The Gardens of Digby Green: Taking Steps
“Then I want to talk to that man,” Ray announced. Where can I find him?”
“He’s currently out on a two-man job across town with our main delivery driver. They left here ten minutes ago.” The manager leaned forward in his chair and stared Ray in the eye. “I don’t need you interrupting Green’s work. The guy already takes three or four times longer than he should between assignments. So far, I haven’t heard other customer complaints, but the only obvious positive thing he’s done for the company is put our advertising magnets on his green truck.”
Ray switched back to his first topic.
“Will you reduce the amount of my wife’s bill? If she walks into the store this minute, the miniature roses are not there for her to sell.”
The manager scowled. “She ordered them, Mr. Wilkinson, and I expect payment in full. Look.” He changed the position of his computer so Ray could see the screen.
Peering at the columns of numbers, Ray sighed.
“Green was supposed to have met with me yesterday,” the manager continued, “but he evaded me. I’ll be reprimanding him when I see him next.”
It was the best Ray was going to get. He nodded and left the office. Before opening Rose’s car door, he scanned the parking lot. In the fourth row of vehicles in front of a storage area, sat a green pickup. Ray left the Chrysler Imperial where it was and jogged toward the truck.
Automatically slipping his phone from his pocket, he snapped pictures.
When another car drove around the building, he put away the phone and went back to Rose’s car. He’d remember.
#
At the picnic table at the edge of the Bubba’s Fish Fry lot, Joe and Bubba debated.
“I never should’ve invited Keziah to watch that drone video. She was on my back all weekend about telling the cops.”
“You’re not the only one, Bubba. When I got home, my Tanisha insisted on seeing it, too. I don’t know what she thought I’d been videoing, maybe the neighbor three doors down who mows the lawn in a bikini. When the footage got to that cross, Tanisha started screeching fit to bust my eardrums. Thing is, I don’t want to go to the station alone, but if I don’t go at all, I’ll have a replay of the weekend.”
Bubba sighed. “I s’pose I could go with you, but it’s got to be before the dinner rush. You got time now?”
Joe checked his phone. “Yeah,” he said without enthusiasm. “Let’s go.”
The Gardens of Digby Green is a serialized story that posts on Fridays.
Next week, part thirty-six, Evidence.
Find a link to purchase Heartland Treasures anthology here.
Ruth
Heidi Kortman