by Paula Matter
“Sam?” I whispered, careful to not let JC hear me. “C’mon.” I took his arm. Michael jumped up and took Sam’s other arm. Together we led Sam up to the bar and helped him onto one of the stools. Michael stayed with him while I hurried into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Sam’s color seemed to be returning to normal after a couple more minutes. He sipped at the water I’d handed him. The shaking also had stopped.
“Whew, you scared me there for a second, Sam. You okay now?”
“That sonofabitch.” He eyed the closed door of his office. “That miserable, good for nothing mother—”
“Whoa, Sam, don’t let yourself get all riled up again.” Silently, I agreed with Sam and happily would join in on his rant, but his physical reaction scared me. I patted him gently on the back. “You okay now?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He took another sip, then put the glass down on the bar. Still looking at the office door, he said, “It’s been hell around here lately. They’re making all these damn changes … making me work two jobs … You guys better go. If he comes out here—”
“Okay, Sam, not a problem. Maggie, let’s go.” Michael took hold of my elbow and started to lead me away. I glanced once more at Sam to make sure he was back to normal. He seemed to be, and I eagerly went with Michael.
“Can we just sit here a minute?” I asked once we got settled in Michael’s car. “I don’t care if JC does see us out here. He can’t complain if we’re outside.”
“Sure,” Michael said. “Besides, it’ll give me the time I need to look over these.”
I looked at him to see what he was talking about. “Oh, sheesh, Michael! Are you nuts? Those belong to the club. If JC knew—”
“Calm down.” He shook the sheets of paper. “I’ll just say I slipped them into my jacket pocket when it looked like Sam needed medical attention. ‘I did it without even realizing. I’m sorry.’ How’s that sound?”
I’d never seen his devilish grin before. Cute in a bad-boy kind of way, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Then again, it was much better than the stormy look I’d gotten earlier.
“Let’s just look at them real quick and we’ll give them back to Sam later. JC will never know what happened.” He handed me the pages and I immediately went to the last page for Friday night. I was right in remembering who was there at closing. And it looked like the same guys were there at closing the next night when Abby worked.
“Damn. This wasn’t at all useful. The same people are in the same time every night.” I looked out the windshield at the building where I’d worked these past five years. The place where I’d made friends. And enemies. The place I’d felt welcomed, secure, and, for the most part, happy. It was more than just a paycheck. It was a friggin’ reason to get out of bed every day after Rob died.
“That didn’t help at all, and now we’ve managed to piss off JC. And did you see the smug expression on Pam’s face?”
“Why was Pam there?”
“She goes in every Saturday morning to go over the Ladies Auxiliary books and paperwork.”
“But, I thought Diane was the treasurer,” Michael said.
“Yeah, but as the president, Pam has to control everything. You should’ve seen her at last year’s Ladies Aux bake sale. After another lady had arranged and organized who was bringing what, Pam went right behind her back and called them all over again.”
“Funny how JC just appeared. I didn’t hear him, did you?” Michael asked.
“No, and JC’s usually the noisy one, not like Dick who suddenly seems to show up.”
Turning my eyes away from the building, I repeated, “Damn, I can’t believe all this is happening. Oh, hey, I forgot to ask you if we could stop by Jack’s. It’s been a couple days since the cat’s been fed.”
“Sure, it’s close by, isn’t it?”
I gave him directions and stared out the window as he drove the few minutes to Jack’s rundown little house. When we got there I told him I’d be right back. I sprinted across the yard.
Happy to find the key still under the now dead plant, I got in with no problem. The cat made a brief appearance when it heard the sound of dry food hitting its plastic dish. I rinsed out, then refilled the water bowl and emptied the litter box. That out of the way, I needed to be quick and check Jack’s closet. I peeked out the front window, saw Michael still sitting in the car. I rushed to Jack’s room and swung open the closet door. A dozen or so shirts and slacks on hangers, a few pairs of shoes on the floor. The shelf above looked bare, but I had to make sure.
I dragged a chair from the kitchen, climbed up, and sure enough, the damn shelf was empty. I climbed down off the chair and brought it back to the kitchen. The notebooks had to be here somewhere. Sam once told me Jack had been writing in them since he’d known him, forty years or more. Plus, the notebook Jack had brought to the meeting when he accused the Reids of cheating on the daily book was old. I felt certain Jack never threw them out. And the one he was writing in more recently—what happened to it? I know he had it on Friday night, the last time I saw him. I closed my eyes. He had it on Saturday too when I picked up my paycheck.
I went back to close the closet door. The cat had jumped up on the bed and lay curled up on Jack’s pillow, softly purring.
Under the bed. One hand on the bed, I knelt down and looked. Nothing. The cat stretched, got up, and came over. It brushed its cheek against my hand. I’d have to call the SPCA in the next day or so and let them do something about the cat. No way could I take it. I couldn’t even get a grip on my own life let alone take care of something else. This was not the time.
Terrific. Here came today’s tears. The cat nuzzled closer. I scratched its ear and let the crying take over. Then I jumped a foot in the air when a voice sounded just a few feet behind me.
“Did you look under the mattress?”
