Smothered in Onions

by Tracey Quinn

  “Her bed was on fire?” I asked. “I thought Chief Baxter threatened her with a fine if it happened again.”

  “Nope, not the bed,” said Mark. “She made sure that wouldn't happen again. This time I found her in the dining room where she had tied herself to a chair with the belt from her robe and what appeared to be either a weather balloon or an enormous bra.. Apparently she didn't want to fall off the chair. There were two empty 40 ounce bottles lying on the dining room table along with the remnants of some burning copies of Playgirl. It appears that Edna has a sensual side.”

  “They still print that magazine?”

  “No clue. You'll have to research that yourself. Anyhow, the fire was pretty intense and it was impossible to untie the knots with my gloves on so I had to pick up Edna, chair and all, and head for the door as fast as I could.”

  “Don't tell me you had to go back for her cats again this time,” I said.

  “Oh, no, Edna doesn't have the cats anymore. When I picked her up she pulled my oxygen mask down because she was afraid I wouldn't hear her. She wanted to tell me that she had a dog that needed rescued. The dog, however, didn't need to be rescued because it was having intimate relations with my left boot all the while I was carrying Edna to the ambulance.”

  I really, really tried not to laugh.

  “You can laugh, but it wasn't so funny for the next door neighbor who was standing out in his front yard having a cigarette. The dog charged at him and the guy barely outran him to his front door,” said Mark.

  “So the dog is vicious?” I asked.

  “No, I think he just wanted the cigarette.”

  Chapter 2

  East Spoon Creek City, population 1200, whose town motto is You've Got To Live Somewhere, was founded by two men who, well, had to live somewhere. Back in the early 1800's a man named Samuel Brown stopped by a creek, decided it was a good place to make booze and sell it to passersby who were heading west. One of the travelers, Albert Sholes, was a peddler and he was tired of riding all over the countryside selling pots and pans. The two went into business together and opened up shops and the town grew up around them over time. The descendants of Brown and Sholes still live in town and have carried on their family traditions of feuding with each other and occasionally taking breaks from the feuding to cook up underhanded schemes together, which inevitably go wrong and lead to more feuding.

  My great-great grandfather Seamus O'Shea came to East Spoon Creek City not long after it was first founded, and opened a blacksmith shop. My grandparents are in their eighties now and still live on the farm where our ancestor's old shop stood. Grandpa O'Shea was in the Second World War and will gladly pull up his shirt and display his shrapnel wounds to anyone who will look. One of them is actually a scar from his gall bladder operation, but he says that it should count as a war wound since he probably got gall stones from the inedible food he had to eat while he was in the service.

  My parents lived in town too, but recently they bought an RV and have been driving around the country searching for the perfect spot for an affordable vacation home where the family can get together in the summer. So far nothing has worked out, but they're still looking.

  The morning after Lloyd Duval returned to town I got a text from Mom saying they're heading to Centralia, Pennsylvania because they were told that it's in some kind of record book, it has some unusual sights and the land prices are well below average. I've never heard of it but it sounds good. Pennsylvania has those beautiful mountains, not to mention Hershey Park and the outlet malls. What could go wrong?

  Mark came into the Breezy Spoon around noon. As he sat down in a booth, he said, “I hear that Roger Travers came in yesterday and offered you a job piloting a plane that looks like it's made out of cardboard and spit.”

  “He did that very thing,” I replied. “Apparently it's the same experimental model that a celebrity was flying when he went to meet his maker. He said it was hard to find a copy of it. I guess he just got lucky.”

  “Well, who knows, he might survive. By the way, neither of us has to work tomorrow night. Why don't I come down to your place and we can watch a movie? I'll bring soda and Cracker Jacks.”

  He almost had me there. Cracker Jacks were my favorite. They were also my gateway drug to those huge tins of popcorn that you get at Christmastime. The quaintly decorated tins have three flavors of popcorn separated by cardboard dividers. Butter flavored, cheesy, and the quintessence of all good things in life, caramel corn. The only problem was I never could figure out what to do with the empty tins. I mean, they're too good to just throw away and the charities won't take them. I've actually sneaked over to various thrift stores in the middle of the night and unloaded dozens of them in the back alley by their receiving door only to find them stacked on my front porch the next morning. Stupid security cameras.

