Only Prompts - 23. Beans and Boards

Arthur Goderich Rowbottom, better known as Art-the-Fartbottom to his so-called friends, stood outside his shop. The keys were in his hands. However, before unlocking for the start of his business day, he turned and watched the sun change the sky pink and gold.

“Gorgeous!” the young man mused.

His attention was pulled from nature’s beauty by the squawking of a seagull. It landed on one of the city’s silver garbage cans. Brazenly, the creature dropped into the open container.

“Rats-with-wings!” Arthur thought. “But they are part of the seafront.”

More squawking erupted as the bird jumped back onto the side of garbage can; it had tossed out a piece of crumpled newspaper and dove back in for a partially consumed bagel. The latter it dropped to the sidewalk and followed swiftly after.

“Bloody things … shoo!” Arthur waved his arms at the creature. It flew off with its prize.

Arthur picked up the newspaper. “Hmmm, what’s this say?” He opened it the best he could and read the headline.

Mass Murderer Escaped as Police Bungle Transport

“Wow ….” Arthur continued to read as he walked back to the shop door. “Right, I better get a move on. Store won’t open itself.”

Once inside he folded the paper and pushed it under the counter.

Behind him were counter-to-ceiling jars filled with candy of all description. Beside this were several rows of coffee beans and six empty coffee makers. He looked at the numerous varieties and blends available and selected six flavours for that day.

To the left of the coffee stood a chiller which held all types of cold drinks, including juices and soda varieties from all over the world. On the bottom shelf was fresh milk and cream.

On the wall opposite from the counter were over 300 board games. They were numbered and in alphabetical order.

As Arthur started the coffee, there was a knock at the back door. The shop owner skipped around the counter and went through to the back kitchen. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Good morning, Chuck.”

“Morning, Mr. Rowbottom. Here’s your selection. Does it look okay? I picked several kinds of treats for you today.”

Arthur looked at the pastries in the large plastic stackable tray. “Oh, my, yes. Chuck, these look terrific. I see you remembered the cream horns and Napoleons. Those sell so quickly.”

Chuck grinned. “Maybe you need to order a few more. By the way, this one, is for you.” The delivery man pointed to a white sandwich bag. “On the house. I remember you saying you like cinnamon rolls.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. He smiled and said, “Wow, Chuck, that’s so nice. Listen, come on in. I’ve got coffee brewing … we can split the cinnamon roll.”

“Oh, I’d love to Mr. R. However, duty calls. So much pastry and so little time! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Nodding, Arthur felt a little disappointment. “Okay. Another time maybe. Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

Chuck grinned and waved. “Yep. Good deal. Have a good one!”

With a great sigh, Arthur pushed the door closed with his hip. He carried the tray of pastry to the stainless-steel workbench and put it down. Moving to the dish washer, he pulled a couple of clean trays from it and put them down.

Donning plastic gloves, he carefully moved the pastry to trays that could slide into the small refrigerated display out front. Each pastry sat on a small square of paper; so they wouldn’t stick to the plain metal tray.

“They may be nerds, my customers, but they are nerds with good taste and high expectations,” he thought.

Once both trays were full, he carried each out to the front carefully. “Dropping them that one time was quite enough.”

The pot of regular brew was nearly done. After returning with the second tray of goodies, he poured himself a cup and took it into the kitchen. He sat at the little desk he had there. Carefully, he pulled the fresh, still-warm pastry from bag. He lifted it and took a bite.

“Oh, my, that is so good.” He chewed and sipped the coffee. “Perfect … only more perfect if Chuck had stayed to share it.”

After his quick breakfast break, Arthur unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out the cash register’s cash insert. He counted out the float and separated the denominations into the correct slots.

Leaving the insert for the time being, he returned to the front. He wiped down the tables and the counters, even though he’d done so the night before.

“Time to open the blinds and let some of the sun in.” He was moving toward the blinds when he heard a noise from the kitchen. It stopped him. Slowly, he turned sensing … something. He hoped it was Chuck.

“Don’t move, please.” The voice was male, and soft — it didn’t belong to the kind deliveryman.

Arthur stopped. “O ... okay. There’s not much here. I mean … we’re not open yet.”

“Just step away from the door and come back here.”

“Sure.” Arthur backed up slowly. He groped behind him to avoid the table he knew was there. His heart pounded.

“Turn around and get into the back.”

“Sure.” Arthur turned and moved briskly to the rear of the shop. He didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the man’s face. He stood next to the work bench.

“Sit at your desk.”

“Yep. Okay.” Arthur quickly did as he was told. “Please … look, there’s only the float. Please don’t kill me.”

The man chuckled. “I’ve no plans to kill anyone today. You left your back door open. I locked it for you. Don’t do anything dumb. Do as you’re told and I’ll leave in a couple of hours.”

“Okay. But I always open on time … if I don’t then my customers—”

“Shut up!”

Arthur jumped at the raised voice. “Sorry … I’m sorry.”

The man sucked in a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “You have food here?”

Swallowing was difficult; his mouth was so dry. Arthur choked out, “Yes … pastries. Coffee, soda.”

“I’ll take a couple of your pastries and some black coffee.”

“They are all out front.”

