A Whiskey Sour Wipeout
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2018 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter 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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thanks for Reading
Catalog of Books
Chapter One
“Git out of there you old coot!” Dixie scolded Digger for sneaking an olive from the condiment tray.
“What? I didn’t eat lunch today. Give me a break.” Digger flashed her his version of a smile, but it looked more like he had indigestion.
“If you eat anymore I’m going to have to charge you for it. If you’re that hungry, order a plate. You know we sell food here, too, not just beer.” Dixie glared out the side of her face at the grave digger.
“I’m good. Thanks.” Digger scanned the two empty seats next to him. “Where’s Guardrail and Dog Breath? I haven’t seen much of them lately.”
Dixie wiped the bar surface and didn't look up. “They are busy with some big customization job. I heard Dog mention dual sidecars, or something like that. They’ve been busy at work.”
Digger swiveled his head round to scan the bar and dining area. “This place feels empty. Guardrail and Dog are working. Ginger, Ida and Piper are out playing journalist. Half our crew is missing today.”
Dixie flicked her wrist and checked the watch strapped there. “Ginger said they will be back, in a couple of hours. Piper’s syndicated articles are generating a lot of attention and the girls are working on another one for next month. Seems everyone wants to know more about our little pub. It’s good for business.”
A voice emanated through the order window. “Hey, you know I’m here, right? I can hear you back here. Why does everyone always forget about me?” Bones was busy washing dishes as indicated by the sounds of clinking plates and sloshing water.
“We know you’re there, Bones. Now get back to work!” Tom was talking to Star over by the souvenir racks till he spun to yell at Bones. Then he turned to face his gloomy patron. “And what are you talking about, Digger? What are we chopped liver? There are plenty of people here.”
Star smiled at Digger, and he blushed. She said, “I know you miss your drinking buddies. I was hoping to chat with Dog myself.”
“Whenever you say ‘I know’ it makes my skin crawl. Makes me feel like you're in my head, reading my thoughts. Ya know, the psychic thing.” Digger couldn't look at her and stared down at the foam on his beer.
She chuckled at him. “No! It’s not like that at all. It’s not hard for anyone to see that you miss Guardrail and Dog when they’re not here.”
Tom grunted. “I miss them too. Guardrail and Dog are some of my best paying customers. Now where were we, ah yes, the T-shirts.”
Star picked one up and examined it. “I like them. It gets the grumpy chicken right, too.”
Tom scowled. “The image is kind of creepy. You think people will buy them?”
Star chuckled. “Yeah. This is what people have been asking for. To see what she looks like.”
The front door popped open and in walked the big frame of Guardrail with Dog Breath in tow. The two marched over to their stools like they owned the room and assumed their spots next to Digger. Guardrail boomed. “Dixie, you pretty thing. Two tall cold ones. We’re celebrating the completion of a huge job.”
Digger looked up from his beer and beamed. “Glad to see you boys.”
Dog Breath, for once in his life, wore a smile on his face. Dixie noticed and asked, “What canary did you swallow? I almost didn’t recognize you with that silly grin.”
“Taught Guardrail something on this job. We would never have finished the job if I didn’t know how do it.” Dog nodded to emphasize his bragging rights.
Guardrail responded by punching him in the shoulder and Dog almost fell off the stool. “Don’t get a big head. It was not that big a deal.”
Dog rubbed his shoulder and reset himself properly on the stool. “That’s the thanks I get. And you wonder why I don’t smile much.”
Tom snarled at the two motorcycle mechanics. “We don’t give a hoot about your chopping and welding escapades. What do you think of these T-shirts?” Tom held one up so they could see it.
Dog answered him, “Is kind of creepy. But I like it. It’s a good likeness of the cranky bird.”
Guardrail added, “Printed on the black T-shirts like that, it looks like a T-shirt from an old heavy metal band. Looks good.”
Star grinned. “See, people will buy them.”
Tom snorted, and put the T-shirt down. Between the sales in the pub and at Star’s new age store, the merchandise business was a good money maker. And Tom liked making the extra money, so he paid more attention than needed to the souvenirs.
“I am glad you came in while I was here. Can I talk to you, in private Dog?” Star’s voice was soft and had a hint of nerves.
“Me? What do you need to talk to me about?” Dog’s eyebrows hiked up about an inch as he replied.
“It’s a little private, we can talk over there.” Star pointed at an empty table in one corner of the dining area.
“Okay.” Dog slowly rose, then hesitated for a moment before following Star to the corner table.
Star had a fifteen-foot lead and got to the table first, taking a seat and folding her hands on the tabletop. Then she waited for Dog.
Dog was a few seconds behind her and stood behind a tucked in chair. “Okay, this is weird. So, what did you want to talk about.”
“Take a seat. I would like to get a read on you. Something strange happened and I fear something bad is happening in your life.” Star pointed to the empty chair in front of him.
