Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  “What's that?”

  “Mr. Gator-skin-boots wasn't murdered.”

  “What?!!”

  “That's right,” Bob said. “The coroner said he died of a massive stroke; no injuries or signs of violence.”

  “There are ways of killing someone that don't leave injuries,” I countered. “Could he have been poisoned?”

  “Poison certainly played into it in a big way; alcohol poisoning, that is. He showed all the signs of long-term alcohol abuse, and he had a lot of it in his system. He was probably blind drunk when he died, but there's no sign of foul play.”

  “Getting wrapped in bubble wrap and tossed in a dumpster with a pie smashed in his face sounds like a sign of foul play to me!” I said. “Why would someone do that if they weren't responsible for his death?”

  “I've got no answers for that one,” Bob admitted. “I'll agree that it's pretty strange and there could still be a lot more to this than meets the eye, which is all the more reason you should stay out of it!”

  “I didn't realize I was talking to a broken record all this time. I'd listen to more of your warnings but I have lots of doily making and nose powdering and other girly things to do before the prom, so I'd better get to work.”

  Bob was still laughing when I hung up.

  Chapter 12

  Mark had picked up food for supper from the The Breezy Spoon. Linda had sent ham steaks, collard greens, and bacon mac and cheese along with garlic-cheddar biscuits, and Don had picked out a sweet potato pie and included a canister of whipped cream. When we had finished eating, Mark said, “Okay, what's up?”

  “What do you mean, 'What's up?'” I asked. “I didn't say anything.”

  “That's what I mean. You haven't said a word the whole time we've been eating, and unless I'm missing something exciting about that spot on the wall you've been staring at, there's something on your mind.”

  I told Mark what had happened on my trip to Pumpkin City and about my conversation with Bob.

  “That's pretty strange,” Mark said, stroking his chin. “Why go to the trouble of disposing of a body that you didn't kill? And why kill Rafe Duval to cover it up?”

  “I know; unless Rafe was killed by someone else, who tried to make it look like the same person was responsible for both deaths. Bildad was following me, too. It could be that the first body in the dumpster gave Sammy and Al a good way to get Rafe out of the way without throwing any suspicion on themselves. We need to find out more about whatever scheme they've got cooked up with those pills.”

  “Now look, you can't just walk into Al's Emporium and start nosing around,” Mark cautioned. “They're clearly onto you, and if they're really murderers, you'd just be putting yourself in danger.”

  “You're right,” I agreed. “You'll have to do it.”

  “Me?!”

  “Yes, we need to know what Sammy and Al are up to. All you have to do is go into Al's Emporium and shop. If he's selling painted pills it can't be too hard to find them.”

  “I realize this is an outlandish idea, but why don't you call Bob and have the police investigate this; you know, the people that are paid to investigate crimes?”

  “We don't have any evidence of a crime,” I pointed out. “The dumpsters will have been emptied by now, and Shua's not going to just tell the police all about the scheme. We need something to take to Bob before we tell him about this.”

  Mark sighed. “If I had known I was going to have to play Colombo with you every night, I'd have rented to someone else.”

  “Then it's a good thing for both of us that you didn't know. You'd better go now if you want to get to the Emporium before it closes.”

  An hour later, Mark was back with a bag from the Emporium and a bad mood. He took a small box out of the bag and tossed it onto the kitchen table.

  “There! If you want any more evidence from the Emporium, you'll have to find someone else!” he grumbled. “Do you know what I had to go through to get these?”

  I picked up the box and looked at the front. The label was a cut out from a xerox copy of a Viagra magazine ad that was pasted to the front of the box.

  “Seriously?” I opened the box and shook the contents out onto the table. Aspirin tablets soaked in blue paint. “How do they think they can get away with this?”

  “I expect they figure that when people find out they've been duped, they'll be too embarrassed to complain about it,” Mark said, “and as far as I'm concerned, they're right! The box was in a glass case behind the counter and I had to ask Al for it! He winked at me and said something about 'the little lady' being in for a surprise! The little lady should have had the police deal with this, and if she doesn't stop laughing there's going to be another murder!”

