Mustard on Top (16 page)

“Sure, but I’ll need to leave about five for Emma’s sister’s party. She’s turning fourteen.” Theo rolled his eyes.

Ben smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

****

At three in the afternoon, usually prime downtime for Hot Diggitys, when they cleaned the lunch mess and prepped for dinner, a line ran down the boardwalk. Helen and two employees had been filling orders nonstop. Added to the strangeness, was the number of people getting food and leaving rather than enjoying the ocean and sun.

Exhaustion bearing down on her, Helen slid an order to a group of college-aged girls seated along the counter.

“Hey pretty lady,” someone said, and Helen jerked her gaze up. Seth stood feet away, his intense gaze drinking her in. 

Helen squirmed under his scrutiny, and tried to greet him warmly. “Hi Seth.”

“You ready for tomorrow?” Seth asked.

“Tomorrow?”

“Our jump.”

Helen tensed. She’d conveniently forgotten their damned wager. When she’d agreed to it, she’d thought Seth was joking. The deal had come after he’d asked her out for the umpteenth time. She’d pointed out he had many lovers and becoming one of a harem was not appealing. Seth had offered to give them all up for a month for one date.

‘Whatever,” she’d quipped. Eager to strike a deal, Seth set the terms. He’d be celibate thirty days, at the end Helen would go skydiving with him. Not believing he could give up women, Helen had agreed in jest. She couldn’t go back on her word, although the thought of skydiving terrified her.

“Oh, that,” Helen said.

“The flight’s set for eight. You want to drive together?”

Helen glanced at the line. “Can we talk later?”

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30 in the morning, okay?”

Helen sighed. She ought to get it over with. “Fine. Fine. Do you want to order anything?”

He did. Helen filled his order, then the next, then the next. If anything, the line had grown longer. Helen had worked through her lunch break, and her stomach grumbled. Time seemed to melt when they were busy, and soon the sun was dipping low in the sky. Helen turned from the register, and slammed into Ben. She bounced off, and he caught her arm and steadied her.

“Sorry,” Ben said.

She was grateful he was in a work uniform. “It was my fault. Is Theo with you?”

“He had plans with Emma, I told him I’d cover his shift. What can I do to help?”

Superman couldn’t catch them up. “Fill a couple of orders and then start bussing.”

****

Agatha had spent the afternoon lounging on a blanket with Moe and munching the cheese, crackers, and fresh fruit he’d brought. They’d people watched and talked while a vision of Jeremy hovered in her conscience, pleading with her to pay the man. Even with the mental distraction, Moe entertained Agatha by fabricating lies. She wondered if he knew a certain vein in his forehead bulged when he spoke untruths.

While they’d carried on banal conversations, Agatha had gathered bits and pieces of his life, useful information she’d use later. At dusk, Agatha announced it was time he took her home. She’d planted cameras throughout her house, hoping to gather hard evidence. She planned to lure Moe inside, the trick would be getting him to admit his guilt on film.

Moe drove her home, and gentleman that he was, he walked her to her door. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?” Agatha asked.

An impish grin on his face, Moe said, “I would enjoy that.”

“Very good.” Agatha slid her key into the lock. The key turned too easily, and her stomach churned. She hesitated a moment, trying to decide whether she’d left the door unlocked. She hadn’t, she decided and pushed the door open, stepped inside, and flicked on the light.

Puffs of white furniture filling, papers, and broken dishes were strewn throughout. A shard of light coming off the living room floor caught her attention.

Moe spoke, “What in the—”

“Stop.” She held her palm toward him. Agatha struggled to steady her nerves as she entered the living room. Her settee lay on its side with gashes through the fabric. Her prized mirror that had been in her family for three generations was in pieces scattered across the floor.

Agatha clenched her teeth. At least the perpetrators would have been caught on film. She wanted to catch the big fish, she wanted to take Moe out. She pivoted and faced him. He stood in the entryway, looking like a kid who’d been caught snatching candy.

“This is—”

Agatha cut him off with the slice of her hand. She stepped closer, grasped his hand, and pulled him into the living room, in full view of the cameras.

“This is terrible.” Moe got the sentence out.

“It looks like I had a visit. From your friends perhaps?” She looked up at him.

“My friends?”

“Can we cut the baloney.” Agatha said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Clever Moe. I’m impressed with your acting,” Agatha answered.

Moe outstretched his massive hands, palm up, and shrugged.

“Uh huh. What was your motive? Obviously, Jeremy isn’t hiding in the mirror. Why’d your hooligans break my mirror?”

A reluctant smile quivered on Moe’s lips. His amusement overwhelmed his acting skills. “Hooligans?” he asked. Apparently, her word choice had him tickled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

“What? You think
I
had something to do with this?” Moe sounded incredulous. “I think you ought to call the police.”

Agatha knelt and picked a piece of mirror off the floor. “For your information, this was a family heirloom.”

“I’m sorry for your bad luck and that Jeremy has planted such crazy ideas in your head about me.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes. “I admire your consistent denial, but I know all about your illegal behavior and your thugs.”

“You think I have thugs?” Moe stared as if incredulous. “Agatha, the evening’s been delightful, but I must tell you, this is a side of you I don’t appreciate. Perhaps, I should leave.” He turned away.

Agatha pulled a Colt .45 from her purse. Using both hands, she aimed at his back. Damn. She’d have to edit the tapes.

“Don’t go yet, Terence. Or shall I call you Seamus or maybe you prefer the name Judas?” Agatha rattled off a few of Moe’s aliases. “Personally I prefer Moe,” she added. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Moe spun, eyed the gun, and took a step back.

