The Pub: A Murder Mystery by Peggy Cole © Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The manager of a fancy restaurant suddenly disappears. When paychecks start bouncing, the new bookkeeper falls under suspicion. Her new manager creates havoc in an already unstable workplace as Joe battles to save her job.

Joe watched dawn break over the channel. On the dock, a fisherman readied his boat for the day's work. She longed to spend the day on the water with the wind in her hair. It had been weeks since her boss, The Pub's owner, took her out on his boat. She wondered how things could have turned around so quickly.

There were only two cars in the parking lot. "Leftovers," she mumbled. These belonged to customers who'd found a ride home with someone they met at the lounge. She'd learned the hard way not to leave her car there overnight.

Once in the door, she was engulfed in an odor of stale beer and cigarette smoke. She followed the stains on the carpet to the service kiosk and made a pot of coffee. In the kitchen, she caught an image of herself in the door of the walk-in cooler. Sunken eyes, messy hair, wrinkled outfit, she looked far different than she had a few months ago.

"Home sweet home," she said and tossed her purse into a drawer. It was the late seventies. There were no computers to calculate balances. She'd learned to use an old Pegboard System with carbon copies of checks for records. She studied the entries on the bank register until her eyes blurred and her thoughts drifted.

Why did I take this job in the first place?

It had been fun at first. She loved counting stacks of cash and balancing the registers. Another benefit was the free daily meal. Eating at a fancy restaurant wasn't something she could do on her salary from the bank.

Her new boss, Dick, one of the owners liked to say, "There's no such thing as a free lunch."  He'd said it again yesterday.

"Yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes.

Another thing, he often said. "Always have a Plan B." Right now she was wishing for a "Plan B."

The job had become nothing but trouble. Paychecks were bouncing and she was being blamed.

When she'd first started the job, she and Dick would drive up the coast to check out the competition. At least, that was what he said. He wrote it off as a business expense. The truth was, he liked to be seen with pretty women who would drive him home while he nodded off in a stupor.

Joe knew that other girls on staff shared the same favors. Joe didn't mind. It was her best chance to drive a fast, fancy sports car.

He'd tell her to let him out a couple of blocks away from his house.

"The night is perfect for a walk," he'd say. But Joe knew the real reason. He wanted to stay out of site of the condo he shared with his wife and his mother-in-law.

"Just take the car home with you," he'd say. "You can drive it to work in the morning." She only fell for that one time. Repercussion came the next morning at work.

"Looks like somebody got lucky last night," the early-shift bartender cooed when she walked in. "Saw your car in the lot." He snickered.

"What?" she sputtered. "No! I drove Dick's car to my house." Words spilled out before she could stop them. Shut up. You're making it worse. She turned her back and drew a soda from the fountain trying to hide her bright red face.

"Guess that makes you someone's pet then, doesn't it?"

Joe had spent the morning sulking in her office, thinking about her old job at the bank.

Working at the brand new bank hadn't been all that bad. It was furnished with huge oak desks, marble counters and decorative lighting. Sadly, the fancy furnishings didn't spill over into the employees' salaries. Despite that, there was a waiting list to work there. Eight-to-five jobs were hard to find in the small town.

The day she realized she was going nowhere there was the day they promoted the security guard to head teller. He had no teller experience. He was just a man and the owner liked to favor men employees. She griped about it like the others but she was the only one that looked for a way out.

Scouring the want ads on her break she read, One weekend off a month? Hours 5 pm until midnight? They've got to be kidding. Most of the ads were for hotels, bars or restaurants. In the tourist driven town, hospitality workers seemed to drift in and out like the tide. Joe wasn't like that. She wanted a job with stability.

She thought she'd found that at The Pub.

Snapping back to reality, she ran the numbers again trying to explain the overdraft. She needed to prove herself; remove any doubt about her bookkeeping abilities.

Trying to raise some funds, she started making calls to customers with past-due house accounts. Not something she liked doing. She wondered why the management let people run up tabs into the thousands of dollars. Even Dick's tab was overdue. She put his file aside and moved to the next one. Maybe she could bring in enough to cover the payroll this week and hopefully, next week's liquor order.

