A LUNCH ENCOUNTER (Fiction)

From: Murder Incorporated - In a Keg

by Harold J. Treherne

rans-Canada travelers on the Greyhound buses are a genial lot and yet peculiar in a way. At any time of the day or night, usually after a long non-stop run a strange thing happens. They revert to their ancestors' behavior from a way way back, because, one minute they are all aboard and then in no time at all they just literally vanish, jack rabbit fashion. It's true one or two steer directly towards the lunch counter and thus benefit from the old adage, "First come, first served."

This short story has to do with such a lunch counter and a young fellow nicknamed "Biff." In polite society it was, of course, Beverley but in cosy bus circles it degenerated to "Biff." He was just a young fellow, a carefree guy it appeared, of a confiding nature and not at all suspicious. The only thing about him that belied his nature, I'm thinking, was his hair, short and reddish without a doubt. He sparked this tale and maybe his hair had something to do with it. Who knows?

We had stopped at this place in the mountains, a cold cold spot just before dawn and we would be here for half an hour at least. The travel routine ran true to form, as usual and, entering the lunchroom we sat down together, Biff ordering eggs on toast and coffee and I asked for cornflakes and coffee. Right away Biff jumped up and left saying he would be back in a minute, apparently in an awful hurry.

"O.K.," I said.

We were served right away but Biff didn't show up and I couldn't imagine why he was so long. His breakfast was sitting there waiting for him. I was half through my meal when I became aware of someone right behind me.

The place was almost full. With a backward glance I saw a real lean specimen of a guy, his tired eyes, gaunt figure and shabby clothes I wouldn't soon forget. He looked just the type that might frequent these places with the idea of a handout in mind.

I had to admit a good meal certainly wouldn't do him any harm and I could feel his eyes boring into those two juicy eggs, just waiting to be knifed and that tempting brown dado of toast surrounding it and the coffee exuding little lazy streamers, all unconcerned.

Giving me a gentle tap from the rear he says, "Anybody sittin' here, pal?"

I could read his thoughts but I looked at the empty stool intently, then at him, then at the stool again and, "Are you psychic?" I asked.

He just stood there and ignored my question entirely. Probably thinking to himself: "Why doesn't the guy spik English?"

Then the idea struck me like a block of masonry, right that sudden. Would it work?

"Sit down," I said, all fired with the idea and patting the vacant stool, "Sit down, make yourself at home an' eat 'er up."

Under such pressure, both internally and externally he was already more than half persuaded.

"Sure it's all right? I ain't got any dough."

Overruling his mild objections I reassured him everything would be O.K. and he was entirely welcome. Besides I could easily order another. Generosity, I felt, was a virtue, even at the expense of another and it was obvious he needed the meal much more than Biff did. There would be the little matter of squaring up, of course. On the other hand there might be a half buck's worth of real entertainment come out of this, more than the price of the meal. Needing no further persuading my newfound buddy accommodated his lanky legs under the counter, positioned himself fair and square on the stool, eagerly took up the necessary and, without any further ado, started right in. The meal was disposed of in record time, his face beaming and the coffee really put the lid on everything.

I finished my snack and followed his progress with more than passing interest. He began to thank me but I said to think nothing of it, all men should be brothers at heart. With a parting "Thanks again, Pal," he left, no doubt wondering how he had come by his good fortune. My time had come to leave, too, and taking my own bill with me I paid it at the desk.

There were only a couple of other fellows in the lunchroom by now.

Then I asked the girl casually, would she mind making a note on the back of my bill - "Eggs, toast and coffee, Biff's account, 45 cents." I said I had forgotten his as I was in a big hurry. I handed over the amount and it was duly marked "Paid."

Then she spiked the bill on the file stem and the double transaction was completed.

A quick glance around as I opened the door showed our friend Biff just entering through another one.

This was split-second strategy and I stayed out of sight just long enough to see him sit down. This set-up was static at the moment but might turn hot any minute. My bus seat at this moment held for me an overwhelming attraction and I lost no time getting there. Time was of the essence. The interior of the bus was warm and real homelike and I gazed fondly at my little niche. What a cosy haven of retreat! Time solves every conundrum and the endings all differ.

