Murder at Veronica's Diner

by J. D. Griffo

  “I think I had too much coffee,” Alberta fibbed as she took another sip, this time making sure her hold on the coffee cup was secure. “It’s very good here, but it’s stronger than mine.”

  Snapping her pocketbook shut and placing it once again to her side, Helen eyed her sister suspiciously and replied, “You drink espresso like it’s water. And you did that thing with your hair you always do before you tell a fib.”

  “What thing?” Alberta asked.

  “The thing you’ve been doing since you learned how to lie,” Helen answered. “You tucked it behind your ear. Fess up, Berta. What’s going on with you?”

  Family saves the day, as Alberta was always fond of saying, and this morning was no exception. Before she had a chance to answer, Jinx and Joyce walked into the diner and interrupted their conversation. Thanks to her granddaughter and sister-in-law’s timely arrival, she had avoided surrendering to her sister’s interrogation.

  “Sorry we’re late, Gram.”

  “Actually we’re fashionably late,” Joyce corrected.

  Jinx and Joyce looked at each other and started giggling like schoolgirls. Alberta and Helen, not in on the inside joke, stared at them like disapproving schoolmarms, which only made the latecomers laugh harder, until Jinx finally managed to stifle her laughter long enough to speak.

  “Scoot over, Gram, and I’ll explain.”

  Dutifully, Alberta slid down the vinyl bench so Jinx could sit. When she did, Alberta noticed two things. First, the teal color of the bench clashed with Jinx’s red outfit almost as horribly as Helen’s makeup and second, she needed to go on a diet. Her five foot four inch frame was not built to house more than 150 pounds. And Alberta was definitely tipping the scale at a higher number than that.

  On the other side of the bench Helen wasn’t being as cooperative. Instead of sliding over to the end of the booth, she slid her arm through the handle of her pocketbook so it hung in the crook of her elbow, and stood up to let Joyce sit down.

  “If I didn’t know you loved me so much, Helen, I’d swear you were testing me,” Joyce replied. Slightly taller than Alberta, but much thinner, Joyce had no problem sliding into her seat until she was leaning against the wall.

  “I don’t want to test myself,” Helen replied as she sat down on the bench close to the aisle. “At my age I like to have as direct a route as possible to the ladies’ room.”

  Looking at Alberta with complete sincerity, Jinx asked, “Do you want to switch places with me, Gram? I have no problem holding it in.”

  Not sure if she wanted to slap her granddaughter or laugh in her face, Alberta replied, “Thank you, lovey, but I’m not as old as my sister. I still have authority over my own bladder.”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Helen said, “Until the day comes when you have to make a number one, but you’re playing bingo and you’re wedged in between two women who use walkers and the nearest bathroom is two flights down. Mark my words, Berta, that day is right around the corner.”

  “Basta!” Alberta cried. “I want to know why Jinx and Joyce were late.”

  “I thought it was high time I gave Jinx access to the Joyce Perkins Ferrara Museum of Fashion History,” Joyce said, beaming with pride.

  “Also known as Aunt Joyce’s closet!” Jinx squealed. “Gram, have you ever visited?”

  “On many occasions,” Alberta replied. “Each time I’m stunned by the sheer size of the closet. Madon! That thing is huge.”

  “I think the appropriate word is ostentatious,” Helen said. “Another would be unnecessary.”

  Ignoring Helen, Joyce grabbed the coffeepot sitting in the middle of the table and filled her cup. “Also too, another word would be none of your business.”

  “That’s more than one word,” Helen said.

  “I have explained this to you many times, Helen,” Joyce started. “I earned every item in that closet.”

  As one of the few African-American women working on Wall Street in the 1970s, Joyce had been a trailblazer. She had to work twice as hard as her male colleagues just to ensure that she wouldn’t get fired. Her natural aptitude for understanding and expertly navigating the financial markets along with her strong work ethic ensured that she would climb high up on the professional ladder. At least as high as a woman of her ethnic background could climb back then.