She searched the office again trying to find the old bank statements. They weren't there despite her constant reminders to Bob, the general manager.

"I need those," she'd told him two days earlier. He'd blown her off. She pushed harder. "What if Ervin shows up? The last time he was here that's the first thing he wanted to see." Bringing up the CPA from hell turned Bob's face into a dark angry mask.

"If he shows up, tell him to ask me," he shouted, spit flying. Tomato juice and vodka sloshed out of his glass as he teetered under the low ceiling.

"Like I said, I balanced them myself while you were wasting time on some other worthless crap."

That was a new one, even for the master of insults.

"You don't need them to do your job," he screamed, storming out of the office. Through the closed door he yelled, "I need that staff schedule I told you to get done. Work on something useful for a change."

That was the last time she'd seen Bob.

She wondered if Bob's infatuation with Doreen had anything to do with the state of the books. Flings among the staff were common as hangovers and as quickly forgotten. This one was different. Bob fell hard for Doreen and she took advantage of it. The waitstaff grumbled that she got the choice shifts and better table assignments, although, no one dared mention it to him. That subject was strictly off limits.

Lately, Joe sensed trouble between Bob and Doreen. That would explain his foul mood over the past few weeks when he’d show up barking orders and scowling more than usual.

Two hours flew by as she poured over the books. She ran the numbers again and came up with the same balance. She heard the clatter of pans and dishes in the kitchen just beyond her door. Staff was showing up for work. Her eyes were bleary when the office door opened and Dick stood in the doorway. She could tell from his expression that something was up. He never came in this early.

“Bob’s gone,” he said eyeing the tangle of adding machine tapes snaking across the desk. Joe took the pencil stub she was chewing out of her mouth. It left a black smear on her lip.

“What do you mean gone?” 

“He’s disappeared.” He formed his hands like a bird in flight.

“How do you figure?” She smirked, thinking he was trying out one of his corny accounting jokes. She waited for the punch line, but his expression remained grim. He stepped inside and lowered his bulk to the bench across from her.

“I drove by Bob's place on my way to breakfast. He always parks in the same spot but his car’s not there. When he didn’t answer the door, I peeked in. The place looked empty. Nothing but furniture. You know his place looks like a train wreck - clothes draped over chairs, dirty dishes everywhere, even during staff meetings.”

Once a month, the employees met at Bob’s for a breakfast meeting. It was usually on a Sunday when they didn't serve lunch. Then everyone went for an outing on Dick’s boat.

“The room looks like it did before he moved in," he went on, "and the car not in its usual spot. Looks like he split."

Bob rarely drove his own car to the restaurant. That gave him an excuse to drive Dick’s fancy car to the bank for the daily deposit. He liked to brag that walking kept him in peak shape. Joe had to admit, for a man in his fifties, he was lean and muscular not paunchy like some. She looked at Dick's bulging belly.

“Maybe he’s with Doreen,” Joe said, instantly regretting it. Everyone knew about Bob’s obsession with Doreen. Maybe not everyone. She doubted that Dick knew. He was oblivious to most of the drama at The Pub.

His eyes lingered on her pencil-stained lips. She knew his affection for her ran deeper than he cared to admit. But she could tell. She always could tell that about men. For as long as she could remember. The way he stared at her with a dreamily when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was nothing new. She turned heads. Over the years, she’d become used to getting double takes from strangers. Beauty was a mixed blessing with its own set of hazards.

They sat quietly in the wake of news about Bob. Joe knew she’d get a new boss. Even worse, Ervin, the other partner, would be flying in to scrutinize the books and Joe in particular. His knack for making people miserable was clear during his last visit.

Beyond his tactless interrogation of the staff, he tended to stare at Joe with such intensity that it made her queasy. She never knew which of his cold, black eyes to look at.

"In a thriving restaurant with packed lounges, how is it impossible we're losing money?" he screamed at Dick. "This is a black hole where my money disappears!”

