Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  “Oh, I don't know. Maybe by telling them that I'm a general and you're just a private so, I out-rank you. Jimmy's very much into the military chain of command.”

  “A general?! So you promoted yourself to the highest rank possible and demoted me!”

  “Exactly. Jimmy sang like a canary, chorus and verse, while Charlene the motormouth dropped in a lot of details about how cute you looked in the skintight black shirt and leggings. She hopes that the blood stains from the nosebleed will wash out but she thinks that, after all, it won't matter too much because said skintight tank top was low cut enough that most of the blood was just on your skin. I admit I got a little distracted imagining what you looked like in your cat woman costume, but all-in-all I heard all I needed to know. When they were finished Jimmy saluted and off they went with Charlene vowing to him that she'd never flash a Frenchman, whatever the hell that means. Why on earth did you take that risk, Dani? The murderer could have killed you!”

  “Oh, that's nonsense! It wasn't the murderer! Look, the person has already killed Olivia; what possible reason would they have to go back and hang out at the crime scene?”

  “Oh, possibly to commit murder number two when he sees the local amateur sleuth go up the stairs to Olivia's apartment, obviously to try to find clues to exonerate her little jail bird friend. And what did you find that was worth risking your life for, Dani? I suppose Olivia left a notebook lying out in the open on her desk listing all the possible suspects, right? Or maybe you turned on her computer, guessed her password and found a list of shady business dealings she was involved in! Oh wait, you surely checked behind every picture on the walls and found a safe hidden behind one! Of course, you don't know the combination, but Olivia, in her final death throes, reached out and punched in the code, leaving the safe open giving you the chance to find stacks of cash and a list of people she was blackmailing along with their addresses, phone numbers, e-mail, and date of birth in case she wanted to send them birthday card! Let's see, the cards would say 'Enjoy your special day because it'll be your last unless you put a thousand bucks under my mat before I finish my kale salad.' You read too many mysteries, Dani. This is real life, not fiction. I would suggest that you cancel your library card before you get yourself killed.”

  Actually I had already canceled my library card. After being gone for 14 years I hadn't realized that they had raised the overdue fine at the library to $1.50 per day per book. There isn't a lot of reading done in East Spoon Creek City so I guess that not very many people protested. The week I returned from the Middle East I took out ten books, mysteries of course, got busy with other things and let them get two weeks overdue. I can't remember exactly what the total was, but I do remember that I almost had to miss a car payment. Somehow, however, I got the vibe that this wasn't the right time to explain that to Mark.

  “I'll ignore the sarcasm,” I said. “Anyway whoever it was didn't see me go up the stairs; he was already in the apartment. And I don't think he wanted to murder me; he just wanted to get away before I could recognize him. Of course if he were the guy Pearl told me about I wouldn't have recognized him anyway.”

  “Pearl? Who's Pearl?” he asked.

  “She's Georgine's daughter; you know, the lady who thinks that Bigfoot ogles her a lot.”

  “Oh, yeah, the naked homemaker. And we assume that Pearl is just as reliable as her mother?”

  “Well, I think it could be a solid lead.” I told him everything that Pearl and Jackie had told me about the man who argued with Olivia. “I called him after they left,” I said, “and he's agreed to meet with me tomorrow afternoon. He seemed nice.”

  “I assume you're to meeting him in some dingy dive bar on the wrong side of town.”

  “I don't think East Spoon Creek City has a wrong side of town, and no, I'm going to meet him at his office. He's a stock broker or day trader or something like that. His secretary answered the phone. He's perfectly respectable.”

  Mark was dialing his phone. “Chief, I need someone to sub for me tomorrow afternoon. I just found out I have to go out of town. Okay, thanks.”

  “Why, of all the high-handed things to do! You just decide that you're going with me and I'm supposed to agree?”

  “It goes without saying.”

  “I don't think so. I don't need a babysitter, thanks just the same. I've spent more than a decade on my own in the military and survived, in case you've forgotten.”

