15. Rock Tuff, P.I.: The Dumb Waiter

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I slipped out and checked the dumpster – no sign of the fruit. Was I suffering from a hyperactive imagination? Later, However Pierre said the food was still disappearing.

Monday night was more leisurely, so I watched Lucy more closely than ever and when she took more bags to the dumpster, I waited till she returned and had gone into the dining room, then watched from a window. Three male figures appeared and quickly removed the bags. I stepped out the door. “May I help you gentlemen?”

They looked startled. I hoped they would not attack me because I could not fight all three of them, or even one. I am a non-violent detective, but how could they know that? They began to leave.

“It won’t go well for Lucy if you run away.”

They stayed.

“Now who are you and what is going on?”

They held their bags tightly, as if they were Christmas presents about to be taken away.

“I’m Lucy’s brother. Me and my friends are out of work and we’re broke and hungry. Lucy was just tryin’ to help us. The people who come here can afford to eat expensive food like pigs.”

So Lucy was a one-women food bank or Salvation Army kitchen, I thought, not without some sympathy. What should I do? If I told Pierre, he would probably fire her, and her brother and his friends would lose their larcenous larder-but she was stealing. Then I had an idea: “Take the food and I’ll see what I can arrange.”

After closing, when Pierre and I were alone, I told him what I had discovered. He was angry at Lucy, and disappointed, and wanted to fire her, but I suggested an alternative. “You don’t want to lose a good waitress. Suppose you let her give all discarded food to her brother and his friends – but no fresh stuff. And maybe she could give them all her tip money. That way you keep a valuable employee. And now, with the case closed, I’ll be leaving, so that you might even be able to give him a job. He could probably do as good a job as I’ve done.”

I hoped he might disagree, but he didn’t.

“That’s right, Mr. Tuff.” He didn’t seem sorry to lose me.

He did, however, pay me and added three passes, each good for two free dinners. Hmm, Amanda might be impressed if we dined there, but what would I do if she liked the place and wanted to go there after I ran out of passes?

As I left the Cochon, I thought of a variation on a line from Milton’s “On His Blindness”: “They also serve who only stand and waiter.”

 

The Dumb Waiter

author
Gary E. Miller spent 29 years trying to teach English at several high schools in Ontario. In 1995, he made his greatest contribution to education by retiring. He now spends his time in rural Richmond, reading voraciously and eclectically, and occasionally writing stories and poems which do nothing to elevate the level of Canadian literature.
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