Breakfast gossip

Sleep took hold the second your head hit the pillow, an all-consuming wave that buried all your anxieties and doubts for several hours of blissful oblivion. That peace was eventually broken by the sound of a car door opening and closing, followed by the front door ringing.

You lifted your head, glanced out the window with bleary eyes. It was morning, but your alarm showed seven thirty. Who would be showing up at your house so damned early? You rubbed some sleep from your eyes and stumbled out of your bedroom to investigate. Voices filled the house, faintly familiar but indistinct. As you made your way downstairs things grew clearer.

Your mom was in the kitchen, and there was a rattling of coffee mugs as she spoke with someone. “Are you sure you don’t want me make you a bite to eat? I get you some toast for the drive.”

“No thanks, Hon,” an older woman’s voice. Where had you heard it before? “I just need my caffeine and I’ll be set. Besides, we better hit the road sooner than later.”

“Crazy that they want us out at the steel mill so early.”

“Girl, you should have seen it. Mayor Chapman and a bunch of uppity friends had a whole damned slide show presentation with all the different properties they were looking at. It was all perfectly neat, all very efficient. These people value time.”

Your mom hummed while she started to work the coffee machine. “Did you know any of them?”

“Well, the Mayor, obviously,” the other woman said, “but there was that guy Johnson, with the bad comb over, and oh…god, what’s his name? That tall skinny guy with the pony tail?”

“Ohhh,” your Mom pondered it, the sounds of her pouring coffee filled the air. “Uh, Duffy? I think? Someone Duffy. I think he was there when they unveiled that war memorial last year. Weird looking guy.”

“Gave me the creeps,” the other woman agreed. “The way he leered at me, Jesus. I wanted to grab my mace.”

“Mayor Chapman always rubbed me the wrong way too,” your Mom sighed. “But… my son has started dating his daughter, so I suppose I ought to get used to him.”

There was a shocked gasp. “Little Mikey’s got a girlfriend? I’ll be damned.”

It was then that you recognised the voice. You had only met her once or twice, but Mrs Jackson had worked with your mom for years, and was always a bit of a gossip. Especially when it was about someone she hated.

“Well, come on girl, we’ve got to get a move on.” The woman said, sipping at her coffee. “This steel mill thing is big news!”

You retreated to your bedroom as the women left the house, your mind spinning. It was a loose thread, but you didn’t have any other leads. The steel mill seemed like the most likely place to check out. You grabbed your phone and texted the others. You would need to be ready to strike.