  I thought about Mark's suggestion and I said, “That would be great, but I probably should go to Lloyd's lecture tomorrow night to see what the life coach is up to. The whole thing sounds suspicious to me. Of course, that means I'll have to chance walking in the dark, all alone by myself on these mean streets without a companion.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” he said. “You'd better stay home and watch a movie with me instead. I'll even let you make out with me, cuddle and talk about feelings.”

  My brother Bob had just walked in and made his way through the lunch crowd to the booth where we were sitting.

  “Dani's scowling,” he said. “Do you need a personal protective order?”

  “Not yet,” Mark replied. “Apparently she wants to cuddle and talk about feelings but you know how shy I am about displays of affection.”

  “I do know that about you,” said Bob. “How many times in the past has she been emotionally aggressive with you and I've seen you clutching your pearls with one hand and pressing the back of your other wrist against your forehead? It's a downright pitiful sight to behold.”

  “Well, you know I've led a very sheltered life, yes I have.”

  “I'm aware of that,” Bob replied. “Those tours of duty you did in the Middle East left you unprepared for people like Dani. What's the situation here? Will she allow you to have any food?”

  “You mean like today's special which, according to the menu board, seems to be chopped sirloin burgers with red onion jam, fresh corn on the cob with adobe butter, garlic french fries, and cappuccino cupcakes with buttercream frosting?”

  “Possibly, only I'll want extra dill pickles,” Bob said, sliding into the booth. “By the way, how did those tests go yesterday?”

  “Everything was fine,” Mark replied. “It's just a precautionary thing that they're required to do with smoke inhalation.”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I interrupted. “Do you mean you went to the hospital again and didn't tell me about it?”

  “It was no big deal,” Mark shrugged. “Besides, it wouldn't have been any use telling you; you're banned from the hospital.”

  “You always say that! No one can be banned from a hospital!” I turned to my brother. “And why didn't you call me?”

  “What he said,” Bob replied.

  “Once and for all I am not banned from the hospital! That incident a few months ago when you were in that accident and I was trying to find out if you were all right, I may possibly have lost my composure a bit---”

  “I think one of the interns that you knocked down may have broken his nose. The screaming frightened a pregnant woman so much that she went into labor,” said Mark.

  “Oh, you are so full of it,” I said. “What if I had to go to the hospital for treatment? They couldn't ban me.”

  “I think they were talking about that and I heard the term 'medically induced coma',” Mark said.

  Fortunately for both of them their lunch was ready and a double homicide was prevented.

  I went back to the kitchen and began chopping vegetables for the dinner menu, still a bit miffed about the hospital.

  “Hey, go easy on that celery,” Br
endan said. “I think it's about to turn into celery water.”

  “And yet two lives may have been saved,” I replied. “By the way, are you going to go to Lloyd's lecture to see what this life coaching thing is all about?”

  “Not on a dare. Besides, it's not just a lecture, it's a whole series of lectures. He brought the brochures in today. Apparently the name of his company is Courage.”

  “Just 'Courage'? I asked.

  “Yep. That seems to be the main theme of his life coaching thing. It says here that by using his simple techniques you can ignite the repository of courage that you already have in your brain and reap miraculous benefits, such as improving your love life and increasing your income. He'll be giving two Courage lectures per day, six days a week. One is at noon and the other at eight PM. Question and answer sessions after each lecture. Coaching on a one-to-one basis available by appointment only. Admission $10 per person.”

  “Where's he going to give these Courage lectures? He said he signed a lease on a building, but he didn't say where it was.”

  “It's the building next to the bank. You know, the one that used to be the rec center.”