  “You don't own enough bubble wrap,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. “Now we've got the evidence that we need. The way I figure it, Sammy must have found some way to buy expired aspirin on the cheap. He and Al cooked up a scheme to paint them blue and sell them as discount Viagra and make a big profit.”

  “Do you think maybe they sold some to Rafe Duval?”

  “Ugh. Rafe Duval doing anything that requires Viagra is not a mental picture that I need so soon after eating. I suppose it's possible though, or maybe he saw Bildad painting the pills.”

  “And then it was curtains for old Rafe,” Mark said. “And they'll have the same plans for us if we're not careful. I'd better get to the dry goods store first thing tomorrow and buy some more Spackle to fill in the new bullet holes.”

  “Slow down; we don't have anything to connect Sammy and Al to Rafe's murder yet. Proving they're crooks isn't the same as proving they're murderers. We still don't know how Nancy Sheldon and Dr. Griffin figure into this, either.”

  “You think they're connected somehow? I know they say that murder makes strange bedfellows, but this would be beyond strange!”

  “From what I saw in Pumpkin City, Bildad and Dr. Griffin weren't working together at all,” I said. “If the police hadn't been there, Dr. Griffin might have ended up in a dumpster.”

  “Well, even if we can't link Sammy and Al to murder, they suspect that you know something about the pill scheme, and that still makes them dangerous,” Mark pointed out. “You'll still have to watch your back if you turn them in to the cops.”

  “Maybe not. Tom Jordan the pharmacist will be coming in to The Breezy Spoon with the needlework club, and I'll bet if I showed him these pills and asked for his 'professional opinion', he'd have some pretty strong professional opinions about them! That way the police would come down on Sammy and Al and they wouldn't know which of their customers had given Tom Jordan the pills.”

  “That's a good plan,” Mark mused, “but I'm still buying that Spackle.”

  The next afternoon I was in my office at The Breezy Spoon after my shift was over, changing into my dress from the prom. I had brought it with me this morning, and Mark was going to pick me up at the diner and we'd go straight to the school rather than try to rush home and change and then rush to the prom.

  When Mark arrived he looked like someone off the cover of Gentleman's Quarterly. It was all I could do not to stare. He was looking me over too, and said, “My gosh, Dani, you're gorgeous. We should play dress up more often.”

  “You're pretty gorgeous yourself,” I said, reaching for the boutonniere. “Let me put this on your lapel and we're all set.”

  “I'm glad you're wearing high-heeled shoes. It'll make it easier for you to nuzzle my neck.”

  “I'm not sure what that means, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen.”

  He held out a box. “I got you a wrist corsage because I didn't know if you wanted one to pin on your dress or not. Besides when we're cuddling on the dance floor it might get crushed and I might get stuck with the pin.”

  “Chaperons don't cuddle,” I said. “We're there to keep the teenagers from cuddling. Of course they can't exactly cuddle to Bill Haley and the Comets.”

  “True, but if someone managed to
sneak in some albums by, oh, I don't know, say Luther Vandross, Usher...”

  “Don't even think about it. The Principle would probably have that someone arrested.”

  “Unless, of course, that someone was a deputy sheriff.”

  “Dream on,” I said, “You two will never get by with it.”

  “Don't be so sure,” Mark grinned.

  Just then there was a knock at the door of the office. “That'll be Kitty,” I said. “I told her she could change in here after I'm finished. Bob's picking her up here.”

  I opened the door to see not Kitty but Linda, looking confused. “Dani, Nancy Sheldon and Dr. Griffin are here to see you,” she said. “I told them you were leaving soon, but they said they had to talk to you about calling off your goon squad.”

  “My what?”

  “This has to stop!” Dr. Griffin made his way into the office with Nancy in tow. Nancy's eyes were red and puffy and she was crying soundlessly. Dr. Griffin's glasses were missing a lens and the frame had been broken and taped together.

  “What's going on?” I asked.