  “I wasn't in love with you then,” he replied as he was looking at his watch. “Let's see, we'll have lunch, then we should be in time to catch the new Mission Impossible movie at the mall in Pumpkin City. We'll pick up a pizza on the way home and we can watch TV while you ice your eye. I think if we leave about noon tomorrow we'll be in Newtown in plenty of time.”

  Mark just said he's in love with me! This is the moment I'd been hoping for. However, he also unilaterally decided that he was going to keep watch on me like a jailer so that I wouldn't do any more investigating without his approval. This I would not stand for; “Start as you mean to go” is how I feel when you're getting into a relationship. Of course I was in love with Mark, but that's no reason why I should go along with this total breach of my personal space. I'd have to set boundaries with him right now. This was not the time to discuss feelings. I know that sounds harsh but I'm a tough chick when I need to be. I certainly was not about to be distracted by this love thing.

  “You're in love with me?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he replied, “and you're obviously in love with me.”

  “How can you be so sure that I'm in love with you?” I asked, mentally preparing to buy a diary to enshrine his romantic response for our grand-children to read decades from now.

  “Well, for one thing you can't keep your hands off me.”

  “What?!” I think I could actually feel the smoke coming out of my ears. “I beg your pardon!”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, “I'm good with it.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Mark stopped in at the Breezy Spoon to meet me for breakfast before we started off for Newtown. Linda and Don would be coming in to cover the lunch rush for me since we'd need to leave early to make it all the way out to Newtown and back. Linda and Don are a married couple who live in the apartment above the Breezy Spoon. They were both retired, but when I took over the diner I was happy to hire them, because they're both really nice people and they cook the most delicious food you've ever eaten.

  I could see out of both eyes today, which was nice, as the swelling had gone down a lot since yesterday. It hadn't gone completely back to normal, but close enough that I could slather the black eye with make up and disguise it so that I was able to get through the breakfast rush without fielding a lot of questions about it from customers. Still, I was glad to be leaving early today.

  Brendan had made his signature breakfast hash which consisted of chopped sirloin steak, Yukon gold potatoes and Vidalia onions, grated cheese optional. He topped this with two sunny-side up eggs. The toast that came with it was almost an inch thick and was made from country style bread. There was a delivery from a local dairy farm this morning so we had freshly churned butter and Linda had made preserves from fresh strawberries. That was enough for me, but Mark ordered the oatmeal as well. Linda soaks the oats in apple juice before she cooks them and then adds finely chopped Honey Crisp apples, a medley of various raisins, and chopped walnuts. There's Tupelo honey and half-and half available to top off the oatmeal if you want it. Mark did.

  I am often asked how we could afford to use such expensive ingredients at the diner, but the answer was simple. East Spoon Creek City is surrounded by family farms. Both Gene McGee, who owns the only supermarket in town, and I make joint purchases from the local farmers who are happy to give us great prices since they can sell directly to us and don't have to pay a middleman. Since the farms are nearby we get deliveries of the freshest meat and produce several times a week. We also get bi-weekly shipments of fresh fish f
rom a local distributor in Pumpkin City. They're glad to sell to us at a discount rather than going to the expense of shipping their goods to a distributor across the country. It's a win/win situation for all of us.

  We had just finished eating when Harvey Loggins stopped by our booth. Harvey was about 75 years old and he and his son Roy are the farmers that supply the Breezy Spoon with all our dairy products. Roy and his wife even make specialty cheeses, although Harvey thinks that's a waste of time. “Cheese is cheese; who needs more than one kind?” he always said, but Roy went ahead anyway and I was glad of it.

  We always give Harvey his breakfast when he makes a delivery. He wants the same thing every time: three eggs, a thick slice of ham, hash browns, biscuits and red-eye gravy. Harvey brought his own thermos of coffee with him, because ours wasn't strong enough to suit him.

  “Well, Dani girl, I was over to your grand-pappy's house last week and we've come up with some idees for solvin' your problem,” Harvey said. He reached out his hand to Mark. “Harvey Loggins here, sonny. If you don't mind, I'll just set a spell and let Dani here know what we come up with.”

  “Absolutely, sir. She certainly has a lot of problems she could use help with.”

  The obvious thing for me to do at this point was to kick Mark in the shins, but I was wearing my white sandals and wasn't keen on breaking a toe.

