Wishbone Well

It was a dreary and wet December morning. The biting wind ripped at my jacket as I walked through puddles left behind by the previous night’s rain.

The sorrow filled cries of the townpeople could be heard through closed doors. Familys drowning in their losses.

I knew my work would be cut out for me. But the clues were here somewhere, of that I was certain.

Set in my resolve to bring closure to these people, I head in the direction of the only diner open at this godforsaken hour.

Warm light filters across the melting snow that sloshed around my feet as I pulled the door open.

The sharp ringing of a bell sounded my entrance.

The few people seated on their stools, held their heads down in grief.

“How may I help you?” came the tired question from a worn down looking waitress.

As she took my order, I scan the room for anyone who looked willing to strike up a conversation.

I needed clues, and this was as good as any a place to start.

“So, what brings a woman like you to our quaint establishment,” the waitress begins.

“Don’t get me wrong, I mean no offense.” “We just rarely get city folk out here.” She continued.

“None taken, I’m here on business.” Is my curt reply.

“And what business is that, may I ask?”

“Actually, I’m glad that you have asked, My name is detective Lori Thomas, and I’m here to find clues for all the women that have been disappearing in the this town.

As I spoke, I couldn’t help but notice her unshed tears.

“May I ask what’s weighing so heavily on your mind?” I inquire with concern.

“My sister went missing three months ago, and as I am the only living relative she has, I was given the duty of taking care of her daughter. It has been hard to gather enough money to take care of her and I.” She opens up to me.

Out of respect for her loss, I said, “I’m sorry for this tragic occurrence in your life.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“It wasn’t your fault. Yet you would have my utmost respect if you could discover what or who was responsible for all the disappearances.” she lay her hand on top of mine as she spoke.

“I will try my best.” I say, holding her gaze with a determined one of my own.

Thank you, she replied as she turned her attention to the other patrons.

One of which looked up from his cup of coffee, and fixed me with a pointed stare.

Taking this as my que that he wanted to talk, I grab my own cup that had been placed in front of me, and saunter in his direction.

As I reached his table he gestures for me to take a seat.

“Detective Lori Thomas is it.” He asked.

" Yes that would be correct .” “May I ask what do you need of me ? I reply.

“Well , I sell homes, and I recently sold a home to a young man who I believe may be connected to the disappearances that have occurred since he moved in.”

“Thank you, sir, but I will need you to provide me a description of the individual and his name; otherwise, you’re instructing me to look for a needle in a haystack by saying you think this person might be responsible.”

“I completely understand, but I would feel more comfortable if we talked about this specific subject somewhere more private.”

" That is fine.” I say.