Watchin' The Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
C hapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
C hapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
C hapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty- Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
C hapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Watchin’ the Detective:
A Mystery Dinner Romance
By Louise Hathaway
Copyright Louise Hathaway 2014
Smashwords Edition
Chapter One
It would be so fun to go to one of those murder mystery shows, Isabella Forshey tells herself on her morning walk to work. She read about one while eating breakfast and drinking her first cup of coffee. It’s a beautiful spring day in downtown Santa Ana, the heart and soul (according to some people) of Orange County, California. The jacaranda trees are in their purple splendor and petals are drifting down, blanketing the streets and sidewalks. Isabella lives in the Washington Square District of Santa Ana, an oasis of beautiful homes, many built in the 1940’s, which are often showcased on home and garden tours. She’s a librarian at the Santa Ana Public Library.
As she walks, she feels her thigh-high black nylons—the ones she just bought at Victoria’s Secret—slipping down her legs. These are supposed to stay up on their own without having to use a garter belt, she tells herself in frustration, as she awkwardly tries to hike them up while walking. When she gets to the intersection of Flower and Civic Center and waits for the traffic light to change, unhappy and confused jurors reporting to the courthouse for their first day of jury service complain about jury service to each other. I don’t know what their problem is. I loved serving on a jury. It was interesting and fun.
One of the jurors sees the id badge that Isabella wears on a lanyard around her neck and says, “Do you work around here?”
“Yes I do.”
“How far is it to the courthouse?”
“You are almost there. It’s only one more block.”
“Is my car going to be safe in that parking garage?”
“I hope so,” she responds. How should I know?
Someone else who’s waiting for the traffic light to change asks her, “Where’s building 22?”
She answers, “I’m not really sure.” What am I? A guided tour director here?
“But I need to get there by 8:00. I have an appointment. It’s important.”
“I hope you make it,” she responds.
“Why don’t you know where the building is? I thought you worked around here.”
For heaven’s sakes. She doesn’t respond to the rude remark. The traffic light finally changes and she and the crowd make their way across the street. The line going into the courthouse stretches out for almost a block. Some of the potential jurors walking with Isabella let out a collective groan when they see the line. One of them asks her, “Is that the line for the jurors?”
“Afraid so.”
“Why is it so long?”
“You all have to go through the metal detector.”
One of the ladies complains, “I don’t like doing that. It’s too much radiation.”
Isabella says, “It’s for your own safety. You don’t want a crazy man to come in with a gun and start shooting people, do you?”
The lady is taken aback and says, “Is it dangerous around here?”
When are these people going to leave me alone?
“Not in the daytime,” she answers and then says, “Bye,” to the crowd she’s walking with. She tries to keep in her “happy zone” and notices how pretty the Lilies of the Nile are in front of the courthouse. She walks by a man hawking newspapers the old-fashioned-Norman-Rockwell way, saying, “Kelly Thomas verdict. Read all about it.”
There is a coffee cart called “Legal Grounds” parked in front of the courthouse, and Isabella stops to order one of their delicious Café Lattes.
The barista sees her and says, “Hello, sweetie. Do you want your usual?”
“Yes, Joshua. But you’d better make it a small. I’ve already had a lot of coffee at home.”
“Got it,” he says and starts brewing. “You’re looking very beautiful today, Isabella.”
“Oh, thanks. I just kind of threw this outfit together.”
“It looks good on you.”
“Well, I’ve put on a few pounds lately,” she says, adjusting her skirt.
“You look great the way you are. I like your curves.”
“Thanks,” she says, feeling a little embarrassed.
He continues, “I like that you’ve finally let your hair down. You usually have it tied up in that bun, like you’re ashamed of it or something.”
“Always the charmer. Aren’t you, Joshua?”
“Oh, Isabella,” he complains. “You are breaking my heart. When are you finally going to say that you’ll go out with me?”
“Joshua, you know I’m about ten years older than you are. I’m thirty-five, for heaven’s sake. We have nothing in common.”
“Let me take you out. Anywhere you want. You name it. Where could we go on a fun date together?”
I’m dying to go to that mystery dinner theater; but I couldn’t use him like that. Or could I? Hmm…
There is a man standing in line in back of her waiting to place his coffee order who says, “Would you two hurry it up? There’s a whole line of people waiting back here, you know.”
Isabella turns around and says, “Oh. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
The man tells her, “Just tell him you’ll to go out with him, already; and stop dancing around.”
How embarrassing. She tells Joshua, “Okay. Yes. Let’s go out.”
The man in back of her says, “Finally.”
Joshua says, “Awesome!! You won’t regret it!! I promise!!”
