MALPRACTICE - A JEAN BELL MYSTERY CH. 2

Several months later, Jean was sitting in that same diner, carefully manicured fingers idly flicking the corners of the day's newspaper as she thought about her husband. She hadn't seen him since he'd boarded that plane. She received letters from him every few weeks, but it wasn't the same as having him home.

"What are you doing with that rag," Margie teased as she slid into the booth opposite Jean. Her sister-in-law had been at the Daily Press now for around nine months and seemed to be happy with her first job. But then, Margie always seemed happy. It was a refreshing change from her own melancholy thoughts. Jean blinked them away, refocusing on the present and looked across the table at the pink vinyl bench seat Margie was settling into. She offered a smile to the younger woman.

"I guess you already know about the Atlantis and the Devonshire," Jean said, by way of a greeting. Another confrontation between British and German ships had made the news.

"Yes. Good riddance to those awful Krauts," was the younger woman's reply, her sunny mood momentarily dimmed.

Jean winced slightly. She didn't like what was going on in Germany but still didn't feel comfortable using racial slurs against anyone. As a child, she'd had the benefit of being well-traveled. When her parents died, Jean was given over to the care of her Uncle Arthur. As a missionary doctor, he traveled the world with her in tow. It had given her a perspective her contemporaries often lacked. Margie mistook Jean's look of discomfort for concern. She reached her hand across to Jean's and gave it a reassuring pat.

"Don't worry about Teddy, honey. He was far away from all of that."

"How can you be sure? I haven't had any news from him in almost three weeks. That's the problem with being on a ship, the mail takes so long to make it home. Have you and your mother received any news? Do you know if he'll get leave for the holidays?"

Before Margie could answer, they were interrupted by Doris with a pot of hot coffee. The sturdy waitress was built like a bulldog in a pink apron. People often mistook her matter-of-fact demeanor for rudeness. Her dishwater blonde hair was almost always drawn up in a severe ponytail, which added to the overall brusque and unfriendly impression. Once she warmed up to someone, however, her wry sense of humor came out. Jean and Margie had been coming to Pinkie's long enough now to realize that Doris was no-nonsense, but also as protective as a mother hen.

Doris poured a fresh cup for Margie and topped off Jean's cooling mug. As the aroma of the fresh brew wafted up to them, Doris asked if they were ready to order. Jean requested a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup and Margie wanted ham on rye with French fries. After Doris had wandered off behind the pink Formica counter with their orders, Margie removed the newspaper from the table, folded it in half, and slapped it down beside her on the bench.

"It's a whole 24 days until Christmas, Jean. What we need to focus on now is the dance."

"The dance?" Jean wondered if she'd missed something.

"Yes, the dance! Or hadn't you heard about the most exciting event in town." Her auburn curls bounced with emphasis.

"Oh, you mean that dance." Jean remembered overhearing the other nurses at work carrying on about it the day before. The Newport News Civic Pride Committee had announced they were putting on a holiday dance for the city, to help lift spirits. How they were getting the funds for such a thing, she didn't know, but there were reports that a live band was providing the entertainment. Since Teddy had left, Jean didn't go out much. She went to the hospital of course, the grocers, and the church on Sundays. Other than her weekly lunch with Margie, most of her free time was spent on household chores, keeping up with the world news, and writing letters to Teddy and Uncle Arthur. Hardly any of the other women she knew were married, with the exception of her neighbor, Ruth. Consequently, most of their activities centered around meeting eligible men.

"Oh, please say you'll go," urged Margie, squeezing Jean's hand.

It was difficult to say no to Margie when she had her heart set on something. Her eyes were the same color blue as her brother's. Jean knew it would be good for her to do some socializing. It wasn't improving her mental health any sitting around at home worrying. Still, she felt odd going to a dance without a partner.

"I don't know, Margie," she said noncommittally. "I'm such a wallflower without Teddy around."

The younger woman made a dismissive sound. "Oh, please. You can dance with anyone. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that. You could ask one of those guys," she teased, using her chin to indicate the booth over Jean's shoulder. Rather than twisting around in her seat, Jean discreetly took out her compact and pretended to check her reflection. She angled it slightly so that the gentlemen behind her were framed in its small round mirror.

There were two men seated across from one another in the neighboring booth. Although they were both clad in navy blue business suits, they couldn't have looked more mismatched. The one with his back toward her was the larger of the two. He was gesticulating as he spoke and she could see the back of his neck and ears were sweaty and flushed. The other man was thin and sallow. His dark hair was neatly parted, but his eyebrows were drawn together. His thin lips were pressed closed so tightly they were almost white, the corners of his mouth turned downward. Jean clicked her compact closed.

She leaned toward Margie and said in a low voice, "They don't seem like they're in the mood for dancing."

"I wonder what they're arguing about," Margie whispered back.

Just then, Doris returned with their lunch. They must have both been hungry because their curiosity about the two men vanished at the sight of food. It wasn't until she'd gotten halfway through her sandwich that Jean's attention returned to the voices coming from the booth behind her. The larger man seemed very agitated.

"And how'd you like Mr. Bartholomew to find out, eh?" he was practically shouting. A few other people in the diner looked in their direction. "If you don't like my offer, you can…" he continued, but the other man, cut in.

"Would you lower your voice," he hushed. And then, barely loud enough for Jean to catch, "You're making a scene."

The raised voices had caught Doris's attention and she gave a sidelong glance to another waitress behind the counter before sauntering toward the booth. She topped off the mens' coffee cups. It must have been a reflex for her by now.

As she poured, she casually said, "Gentlemen, can I get you something else?"

"No thanks," the thin man said, "I was just leaving." He opened his wallet, tossed a few bills on the pink Formica table, and then stormed out. The other man seemed to calm a little, realizing he was disturbing the other diners.

"No, thank you. I'll take the bill," he mumbled to the waitress. With a short nod, she headed back the way she'd come. The patrons who had been distracted returned to their meals and the background noise resumed its previous volume. Jean could hear the man slurping his fresh cup of Joe.

She finished up the last few spoonfuls of her soup as Margie, already done with her sandwich, started filling her in on the details of the dance between bites of French fry. Still hoping to persuade Jean to attend, the younger woman described the dress she was planning to wear and gave a short list of her friends who were going. Then, she moved on to talk about the Daily Press' plans to cover the event. She was in the process of politely suggesting that Jean do something with her hair when Doris came to tempt them with a slice of chocolate silk pie. Although the pie at Pinkey's Diner was locally famous, both women declined politely and the waitress left their check.

Putting on a show of needing more convincing than she actually did, Jean finally relented.

"Okay. Count me in. I haven't been out in months anyway. It'll be good to hear some music." Her sister-in-law gave a little hop of excitement in her seat, nearly knocking over her coffee. She clapped her hands together.

"Yay! Oh, we're going to have such fun, Jean. You'll see." With that, the pair stood up to go. She was reaching for her purse when Jean was bumped rudely from behind and nearly lost her balance. She spun around, intending to scold the man behind her. But, when she turned, she saw that he was hunched over the table. Her annoyance at almost being knocked over evaporated and she realized something was terribly wrong.