Bobby's Diner

by Wingate, Susan

  ***

  By three, the diner looked closed, which it was—lights off, no cars in front, lifeless. José was out in the back on his knees yanking out weeds and busily working in the soil.

  “Seen Vanessa?” He jerked when I spoke, I’d startled him.

  “Oh, Mrs. Carlisle, you scared me.” “Sorry, José. Has Vanessa been by?”

  “Haven’t seen her.” He looked around out to the north, then east, then south. “What’s up, José?”

  “Oh, a man was walking around here earlier. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Big, I didn’t get a good look at him, like I said I didn’t recognize him. He was wearing dark sunglasses. He was only here for just a second. I saw him over there.” José pointed to the side of the diner. “But, then he was gone.” Sweat poured down José’s face and he wiped it with the upper part of his sleeve. “Maybe he wanted to eat.”

  We both started to look around then, like the man might show up again.

  “Well, if you see Vanessa will you tell her to call me, José? I’m starting to worry a little.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Carlisle.” He dropped to his knees again and busily picked leafy vegetables and put them into his basket.

  ***

  It wasn’t all that unusual for one of us, me or Vanessa, to show up the evening before we opened for the week after our days off. Driving in, the moon was cresting over the mountains in the distance and yet the sun was still peeking low along the hills in the opposite horizon. I was gazing out the driver’s side window enjoying the sunset when I heard another car approaching me fast, it sounded like the driver was gunning it. Next thing I see is this truck is coming straight for me and honking its horn. We both swerved out of each other’s lane. I was only half a block from the diner and nearly got into an accident. It felt like my biorhythms were out of whack that day.

  When I pulled up, Roberta’s car was parked outside the diner. She and I seemed to be on the same wavelength and same mission to find her mother. The restaurant’s exterior auto-light clicked on when I stepped out of my car. I unlocked the door and heard a shuffle in the kitchen.

  “Vanessa!” I called out.

  “Vanessa!” I called out a little louder that time.

  Help me. The words sounded puny.

  My purse dropped where I stood and I ran toward the voice, a woman’s voice. The kitchen was upended. By the door, the mixer hung from the outlet off the counter and onto the floor, a rack was pulled part way out of the wall and hung from one screw, aprons were strewn around, the knife holder tipped over, and there was blood behind the center island on a wall that smeared down below the line of my sight. I screamed Vanessa! And, ran around to help.

  Roberta was lying on the floor in an expanding pool of blood.

  “Jesus.” I ran to the phone and called 9-1-1. After relaying information to the operator I grabbed an apron and rushed over to Roberta with it. Pressing the cloth firmly into the wound in her stomach, I tried to speak calmly and quietly. Our eyes connected and she looked sweet and peaceful.

  “Georgie, I…”

  “Roberta, don’t talk. Stay real quiet, honey. You need to keep your heart calm, you mustn’t lose anymore blood. The paramedics will be here in a second. Shh…” As I finished we could hear sirens in the distance approaching rapidly and come to a sliding stop on the gravel outside the diner. The door opened. I looked toward the sound then back to Roberta. She smiled at me and then closed her eyes.

  “In here, hurry!”

  The EMTs worked fast and furiously. I stayed back against a wall and watched as they administered a syringe full of coagulant into her hip, blood and fluids into her vein, and pressed an oxygen mask onto her face. They lifted her onto the Gurney, put her into the ambulance and drove off blaring urgently. I got lost in the waning sound as it sped away.

  Then, I heard Willy say quietly to another officer. “We need to call the coroner and the crime scene unit. This one didn’t make it.”

  “What?” His words surfaced like a shark’s fin in the water.

  “You need to stay back, Mrs. Carlisle.” He held his arms up to block me from the back door where he stood.

  “What is it? What is it, Willy?” He dropped his head.

  “Let me by.”

  “Mrs. Carlisle, you can’t go back there. You shouldn’t. It’s a crime scene now. We can’t have you destroy possible evidence, understand?”

