The Safe House: A twisty and totally addictive crime thriller (FBI Agent Susan Parker) by Sam Baron

Author:Sam Baron [Baron, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Storm Publishing
Published: 2024-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

Marge has a coffee pot in her hand as usual as she chats with a pair of beefy guys at a table. She looks up as the bells over the door jangle to announce our entrance. “Welcome!”

Paula and I take a corner table at the far end.

Despite its name, Gold Medal Coffee is basically a classic American diner, red upholstered booth seating, barstools lined up against the counter, and all. It used to be Gold Medal Diner until Marge’s husband Bill passed away, and she spruced up the place, changed the name and updated the menu to cater to the new upscale clientele from the city that were moving to the suburbs to raise families. It’s been known as Marge’s ever since.

“Nice to see you again, Susan,” Marge says politely as she comes over, pouring both of us complimentary cups of her trademark house coffee as always.

I asked her once why she gave it away free instead of selling it and she winked at me and said most people were nice enough that they felt obligated to then order a coffee off her menu and since all the menu coffees were gourmet brands priced at a premium, it helped cut out the loafers who would have otherwise just ordered the house coffee and sat nursing a dollar cup for hours. She makes an exception for locals she knows well, which apparently includes me now.

Marge acts as a barometer for me in SCV. I can usually gauge how the townsfolk feel about me by her reception. Right now, I’d say it’s lukewarm. That’s probably McD’s doing.

“Who do we have here?” she says, looking Paula over. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I, dear?”

Before Paula can answer, Marge holds up a beautifully manicured finger, tapping the long, lustrous painted fingernail on her cheek. “Don’t tell me, I’ve got it. Nate. Nate Sanderson. He brought you to the Boots in the Park concert, didn’t he? And the Cowboy Festival at the old ranch. We line danced together, as I recall. You cut a rug nicely. You two are an item, ain’t you?”

Paula shrugs. “We date from time to time. Nothing exclusive.”

“Well, good for you, girl. A girl needs to get laid. How about you, darling, you shacked up with anyone new?”

I just smile up at her without answering.

She bends down, her big head of blonde hair staying perfectly intact, and says in a conspiratorial tone, “Darling, I’m a widow, too, as you know. When my Bill died, I thought the earth might as well open up and swallow me whole. But I got over it. You wanna know how? Well, honey, here’s my two cents. The best way to get over a man is to get under another man. Take it from someone with a lot more mileage than both you young fillies put together!”

Luckily for me, right after we place our orders, someone else comes in and Marge is off to greet the new customers.

“She’s a force of nature,” I say.

Paula nods, apparently unflustered by Marge’s brassy manner.

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