Page 22 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
Even though his mood was dark and broody, he made his way to the only diner in town that had the best burger within a hundred miles, hands down. Good old Mabel was nearing her eighties and still worked like a dog each day and ran a tight ship. Her employees knew better than to be late, rude, or come in with a dirty uniform. He admired her for that.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Mabel’s mind was as sharp as her tongue, and he took an instant liking to the blunt woman who wasn’t known for holding anything back. It didn’t hurt that Mabel treated Yasmine like a daughter, and he enjoyed watching the two women together—it was easy to see their deep bond.
And, although the food was amazing, there were more important reasons for coming here. This wastheplace to come for the latest gossip, the proverbial water cooler. His keen hearing was able to pick up on conversations, but Mabel would always fill him in regardless.
It hadn’t been easy selling Mabel on the fact that he was indeed a good man, but he finally enticed her into letting her guard down. That was when she made the switch from cool and all hustle and bustle to warm and chatty. Now, Mabel was always ready with a new name on her tongue and some terrible deed they’d done. Her motive for telling him, he hadn’t figured out yet, but no matter the reason, he was happy to have her as an honorary sidekick.
The little bell chimed as he pushed open the door, the delicious scent of fried food hitting him in the face.
“Well, hello there, tall, dark and handsome. Sit where you like. I’ll be with you shortly,” Mabel called out. Her tightly permed grey hair was the only thing that could be seen over the top of the saloon-style doors leading to the kitchen.
Wanting some privacy for this conversation, he made his way to the furthest booth away from everyone but waved and said, “Good day,” as he passed those already seated.
He picked up the daily paper lying on the table, an article titled, “Baby Snatcher: where could he have gone?” splashed across the front. The article claimed that the police had an arrest warrant out for the killer and that an anonymous tipster had turned the man in. Too bad they were never going to find him.
Prison was too good for people like him. They deserved exactly what he gave them. A one-way ticket to hell—if there was a hell, that is.
Mabel placed a cup of black coffee and a piece of cherry pie down for him before she flopped into the other side of the booth.
“Makes you sick, doesn’t it? And to think that piece of garbage ate in my restaurant. Would you believe he had the nerve to sit at the counter and eat my food every Saturday for as long as I can remember?” Mabel smacked her hand down on the table, getting the attention of the other booths. “No wonder his wife picked up and left him. She probably knew just what kind of sick he is.”
The restaurant became noisy again as people went back to their conversations. “I’ll tell you one thing if he ever shadows my door again, I will gladly beat him to death with my rolling pin! I hope that one burns in hell while he is hung up by his toenails.”
“I know that one will get what’s coming to him. You don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said.
“I hope so. Was that too ungodly to say, Father?” Mabel teased.
He’d learned pretty quickly that Mabel had her own code. He was pretty certain the worst thing she’d done was use her sharp tongue or purposely pour salt in a cup of coffee, but he did enjoy her enthusiasm.
He chuckled and sat the paper aside to take a bite of the pie. “Still the best pie I’ve ever eaten.”
“But is it better than the grandiose burger?”
“Oh, that is a tough call—I think I’ll have to go with a tie.” He smiled as Mabel’s face lit up.
“You always know how to butter me up. One of these days, I’ll give you my secret recipes. Someone might as well enjoy them when I’m dead and gone.”
“Don’t say that. You’re too young yet to think that way.” Dean gave her a wink, and Mabel blushed and gave a little chuckle.
“Please, we both know one of these days you’ll be reading over my cold corpse, and I don’t want any of those mushy sermons. No, I want it to be a big old celebration with daisies tied to every pew and a picnic in the park with food from my restaurant lining every table. Will you see to that Father? I’m counting on you.” She paused in her teasing rant, her smile slipping. “Sometimes I wish my Fred and I had been able to have children, but then I think of all the worry and pain I’ve seen in parents’ eyes, and I don’t know…”
Mabel turned her gaze from the window, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. Dean reached out and squeezed Mabel’s hand, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a half-hearted smile.
“Yasmine thinks of you like a mother. I have seen it in her eyes. I know that she will make sure that no matter what, you will always feel like you have family around.”
Mabel gave him a small smile.
“She is a special girl, the best heart I have ever seen and sweeter than my butter tarts.”
“Well, speaking of Yasmine, I wanted to talk to you about her.” Dean took another bite of the delicious pie before continuing. “I’m hoping you can help me with some information.”
“I’ll give it my best, but this old brain is not what it used to be.” Mabel smiled, all the sadness evaporating.
“We both know that’s not true.” Dean raised an eyebrow at Mabel, and she laughed.
Dean looked around and then lowered his voice, leaning forward as he whispered, “Do you know what happened to Yasmine? I just came from the funeral home, and she’s pretty upset over this tragedy with the young girls.” He tapped the paper on the table. “I’m worried about her. I’ve never seen her so distraught.”
“Oh, the poor dear.” Mabel shook her head, her gaze locked on the salt shaker. “I’m not sure that is one story I should be telling.” Mabel cast her eyes back to him as she chewed her lower lip.