  “Willy.” He knew I was serious.

  “Look from the door. Don’t contaminate the evidence, Georgette. It’s important.” I walked by him to the opening of the door. When I looked out my heart started to race and my legs felt weak and shaky. I heard my own frail voice call out to Willy, “No. Oh, no. No, god,

  no.” Only his body lay there. It wasn’t really him anymore. The blood pooled down the ramp and into the dirt. It looked like water, dark water surrounding him as it bled off and into his garden. He looked so small and he fell in a contorted position that made the whole thing seem disjointed and appear as if I were looking through a prism and into a distorted version of reality.

  The door jamb caught my body as I slid down it till I reached the floor. My hands covered my face.

  “Mrs. Carlisle, there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

  Then, he said something about rigor and at least an hour had gone by. The night seemed unending but only fifteen minutes had passed since I’d walked though the door. My instincts were right on that day. My worries were met face to face with horror. Roberta might not make it. She’d been shot high in the stomach. Now this. Where was Vanessa? How could I explain to her what had happened? How could I tell her José had been killed?

  CHAPTER 25

  The hospital buzzed with doctors and nurses, police officers and ambulances. Where Roberta slept, the recovery room, felt miles away from the bustle. I’d given a police report of what little I knew. Told them about the previous vandalism—the first time they’d destroyed the garden, the day, the damage and how we thought it was just the local juvenile element, nothing more.

  We stood close to the emergency entrance while I laid out to a police officer about events that had taken place over the past couple of weeks. As we talked, a large van with “Coroner” lettered across its hind doors backed up to the large double doors of the emergency entrance. The medics pulled out a person on a Gurney. That person was covered from head-to-toe under a blue cotton sheet. When they lowered him a wheel on the Gurney caught one of the medic’s shoes. The Gurney jerked into place but doing so jostled the body. His hand fell out from under the sheet and it was then it finally struck me that José was dead. His hand was proof. I gasped and covered my eyes. The officer walked over and gently put José’s hand back under the cover. He said something to the medics who looked over quickly at me then focused on the officers face and shook their heads apologetically.

  I wondered what they were going to tell José’s wife. Her life would be severed.

  ***

  She looked like an angel—like Bobby—as she laid there unconscious. Memories flooded me about her. The screaming match she had with him before the divorce. She didn’t realize I was in Bobby’s hotel bathroom with him when she happened by. She carried on solid before Bobby could get a word in edgewise. When he did, he just said, “Sorry, honey. Someday you’ll understand, or not.” She slammed the door hard when she left. He was dreadfully sad. The divorce was finalized the following week. Roberta showed up with her mother at the hearing. Bobby, the petitioner took the stand and was asked if there was any hope for reconciliation. After he responded No Roberta stood up and called her father a coward. He looked at me squarely in the eyes as if he’d lost all hope. I shook my head because I didn’t know what to do.

  “Roberta,” he said, “Roberta, honey, this is not about you.” The court recorder kept typing the words. The whole thing was recorded as public record.

  And, when they asked Vanessa if she’d like to respond, she only sai
d, “Forty-five years.” She got up and walked out of our lives. I took his hand when he got down from the witness stand, he was shaking like a leaf.

  The next time we heard from Roberta, two years later, her mother had been admitted to the oncology ward of Las Vegas General Hospital—breast cancer. After a year of chemo—and radiation-therapy, she was given a clean bill of health. Bobby helped out the best he could. He visited her in the hospital twice and went over to Rick and Roberta’s when all seemed lost. But, thanks to the good lord above, she lived. And, as far as the doctors were concerned, so would Roberta, now.

  The blood pressure monitored dinged every three minutes for three hours and by ten-thirty that night Vanessa was still missing in action. Ding. An I-C-U nurse came in and checked her vitals. Ding. An orderly came in and replaced a bag of blood. Ding.

  My mind was bouncing around like a bullet shot off in a lead barrel when the frantic voice of a woman spoke to the nurse at the station outside Roberta’s room. “Banner, Carlisle-Banner, Roberta Carlisle-Banner.

