Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross
Even though his mood was dark and broody, he made his way to the only diner in town that had the best burger within a hundred miles, hands down. Good old Mabel was nearing her eighties and still worked like a dog each day and ran a tight ship. Her employees knew better than to be late, rude, or come in with a dirty uniform. He admired her for that.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Mabel’s mind was as sharp as her tongue, and he took an instant liking to the blunt woman who wasn’t known for holding anything back. It didn’t hurt that Mabel treated Yasmine like a daughter, and he enjoyed watching the two women together—it was easy to see their deep bond.
And, although the food was amazing, there were more important reasons for coming here. This was the place to come for the latest gossip, the proverbial water cooler. His keen hearing was able to pick up on conversations, but Mabel would always fill him in regardless.
It hadn’t been easy selling Mabel on the fact that he was indeed a good man, but he finally enticed her into letting her guard down. That was when she made the switch from cool and all hustle and bustle to warm and chatty. Now, Mabel was always ready with a new name on her tongue and some terrible deed they’d done. Her motive for telling him, he hadn’t figured out yet, but no matter the reason, he was happy to have her as an honorary sidekick.
The little bell chimed as he pushed open the door, the delicious scent of fried food hitting him in the face.
“Well, hello there, tall, dark and handsome. Sit where you like. I’ll be with you shortly,” Mabel called out. Her tightly permed grey hair was the only thing that could be seen over the top of the saloon-style doors leading to the kitchen.
Wanting some privacy for this conversation, he made his way to the furthest booth away from everyone but waved and said, “Good day,” as he passed those already seated.
He picked up the daily paper lying on the table, an article titled, “Baby Snatcher: where could he have gone?” splashed across the front. The article claimed that the police had an arrest warrant out for the killer and that an anonymous tipster had turned the man in. Too bad they were never going to find him.
Prison was too good for people like him. They deserved exactly what he gave them. A one-way ticket to hell—if there was a hell, that is.
Mabel placed a cup of black coffee and a piece of cherry pie down for him before she flopped into the other side of the booth.
“Makes you sick, doesn’t it? And to think that piece of garbage ate in my restaurant. Would you believe he had the nerve to sit at the counter and eat my food every Saturday for as long as I can remember?” Mabel smacked her hand down on the table, getting the attention of the other booths. “No wonder his wife picked up and left him. She probably knew just what kind of sick he is.”
The restaurant became noisy again as people went back to their conversations. “I’ll tell you one thing if he ever shadows my door again, I will gladly beat him to death with my rolling pin! I hope that one burns in hell while he is hung up by his toenails.”
“I know that one will get what’s coming to him. You don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said.
“I hope so. Was that too ungodly to say, Father?” Mabel teased.
He’d learned pretty quickly that Mabel had her own code. He was pretty certain the worst thing she’d done was use her sharp tongue or purposely pour salt in a cup of coffee, but he did enjoy her enthusiasm.
He chuckled and sat the paper aside to take a bite of the pie. “Still the best pie I’ve ever eaten.”
“But is it better than the grandiose burger?”
“Oh, that is a tough call—I think I’ll have to go with a tie.” He smiled as Mabel’s face lit up.
“You always know how to butter me up. One of these days, I’ll give you my secret recipes. Someone might as well enjoy them when I’m dead and gone.”
“Don’t say that. You’re too young yet to think that way.” Dean gave her a wink, and Mabel blushed and gave a little chuckle.
“Please, we both know one of these days you’ll be reading over my cold corpse, and I don’t want any of those mushy sermons. No, I want it to be a big old celebration with daisies tied to every pew and a picnic in the park with food from my restaurant lining every table. Will you see to that Father? I’m counting on you.” She paused in her teasing rant, her smile slipping. “Sometimes I wish my Fred and I had been able to have children, but then I think of all the worry and pain I’ve seen in parents’ eyes, and I don’t know…”
Mabel turned her gaze from the window, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. Dean reached out and squeezed Mabel’s hand, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a half-hearted smile.
“Yasmine thinks of you like a mother. I have seen it in her eyes. I know that she will make sure that no matter what, you will always feel like you have family around.”
Mabel gave him a small smile.
“She is a special girl, the best heart I have ever seen and sweeter than my butter tarts.”
“Well, speaking of Yasmine, I wanted to talk to you about her.” Dean took another bite of the delicious pie before continuing. “I’m hoping you can help me with some information.”
“I’ll give it my best, but this old brain is not what it used to be.” Mabel smiled, all the sadness evaporating.
“We both know that’s not true.” Dean raised an eyebrow at Mabel, and she laughed.
Dean looked around and then lowered his voice, leaning forward as he whispered, “Do you know what happened to Yasmine? I just came from the funeral home, and she’s pretty upset over this tragedy with the young girls.” He tapped the paper on the table. “I’m worried about her. I’ve never seen her so distraught.”
“Oh, the poor dear.” Mabel shook her head, her gaze locked on the salt shaker. “I’m not sure that is one story I should be telling.” Mabel cast her eyes back to him as she chewed her lower lip.
“Who better to confide in than someone who only speaks to the Lord?” He gave Mabel a small smile. “I only want to help Yasmine if I can.”
The older woman sighed heavily.
“I guess you’re right. It’s one of those stories you never forget, much like this one.” Mabel picked up the newspaper and stared at the cover page.