Then I saw Biff through the window before he reached the bus and he sure was in a tearing hurry and how. He bounced up the steps, probably cleared them all and took one look at me, just ready to blow up. Forestalling him I asked if anything was wrong, appearing as casual as I could. This I thought would be sufficient cranking to start the motor and it was. He was combusting perfectly.

"Of all the - do you know what just happened in there, by heck?" - pointing.

"No, I don't, and where d'ya mean?" - just by way of adding a little more fuel.

"In that cockeyed lunchroom of course, where else? Of all the dirty low down mean tricks, this beats the book."

I didn't need to prompt him any more. The spark was well advanced and all I had to do was listen.

The following is Biff's own version of events, my remarks (to myself) are in brackets. Alternately he sat on the arm of the opposite seat or stood up to emphasize a point, or got a little excited which was often. The other fellows in the bus were all ears. The driver wasn't aboard.

"I got back to the lunchroom as soon as I could (This was a close one.) although I did chin to a fellow for a few minutes. Where the dickens were you? You sure must a wolfed it. (I didn't let on and he didn't press me.) At the counter there was a plate and a cup, crummy and all messed up; looked to me like the guy had just left. There was a bill close by and it said eggs on toast and coffee' and I guess it was mine all right. Why didn't you wait till I got there, what was the rush? (Again I didn't let on and he let it pass.) Why didn't that other guy take his bill with him? (I'm sworn to secrecy.) This I'll never know and I see where I made my big mistake. I should have just lit out of there and vamoosed (so glad you didn't and they could have sent the Mounties after the other fella. I thought I was going to be clapped in jail and I just feel now like I'm out on parole. (I was thinking the same thing.) I sat there a minute and then called a girl over and asked her what this was all about, I hadn't had anything to eat yet. She picked up the bill, looked at me and - 'eggs on toast and coffee,' she read.

"'Is this what you ordered?'"

"'Yes,' I said, 'it is' and here's where I should have made a bee-line for the door but I said, "That's what I generally eat for breakfast'."

"She looked at the dirty dishes and the unpaid bill and gave me a frosty look."

"'Then you must have had it and that will be 45 cents and please pay on your way out, right over by the door there?'"

"She started to walk away all stuck up and I made one grab for her hair and hollered, 'Come back.' No, you ass, I didn't drag her back. (I see where the red hair comes in and he was standing up now.) This is where I queered the pitch and lost my temper and she had her snub nose pointed Heavenward and right then I could have easy flattened it more. (Your manners, Biff, are unbecoming a lady.) She was certain I was pulling a fast one. 'Cross my heart and shiver my timbers, isn't my word good enough or would you like a stomach pump test?' (Heaven forbid. - He executed a realistic retch.) She gave me a look she never gave her husband - if she has one — which I doubt. (Go on, then what?)

"The girl drew herself up to her full height, all five feet of her and said, in a strictly unfeminine voice, commanded me in fact to, 'Stay right where you are,' she didn't even say 'Please.' 'The Prop can talk with you,' and out she bounced. (I'm afraid this is it, brother.)"

"The Prop strode in, of ample girth, took a stare at me which I amply returned; the situation was explained to him, by the girl, of course. I couldn't have sledge-hammered a word in. He started out in a fatherly manner but he wasn't going to 'son' me."

"'Look now, son' - there he goes — 'a joke's a joke' - but this ain't no joke, 'just a minute, please, and now, if you didn't eat this meal - who did?'"

"That was a reasonable question and a poser but I wasn't falling for it, no, sir."

"'It wasn't me but some other dirty double-crosser - I don't mean that,' and didn't that girl put on a smug grin."

"'Maybe you can explain just a little clearer' — sassy, and pressing his advantage. (Watch out or he'll get you yet.)

"'Come off it, you know exactly what I mean and I'm not taking any third degree stuff from you or anybody else and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it?'" He didn't get huffy at all, in fact he was reasonable and he turned round and asked the girls if they had seen any other guy at this same stool. At last one of them thought she had seen another man but didn't remember him ordering anything.

