Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 01 - Bogey Nights

by Marja McGraw

  “What was that reporter’s name – the one we had to deal with last year when that other murder happened?” Chris asked. “I’ll bet we could get her to do a story about the new place. Maybe we could talk her into coming in to see how we refurbish it and sort of follow the process.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I said. “Her name was Sharon, but I don’t remember her last name. I’ll call the newspaper and get a phone number for her.”

  “Good idea,” Chris said. “And you’re right about keeping busy. Let’s go see this place while Mikey’s still in school. We can take him to see it later, if we buy it. Get the dogs and let’s go.”

  “You know we shouldn’t have had the dogs at the restaurant,” I said, “but if we hadn’t taken them, Luis might have died in the fire.”

  “They were never near the food,” Chris said. “They were in the office in the back. I have to admit though, it’s a good thing we didn’t close the door or they couldn’t have gotten out. And it’s a good thing the Health Department didn’t know they were there.”

  I reminded Chris that we needed to clean up before we went anywhere, and that he should probably call the Realtor to see if we could meet him and get inside to see what we’d be working with if we took it. I rubbed my eyes, deciding to use some drops to see if I could get rid of the redness.

  “You’re the brains in this outfit, shweetheart,” he said, slipping into his Bogey persona. “I don’t know what I’d do without ya.” He curled his upper lip under again before giving me his best Bogey smile.

  “And don’t you forget it,” I replied, smiling back. “Last night you said you were the brains.”

  ***

  We arrived at the new location a couple of hours before time to pick Mikey up at school. The Realtor was waiting for us.

  “Okay, Bogey Man,” I said, surveying the building. “This isn’t a restaurant. It’s a brick house. An old brick house. I thought you were taking me to see a restaurant site. Would you like to explain?”

  His face beamed. “Picture this with a big sign out in front. We’ll convert it to a restaurant and bar.”

  “You make that sound so easy. There’s so much to look into,” I said. “Zoning – ”

  “Already checked. Look around you. Do you see any other homes? No? That’s because this was rezoned to a commercial district.”

  “Oh. But we’d have to renovate – ”

  “I’ve already talked to Big D about that,” Chris replied. “He’ll help us. All we have to do is invite him to a barbeque and he’ll take the job. Well, maybe we’d have to invite a single woman for him to meet, too.”

  Big D is a friend of Chris’s who happens to be a contractor, and his name is Davey. He also happens to be a really big guy. He’s gruff, but that comes with a gentle giant shyness. He isn’t always comfortable in social situations.

  “I know there are other issues, but I’ll have to think about all of this. Have you seen the inside yet?”

  He looked sheepish. “Yes. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I knew more about it. I knew I wanted out of the other location, but I sure didn’t expect to get out of it this way.”

  “Uh huh. How many square feet is it?”

  “Over two thousand.” The Realtor walked over to meet us when we climbed out of the car. He and Chris shook hands.

  “Pamela, this is Max Avery,” Chris said, introducing us. “I met with Max about a month ago and told him I might be interested in this building.”

  “In a couple of days it’s going into foreclosure,” Max said. “I’m not sure why the current owner even bought it. Maybe as an investment. He never lived here.”

  Max was eager for a sale. I could see it in his pudgy little face. And he was smiling way too widely, but at least it was a pleasant smile. He was a short man who had to look up at Chris, and Chris was about five-ten.

  Sherlock and Watson watched us from the car. Sherlock had a worried look on his face and I knew what the meant. “Excuse me. I’ve got to let the dogs have a potty break.”

  Chris and Max nodded and turned to head for the brick house. While the dogs did their business, I took a good look at the exterior of the place. It had potential. There were two mature oak trees, one on each side in front of the house, and it had a large, open porch in front that ran the width of the dwelling. There were two pillars, one at each end, and two in the middle of the porch with one step leading up. A walkway ran from the sidewalk to the porch step. The porch would be just right for a few tables for outdoor dining when the weather permitted. The lawn, what there was of it, needed a lot of work, and anything even resembling a plant was dead. Oh well, I enjoyed yard work. And the oak trees seemed to be okay. I shook my head, realizing that I’d better see the inside before even thinking about visiting a nursery and buying plants. And realistically, we’d probably need to hire a landscaper.

