Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 131, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 799 & 800, March/April 2008

Large hands, whisking a couple of eggs in a metal bowl.

“Mark my words, you start paying the state reps more, you’ll get more laws and regulations, that’s what you’ll get, and that’s what we don’t need.”

She watched him for a bit. Jason Lovell. Owner and chief cook and dishwasher of the Have a Seat grill.

Her potential interview subject.

And then, as the waitress approached her, plate of scrambled eggs in her hand, she thought of something else.

If she was lucky, very lucky, perhaps her savior.

There are whirlwind romances, and there are romances that move at the speed of hurricanes. And such had been the case with her and Casey Riley. That night — or early morning — he had brought her a drink and had cornered her in a relatively quiet area of the bar, a nice place north of the Financial District, and after the usual give and take of who are you, and what are you doing (she: BU and then Columbia Journalism School, lucky-break internship that led to the Wall Street Journal ; he: CCNY and then a variety of jobs at various trading firms on Wall Street), he smiled at her with soft brown eyes that had an adorable crinkle about them in the corner, and he said, “Look. I don’t want to be too forward here, but how about breakfast?”

And though she had thought him pretty good-looking in a rugged kind of way, she thought he was moving way too fast, and he had laughed and said, “Just breakfast, that’s all. I know a nice little place. You’ll love it.”

Elaine had checked her watch. “Where? It’s only one a.m. I’m not really that hungry.”

He grabbed her purse, gently too her forearm. “This place is great. It’s in Victoria.”

Head spinning, not sure why she was letting him lead her on, she had said, “Victoria? Where’s that? In Connecticut?”

“Nope,” he had said, leading her to the door. “British Columbia.”

God, how she had laughed, right through him bundling her into a cab, and then a quick run out to LaGuardia, and in a matter of just a few more minutes she had been put into a private jet, some sort of Gulfstream model, and a few hours later, she had seen the sun rise above the Rocky Mountains and decided she liked very much being with Mr. Casey Riley, and wanted to see much more of him in the future.

The waitress dropped off the plate and scurried off and Elaine sprinkled some salt and pepper and took a bite. Though her jaw ached a bit, she was amazed at the taste and consistency of the eggs. In diner visits past — and not too many, she had to confess — eggs were either cold or overcooked or lumped to one side and so stiff they had to be cut with a knife. But not these; they were light and fluffy, had a wonderful consistency that almost seemed to melt in her mouth, and she ate them so quickly she was disappointed when she had finished.

The noise in the diner seemed to move in cycles, louder and softer, and then louder again, and when the waitress came back and said, “Anything else, hon?” Elaine looked at her and said, “No, just the check. please.”

“ ’Kay,” and with that, a slip of paper was put on the table, but before she went away, Elaine said, “Excuse me, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Could... could I see Jason Lovell, the owner? Could I see him for a moment?”

The waitress’s eyes narrowed, like that of a mama bear seeing someone getting too close to one of her cubs. “Is there a problem? You didn’t like your breakfast?”

Elaine said, “No, no, there’s no problem. The eggs were delicious. I... I just need to talk to him.”

The waitress glanced over at the grill. “He’s pretty busy.”

“I know. It’ll take just a minute. That’s all.”

She shrugged and walked away, and Elaine glanced at the check — three dollars and fifty cents, can you believe it! — and when she looked up again, Jason Lovell was striding towards her, wiping his big hands in a towel.

Oh yeah. She had interviewed bankers and senators, congressmen and unindicted co-conspirators in various business shenanigans, but never had she been so nervous, feeling her heart thump away like that, as Jason came closer.

The day of her marriage she had been talking about something to her cousin Tracy when Mother came and gently tugged at her elbow. “Just a minute, that’s all I need,” she had said as Mother brought her to a corner of the function room that was used to store additional chairs. She tried to stifle a sigh as Mother looked her over. Father had left her years ago, and much to the surprise of friends and relatives, Elaine had taken Father’s side in the whole mess. Mother had a sharp eye and sharper tongue, had grown up protesting in the streets during the ‘sixties, and from Elaine’s point of view, Mother saw everything in life as just one more assault against one more barricade, no matter who or what the barricade was.

And then, surprise of surprises, Mother kissed her on the cheek, and when she drew back, there were tears in her eyes.

“Mother... what’s up?” Elaine said.

Dressed in a light-blue gown that was no doubt going to be donated next day to some charitable outfit, Mother said, “I can’t believe this day has come... and that you’re married.”

That had brought a smile to her face. “Can’t believe your little girl has gone out on her own?”

Mother had shaken her head. “No... I can’t believe you chose him, that’s all.”

Something cold formed in her chest. “Mother, please, not now. Not today.”

Another quick shake of the head. “All right. Just remember I said this. I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, and I never will.”

“Why? What has he ever done?”

Mother wiped at her cheeks, drawing away the tears. “Nothing. That’s the problem. It’s what he’s going to do that scares me.”

“How’s that?”

“His eyes.”

Elaine couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “His eyes? That’s it? His eyes?” And thinking at the same time that it was Casey’s eyes that had first attracted her to him.

A firm nod from her mother. “His eyes. They’re lizard eyes. They change color depending on his moods... and I can tell he has very dark moods in him, Elaine. Very dark moods.”

And that had been too much, and Elaine had said something like, oh, did you see that in your crystal readings or something? And with that, she had gone back to the celebration, back to the man of her life, the man with the laughing brown eyes.

Before her, Jason Lovell sat down, face open and friendly, a bit curious. “Help you with something?”

She found her lips were quite dry. “My... my name is Elaine Fletcher.”

A huge hand held out, which she promptly shook. “Nice to meet you, Elaine. What’s up? And do you mind making it quick? Don’t want to let the orders back up.”

From her purse she pulled out a business card, slid it across the tabletop. “I’m a freelance writer. Used to be on staff at the Wall Street Journal—” and how that phrase tasted like cold ashes in her mouth — “and I was wondering if I could interview you.”

He examined the card, then looked at her with a bemused look. “Me? You want to interview me?”

“Yes, I would.”

“What for?”

“A human-interest story. About you and the diner.”

He looked about the diner. “Why? Must be dozens of these kinds of diners in this county alone. Why me, and why this one?”

She raised a hand. “Look at the place. It’s full. It’s always full. And the mix of your customers... I just think it’d be a fascinating look at a small-town diner, its owner, and its customers.”

For a moment Elaine wondered if she had gone too far, had laid it on too thick, for there was something wary about Jason’s expression, and she wondered just how smart he was. Pretty smart, from what she had been able to find out earlier, but still...