“Careful now,” Agatha said.

“How do you know all this?”

“Are we ready to talk business?” Agatha cocked her head to the side. She had waited years for this moment. Men like Moe preyed on the weakest of the weak and had extracted obscene amounts of money from her family.

“What ‘business’ are you talking about?”

“I have evidence you’re doing commerce with Hector Juarez. Evidence that
will
be in the hands of the police should anything happen to me.” Doing her best to channel Clint Eastwood, she added, “That’s just the beginning.” The threat was empty, but a little bluffing never hurt.

Moe stepped toward her, and Agatha inched back. “Careful, you’re on camera.”

“How’d you—”

“Technology is wonderful. And if you don’t want to end up in prison for the rest of your life, I think you’d better cooperate.”

“You’re—threatening me?” Moe’s shocked expression was so fulfilling, glee, like carbonated water, bubbled inside her, and Agatha threw back her head and laughed.

When something smashed into her hands knocking the gun across the room, Agatha’s gaze snapped down just in time to see Moe’s hand span the width of her face. With his palm over her nose and eyes, he placed his thumb on one temple and his pinky on the other. Agatha’s confusion was short lived because Moe squeezed and everything went black.

****

Agatha floated in an abyss dreaming when a deep, aching pain in her shoulders demanded her attention. She tried to shift position, but couldn’t move. She guided her dream in another direction, but the pain refused to stop and her mouth refused to open when she wanted to yell for help.

She wriggled. It seemed her wrists and ankles were bound. The dream had taken on a nightmarish quality. Agatha forced herself awake.

She was lying on the settee with her arms bound behind her back so tightly that her shoulder blades nearly touched. Tape covered her mouth, and her legs were tied at the ankles.

Confusion set in until her memory took hold. Damning her costly mistake, Agatha chided herself for taking her eye off her target. Her only consolation was the memory of Moe’s eyes splayed wide in shock when she’d turned the tables on him. The floor had been swept, the shattered mirror cleaned up, and the furniture set upright. At least Moe was a courteous thug.

What a pickle she was in. How long would she lay tied up before someone found her? Aware her breathing had sped up, Agatha forced herself to relax. She needed a clear head. She’d lost the battle, but she wouldn’t lose the war.

****

Helen’s feet ached, and a film of dirt covered her skin. Closing time was near, and she had little doubt they’d obliterated Hot Diggitys’ sales record hours earlier. An abnormally large older man, wearing a suit, stepped up to order. Even fatigued, Helen noticed his handsome features.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“What do you recommend?”

“Our DerFoodle Dog is our best seller.”

“Give me two. No make that three and a couple of drinks.”

“Coke?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Would you like the large size?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

As Helen entered the order, she asked, “Would you like any sides? We have fries, coleslaw, fruit cups, salad, corn—”

“Two fries,” he cut her off.

“The large?”

“Fine.”

“Would you like a dessert? We have cookies, apple pie—”

“Do you have chocolate chip cookies?”

“Yes.”

“Two of those.”

“Would you like anything else?”

“No.”

“Your total is $21.67.”

The gentleman handed her a fifty. “Keep the change.”

Helen cocked an eyebrow. “You sure?”

He nodded.

After making change, Helen stuffed the dollars into the collective-tip jar. A dizzy spell overtook her, so Helen excused herself from the register, went to the sink in the back of the building, and splashed cold water on her face.

Her hands shook and her insides felt as if electricity was zinging about like a horde of wasps. The day had been hectic, and she hadn’t monitored her diet. She’d been stupidly lax, but years had passed since her last diabetic episode, and she tended to forget the possible consequences. With twenty-five minutes until closing, she decided to wait. After drying her face and hands, she returned to the register.

While taking the next order, Helen saw Theo walking toward Hot Diggitys. His tense posture and frown made her worry. When she waved, he nodded once in response.

Helen greeted the next customer who ordered two DerFoodles Dogs to go.

“Everything okay?” Helen called to Theo when he entered the back door.

“Yeah.” Theo washed his hands and then went to counter to fill orders.

“What are you doing here?” Helen asked.

Theo shrugged. She’d press him after they closed. Leaning across the counter, Helen assessed the length of the line.

“Theo, will you go tell the last person in line they’ll get the last order? Stay out there to let anyone new know we’re closing.” Agatha would have a fit if she found out they’d turned down business, but Agatha hadn’t spent the day on her feet.

Theo agreed, and Helen turned to an older, gray-haired woman. “How are you today?”

The woman kept her gaze on the counter. “Two DerFoodle Dogs please.” She flushed pink.

Helen entered the order. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thank you.”

“A side? Some fries, coleslaw—”

The woman shook her head no.

“Dessert? We have—”

“No thank you.”

“That’s $6.08.”

Never glancing up, the woman counted out exact change and set it on the counter.

“Thank you.” Helen put the money in her overflowing register.

As she took the next order, Ben handed the shy, older woman her bag of hot dogs. To Helen’s astonishment, the woman opened her toaster-sized purse and stuffed the bag inside before hurrying away.

A half hour later, the last customer left. Helen began wiping down the counters, when Theo touched her shoulder. “Have you eaten lately?” he asked.

“Oh Geez. I meant to.”

“Sit down and eat. We’ll clean up.”

Helen didn’t want to, but agreed. She grabbed a banana from a bowl and took a few bites before making herself a cheese sandwich with a hot dog bun. While she ate, she started the daily sales report. Their archaic register spit the information on receipt tape, noting every single sale. It took an hour and wasted half a role of paper to churn out the data, so she left it to do other things.

When her other employees left for the night, Helen approached Theo.

“You never told me why you came in.”