  I walked around the house to get a feel for the place and discovered a door that apparently led under the house. I assumed there was a cellar or something along those lines. I’d ask Max about it.

  Since Chris and Max had already entered the house, I whistled to the dogs, who were busily sniffing the trees, and they came running, following me into the house. For such young dogs, they were quite well-behaved – usually. At two and a half, they responded well to training. Of course, we’d started training them as soon as we brought them home. Labs are great dogs, but they’re big and strong, and sometimes headstrong. They make up for that with love and loyalty. I think it was the headstrong part that caused their previous owners to let us have them.

  I entered a living room and, looking around, noticed that there was a bedroom off to the side and a dining room straight ahead through an archway. There were built-in book cases on either side of the arch. I could hear Chris talking and followed his voice, which led me into a kitchen.

  The floors were all hardwood and would probably be beautiful, with a lot of hard work. They’d been neglected for a long time, from the looks of them. Layers of faded wallpaper adorned the walls. Hmm. If it was forties style, maybe some new wallpaper would work. That and a lot of fresh paint. Although our restaurant would be from that era, I was pretty sure the house was older than that.

  “When was this house built?” I asked.

  “In the late 1920s,” Chris replied. It seemed he had done his homework. “This used to be a residential area. Come on, Pamela. Let’s look through the rest of the house.”

  Max led the way, still grinning. There were a total of four bedrooms in the house and two bathrooms. At the rear of the house sat a master bedroom with a walk-in closet. I opened the door and looked inside. I could tell that renovations had already been done to the house, but obviously a very long time ago. And a house this size, built in the twenties, must have been built by someone with money.

  “Max,” I said, “I noticed a door outside, near the rear of the house. Where does it lead to?”

  “There’s a cellar back there, but it was never finished. It’s pretty dirty down there. Do you want to see it or would you rather wait until you’re dressed for dirty?”

  I laughed. “Now is good.”

  Chris and Max walked outside and around the house with me. I lifted the door and two large dogs raced past me and flew down the stairs.

  “Hey, you two. Come back here!” I had no idea what was in the cellar, but images of spiders and mice ran through my mind’s eye.

  “There’s a light down there,” Max said, “but the electricity isn’t on right now.”

  “I’ve got a flashlight in the car,” Chris said. “Be right back.”

  A cellar would make a perfect place to store things once we finished it off. I wondered how much work it would require. I envisioned shelves for storage and maybe a section for wine and other liquors. It would need sturdier doors, too.

  “So you and your husband want to convert this house into a restaurant?” Max asked.

  “That’s the general idea,” I replied. “It seems like we’d have
an awful lot of work to do to make that happen though.”

  I waited impatiently while Chris was gone, worried about Sherlock and Watson. I felt really antsy when I heard Watson begin to whine.

  “What’s going on down there?” I called, wishing they could answer me. It was too dark to enter the basement.

  Chris returned with a flashlight and turned it on, carefully climbing downstairs. I followed close behind him. “What’s wrong with the dogs?” he asked.

  “I have no idea, but let’s get them out of here.”

  Chris turned the light on the dogs and Watson was scratching at a patch of cement in the corner of the cellar. There was a large old barrel sitting on top of it. I wondered if something might have leaked out of the bottom. I noticed another patch on the other side of the cellar. It appeared that at some point in time someone had thought about finishing off the cellar.

  “Watson, leave it,” Chris ordered. Leave it was a command we’d learned when training them, along with take it. It was a good lesson in patience for them.

  Not only did Watson ignore Chris, but Sherlock began whining, too, and the scratching continued.

