T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 03 - Southern Peril by T. Lynn Ocean

Author:T. Lynn Ocean [Ocean, T. Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery: Cozy - Security Specialist - North Carolina
ISBN: 0312383479
Publisher: Minotaur
Published: 2009-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

Trying to eliminate an obnoxious headache that wouldn’t go away, I swallowed three Excedrin tablets and drank a glass of tomato juice, standing behind the bar. I’d woken up feeling as though I’d been beaten up and immediately remembered why I don’t drink wine. I had the mother of all hangovers. It was midday, and I was bartending for the afternoon to help take up the slack in Ox’s absence. As long as a group of tourists didn’t come in and ask for silly-sounding drinks like a Dixie Stinger or a Buttery Nipple, I’d be fine.

Thinking about dunking my pounding head in the ice bin, I heard something strange coming from the ceiling. Ruby elbowed me and pointed up. She’d heard it, too. We stopped what we were doing to listen. Faint scuffling sounds filtered intermittently through the Block’s PA system. Staring at a ceiling-mounted speaker, we definitely detected muffled voices.

The only two places where an employee can address the Block’s patrons using the built-in public address system are from the hostess stand at the main entrance and from the back office, which is really a desk tucked into one corner of the kitchen. But nobody worked the hostess stand. The Block’s customers know to seat themselves. Even on busier weekend nights when there is a hostess working, we never use the PA system. With a foggy brain, I stared curiously at the ceiling, willing my headache to ease up.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Frannie!” my father’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers, all ten of them. A smattering of customers looked around to see what was going on. “I ain’t never gonna be able to do this.”

“Come on, baby,” Fran crooned. “You said you’d try. It’ll be fun once you get it going!”

“I can’t get it up,” Spud’s amplified voice complained to the entire Block. “It won’t come up.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the bar. Whatever my father and his girlfriend were up to, they’d managed to turn on the PA system and lock the button in the on position. A screech of feedback sounded, and from somewhere, Cracker let out a loud, soulful howl. I felt like joining him. Trying not to roll my eyes—because it would probably hurt—I poured two draft beers and served them to a couple of off-duty firefighters.

“It’s like riding a bike,” Fran told about twenty-five people, not including those sitting on the outside patio and any passersby who’d stopped to listen. “It seems impossible, but then all of a sudden, there you go! Pedaling down the street with the wind in your hair.”

Sloppy kissing noises filled the Block. “I know you can do it,” Fran said. “Come on, sweetie. Try it again, for me.”

Amplified shuffling noises filtered through, along with what sounded like a computer keyboard. “Dammit, woman, it won’t come up!”

The Block had fallen into a stunned silence. A few laughed out loud. I hustled into the kitchen, wondering why the cook hadn’t put a stop to my father’s exploits. Oddly, it was business as usual in the kitchen.

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