Free Whack 'n' Roll by Gail Oust Page B

hadn’t eaten since breakfast. A glance at my watch showed me it was later than I had thought. Somehow I wasn’t in the mood to cook. A common occurrence since Jim passed away. My freezer is filled with frozen dinners and, my favorite standby, gourmet pizzas. Neither held any appeal tonight. On the spur of the moment, I decided to get a bite at the Cove Café.
    By the time I got there, except for two couples at a table near the window, the café was deserted. Most folks on fixed incomes like to take advantage of the early-bird specials. That time was long past. I parked myself at a corner table and looked around.
    No sign of Marcy—good. No sign of Vera either—bad.
    Beverly, a waitress I knew slightly, greeted me with a tired smile and handed me a menu.
    “A slow night, Beverly?” I like to address people by their given names whenever possible. Gets a bit tricky at times with those darn senior moments popping up when you least expect them. Those memory cells in the brain just don’t cough up information like they used to. It takes a while, but eventually stuff does float back. I heard as long as that happens, not to worry. It’s when those names and places don’t come back—ever—that you’re in deep doo-doo.
    “It was busier than usual early on. Seems all folks want to do is talk about that thing some ladies found out on the golf course.”
    “Ah, yes, the thing .” Had thing become the new catch-phrase for it ?
    “What can I get you to drink?”
    “Coffee,” I said, then reconsidered. “Better make that decaf.” I didn’t need another sleepless night while waiting for the Sandman to arrive.
    Beverly left and returned minutes later with my decaf. “Have you decided what to order?”
    “What do you recommend?”
    “There’s still some meat loaf special left.”
    “Sounds good.” Comfort food. Just the ticket.
    The occupants of the window table got ready to leave. The men signed their tabs and pocketed their credit cards, and the couples left together amid promises to get together soon.
    After placing my order, Beverly returned and began clearing the table. She looked my way. “Your dinner should be out in a jiff.”
    “No hurry. I’ve got all night.”
    The instant the words were out, I wished them back. The poor woman looked dead on her feet. “Sorry. How insensitive of me. You probably can’t wait to lock up for the night.”
    “Take your time. Customers or not, management insists we stay open till nine.” She slowly made her way back toward the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes.
    I took a sip of coffee and decided to take advantage of the situation. This would be the perfect opportunity for an impromptu investigation. I’d rest easier tonight knowing Vera was somewhere enjoying herself.
    “Looks like it’s been a long day,” I said when Beverly returned with my meat loaf.
    “You can say that again. I pulled a double.”
    I looked at Beverly more closely. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties with a liberal amount of gray mixed in with the brown strands. The smudges under her eyes were too dark to be hidden by concealer. I’d bet she’d like nothing better than to kick off her shoes and put up her feet. “I assume working a double means you pulled an extra shift?”
    “One of the girls who works breakfast and lunch needed time off. Left us shorthanded.”
    I dipped my fork into the mashed potatoes. “You mean Vera?” I asked with studied innocence.
    “Yeah.” Beverly started collecting salt and pepper shakers from the various tables. “Vera didn’t give much notice, but since she’s been here the longest, management decided not to make a stink.”
    “My friends and I wondered what happened to her. The new girl, Marcy, kept mixing up our orders.”
    Beverly grunted. “Don’t surprise me none. Marcy isn’t cut out to be a waitress.”
    I heartily agreed, but didn’t voice my opinion out loud. With the kind of service Marcy provided, she’d starve to death if she had to