This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/DrElsewhere on 2024-10-19 18:39:32+00:00.
I was outside the diner smoking a cigarette when the cops rolled into the parking lot.
The pair was in an unmarked car, which meant they were experienced - it takes time to get to the level of wearing plain clothes when you’re on duty. There was only one reason a couple of high-ranking law enforcement agents would be here in Edwards and I knew why. Everyone in town did.
Three murdered . . . in three months.
I’ve had a good sense of hearing for a long time, and as the two cops walked toward the diner I could hear them discussing between themselves on how to handle the interview.
Interview?
Shit.
I tossed my cigarette butt on the ground and offered them a pleasant smile.
“Hey, y’all,” I said with my drawled Southern accent. “Come on in, get some breakfast. Can I get you fellas some coffee?”
The two men were tall and well-manicured: clean shaven faces, no nonsense haircuts. They wore the same cologne, which I thought was funny, but their suits were different.
“Sounds great, ma’am,” Navy Suit said. “I take my coffee black.”
“Cream and sugar for me,” Gray Suit said.
They took a booth by the front window and I went around the counter to find Lola bringing out three plates of breakfast food. The plate balancing on her forearm tilted and I reached to grab it before it dumped eggs all over the customers sitting at the counter.
“Thanks, Grace,” Lola said. “Great reflexes.”
“When you’ve worked at diners as long as I have, you learn how to spot accidents before they happen.”
Grace nodded toward our newest customers with a puzzled look.
“Cops, I think.” I said. “I’m getting their coffee now.”
I brought them their drinks and took a notepad out of my apron. The faster they ate they faster they could leave. Everyone in the diner knew why they were here and it was making the customers nervous.
“What’ll it be, boys? You seem like waffle men to me.”
They didn’t watch my smile, but instead looked at my chest.
“We’re not here for breakfast, ma’am,” Navy Suit said. “We’re here to see you.”
“Me?”
Gray Suit pointed to the name tag on my chest. “Your name is Grace? Grace Burton?”
I nodded.
Navy Suit stood and offered his hand. “I’m Detective Hartwig, this is Detective Cable. We’re from upstate and have been called in to assist in the ongoing investigation-”
“Let me stop you right there, detective.” My voice was more acidic than necessary. “I know why you’re here. Everyone does. In a town with 1,034 people-”
“1,031 people now, ma’am.”
I stared at my feet. Hartwig moved into the booth with his partner and pointed across the table. “Please sit. We only want to ask a few questions.”
“If I refuse?”
Hartwig gestured to his coffee. “We could finish these . . . at the police station.”
I rolled my eyes then sat across from them.
Cable removed a folder from his inner jacket pocket and scanned the papers inside. “It says here you are 62 years old.”
“That’s correct.”
He smiles. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you don’t look a day over forty.”
“I get that a lot. I’m a vegetarian. What do you gentlemen want?”
Hartwig straightened his tie. “When you were 25 years old you were involved in an incident at this diner.”
My skin grew cold. “You want to know about what happened in 1987?”
“Yes. Particularly the events that lead to the death of your boyfriend at the time -” he looked at his notes - “Peter Callen.”
“Why do you want me to bring up painful memories, detectives?”
“Three people have been murdered in Edwards over the last few months,” Cable seethed. “We’ve been gathering information from the past about this small Mississippi town and your file came up. There have only been two major incidents of homicides in Edwards: now and in 1987. And you’re the only connection between the two.”
Hartwig quickly added, “We aren’t saying you’re a suspect, mind you, but we refuse to leave any stone left unturned. We’ve seen the briefs about your testimony from that night, but we want to hear it from your own mouth, Ms. Burton.”
“Okay.” I grabbed Cable’s coffee for myself and took a sip. The men traded glances. “My shift at the diner started late that night. I remember walking through the parking lot and being amazed. The moon was so full and bright it left shadows under the cars.”
I pulled my 1980 Chevy Citation into the lot and reapplied my lipstick while Bob Seger blasted over the radio. The song was from his newest album, Like a Rock. Great album by the way. Anyway, I got out of my car and walked toward the building. Like I said, the moon was so bright that night.
