"Cleaver.." Mr. Kransten sighed. "My client is not the one on trial."
"Nah suh. But she should be. Sorry not sorry." He said looking at an irritated Mrs. Crowder. "She can be and maybe is, probably one of the meanest and grumpiest misers in this world, who pays me half as much as I rightfully deserve!" He fussed! "And she knows it! She is also pigheaded, stubborn, a downright instigator that can get under yo skin like tick and suck the life outta ya!"
"Why Cleaver, if you feel that strong about yo own boss, then why do you still work for her?"
"Becuz Frances, I made a full fledged promise to her husband and my best friend in the whole wide world, Rusty, I would care for his crabby ole wife, while he was still grasping for life on his death bed. Not to mention, once upon a time, when he wuz amongst the livin... she was actually bearable. In fact, I thank, she wuz in the way of the side, that she onlay displays naw to her grandson, Tator. Or did." He said. "But I fear she ain't that no moe. That, or she jest is in such a dark place, she done lost the light. And as many times as I wont to so desperately renege on that promise to Rusty and run for the hills, but not befoe given her a peace of my mind, I can't. My word is my bond. And son, rest assured, she knows it." He said staring deep into Mrs. Crowder's eyes.
"Well... to keep that bond, Mr. Cleaver, I have ta say, that's mighty fine of ya..."
"But if I had a bat..."
"Umm..." Mr. Kransten quickly interrupted Cleaver's next sentence and no doubt rant, said... "Let's jest-uh continue shall we?"
"Mmm-hmm" Cleaver agreed scratching at his salt and pepper chin.
"Naw, Mr. Cleaver, on the day of July fifteenth at 3:00 pm in the sunny afternoon, three years back, where were you?"
"I was workin for Mrs. Crowder in her garden."
"And whut exactly were you doin?"
"I was doin as I always do at that time, I was prunin her bushes."
"Uh huh. And would you say, Mrs. Crowder was in peace at that 3pm time?"
"She ain't neva in peace, Frances."
"Mr. Cleaver... let's put it this way,would you say she wuz disturbed?"
"You wan put it that way? Right after whut I jest clearly said earlier?" Cleaver asked staring queerly at Mr. Kransten in full condescension.
"Mr. Cleaver did some em bother her that day?"
"Well whut don't bother her?"
"Oh my Lawd!" Mr. Kransten said face palming. "Misssstuh Cleava..." He groaned gritting on and speaking through his teeth.
"Yessss?"
"Jest state to the court-tuh, whut was out of the orrrrrr-den-nary on that day? And beeeeee-foe you answer that-tuh. I am aaasssssskin you whut wuz or should I say whooooo wuz-uh, otha than Miss-Is Crowduh there on that day out of the cotton pickin norm?"
"Beeee-foe, hi ann-suh that... hiiiii thank you need anotha pep-paaaa-mint!" Cleaver sarcastically sang.
Mr. Kransten displayed a wacky expression of grimace, nearly lost his mind trying to question an incredibly frustrating and vague Mr. Cleaver. But for the sake of peace and not choking Cleaver, Mr. Kransten stomped away from Cleaver to his desk. He picked up the bowl of peppermints and crunched on so many, his lips were a cakey white.
"Satisfied?" He grumbled with a crazy expression.
"Yes." Cleaver replied content.
"Naw please Mr. Cleaver, please..."
YOU ARE READING
The Brooch
Historical FictionLet's go back to a time when life was simple and easy. Like peaches and cream on a summer set day. And the smell of happiness was a like a hot apple pie, fresh out of the oven. Where children's laughter filled the air... Time was simple. No worries...