  “By the way, Mr. Loggins, how are Roy and Mandy doing?” I asked in instead. Harvey liked to talk about his son and maybe he'd forget about whatever scheme he and Grandpa O'Shea had dreamed up to solve my non-existent problem.

  He shook his head. “Oh, little girl, that boy is a sore trial to his mother and me. He's lost his health. I guess you remember how he was the star of the football team. The East Spoon Creek City High School never had a better blocker than Roy Earl Loggins. As a freshman he come into school at 400 pound and never lost an ounce them four years. His teammates would just herd the other team toward him and they never got past him. Oh, he was a strappin' boy even from the time he was born. My wife knowed how to feed a baby; none of this silly canned formulars for Roy! She fed him the pure cream we got from the cows. He loved it, he did! He was 45 pound when he was six month old. But now he got out of school, got married and got anthrax. Why, he lost so much weight, he ain't over 200 pound now.”

  “Anthrax! That's horrible! How long has he had it?” I asked, as I was quickly trying to think where I could find a different dairy farmer fast.

  “Well, it's been about ten, twelve years now. He don't gain or lose weight, just stays the same. His wife and kids are skinny, too. She ain't no bigger than you are. They said on TV that a lot of young women get the anthrax because somebody called 'em fat. They want to be skinny and just quit eatin' and nobody can do nothin' about it.”

  “I think you mean anorexia,” I suggested, breathing a sigh of relief. No need for a new dairy supplier.

  “Yeah, that's the one. Roy's afflicted with it.”

  “That's terrible,” I agreed, although I had the feeling Roy would be fine as a 200 pound anorexic.

  “Now that's enough about my problems. I'm fixin' to help with you with yours!” Harvey said. “Now here's the story: Dorcas and Mutt Junior was over to the Post Office last week and heard Etta Jane talkin' to Miss Pat the dressmaker. Miss Pat was jokin' about making you a new sun-dress and how you was just a laughin' and sayin' that you'd a'gotten more but you'd end up in the poor house. Puttin' on a brave front, as they say.”

  Dorcas is Harvey's rather full-figured daughter, and Mutt Junior is her total terror of a six year old son. They would stop in the post office when Dorcas came into town to run errands for the family, and Etta Jane, who worked at the counter told me that she always took the shipping boxes and supplies and put them on the high shelves out of Mutt Junior's reach when she saw them coming.

  “Now this here's a bad situation with you not even havin' enough money for clothes,” Harvey continued, “particular since you done served your country for all them years, doin' the typewritin' and such so fellers like young Mark here could do the fightin'. Well, your grand-pappy and I know that a young girl like you don't have much of a head for business and that ain't to be expected, so we passed some idees back and forth to help you make a go of it.” He said to Mark, “I don't know as if you've met her grand-pappy Patrick Edward O'Shea, have you, sonny?”

  “No, sir,” Mark replied. “I haven't had the pleasure.”

  “Well, see to it, son. He can tell you some stories about little sis here that'll have you slappin' your knee. But back to the subject at hand. While I was eatin' at the counter I took the opportunity to explain to your cookin' feller what needs done around here to make you some money. I told him to just keep it simple; get himself a big pot about the size of a coffee urinal and soak 20 pound of navy beans overnight. Next mornin' throw in a couple a nice ham hocks, slow cook 'em till they's done and you could charge 45 to 50 cent a plate and still make you a good profit. I seen he had some leafy stuff he'd been choppin' at and I advised as how he could just throw in a couple handfuls of them greens and you got yourself a cassa-roil just like them ladies bring to the church suppers. You could charge as much as a dollar fifty-cent for that one if you set out a couple hunks of corn bread with it.”

  “Gee, those are sure some great ideas, Mr. Loggins,” I lied. “I appreciate you and Grandpa O'Shea for being concerned about me. The thing is, I don't usually wear dresses but I do have a lot of other clothes and I'm really doing okay.”

