Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  Sammy and Al began to bluster but Penny Bowman cut in. “Don't say anything! There's no proof of any wrongdoing! This is inadmissible evidence! I object!”

  “We're not in court, Penny,” the sheriff snapped. “Now simmer down and let her talk.”

  “Now we all know that the reason Rafe came here in the first place was to harass Kitty,” I continued.

  “Come on now, you can't suspect Kitty,” Jack cut in. “I know she's been taking shooting lessons from your brother, but she wouldn't hurt a fly!”

  “No, regardless of her motive, there's no way that someone as small as Kitty could have lifted Rafe's body and thrown it into a dumpster. That would take someone stronger, someone like you, Jack.”

  “What do you mean, Dani? That's crazy!”

  “Why did you bring up Kitty's shooting lessons?” I asked. “The sheriff never said Rafe was shot. The official statement only said that he had been hit by a car.”

  “It wasn't that big of a secret,” Jack countered. “This town runs on gossip, and I heard about it somewhere. It might even have been here at The Breezy Spoon!”

  “There, what do you say to that?!” Millie crowed. “You're trying to pin this crime on Jack to break us up! I should have known! Well, it won't work! I can prove that Jack was in Pumpkin City that day!”

  “Please, Millie, you've got the wrong day,” Jack interrupted. “We weren't in Pumpkin City that day. It was last week when we were there; it was that fashion show you invited me to, remember?”

  “No, that's not what I meant, sweetie,” said Millie impatiently. “I didn't say you were with me. I was with Mother. I just mean that we saw you there.”

  “I wasn't there that day. It must have been someone who looked like me. I didn't see you at all.”

  “I know you didn't see me, darling, but I'm sure it was you. I was sitting in my car in front of the mall waiting to pick up Mother, and I saw you at the auto body shop across the street. I honked and waved, but you didn't notice. You were too busy trying to fit that big roll of bubble wrap into your trunk, I guess.”

  “Millie, I don't think-”

  “Wait, I think I took some pictures,” Millie said, pulling out her phone. “Jack and I just love to take pictures of each other, but don't worry, these are decent!”

  “You weren't getting your front bumper repaired, were you, Jack?” I asked. “Did you hit something that you were planning to dispose of in all that bubble wrap? Perhaps when you stopped to buy a chocolate pie?”

  Penny Bowman fished a business card from her handbag and held it out to Jack. “I'm known for my very reasonable rates and excellent service,” she said. “I'm prepared to-”

  “Everybody settle down for a minute,” Jack snapped. He glared at me. “I don't appreciate wild accusations being thrown around. Okay, so I forgot that I had gone to Pumpkin City that day to get a tune up and run some errands. Now, let's just make one thing clear; you don't have one bit of tangible evidence that connects me to Rafe Duval's death, do you? You can't even prove that I've ever even met him, because I never have! Isn't that so?”

  “That's true,” I said. “I can't prove that you ever met Rafe Duval.”

  “Then I think we're done here.” Jack stood up to leave.

  Sheriff Wilkerson stood up too. “Not quite,” he said. “Sit down.”

  “Come on out, Bob!” I called.

  The door to the kitchen opened and Bob emerged, holding a plastic bag which contained an empty coffee cup. He held it up and said, “I got it off the tray that you had Jimmy bring me; one coffee cup bearing the fingerprints of Mr. Jack Hartley.”

  “That's great,” I said. I turned to Jack. “You see, I didn't call you here to prove a connection to Rafe Duval; I called you here to prove that you're Kirk Bronson, who stole almost a million dollars and killed a police detective in Illinois ten years ago, then murdered Justin McElroy, Sheila Hamsky and Rafe Duval to cover it up. The police in Rockford, Illinois will have no trouble confirming it with these prints.”

  Jack's eyes bulged wide and his face went as white as a sheet. I continued, “When you fled from Illinois you picked the quietest little backwater town in the middle of nowhere that you could find to hide out and start over. You figured no one in East Spoon Creek City would know anything about your old life and you'd be safe, and for almost ten years you were right.

