"Refill, ma'am?"
Silence.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but would you like more lemonade?"
Samantha Patterson sat outside Aubree's finishing up lunch and an article that had to be submitted in less than forty minutes. 2 o'clock was the deadline. Any later and she risked losing her opportunity to become part of Ypsilanti Courier's in house staff. At a time when most local papers were downsizing, the Courier anticipated having two positions open in a matter of weeks. Author of weekly home and garden articles, Cheryl Long, was the first expected to leave. At the ripe old age of eighty-three, Cheryl had decided to retire from newspaper columns and enjoy the rest of her years watching reruns of Wheel of Fortune. The other soon to be ex-employee, Aaron Bausterfield, had given two weeks' notice in wake of a job offer from the Ann Arbor News. Word around the Courier was that the Detroit Free Press had wanted Aaron so badly after his coverage of the Widower Murders that they attempted to purchase his contract for close to two-million dollars. But, as the story goes, the deal severed when Aaron learned it was all just a ploy to silence leading competitors in the Southeastern market.
Lost in thought, Samantha snapped back to reality. With fifteen minutes to spare, the article was finished and ready to be sent. "I'm sorry," she began, gazing up into the awaiting stare of the waitress, pressing enter on the laptop. "But did you say something?"
The Aubree's associate cheerfully proceeded to fill Samantha's glass. "Never saw you 'round campus before. Are you crammin' for finals, too, love?"
"Am I what?" Samantha queried, confused as to what the waitress was talking about.
The impressionable associate winked, pointing to the student I.D. attached to Samantha's key chain. "All lunch meals are half off for students and seeing as how you're an EMU sister, and exams being brutal on us all, allow me to take care of your tab in hopes my simple act of kindness will escort an A or two into both our lives. 'Cause I don't know about you, but I'm gonna need all the help I can get to pass chem."
At first Samantha was mortified. Though she made a living snooping in the affairs of others, she hated when the tables were turned. Oh how she wanted to tell the waitress about her college days having long since passed. She had graduated years ago. Instead, seeing as how no harm was intended, she opted to simply accept the compliment and say thank you. "No problem, sister," the waitress replied before ripping up the bill and disappearing inside.
Samantha smiled. Had the associate checked her I.D. she would have learned it had expired nearly five years prior. Taking a sip of the lemonade, Samantha wondered whether she could spend the next sixty or so years writing about local restaurant hospitality rather than the city's never ending cycle of crime. Of course not, she thought, as the lemonade reminded her of how much help she too had needed in order to pass chem.
EMAIL SENT, the laptop screen illuminated in the afternoon sunlight.
Samantha breathed a sigh of relief and powered the computer off. The following edition of the Courier would contain an article she'd written about a body police had found in the park next to the old paper factory on Leforge. Revering Aaron Bausterfield, she could only hoped that one day her articles would solidify her reporting career as had his.
Samantha packed up her belongings and placed a twenty dollar bill on the table. Because she was an EMU graduate, something about taking advantage of a future sister alumni didn't sit well with her. Besides, Samantha chimed within herself. As Uncle Jarvis would say, 'The right thing is always the right thing to do.'
YOU ARE READING
The Widower Murders
Mistero / ThrillerTwo decades ago, a total of five widowers were killed by a female serial killer named Ella Timmins. Believed to have been the fifth, local philanthropist and businessman, Adrian Price, was discovered bludgeon and mutilated in his mansion, Price Esta...