  She was never going to blend into the demographic landscape, so she took a different route and chose to stand out. Instead of adopting a masculine wardrobe like the other women working in her industry, her outfits all had a distinctly feminine touch. The only concession she made was to keep her hair cut very short, which she still did. Joyce loved that her no-frills hairstyle helped showcase the dangling earrings she often wore, like the gold hoops she sported now, which were her favorite.

  “I worked my butt off for years,” Joyce continued. “I helped pay our mortgage, I helped put our boys through college, and I built a huge nest egg, I deserve every dress, pantsuit, shoe, and accessory that is hanging in that closet of mine.”

  “I think calling it a closet really is a disservice, Aunt Joyce. It’s more like a guest house, and I’m so happy to be your guest,” Jinx declared.

  “Any time, sweetie,” Joyce said. “I can fit into most of the things from my heyday when I walked the runway on Wall Street, but even I have to admit that not all my clothes are age appropriate for a woman of my age.”

  “Which works for me because that means I get to wear them!” Jinx shouted. “Like this Joyce Ferrara original.”

  “It’s actually a Pucci, but who’s keeping score?” Joyce corrected.

  Jinx opened up her red leather jacket to reveal a long-sleeved silk blouse in the fashion icon’s signature brightly colored, psychedelic design, paired with leather pants in the identical shade of her jacket. With her long black hair falling in waves just below her shoulders, her shimmering green eyes, and the chiseled bone structure of her face, Alberta thought that her granddaughter could be a supermodel. In Joyce’s hand-me-down, she certainly looked the part.

  “And check out these shoes,” Jinx squealed.

  She did a high kick to show off a t-strap black platform shoe that added at least three inches to her 5’8” height. While Jinx’s kick was an impressive display of physical dexterity, the heel of her shoe came dangerously close to sending an elderly man directly to the emergency room.

  “Careful, lovey,” Alberta said. “Your outfit is beautiful, but you don’t want some innocent man to become a fashion victim.”

  Jinx wasn’t sure if her grandmother was trying to make a joke, but she found the play on words hysterical and once again let out a high-pitched squeal. This time the sound was overshadowed by a loud crash coming from the kitchen. It sounded like every piece of cutlery within a ten-mile radius of the diner had fallen onto a metal floor.

  “Caro signore!” Alberta declared. “What was that?”

  “Just a typical morning at the diner,” Joyce answered.

  Helen looked over to the front counter and the door on the left that led into the kitchen. She looked as anxious as she claimed Alberta had only moments ago.

  “What’s wrong, Helen?” Alberta asked.

  “Probably nothing, but the diner is much busier than usual this morning,” Helen said. “Looks like they might be short staffed.”

  Craning her neck to get a better view of the activity all throughout the diner, Joyce agreed. “You’re right, Teri Jo is running around like a headless chicken.”

  “She works very hard, that one does,” Helen commented.

  “I don’t know how she does it,” Jinx remarked. “I’m at least ten years younger than she is and I’d have a heart attack if I had to run around the way she does.”

  “Especially in those shoes you’re wearing,” Joyce added.

  “Who’s Teri Jo?” Alberta asked.

  “That would be me.”

  All four women turned to the waitress standing at the head of the table, three with a look of recognition, one with
a blank stare. Alberta was the only one of the group who didn’t know who Teri Jo was.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” Alberta said. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

  “Berta!” Helen yelled. “Teri Jo brought us our coffee when we sat down. You were the one who ordered eggs Benedict for all four of us.”

  Embarrassed, Alberta’s face started to turn red. Before it looked like her flesh was on fire, she remembered that being honest is usually the best recourse when you metaphorically shove your foot into your mouth. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m still a little foggy.”

  Clutching her small order pad and pen, Teri Jo laughed, but it was more like an intake of breath with no energy or truth behind it. Alberta looked at the waitress’s face and it was apparent to her that she wasn’t in the mood to laugh; in fact, Teri Jo looked just as tired as Alberta felt.

  She had lines around the corners of her mouth and several on her forehead. The skin underneath her eyes was taut, but darkened, and her eyes themselves, while not bloodshot, had small red veins etched into what had once been a pure white surface. Her hair looked just as damaged.

