The car park was almost deserted under the welcoming glow of the neon sign. It was mostly a truck stop at this time of night. nondescript sedan swung into a car space. A woman got out and walked purposefully toward the door of the 24 hour diner. A place to rest along the highway.
She pushed the door open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the icy air. Her glance swept over the near empty restaurant. A few truckers sat hunched over Phones or newspapers, sipping coffee. The woman paused before heading to the counter.
"What'll it be?" A spotty gum chewing young woman who was barely out of her teens asked.
"I'll take some coffee," the woman replied. "And the waffles with bacon and cream."
It figures, Spotty Girl thought, as she tapped in the order. The woman was tall and svelte. The kind of woman who still looked willowy even in a long grey coat. It looked expensive.
Probably Burberry or some other brand Spotty could never afford. Besides, she would look a lumbering elephant in such a thing.
The woman had an equally expensive looking red scarf wound around her swan like neck and straight long blonde hair. She obviously spent a fortune on that hair. It was impeccable, even at this ungodly hour. She was almost a dead ringer for that Gwyneth Paltrow. Spotty couldn't stand her.
Blondie tapped her card briskly to pay, then slipped into a booth near the entrance. She bent over her phone. Every so often her eyes flicked towards the entrance, then peered out into the dark car park. She must be expecting someone.
Spotty, whose real name, Frances, was emblazoned on the badge pinned to her smock type uniform, saw this kind of thing reasonably often during these graveyard shifts. Clandestine meetings. A secret rendezvous. Suburban soccer mums, middle aged dads. Meeting their lover in the dead of the night. Injecting some excitement in their otherwise stagnant lives.
Frances/Spotty poured endless cup after cup of coffee night after night and nobody ever noticed her. Nobody flirted or asked for her number. She was free to people watch.
"Order's up!" Nick, the short order cook snapped. She'd be scolded for daydreaming again. She shuffled over and placed the food in front of Blondie. There was no thank you. No acknowledgement. No common courtesy, as Trudie often lamented.
Her older sister had taken on a parental role since Mum had passed away a few years ago. Dad had taken off when they were little. She could barely remember him. Spotty set about polishing tables.
Minutes later, a man in a blue hoodie entered the diner and casually slid into the booth opposite Blondie. Her expression changed. Soon they were talking, their voices urgent. Blondie became more and more animated in between bites of bacon and waffles.
Spotty began polishing the tables behind them. Not that they needed polishing. But she had to keep busy, she reasoned.
"Are you sure?" Hoodie was saying. They huddled in closer.
"I just want her GONE!"
Spotty was all ears now. Perhaps Blondie was ordering a hit on her lover's wife? Or her husband's girlfriend?
Nah, she'd been watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds.
That's what Trudie would say. "You need to get out more! Meet people."
"I'm around people all the time at work."
That was just another bone of contention. "How can you date when you work night shift?" Trudie wailed. As if there was a line of men vying to date her.
Blondie was smiling now. Positively jubilant. "Can't wait till that bitch is dead!"
Spotty placidly kept polishing even as her heart skipped a beat
. She'd become skilled at eavesdropping if nothing else.
"Five thousand," Hoodie named his price.
Blondie pouted then smiled coquettishly "I can give you three... and...sex..." she laughed.
Spotty went back to the counter reluctantly as another trucker ambled into the diner.
Dawn was beginning to creep in through the darkness. The neon sign a beacon in the fog. Soon the breakfast rush would begin in earnest. Spotty's shift would end.
She noticed Blondie get up to use the rest room as she finished serving the trucker. Presumably to rid herself of all those calories. Women like her never digested such food.
Spotty was grateful it was knock off time. She didn't want the odious task of cleaning any resultant mess in the ladies room. Wouldn't be the first time she was roped into it, despite janitor not being her job title.
Outside, Spotty adjusted her backpack and lit a cigarette. A quick one before she got the bus back to the burbs. It was light now, with clearing fog. It was going to be a sunny winter's day.
Blondie was strutting back to her car. Spotty glanced back inside. Hoodie was nowhere to be seen.
Spotty watched the men approach Blondie. She didn't flinch when the plain clothed detectives flashed their badges.
"You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder."
Spotty stared. Holy shit! This was AWESOME. A real life criminal minds in the car park at work!
Blondie denied any wrongdoing as they continued reading her rights. But Spotty knew what she'd heard. Besides, it would all be on the diner's CCTV cameras. Blondie wasn't a very smart criminal for all her surface elegance.
The neon sign flickered off as Blondie was taken away.
Spotty headed to the bus stop, phone to ear.
"Trudie? You'll never guess what just happened..."
The End.
Written for Festival Of Words 2018 Day 7 using the above photo prompt. (And unlike Spotty, I've clearly been watching/listening to too much true crime stuff...😃)
Aaaaaand that's a wrap. It's been fun!
Thanks for reading.
Linking up with Write Tribe for Festival Of Words.
