Coffee Shop Short Story

12017 Words49 Pages
Past Pleasures
Pleasant Dreams
Lost Pleasures

Prologue

As I walked along the road I could hear a car coming. I moved to the right as far as I could. The driver came up behind me and nudged me just enough to make me fall to my knees. I looked down at my knees and saw them bloody with pieces of gravel embedded in them. I got up and turned my head wondering how the car did not see me. Suddenly the car backed up a few feet as if whoever was driving the car realized they had hit something. To my surprise the car started moving toward me again moving a little faster than before, then stopping for a split second.
“What is that idiot doing? Oh, my God!” I said through tears of pain and fear.
The driver revved the engine and
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There are lights on in some of the houses with folks probably getting ready for work or getting children up for school. Where I live is not too far from the center of town. It’s probably a little over a half mile. There is a little coffee shop on the square called “The Bean Stop”. I like to stop in to get a cup of their delicious flavored coffee of the day when I am out walking. The owners of “The Bean Stop” are Bo and Sally Bean. Don’t you think that the name, “The Bean Stop” is such an appropriate shop for them to own with that last name? They are a delightful couple.
The Bean Stop is only one of the many lovely shops surrounding the square in Martinsville, named for Samuel Martin who was the first mayor of our town. When he passed away the town wanted to build a wishing well in his memory. Mayor Martin’s campaign promise was to make this town a place that everyone would want to live in or visit, and that it would be known as one of the most friendly and prosperous towns. He said these were his wishes for the town. He added that if you work hard wishes do come true. In honor of Mayor Martin the town built a wishing well in his
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She took off to see her boyfriend about three days ago. John . . . Margo thinks the body found in the well might be her niece, Jenny Thatcher.”
“I’m so sorry, Margo, but there is a chance that it isn’t your niece.”
“When I called Lynn to tell her Jenny had taken off, she told me not to worry, that Jenny has a history of taking off and not telling her or her Stepfather. Lynn said sometimes she goes and hangs with her friends or her boyfriend, but she always comes home.”
“Maybe she did that, Margo.” John said.
“I pray that is all that has happened. My sister, Lynn, and I thought it would be good if she came here to stay with me for a while. I don’t want you thinking Jenny is a bad girl. She is just going through a hard age and my sister was trying to get her away from a relationship with a nineteen year old guy. If that young girl’s body that you found in the well is Jenny . . . how will I ever be able to tell Lynn that Jenny, her only child, has been murdered?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now until we see if it is Jenny. Do you think in a while you would be up to identifying the body?”
“I am so afraid it’s her.”
“I understand, Lynn. I’m sure Cassie would come
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