by Tracey Quinn
“Yes,” she said, “We just found out about it last night and we wanted you to be the first to know about it!”
“But have you told your parents?”
“No, they wouldn't be interested. That's why Jimmy and I thought we should call you.”
“Don't you think you should go see Dr. Bill just to be sure?” I asked.
“Oh, no. I know Dr. Bill is interested in this kind of thing, but Jimmy and I know all we need to know, and besides he might tell our parents. We talked it over and decided that you're the only one we'll tell about it.”
My knees went weak. Why did I hire teenagers? Because they were cheap, of course. I was remembering an old saying “The cheap sometimes turns out expensive.” It seemed like this was going to be of those sometimes. I mentally strapped on my seat belt and plunged right in.
“Okay, we'll talk about it some more later, but what can I do for you right now?”
“Well, Mr. Hurley said you were going down by the lake and I thought if you saw it you could take some pictures. We couldn't see it too well last night.”
“Take pictures?” I asked. “Of what?”
“The baby lake monster,” she replied. “The lake monster we saw last spring must have been female and she's had a baby. Jimmy and I saw it last night; it had such cute little flashing eyes and all! It's all so exciting! It was too dark so the pictures we took didn't turn out, so if you see it could you take some pictures while it's still daylight? We want to sell them to TV stations and newspapers. That is, if you have your phone with you.”
In that moment I discovered that a person can be both relieved and infuriated at the same time.
“You and I are talking on my phone right now, Charlene,” I said through what I think were gritted teeth. “I'll be sure to take pictures of the baby lake monster if I see it. Would you mind waiting on customers now?”
“Oh, sure, there's a whole bunch of them but they all seem to be just looking at menus. I also need to tell you that Pearl from the beauty parlor said there's some kind of bug going around that gets on a person's scalp and drills holes in the skull and eats brain tissue. It's really scary. She said it escaped from some science lab where they were studying it. She sells some special shampoo that can kill them, though.”
Bunches of customers all waiting to order. My only waitress talking about baby lake monsters and skull-drilling bugs. Give me patience, Lord.
“Thanks for the information, Charlene. Now here's the thing; customers look at menus and then they want to order food. Go take their orders now because if they get tired of waiting and walk out I won't have enough money to pay you and that would be a bad thing, wouldn't it?”
“That's a good point, Miss O'Shea.”
“And tell Jimmy to refill the towel dispenser in the men's room. People are using up a lot of my napkins.”
“Okay, but please don't forget about the pictures.”
“Don't worry, I'll certainly remember this conversation.”
Mark and I sat down on a bench overlooking the lake.
“So I assume the baby in question belongs to the lake monster and not to Charlene and Jimmy?” he asked.
“Yes, and she wants me to take pictures of it,” I said. “She also warned me about a new kind of bug that drills through the scalp and eats brains.”
“Well, if it makes it through her scalp, it'll starve. By the way, the beach on the other side of the lake at Pumpkin City is great. Why didn't they make a beach on this side of the lake here in East Spoon Creek City? It wouldn't be that hard to do.”
“Probably for the same reason that we don't have street signs, crosswalks or stripes on the roads. I would have asked for roller skates for my birthday when I was a kid but we didn't have sidewalks on our street. You know, Lloyd Duval could actually beat Mayor Pumphrey if he runs any kind of decent campaign.”
“Probably,” Mark said. “When is your birthday?”
“Valentine's Day,” I replied. “When's yours?”
“The Fourth of July.”
“You're joking! Born on the Fourth of July; isn't that a movie?”
”Yes, it's a movie, but some people are actually born on the Fourth of July and I'm one of them.”
“Oh, but I missed your birthday,” I said. “I didn't know about it and I didn't get you anything.”
“Well,” said Mark as he put his arm around my shoulders, “when my brother Dave and I were kids instead of buying a present for my Mom we would do something special for her. She said it meant more to her than if we had bought something for her. Maybe you'd like to think of something special you could do for me.”
