by T B Audrey
The Valentine's Day Mini-Mystery Compendium
(The Holiday Collection)
A Collection of Short Stories
Copyright © 2013 Leah Bailey, Victoria Bailey, Katherine Bailey, Giles Kent. All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to:
Betsy and Kenny
Ed and Edna
&
Jerry and Ann
Three of the most perfect examples of True Love
that transcends even death.
Table of Contents
AN UNUSUAL REQUEST
by T.B. Audrey
SAMSON’S CORNER
by K.B. Clyde
THE RUBY NECKLACE
by Price McNaughton
SIGNED, YOUR SECRET ADMIRER
by Giles Kent
AN UNUSUAL REQUEST
By T.B. Audrey
Beatrice looked up through the darkness at the dingy, unlit neon sign. Roberta’s Diner, it read. She reached out a gloved hand and pulled the door open, sliding into the grungy little diner’s interior. She looked around her. The inside of the establishment was not much better than the outside. There were booths to the left side, their red vinyl seats all dirty, stained, or ripped. The tables they sat under weren’t fairing much better, most were chipped and covered with doodles and swear words from years of restless patrons.
The walls were a garish yellow color, and the floors had yellow and green alternating tile, giving the appearance that the diner hadn’t been redecorated since it was built in the seventies. On the right was a long counter, at which sat five swivel stools, just as weary and ripped as the booths. Behind the long counter there was a smaller one, which held an old coffee pot and several empty food displays. At the end of the small counter was a door, which Beatrice decided must hide the cafe’s kitchen.
She scrunched her nose. Years of greasy spoon food, less than hygienic cooks, and under-washed truck drivers had permeated the interior of the eatery with the odd fragrance of stale sweat, French fries, and fast-food grease. It hung heavy in the air, so that Beatrice could almost feel the odor as it seeped into her clothing, clinging to the woolen fibers of her coat. She sighed and resigned herself to washing her clothes as soon as she got home. She hoped that her unscented detergent would be enough to wash away the invasive odor.
“There you are,” said a voice behind Beatrice. She turned to see a young man entering the diner. “I wondered where you had gotten to.”
She smiled. “Where I’d gotten to? But I was right on time, Tommy! You’re the one who’s late.” She held out her wristwatch to him. “See, you were supposed to meet me five minutes ago. You were the one who wasn’t on time, and after you asked me to come.”
He laughed, his blue eyes dancing in the dim light. “I didn’t have a choice,” he countered, gesturing to the bag he held in his right hand. “I had to get dinner.”
“But we’re in a diner.”
“A diner that’s closed, if you hadn’t noticed. The stove doesn’t even work,” he said, as he peeled off his coat and threw it over a nearby booth.
Beatrice looked around her. She had noticed the abandoned look of the place.
“But the door was open. I walked right in,” she said.
Tommy reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a small, silver object, holding it out to her for inspection. “Because I have the key. I left the door open for you in case you got here before I did.” He stuffed the key back in his pocket.
“But why do you have a key to an old, abandoned diner?” she asked. “Especially this one, way out in the middle of nowhere?”
It had taken Beatrice an hour and a half to get to the diner from Summerton, where she lived, and most of the trip had been on small, twisting roads that wound through woods or in between farmers’ fields.
“I’ll tell you as we eat. I’m starving.”
Beatrice stared across at Tommy as he silently ate his way through his third sandwich. She remembered when she first met him three years ago.
She had been sitting at her desk at Interglobe, where she worked as a customer service rep, fielding calls and trying to make amends to customers for the inadequacies of her company’s cheaply made and mass-produced electronics. She was on her fifth phone call of the day, trying to apologize over the irate screams of a customer, whose fax machine had recently burst into flames, taking the important document it had been processing with it. That’s when her computer had crashed.
Being that the computer program she was using to process the calls was new software, recently released by Interglobe, she was hardly surprised. She had rolled her eyes, transferred her caller to another service rep, and immediately called IT.
She had heard that the old IT guy, Sean, had quit about a week before and they had just found a replacement. Being the curious type, Beatrice was eager to meet him. Thirty minutes later, however, IT had still not shown up.
Beatrice sat at her desk, drumming her fingernails on the fake wooden surface. She was not at all happy. At Interglobe, the service reps were paid per call. Every minute her computer was down was another minute she could be on the phone, most likely being yelled at by a customer whose frustration with her company’s crappy products had led them to a near uncontrollable rage. The customers usually assuaged their rage by shouting at a customer service representative who had nothing to do with the problem in the first place and could do nothing about it now, but at least she got paid to listen to it.
Beatrice was ready to give the new tech guy a piece of her mind for his tardiness, and the resulting decline in the size of her next paycheck, when she spotted Tommy sliding through the door and skulking into the room.
