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Joanne Harmon had enjoyed cooking since she was eight years old. She had always wanted to be a chef and open her own restaurant. Looking around, she couldn’t believe that dream was becoming a reality. She was taking a huge chance on naming the restaurant "Harmony", but it seemed to fit. She couldn’t wait to open the doors and see how everyone loved her food. This would either make or break her.
She wanted this restaurant to be a place where friends came to meet over good food and wine. Joanne was certain she had created the perfect ambiance for it.
Joanne walked into the kitchen to make sure everything was arranged for the sous chefs. She had left note cards explaining the entire menu items in detail, in case someone forgot how a menu item was made. It may take them a while to catch on to the recipes. Her cooking was considered nouveau American. She had a flare with food, per her culinary instructor. Hopefully the customers thought so too.
Joanne couldn’t believe how well opening night went. The restaurant was a huge success. All throughout dinner service she heard oh's, ah's, and mm's. People seemed to enjoy the food.
Joanne wanted to do a final walk through to make sure everything was picked up and turned off before going home for the night. A noise out back caught her attention. A tinge of fear ran through her body, no one should be out back at this hour. Thankfully, she had listened to the insurance salesman and installed video cameras. Joanne looked at the feed to see who was out there. It had to be a cat. The reason she came back to Lake Hamilton was the lack of crime. Installing the video camera system had seemed silly, but it did drop her premiums.
Joanne noticed an old truck parked out back. A guy seemed to be loading something quite large into the bed of his truck. As if he felt Joanne looking at him, he suddenly looked around.
Joanne ducked away from the camera, not thinking. You silly woman he can’t see you in here. She could hear her own rapid heart rate caused by the sudden rush of fear. Swallowing back her fear, she called the sheriff's office.
"This is Joanne Harmon. I'm over at Harmony and wanted to let you know that something strange is going on around back. A guy, no wait, two guys are loading something large into the back of a truck. Oh my God, it's a person, maybe a body."
"Ms. Harmon, are you somewhere safe? Can they see or hear you?"
"I'm inside my restaurant watching them, they have no idea."
"I'm sending help right now. Please, don’t go outside. The police car will go in silent, as not to scare them away."
"Well, they better hurry, because it looks like they are pulling out right now."
***
THE TRAVELER DIDN’T like the way the old geezer kept staring at him. “Son, are you from around here?”
Uh-oh. The Traveler knew it might cause a problem coming into town so much. “No sir, just passing through.”
“You sure do look familiar.”
The Traveler and David had just managed to load up Mr. Jerry Kirshman and everything they needed from the hardware store, when the police cruiser passed them. They had just pulled out of the alleyway when he noticed the cruiser turning into the alley between the restaurant and hardware store.
"What the hell?" The Traveler muttered to himself. He knew no one was around when they grabbed the old coot. The damn old man had finally recognized him. They fixed that problem, though. The old goat would probably have a heart attack before they even got him to the hideout. At least they went unnoticed by the cop.
Several nights later, David and The Traveler decided to treat themselves to a beer in a local bar a few towns over. A reward was well deserved for all they had accomplished so far.
The Traveler froze; on the TV he saw a news crew in front of the hardware store in Lake Hamilton. "Hey bartender, can you turn it up a minute.”
The news reporter was pointing towards the alley, "Law enforcement agencies here in Lake Hamilton are asking anyone with information regarding the disappearance of Jerry Kirshman, to please contact them. A witness noticed a late model Dodge truck, gray in color, leaving the alleyway Tuesday night. The owner of the vehicle is not a suspect, but may have seen something that can help authorities locate Mr. Kirshman.
“Mr. Kirshman is 79 years old and has owned Kirshman Hardware since 1963. The locals here can’t think of anyone who would want to cause him harm.”
It was all The Traveler could do to keep from spewing his beer all over the bar. Who the hell had been in the alley to see them? The bartender glanced over at him, “You know the old man?"
"Nope. That reporter looked familiar. She's hot."