  “Now look, whatever you may think, we haven't done anything wrong!” Dr. Griffin snapped. “Harassing Nancy outside the office is bad enough, but sending that thug to accost me in Pumpkin City is taking things too far!”

  “But I-”

  “Oh, don't hurt Bill!” Nancy squeaked. “This is all my fault!”

  “It's not your fault, Nancy!” Dr. Griffin said. “It's not anyone's fault- well, except for him.”

  Just then Bob walked in, dressed from the prom. “Hey guys, what's up?” he asked.

  “So, you called in the deputies already! I'm not surprised,” Dr. Griffin scowled at me. “Well, that's fine by me! My conscience is clear!”

  “Come on in, Bob,” Mark said. “Whatever this is is just getting started.”

  “Oh, Miss O'Shea, I didn't mean for any of this to happen!” Nancy cried.

  “Look, why don't we all calm down and have a seat and talk this out,” Bob cut in. “No one's going to hurt anyone.”

  “Linda, can you get Nancy something to drink; some tea, maybe?” I asked. I handed Nancy a box of tissues from my desk.

  “It's not what you think at all,” Dr. Griffin said as Linda left. “Nancy was only-”

  Nancy put a hand on his arm. “Let me tell it, Bill,” she said. “It's better that way. You see, as you know, my Gil died three years ago. Gil was an only child, but he had a cousin named Harry Sheldon who lived in Texas, and was always getting in trouble. Gil never had anything to do with him, and the last I had heard of him, he was in jail. But then last week Harry showed up at my door and said he was here to stake his claim to my house. He said that his father had been disinherited by their grand-parents and that's why it had been left to Gil's father. He said that wasn't fair and that the house belonged to him.

  “He was as drunk as could be and he pushed his way into the house! I told him to go away, but he said he wasn't going anywhere until I signed the house over to him! I said I wouldn't do it, and that Bill was on his way over to visit and he'd call the police on him if he didn't go.”

  Nancy blushed slightly as she continued, “You see, Bill comes over to visit sometimes, just for a little tea and pie, just to be friendly.”

  Dr. Griffin's cheeks reddened too, but he said gruffly, “It's not a secret. It's our business how we spend our leisure time, and no one has a right to criticize!”

  “It's just-- well, I showed Harry the pie,” Nancy snuffled, “so he would know that Bill was coming, and he would get in trouble if he didn't go. But he didn't go! He started shouting and his face got red and he picked up the pie and said he'd smash it just like he'd smash me if I didn't sign the house over to him! Oh, it was so horrible! But then.... he started to shake, and then he just fell over backwards onto the floor, and the pie landed right on his face!”

  Dr. Griffin took her hand in his. “That's enough,” he said. Turning to us, he said, “I arrived about that time and Nancy told me what had happened. In spite of what he had done, we tried to render aid to the brute, but he was beyond our power to help.”

  “That's a terrible thing to go through,” I said. “But why didn't you call the police when you saw he was dead.”

  “I was so afraid,” Nancy sobbed. “What if they thought I killed him? What if they said to me 'You didn't want him to take your house, so you smashed a pie in his face and smothered him!' Oh, what would I do?”

  “I was not about to let that happen to Nancy,” Dr. Griffin said. “I take full responsibility for what was done. I decided to take the body away and put him someplace else where he wouldn't be connected to Nancy. Nobody in town knew who he was and no one would miss a man like that, so I would hide the body and no one would be the wiser.

  “Nancy had a lot of bubble wrap in her kitchen for protecting her pottery when she ships it to customers, so I wrapped the fellow up in it and pulled my car around to the back door and put him in the trunk. I was going to drive out to the woods and leave him there, but as I was driving by The Breezy Spoon I happened to see the dumpster behind the building and the thought struck me that I could put the body there and once the trash truck emptied the dumpster the body would be gone for good! I waited until the wee hours of the morning so that I could be sure no one would be around, then I went back and put the body in the dumpster.”

  “Jimmy saw the body in the dumpster, but the body wasn't in my dumpster when Bob and Don went out to look for it,” I said.