Ervin had the financial means to keep the Pub open. That gave him a sizeable amount of power. But with the current state of the books, she wasn’t sure if either partner would put more money into the restaurant. If not, The Pub would fold and put everyone's job on the line.

Dick broke the silence.

“I’ve asked Chip to take on the management duties until we can hire someone.”

“Oh?” She was unable to hide her disappointment. The assistant manager wouldn’t be her first choice when it came to replacing Bob. Although he acted friendly, something dark lurked beneath the surface of the muscle-bound bouncer. She knew if Dick already talked to Chip, the rest of the staff probably knew about Bob, too. Getting the news second-hand stung worse than Chip as Bob’s replacement.

Dick reached across the table and patted her shoulder, then, shuffled out. The gloom of the space closed in around her. Muffled voices filtered in through the thin walls. She could hear Dick telling the day cook to spread the word about a staff meeting before lunch. Reactions varied. One loud voice said, “That’s just great,” then, the grumbling went quiet.

“Staff meeting at eleven,” Denny announced in the dining room where two waitresses folded cloth napkins. They stopped and glared as he moved down the hall. Doreen slammed silverware onto a linen triangle and rolled up the edges. Her companion glanced at her across the table.

“They probably just came up with some more rules,” she said, “as if we need any more.” Doreen nodded and they resumed their task.

Denny’s voice carried as he moved into the lounge. He told servers with their pitchers of iced tea and condiments about the meeting.

At precisely eleven, a restless crowd shuffled around in the breakroom. Typical of a small town, rumors spread at the speed of sound in the restaurant. By the time Dick came in, many already knew what was coming. The room drew silent as they waited for him to make the official announcement.

“Bob is no longer with us,” he began. For a few of the late comers, the news took them by surprise. Doreen’s reaction was the most surprising.

“Why that scoundrel!” she said loud enough for anyone nearby to overhear. Heads swiveled toward the back of the room and there was muffled laughter. She stood a few feet away from Chewy who glanced at her with compassion mixed with a glimmer of hope. Months earlier, he’d tried to win her heart with boxed chocolates and bouquets of flowers he’d sent to her home address. With the stage set, he’d finally dredged up the courage to ask her out.

“How about a movie?” he’d asked.

“You and me?” Her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.

“Sure,” he told her. “Death Wish is on at the drive in. It’s got Charles Bronson.”

“Not in this lifetime,” she’d answered with disdain walking away her nose in the air. Her rejections weren’t just for Chewy. Her cold indifference applied to every male who’d shown interest. That was, until Bob came along with his distinguished good looks and trim physique.

“Looks like the Ice Queen has finally melted,” one of the bus boys had said when news about the manager and the waitress spread.

While Dick droned on about Chip being in charge for the moment and his plans to advertise for a new manager, Chewy used the time to focus on Doreen.

Bob may have won her over for a while, but now, she’ll warm up to me. With Bob out of the picture, I have a better chance. He decided to make her jealous using Joe as bait. Chewy smiled at the thought. Jealousy will tip the scales in my favor.

Doreen seethed in a quiet rage. She knew more about Bob’s absence than anyone. He’s no different from the rest, she brooded, a scowl pasted on her face. He used me! The words screamed in her head blocking out Dick's voice. All she could think about was her new plan of action.

She frowned thinking about Bob's betrayal. While the others listened to Dick's ramblings, she worked on the details of her revenge.

They’ll be sorry they messed with me. They’ll all be sorry.

By that point, her anger overflowed one single target. It grew to include her coworkers. Suddenly her scowl changed to a smile.

“That’ll do it for now,” Dick said drawing the meeting to a close. Any questions or opinions about missing managers and missing cash went unanswered while they got ready for the waiting lunch crowd.

But those who'd survived other recent management changes knew uncertainty was headed their way.

Available on Amazon The Pub: A Murder Mystery

© Peggy Cole 2012

All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be copied or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author.

This story is fiction. Names, characters, businesses, and locations are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons, events or locales is coincidental.