Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [34]
They walked over to Buck’s Grill and found the owner’s daughter Sally Anne waiting tables. Sally Anne could always be counted on for her bright, sunny smile.
In the hours between breakfast and lunch, the restaurant was oddly deserted.
Alex had heard from Buck that Sally Anne had decided to postpone college a year in order to save more money, but local gossip had it that she was more interested in seeing which college offered a scholarship to the town’s local football hero, and incidentally, her boyfriend.
Alex asked, “How’s Eric doing this season?” as he walked in.
Sally Anne’s smile brightened even more. “He’s on his way to breaking all the old school records. You should come out and watch him play sometime.”
“I’d like that.” He glanced at the menu board on the wall behind her. “Let me see, I’ll have two of your freshest glazed doughnuts and a glass of chocolate milk. Finster’s buying.”
Her smile shifted to a grim crease as she turned to Finster. The real estate man winked broadly and said, “I’ll have the same, honey.” He turned to Alex. “You grab a booth, will you? I’ve got to make a quick call. Time is money, you know what I mean, sport?” His hacking laughter followed him all the way to the pay telephone outside the diner. The realtor was too cheap to invest in a cellular telephone even as the world around him went wireless.
Sally Anne delivered the two milks and the doughnuts before Finster had a chance to come back from the pay phone.
Alex said, “You don’t like him much, do you?”
An uncharacteristic fury crossed the girl’s face. “Every time he’s in here he tries to pinch my bottom or find an excuse to brush against me. The man makes my skin crawl.”
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that. Why don’t you tell Eric or your father?”
She grimaced. “Are you kidding? Eric would get thrown off the team if he got caught beating Finster up, and Daddy would kill the little sleaze.”
She had a point. Her father, Buck Wilson, had been a state Golden Gloves champ, knocking down every opponent he met. Clippings on one wall chronicled his climb to the regional finals, where he had the misfortune to meet a future contender for the heavyweight championship title of the world. Buck’s nose still bore the bend that Bomber Maxwell had put in it. He wore the crooked nose with pride, regaling every new customer with his blow-by-blow account of the fight. At fifty, Buck still looked like he could go ten rounds with any up-and-comer.
Alex suddenly thought of something. “Is your dad back in the kitchen now?”
“No, he’s off on his morning jog, ten miles, rain or shine.”
“Chances are Finster doesn’t know that. Here’s what you should do.” Alex whispered his instructions to Sally Anne, whose grin grew wider with the telling.
Finster came back just as the two of them finished their discussion. Sally Anne managed to dodge Finster’s groping paws; the realtor chuckled as he sat down.
Finster smiled and said, “What are you trying to do, Alex, go after every eligible woman in town? Leave a few for the rest of us, will you?”
Alex jammed a doughnut in his mouth to keep from saying something he might regret. Sally Anne made the doughnuts fresh every morning, and Alex loved the smell of the batter frying almost as much as the tender, moist taste of the pastries themselves. He ate both doughnuts, drank the milk, then glanced at his watch. “You’ve got two minutes, starting now.”
Finster wolfed down the last bite of his doughnut. To Alex’s disappointment, the man didn’t choke. “My buyer has upped the offer for the inn. Why don’t you grab it before my client finds out about what happened at Bear Rocks? You might avoid a lawsuit that way.”