I woke up the following morning stretched out on the couch with a blanket thrown over me. It was as if realizing that I might have a solid lead, having deciphered the last entry in Penny’s diary, my mind had relaxed enough to allow me to finally fall asleep.
Brandy was gone. She left me a note saying that she hadn’t the heart to wake me so she had covered me, made a pot of coffee and left it on the stove. She signed it, “Love, Brandy,” which was something I would have to deal with at a later date.
I got dressed and went out to try some stores to see if they carried that particular TV guide. They all informed me that they put out the new magazine on Wednesdays, and that they didn’t have the old one around. The new one wasn’t applicable until Saturday, so the one I wanted was the old one, which meant I was out of luck. I told them all that if they should find one I would appreciate it if they would hold it for me. They all agreed, but gave me the same look.
When I’d hit five places and got the same answer from all five I realized that I was half a block from “Debby’s Pub.” I could kill two birds with one stone: pay her the money she had won on Eddie Mapes’ winner, and ask her if she had an issue of that particular guide.
The place was crowded when I walked in and I wondered why so many people would be drinking that early until I noticed that they weren’t drinking, they were eating.
Most of them were eating some sort of eggs, although I did notice some pancakes, and even a steak or two.
Debby was behind the bar, but she was facing away from me when I walked in.
I moved across to the bar and said, “I didn’t know you served food.”
She turned her head and when she saw me gave me a genuinely beautiful, pleased smile. She was even more lovely than I remembered.
“Henry, hi. Have you had breakfast?”
“No, but I — ”
She held up her hands. “No but, please. I want you to sample our cuisine. My cook will be very insulted if you refuse.”
“You have a cook?” I asked, surprised. This nondescript, no name establishment was turning out to be much more than just a bar.
“Sure, my cousin.” She took a few steps and called through a doorway, “Rosellen.”
A very pretty girl with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied back in a ponytail came out and said, “Debby, I’ve got four orders of eggs on.”
“I want you to meet a friend of mine. Henry Po, my cousin and cook, Rosellen Gannero.”
“So that’s Henry,” she observed. “He’s cute, Deb.”
“So are you,” I told her.
“And she’s a great cook,” Debby added. “What will you have, Henry?”
“No menu?”
“Just name it,” she told me.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put myself in both your capable hands. Whatever you two decide.”
“Deluxe, Rose,” Debby said to her cousin.
“Right. See you later, Henry,” she said before slipping back into her kitchen. “I hope so,” I answered.
“C’mon, “Debby told me, “sit over here.”
She led me to a table in a comer and sat with me. It was the only available table in the place.
“We keep this table open for important visitors,” she explained.
“I’m flattered. Do you watch television?” I asked her.
“What?” she asked, shaking her head as if to make sure she had heard right.
“Television, you know, the idiot box? Do you watch it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you buy a TV guide?”
“Well, yes, but — ”
“Which one?”
She looked at me with a puzzled expression and then told me which one. It was the one I wanted.
“Could I have it, for a while?” I asked.
She leaned forward and asked, “What do you do for a living, Henry?”
I handed her one of my current business cards: Henry Po, Special Investigator, New York State Racing Club.
“Is that like a private detective?” she asked, eyes widening.
Everybody had illusions about the “private eye,” I thought.
“I am a licensed private investigator, yes,” I admitted.
“And you need my copy of last week’s TV guide for something that you’re working on?”
“Right.”
Rosellen came over at that moment with my breakfast and set it down on the table in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to believe my eyes.
“Bon appetit,” she gave my cheek a fleeting stroke with her hand.
“You eat your breakfast,” Debby told me, “and I’ll go upstairs and get that guide.”
“Okay.”
I stared at the table. There were scrambled eggs, home fries, an honest to God breakfast steak, a few strips of bacon, toast, coffee and orange juice.
It was the best breakfast I’d ever had outside of Sally’s. The eggs were firm, the potatoes weren’t mushy, the bacon was crisp, the steak tender, the juice fresh and the coffee was definitely the best I’d ever had, bar none.
Rosellen came for the plate before Debby returned.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Fantastic. Rosellen, you are one hell of a cook,” I said sincerely.
She was obviously very pleased. She gathered up the plate and utensils and, before going back to the kitchen, said, “And this is the least of my talents.”
I’ll bet it is, I thought, as I watched her pert little ass make its way back to the kitchen.
Debby returned, carrying a copy of last week’s television guide.
“You’re lucky, “she told me, handing it to me. “I kept it because I’m a crossword nut and I haven’t done this one yet.”
“You don’t strike me as the crossword type. Aren’t these a little easy for someone who does them all the time?”
“To a crossword nut, any unfinished puzzle is unfinished business,” she explained, “no matter how simple it may seem.”
“I’ll get it back to you,” I promised. “Thanks, Deb.”
“More coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
I made a mistake right off. I had Friday on my mind because that was the night of her entry, therefore she couldn’t have seen the movie Friday night. As soon as I realized my error I turned back to Thursday night and found what I thought were the three programs Penny had checked off.
I narrowed it down pretty quick because only one of the programs continued on past midnight to end on Friday morning. If the program had influenced her that strongly, the chances were good that she had made her entry right after seeing it.
The listing told me that the movie had been shown on a local station and I had a friend that worked at this particular station. The rest of the listing was just the title, the fact that it was purported to be a drama, it had been made in 1949 and the plot description simply stated, “Silly love story.”
It didn’t tell me anything about why or how the movie had affected Penny, but it did tell me something else important, and that was that it told me my next move. I’d have to get in touch with my friend at the station and try to arrange a private screening.
Debby returned with my second cup of coffee, and one for herself.
“Does it help?” she asked, seating herself across from me.
“It helps a great deal,” I told her. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. How was breakfast?”
“I told Rosellen, she’s a hell of a cook. It was great. I’m going to have to change the name of this place.”
“Oh? To what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not quite sure yet just what kind of place it is. How about ‘Paradise’?”
She laughed. “That’s so sweet,” she said, touching the back of my hand with hers. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you advertise? You could probably make a fortune.”
“I’m making quite enough, thank you,” she explained, and for a moment a shadow crossed her face and the smile fled. “I make enough to pay Rosellen and to live the way I want to live.” She smiled again and added, “That’s all I need.”
“No ambitions to be wealthy?” I asked.
She shook her head and answered: “None. How about you?”
“I did, once. Thought I could make it gambling. You know, cards, horses. I went broke, worked my way back up and decided to be satisfied with what I could get. I didn’t have your potential.”
She didn’t remark when I steered the conversation back to her. I decided to take her off the hook.
“We’ll have to continue this conversation another time. Oh, here are your winnings,” I added, handing her three dollars and ninety cents.
“The horse won?” she exclaimed, then looked at the money in her hand and counted it. “That’s all?”
I took her other hand and said, “Remind me to explain short-priced favorites to you, sometime.”
“I’ll remember, “she promised. She looked at the money in her hand again and added, “No wonder you went broke.”
We got up and walked to the kitchen door together.
“Thanks a lot for a great breakfast, Rosellen.”
“Come back anytime,” she called back, then stuck her head out the door and said, “Debby’s off on Tuesdays.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I told her.
I turned to Debby and said, “Thanks again, Deb. How much do I owe you for breakfast?”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, you can’t — ”
“Next time we talk, remind me to explain short-priced breakfasts to you.” I smiled. “I’ll remember.”