  Ah, the rec center, better known as the Wreck Center. Several years ago Mayor Pumphrey thought he would help his re-election campaign by starting a recreation center for wayward teens. The idea was to prevent vandalism, graffiti and worse by providing a place for young people to go after school and amuse themselves. The building had previously been a print shop until the owner passed on, and his heirs couldn't find anyone to it. After a couple years of trying they just abandoned it and left it to the city rather than pay the property taxes.

  The mayor didn't bother to refurbish the building, he just slapped up an “East Spoon Creek Recreation Center” sign and opened the doors so it would be ready in time for the election. There was no one in charge, and a lot of the printing equipment was left in the back; the door was just left unlocked and anyone could go in and do anything they wanted. Apparently what they wanted to do was print obscene signs and nail them to telephone poles all over town. There was also a lot of drinking and fighting, and it's rumored that more than one toddler in town is a “rec center baby”. The building shares a common wall with the Farnsworth National Bank and Trust and when some of the teens' activities started spilling over into the bank lobby, the sheriff shut down the rec center. Mayor Pumphrey still won the election. He had been running unopposed anyhow.

  “That's a fairly big building,” I said. “I wonder how many he can seat in there.”

  “One hundred and twenty according to Cooter James. He and his cousin Jake spent two days cleaning and painting the place and setting up the chairs. If he fills all 120 seats and charges $10 each he'll be making $1200 per night. A rather nice haul for our favorite ex-con.”

  “Well, at least it's nice to see poor Cooter making some money for a change. It must have cost Lloyd a bundle to get all that done,” I said.

  “Oh, you know how things are with Cooter,” Brendan. “He's all excited about being a part of Lloyd's extravaganza and he agreed to do all that for two free tickets to the lecture for himself and Jake.”

  “All that work for some free tickets? I can't believe ---”

  “Dani, Dani,” said Brendan. “Learn to accept what you can't change. I think I saw that on a tee shirt once. You can gain a lot of wisdom from reading tee shirts.”

  Cooter James is a very nice young man who does odd jobs around town, some very odd, but he's also kind of a goofball and never seems to stay out of trouble for long. He doesn't mean to cause any harm, but cause it he does, unfortunately for anyone who has ever hired him. Unfortunately for himself, he's as gullible as he is accident-prone and bad deals like the one he made with Lloyd are the only kind of deals he seems to do.

  I decided not to go to Lloyd's lecture after all. Yes, I was still suspicious of him, but not $10 worth of suspicious.

  Chapter 3

  A couple of days later when I unlocked the front door of the Breezy Spoon at six AM to open for the day, Cooter James and his cousin Jake were the first ones to come inside.

  “Good courage to you, Miss O'Shea,” said Cooter.

  “Yeah, good courage to you,” said his cousin Jake. “I hope you have a courage day.”

  They stood blocking the doorway doing high fives while customers were trying to get into the diner for breakfast. I had the feeling that this courage thing was going to get old fast. The back of my hand and the toe of my boot to you, Lloyd Duval.

  “Why don't I show you to a booth? I'll take your order,” I said as I tried to herd them out of the way.

  “Oh, no,” said Cooter. “Your Grandma O'Shea is fixin' breakfast for us today. After I cut the grass, your Granddad wants us to move some stuff out of the attic so we're startin' out early.”

  “Your Grandma always fixes us fatback, boiled buckwheat groats and stewed rhubarb, all we can eat,” said Jake. “We can't get that kinda food here at the diner-- no offense meant, ma'am.”

  “No offense taken,” I said, trying not to gag. I had eaten at Grandma's before.

  Then I noticed their hair. Both Cooter and Jake had flat-top hair cuts. I had only seen that hair style in old movies. I guess you could say it was flattering to some guys, but Cooter and Jake weren't those guys.

  “Did you two get new hair cuts?” I asked.

  “We sure did,” said Cooter. “Harry Morrison is still workin' at Jolene's beauty saloon, but he's doin' men's haircuts on the side now, too. He just started so he said he only knows one way of cuttin' men's hair. He said it's the latest style that men in the big cities are all wearin'. He even offered us a discount, on account of Jolene bein' my girlfriend, and since he didn't have no customers yet.”

