Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

“Wait a minute,” Mark cut in, “They left the safe house to go out to eat and go bar hopping?! No wonder everyone knew their names! What's the point of a safe house if they don't stay in it?”

  “ Russell and Tiffany had gotten all lovey-dovey and they were treating the whole situation like a romantic vacation; well, as romantic as you can get in East Spoon Creek City, so they didn't spend a lot of time at the safe house.”

  “So which one of them ended up getting shot?” Mark asked.

  “Neither one, actually,” I explained. “The two other bank robbers came down here and watched the house until some time in the middle of the night they saw Russell's car leave, and then they stormed the place with guns blazing. They had heard that the police had only recovered part of the money from the robbery, and they figured to threaten Tiffany to make her tell them where the rest was before they killed her. When they broke into the house they couldn't find her, so they figured there must be a secret room and they started firing shots through the walls at random to scare her out of her hiding place. However, since Tiffany's hiding place was the back of Russell's car and Russell's car was headed for the Mexican border with the rest of the money from the robbery, they were out of luck. It seems that while Chuck was double-crossing the others, Tiffany was double-crossing him, and she had secreted a lot of the money away before the bag made it into the bus station locker, and had put it in a second locker. End of story.”

  “Amazing!” Mark exclaimed. “Do you know how much money they had stolen?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “Since my brother Bob is the Deputy Sheriff he told me that he had heard that the amount was about $50,000. Supposedly no one knew that Tiffany had it, But I've got a feeling that Russell knew.”

  “Well, that explains the bullet holes in the walls that I had to Spackle over,” he said. “I assume the two guys that shot up the house were arrested?”

  “Oh, yes,” I answered. “The Jameson sisters watched the place like hawks, since it was such a great source of juicy gossip, and they called the police as soon as they saw two strange men forcing their way into the house. And since the robbers stuck around looking for the money besides taking time to shoot up the place, there wasn't much chance that they'd get away.”

  “That's unbelievable!” Mark said. “Well, I can understand if you're not interested, then.”

  “Interested in what?” I asked.

  “Interested in renting the first floor apartment in the safe house. It's four rooms, all furnished,” he responded. “I mean, you could have the second floor apartment but I've already moved my stuff in and ---”

  “If you're asking me if I want to rent an apartment from you, the answer is yes, how soon can I move in?” I asked. “One more day of renting a room from Mrs. Hamsky while she tries to pair me up with her son Ham-Ham will about do me in.”

  “Do you want to know how much the rent is, and do I want to know who Ham-Ham is?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, and Hamilton Hamsky. He's a lawyer whose wife ran off with her boss about five months ago,” I said. “Ever since I came back from the military I've been renting a room from his mother, and she's been trying to pair me up with him. She calls him Ham-Ham, which of course, he hates. He's really a nice enough guy but he still loves his wife and I think if she showed up at his door he'd take her back in a heartbeat. Anyway, almost every day when Mrs. Hamsky is rifling through my belongings; she leaves little notes on my bedside table letting me know that Ham-Ham will be available to go with me to the movies, or to a play or whatever she can think of.”

  Charlene, who was listening in, as usual, said, “And some of Miss O'Shea's underpants have gone missing and she says that her creep-itude detector has gone through the roof. Ham-Ham doesn't live there but he visits, so the question is whether it's Ham-Ham or Mrs. Hamsky, and Miss O”Shea says ---”

  “Miss O'Shea also says that the customers in those two booths over there might want you to take their order if you're finished eavesdropping,” I suggested.

  “Oh, sure, Miss O'Shea,” she said. “You can tell me all about it later.”

  Mark seemed amused. “About those underpants ---” he started.

  “About the rent,” I asked, “how much, and are utilities included, and when can I move in?”

  “Well, the mortgage is $1000 a month so $500 a month sounds good. The apartments have separate utilities, so we each pay our own,” he replied. “And you can move in whenever you want.”

  “Great, I agree to all of the above,” I said, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “It's 1:35 now and I get off at two. Is that too soon to move in?”

  “Seriously? Don't you want to look at it first?” he asked.