  “Out,” Chris ordered. “Right now!” He was using his authoritative voice, but the dogs weren’t listening. He grabbed Sherlock’s collar and pulled. He repeated his command and the dog reluctantly obeyed, heading for the stairs. Watson was more stubborn, but finally obeyed and followed Sherlock.

  I felt like all the time and energy we’d spent training them had been a waste, but they usually obeyed us.

  “I wonder what that was all about,” I said.

  “Probably a dead body buried down here,” Chris said.

  “Not funny, Bogey Man.”

  He smiled at my use of his nickname. “I was joking. Those dogs are always getting into things. If we buy this place I’ll get rid of the barrel and that should solve the problem.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said.

  Chapter Three

  Chris and I spent the next couple of days discussing the pros and cons of buying the house and converting it into a restaurant. I don’t know if the pros actually won out or not, but it was something we really wanted to do. We’d had a taste of the restaurant business and liked it. I had to chuckle when we talked about it because part of the reason I enjoyed it was that I was a boss, not a waitress. Continuing on with that same train of thought, I knew how to treat our waiters and waitresses because of my background. I knew what a hard, physical job it was, and many times there wasn’t much compensation. No matter how well you treated a customer, sometimes they could be downright nasty, and sometimes they just didn’t tip. And the base wage isn’t all that great. Tips make a difference.

  The brick house went into foreclosure, as predicted, and we made a bid on it. Even after Chris’s savings and the insurance money were used, we’d still need to take out a small loan, the key word being small. If we’d had to borrow a larger sum, we couldn’t have followed through with the restaurant. The problem was that we’d have to use part of Chris’s savings to live on while we set up the new restaurant, and that would leave us short.

  I was happy because Chris and I were able to spend more time with Mikey than normal. My son was growing up and I didn’t want to miss any more of him than I had to. We could take the dogs to work with us, but Mikey needed his sleep. We couldn’t keep him up at night. I counted my blessings that Constance was so willing to stay with my son.

  One rainy day I let Mikey stay home from school because he said he felt like he was coming down with a cold. He wanted to go see the brick house, but I told him we’d have to wait until we knew if it was ours or not. He settled for helping me bake cookies and then sneaking a few to Sherlock and Watson. My son and the Labs were inseparable. He rolled on the floor and the dogs licked his face and tickled him. There was a lot of giggling and washing of face and hands that day. And the cold “miraculously” disappeared. Chris almost missed the fun because he was out running errands, but he arrived home in time to share cookies and milk with his stepson and two worn out dogs.

  “There’s no mistaking that Mikey’s your son,” Chris said. “His hair is dark blonde instead of auburn, but he’s definitely got your green eyes. He’s got your cute nose and ears, too.”

  “Chriiiiiis,” Mikey said, annoyed. “Boys don’t have cute noses and ears.”

  “My mistake,” Chris said, grinning. “So I like your ugly nose and big ears.” He laughed and Mikey laughed with him.

  “Okay, Chris, you can call them just a plain nose and plain ears,” my son said, “and you can like them if you want to.”

  The dogs had perked up when they heard the laughter and sauntered back into the kitchen to see what was going on. The man and boy looked at each other before grabbing two cookies and tossing them to Sherlock and Watson.

  “Chris?” Mikey’s tone of voice caught my attention. He sounded very serious. I glanced at him quickly before turning away to give the impression that I was minding my own business. He’d been studying the backs of his hands.

  “Yes,” Chris said.

  “Ummm, would it be okay if I called you Dad instead of Chris?”

  I had to fight back tears. My son had never mentioned this desire to me. It touched me to my very core. Chris and I had discussed him adopting Mikey, but we’d been waiting for the right time to approach my son.

  “I’d be honored,” Chris replied, after clearing his throat. There was a decided catch in his voice. “But this means I can tell people you’re my son instead of my stepson, right?”

  “I’d be honored,” Mikey mimicked.

  I left the room in a hurry. I knew if Mikey saw my tears he’d be embarrassed. “Got to run to the ladies’ room,” I said, leaving the room. I pulled myself together and blew my nose before returning to the kitchen.