"'Was this the culprit'? aiming at me with his chubby first finger. Right away I threatened to behead the blighter. I'll sue him for defamation of character."

"'Sorry - was this the man?'"

" 'No, the girl replied, thinking hard, 'he was a real cheap looking skate?'"

"'Just like this fellow here?' from the Prop. 'One more crack out a'you and —' The girl said he wasn't sitting there very long and, no, she didn't see him pick up his bill. Isn't this a screwy outfit? (I agree.)"

"'You want me to believe', the Prop started in again, 'you let another man eat your lunch? A likely story if I ever heard one.'"

"'You can go to the deuce as fast as you like', I shot back, 'I didn't eat it and I'm not paying for it.' The Prop never lost his temper and I was spoiling for a fight. Talk about frustration! If he'd thrown a whole raft of crockery at me I would have really enjoyed it. (Happiness comes in small doses, Biff.) Then he summed up."

"'Nobody saw this elusive figure except one girl (I beg to differ.) and now he has just faded from these parts (You are so right.) This girl could have had hallucinations, No? Anyway she couldn't describe him in detail and the fact the grub has gone and the bill hasn't been paid looks suspicious to me. The crux of this case lies in one unassailable fact - the other fellow got away - if there was such a one - and you didn't. A bird in the hand -'

"After I'd told him he was talking through his hat he started on another tack. But why didn't he get mad? Did I have to biff him one below the belt to really rouse him? I tell you it was like butting into a cloud of feathers - no reaction. He was just wearing me down. (You'll be a better man after this.)"

"'The amount isn't much," he says, 'but we just can't have this kind of thing going on round here so I think it is only fair that you should pay the 45 cents?'"

"'Would you prefer large or small bills? Anyway I'm not paying it. I have my rights and I'm going to stand on 'em.' (I must see this.) Then he started to laugh, 'What's so funny, I'd like to know?"

"'O.K. then,' said the Prop, rubbing the grin off his face. "It's your funeral. I shall have to book you on a charge of false pretenses. This court is now recessed. All stand. There will be a ten minute intermission!'"

"I had to think fast. I have a pal on the bus: if I could see him for a minute or two I might be able to straighten this mess up.' He wasn't going to let me leave but he knew I couldn't get far and they would hold the bus up if necessary."

"So here I am and now what should I do? Pay up?"

Here I thought it was about time for me to take up my proper role. The audience on the bus had been really appreciative but Biff needed some help if he was to stay out of jail.

"We have a few minutes, Biff, let's see what's cooking."

The 'what's cooking' part seemed to irritate him.

"You old cuss, you do like to dig, don't you. Mention cooking to me again and I'll crown you."

He was real touchy but I took no notice and we backtracked post-haste to the lunchroom. He was feeling kinda blue but I reminded him that all things work together for good but I am afraid he wasn't listening. As for me, I felt good. Was I not the key witness? We marched in, the defendant having the privilege of entering first. The scene was the same, the Prop and the girls standing around and a couple of customers doing the same. With my hand on Biff's shoulder I paused a half minute for effect.

"Now," I said, directing my remarks to the Prop in particular, "what's all the fuss about?"

There was one thing Biff had neglected to do. Now he disclosed my identity and normal procedure could be followed, our credentials were in order.

"If you think you can save the prisoner at the bar, now is the time to do it."

I burst out laughing at the Prop's apt expression. I was going to play this situation up till it got too hot.

"Friends," I began, "I have known Biff [patting him on the shoulder] all of 24 hours and during all that time I have found him absolutely trustworthy, honest and above board and I'm sure -"

"Shut, up you darned old fool," Biff butts in, "I've known you for all of 24 hours too and that's just 24 hours too long and you're acting so high and mighty I'll bet you ate my lunch as well as your own. That's sure a mean low down trick to pull on a buddy."

"Biff, my boy, calm yourself and don't be so all het up. How could you think such a thing of me? Maybe you did eat it yourself, after all."

"Go and soak your head or lose it or something, it's no use to yer," he shot back.

