Breezy Spoon Diner Box Set Collection

by Tracey Quinn

  “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,” Brendan 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 bea
ch 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 call 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.

  It was lunch time when Mayor Pumphrey came into the diner. Howard Pumphrey is a short round man, 5'5” tall and weighs about 300 pounds, which is why some of his constituents call him Mr. Five-by-Five. He is a mediocre mayor but he keeps getting re-elected because no one else wants the job. I noticed that he had an egg yolk stain on his tie, which was nothing unusual, but he also had a flat-top haircut. Harry Morrison strikes again.

  “How are you doing today?” I asked, as I led him to a table. Booths didn't work out very well for the Mayor. He could squeeze into one, but getting back out was always a challenge.

  “Not good, not good,” he said, shaking his head. “My wife Velma's gone off to take care of her grandmother, which leaves me without a secretary. She doesn't seem to realize that she has responsibilities here.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” I said. “What happened to her grandmother?”

  “Nothing much, just a broken ankle, but, for heavens' sake, the woman is 92 years old! Why does she always need Velma to take care of her? How old do you have to be before you learn how to take care of yourself? Why just last year when she got hit by a car, wouldn't you know she called Velma again! I went to the hospital myself to see her and she had nothing wrong with her at all except a little lump on her head about the size of a baseball. People can be so selfish, Dani. Speaking of selfish, this Lloyd Duval creature is causing chaos in this town!”

  “Oh, you mean with his Courage lectures? Is it causing too much traffic?” I asked.

  “No, I don't care about traffic as long as I'm not in it,” he said. “That yahoo challenged me for the mayor's office! He wants me to agree to debate him at the city fair! When is that thing anyhow?”

  “It starts this weekend,” I replied. “It's always the first week of October. What on earth makes Lloyd Duval think that he could win a race for mayor? He just got back to town and the election is only about five weeks off.”

  “He just got back to town? Where's he been?”

  “Don't you remember? He's been in jail for the past six years?”

  “Good Lord! That's great! Maybe I can use that against him. I hope it was for something serious, not just jaywalking or something like that.”

  Mayor Pumphrey never ceases to amaze me. Six years for jay-walking?

  “No, it was for killing a man in a bar fight.”

  “All right then, that's good. You can see now why I need Velma to come back, can't you Dani? She tends to remember things like that. Also I need her to set up my booth at the fair. I hope you're going to have a one at the fair this year.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “When Jesse owned the diner he always had one, so we will, too.”

  “That's good. Jesse's food at the fair was usually instant mashed potatoes and gravy in a Dixie cup and the Ladies Auxiliary served fish sticks and tater tots on a stick. I always brought a sandwich with me. Speaking of food, what's the lunch special today?”

  “We have grilled bratwurst Reubens on rye buns, the choice of sides are roast sweet potato hash with caramelized onions, french fries or bacon mac and cheese, and for dessert we have chocolate fudge pie or caramel layer cake.”

  “Okay, I'll have that.”

  “All right,” I said, noticing that the egg yolk on his tie wasn't dry yet. “Which side and dessert do you want?”

  “Just bring all of them. With Velma gone I never know what to choose.”

  So Lloyd Duval was running for Mayor! What on earth was he up to? Whatever it was, the idea of Mayor Duval didn't exactly fill me with joy.

  After I got off work at two o'clock Mark came by the diner and asked if I'd like to go jogging with him by the lake for about a half hour. I was tired, but I could stand to burn a few calories and I had determined to actually stick to a fitness routine for once, so I said okay.

  It was a nice afternoon, not too hot with a pleasant breeze wafting off the water, and pretty soon I wasn't regretting the decision as much as I had been when we started. I still found my mind returning to Lloyd Duval and his bid for the mayor's office, and we had been jogging for almost ten minutes before I noticed that Mark had fallen behind.

  “Why are you jogging behind me?” I asked.

  “Obviously it's hard for an older person to keep up with someone who's so much younger and...”

  “And you're ogling my buns.”

  “Good heavens, you might be right,” he said as he jogged up beside me. “I'm embarrassed to tell you that I am the victim of a rare condition that causes my eyes to involuntarily go into ogle-mode when I see an attractive girl. The medical community both here and abroad has worked diligently through the years to rid me of this dreadful affliction, but alas, to no avail. I've had acupuncture, hypnotherapy, ear wax analysis, deep pore cleansing, but nothing works. I guess I'll just have to live with it.”

  “It's very impressive that you can shovel all that crap while jogging and not lose your breath,” I said.

  “I work out.”

  “Speaking of working out, I noticed the other evening when you were on the treadmill in the basement that you have a scar on your left side. I assumed at first that it was from man-scaping gone wrong, but on second look it seemed like it was from something, shall we say, a little more aggressive than that.”

  “Don't know what man-scaping is but the scar is just a souvenir from when I was in t
he Middle East. So you were checking out the hot bod when you were sitting down there pretending to crochet?”

  “Excuse me, I was crocheting! I'm making a blanket for my bed. I want to have it done before it gets cold this winter.”

  “A blanket? The thing is about the size of a coaster. I almost sat my soda can on it.”

  “Well it's a complicated pattern.”

  “You left your notes on the washer. Chain stitch, three double crochet, repeat.”

  “You don't crochet so you may not be aware that those are very intricate stitches, and I certainly was not checking out the hot bod, as you say. Naturally I looked up when you made a major production number of whipping off your shirt like some matador's cape.”

  “Pardon me for not wanting to have heat stroke.”

  “It was 65 degrees down there. My toes were turning blue.”

  “Oh, I thought the thermometer said 95 degrees. Must be my dyslexia kicking in. And just a bit of advice. You'll get more benefit out of jogging either here or on the treadmill if you wear spandex shorts instead of those baggy ones you have on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, the spandex holds the gluteal musculature more firmly during exercise so that the muscles become toned more rapidly.”

  “And you're an expert on gluteal muscles?” I asked.

  “You might say it's been an area of interest.”

  My phone rang and I saw it was Charlene, my ditzy 16 year old waitress who works the afternoon shift. I would have ignored it but Charlene is supposed to be working now, so I answered.

  “What's up, Charlene, aren't you at work now?”

  “Oh yes, I am, Miss O'Shea,” she replied. “I just wanted to call and let you know about the baby. Jimmy and I are so excited.”

  I stopped jogging. “The baby? You mean you and Jimmy-”

  Jimmy, who is also 16 years old, works as a busboy at the diner.