  A short pixie haircut like the one Mia Farrow and Twiggy made famous back in the ’60s only worked if it accentuated petite facial features and if the hair was shiny and healthy looking. All Teri Jo’s cropped cut did was highlight the weariness in her face and the brittle quality of her hair. Instead of a woman in her late thirties, she looked like a teenage boy after a night of carousing.

  Teri Jo must have felt she was being studied because she started to click the end of her pen, which only drew Alberta’s attention to the awful state of her fingernails and cuticles. The waitress was definitely in need of a makeover, but before she could make an appointment with an aesthetician, she needed to make it through the morning rush.

  “Are you alright?” Helen asked. “You seem a bit worried.”

  Teri Jo scrunched up her forehead, creating even more lines, and swallowed hard before answering. “I’m fine. One of the waitresses called out sick, so I’m on my own and we’ve been having plumbing issues with the bathrooms,” she explained. “It hasn’t been a great morning.”

  Helen grabbed the woman’s hand, and even though she flinched, Teri Jo didn’t pull away. “Remember what I told you to do when things get hectic,” Helen said. “Take a deep breath, let it out, and everything will feel a lot better.”

  Smiling her first genuine smile, Teri Jo looked directly into Helen’s eyes. “Thank you, Helen, you always know the right thing to say.”

  Teri Jo followed Helen’s orders and took such a deep breath it was as if she was trying to inflate her skinny limbs. She exhaled and although she didn’t look any less thin than a moment ago, she smiled triumphantly. Her energy renewed, she went into waitress mode, grabbed the coffeepot, and filled up everyone’s cup before placing it back down in the middle of the table. “I’ll go check on your eggs and make sure Luis hasn’t burned them to a crisp.”

  After she left, Helen noticed all three women staring at her. Instead of asking them why they were staring, she folded her hands in her lap, and stared back.

  “Since when has anyone said to you that you always know the right thing to say?” Alberta asked. “Seriously, Helen, who are you?”

  “I’m just a girl, sitting in a booth at a diner, giving another girl a little advice,” Helen remarked.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Aunt Helen,” Jinx said, pouring some milk into her coffee. “Though with your history of public service as a nun, a teacher, and a counselor, I shouldn’t be surprised to see you reach out to help a stranger.”

  Helen grabbed the small milk pitcher from Jinx and replied, “Teri Jo Linbruck is hardly a stranger; she’s the hardest working waitress here. We’ve gotten to talk quite a bit when I come in during the week and it isn’t so busy.”

  “It looks like she could use someone to talk to,” Alberta said. “And you, Helen, look like you have more to say.”

  Once again three heads turned to face Helen, but this time instead of remaining silent, she replied, “I think she’s lying.”

  “About what?” Joyce asked. “Look around, Helen, this joint is jumping. I think it’s more crowded than I’ve ever seen it.”

  Helen didn’t follow Joyce’s instruction, but nodded in agreement. “You’re right, it’s very busy, but . . .” Helen paused and seemed to finish her sentence silently. After a few seconds she decided to share it with the rest of the group. “Teri Jo hasn’t had the easiest life. She’s confided some things to me, so I’ve gotten to know her fairly well and I get the feeling that there’s more to her than being frazzled by a busy breakfast rush.”

  The women wanted to barrage Helen with questions about Teri Jo and her difficult background, but at that precise moment the waitress appeared at their table with four plates of eggs Benedict. She balanced three plates expertly on one arm and held one in the other, which she placed in front of Jinx. She doled out the rest of the plates until she placed the last one in front of Helen. Just as she did, Helen turned her head to the right and sneezed into her arm.

  “Salute” Teri Jo said.

  “Thank you, dear,” Helen replied. “Before I forget, do you need a ride later to the animal hospital for our volunteer session?”

  “No, I . . . can’t go today,” Teri Jo said. “I have some errands to run.”

  Pulling a tissue out of her pocketbook, Helen blew her nose. “That’s too bad. The animals always seem to calm you down.”

  “I’ll try to make it if I get done early.”

  “Teri Jo!”