The first thing she noticed about him was his height. He was so tall that he could have easily peeked into each cubicle as he passed it and his messy brown hair almost brushed the top of the low ceiling. Despite his height, he was easily unnoticed by most of the staff with his hunched shoulders, downcast eyes, and extremely thin frame. He drifted through the office almost unseen, like some kind of invisible apparition among mortals. When he reached her desk, Beatrice was ready to jump on him and let him know exactly how she felt about IT personnel who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.
However, as she opened her mouth to begin, he looked up shyly from the ground where his eyes had been fixed on the floor. Her harsh words died in her mouth when she saw his sweet, unassuming smile.
“Why are you staring at me like that, Bee?” Beatrice was jerked out of her memories by Tommy’s voice. She blinked and saw that he was smiling the same sweet smile she remembered from the first day they met.
“Was I staring? I’m sorry. I’m a little tired from the drive,” she answered.
As usual, Tommy was quick with a laugh. “You can’t blame the drive. After all, I’ve never known you not to be tired!”
“Hey, you have no idea how hard it is to be yelled at all day,” she protested.
His smile died on his lips. “You should quit,” he said sympathetically.
“I can’t. I need the money.”
He crossed his arms, “So you’re just going to stay at a job you hate your entire life? You’re the one that wants adventure, remember?”
“That isn’t fair,” she said. “I’m going to quit. One day. Eventually….”
He shrugged. “I just want you to be happ
y, you know.”
She smiled. “I know,” she said, trying to not let her annoyance creep into her voice.
Tommy was her best friend, but sometimes he could be so clueless. Didn’t he see that she was scared to leave Interglobe? That it was the only job she had ever had, the only one she might be able to get? Didn’t he realize that since her parents had died in a car crash four years earlier, she had been all alone? That she had no one to depend on? Except Tommy, of course, who didn’t realize that if she quit they might drift apart? They might lose touch? Tommy, who only wanted her happiness, but didn’t seem to realize that he was the only thing that could make her happy.
“So, are you ever going to tell me what this whole diner business is about?” asked Beatrice, fishing the last of the crumbs out of her bag of potato chips with her fingers.
Tommy took a final swig of his drink and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Right,” he said, “it just so happens that you’re looking at the heir of a vast inheritance.”
“What?!” Beatrice exclaimed.
Tommy shrugged. “Well, maybe not vast exactly, actually quite small,” he said. “You see, my old uncle, Jonathon Maddus, just passed away last week. He owned this place in its heyday.”
Beatrice looked around unbelievingly. “This place had a heyday?”
“Hard to believe, right?” he said laughingly. “But apparently, this used to be a pretty busy little place. You see, if you keep straight on this road for about twenty-five more minutes, you’ll wind up in Pembleton.”
“I suppose that’s a town? I’ve never heard of it.”
He nodded. “Most people haven’t, but about thirty years ago there were three thriving factories there. A shirt company, a large commercial lumberyard, and a factory that made the foam seats that go in cars. At that time, this little road was the only way into Pembleton and from what I hear this little café was the most popular road stop for all of the truckers, workers, and businessmen coming to and from the factories.”
Beatrice surveyed her surroundings again, trying to imagine waitresses scurrying about with platters full of blue plate specials, hamburgers, or hot coffee and pie. She pictured them pausing to chat with truckers who came in every few months on their way through and flirting with rich businessmen in designer suits.
She could almost picture what it must have once been, back when its yellow walls were bright and freshly painted and the linoleum tile was still shiny and clean.
When the musty smell that hung in the air had yet to replace the inviting scent of fresh cooked food and instead of silence, the diner was filled with the sounds of chatting customers and the quiet clinking of the chef’s spatula as he flipped another batch of burgers on the grill.
“So, what happened?” she asked.
He sighed, “Usual story…two of the factories closed down, that brought business down to a dwindle, and then a highway came in on the other side of Pembleton and knocked out what little demand there was left for this diner.”
“And that was it…poor old diner.”
He held up a finger, and with a smile said, “But wait, not so fast, I’m just getting to the good part. You see, when my uncle died, he happened to leave me this place, as well the house that sits behind it.”
“But there are woods behind it.”
Tommy nodded. “My uncle was a little…peculiar, and the house is strategically built right in the middle of the woods. It’s at the bottom of a small valley so as to be completely obscured from the road.”
“But, I don’t understand….”
“What’s not to understand? I guess he had his reasons, maybe he just liked his privacy.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Not about the house. I mean I don’t understand why you invited me to meet you here, what does this have to do with me?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe I should have started with that.” He apologized. “Two reasons. The first is, after thinking it over, I’ve decided to try and open this place back up.”