I’d been working at Silver Spoon Diner for two years, so I knew what to expect. The usuals ate earlier, before my shift started, so the only ones stopping in a diner that late were those society might deem uncouth: truckers coming back to empty houses; randoms just passing through on their way to Jackson; insomniacs wasting another sleepless night; people running from trouble or people running toward trouble.
I came into work every day with a smile on my face and that night was no different. Wendy, another waitress, greeted me with a hug, a Marlboro Red 100 propped between her lips. Back then everyone smoked. The diner itself could get foggy during busy hours from the secondhand smoke. Anyway, Wendy walked with me to the back while I put my personables in my locker.
Since I had worked at the diner the longest, I had a copy of the key that locked the front and back doors. I slipped it in my pocket then put on my waitress apron while Wendy went on about a new movie she’d just watched in theaters.
Wendy removed her cigarette. “Oh, you should have seen him, Grace. He was lifting her so high and spinning her around like she was weightless.”
“So I should go see it?”
“It’s worth the $3.50 movie ticket price to see Patrick Swayze. When he took his shirt off I was drooling . . . like, literally, drooling.”
“Big whoop. You know how Peter gets when I look at other men. He’s the most jealous boyfriend ever.”
Wendy kissed the air and rolled her eyes. “More Swayze for me then.”
She went to help customers while I made a circuit around the kitchen. Our cook, Penny, dropped some thin bacon on the stovetop with a sizzle. He was athletic and tall, but an injury took away his chances at a football scholarship. He was hilarious though, and worked his ass off.
“What’s up, G,” he called when he saw me. “It’s been a slow night. You’re lucky.”
“Slow night means slow tips.”
“Word. I feel that. I only have a few hours left until I’m outta here. Marco should be in soon to take my place.”
I went to the front of the diner right as a man in a tan suit came in. It was rare to find someone like that in here this late at night but I assumed he was traveling for business or something. I took the notepad out of my apron and offered him a smile. Smiles always increase tips.
“What’ll you have, darling?”
“Water and coffee to start.” He scanned the menu. “And since my name is Toast, I’ll have three pieces of toast. Strawberry jelly too.”
I jotted down his order. “Your name is Toast?”
“Robert Toast.” He patted his pocket then gave me a business card. “I’m a real estate agent. I’m traveling to Texas for a convention.” He held up his briefcase. “You in the market for a new home?”
I winked. “Depends how much you tip me.”
I left him laughing and went to the prep area to hang the ticket for Penny. Wendy found me with a worried look on her face.
“He’s such a fucking asshole,” she whispered.
“Who?” I asked.
“Bill. He told me he wanted some chicken breasts . . . hold the chicken.”
We all knew Bill. He was a trucker with irregular hours, but preferred to drive at night. He usually ate at the diner before he got on the road. He was young, around my age, and he had a thick bushy mustache and wore very tight jeans that showed his bulge. All the waitresses at the diner knew he wore them to try to impress us but it had the opposite effect. He was boorish, lewd, and a pervert. I told Wendy to switch customers with me and she obliged.
“Ah, Grace,” Bill said as I approached him with his plate of waffles and bacon. “Two waitresses in one night. It’s not the first time I’ve had two women in one night.”
“I doubt it.”
I turned to go but he grabbed my wrist. “Hold on, girl.”
I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Feisty. I love em’ feisty.” He laughed harshly. “I dropped my straw on the floor. Can you bend down and get it for me? Bend really . . . really . . . low.”
“I’ll get a new one from the back.” I left before he could keep being a creep and went behind the counter to help a woman sitting with her young son. She had on a button-up shirt and her name tag said “Erin”. It was clear she’d worked all day in retail, probably a double shift. She looked absolutely exhausted but her child was wound up like a ball of energy.
“How can I help you, ma’am.”
“Hash browns and two waffles. Does that sound good, Jonah?” Her son tapped his little fingers on the napkin box and giggled. The noise was an irritant to his mother who patted him gently to stop. He didn’t.
Feeling bad for the fatigued mother and wanting to help in any way I could, I got close to the little boy and acted like I was telling him a secret. “If you’ll stay on your best behavior, and don’t make a mess, I’ll give you some free ice cream later.”
Jonah’s face lit up and he looked at his mother for reassurance. She nodded then mouthed “Thank you” to me. The kid stopped tapping the box and sat very still.
Fifteen or twenty minute…
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