  The shout didn’t emanate from their table, but from somewhere in the kitchen. By the harsh sound of his voice, Luis, the cook, clearly needed assistance ASAP.

  “I better see what trouble I’m in now,” Teri Jo declared before dashing off.

  “Poor thing,” Alberta said, cutting into her eggs. “She really is running ragged. Hopefully the rush will be over soon.”

  After they all took the last bite of their breakfasts and stopped talking for more than a few seconds, they realized the din in the diner had gotten louder. The morning rush was far from over and it sounded as if it was only getting busier.

  When Teri Jo rushed over to their table they expected her to start taking their plates away, but instead she placed a box in the middle of the table next to the coffeepot.

  “What’s that?” Helen asked.

  “One of my errands,” Teri Jo replied. “I’m supposed to deliver this, but I’m never going to get out of here on time. Could you please do me a favor and deliver it? If I don’t I’m going to get into trouble, and I’ve had enough of that already with this crazy morning.”

  Helen reached out and grabbed Teri Jo’s hand. Again, the waitress was instantly resistant to the touch, but forced herself to allow the connection to continue. “Ciò che Dio fa è ben fatto,” Helen said.

  “Each day brings its own bread?” Joyce translated.

  Not looking at her sister-in-law, but continuing to hold her connection to Teri Jo, Helen elaborated. “It literally means ‘What God does is well done.” Don’t worry so much about the future.”

  Teri Jo smiled, although it looked like she was about to cry, and said, “I’ll try to remember that.”

  The women sat in silence for a while, each wondering what could have Teri Jo so upset, but also grateful that Helen appeared to be a source of comfort for the woman. A beep went off that interrupted their thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, I have to leave for an appointment. I have to interview someone for an article,” Jinx said, checking her phone. “I swear I don’t think I’d remember anything if I didn’t set an alarm to remind me.”

  “Do you see Teri Jo, so you can ask for the check?” Alberta asked.

  Helen looked up and saw Teri Jo walking toward their table. She waved her hand, but before she could scribble in the air, which everyone understood was the universal, unspoken way to ask for a check, s
he noticed a look of utter fear consume the waitress’s face. When Teri Jo fell to the floor inches from their table, that same look transferred to the faces of each of the four women.

  They weren’t horrified because Teri Jo had fallen, they were horrified because a butcher knife was jutting out of her back. Teri Jo wouldn’t have to worry about her future any longer—she no longer had one.

  CHAPTER 2

  Felici sono quelli che sono chiamati alla sua cena.

  The first one to reach Teri Jo was Helen, but when she got to the woman’s side there was nothing for her to do. Teri Jo’s body was unmoving and lifeless, the butcher knife sticking straight up from the center of her back. The only movement was coming from the blood that still seeped out of her wound, staining her white shirt a deep red and spilling down the sides of her body. Instinctively, Helen grabbed Teri Jo’s wrist to feel for a pulse. Even though she didn’t find one, she didn’t let go.

  Alberta knelt next to her sister. She knew she couldn’t do anything to help, she just wanted to be near Helen so she would know she wasn’t alone. Alberta knew it was exactly what Helen was doing for Teri Jo. The woman’s soul might be lingering within her body for a few moments—who really knew what happened at the time of death—and Helen wanted to make sure that Teri Jo knew she would not leave this world without a witness. More personally, Helen wanted Teri Jo to know that she left someone behind.

  Jinx and Joyce knelt on the opposite side of Teri Jo’s body, so it was as if the four women were creating a human blockade to separate death from life. All around them people were screaming, shocked by the sight. They overheard several people calling the police and an ambulance, not that the latter would do any good, but the fact was that all around them was activity and action. They wanted to make sure none of it disrupted the unmoving body lying in front of them. Teri Jo wasn’t just a person who should be respected; her corpse was also a crime scene that couldn’t be contaminated.

  Jinx looked up and saw Alberta looking around the diner, her expression calm but her eyes darting from left to right. Jinx was impressed at the sight. Her grandmother was turning into a real detective after all. She was kneeling before a dead body with a knife sticking out of it, but she wasn’t freaking out or screaming, she was searching for a murderer.