Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  The clock on the microwave said it was after 4:30; the bank closed at four, so everyone should 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 walls 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....

  “Come on! Answer!” I muttered.

  Suddenly I heard a clank! behind me and the vault door swung open. I turned and found myself face to face with Mark. He was dressed in his firefighting gear and his eyes grew wide when he saw me.

  “Dani?! What- how?”

  “Oh, Mark! You were just in time!” I gasped. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

  I heard the voice of Pat Duffy call, “Hey Mark, if you're finished making out we could use a little help with this fire!”

  “Dani, what are you doing here?” Mark asked. “We got a call that the movie theater was on fire, and we were on the way there when we saw the smoke coming from the rec center.”

  Just then I saw his eyes move from my face to the hole at the back of the vault. “Oh, you're kidding!” he groaned. “Dani, are you out of your mind?!”

  He picked me up and carried me to the front door of the bank, as smoke began to fill the room. Through the front windows I could see the flashing lights of the fire engines and the silhouettes of men running toward the rec center with fire hoses.

  “Mark, I can explain-” I started.

  “We'll talk later,” Mark snapped. “I'm so damned mad at you I don't trust myself to speak right now!”

  Once we got outside I saw Bob getting out a police car that had just pulled up behind the fire engine. Mark waved to him and he started in our direction. Good Lord, he looked mad, too! What was wrong with these people?

  Mark put me down on my feet and called to Bob, “I've got to help put the fire out! Try to keep her from killing herself until then, okay?”

  “What in the hell did you do this time, Dani?” Bob demanded.

  “I beg your pardon!” I retorted in my best indignant voice. “I'm not in the habit of setting buildings on fire! I'm the victim here!”

  “And just what were you doing the bank?”

  “I wasn't in the bank! Not on purpose, anyway. I was in the rec center; I, um...” I tried to remember my cover story. “I'm planning to rent it to host an event for the Breezy Spoon, so I had just come to look around to see if it was big enough.”

  “Really? What event?”

  “Um...” Rats! I hadn't bothered to work that part out!

  “Is it the sort of event where you stick your nose into an ongoing police investigation, even though you said you'd stay out of it?” Bob asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “You see, I bought a black light and was trying to see if there were traces of blood in the bank vault so I could prove that Lloyd Duval wasn't killed in the onion bin. People coming into the diner won't eat onions since he died and I've got bushels of onions that are going to rot and-”

  “And, of course, you thought we were too stupid to use Luminol to check the vault for blood. We did that right away and found plenty of traces of blood in the vault that someone had gone to pains to clean up.”

  “Oh... you didn't tell me that.”

  “And there was some reason why I should share evidence with you? You're not a detective, sis.”

  “No, I'm a business owner, and I was only trying to do something about my onions!”

  “Somehow I doubt if you were all that worried about 20 bucks worth of onions. Hell, the black light probably cost more than that.”

  “It wasn't that much,” I said. I wasn't about to admit that he was right. I put my hand in my pocket and found that it was empty. “Omigosh, I must have dropped it in the vault! I'll have to go back in and get it after the fire's out.”

  Bob sighed. “You know, I'd really prefer not to be around to watch Mark's head explode when you go back into the vault, so how about I take you to your car and you go back to the Breezy Spoon instead? You can give Mark a break and drive Brendan nuts for a while.”

  I decided to give Bob the silent treatment. Actually, I didn't really. It's just that I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  As I drove back to the Breezy Spoon I thought about the fire and the murder and the robbery and tried to get it all to make sense. It seemed like whoever murdered Lloyd Duval was also determined to burn down everything he had ever touched, too! But why? They had the money from the bank and they had Gene McGee to take the blame for the murder; why not leave well enough alone?

  There must be some piece of evidence that they needed to destroy; Lloyd must have had it in his possession, but whoever killed him couldn't find it. Ransacking his hotel room, burning down his house and now setting the rec center on fire was all part of a desperate attempt to get rid of that evidence. They were taking a lot of risks when it seemed like all they had to do was sit tight for a while and wait for Gene McGee to take the fall for the crime. It didn't add up.

  When I got to the Breezy Spoon I saw that Brendan had made up some trays of food to take to the city fair booth and I volunteered to take them there. I knew that Brendan would have heard what had happened at the rec center by now and I was in no mood to talk about it.

  After I got back from the fair I checked my watch and saw that it had been over an hour and a half since Mark had gotten me out of the bank vault. I decided to text him and see if the fire had been put out successfully. In other words I wanted to find out if he was still mad, which of course would be totally unfair, my being the victim and all that.

  I texted, “Are you doing all right?”

  He texted back, “ys.”

  “Do you want me to bring food for a late supper?”

  “k”

  I went into the kitchen and showed the texts to Brendan. “Can you tell from these texts whether Mark might still be ticked off at me, which we both know that he has no reason to be?”

  He looked at my phone. “Not really.”

  “Well, what's your best guess? Do you think he's s
till unfairly blaming me for something that I had no control over and was only trying to help an innocent person who has been falsely accused of a crime?”

  “It's three letters, Dani,” Brendan replied. “It's kind of hard to read a lot of emotion into that. Besides, why should he be upset with you just because you put yourself in a position where you might have been killed and then, according to Bob, wanted to go back into the inferno to get your ten buck black light? Nope, I can't see why anyone would be ticked off with you over that.”

  “You're wrong,” I said. “That black light cost $29.95 plus shipping and handling, not to mention sales tax.”

  Rats! Of course he was right; Mark was obviously holding a grudge which was why he was sending these snippy little texts. How childish! Well, I could be cold and aloof, too. I shouldn't have told him I'd bring food home for supper. Maybe I wouldn't bring in anything nice; I'd just make him a couple of bologna sandwiches and show him what I thought about his unreasonable behavior. That would get my point across.

  “Uh, do you happen to know if we have any rib-eye steaks left in the freezer?” I asked Brendan.

  “We do, but we also have some of the new bone-in filet mignon.”

  “The rib-eye will do,” I said. “I don't intend to grovel.”

  It was about 10:30 when Mark came to the back door. I knew he would be off work at 10 p.m. so I had already seared the steaks in butter and put them into the oven to finish.

  “Wow, something smells really good in here,” he said. “You said late supper so I was expecting a couple bologna sandwiches.”

  Note to myself: Drop the “getting my point across” idea in the future. Mark would have been happy with bologna sandwiches and I would have been stuck eating them instead of steak.