by F. M. Purdum
“You got Sandy fired, you bitch. She was the only thing that made this place bearable,” the cook gasped. “Sandy! I love you.”
“Uhh…what?” Sandy had a clear case of the willies.
“We belong together! I would wade through a mountain of fryer grease just to see you smile. Just give me a chance — I’m a nice guy! I’ll treat you like the princess you are…We have the right pheromones!”
The diner became eerily silent as everyone stared at Paul.
Carl broke the silence. “Really? That guy started like a week ago.”
“C’mon, lover. You have the right to remain silent…” Chip cuffed the cook and brought him up onto his feet and continued mumbling some sort of scripted jabber.
“Is it true, Kate? You...stole from me?” Carl asked, deploring.
“Okay, fine! I did it! But Sandy was manipulating you. I just wanted you to see her for who she really was.” Kate was a nutcase.
“Sandy, please forgive me. I should have known better,” Carl pleaded.
“You shouldn’t have trusted a snake,” Sandy responded.
“I know! What can I do to make this right?” Carl seemed remorseful.
“Giving me my job back would be a good start. Aannd, a raise!” Sandy sounded forgiving and excited.
“Of course, of course. Oh, and Kate...you’re fired.” Carl turned towards Kate with disgust.
“You’re going to regret this!” Kate screamed and swiped an arm at our table, knocking my breakfast and Chip’s coffee to the floor. “I spit in the pancakes every morning!” Kate hollered as she left the restaurant.
I was a biscuit and gravy man, myself.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Locke,” Sandy smiled.
“Call me Flint.”
“How did you know it was Paul? And that Kate was lying?” Sandy asked.
“Simple deduction. Kate was hoarding steaks at her apartment, had cans of food in her car, along with an apron full of tips; that incriminated Kate. Yesterday, when she went home, Kate found a death threat on her wall. Written in red paint. That tipped me off that Paul was our vandal.”
“How is that?”
“Yesterday morning, when I ran into him at the diner, he had fresh red paint on his bandana, which matched the paint on Kate’s wall. Paul had stolen her keys and used them to enter her apartment after she’d left for work yesterday morning. Then he rushed to work, himself. Also, the secret admirer note you had received was in the same handwriting as the eighty-six board he wrote on today.”
“Huh? Huh. Oh! So, I shouldn’t expect any more love notes.”
“Let’s hope not.”
I tipped my hat to Sandy and left.
Through my detective work, I managed to shine a light on both the guilty and innocent parties. Sandy didn’t deserve the stress she had endured, and I was pleased she got her job back. I felt satisfied with the case overall; though I didn’t get paid in full, I had Kate’s tip money to suffice. The dough would be enough to push us through at least another week. Hopefully, my next case would have a bit more teeth to it…and less hair pulling. Next step: introduce myself to the local businesses. Since it seemed the cops weren’t any better in this time than my own, there should be plenty of cases to be solved. And it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to other private investigators in the area. Maybe look into that Magnum fellow. A solid plan.
It had been a confusing couple of days but the caper was solved. A patsy, a grifter, and a cook dizzy with a dame. If only it shed some light on my own mystery. I remembered the mysterious substance I had found at the office and stopped in my tracks. I pulled out the envelope from my pocket and looked it over. How to get this analyzed? What would it reveal? I returned it to my pocket and continued back to the office. The players may have changed but the game remained the same.
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©2017 F.M. Purdum. All rights reserved.
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Acknowledgements
Cover design and art by Leslie Waara
Illustrations by Ginny Riley