  Harvey turned to Mark. “I'm afraid little sis here is embarrassed for me to talk so plain in front of you, sonny, but they ain't no sense hidin' things when they can be fixed so easy.” He reached over and patted my hand. “Now don't you take no offense, Dani girl, but you know my daughter Dorcas likes you and since she's getting' older and filled out some, she's out-growed some of her dresses. She'd be mighty proud to pass some of them on to you till you can get this business on its feet. She's a mite heftier than you, gained a couple hunnert pound of that baby fat as they call it on top of what she done weighed already but you could hitch'em up a bit around the waist and you'd be good to go. Dorcas can bring 'em up when she and Mutt Senior brings up a load of pumpkins for the fair. That'll give you a chance to meet my grandson.”

  “Thanks but I really don't think-”

  He chuckled. “That Mutt Junior's a real buster! Some of the stuff he does will have you laughin' to beat the band! Just last week he set fire to the corn crib and when Dorcas asked him why he done it, he said, 'How else is I supposed to cook them legs I just pulled off the frog!' That young'un has got him a answer for everything! Your brother Bob probably done told you about that prank he played on the neighbor's cat. That animal was old anyhow. Mutt Senior didn't have much of a sense of humor about all that and he got after him somethin' terrible, but Dorcas and us grandparents made up for it with a little spoilin' of the boy. Well, I got to get me on my way but I sure hope that I been some help to you, sis.”

  “You sure have, Mr. Loggins, I appreciate your thinking of me.”

  As he left, Mark said, “I was going to use the restroom before we get started but I don't want to ruin the beans in the urinal.”

  “Don't worry about it, we don't use a coffee urn and I don't think Brendan makes casseroles.”

  Mark stood up. “Come on, little sis, we'd better be on our way to Newtown before the little arsonist sets the town on fire.”

  As Mark pulled his truck out of the parking lot I said, “Hey, do you mind stopping at Molly's Yarns for a second? It's on our way and I just want to run in quickly and grab some yarn for that blanket I'm making.”

  Mark shot a suspicious look at me. “I thought you already bought yarn for that,” he said. “Can't it wait?”

  “The shop will be closed by the time we get back. I'll only be a minute; we won't be late for our appointment with Jordan Burns.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “What do you mean? I just want to buy some yarn! Stop being so para
noid!” I tried to sound indignant but he wasn't buying it.

  “Okay, fine. I'll go in with you. We can buy yarn together.”

  “Great, I'm sure Suze will be happy to see you.”

  That got him. “Don't be long,” he said as well pulled up outside Molly's Yarns. “I'll keep the engine running.”

  Suze smiled as she saw me come in the door. “Hey there, Dani! What can I do you for?” she asked.

  “Oh, I'll just browse a bit,” I said.

  “Sure, go right ahead.”

  I didn't actually need any yarn, but if I came back to the car empty-handed I knew Mark would notice, so I grabbed a couple of skeins of the cheapest yarn I could find and took them to the counter. As Suze was ringing them up I said, “Suze, do you remember those two guys that were in the shop the last time I was here? The tall guy with the beard and the one with the tattoo on his neck?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  “Do you know where I could find them? Or do you have their number or anything?”

  Suze grinned. “One of them caught your eye, huh? Yeah, I like the bad boys, too!” she said, giving me a wink.

  “Uh, no, I just... need some help at the diner. I'm always looking for new bus boys and dishwashers.”

  “What happened to that hot dishwasher you have already?”

  “He's not working out,” I said. “He's always sticking his nose into other people's business.”

  “Hey, you should send him over here. I wouldn't mind having a big strong man around the shop to help with certain jobs I can't do myself.”

  I could imagine what sort of jobs she had in mind. “I'll let me know. But do you know anything about how I can find those two guys?”

  “Yeah, try the Dry Bed Motel. I was at a party there last night and I think I heard that old bucket-of-bolts that they drive pull in around midnight. Maybe they're staying there.”

  The Dry Bed Motel was a run down motel that sat along the highway at the end of Old Bucket Road. I should explain that the Dry Bed referred to a creek behind the motel that had gone dry decades ago and Elmore Hodson, the original owner, thought the name was funny. While the name of the motel may have made would-be customers chuckle, it didn't project the image of a place where they'd want to spend the night.