A Whiskey Sour Wipeout
Page 12
Guardrail laughed. “He was different, but he was a good man. I'll never forget when that little house cat took him down.”
The laughter just slipped from me. “I forgot about that. Or how he wouldn’t let that historian mess with the locket he found.”
“Dixie and us were just talking about that a few minutes before you got here.” Guardrail glanced to Dixie for confirmation.
“Yeah, we were. And how he never liked the grave digger jokes. But he took it all in stride.” Dixie chuckled a little thinking of all the times she gave him a hard time.
Bones bellowed from the back. “You know what I liked about Digger. He never complained about my cooking.”
Dixie snorted. “Oh yes he did. We all do, we just don’t let you hear to be nice.”
The clanking sound told me Bones had dropped his spatula on the grill. And sure enough, he emerged through the swinging door. “My cooking is the best. Why do you have to be so mean?”
Dad yelled at Bones. “Did you drop that dang spatula on the grill again? If you break that grill it’s coming out of your paycheck!”
I smiled and was jealous. It seemed my friends were getting back to normal, but it still felt like the grief I carried was crushing and it was even hard for me to breath with effort.
Piper and Ida came waltzing in through the front door. Piper made an announcement. “We got another ten papers to carry the column.”
Everyone had resumed life, but not me. I could not get over the loss of Digger. I took the envelope out of my pocket and opened it. It wasn’t a long note and it included a ten dollar bill. The note read, “If something happens to me, I know Dog and Guardrail will argue over my stool. But I would like the stool cremated and the ashes spread over my grave. Included with this request is ten dollars to cover a round of beers for Dog and Guardrail, my best drinking buddies, and a small tip for you Ginger. Take care of them, you are strong and smart and we always needed you to lead our motley crew. Your friend always, Digger.”
The tears came too fast to control them. I tried to compose myself and turned to Dixie. “Digger just bought a round of beers for Dog and Guardrail, so set them up!”
Dog looked like he was going to be sick. “Is that old coot’s ghost here?”
I snickered. “No, he left a note that I just got today. Here you can read it. It tells us what to do with his stool.”
Guardrail came over and took the note from me. After reading the message he laughed and addressed his business partner. “You aren't going to believe this, he wants us to burn the stool and sprinkle the ashes on his grave.”
Dog raised his eyebrows. “What? Well that’s a new one. But if that is what he wants, okay!”
Star jumped like she got a little electric shock, then she locked eyes with me. “The Grumpy Chicken helped Digger, and he knows you are all mourning him. But he doesn’t want that. And he feels guilty about burning the stool, but he just can’t have someone else taking it.”
Dixie hooted. “Now there’s a vision. Digger and the Grumpy Chicken. Which one you think is the scariest now? My money is on Digger. He was way grumpier than the chicken.”
Dog and Guardrail laughed. “I think you’re right, Dixie. The old grumper has her hands full now with Digger. But there is only one thing for us to do.” Guardrail raised his glass. “To Digger.”
Everyone in the pub raised their drinks, too. And they repeated, “To Digger!”
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A Shade of Murder
That Ol’ Black Magic
A Whole Lotta Witchin Goin On
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A Frosty Mug of Murder
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A Highball and a Low Blow
Cursed With a Twist
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