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    Verna Mae's
    Verna Mae's
    Verna Mae's
    Ebook168 pages2 hours

    Verna Mae's

    By Geoffrey A. Feller

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    About this ebook

    Natalie Dvorak #11: Sergeant Natalie Dvorak of the Vermont State Police starts the first day of the New Year with a crime. Someone has opened and robbed the safe inside Verna Mae’s diner, a popular eatery along the highway. There was no break-in and Natalie assumes this was an inside job. Every employee is a suspect but none have an obvious motive. Tensions and secrets emerge among the people Natalie investigates, generating false leads and prompting additional crimes. Meanwhile, Natalie’s faith in her husband is tested when he helps a new female colleague settle in at town hall. Over and over, when Natalie thinks she is in control, new developments cause the ground to shift under her feet both figuratively and literally, to the point of threatening Natalie’s life.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGeoffrey A. Feller
    Release dateMay 28, 2020
    ISBN9780463916803
    Verna Mae's
    Author

    Geoffrey A. Feller

    I was born fifty-seven years ago in the Bible belt but grew up in a Massachusetts college town. I am married and my wife and I have moved frequently since we met. We've lived in Minnesota, Massachusetts, and New Mexico, as well as a brief residency in Berlin, Germany. I have worked peripherally in health care, banking, and insurance. In addition to writing, I have done a bit of amateur acting and comedy performances. I am afraid of heights but public speaking doesn't scare me. My wife and I live in Albuquerque with our chihuahua.

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      Book preview

      Verna Mae's - Geoffrey A. Feller

      VERNA MAE’S

      by Geoffrey A. Feller

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2020 by Geoffrey A. Feller

      CHAPTER ONE:

      THE FIRST CRIME OF THE YEAR

      Vermont State Trooper Jim Ross approached the driver’s side door of the black Ford Escort that he’d pulled over for speeding twelve miles north of Rutland on Highway 7. There was a chill in the air for this late-November afternoon and Ross was glad to be in his cold weather uniform. The cloudy sky justified the headlights that had illuminated the rear license plate in front of him. Ross knew by now that nothing had been found on the wants and warrants list associated with the plate number according to the radio dispatcher. All the same, the young Field Force officer was ready to draw his sidearm in case of trouble.

      The driver turned out to be a calm, middle-aged woman, somewhat overweight with dark hair and a round face. She was cooperative and correctly answered the question, Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?

      Her passenger was a bit younger, much thinner, and seemed more hostile than the driver. Ross kept aware of the man’s movements as he took the woman’s license and insurance card.

      Ross wondered if the thin man had anything to hide or was just one of those citizens with a general hostility for police of any type. He read the name on the license: Grace Dunn and noted that she lived in Brandon, not far from the highway.

      Ma’am, I’ll just run a routine check from my cruiser, Ross said. Be back in a few minutes.

      Thank you, officer, Grace replied, her voice husky from a smoking habit that dated back to her early teen years.

      The thin man kept quiet. Ross had no cause to ID him and as long as the passenger didn’t cause trouble, he could ignore the man’s attitude.

      Grace Dunn of Brandon had a clean record so Ross walked back up to the Escort to deliver some good news.

      Ma’am, you were only ten miles above the limit so I’ll let you off with a warning this time. It’s starting to get dark out and it’s all the more important to drive carefully.

      Yes, officer, Grace said, taking back the license and insurance card. Thanks; I appreciate it.

      She waited until Ross got back inside the Green Field Force cruiser before restarting the engine.

      He didn’t ask about me, the passenger said.

      Why should he?

      Why shouldn’t he?

      You didn’t do anything suspicious. And if you’re wondering why I didn’t say I was bringing a new short-order cook in from the bus station, it’s because you never volunteer information to the police, especially when it’s going to be a lie.

      "But I am going to be your new short-order cook."

      Grace pulled back onto the highway and accelerated only up to the posted speed limit.

      You’re the criminal, Glenn, she added. You ought to know better than to talk to the police at all.

      Glenn sighed.

      Damn it, I’m not a career criminal!

      Amateurs can do time right along with professionals. Yeah, you really do need my help.

      Glenn nodded as Grace checked the rear view mirror for the cruiser.

      Just don’t forget to call me Harry from now on, he said.

      Natalie Dvorak watched the TV screen in the living room of her house, standing next to her husband, Dan Moritz. Despite the champagne glasses in their hands, the middle-aged couple had dressed in jeans and sweaters.

      Natalie was small yet strong, her brunette hair hanging in a ponytail. She turned away from the TV screen to gaze up at Dan with her dark blue eyes; the top of her head came barely above the level of his shoulders. Dan hugged her around the waist with his free arm.

      Looking back once again at the TV set with its live image of Times Square in Manhattan, Natalie read aloud the numbers as they counted down from 10.

      Dan dipped his head down to kiss Natalie as the arrival of 1986 was celebrated by thousands of strangers not in the room with them. Ignoring the televised spectacle, the couple went from kissing to sipping their champagne. Before long, the unfinished drinks remained on the coffee table as Natalie rode in Dan’s arms towards the bedroom upstairs.

      What are you thinking about? Natalie asked two hours into Wednesday morning.

      She was lying on top of Dan, running her fingertips down his face.

      Nothing too interesting, he said.

      Interesting, not interesting. What is it?

      The milestones for the new year.

      Milestones?

      That it’s going to be our third wedding anniversary. And five years since we met. And that my daughter is going to be twenty years old.