Then, stroking the back of my neck, I cogitated for a few seconds: That idea of Biff's was brilliant. Why didn't I think of it? It would have been so much simpler. With that extra helping under my belt I would, even now have been feeling better still. On the other hand (there's always the other hand) I wouldn't have experienced that feeling of well being which comes from helping another.

"You would like to know about that meal, wouldn't you, Biff?"

"Aw, cut it out, stupid, and get down to brass tacks. After this ballyhoo is over I hope you are shipped out to Malaya to pick oakum and they can turn the heat on yer. Of course I don't know whether they pick oakum in Malaya and where the deuce is the place anyway and I don't give a damn. Another thing, the Prop's not going to stand much more and the bus is about due to leave so make it snappy."

Biff relieved his blood pressure all in one breath and admitted afterwards he really felt good. His encounters with the Prop were always a stalemate and he was always hard put to keep his ego afloat.

I could see the point, so, "O.K., Biff," and I nodded to the others. I headed for the door: the desk was near the door and I was about to play my trump card. But somehow I didn't exactly want to do the obvious and what anyone thought afterwards didn't matter to me one way or the other. So, right where I was I fished out a quarter and two dimes and handed them to the Prop saying: "This will clear Biff and I take all responsibility and I hope nobody has any hard feelings. It was just a joke but maybe it did go a little too far."

I would have more squaring up to do yet.

The Prop accepted the change with not too much grace (although glad to get it) but I heard him say half to himself, as he left: "There sure are some loose nutheads running around." Which one of us did he mean?

"Please put up a few sandwiches," I asked one of the girls, "and I'll take a Coke, Biff will pay — no, I'll pay you, is 35 cents enough?"

We boarded the bus with one minute to go and were away at last. Biff's hair was burning up.

I handed him the sandwiches, (he didn't know I had them) but said he, "If I wasn't so darned peckish I'd throw these at you, one at a time."

I was about to hand him the Coke as a peace offering but just at the last moment I thought better of it. I left it under the seat till a more propitious time arrived. Handing him a lethal weapon like a bottle (fully loaded) would be almost certain to raise ructions right now. In about ten minutes, maybe.

He relented a little and grunted his thanks. He was feeling a little relieved to be out of the clink. A little oil of diplomacy judiciously applied would renew his faith in his fellow man.

"All thanks gratefully received, dear old Biff," I said, but he didn't like my tone of voice or something for he tried his best to lever me off the seat and right then the bus driver for the third time ordered him to pipe down.

"You know what happens after the third time, I suppose. The driver stops the bus and with a compelling finger and matching look points to the great outdoors and you have the privilege of walking so don't get so rambunctious again.

"O yeah, then just tell me what's what or we'll be walking together."

"Into the Dawn and how romantic," I added.

For his peace of mind and for all the rest of us I explained it was all a practical joke, and how the down an' outer had given me the idea of pulling a fast one on him but it all hinged on his not showing up. That few minutes chinning saved the day.

"I sure was a dumb cluck," he managed to say, "but go on, you haven't got me out of the woods yet. I bet the Prop still thinks I'm a wrong un."

I told him he was absolutely clear and his name was still Biff - and genuine.

'The other fellow's bill and my own were paid for at the same time and, to make everything square and above board I asked the girl to write on the back of my bill 'Biff's order, eggs, toast and coffee, paid.' I left the original bill on the counter which you saw. On top of that I paid again as a sort of an anti-climax. It was well worth it."

Imagine that night when the Prop himself checks the receipts and comes to this one written on both sides. I can see him holding it up to the light and wondering:

"What's this?" and he reads on - "Biff's order" - and then he remembers the name. Looking over the tops of his specs he remarks to the girl, "What's all this about? That other guy paid for this red haired fellow." And she butts in: "Yes, I know and he paid for himself at the same time - turn the bill over."

"Then he paid twice - " in a tone of unbelief and the girl sings out, "Shure he did." That's where I leave the Prop and I imagine he said and thought plenty.

I retrieved the Coke and asked Biff: "Everything O.K. now?"

He took the bottle, opened it and handed it over. "Sure, everything's O.K. - now." It was broad daylight.

"Up there, see - the sun on the tops of those mountains? Isn't that something!"