Michael stood in the doorway. I caught my breath and wiped the tears off my face as I scrambled to my feet.
“What?”
“I asked if you’d looked under the mattress. You were taking so long, I figured you were up to something.” He came over to me. “You’d be surprised at how many people think that’s a good hiding place. You take that corner.” He gently shooed the cat off the bed and we lifted the mattress.
Sonofabitch. A curled up red spiral notebook. I grabbed it.
“Now, let’s get out of here.”
I locked the door, replaced the key, and followed Michael to the car, clutching the notebook the whole time.
“What are you going to do about the cat?” Michael asked.
I shrugged. “Probably call the SPCA. Do you want it?”
“Sorry, Chris is allergic. Why don’t you keep it?”
Could I? I shook my head at the thought. I couldn’t even get through a day without crying. I wondered what would happen to it if I did bring it to the pound. And that of course brought on another onslaught of tears. I closed my gritty eyes and turned my head toward my window so Michael wouldn’t see.
Twenty-Four
“I need pie,” I told Michael after we’d driven in silence for a few minutes.
“Pie? It’s not even ten in the morning.”
“I don’t care. I want pie. Let’s go to Sally’s Diner. She’s probably pulling fresh blueberry, or apple, or peach pies out of the oven right now.”
“Sally’s it is.”
I hadn’t opened my eyes, but I knew he was smiling at me. I heard it in his voice.
My favorite booth wasn’t available and I resisted the urge to kick out the people who’d dared to sit in it. Saturday mornings must be the day for the whole town to be out and about. I’d never seen Sally’s so busy. A scrawny busboy hopped from table to table, piling dirty dishes into his tub, wiping down the tables as he went. A waitress with bright green hair, plates stacked on her arms, served customers as fast as she could. Sh
e reminded me of myself twenty years ago. I checked out the bakery display case. Michael and I waited close to ten minutes for two stools to open up at the counter.
Sally herself waited on us. If Bobby Lee was the Michelin Man, Sally was Mrs. Michelin. Short strands of gray hair poked out from her black hairnet, and she pulled a pencil from behind one ear to take our order. She rattled off the daily specials and scowled when I asked for a slice of banana cream pie and coffee. Her frown deepened when Michael just ordered coffee.
“Have y’all eaten breakfast this morning?” Sally asked.
I shook my head and Michael told her he’d had toast.
“Nope.” Sally shook her head and poised her pencil on the pad she held in her chubby hand. “That ain’t breakfast. Now, what’ll y’all have?”
Michael and I both ordered the egg special. She seemed happy with that and went off to place our order.
He chuckled and said, “Guess we’re having breakfast.”
I giggled. “Looks that way.” I reached for the sugar and dumped some in my coffee mug. Michael drank his black. In a matter of minutes, Sally set two plates heaping with fried eggs, bacon, home fries, buttered toast, and unasked-for grits before each of us.
“That looks good,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
Sally smirked and topped off our coffee. I savored each and every bite. Michael and I ate and drank in silence. I scraped the last remaining egg off of my plate with a last bite of toast. Sally whizzed by, grabbed my plate, and plopped down a piece of banana cream pie.
“Now, you can have some of my pie. You earned it.”
I groaned.
“Shoot, sugar, a little thing like you can do it.” She winked at Michael and asked, “And what about you, handsome? Can I get you anything else? Or do you reckon she’ll share some of that pie with you?”
“I can only hope, ma’am, I can only hope,” he said.
“Ooh, manners. I like that—being called ma’am, and from a Yankee no less.” She smiled at him. “Ain’t that sweet? He blushes too.” Sally moved on down to wait on another customer.
“How’d she know I’m a Yankee?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I licked some whipped cream from my fork. “Say ‘shit.’”
“Shit.”
“Yankee. Say it with two syllables and you’ll have a chance at becoming one of us.”
“I’ll work on it.”
I laughed and felt a lot better than I had an hour earlier. “So, now what? Time to—”
“Shh,” he answered.
Huh? Having learned a thing or two about him, I did as he said and shut up. Sure enough, I overheard Sally talking to another customer a few stools down from us.
“Well, I still say it’s a shame. No matter how mean or ornery he was, he didn’t deserve to go and get himself murdered like that.”
The man Sally was talking to shook his head and said, “Of course he didn’t deserve it, Sally. All I’m saying is I’m surprised it took someone so long. Hell, you know how he was.”
“I knew Jack Hoffman all my life. It was only the last fifty years or so that he turned mean. And, hell, who can blame him after what happened?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m right about most things, Hank. Best you remember that. Now, you want more coffee?” Without waiting for his answer, Sally filled his cup then moved on down the counter.
“Interesting,” I said quietly to Michael. “We need to ask her some questions.”
He simply nodded.
“Well, call her down here.” I was ready to jump up and flag her down myself. Sally knew Jack, according to her, all her life. Michael just sat there and sipped his coffee. God, the man was infuriating sometimes. How could he sit there so calmly, so damn quietly when the answer could be right in front of us?
“She’ll be here in a minute. Be patient.”