  “Not necessary,” I said. “Bob went on the tour. I still have the video he sent me.”

  “Of course! Silly of me not to have thought of that!” he said, shaking his head. “So you really want to move in this afternoon?”

  “Sure, if that's okay,” I replied. “I can write you a check as soon as you let go of my hand.”

  “Oh, sorry! Well, this is great. I'm off work now and my truck's outside if you want me to help you move your stuff today.”

  “Not necessary,” I replied. “I'll buy some bedding from Letty at the dry goods store, grab my overnight bag and get the rest of my stuff tomorrow. Just think, I'll be able to sleep tonight without keeping my Glock under the pillow!”

  “Good, I don't need more bullet holes in the wall.”

  “It's a deal, then.”

  “I suppose I should ask though, aren't you concerned that there might be gossip about two single people living in the same house together?” he asked. “Your brother thought it would be okay.”

  “The heartbeat of East Spoon Creek City is gossip,” I replied with a shrug. “You just saw Millie's column. You don't have to do anything around here for someone to gossip.”

  Jimmy Taylor, Charlene's 16 year old boyfriend and my busboy, was just passing the booth. “Besides you don't look like Howard Keel,” he said. “Everyone knows that Miss O'Shea isn't interested in anyone who doesn't look like Howard Keel, and you don't. No offense intended, sir.”

  “None taken,” Mark replied, grinning. “I get that a lot. Perfect strangers coming right up to me and saying, 'What the hell, man, you don't look anything like Howard Keel.' Doesn't bother me at all any more.”

  “No stuff!” said Jimmy. “I guess you can't take it personal.”

  “Damn straight,” said Mark. “I'm used to it by now.”

  “Jimmy,” I said, “I don't think that ---”

  “Of course, the last two guys she was engaged to when she was in the Army did look like Howard Keel but the one cheated on her with an Army nurse and she said the other one just wanted a green card,” Jimmy continued, “but since you were in the Army, too, you probably already heard all about that.”

  “Absolutely,” Mark replied. “ We share information with each other in the Army. Band of Brothers, that kind of thing.”

  “I figured as much,” said Jimmy. “I'm fixing to join myself.”

  “Jimmy, there are dirty dishes on tables right now and I wonder if you could figure out something to do about that,” I said.

  “Oh, sure, Miss O'Shea,” he answered as he turned to go.“I'm on it.”

  I turned to look at Mark. “'Band of Brothers'? 'We all share information'? What was that?”

  “Well, from the look on your face I got the impression that you didn't want him to rattle on,” he replied. “Usually people are satisfied if you agree with whatever they say and they move on. Problem solved. Now there's just one more thing I'd like to discuss with you.”

  “Yes, I'll bet there is. You're wondering if I'm a total nut case and if it's safe for you to rent part of your house to a crazy woman, am I right?”

  “No, I just wondered if it's too late to get the lunch special,” he replied.

  “The lunch special?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that roast beef sub with a side of au j
us gravy to dip it in sounds good, ” he said. “I know it's almost two so is it too late?”

  “No, no, of course not,” I hesitated. “Uh, you still want to rent to me?”

  “Well, not till after lunch,” he said. “but after that, why not?”

  “Oh, sure,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “The sub comes with hand-cut steak fries, and your choice of garden salad, three-cheese bacon mac and cheese, or barbecued baked beans.”

  “I'll go for the bacon mac and cheese. I had salad for breakfast,” he said.

  “A salad for breakfast?” I asked.

  “Well, it was a couple of BLT's but that's all a bunch of salad stuff between two slices of bread, so it's the same thing,” he replied. “Hey, how about some of that pie over there that looks like it's chocolate with the whipped cream on top?”

  “All right,” I said. “I'll put the order in right away and I'll bring you the rent check. Lunch is on the house because I'm celebrating my new digs.”

  “Thanks a lot. And I'll help move the rest of your stuff from Mrs. Hamsky's tomorrow.”