  “Justin McElroy, the detective whose partner you killed, was trying to put it all behind him and make a fresh start, too. He moved out to Kettletown and started a business for himself. Neither of you had any idea that the other was living less than 70 miles from each other. It probably would have stayed that way, except McElroy's business kept growing and he kept opening new offices around the region. Then came the day just six months ago when he came to East Spoon Creek City to open a new branch. He saw you at the Chamber of Commerce Christmas Gala and even after ten years, he recognized you as Kirk Bronson. He even went to the newspaper to try to get photos of you, probably planning to send them back to the police in Illinois.

  “Unfortunately for Justin McElroy, you had recognized him too, and you knew that you had to stop him from giving away your secret. The next night you ambushed him in his car with his assistant Sheila Hamsky, and pushed the car down into the lake where you thought it wouldn't be found. Everyone in town assumed McElroy and Sheila had run off together, and once again your secret was safe.

  “Then old Rafe Duval caused his little commotion outside The Breezy Spoon, and he threatened to expose all the dirty secrets that he knew. When you found out that Rafe lived by the lake, you were afraid that his threats were meant for you. If he had seen you roll the car into the lake, he had to be silenced before he could tell anyone.

  “You couldn't make Rafe disappear like you did with Sheila and McElroy, because no one would believe that he just left town, too. But something had happened just before that which you could use to your advantage; The Desert Corpse came to town. Seizing the opportunity to dispose of Rafe's body without throwing any suspicion on yourself, you bought a chocolate pie and bubble wrap and made up his body to look like the one everyone in town was talking about.

  “It might have worked if Cooter James hadn't been arrested with the first body in the back of his hearse. There was no way you could have foreseen that something like that would lead to the bodies in the lake being discovered, but it spelled the end for your new life. The bullets that killed McElroy and Sheila matched the one that killed Rafe, and the Rockford police confirmed that they also matched the one that killed McElroy's partner. There were all shot by the same man: Kirk Bronson. And the ironic thing is, Rafe Duval probably didn't know anything about your secret, or anything about anybody else's secrets either. It was just another idle threat from a man who had done nothing but make trouble all of his life. If you had left him alone, no one could have connected you to Bronson.”

  Jack Hartley, AKA Kirk Bronson had nothing to say. He only glared at me as Bob slapped the handcuffs on him. As the sheriff finished reading him his Miranda rights and was leading him away, Millie shouted, “Don't worry, darling, I'll get you a lawyer! I'll pay the bail! You'll be home in a couple of hours! Someone framed you --”

  “Oh, shut up, Millie! I think you've done enough,” Bronson muttered.

  Chapter 15

  After everyone had left, I sat in my office alone and took a breath, letting it out slowly. My mind felt muddled by the whirlwind of emotions that had swept through me today, and I felt tired now and just wanted to relax and forget about it all. I had no chance for that though, for I had been sitting for only a few minutes when Charlene burst into the room.

  “Miss O'Shea, it's terrible!” she cried, gasping for breath. “Jolene just told me the news! Mark Adams was putting out a fire and the building collapsed and he's in a coma in intensive care and they aren't sure he's going to make it! Oh, Miss O'Shea ---”

  I didn't hear the rest. I grabbed my keys and jumped in the car. I was crying so much I could hardly see the
road and I wasn't bothering with speed limits, but I made it to the hospital. I rushed up to the intensive care unit and it was empty! I was too late! Wiping my face with the back of my hand I went to the nurse's desk and asked if they had taken Mark away.

  “No, he was never up here,” she said. “He's still in the Emergency Room because they're waiting for---”

  I knew what she was going to say. They were waiting for the undertaker. I felt like I was going to pass out. My military training kicked in. We were trained not to panic and to keep control of our emotions as much as possible even in disastrous situations. But this wasn't just anyone, this was Mark. I hurried down to the ER. I wanted to tell him how much I cared for him even if it was too late. It was after I looked into the first three cubicles that I found him in the fourth. And, it was a miracle --- he was lying there with his eyes closed but I saw his chest rise and fall; he was still breathing!