  I wasn't surprised that Harry didn't have any customers. I had my hair styled by Harry once (or “Monsieur Rene” as he calls himself when he works in the beauty salon) and I didn't think I'd ever get it back to normal afterwards. “Does Jolene like it?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Cooter. “When she seen it she didn't say nothin', she was that surprised. I asked her to the movies so her friends could see her with me and my new haircut but she has to clean out her closet tonight. Anyhow Jake and me just stopped by to give you the paper because Miss Farnsworth done wrote somethin' nice about you and we thought you'd like to see it.” Cooter handed me a copy of the East Spoon Creek City Gazette. “It looks like the government is goin' to protect you so you can solve more crimes.”

  I looked at Millie Farnsworth' column.

  Town Notes by Amelia: A breakthrough has been made in the ongoing investigation into the disturbing activities of one Danielle Gwendolyn O'Shea.

  First it must be explained that this reporter quite by chance has recently made the acquaintance of one Spencer Richards, a noted international detective, whom she met on the Internet. Detective Richards is currently writing a book on fraudulent activity at Automated Teller Machines in Pumpkin City. Your humble reporter has been allowed to aid in this investigation by using a zoom lens to film people who are making use of ATM's. Mr. Richards is then able to record their PIN numbers to determine if they have been the victim of fraud.

  Last week as Spencer and I were enjoying a romantic walk along the beach I noticed that he was taking a picture of O'Shea, who has apparently never heard of a minimizer bra. When I asked him about it, he confided in me that O'Shea might well be the mastermind behind the ATM thefts. I asked him why he continued taking picture of O'Shea during a beach volleyball game and he explained that he was concerned about the fact that she seemed to be getting sunburned and as such was a danger to herself. Spencer Richards, a humanitarian as well as a lawman , informed me that he needed the pictures to report her to Adult Protective Services. A local fireman then accidentally knocked Spencer down, took his camera and inadvertently threw it into the lake. The fireman then escorted him to his car all the while holding Spencer's head protectively under his right arm.

  I recently received a cal
l from the Treasury Department insisting on an immediate interview with me which I suspect is in regard to O'Shea's suspicious activities. O'Shea (still unwed at age 34 years and 7 months), is frequently seen in the environs of a local diner where she does janitorial work. Caution is advised.

  Millie Farnsworth has never been an admirer of mine because I was the first one in our high school class to become engaged. Johnny Winston, who is now the principal of East Spoon Creek City High School, won a ring at the County Fair when we were both seniors in high school. It was a pretty ring and it looked like a diamond solitaire engagement ring, instead of the $12 cubic zirconium which it was. He didn't know what to do with it so he gave it to me. We sat next to each other in history class and spent time passing notes back and forth with insulting comments about the teacher. To this day I still can't name the thirteen original colonies but since they're still around, I don't suppose it matters.

  A few weeks later when I saw the movie Showboat, I fell in love with Howard Keel and broke up with Johnny. He immediately gave the ring to Millie. Johnny was the first of Millie's three husbands. Their marriage lasted about three weeks and her next two not much longer. I really liked that engagement ring, but I didn't want to have to get married to keep it. I mean I was only 17 years old after all.

  However, that began my love affair with rings. I wasn't interested in expensive rings even if I could have afforded them; I loved the cheap rings in the costume jewelry department at the big box store. They were flashy, they were showy and when I had a ring on every finger I felt it was worth every cent of my tip money.

  And then I discovered toe rings. When I would walk down the beach with my toe rings and ankle bracelet, The Girl From Ipanema playing in my headphones, shaking the booty as I swaggered past the lifeguard stand, I felt I should warn the general public that it would be dangerous to touch me; I was that hot. I embarrassed my brother Bob who told me that I looked like a The Girl From Ipanema's Mental Ward. In response I suggested that he do something to himself that is anatomically impossible. Later on I learned that the lifeguard was only looking at me because he thought that from the way I was walking I might be drunk.