  “Mom, is that okay with you?”

  “Nothing would make me happier,” I replied, before hugging both of the men in my life.

  The phone rang and Chris got up to answer it. Sherlock raced him to the phone and slid into the wall. He was a big dog, and there was a loud thud. If dogs have expressions, then his was one of embarrassment. He shook his head a few times and stood quietly next to Chris, who glanced at the dog like he was an idiot – the dog, that is.

  It turned out to be a political recording and Chris hung up in disgust. “Didn’t we put our number on that Do Not Call list?”

  “Yes, but I’m don’t think that list applies to politicians.”

  Watson sat innocently by Mikey’s feet, licking her paw. She didn’t even take note of Sherlock when he sat next to her, ignoring him completely.

  At dinner that night Mikey told his dad that they were having a Father and Son event at school, and would he please come with him.

  I’d swear Chris’s chest puffed up when he agreed. “Is that why you want to call me dad?”

  “No, sir, I just want you to be my dad. I didn’t know my real father, you know. I was too little when he got sick.”

  Mikey turned to me. “Sorry, Mom, but this thing at school is only for sons and fathers.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie. I hope you two have a good time. When is it?”

  “In a few weeks, right before we get out of school for the summer.”

  That night Chris and I received extra big hugs at bedtime. We left Mikey’s room and discussed adoption again. Relationships were turning corners in our house, and my emotions were off the charts.

  ***

  Before too much time went by we found out that our bid was accepted and the house was ours. And a new adventure began.

  I called Sharon Stone, our newspaper connection, and told her what we were doing. She was interested and wanted to talk to us about it.

  Chris got the keys to the house and Big D met us there.

  “Okay, this means you’re going to introduce me to one of your friends, right?” Big D asked in his gravelly voice.

  Chris is five foot ten, like I said, I’m five foot five, and
Big D is six feet and four inches tall. He’s blonde with a husky build and powder blue eyes. We both looked up at him. Davey was younger than we were, probably around twenty-eight or so. He and Chris had met when Chris worked as a mail carrier. Davey was on his route. They’d run into each other at a bar one night and had a beer together, and a friendship formed.

  “Yes,” I said, “I know a woman named Myrna whom I think you’d really like. And I think she’d like you. Excuse me, but her name is really Gloria. She resembles Myrna Loy.”

  “Who?” Big D asked.

  “Watch an old movie once in a while, ya big lug,” Chris said. “It might open a few doors for you. Maybe broaden your horizons.”

  “Oh. She was an actress?” Big D looked confused.

  “Yes,” I said. “Well, Myrna was, but Gloria isn’t. And she’s as cute as a… Well, she’s cute. Take my word for it. Although, she’s awfully short for you.”

  “I like short women.” Big D and Chris left me standing there and walked toward the house.

  “Okay, we’re off and running,” I said to myself, following them inside.

  Mikey was at school and we’d left the dogs at home so they wouldn’t be under foot. We had a lot of planning to do and didn’t need distractions.

  We showed Big D where we wanted to locate the kitchen, which was where the master bedroom was currently located, in the rear of the house. We wanted to take out some walls and one bathroom. We’d decided that the remaining bathroom and the closet next to it could be upgraded for the public restrooms.

  Big D had other ideas. Since this would be a restaurant, we’d have to have a rear exit. Consequently, he suggested we add a hallway to the left of the kitchen and add the public restrooms there.

  There were three bedrooms located on the right side of the house. I wanted to convert the rear of them into an office, but Big D convinced me that a smaller office located by the kitchen would work better. I complained that from time to time I wanted to bring the dogs in with me and Davey said he would add an outside entrance to the office so the dogs wouldn’t be near the food. If we removed the exiting restroom and closet that were located by the bedrooms and knocked out a few walls, we could use the current three bedroom area for a bar and dance floor. There would be two entrances – one at the front where the bar would be located and a diagonal entrance by the dance floor where we would remove walls. We could place tables between the two.