It's not our body!” I shouted.

  “Well, it was in our dumpster first,” Brendan insisted. “It'll be just as easy for the sheriff to pick up the body from here as it would be from the bakery.”

  “You could get in trouble for moving the body,” Mark said. “Although if they start arresting people for that, they'll have to bring in half the town.”

  “I know that,” Brendan replied. “I'm willing to accept the consequences.”

  “Well, I'm not!” Tammy snapped. She went to Brendan and put her arm around his waist. “Brendan's not going to get in any trouble because no one's going to tell anyone what he did! We'll call the sheriff and tell him we found the body right where it is now, and that's it!”

  “Aw, that's so sweet,” Charlene cooed.

  I had to admit, it was kind of sweet, if anything involving a dead body in a dumpster could be called that. Brendan had his arm around Tammy's shoulders and was holding her close to him, and it was good to see the two of them together again in spite of everything. Besides, Tammy was right; the body had been moved so many times, it hardly mattered now where it was.

  “I'll call Bob,” I said.

  An hour later I was sitting in a booth in The Breezy Spoon watching Mark polish off a milkshake while we waited for the sheriff's team to finish their work outside. Brendan had insisted that Tammy shouldn't be on the scene when the deputies arrived, so he had taken her back to the bakery where they had both been ever since. I hoped that they were making some progress with their relationship, although I knew it would be hard for Tammy to deal with Shannon's feelings.

  Linda and Don were managing a busy shift, for once Charlene knows something, half the town knows it too, including Jolene
at the beauty salon, and once Jolene knows it, the other half of the town hears about it. News of the body returning to the our dumpster had spread around town like wildfire and The Breezy Spoon was filling up fast.

  I saw Bob come in through the side door and work his way through the crowd toward us.

  “Well, it's a real body this time,” he said. “I suppose you've got no idea how it got there?”

  “No idea,” I replied. “At least you got to it before it disappeared again. Do you have any idea who it is?”

  “A very good idea,” Bob said. “It's Rafe Duval.”

  Chapter 9

  I caught myself just before I shouted a very bad word in front of the whole crowd in the diner. Instead I said, “Rafe Duval? But that's impossible!”

  “As someone who was just cleaning pie off of his face, I can tell you that it's very possible,” Bob countered. “From his injuries it looks like he was hit by a car and then shot in the head for good measure.”

  “But Rafe was still alive and making trouble for everyone when Jimmy first found the body in the dumpster!” I said.

  “You mean the body that got up and ran away before I got there?”

  “But there still had to be a body!”

  “Really? Did anybody but Jimmy see it?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact-” Mark started. I kicked him in the shin. This was not the time to tell Bob that Dora had seen the body and we had been investigating it ourselves. Mark took my meaning. “Um, I mean.... Charlene saw it too, right?” he said.

  Bob's eyes narrowed. “Do you know something you're not telling me? Dani?”

  “Me? How would I know anything?”

  Bob wasn't buying it. “Because I know how you hear things in your diner and then start playing detective. I'll bet you know more about the dead body in the dumpster than we do!”

  “That's ridiculous!” I said, trying to sound as indignant as I could. “I always call you as soon as I hear anything!”

  “Make sure that you do!” Bob cautioned. “We don't have any suspects yet, but this was a pretty brutal crime and whoever did it is very dangerous. If you go nosing around looking for clues to help your big brother, you could end up in big trouble!”

  “Don't worry, I'll watch her like a hawk,” Mark said. “Twenty-four hours a day if necessary.”

  “That's very comforting,” Bob replied sarcastically. “Now don't let anybody know what I've told you about Rafe; we're not going to release the fact that Rafe was shot after he'd been run over. Only the killer knows Rafe was shot, and it'll help our investigation if it stays that way.”

  He had just said it in Charlene's earshot, which didn't help its chances of staying a secret, but I decided not to tell him that. He had enough on his plate. Instead I said, “Thanks for letting me know, Bob. Stay safe.”

  “Will do. Well, I gotta go, Sis. Lots of stuff to do.”

  “Oh, Bob! What was Rafe wearing?”

  “Wearing? Just regular clothes, I guess. Why?”

  “Oh... I was just curious if it was the same outfit he was wearing this morning when he came to the diner.”

  “I don't know; I wasn't here this morning. I suppose the sheriff will know. What are you getting at?”

  “Nothing! I noticed that he had nice shoes this morning,” I said. “I was just curious.”

  “His shoes didn't seem too special to me,” Bob replied. “What do you know that you're not telling me? Come on, out with it!”

  “I told you, I was just curious! If I knew anything else about Rafe Duval, I'd tell you!”

  “Watch her, Mark. For real,” Bob said as he turned to go.

  “You got it,” Mark answered. Once Bob was gone, he turned to me. “Well, what was that about?”

  “Bob said there was nothing special about Rafe's shoes; in other words, they weren't gator-skin boots.”

  “So the body Dora saw behind Sammy's Lounge wasn't Rafe Duval!”

  “That's right,” I sighed. Only in East Spoon Creek City would there be two bodies covered in chocolate cake and bubble wrap!

  By the time The Breezy Spoon opened the next morning, there was no sign that the body of Rafe Duval or the sheriff's team had ever been there. I hadn't heard any news from Bob, either, and I was pretty sure that I wouldn't. I was turning everything I knew over in my mind, but not coming up with a lot. Rafe Duval made enemies like most people make coffee, and from what I had seen yesterday, there were plenty of people that would be happier if Rafe was dead and not talking. I was just glad that Kitty had been on shift at the diner with plenty of witnesses to vouch for her all day. She didn't need Rafe making trouble for her even after he was dead.