“Why? I mean, it went out of business the first time, didn’t it? Why would it stay open now?”
“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but it went out of business because it was basically geared toward being a truck stop. Don’t get me wrong, I would keep the café part going, but what I really want is to turn it into is a little convenience store. It may not look like it, but there are people who live out here. Farmers mostly. I think if I could give them a convenient place to shop where they didn’t have to drive twenty-five minutes both ways, I could do pretty well.”
Beatrice looked around at the dirty, old diner. “I suppose,” she said, still unconvinced.
“Anyway, I wanted your opinion on whether or not you thought I could make it work. I really think I could, though,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve always wanted to own my own business, you know.”
Bee smiled hesitatingly, “Yes….”
“The house is already paid for, so I wouldn’t have a mortgage,” he continued.
“So, you would be moving here?” Beatrice asked in alarm. “For good?”
He nodded. “Well yes, if I was going to run the place day to day I would have too.” He looked at her earnestly. “So, what do you think? Is it a terrible idea?”
Beatrice blinked back tears that were threatening to overwhelm her; she wanted more than anything to tell him that it was a terrible idea, that it would be a silly investment of money and energy. That he should stay exactly where he was, working with her, for the rest of his life.
She smiled. “No, no of course it isn’t.”
As she saw the relieved smile spread across his face, she knew she had made the right decision. She was doubtful of the diner’s ability to succeed, but if anyone could make it work, she was confident Tommy could.
Anyway, despite the fact that she felt as though her heart would break at the very thought of him leaving, she knew that it would be wrong to crush something so obviously important to him for her own selfish reasons.
“I think it will be difficult…” she said honestly, “but not impossible. I think with a little elbow grease this place could be restored to its old charm.”
Tommy’s smiled widened. “I’m so glad you think so! I may have given the whole thing up entirely if you hadn’t,” he said.
She felt a momentary pang of regret at his comment, which, although said so casually, made her feel as though a dagger had been stuck through her chest.
“So what was the second reason?” she asked, hoping for a change of subject before Tommy noticed her distress.
“The second,” he said, holding up two of his fingers, “is a bit more difficult.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “What is it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking across at her awkwardly. “Uncle’s funeral was yesterday and all of the family came to pay their respects. What’s left of them, anyway. It seems they weren’t entirely happy about the way things were sorted out….”
“You mean, they thought you shouldn’t have inherited what you did?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”
She looked at him in confusion. “How does that concern me?”
“Well, my uncle’s last request was that all of his family to get to know each other better. Before he died he wrote this letter and left it to his lawyer, to be given to me when I inherited everything.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled up envelope. “Here, take a look at it,” he said, sliding it across the table to her.
Beatrice opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She carefully unfolded it and began to read the cramped, spidery handwriting.
Dear Thomas,
I have not always been the uncle to you that I feel I ought to have been. Do you remember when you were young, though? When I would visit your parents in the city and we would have a day out. Do you remember the day I took you to the ballpark to practice hitting??? I still chuckle to myself when I picture that poor man trying desperately t
o jump out of the way of your line drive, but he never had a chance. I regret that we did not stay in touch as you grew older, but believe it or not, all of these years I have kept track of you. Of all of my relatives (even my own children), I am proudest of you. Out of all of us, you are the only one who managed, I feel, to do what none of us could. Become a decent human being. Do you think me too hard on my relatives? Perhaps I am. It was always my wish that our family would be closer, but it was never in my power to make it so. I think, however, that if anyone can do it, it is you. With your honor and heart, I know you will carry out my wishes. I have given you my most treasured of possessions. My only request is this: on February 14, you hold a dinner party for our closest relatives. After all, is there a better day than Valentine’s Day to make amends? That is it. One day is all I ask you to sacrifice in respect for your dear old uncle. The guest list has been made and the invitations taken care of. I have even done the service of hiring catering for that night. All you have to do is show up.
Love your dear uncle,
Jonathon
Beatrice finished reading the letter and looked up at Tommy. “How odd,” she said, handing the letter back to him and watching as he stuffed it back into his pocket.
“I know, what kind of a request is that!?” he fretted. “Having everyone over to the house tonight for a dinner party? What could I do, refuse to host it? Of course I couldn’t. I mean, what kind of an ungrateful, greedy little…” he trailed off, sighing. “Well, you see my predicament.”
She shook her head. “Not really, no… and still don’t see where I fit in.”
“You know how shy and awkward I am around people I don’t know well,” he said. “Now, imagine me trying to host a dinner for a bunch of people I hardly know who think I’ve stolen their rightful property and who barely try to conceal their detest and hatred for me.”
“I see your point,” she admitted.