Feeling really self-conscious, Isabella grabs her Latte and heads out towards the library, ready to begin her work week, and hoping her thigh-highs don’t fall down to her ankles as Joshua watches her walking away.
Chapter Two
There is a line of people in front of the library, waiting until the doors open at 9:00. Isabella walks up toward the entrance and can see her coworker, Nicole, unlocking the front door, letting everyone inside. The crowd surges forward trying to get first dibs on the computers. Isabella practically gets knocked down in their mad rush.
“Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth,” her best friend, Nicole, tells her. The guys at the library refer to Nicole as “the smokin’ hot one” and she is wearing a short leather skirt that the guys will definitely be noticing. She is a twenty-five year old daughter of a Korean couple who immigrated to the United States in the 1950’s. Isabella joins her at the reference desk and sets down her purse. The two friends watch as the homeless people start coming inside, making themselves at home, and ready to camp out there until the library closes at 10:00 PM.
Isabella whispers to her friend, “Don’t libraries have any ‘regular people’ coming in anymore?” The two librarians w
ould love it if a patron came up and asked them if they have any books on Renaissance painters or global warming. You know, the good old-fashioned reference questions, like the ones “Merriam the Librarian” was asked in “It’s A Wonderful Life.” Instead, the comments they usually get are, “The copier ate my quarter. I want my money back.” Or “That homeless guy stinks. Kick him out of here!”
The two librarians begin catching up on their email.
Isabella tells her friend about the mystery dinner theatre article she read in the paper. “Wouldn’t it be fun to go? I read that it’s supposed to take place in the early 1960’s on the French Riviera. Somebody gets murdered in the show, and the audience has to try to figure out whodunit.”
Nicole, ever the fashionista, says, “We could buy some long black gloves like Audrey Hepburn wore in ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ and wear them with a little black dress.”
Isabella says, “I can see you in that little black dress for sure. You’d look so cute in it. You could get your hair done in an updo and wear a tiara, like Audrey did.”
Her friend is really getting interested, now that clothes are being discussed. She tells Isabella, “You could go for the ‘Mad Men’ look. You’d be a perfect Joan.”
“You mean because of my big butt?”
“That’s not the only thing that big about Joan’s body. Or yours.”
“Well, I think I could have some fun with trying to look like the women in ‘Mad Men’. Hmm…”
Nicole says, “Oh…let’s do it. Let’s go!” She starts Googling “Mad Men clothing” and sees that Banana Republic has a whole line of clothes inspired by the TV show. They waste a good part of their first hour of work looking at clothes on the Internet, before their boss walks in. When they see her, they start checking in books that were left overnight in the book drop.
“Good morning ladies,” their boss tells them as she walks by on her way to her office, as they continue looking industrious.
“Well, the party’s over,” Isabella tells her friend. When she looks up from her computer, she notices that a lot more people have come inside the library. It’s supposed to be a hot day, so these folks are probably just looking for a place to cool off.
A middle-aged lady who looks very angry approaches the reference desk. She storms up to Isabella and says, “There’s a man at the computers who’s looking at pornography!!”
Isabella secretly groans. Men can be such scumbags. She stands up and follows the lady over to “the culprit”. Isabella can’t see the computer screen from the vantage point where she’s walking, but takes the lady’s word for it. She whispers to the offender, “If you don’t stop looking at pornography, you are going to have to leave.”
He answers, “I’m not look at pornography!”
She puts her finger to her lip and shushes him. “Keep your voice down,” she whispers. “We’ve been getting complaints about you.”
“Who said?”
“It doesn’t matter. You are upsetting other patrons.” She points to a sign on the wall which tells the rules for using the library’s internet.
Getting very defensive, he says, “I was looking up information on breast cancer. My wife has it. That’s the only reason I was looking at breasts.”
Oh, boy. That’s a good one. She tells him, “I’m going to trust you right now to know the difference between what a legitimate website is and what’s not. But if I get any more complaints, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
She tries to trust him but can’t help noticing that he’s spending a lot of time looking at her breasts. She walks away, feeling like she needs to wash her hands or something. She sits back down at the reference desk and tells Nicole, “The next one’s yours.”
Fifteen minutes later, a very angry man approaches them with an empty coffee pot.
“Hello, Bill,” Nicole says to the library’s cataloger.
He says, “Why wasn’t any coffee made?! There are all sorts of us here this morning who are in the coffee club, and the first one to arrive is supposed to make coffee for everyone else.”
“Don’t look at me,” Isabella says. “I bought my coffee off the cart in front of the courthouse.”
“Well, you still should have made coffee for everyone else when you got here.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
Nicole tries to butter him up and says, “Bill, give me the coffee pot. I’ll go make you some coffee.”
