“Would you care for some pie? Coffee?”
“Just coffee for me,” my dinner companion orders.
“What kind’a pie?”
The girl smiles at me. “Apple, banana cream, pecan, and pumpkin.”
“Pumpkin with whipped cream if you have it.”
“Sure thing. Coffee with that?”
“Please.”
“Be right back.”
I watch her move to the coffee station when the front door swings open and a man comes stumbling in.
I can’t hear what he’s saying to the girl, but I can see her taking a step back.
“That’s trouble,” Mrs. Chapman mutters under her breath, and immediately my hackles go up.
I’m already pushing out of my seat when I see Robin come flying out of the hallway leading to the washrooms and pull the young waitress behind her.
“…come in here and cause a disturbance…” I catch only snippets of what she’s saying, but it’s enough to have me double-time it to her side. “You need to leave right now, Mike,” Robin says, reaching for his arm but he swats at her hand.
“Touch her and we’ve got issues,” I growl, stepping in front of her.
“Where’s my wife?” he yells, spittle flying.
“She’s not here, Mike.” Robin tries to nudge me out of the way and finally resorts to peeking her head around my elbow. “You need to leave or I have no choice but to call the police.”
“Already done,” I hear from behind me.
Jason, the diner’s cook, steps around me and faces off with the irate man in the doorway.
“Enough, Mike. Go home.”
“Do you know what she did?”
“Mike…come on, let’s go.”
Jason firmly grabs him by the arm and tries to spin him around, but the guy struggles against his hold. Ready for this scene to be over, I grab his other arm, twist it up behind his back and shove him unceremoniously out the door, Jason on his other side.
A police cruiser is just pulling up and an officer steps out.
“What’ve we got here?” the cop asks, over the loud protests of the idiot we’re holding on to.
“He’s drunk and making a nuisance of himself,” Jason answers calmly. He doesn’t seem fazed by the struggling man’s swearing and cursing.
The cop’s eyes come to me and his scrutiny makes me itchy.
“You’re Bennet.”
“I am.” I lift my chin in a silent challenge.
It shouldn’t surprise me local law enforcement is aware of my presence here and I’ve seen a couple around, but this is the first time someone’s calling me out. It makes me uneasy.
The cop finally slides his eyes to the man still pulling against our hold.
“You causing trouble again, Mike? Told you two nights ago, when you were causing a ruckus outside your neighbor’s place, I didn’t want to get another call about you, didn’t I?” He fishes a pair of handcuffs clipped to his belt. “Park him up against the cruiser, boys. He’s gonna be sleeping this one off at the police station.”
“This is a public place, you can’t arrest me!”
“Be quiet already, Mike,” the officer says, as he steps up and makes quick work of cuffing him.
He pats the man down for anything that can be used as a weapon and coming up empty, shoves him in the back of the cruiser, and slams the door.
“Derek Francisi,” he says, reaching out his hand.
It takes me a moment to react but I eventually take his hand.
“Gray Bennet.”
“I hear you own the Dirty Dog now?”
“I do.”
“Mind if I pop in at some point to talk about sponsoring the law enforcement baseball team this upcoming season? The Dirty Dog has for the past seven years, but we don’t wanna assume you plan to continue.”
“Fair enough,” I mumble, taken aback. This was the last thing I expected.
Banging draws our attention to the man in the back of the cruiser, who is slamming his head against the window.
“Oh fuck, I better get going before he smashes his head open. I just had my cruiser detailed. Want him trespassed?”
“Probably best,” Jason agrees.
“Consider it done.” The officer tips his hat and slides behind the wheel. When he rolls past us he lowers his window. “Bennet!”
Instantly my spine straightens.
“Yeah?”
“See you at the Dog.”
Chapter Nineteen
Robin
I watch through the window as Jason and Gray stalk back to the diner, when the cruiser takes off with Mike inside.
“Coffee and pie on the house,” Jason calls out when he enters.
Most of the guests who had been on their feet, checking out the goings-on in the parking lot, promptly take their seats.
To me he says, “Put on an extra pot.”
“I’ll help,” Gray announces.
It’s eight o’clock when I lock the door behind Debra, carrying half an apple pie to take to her family. Gray is wiping off tables and Jason is packing up the remainders in the kitchen. His wife, Kay, went home much earlier. We haven’t had a quiet moment since the disturbance Mike caused. I suspect word must’ve traveled something was up at the diner, because people kept ‘dropping in’ for coffee and asking questions.
It’s hard to keep anything here in Beaverton under wraps, and I think most people are aware of what happened between Shirley and Mike, but apparently that only made folks more curious about this latest incident. Most of the time I enjoy the close community, but in this case I find it a bit oppressive.
“You guys wanna take some of this home?” Jason calls from the kitchen.
I stick my head around the door.
“I wouldn’t mind. Are you sure?”
“Plenty left.” He indicates the overflowing containers.
“In that case, yes please.” Saves me cooking tomorrow when I have the day off.
A few minutes later, we’re saying goodbye in the parking lot when Gray throws an arm around my shoulders and guides me to my SUV. I’ll admit I’m a little disappointed, I’d hoped he’d be taking me home, but then he grabs the keys I have in my hands.
“I’ll drive.”
“What about your truck?” I look around the parking lot but don’t see it.
“I walked over.”
He opens the passenger door and rounds the front of the SUV, getting in beside me.
“How will you get—” I start asking when