  Kitty and I were just serving the early bird specials to the morning customers when Cooter James came in with a newspaper in his hand.

  “Hey, Cooter,” called Brendan through the kitchen window. “I saw your hearse on the lift at Mike McGarity's Garage. Did your old motor finally give out?”

  “No, she's good to go,” Cooter said. “I got to make me a delivery of some stuff I sold online to a guy in Pumpkin City. Mike got a couple of pretty good used tires in and he's gonna put them on the hearse for me before I go.”

  A couple of years ago Cooter was looking for a car to replace his broken down jalopy, and he saw an ad for an old hearse for sale. There weren't a lot of people interested in buying a 45 year old hearse, particularly one with almost 300,000 miles on it, so Cooter managed to get it for $300. The hearse ran pretty well and quite a few of my customers had bets going on how many miles it could go before the motor gave out. It was up over 350,000 now and Brendan had taken charge of organizing the betting and holding the wagers. I think it must show how little there is to do in East Spoon Creek City that we're betting on how soon a hearse will die, pun intended.

  “Say, Miss O'Shea, what is it that I get with the Buy One Get One Free thing that I saw in the paper?” asked Cooter. “I mean if it's gonna be two whole meals, I can't eat that much so could I get the free one to go? What's the deal?”

  “We don't have any Buy One Get One Free offer going on, Cooter,” I replied. “Where did you see that in the paper?”

  “Why, it's right here,” he said, handing me a copy of the East Spoon Creek City Gazette . It was folded over and he pointed to the Town Notes by Amelia. The top note read: “One Danielle Gwendolyn O'Shea, who goes under the alias of Dani O'Shea, has been stalking noted firefighter Mark 'the Dick' Adams,” I burst out laughing so hard that I couldn't read the rest.

  “Mark 'the Dick' Adams! Where did she ever come up with that?

  “Oh, gosh,” said Jimmy under his breath. He had been sweeping the floor between the booths, and he nearly dropped his broom.

  I turned and looked at him. “Did you have something to do with this, Jimmy?” I demanded.

  “It wasn't me, it was Toby Jenkins!” he protested. “I was hanging out with him in the newsroom at the Gazette after work, and that Miss Farnsworth came in and asked if anyone in the newsroom knew what Mark's middle initial 'D' stood for. We didn't know, but Toby likes to goof on Miss Farnsworth 'cause she always falls for it, so he said, 'Dick' and she said 'What?' And Jeff the news reporter spoke up and said, 'Dick. You know, like Dick Tracy, the Dick in the comics.' Toby and me were all laughing but she just said 'Excellent' and went back to her desk. I'm sorry, Miss O'Shea, Toby was just joking around.”

  I wiped my eyes and said, “Don't worry about it, Jimmy. Mark will have to get used to Millie the way all the rest of us do.”

  “I still need to know about my free meal,” said Cooter.

  “Okay, let me see here,” I said, picking up the paper again. “'One Danielle Gwendolyn O'Shea, who goes under the alias of Dani O'Shea, has been stalking one Mark 'the Dick' Adams,' a prestigious firefighter who recently moved to East Spoon Creek City after a notable career as a military General. Miss (not Mrs. since, although she is soon to be 35 yeas of age, she is not married and never has been) O'Shea, a local dishwasher, is currently illegally
squatting in General Adams' home. A confidential source has indicated that the unfashionably large-chested O'Shea is a person of interest in the investigation of the dead body in her dumpster, which possibly is that of an innocent man who had scorned her blatant advances. Anyone with any information concerning this crime should contact Amelia Farnsworth at this newspaper. She will guarantee your confidentiality and will see that justice is done in this shocking case. BOLO!'”

  I laughed. “Oh, I see what you mean. BOLO doesn't mean Buy One Get One Free, Cooter, it's just a police term for Be On The Lookout; you know, it's when the police are looking for a someone and they want the public to help them find the person.”

  “But you're right here,” said Cooter, “I mean, I found you so does that mean I get the free dinner?”

  “Nope,” I said, “it just means Millie is nuts.”

  “Well, dang,” he grumbled, “everybody already knows that. I thought it was like at Al Sholes' Emporium. They had a Buy One Get One Free sale on pillows and I paid $9.99 for the one and got me a second one free.”

  “Oh, Cooter, you should go right down there and get your money back,” I said. “Don't you know those are used pillows? Letty at the dry goods store sells new ones for five dollars.”

  “Why, Miss O'Shea,” he said, “I guess you're math ain't that good or you'd know that it's cheaper at the Emporium. Besides I used my Emporium Charge Card and I don't have to pay nothin' for 90 days.”

  “I know,” I explained, “but Cooter, the interest rate on the Emporium card is 84%. The Emporium charges 42% and the Farnsworth Bank that finances the card charges 42%. They'll be adding a huge amount of interest on for three months.”

  “Well, I don't know how much that adds up to but I reckon they's owed somethin' for floating me the loan of the money for them three months,” he replied.

  I sighed. “How about dessert on the house today since you did me a favor showing me that article,” I offered.

  “Does that include a couple of scoops of ice cream on the pie?” he asked.

  “Sure, why not,” I said.

  “Well, thanks, Miss O'Shea,” he answered, grinning. “You may not be good at math, but you got a big heart!”