  What room is she in?” The nurse said something that pissed her off. “I’m her mother!” I stood up to go to the door and call Vanessa over. But, she was headed in before I could cross the room.

  “Oh my god . Oh my god .”

  “She’s okay, Van. She’s gonna make it.” I tried to calm her down but she’d have nothing of it. It seemed she blamed herself.

  “Roberta—my baby—oh my lord, please—oh, my god, please lord, please…” I was miles away from the two of them as I stood behind Vanessa. The nurse must have alerted the resident-on-staff because he came in only moments after she arrived.

  “Mrs. Carlisle?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded gritty and her face, tight.

  “Mrs. Carlisle, your daughter lost a lot of blood.”

  Vanessa’s hand rose up to her mouth and she started to cry. “She’s stable right now, and has been for a good hour.

  She’s doing remarkably well for the injury she’s sustained.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, she received a gunshot wound to the left-side of her stomach. But, she’s had surgery, we’ve stopped the bleeding and she’s recovering just like she should.

  She’s going to be fine. But, she needs rest to build her strength. We’re checking on her every half hour. She’s recovering nicely. She’ll be fine.” He was very considerate and kept repeating how well Roberta was doing. Vanessa sat in the chair I’d been filling in her absence, holding her hand that I’d held, and staring into her face. I stood behind her and watched the two sit silently together—mother and daughter. When I left the room Vanessa hadn’t even noticed.

  ***

  At one o’clock in the morning the phone rang. I scrambled to it.

  “Hello.”

  “Georgie, it’s me, Van.”

  “Oh, hi, hon. How’s Roberta doing?”

  “She’s doing better, I think.”

  “Thank god , Van. Thank god .” “Yeah.” She paused.

  “Van?”

  “Oh, Willy came by after you left. I didn’t know you’d gone, Georgie.”

  “You two needed to be alone. I didn’t want to disturb you by saying that I was leaving.”

  She sniffled a little and I realized she was crying.

  “I can come back, Van. Do you want me to come back?”

  * * *

  Using my fingers as a comb I tried to fix my hair as I climbed from the car in the hospital parking lot. My breath smelled like hell so I stuffed a piece of cinnamon gum in it and chewed.

  She looked used-up but smiled at me anyway when I walked into the room again.

  I whispered. “How’s she doin’?”

  “She’s great.” She paused again. So, I pulled up a chair to sit next to Van.

  “She’s a strong girl, Van. She’s gonna come out of this with shining colors, you just see.” Van smiled at me and tears filled her eyes and she covered her face. “It’s all I’ve done tonight, you know, cry like this.” “Hey. It’s understandable. You cry. Cry good and hard if you want, I’ve been doing my fair share.” “Willy told me, Georgie.” Her eyes were wet and focused deep into mine. “He told me everything. He told me if you hadn’t…”

  “Shh…” I stopped her with my hand up to her. I knew what she meant.

  “Did he tell you about José?” Her head nodded slowly.

  “If I’d only gotten there a little sooner, Van, maybe…”

  My strength slipped away without a care—I couldn’t contain my sorrow. She pulled me into her and we sat, for a long time, just consoling each other. We sat there just holding each other, holding each other up.

  CHAPTER 26

  “This is what we know so far, Mrs. Carlisle,” Willy spoke pointedly without giving me too much information, “the lock on the desk drawer in your office was pried open, maybe with a crow bar, and Vanessa Carlisle’s gun was the weapon involved. We suspect that José and Roberta both interrupted a burglary. José first, then Roberta after they’d shot José.”

  “Our gun?”

  “Well, it’s registered to Vanessa, Georgette. Why do you say our gun?”

  “She bought for us, to use, you know, just in case.” I couldn’t believe what Willy was telling me. Vanessa would never forgive herself.

  “In case of what?”

  “She got spooked one day at the diner and bought it a couple days later.”