  I knelt by the side of the bed and took his hand and held it by my cheek. “Oh, Mark, hang in there. Stay with me, stay with me, you've got to stay alive!”

  He opened his eyes and said, “Okay, if you insist.”

  “You... you're not in a coma?”

  “A sprained ankle doesn't usually put someone in a coma.”

  “A sprained ankle? That's all? You're not dying?”

  “Well, there were some splinters, but that's it. Sorry to disappoint. The coma thing would have been more dramatic. Are you okay?”

  “No, I'm not okay! You scared the crap out of me! Why are you just lying there like you're dead?!”

  “I had my eyes closed because I'm tired. And since you asked, I'll be happy to stay with you. I wasn't looking forward to climbing the stairs to my apartment with a sprained ankle anyhow. Do you have any of that sweet potato pie left?”

  I sat back in the chair and gave a sigh. “You'd better hope I don't or I might smash it in your face for scaring me like this.”

  He sat up in the bed and I noticed that his left ankle was in a soft cast. “How did I scare you? It was no big deal so I didn't call you. I've had sprained ankles before. Who told you that I --- oh, no, let me guess, Charlene wasn't it?”

  “Well, Jolene called Charlene and they thought you were intensive care because ---”

  He shook his head. “Charlene and Jolene. All we need is Cooter and we'd have the Three Stooges, speaking of throwing a pie in someone's face. Why would you ever believe them? Hey, you're shaking. Come and sit next to me. I'm just waiting for them to bring me some crutches and I can go. Tim Carmichael's wife had an eight pound little boy last night and he was planning on giving me a ride home, but I can go with you.”

  “How did you sprain your ankle? Charlene said a building collapsed on you.”

  “Ah, yes, Charlene, that font of all wisdom and truth, was, of course, mistaken. Actually I collapsed on the house, or on the front porch to be precise. I was carrying the insufferable Edna Carswell out the front door of her crappy house when her rotten front porch floor gave out under us. She naturally wasn't injured at all, but I ended up with a sprained ankle and a ton of splinters in both legs and a few in my rear end. It took the nurses almost an hour to get them all out. Not too embarrassing.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  'Old Edna must have put on an extra 30 pounds since I lugged her out the last time. I forbid you to give her any more food. Cut her off before she explodes. Not only that, but she wants to sue me for $25,000 for damage to her porch! Some lawyer named Penny Bowman called me while they were still wrapping up my foot.”

  “Well of all the nerve! She can't be serious!”

  “Yep. Chief Baxter was still here when she called and he told me to give him the phone. After he used every curse word I've ever heard and quite a few that I hadn't, he said a lot of stuff about charging Edna Carswell a fine of $5,000 for every time we rescue her. He said something about 'Repeated negligence, endangerment of a public servant in the operation of his duties' and a whole lot of other stuff. She decided to drop the case.”

  “That's Penny Bowman for you; you know, she worked for the city over in Pumpkin City for a while but she was fired for taking a bribe. She used the 'But he's rich and I had to make a car payment' defense and it didn't work.”

  “Are you okay now?” he asked. “You were pale as a ghost and shaking like anything when I first saw you. I'm sorry that Charlene scared you like that. You know that Bob would have called you if it was anything serious.”

  “I know. I shouldn't have panicked like that. I guess I did it because you---”

  The orderly walked in the door with the crutches. “Here you go, man. Need some help in getting used to them?”

  “Nope, I've used them before, but thanks.”

  “Hey, aren't you Dani O'Shea from The Breezy Spoon?” the orderly asked.

  “That's me,” I said.

  “I thought I recognized you. A special edition of the Gazette with news about a murder case just got delivered, and there's an article about you in there.”

  “Hey, you're a celebrity now!” Mark laughed. “I need to get a copy of that paper!”

  The orderly stepped into the hall and returned with a copy of the paper. “Here, take mine. I'm done with it.”