I growled at him and before I knew it, Sally stood before us. She refilled our mugs and handed Michael the check.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and put a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Ooh, Yankee, you’re gonna win my heart over yet. Manners and money.” She looked at me, winked, and said, “Good combination in a man, sugar.”
“I was wondering if you could help me,” Michael said.
Sally leaned forward on the counter. “Yankee, I’d do just about anything for you right now. What is it?”
“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about Jack Hoffman. I take it you knew him pretty well?”
“Shoot, me and Jack practically grew up together. Course, he was a number of years older than me, but yeah, I knew him real well.”
“I know this isn’t any of my business, but what did you mean about after what happened to him? If you don’t mind telling me, ma’am.”
“Oh, it ain’t no secret. Jack Hoffman was a good man. Fought in Korea when he was just seventeen. He brought Joon-Lee home with him, and they got married soon as he came home. Life seemed real good for them.”
“Did they have any children?” I asked. “A daughter, maybe? Named Gayle. Or Abigail?”
Before she could answer, the telephone rang. “Be right back.”
“Damn.” I bounced on my stool and watched her walk away.
Under his breath, Michael muttered, “Patience, Maggie, patience. Here she comes.”
“Damn kids. What’s wrong with ’em nowadays? When I was young, I was grateful to have a job. Showed up on time every day, worked late when I needed to. Shoot.”
“What happened?”
Sally waved her arm at the phone. “Oh, that dang night girl. Lazy as all get out. Calling off sick again. Second Saturday night in a row—can you imagine?”
“That’s a shame. It’s obvious how hard you work to keep this place going.”
I wanted to kick him. The hell with all this. Let’s get back to Jack and his story.
She looked at me and said, “I hear you’re out of work, Maggie. You want a job? Night shift, five to five, weekends, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, minimum wage, no benefits. All the food you can eat for free.”
My mouth dropped open. “Waitressing here? I’d love that.”
“Nope, I just hired a waitress for day shift, and my girl on nights has been with me for years. I’m looking for a cook.”
“Oh.” I wanted to kick something. “I can’t cook.”
She shook her head at me. “Damn kids.”
I think she was referring to me.
“Shoot, I may have to stop being open twenty-four hours if this keeps up. No way I can work another double like I did last weekend. Too hard on this old woman. Not to mention how I almost missed church.” She shook her head again. “And the Lord always comes first.”
“Amen.”
“You making fun of me, Yankee?”
“No, ma’am, not at all. Of course not,” Michael stammered out the words.
I wondered if he felt like a damn kid now. I planned on keeping my mouth shut.
“Least it wasn’t a total waste. I got some good cleaning done Saturday night in between customers.”
“Business good on Saturday nights?” he asked.
“I reckon. Mostly drunks, but they didn’t stay long once they seen I was working. I won’t put up with rowdiness and they all know it. Still, I was glad to see JC was close by if I needed a man to help me out.”
“JC?”
Sally nodded her head toward the front of the restaurant. “Now, I know you know who I’m talking about, sugar. I don’t reckon his store was open, but he was in there that night.”
Michael asked, “Saturday night? What time?”
“Since it was after all the bars closed, I suppose I should say Sunday morning. About two thirt
y or so. I seen the lights go out about ten, fifteen minutes later. No idea what the man was doing there that time of night, but it’s his store and I reckon I don’t have a say in the matter.”
“Have you ever seen him in his store that late before?”
“Now, Yankee, I already said I don’t usually work nights, so what makes you think I’d know a thing like that? Shoot.” She turned to me and said, “Okay, sugar, what were you asking about Jack?”
“Did he have a daughter named Gayle?” I wanted to keep my questions short to lessen any chances of being scolded. She was reminding me of somebody.
“Naw, Jack and Joon, they had a little boy.” She pursed her lips and seemed deep in thought. “Can’t rightly remember the child’s name. Joon-Lee up and left after what happened. Nearly broke the man’s heart. Terrible thing. He never was the same after that.”
“That’s so sad. Why’d she leave?”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re new here.” Sally winked at Michael and said, “You too. Well, seeing as how it was all over the news way back then, it won’t hurt to tell y’all now. Wait. It just came to me. The child’s name was Daryl. Yeah, that’s it.” She tapped the side of her head with an index finger. “Sharp as a tack, this old mind of mine. Watching Jeopardy! every night with my sister keeps us both sharp. Course after Jeopardy’s over, there ain’t much worth watching. Thank goodness for TV Land and good old wholesome television. Oh, shoot, I’ll have to call and tell her I won’t be home tonight. Damn kids.” She looked from us to the people waiting for seats, then shuffled over to the phone, refilling coffee mugs along the way.
“Do you think we’ll ever find out what happened to Jack and his wife? What’s the terrible thing that happened?” I asked Michael. “Hey, you have a pen? I want to see something.” I pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and wrote down Gayle and then Daryl. Yeah, it was easy to see how Brenda and I had come up with Gayle. Damn. So much for my theory of Abby being short for Abigail. Not that it made too much sense to me now, considering it would’ve had to’ve been Abigayle. Whatever. This detective work wasn’t easy. I crumpled up the napkin and handed the pen back to Michael.