      And that I’ll be forty-four, Natalie sighed. You left one middle-aged woman for another middle-aged woman.

      So what? Dan asked, rolling onto his side, carrying Natalie with him.

      They kissed briefly.

      So what about you? Dan asked. What were you thinking about?

      How I hated that we weren’t together the New Year’s Eve after we started seeing each other. I wanted to be with you but of course you spent the night with Michelle.

      So did you find another man? Dan asked with a smirk.

      I did, Natalie said after enough hesitation to show it wasn’t a joke.

      Dan scowled.

      I don’t like that, he muttered.

      We were still casual at the time and you were still married…

      I know you weren’t technically cheating under the circumstances but I still don’t have to like it.

      I don’t expect you to. Want to hear all about it?

      You want to confess or you wouldn’t have brought it up. Go on.

      It didn’t go well, Natalie said. If that helps.

      Maybe. Let’s hear it.

      I went to the Prentice Hotel and crashed this conference party. I left my badge and gun at home so no one would know I’m a cop. I said I was a legal secretary. I picked up a hotel guest so we could go up to his room right before midnight.

      How convenient, Dan muttered.

      I was only looking for someone to use, an out-of-towner; no threat to you.

      Were you drunk?

      Kind of buzzed.

      Did he look like me?

      Natalie shook her head.

      I wasn’t trying to find a substitute Dan. He wasn’t big and strong like you. Kind of average all around.

      "All around?"

      Yes, Danny, Natalie sighed impatiently. He was smaller in every way. That’s such an important detail to you men.

      All right, all right. Didn’t go well, you said. Sounds like you were having a good time so far.

      Oh, Dan! You were in bed with your wife, all warm and snuggly against Michelle’s lingerie model curves…

      So you were getting back at me somehow, was that it?

      Natalie sat up on the mattress.

      I shouldn’t have told you, she said softly.

      But you did. You didn’t enjoy it because you felt guilty, then?

      Partly. I got the idea that this guy didn’t like my body after I took off my bulky sweater. Muscles too big, tits too small…

      He actually said that? Dan asked, pulling Natalie back down beside him.

      In a way. He thought he was being funny, asking what I needed a bra for. Asked if I would’ve beaten him up if he hadn’t let me screw him. Real funny, that kind of rape humor.

      "And you could’ve done him some damage with your taekwondo."

      He had nothing to worry about. We got it on but I walked out on him fast and felt guilty about it ever since.

      Dan kissed the back of Natalie’s neck.

      So I’m forgiven? she asked.

      I can’t forgive you when there wasn’t a betrayal. If you had to get laid, I wish you’d had a better time.

      Natalie smiled but didn’t believe Dan meant it.

      Dan was the only policeman in the town of Holbrook, population slightly more than 200, and didn’t need to open the town office’s constabulary for the holiday. The Vermont State Police was, however, open 365 days a year—366 days in leap years—and Natalie headed out to the Rutland barracks in her personal car, a nine year old Volkswagen Rabbit. Although the real trouble usually happened on New Year’s Eve rather than the day after, Natalie would still have liked to spend the morning with Dan.

      The old car’s heater was not working up to its original capacity and it took the whole drive from Holbrook to the highway before Natalie’s exhalation wasn’t showing as vapor. The tape player wouldn’t work when the weather was this cold but the radio was on, tuned to a classic rock station.

      It was still dark out at a quarter past seven and the neon sign on the roof of Verna Mae’s Diner was visible a few miles south from the turn Natalie had taken onto the highway.

      Even as she wished there was time for a nice breakfast at the diner before reporting to work at the Rutland barracks, Natalie was suddenly aware of blue and red flashes from what had to be a lightbar on the roof of a police cruiser. As a regular customer at Verna Mae’s, she pressed the accelerator with a sense of anxiety, worrying about the welfare of the people who worked there. Natalie pulled into the parking lot to her right and came to a stop next to a Field Force unit. The trooper had evidently gone inside the diner.

      Natalie stepped out of her car and made sure the badge was properly displayed on the outside of her coat, hanging it on a thin chain around her neck. Of course, chances were that any trooper on the scene would know who she was anyway.

      There were two other cars in the lot, a pair of small sedans. Natalie knew that Verna Mae’s usually served food around the clock but had perhaps shut down overnight for the holiday. In any event, the vehicles were parked farther from the entrance than likely customers.

      Walking up the three concrete steps to the breezeway, Natalie saw a the CLOSED sign displayed in the middle of the glass door and a small notice reading Under New Management. Natalie had first seen that sign several months ago and wondered how long it was meant to be worth mentioning.

      Although the diner was closed, the door wasn’t locked. Natalie pushed it open and stepped over the threshold. She walked through the breezeway and found the inner door unlocked as well.

      Natalie was aware that the original owner, Stuart Trevor, had opened the diner right after World War II, naming it after his mother. Trevor sold the establishment after twenty years to a middle aged couple who’d been running the place when Natalie first came across it. While a significant percentage of the clientele were travelers interested in local color, there were enough local regulars in two counties that the name Verna Mae’s Diner remained intact after each transition.

      Natalie had already met Grace Dunn a few times after the forty-eight year old divorced woman had bought the place over the summer. She was relieved to see Grace standing by the counter with Trooper Gould; the woman showed no signs of injury or serious distress. Grace and Gould interrupted their conversation to look at Natalie.

      Sergeant, Gould said, it’s a little early for you to catch the call.

      All I caught was a view of your flashing lights. What’s going on?

      Someone stole the register cash, Gould told

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