  “Spooked by what, Georgette?”

  “Some big ugly guy at the restaurant. He said some things to her that made her a little nervous, I can’t remember exactly.”

  “She bought it then?”

  “Well, actually, I think it was the day the vandals broke into the stores down the strip from us, the kids, remember?”

  “Mm hmm. Well, Georgette, if you can think of anything else, anything at all that seems a little odd or out of the ordinary, call me, okay? Anytime, you hear?” “I will.” I got up to go and just as I stood I said. “Oh, Willy, this whole thing has been so awful. I keep replaying things in my head about that day, like a tape recorder, over and over.” We were leaving the interview room.

  “Georgette, I think it’ll be a long time before anyone gets over this. It’s affected the entire town.”

  “Poor José.”

  “I know. Try not to think about it. Don’t ‘what-if’ yourself. It’ll make you crazy.”

  “That’s just it, Willy. I think what if I’d gotten there sooner, would José be alive today? And, then I think what if I’d gotten in that accident, would Roberta…”

  “What accident?” We were coming into the police station lobby and I was watching my feet. The floor was always a mess there for one reason or another.

  “Oh, I nearly went head-on into an SUV about a block from the restaurant. I wasn’t paying attention and crossed over the center line. If I’d hit that car, Willy, Roberta would be dead too. I just can’t shake the thoughts out of my head anymore. They keep me up at night.”

  “Try not to think about it. I know it sounds easy but try to soothe your mind. Think about good things. Well, Georgette, I have to get back to work. Thanks for coming in. Take care.”

  “Bye, Willy.”

  ***

  Vanessa couldn’t believe the smell—or the assortment of smells—permeating the police station, coffee brewing, vomit, smoke, alcohol, body odor all emanating from a variety of suspects, offenders and a stained coffee pot on the sergeant’s desk that faced the double glass doors. She nearly turned around and left but stopped herself. She yanked at her jacket’s hem and coughed slightly, then walked nervously up to the man sitting behind the desk. She didn’t recognize him.

  “My name is Vanessa Carlisle. I’m here to see Willy, Officer Willard Cleary, please.” “Carlisle?”

  “Yes. Vanessa Carlisle.”

  “Just a minute please.” He picked up the phone and dialed an extension. “Willy, a Vanessa Carlisle is here… mm hmm… will do.

  “He says he’ll be out in j
ust a minute and to have a seat.”

  She looked around at the available chairs in the lobby, one next to a scruffy looking man with stained and tattered clothing who was rambling loudly about the dogs at the race track, another seat next to a pierced and tattooed young pregnant girl who was smoking and in handcuffs with an officer sitting next to her taking notes, and another in between a whirring pop machine and a decent enough looking young man filling out something on a clipboard. She took that seat and held her purse tightly on her lap. Her widening hips barely fit into the metal frame of the chair and made telltale dents where it pressed into her. Wanting to rest her hands by her sides in order to hide her legs would mean relinquishing the tight grip she held on her purse. Vanity lost out and she only looked back down once at her bulging thighs. On the floor under her feet was a sticky distorted circle of spilled cola. She tried to place her feet around it but found it futile and relinquished to placing them smack in the center with her feet close together.

  Only a moment passed when Willy showed up. She had to push herself out of the chair which insisted on remaining attached to her buttocks and did momentarily. It dropped from her and clanked noisily against the tile floor when it landed. She straightened her pants and walked up to Willy to shake his hand. Whatever slime she’d picked up on her shoes was sticking to the floor and made a sucking noise each time she stepped.

  “Mrs. Carlisle.” He grabbed her extended hand.

  “Please, Willy, call me by my name. How long have we known each other? Is it twenty some years now?” “Vanessa.”

  “That’s better.” They let go of each other’s hands.

  “Come with me. We can talk somewhere a little more private.” He led her through the lobby and down a hall of windowed offices some with two and three desks, some with only one, and into one with mini-blinds and a solid door with a conference table.