  “Deal,” I said. I was walking on air as I went back to the counter. No more Mrs. Hamsky and Ham-Ham, a real apartment not just a room, and a landlord who seemed laid back and presumably easy to get along with as well as, I may have mentioned, a total hunk.

  Chapter 2

  East Spoon Creek City was founded in the 1840's by Samuel Oliver Brown more or less by accident. Sammy Brown was heading west on an old trail when he stopped to rest overnight next to a creek. The country there was hilly and warm with lots of vegetation and he decided to camp out there for a while before traveling on. Sammy was a man who liked his booze and he had packed his saddlebags with as much as he could cram in there. One night a stranger came up to camp there overnight and Sammy felt obligated to offer him a drink. The guy accepted but insisted on paying him for it. Sammy took it gladly and that gave him an idea.

  You see, he wasn't too keen on traveling any further on horseback if he could help it, and after surveying the area he saw a lot of interesting things growing all around him. Some things he recognized, such as skunk cabbage, wild onions, and dandelions and some stuff he didn't, but he knew that most plants will turn into alcohol if left sitting in water long enough. Would it be the kind of alcohol that would be safe to drink? Who knew, but since his buyers would be traveling on before they drank it, who cared? His plan was to give them a free drink from his store of real whiskey and then sell them as many bottles of his home made hootch as he could. But where would he get the bottles? That was a problem solved by the arrival of Albert Steven Sholes.

  Al Sholes was a peddler who traveled from town to town selling anything from needles and pins to wash tubs and shovels. He also sold bottles. When he saw Sammy's encampment by the creek, he stopped to see if he could sell him anything. Sammy bought as many bottles as Sholes had and Sholes asked him what he was going to use them for. Ordinarily he sold bottles and jars to women for canning, and he doubted that Sammy was going to can anything. Sammy explained his plan and Sholes immediately smelled an opportunity for himself; he and Sammy would go into business together.

  The idea was that they would each build themselves a shack next to the other at the side of the trail. Sammy would sell his moonshine to the men who were passing by and Sholes could sell the household items he had been peddling to the women. This worked pretty well for a while, but they weren't getting as much business as they had hoped.

  So they came up with a plan. Once in the spring, the rains had made the creek overflow and cover a portion of the trail. People traveling West hung around by their little outpost for a few days until the trail dried out enough for their horses and wagons to get through, buying from the shops all the while. So when they saw this, Sammy and Sholes worked for days on end cutting down trees and brush, and built themselves a dam. When business was slow, they would damn up the creek to overflow the trail for a while and get more money from their captive travelers.

  One day as they prepared for another day of selling, Sammy noticed a tree branch that was about three feet long and had a hollow at the end of it that looked like the bowl of a spoon. He thought it was funny and he showed it to Sholes. Sholes said maybe they ought to call the creek Spoon Creek, and the name stuck.

  The city eventually grew up around the outpost because of the occasional damming of Spoon Creek. The first residents were a farmer had been heading West with his wife and five sons, and had spent a few days stuck in the mud. He saw a couple dozen other travelers camping out by the side of the trail sleeping in their wagons or just at the side of the trail. Traveling West had been hard and the farmer had just about had enough of it, so he and his family set up a large cabin not far from the creek and opened a bed-and-breakfast. The beds were just wooden cots and the breakfast consisted of biscuits and gravy, porridge, slab bacon and coffee, but for an extra fee a person could get a warm bath in a wash tub, homemade soap and burlap towel included. Soon the flooded creek was bringing them good business, too.

  It wasn't long before other travelers were stopping and staying, some farming and growing fresh vegetables and fruit to sell to travelers, and others finding that cotton grew well in the area. An herbalist stayed on, building his own version of a pharmacy, and a doctor set up a practice right next door. And so Spoon Creek City began. (The “East” part was added years later when Sammy Jr. and Al Sholes II broke ground on a “West Spoon Creek City” on the opposite side of the creek over some dispute with the town fathers of Spoon Creek City, which no one knows anything about now. Whatever their differences were, they were patched up before anything was built on the other side, but after that the town was known as East Spoon Creek City.)