“Absolutely. There's a sale on men's polo shirts at the mall. I'll go there tomorrow.”
Chapter 4
The next morning when I opened the Breezy Spoon for the day, I saw Zeke and Kristi Constable among the early crowd, but fortunately there was no sign of Roger with them. Zeke wore a woolen hat and gloves, as well as a scarf tucked under his bristly gray beard, in spite of the weather being warm even at this early hour. Kristi tottered along beside him on her ridiculously high heels, her much jewelry clinking as she walked.
Kristi is plump and peroxide blonde and about half Zeke's age; I suppose it's flattering to old Zeke's ego to have a trophy wife of sorts, but judging from the scowl on his face, he wasn't enjoying it much at the moment. I showed them to a table, and then to a second one as Kristi thought the first one was too drafty for Zeke, and gave them menus.
“Let me take your hat and scarf and hang them up on the rack for you,” I offered.
“The garbage can's closer,” Zeke grumbled. “Just stick 'em in there!”
“Now cupcake, if you don't wear your hat outside, your head will get as sunburned as a little ol' tomato!” Kristi clucked. “You're just grumpy 'cause of your blood sugar. Let's get you something to eat. What's the special today, Dani darling?”
“Huevos rancheros with beef chili and fresh guacamole, served with a side of potatoes O'Brien and flaky cheddar biscuits. Your choice of strawberry parfait or chocolate chunk muffins for dessert.”
“We'll have two of those,” Kristi replied. “Only leave the chili off of Zeke's; it makes him toot. Oh, and guacamole is too spicy for him; just a few avocado slices will do. No potatoes for him, but I'll have extra. I'll have the chocolate chunk muffin, and give Zeke the strawberry parfait.”
“I'll put that order in for you right now,” I said.
“Thank you, dear, and leave the strawberries off the parfait. They make Zeke's little ol' allergies kick up something fierce.”
Zeke looked ready to kick up something fierce himself, so I took the order back to the kitchen window rather than stay and witness a murder. That was when I noticed a grizzly bear in overalls sitting at the counter. Okay, it wasn't actually a grizzly bear, but it was a man who was the size of a grizzly bear with shaggy black hair and a bushy beard. He wore a cap turned backwards on his head and smudged white overalls with “Belcher's Towing” written across his huge back.
“Gimme a coffee and one a' them muffin things,” he grunted as I approached the counter.
He had the manners of a grizzly bear, too. “Sure, how do you take your coffee?” I asked.
“Four sugars.”
Menacing, rude, and four sugars in his coffee; yep, he was definitely a homicidal maniac. If he was going to be towing cars around town, that would mean great business for McGarity's Garage, since everyone would be getting their cars into tip top shape to make sure they never needed to call the tow truck.
Apparently I had been worrying about the wrong homicidal maniac though, for suddenly I heard shouting from the back of the dining room: “What can I do?! I can kill him, that's what I can do! That's what I will do!”
“Gene, no!”
The second voice was Kitty's, and I hurried around the counter to see what was going on. Kitty had just come inside the back door and I could see that her face was pale and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Gene McGe
e, still wearing his McGee's Market apron, was standing in the doorway, looking as mad a I've ever seen him.
“That no-account bum isn't going to lay one finger on you!” Gene shouted. “I'm going right home and get my hunting rifle! It wouldn't be the first time I've shot a skunk!”
Through the window I saw Bob running up to the door. “Gene, take it easy! I'll handle this,” he called. “Where's Kitty?”
“I'm here, Bob!” Kitty cried. “I'm okay!”
“She's not the one you have to worry about, deputy!” Gene snapped. “Just wait til I get that rat in my sights!”
Customers had left their seats and were gathering by the counter to get a look at the cause of the commotion. Bob took Gene by the arm and led him outside. “Simmer down, Gene,” he said. “I don't want to have to arrest you for disorderly conduct.”
“Stick around for a few minutes and you can arrest me for murder!”
I closed the door and returned to where Kitty was standing. “Kitty, are you okay?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Lloyd happened,” she sniffed. “I don't want to talk about it out here.”