  “No, no, it wasn't,” Dr. Griffin replied. “I had just driven off when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the young man go out to the dumpster and then rush back into the diner. The bubble wrap had turned out to be a bad idea, because it popped loudly all the time I was lifting the body into the dumpster. It was obvious that he'd heard the noise and come out and seen the body, and I couldn't have it discovered before the trash truck came and emptied the dumpster. I hurried back, managed to get the body back into the car and get away before I got caught.”

  “But you still needed a place to take the body, so you tried the dumpster behind Sammy's Lounge next and this time it worked,” I surmised.

  “Yes, you've put that together too, I see,” Dr. Griffin said. He held out his hands, wrists together. “As I said, I take full responsibility for it! Arrest me if you want, but leave Nancy out of it! She's innocent in this!”

  Nancy had almost run through the whole box of tissues and was about to start crying again, but Bob held up his hands and said, “No one's getting arrested! I'll talk to the sheriff for you; he's a kind-hearted man and I'm sure he can be persuaded to overlook the moving of the body.”

  “Especially considering how many others got bit by the body-moving bug,” Mark added.

  “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” Bob said.

  “Hear what? I didn't say anything because I don't know anything,” Mark replied. “And if I did know anything, I've forgotten it.”

  Nancy stood up and wrung my hand earnestly. “I'm so sorry about all this,” she said softly. “I must apologize for being so rude yesterday, too. I think your friend Brendan would look very nice in gator-skin boots.”

  As everyone filed out of the office, Mark said to me, “I'm trying to imagine Brendan in gator-skin boots, and I can't seem to do it.”

  “I don't think Brendan could imagine it either,” I said.

  Kitty was standing by the counter, wearing a beautiful brocade dress. “I changed in the ladies room,” she said. “I thought it was best.”

  She looked gorgeous, and from the expression on Bob's face I could tell that he would agree with that statement. He put his arm out and Kitty slipped her arm inside his, and they went outside. Mark and I followed them, and we started off for the school to save the teenagers of East Spoon Creek City from the perils of snuggling and smooching.

  Chapter 13

  It turns out I was wrong about Mark and Bob not being able to do anything about the music at the prom. Aft
er the first hour of ear-splitting rockabilly music, Principal Miller came over to the chaperons' table and told us that he would have to leave to pick up his mother-in-law at the Pumpkin City Airport. He said he should be back in an hour and a half and that we should keep a sharp eye on the kids because who knows what they would do if they realized he wasn't watching. Before his car was even out of the parking lot the strains of Here and Now were coming out of the speakers. The chaperons decided to dance after all.

  “You know, if you hold me any closer you're going to have to put a double lock on your door tonight,” Mark said.

  “Excuse me, but you're the one who keeps pulling me closer. Not a great example for the kiddies.”

  “Oh, I didn't realize I was doing that. It's just a condition I have. It's similar to 'restless leg syndrome' only it affects my arms. Whenever I'm holding an attractive girl, my arms just automatically seem to pull her closer and closer. 'Restless arm syndrome' I think it's called. Probably incurable.”

  We almost bumped into Bob and Kitty as they danced past us. Bob said, “Hey, let's see some daylight over there.”

  “Let's wait till I see some daylight coming from your direction,” said Mark. “Lead by example as they say.”

  I looked over at the other chaperons and saw that Brendan and Tammy were dancing pretty close too, but Jack Hartley and Millie Farnsworth were certainly 'leading by example'. It appeared as if they had about two feet of “daylight” between them. Millie was determined that Jack would turn out to be husband number four, but Jack seemed equally determined that such a fate would not befall him. He was polite when she managed to rope him into accompanying her to social gatherings but that was as far as it went.

  “You smell nice,” I said to Mark. “Sort of like flowers.”

  “Yes, and I hate it,” he replied. “I use Irish Spring and it always smells the same but this time I smell like a flower garden for some reason.”

  I laughed. “You didn't buy it at the Emporium, did you?”

  “Well, I wasn't going in and walking straight up to the counter and asking for knock-off Viagra! I bought a few other things so I wouldn't look like a complete loser. I needed some soap anyway, and they had Irish Spring.”