  As he left I picked up the paper and turned to Town Notes by Amelia. “Regretfully I must report to all my fellow citizens that another display of utter disregard for the welfare of the community has been perpetrated by the infamous Dani O'Shea. Last night the aforementioned miscreant accosted an eminent fireman at the local high school in plain view of dozens of frightened, minor children. With complete disregard of the effect that such a shocking display of gross immorality would have on the youngsters, the scantily-clad O'Shea grabbed the poor man obviously against his will in pursuit of a romantic liaison. While it is understandable that at the age of almost 35 years old the desperate woman became manic at the sight of an unattached male, what she did next was totally reprehensible. In a futile attempt to disrupt the upcoming nuptials of this reporter she accused a completely innocent man of a minor unsubstantiated misdemeanor. Charges are expected to be dropped within the hour. O'Shea is frequently seen near a local diner where my confidential sources tell me that the owner says she and her kind are not welcome. Caution is advised.”

  After we quit laughing, I said, “In case you haven't figured it out, the sheriff arrested Jack Hartley for the murder of Rafe Duval and a few others. I'll fill you in later.”

  Mark shook his head. “This isn't good, Dani,” he said. “Here we are alone together and you're desperate for romance. I don't know what you might do. I'm too tired to scream for help, and I have to use crutches, so I couldn't escape on foot. You have me at your mercy.”

  I hit him with the pillow. “Quit clutching your pearls and let's go home.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “More privacy.”

  “More things to hit you with.”

  As I was unlocking the door of my apartment, I said, “You can stay here tonight so you don't have to use the stairs. You can have the bed and I'll take the sofa.”

  “I wouldn't dream of making you sleep on the sofa. It's a queen-sized bed, room enough for both us of.”

  “Or you can take the sofa and I'll take the bed.”

  “You're a heartless woman. Of course, I'm so faint with hunger that I may not make it to the bed or the sofa.”

  “I was about to offer you something to eat. I could make you a steak if you'd like.”

  “Lord, no, too heavy. How about a bologna sandwich and some pie?”

  “Sure. Potato chips and a glass of milk?”

  “That would be great. But make it regular potato chips, not kettle chips. I'm too tired to crunch.”

  After he finished eating and I finished a glass of iced tea I offered to go upstairs and get his pajamas and tooth brush.

  “Just a t-shirt and shorts,” he said, “I'm not a pajama kind of guy. Oh, and there's a package on my desk that has a DVD in it. Could you bring t
hat, too?”

  “You're half asleep right now and you want to watch a DVD?”

  “Not all of it,” he said. “Just one part. Something I thought you'd be interested in.”

  “Couldn't it wait till tomorrow? I'm tired too.”

  “Nope. Humor me. After all, an hour ago you thought I was dying.”

  “But obviously you weren't.”

  “Well, so sorry to disappoint you.”

  I sighed. “I'll get the DVD.”

  As I got Mark settled on the sofa in front of the TV with his foot propped up on the coffee table, I noticed the red light flickering on the answering machine.

  “I'll just see who this is before we watch your movie,” I said.

  The first message was from Bob. “Hey, babe, just wanted to let you know that Mark sprained his ankle and he's going to the hospital to get it taped up and get some splinters removed from some places where you wouldn't want to have splinters. He's okay. I'll drive him home if someone else doesn't beat me to it. Love ya.”

  The second one was from Penny Bowman. “Oh, hi, Dani, this is Penny Bowman. Remember me from Brownie Scouts? I always admired you for your excellent scouting skills. Now, I understand that you rent an apartment from a Mark Adams. The poor man has suffered a serious injury due to the negligence of a homeowner. Just as a rough estimate I would say that he's entitled to at least $25,000 in compensation, less my one-third of course. The pain and suffering alone is no doubt worth twice that, but I always try to be conservative with the insurance companies. Anyway, since I can't seem to get through to Mr. Adams I'll be glad to bring over the papers for you to give him to sign so I can proceed to right this wrong. Just give me a call as soon as possible.”

  “You were a Brownie Scout?” Mark asked.