He is putty in her hands and says, “Well, it won’t be just for me, you know. It’ll be for everybody, too.”
“That’s right,” Nicole says, and winks at Isabella as she goes off to the staff lounge to make coffee.
When she returns, Isabella says, “Is the little boy happy now?”
“He is really grumpy today.”
“Who designated him ‘the coffee Nazi’?”
They both start laughing. One of the library patrons comes up to them and says, “The toilets are overflowing and there’s water all over the floor.”
“Good grief,” Isabella says. “What a day!” She follows the lady into the bathroom, sees that it is indeed a plumbing emergency. She puts some paper towels on the floor, writes a sign saying, “Restroom Closed”, and calls the city facilities’ guys to request that a plumber be sent there as soon as possible.
She walks to her boss’s office and reports what happened.
Her boss asks her, “Did you put up the hazard sign? Did you use a mop?”
“No. I didn’t use the mop, just paper towels.”
“We have two mops in the janitor’s closet. Ask Bill to help you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she tells her boss.
He isn’t going to like this, she says under her breath and goes off to find him.
After much grumbling, he follows her to the restroom and they spend the next half hour mopping the floor until the plumber finally arrives to fix the leak.
When Isabella returns to the Reference Desk, she tells Nicole, “I hope the rest of the day isn’t going to be like this.” She bends down to grab her purse on the floor and searches for her cell phone.
Nicole notices that her friend’s skirt is torn and says, “Oh, no!!”
“What? What now?”
“You’ve ripped your skirt.”
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Lovely. Where did it rip?”
“At the zipper.”
“Great! Just great.”
Nicole consoles her, saying, “What a day!! Let’s go out to lunch at Original Mike’s. We haven’t been there for a long time. It’ll be my treat.”
“Sounds good! Isabella says. “I could really use a margarita right about now.”
Chapter Three
The building now known as Original Mike’s was built in 1919. Real estate developer, Mike Harrah, bought and restored it after it had been vacant for several years. He collects antique cars, so there are some in the restaurant. The bar has saddles for bar stools. It’s very funky. It has an outdoor patio called “Palm Court Oasis” and that’s where Isabella and Nicole like to sit.
Isabella orders her favorite, beef taquitos. While they are waiting for their food, they take some selfies. The restaurant has a lot of funny props. Nicole finds a “moonshine jug” and makes believe she’s guzzling down some hooch while her friend takes a picture. Isabella goes inside a replica of a British telephone booth and Nicole takes a picture of her. When the waitress comes back with their drink orders, she says, “Do you want me to take a picture of both of you?”
“Sure,” Nicole says. “That’d be awesome.”
They say “cheese” and their waitress snaps a picture which Nicole immediately uploads to Facebook.
Isabella, the older and wiser of the two, says, “I hope people at work don’t see what we’re doing right now. We could get into some trouble.”
“Don’t be so paranoid, Isabella. There’s no law that says we can’t have a margarita at lunch, you kn
ow.”
“Okay. You’re right. I need to lighten up a little.”
“That’s the spirit,” her friend says, and they clink together their margarita glasses.
“Yummy,” Nicole says, after she takes a sip. “So what’s new with you?”
“Well, believe it or not, I’m thinking about going out with that coffee cart guy. You know, surfer boy.”
“You’re kidding? You’ve been dodging him all year.”
“I know and he hasn’t given up. He must be a glutton for punishment, or something.”
“Isn’t he a little young for you?”
“Yes, and thank you very much for reminding me how old I am.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. It’s just that he isn’t your type. You’re usually dating a higher echelon of people.”
“Higher echelon? Listen to you. Little Ms. Snob.”
Nicole laughs at herself. “You know what I mean. That last guy you dated was a lawyer, after all.”
Isabella remonstrates, “And look how well that all turned out.”
“Okay. Bad example.”
The waitress comes over and sets down their food.
Isabella dips a taquito into guacamole and sour cream and says, “So, Nicole, do you want to go on a double date to the mystery theater?”
“Don’t you want to go by yourselves, just the two of you?”
“No. What if it doesn’t work out? I need you as my foil.”
“I don’t know about this, Isabella.”
“Why not? I can ask him to bring a friend. You’re about the same age as he is.”
“Oh, no. Not another one of your hook-ups. The last blind date you got for me started stalking me, sending me poetry, and telling me I was the love of his life. And we only went out once. I practically had to get a restraining order to get rid of him.”
“I know. Sorry. That was a disaster. I thought you might’ve liked the artistic/creative type guys.”
“Not when they become obsessed with me.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re ‘smokin’ hot,” she reminds her friend.
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