  Not long after the town was established, my great-grandfather Seamus O'Shea moved in with his wife Bridget and their three children and set up a blacksmith shop at the edge of town. My grandfather was a blacksmith, too, but my father broke the tradition and became a school teacher, eventually rising all the way to principal of the high school before he retired a few years back.

  As I lay in my new queen sized bed in my new apartment I was thanking great-grand-dad for moving here. I hadn't been so thankful when I first moved back and had to deal with Mrs. Hamsky and her nocturnal visits, but Mark had put a lot of work into fixing up the new apartment and it was nicer than I had expected. The neighborhood was quiet, too, and although Mark had a key to my door, he had shown no Hamsky tendencies and I felt sure he wasn't the creepy type. He had given me a key to his apartment in case of emergency, as well. He worked 24 hour shifts at the fire station every other day so it made sense.

  I had slept well, at least I had until my cell phone rang. I looked at the time and it was 5:36 am.

  It was Charlene.

  “What's wrong, Charlene?” I mumbled.

  “Oh, Miss O'Shea,” she whispered. “Jimmy was getting the diner set up to open and he heard shots from behind the diner and he waited till they stopped and he went outside and looked in the dumpster and he saw it and if he could see it anyone could so he didn't want to call the police until we warned you and gave you a chance to get away!”

  I was seriously tempted to hang up and put my head under the pillow in case she called back, but of course, I couldn't.

  “Calm down, Charlene,” I said. “I don't understand what you're saying.”

  “It's Mark, Mr. Adams, I mean,” Charlene said, still whispering. “Jimmy found his body in the dumpster all wrapped up in bubble wrap! It looked like there was a chocolate pie smashed into his face!Mr. Adams likes chocolate pie because he had some for lunch, so Jimmy knew it was him and wanted to give you a chance to escape.” She was sniffling now making it even harder to make out what she was saying. “I mean, we care about you, I mean we really love you, and we understand how these things happen. Things don't always work out right when you move in together with someone, and he may have that Syndrome that sometimes people get if they've seen bad war things and ---”

&
nbsp; “Are you saying that Jimmy saw Mark Adams body in the dumpster behind the diner?” I asked in amazement. “How can that be? I just saw him a few hours ago!”

  ”Don't admit that to anyone, Miss O'Shea,” she said. “Jimmy said a woman isn't responsible if a man tries to go too far.”

  “Look, this is insane,” I said. “If Jimmy actually saw a body in the dumpster why didn't he call the police?”

  “Jimmy thought we should warn you first and give you a chance to get out of town,” she replied. “Jimmy said it's like in the Lynyrd Skynyrd song 'Gimme Three Steps Towards The Door'.”

  “I don't need three steps, Charlene! I didn't shoot Mark! I'll call the Sheriff, but Jimmy will have to talk to him.”

  “No, no, please don't do this to yourself, Miss O'Shea!” she cried. “I'll get Jimmy to hide Mark's body in the woods and you can get a head start for the border!”

  “Charlene, listen to me,” I said. “Don't let Jimmy go anywhere near the body. It's not Mark. Look, I have a key to Mark's apartment. I'll sneak in and show you a picture from my phone that he's in his bed and the body isn't his. Then we have to call the Sheriff right away. Just stay on the phone.”

  “Okay,” Charlene answered, “but be sure you don't leave any fingerprints.”

  I got up and found the key. This was all kinds of crazy, but if I could just convince Charlene that Mark was alive and Jimmy shouldn't be contaminating a crime scene by moving a body I would have to do it. I mean, I could lie to them and say I was leaving town right away but that still wouldn't stop Jimmy from “helping” me get a head start by moving the body. If there was a body. But I couldn't take the chance that there wasn't.

  I went out my kitchen door and crept up the stairs to Mark's apartment as quietly as I could. With any luck he wouldn't wake up and think I was a prowler and shoot me as I tried to get close enough to the bed to take his picture.

  I opened the door which fortunately didn't squeak, then slowly tiptoed to toward the bed, leaving the door open behind me. Mark was lying there asleep. I quickly snapped a picture and sent it to Charlene.