“Of course. Let's go into my office.”
Once inside, Kitty slumped into a chair and wiped her eyes. “I had just gotten Timmy ready for school and as soon as I opened the front door to walk him to the bus, there was Lloyd! He walked right up to me and put his face just a few inches from mine and said he heard that I had been saying bad things about him around town! I told him to go away or I'd call the police, but he just laughed; he jabbed a finger right at me and told me that he's got a good thing going and if I ruin it for him I'll be sorry!”
“That bastard! He hasn't changed a bit! What did you do?”
“Laurie was inside the house and heard what he said and she told him she was calling the police and Gene, and he'd better hope the police got there first. Well, Lloyd left but not before telling me to keep my mouth shut or he'd shut it for me. Then Laurie did call Gene, and you can see what that led to.”
“I don't blame him,” I said. “I've half a mind to join his hunting party myself! Now listen, Bob will handle this, but I don't want you going home alone at the end of your shift. I'm sure Brendan will be glad to drive you home and make sure you get inside safely, and I'll pick you up in the mornings-”
“Why did Lloyd have to come back?” Kitty cried. “And now he's going to stay in town and he's going to be the mayor and ruin our lives!”
“There's no way Lloyd is going to be mayor,” I said. Inside I wasn't feeling so confident; I could picture the debate with Lloyd looking handsome and dressed as if he just stepped off the cover of Gentleman's Quarterly, making an impressive speech to the crowd while Mayor Pumphrey wiped gravy off his tie and tried to remember what year it is. I wondered how much it would cost to move a diner to another town.
That night I had a strange dream that my phone was ringing and wouldn't stop. When I opened my eyes I saw that my phone was ringing and wouldn't stop. It was 6:17 am. The caller ID said “Charlene”. I reached for my phone to turn it off. I didn't have to be to work till 2 pm so I had stayed up late last night finishing some housework and then I sat down to have a cup of tea before I went to bed. Of course, I had to wait till the tea cooled down so I turned on the TV. I knew better than to turn to a shopping channel because I know my weaknesses so I went to YouTube and came across some videos that showed innumerable hacks on how to use common household objects in “ways to make your life better”. I had never realized that I could hot glue an ordinary clip-on clothespin to my wall to hold important documents instead of putting them in a drawer.
Since I had learned that at about 2 am, I decided that whatever Charlene had to say could wait, and I closed my eyes again. After a few seconds the thought occurred to me that, being Charlene, she might be calling to tell me that she had accidentally burned the Breezy Spoon down. I reluctantly picked up the phone and hit the button.
“Do you know what time it is, Charlene?”
“No, but if you hold on I can go downstairs and look at the clock in the kitchen,” she replied.
“No, no, no, just tell me what you want,” I said quickly.
“I just wanted to tell you that Mr. McGee dumped a truckload of onions on Lloyd Duval and killed him and then he robbed the bank to get money for his getaway and an angel came and took Mr. Duval's soul away in a grocery cart and Pearl's mother Georgene saw it all because she was parked behind the grocery store with a gentleman she had just met at Sammy's Lounge and I wanted to ask if you think angels are real or if Pearl's mother could have been wrong and maybe it was a saint because Jimmy thinks it was the ghost of Florence Nightingale but I don't think she would-”
I heard the call waiting tone and saw that it was Mark. “I'll have to call you back, Charlene. There's a call I have to take,” I said.
“Oh, that's okay, Miss O'Shea,” she replied. “I have a whole bunch of people I have to call about this before I go to school. I wonder if it's safe for me to go out with Mr. McGee on the loose?”
“Go ahead to school, Charlene. I'm sure you'll be safe.”
“If you're sure...”
“I'm really sure. Good-bye.” I hung up and then pressed the call button again and said, “Mark! Did Gene McGee really kill Lloyd Duval?”
“I assume that you've just been talking to Charlene?” Mark said.
“Who else?”
“That's what I thought, so I decided I should call and give you a version of the events that didn't involve Bigfoot.”