Dog took the offer, slid the chair out from under the table and sat, placing the beer he brought on the flat surface. “I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but that is the kind of talk that makes everyone think you are a little, well, odd and scary at times.”
Star laughed. “I have been psychic since I was a young girl. And I know that my gifts and visions can spook people.”
Dog leaned in to her, just a little bit, and used his best compassionate voice, “Do you really think the abilities you have are gifts?”
She giggled. “Of course. The ability to communicate with those who have passed to the other side is wonderful. And people have always wanted to see the future. When my visions and dreams indicate a possible future, that is special. Not everyone can do those things. So, yes, it can be scary sometimes but it is without a doubt a gift.”
Dog shuddered. “I don’
t get it, I guess.”
“Dog, listen, I had a dream. A man was murdered by a woman, using some sort of poison.”
Dog huffed. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
Star shifted in her seat. “I was not done. The man talked about his old ‘Nam friends and your name was mentioned a few times. The name Dog Breath is not very common, so it had to be you.”
Dog’s face went long. “Did you get the man’s name?”
“I think the woman called him Harry once.” Star scrunched up her face and looked off into space. “That’s all I could make out. Does the name Harry mean anything to you?”
Dog froze, then stammered. “That is so general. I knew many Harrys in my life. And your dreams don’t always mean what you think. You told me that yourself.”
“That’s true. But I know when to pay attention. And we need to pay attention to this.” Star pleaded with her eyes for him to understand.
Dog could be a bit oblivious at times, but he understood her message. “Okay. I get it. But right now, my life is really good. And there are no Harrys in my life.”
Star smiled and spoke in a low but serious tone. “Just keep your guard up. Something is going on. I know it.”
Dog frowned. “See, there it is again. That weird poltergeist stuff. And I hate when your voice gets that weird tone! I think we are done and I am going to go back and drink some beer, celebrate with my buddies. You want to come join us or do you have more to say?”
“I told you what I can for now. If I learn anything else, I will tell you, promise. Can you do the same? If something strange does happen, you need to tell me. Alright?”
Dog smiled. “You will be the first to know. I promise.”
Dixie shrieked, followed by the sound of a glass breaking on the floor. “Jumping chicken livers!”
Digger leaned over the bar. “Are you all right, Dixie? What happened?”
Dixie’s voice was raised a few octaves. “Can’t you tell I’m not alright?”
Guardrail boomed, “No, what happened?”
Dixie picked up a pub glass and pulled the tap. Thick black beer flowed. “This is the lager tap, not the stout tap. It should be light gold and clear. But it looks like molasses and stinks. The grumper is up to something, that is the only possible explanation. I just poured a dozen beers from this tap and it was fine until now.”
Guardrail glanced briefly at the pickled egg jar. “You sure it’s that pesky limping chicken spirit? The eggs are her favorite thing to mess with. And they’re fine.”
Digger added, “Guardrail is right. Just change the keg. Maybe it needs to be changed.”
Tom jumped in. “I’ll change it. No one messes with my taps.”
Tom grabbed Bones and the two carried out a brand-new keg from the walk-in cooler. Then they unhooked the tap from the problem keg and removed it.
Bones shook his head. “I don’t know. This still feels like it has beer.”
Tom barked back at him. “Be quiet and help me put this new keg in the chill box.”
The two wrestled the heavy keg into place, then Tom tapped it. He pulled the tap and clear, golden lager flowed. “See, everything is fine.”
Guardrail exhaled. “Whew! That’s good. I think my blood pressure skyrocketed when it looked like we were having problem with pouring beer. And just when I got here.”
Dixie grabbed a pint glass and poured. “Here ya go big fella. Nothing to worry about.” She put the fresh drink down in front of Guardrail.
Guardrails eyes enlarged and sparkled. “That’s beautiful. The perfect pour. I could float a quarter on that head of foam. Just lovely.”
Star and Dog Breath had moved from their private spot back over to the bar with all the commotion and Dog sat on his usual stool.
Star took a stool near the center of the bar. She leaned on the edge and asked, “You okay Dixie? There’s glass everywhere back there. Did you get cut?”
Dixie shook her head no. “I’m fine. But that was really strange.”
Bones came out with a broom and dust pan and helped Dixie clean up the mess. Bones gasped, “Man! This stuff stinks. I’m not drinking anything that smells like this. I can’t believe it came from a keg.”
Dixie glared at the young man. “It was fine until I pulled that last glass.”
Tom came behind the bar with a big smile on his face. “Think I will have to do some quality control on that newly tapped keg.” He grabbed a pilsner glass and pulled the tap. After a couple of seconds, Tom whimpered and dropped the glass, which shattered on the floor.
The group at the bar stared at the broken glass on the floor, then stared at Tom.