“Fine … just move slowly. Get the tray and the pot of coffee. Clear?”

“Yes. I’m getting up now.”

Again, there was a chuckle. “I don’t need a play-by-play. I can see. No sudden movements and only as far as you need to go. Clear?”

“Yes.” Arthur did as he was told, he moved slowly, returned bringing the tray and coffee, and depositing them on the workbench. He didn’t look up. He saw only a pair of black military-type boots and blue jeans.

“Get me a cup.”

“Right.” Arthur pulled one from the dishwasher. “Here. I’ll pour.”

“Good. Thanks. Sit.”

Arthur did as he was told. He could hear the steel stool being moved and what he guessed was the man sitting on it. There were small noises, like the paper being removed from the pastry, and then chewing, drinking, and swallowing.

“That was nice. You buy these locally?”

The oddness of the question wasn’t unnoticed by Arthur. “Yes, I do.”

“You can tell. Made with some skill, I’d say.”

“Yes.”

Paper was pulled off a second pastry. “This is a coffee shop. Your store?”

Arthur nodded as he stared at the wall in front of him. “Yes. Beans and Boards.”

“Cute. Hard to believe you make enough money doing this.”

“It’s usually tight, but I get by. I’m not rich.”

The coffee pot scraped across the work top. “No, I’m sure you’re not. Didn’t see a Porsche out back.”

“I don’t have a car.”

There was laughter. “Just my luck. Oh, well.”

From the front of the store there were muffled voices. Someone knocked on the glass door. “Artie? You gonna open up, man?”

Arthur looked up.

“Don’t move. They’ll go away,” the man said.

“Right, okay.”

“Artie? You don’t look like an Artie.”

“My name is Arthur.”

“Well, Arthur suits you.”

More talking filtered through from the shop door. “He’s never late.”

“Well, he is today. Come on. We’ll come back in an hour.”

“Okay. Jeez, Jase, why are you carrying that purple umbrella?”

“Rain they said for later, idiot. Come on let’s get a Starbucks and then we’ll come back.”

“K.”

“So,” the man said. “We have about an hour together.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.”

“You married, Arthur?”

“No … I don’t know your name.”

His captor laughed. “Are you sure you want to?”

Arthur swallowed. “If I do, will you kill me?”

“It’s Jack. I told you I’ve no plans to kill today.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment. “Today? Does that mean you have killed?”

Jack chuckled. “Do you always walk on the knife’s edge?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, do you always ask so many questions of strangers that have taken you hostage?”

“Is that what I am? Your hostage?” Arthur heard Jack laugh. “Are you the guy from the papers?”

“So many questions, Artie. If I am the guy from the paper … what will you do?”

“It said he was an escaped mass murderer. You don’t sound like one.”

Jack laughed again. “What does one sound like? Have you known many?”

“Fine, okay. Just more questions.” Arthur looked at his fingers and his watch. The hour was nearly up. His regulars would be back and wondering where he was. Behind him, he heard Jack moving. Drawers opened. Then the metal storage cupboard.

“Ah … this will do.” The metal doors closed. “Arthur, today is your lucky day.”

“How’s that?”

Arthur jumped when he felt Jack’s hands on his shoulders. “Shit!”

“Easy, Artie.”

“What … what are you going to do with me?”

“For the moment, tie you up.” Jack knotted the rope and slipped it over Arthur’s right wrist. He pulled it snug. “If you had a car, I’d take you with me.”

Arthur watched Jack wrap the rope over his other arm. “You would?”

“Yeah, I would. But no car means you need to stay here. And because you haven’t looked at me … today is your lucky day.” Jack tied Arthur’s legs to the centre post of the chair. “I need time to get away before you call the cops.”

“I wouldn’t. You’ve done nothing to me.”

“You would, but that’s okay. So would I.” Jack pulled on his coat. With a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, he reached forward and plucked a twenty from the cash float. “Sorry, but I’m broke.”

“It’s fine.”

“Arthur, you’ve been great.” Jack bent down and whispered in his captive’s ear. The kidnapper’s lips moved against his prisoner’s cheek. “Oh, there’s something else …”

Arthur gasped, but Jack slipped a hand over his mouth. “Shhhh. You wait five minutes before you start to yell.”

Nodding, the tied man whispered, “Okay.”

Arthur heard the lock snick. “Take care, Arthur.” He heard the door open and then close. He was alone.

 _____

“It’s still closed.” Preston pressed his face against the glass. “I can see a tray of pastry and the coffee machine looks on.” Stepping back, he turned to Jason. “Something’s wrong.”

“Shut-up, Pres. You hear that?”

“Yelling. Let’s go around the back.”

The pair walked up the block and around. They peered down the alley.

“I don’t see anything,” Preston said.

“Let’s go.”

Jason was the first to push the door open. “Oh, hell.” He turned to Preston. “Call the cops.”

 _____

Arthur sat with Detective Gage. “I never looked at him. He said because I hadn’t it was my lucky day. He said his name was Jack. He wasn’t violent or anything.”

Gage made notes, even though the conversation was recorded. “I see. Anything else?”

“Yes, he said you were sloppy. Said there were two more at Paulson’s Pond.”

The End