“Yasmine had a twin, Raquel, and those two girls were completely inseparable. I know they say twins are close, but I didn’t quite believe it until those girls were born. I can’t tell you how many times those two would rush through that door after school and order strawberry milkshakes. They had to be loaded with whip cream and two cherries each.”
Mabel smiled as she recalled the memories to him.
“Oh, those two were a bit of a handful, I tell ya—I still say it was the ginger in them. Oh, did they have the best laugh, like sweet tinkling bells on a summer’s breeze, and their eyes alight with young wonder. They were so very different and yet so much the same—believe it or not, Yasmine was the outgoing one. The one that loved sports and fishing with her dad and much preferred the dirt. While Raquel was a little shy and she always wore the prettiest dresses and loved to bake with their mother.”
Mabel stopped to wipe a lone tear from her eye.
“The horror that Yasmine and Raquel faced—it happened the night of the Thanksgiving Harvest. Everyone was gathered downtown, and the kids were in attendance until after the fireworks. Yasmine’s parents took her and Raquel back to the house and then returned to the party just like every other set of parents in town. It was a different time then. We never thought…people just didn’t…” Mabel stopped and played with the edge of her crisp, white apron.
“It’s okay, Mabel. I won’t tell Yasmine you told me. I promise I just want to find a way to bring her some peace in whatever has her so distressed.”
The older woman rubbed her eyes, and for a brief moment, he thought she was going to clam up, but she continued.
“Someone snuck into their home and tried to take both of them from their beds. They were no more than eight at the time, but Yasmine had always been a great little soccer player. She was very fit. Apparently, she fought hard and managed to escape the man’s clutches. She ran back to the harvest festival, completely hysterical and screaming for help. We could barely get her to calm down enough to understand what was wrong. I’ll never forget the look of horror on her young face. Bruises marked her arms and face for weeks.”
Mabel paused again and looked him in the eye.
“By the time we all arrived at the house, young Raquel was gone. Yasmine kept screaming to find her, to help her sister, so the doctor ended up giving her something that night to calm down when she spent the night in the hospital. I stayed by her bed as her parents, and the rest of the town immediately started a search for Raquel.”
“There was no trace that the person had been inside the house?”
“Oh no, there was plenty of signs of a struggle, even droplets of blood from Yasmine breaking the man’s nose.”
Dean raised his eyebrows at that.
“There was just no sign of which way the man had gone, no witnesses, and the only access point disturbed was a single-window he opened and snuck in through.”
Mabel’s soft blue eyes filled with tears, pain written in their depths.
“Yasmine’s mother couldn’t handle the guilt, she locked herself in her room for weeks, and when they finally found Raquel—well…then the poor thing committed suicide. The weight of losing her daughter so brutally was just too much for her, I guess.”
Mabel’s voice faltered, and she took a moment to gather herself.
“The image of Yasmine holding her father’s hand as they stood quietly at the gravesite of her sister and then her mother is an image that will never leave me.” Mabel rubbed at her arms like she was suddenly cold. “Yasmine’s father was a good man and continued on the best he could. He kept the business going and looked after Yasmine, but he was a shell of the man he’d once been. I stepped in as much as I could as a mother figure. I knew she needed someone like that around, but at the end of the day, I was not her family.”
“I’m sure that whatever kindness you showed meant more to her than you will ever understand.”
“Maybe, I certainly hope so. Yasmine slowly healed over time, but the once vibrant and outgoing little girl had become very withdrawn from everyone. She went off to college, and she was in her final year when her father died. That was a couple of years before you arrived in town—he died of a sudden heart attack. They found him in the parlor. He’d been setting up for a funeral and was already wearing his best suit. He would’ve liked that.” A wistful smile played on her lips. “Yasmine came home from college to bury the last of her family and stayed to take over the family business.”
“And they never had any suspects?” Dean asked, his voice steely as he pictured Yasmine fighting for her life. Fighting off some fucker like the one he’d just buried. His blood boiled in his veins, but all he showed Mabel was a calm concern.
“Oh, Father…” Mabel wiped away another tear. “They never had enough proof. They suspected a few, that’s what I heard through the grapevine, but the sheriff couldn’t make a strong enough case. Sheriff Daniels was a deputy at the time, and I remember when they found Raquel, he’d been devastated. It was his first big case. Anyway, the rumor was the guy took off, was in jail for something else, or passed away. I hope they were right, the idea that he’s been coming in here like this one.” Mabel pointed to the paper.
“Makes me ill.” She shook her head from side to side slowly. “What was done to Raquel was unspeakable. The man was a monster.”
The rage trying to claw its way out for Yasmine was like a living creature in Dean’s chest. Dean stuffed the last of the pie in his mouth and gulped down the coffee before he slowly stood. He laid a hand on Mabel’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll make sure that Yasmine is going to be okay. Are you still having the monthly food drive this weekend?” he asked.
Mabel quickly wiped away the rest of her tears as she stood to face him.
“Yes, I certainly am, too many people in need, especially this time of year. I want to help as many as I can. I’ve been fortunate over the years and like to pay it forward.”
“Bless you, Mabel, you are truly a soul sent from the heavens.” He gave her shoulder a parting squeeze. “I will be here to help, have a good rest of your day.”
People waved and called out hellos to him as he left, and he must have answered, but his mind was already somewhere else. He had research to do and plans to make.
One thing was certain, he was going to find the man that took Raquel and hurt Yasmine, and if he was still alive, and Dean hoped he was, he’d make sure that man paid for his sin.