Star finally asked, “Did you get cut? And what is that weird black stuff on the floor.”
Tom whimpered. “I’m alright. That stuff came out of the tap.” He pointed at the puddle on the floor.
Dog moaned and looked to Star. “Something is going on. Nothing like this has happened in the pub for months. And this happens just after you have a dream? Even I know this isn't a coincidence.”
Star raised one eyebrow a little. “I told you I know what dreams to pay attention to and this recent one was definitely one of them. I agree this is no coincidence. The grumpy chicken is sending us a warning.”
Chapter Two
Things had been quiet for months...I even worried that the grumpy chicken had left our pub and gone somewhere else. But that all changed yesterday when our taps acted up for no apparent reason. Well, Star did have a dream and I've learned from experience to pay attention when she tells us about something strange.
“I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Why do things like this happen to me?” Dog Breath’s eyes were a bit droopy and he yawned.
Tom snorted, “I was the one who poured that foul glass of, whatever that was, yesterday.”
“Yeah, and we’ve had to listen to ya bellyaching ever since. It wasn’t that big a deal and the beer has flowed fine since.” Guardrail rolled his eyes and took a bite from the sandwich he ordered for lunch.
Ida shrugged her shoulders. “Guardrail’s right. It’s not that big a deal. And we were searching for things to include in Piper’s next newspaper article, so this actually is a good thing from that perspective. Now we have something to write about.”
Dog shook his head slowly. “Not a good thing. Not good at all. Something bizarre is going on. I know it.”
Digger had been still and quiet but laughed. “You are the most pessimistic person I know. Your business is doing good and you have caring friends to rely on. What’s there to worry about?”
Everyone stared at Digger.
Ida glared at the old grave digger and spoke. “Really? You’re calling someone out about being pessimistic? That’s a bit ironic, in my humble opinion.”
“I’m a happy, optimistic man.” Digger scanned his friend’s faces, then added, “Sometimes.”
The snicker slipped out of me. “I’m sorry, Digger, but Ida is right. You can be a little gloomy and gruff sometimes.”
Digger shrugged the comments off. “Ginger, I don’t care what y’all think.” Then he swigged his beer to ignore us.
Piper discounted the conversation up until now and decided to change the topic. “So, where is Star? I need to talk to her to make sure we accurately recount what she told Dog in the article. You know, exactly what she saw in her dream.”
I answered her. “She said she was coming by later tonight.”
“Ginger, do you like these T-shirts?” Tom was over by the souvenir rack and held up one of the new designs.
I chuckled. “Looks like it came from a heavy metal concert Dad.”
Guardrail slapped the bar top. “I said the same thing when I saw it.”
Piper sighed. “Come on guys. The T-shirts can wait. I have a deadline to make and I need your help with the new article.”
Dog sat up straight and pinched his eyebrows. “The events from yesterday aren’t enough for you? You’re getting lazy and been spoiled by our spi
rit chicken. You got plenty for a new article.”
Piper frowned. “I know there is enough for an article. But I have a better chance of getting the story straight by talking to these walls. Not one of you knows how to focus and relay details.”
Tom huffed. “I can. I will tell you all you need to know. Star told Dog about a bonkers dream and our taps spit out weird, dark colored beer. Then it stopped. The end.”
Piper grunted. “See what I have to deal with?” She then locked eyes with Tom for twenty seconds until he lost the staring contest when he waved his hand at her.
Tom bellowed, “Quit your belly aching. You’ll get what ya need from Star.”
Dixie squealed and we all spun to the sound. “Sorry, the beer I was pouring made a gurgling sound. I thought maybe it was happening again.” Dixie let out a nervous laugh and held up the beer for all to see.
Tom walked behind the bar and pushed Dixie aside. “Let me see.”
Guardrail leaned on the bar and his voice became firm and loud. “I told you before. Don’t tell me the beer is messed up. We got no other place to go and drink with friends.”
Piper chuckled. “Oh, what was that? The tap hiccups and that becomes a crisis.”
A strange low grinding of metal on metal drifted out of the kitchen through the order window. It made an eerie sound that made your skin crawl. I saw Dixie’s face go white and my dad froze in his steps. He hollered, “Bones, what was that?”
“Sorry, dragged the grease pan out from under the grill. It somehow got stuck and I had to give it a little persuasion.” Bones’ hand popped through the order window, and he gave the thumbs up to confirm it was alright.
“You break that grill I am going to break you. And it’s coming out of your pay!” Dad hated the thought of not being able to sell beer or food.
Piper mumbled, commiserating with herself. “Now it’s the grill.”
“Hey, Ginger, do you know anyone named Harry?” Dog was back to worrying about Star’s dream.
“Yeah, Harry Connick, Jr.” I smiled at Dog but he looked back at me like I spoke to him in Latin.
Dog scrunched his face. “Who’s that?”
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