The Summit Diner

The grand old cafe stood in the middle of Andalusia, Alabama. It shared this prime middle spot with the Methodist church beside it and the town hall and courthouse across from it. These were the 4 landmarks of the small town in Covington County that everyone should be aware of.

As this was one of the few restaurants within 50 miles, everyone found their way there at one point in the day or another. Dixie was mighty happy to have the corner on the business and anyone who got in her way, should have known about the shot gun near the cash drawer.

Dixie Johnson was from an old Alabama family. An old Southern family from old money. And that old money was the reason she left it all to take over the diner in this town. It's been 30 years since she started and while most people are accepting of her, there's still the rare few to call her an outsider.

And one night, someone does cross a path but it's luckily not hers.

Whoever it was that killed the poor fellow from Coffee County, sure had a sense of humor about them.

Dixie Johnson leaned over the counter of the diner, holding a pecan pie in her right hand and a receipt in her left. The price of this pie was clearly marked on the bottom in shouting red ink but still the customer from Samson was insisting the waitress on the phone had given him another number.

She looked down under the counter at the shotgun but looked back up when Deputy Alvant strolled in with the police dog and his wallet open.

"How can I help you today, Deputy?"
"Well Dixie, I need a lot of donuts and a lot of coffee. All to go."
"Big case, Deputy? A stole cat? Cattle wranglers? Mrs. Tibbins hurt another homing pigeon?"

The deputy pulled a few bills out of his wallet and gave them to the young waitress at Dixie's side.

"Make fun of our department all you like, Dixie, but we do contribute a fair bit to your business. And this time it's a murder."
"So you don't want jelly donuts then?"
"Yeah, just keep on laughing. But the sheriff and I are gonna solve this one before the feds show up."

The waitress headed out with the deputy to 'help' with the boxes of supplies. Dixie turned back to sort out the pecan pie issue but then there was another ring of the store bell.

Amy swung her legs back and forth on either side of the bar stool, peacefully munching on her pecan pie when the sheriff came in. All was well and good until he said the words murder. She almost choked on her bite of pie, and gave a swift pound to her chest to get it to go down. She cleared her throat.

"M-murder?" She asked, looking at the deputy with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh! Who died?!"

The startled deputy swung around and nearly dropped the boxes filled with pastries and pure caffeine.
“Well I’m afraid that’s confidential ma’am”
“Who are you calling ma’am?”
“Uh sorry ma - miss.”

Dixie pushed the pecan pie issue off for another moment.
“It didn’t seem too confidential a minute ago, deputy.”
“Well it should have been. None of us should ever be talking about cases in here.”

The deputy eyed one of the squad cars outside and then hurried off.

“State troopers. Damn troopers. That’s what’s got this town all riled up.”

Amy stared as the deputy hurried off, suddenly feeling a lot less safe with the prospect of a murderer on the loose somewhere in their little town. She nervously poked at her pie with her fork.

"He didn't even answer my question," she mumbled to herself. "Why'd he have to go say there was murder and then not even tell us who died?" she asked, mostly to Dixie. "What a way to just make me all worried."

"Amy, did you not just hear me swear at the state troopers?"

The woman looked down at her pie and looked back up with fear still in her eyes.
"Maybe? I'm more focused on the word 'murder' at the moment."

Dixie adjusted her hair and apron.
"If the state troopers are here, it means the murder victim was not from our county. And they probably wouldn't come even then unless it was somebody high enough of a profile. So all your worrying is probably well placed."

Mary Harper came up to the counter to pay and looked to Amy saying, "I've been a cop's wife for forty years. Don't mind what Dixie says, there's probably nothing to worry about."

As Mary walked away, Dixie let out a quiet stream of swears and the equally old lady answered with: "Don't think I didn't hear that."

Amy's eyes followed Mrs.Harper warily as she took another bite of pie. For some reason the thought of murder made the pie a little less appetizing than before.

"She's probably just saying that..." she mumbled.

Dixie looked out past the door at Mrs. Harper, trying to saunter away but instead tripping on a loose bit of concrete. Sometimes she wished the old bat wouldn't catch herself and a lot of problems would be solved for a lot of people.
She thought about murder for a second and then eyed the patron she was talking to previously.

"Who are you anyways?"

Amy looked at Dixie with mild surprise and pointed to herself with a face that said: "Who, me?"

"Oh!" she laughed. "I'm uh, I'm Amy. Amy Brooks."

Dixie slid her glasses back onto their chain and stared at the 'Amy' person for a moment. Eye contact continued until the woman sunk back down to her pecan pie.

Dixie's mind went back to the murder and being the Southern lady she was, it decided the best decision was to follow the police to the crime scene.

Amy finished off her pie and stared down at her plate for a moment, mind returning to the murder.

"How long do you think it'll be 'fore stuff pops up on the news about it?" she asked no one in particular.

Dixie looked back at the person who was new and interested in murderous gossip, far more than the normal citizen already was.

“I don’t know but I do know I’m going to go steal a police motorcycle. Clarice, please take over this customer.”

Amy stared at Dixie with confusion. Steal a motorcycle? She looks wildly over at Clarice, expecting some kind of answer. "Is that normal? For her?"

Clarice looked up at Dixie walking out the door, to the customer that had just been handed to her and walked back to the kitchen empty handed.

-

Outside, Dixie was walking down to the police station staff lot and couldn’t find a single free motorcycle. Then she set her eyes on something in the impound zone.

After sitting in the county jail for three months, Dixie emerged from the front door in a nice suit and climbed into the car waiting for her outside. The Lincoln was an odd penny color.

"You took long enough, Madge."

The person in the car said nothing to her, just handed her a stogie and brought a black case out of the back of the car.

"Ah diamonds. Let's get back to the diner."