Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery Read Online Free Page B

friends over for dinner, if only I had friends here.
    Aunt Stella had updated the kitchen, yet the room seemed to maintain the original ambience. I put on the kettle, then sat at one of the oak chairs around the thick oak table and watched the snow fall. Fat, fluffy flakes drifted to earth, piling up on every surface and drifting into places where people had to walk.
    Watching it was peaceful and calming, taking my mind off the numerous tasks I had waiting, not the least of which were unpacking my Focus and picking out a permanent bedroom.
    I watched as a mother and her son, who were eating pie at the counter when I was at the Silver Bullet, walked down the stairs of the diner. I held my breath at the unsteady balance of the mother on the sidewalk.
    I didn’t want my customers to fall, and I was glad that Max and Clyde were clearing the snow.
    Insurance! I’d never thought about insurance.
    I pulled out my notebook and made an entry to check on it, although there was probably a bill for it in the bag in front of me.
    The kettle whistled, and I plodded to the stove in my socks. I made my Earl Grey tea, added some sugar for pep, and grabbed the grocery bag of mail. I made my way to the rolltop desk in a large sitting room off the kitchen and started sorting the mail: handle immediately, handle now, handle at once.
    A letter from the Health Department, Bureau of Restaurant Inspections, caught my eye. Reluctantly, I opened it.
    Scanning the letter, I gleaned that the kitchen of the Silver Bullet had some problems as noted by the inspector on his previous visit. I read and reread the problems, trying to comprehend what it all meant.
    The diner had some violations, none of which seemed critical: a dirty floor near the back door and the storage area, a broken thermometer at the steam table, the Dumpster lid left open, and employees were observed eating in the prep area.
    It was signed by Inspector Marvin P. Cogswell III.
    The dirty floor by the back door and storage area was likely due to Clyde and Max walking in and out of the kitchen and tracking in snow and mud on their boots.
    They were probably the ones eating in there, too, and the ones who’d left the Dumpster lid open. The broken thermometer was easy to fix. Everything was easy to fix.
    Then I noticed that the inspector had scheduled a return inspection for…today! Later this afternoon!If the diner didn’t pass, it could be closed down.
    I decided that I should personally concentrate on making sure that everything was in order for the inspector.
    I had to go back to the diner.
    I took a sip of the hot tea and dressed again in my boots and winter survival gear. Clinging to the railing to make my way down the front stairs, I plowed through the snowdrifts with the health inspection letter stuffed in the pocket of my coat.
    Pausing, I heard the wail of an ambulance. Then it got closer and closer still. Red lights flashed against the snow like a strobe light in a disco. Soon I could see an ambulance, a fire truck, and a couple of sheriff’s department cars hurrying as fast as they could down the road leading to the diner.
    My diner!
    My heart started pounding in my chest. I’m not the greatest in an emergency. My brain just sits there in my head like a lump of dough that won’t rise.
    Max and Clyde ran toward me, and I rushed to meet them. The snowflakes hit my face and eyes and melted on my contact lenses.
    “Trixie.” Max breathed heavily, and puffs of steam hung between us. “The kitchen.”
    “Oh no! Fire! Is anyone hurt?” I immediately thought of Juanita. I knew that she was single, and, oh merciful heavens, I didn’t know anything else about her or how to contact her loved ones. I didn’t even know her last name. “Juanita?”
    Clyde grabbed a chunk of my sleeve and pulled me down the path to the diner. “No! She’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Well, not everyone is okay.”
    Either my brain wasn’t computing or Clyde was speaking Swahili.