“So is Lloyd really dead?”
“Indeed he is. Phil Dawkins from the cannery was making a delivery to McGee's Market when he saw a hand sticking out from a big crate of onions. He dug out the onions and found Lloyd lying in the bottom of the crate. We got the call at the firehouse from emergency dispatch to go out to the scene and help while the ambulance was on its way, but when we got there it was clear there wasn't anything we could do. Lloyd's body was already cold.”
“I suppose there's no chance that it could have been an accident?” I asked. “Maybe he slipped and fell into the crate and whoever filled the crate with onions didn't notice him...”
“If he also shot himself twice in the back while he was at it, then sure, it could have been an accident.”
“Oh. What did the sheriff say when he arrived?”
“He said we should leave and stop contaminating the crime scene,” Mark replied. “But I suppose you're asking if Gene McGee did it. Well, there was only a little blood in the bottom of the onion crate and nothing on the ground around it, so it seems like Lloyd was killed somewhere else and just dumped there by whoever killed him. Still, from what Pearl says, Gene was heard threatening to shoot Lloyd just yesterday at the Breezy Spoon and here he his dead at McGee's Market, so it doesn't look good for him.”
“Pearl? From the beauty salon? What was she doing at the crime scene?”
“She wasn't. She had heard it from Charlene and she in turn told Jolene who then told Pat Duffy's wife who called Pat over the radio in the firetruck and told him, and then Pat told me when I got back in the truck after the sheriff arrived. Wait, I may have left one or two people out of the chain; Charlene, Pearl, Jolene, Pat's wife....”
East Spoon Creek City runs on gossip. I think it's our main export. Just then I recalled something else Charlene had said. “Charlene told me about a bank robbery, too. Was the Farnsworth Bank robbed?”
“Yeah, we heard about it when we got back to the firehouse,” Mark said. “When the bank staff got in this morning they saw that someone had sawed through the wall and gotten into the bank vault from the rec center on other side.”
“Wait, how did the robbers cut through the steel vault with a saw?” I asked. “I would have thought they'd use explosives like they do in movies.”
“They probably would have if the walls of the vault were made of steel, but since only the front of the vault is steel they only had to cut through drywall and plywood to get in.”
“You're kidding! Who makes a bank vault like that?”
“Apparently George Farnsworth's grandfather did when he built the bank. I suppose it saved money and he figured no one would suspect that a bank would have a safe that was so vulnerable. It worked until it didn't, I guess.”
“I'll bet Lloyd Duval did it! That's why he started renting out the rec center and giving lectures; it was all a front so he could break into the bank! It's probably the only reason he came back to town at all!”
“Maybe, but a lot of people went into the rec center, and who would have told Lloyd about the vault? Besides, he spent his evening hanging out with the produce at McGee's Market, in case you've forgotten.”
“Yes, that's just it!” I said. “Lloyd must have had a partner; once they cleaned out the bank vault the partner decides he doesn't want to share, and it's bang-bang, goodbye Lloyd! Then he dumps the body at the market to throw suspicion on Gene!”
“Now look, before you start playing detective again just remember that this is all speculation,” Mark cautioned. “And wasn't Lloyd going to run for mayor? Didn't sound like he was planning to skip town with the money from the bank vault.”
“But still-”
“Dani, the sheriff is already investigating the murder and the robbery and he doesn't need your help. Just do me a favor and don't make him have to investigate your murder, too.”
“Well, if you and I work together this time...”
“I do have some suggestions about what you and I can do together but none of them include chasing a desperate killer. Just leave it alone, okay?”
“Okay! I was only talking!”
After Mark hung up I decided that he was right, I wouldn't get involved. It was definitely too dangerous and the sheriff would be on top of it anyway. Besides, the city fair started soon and the Breezy Spoon was going to have a booth there, so I'd have to manage that as well as the diner. I wouldn't have time to think about anything else, certainly not about the bank getting robbed and Lloyd Duval ending up smothered in onions....
Chapter 5