Dame J. E. Marshall Productions Presents: DURCHEINANDER
The Homage To Sir Alfred Hitchcock
Chapter One
THE GRAND REOPENING / July 3, 2013
It was the summer the crickets took over Hermosa Beach, California. The rumor was that the constant twittering of those crickets drove some people mad and made others completely disappear.
On the afternoon before the grand July 4th reopening of the best burger bistro on the strand, the sun was making the sea sparkle while the old sign that read: "BRENNER'S BURGERS" was being taken down. The building's owner, Mr. Mitchell Doyle, watched as a delicate new neon sign was being prepped to take its place.
Mr. Doyle wore a lighter, summer version of the charcoal grey pen striped suit that had become his trademark. He spotted Thelma Reynolds heading down the strand towards him at a very fast clip, considering that she was sixty four years old.
"Afternoon, Miss Reynolds. Runnin' from the law?" Mitchell Doyle tipped his hat.
"Was I going all that fast?" The years of smoking, hard liqour and shouting at cooks had given Thelma a bit of a frog voice.
"Any faster and I'd need a skateboard to keep up with you." Doyle teased.
"I was just trying to beat you to the door and lock you out before you could raise the rent again." Thelma quipped.
Mr. Doyle held the door open for Thelma and followed her into the bistro. The former Mrs. Brenner was seated at the bar with her back to them. She was lost in her paper work.
"Love what you've done with the place, Miss Hayworth." Mitchell Doyle announced.
"Oh!" Melanie Hayworth spun the barstool around so fast that she knocked over her iced tea.
"I'll get a towel!" Thelma rushed behind the counter.
"I didn't hear you come in." Melanie fingered her pearl necklace as she did when she was nervous.
"I'm very sorry." Mitchell was a bit startled as well. He had seen Melanie many times before and yet her beauty still overwhelmed him. Her slender legs dangled from the barstool. She had kicked off her pumps and was slipping back into them. She wore a white silk blouse and a sea green jacket and skirt. One strand of blonde hair had escaped her otherwise perfect French twist and was playing hard to catch in the afternoon sea breeze.
"There." Thelma handed the paperwork to Melanie. "I've rescued your papers." Thelma finished drying the bar.
"Allow me to buy you ladies a drink. It's the least I could do." Mitchell offered.
"I was having some sun tea. Do join us for a glass." Melanie offered.
"I will, but I insist on buying." Mitchell was still uncomfortable.
Thelma brought out a tray ofglasses filled with ice and a pitcher of tea with thin lemon slices floating in it.
"I hope you like lemon, Mr. Doyle." Thelma said.
"Yes." Mitchell answered. He gave Thelma a twenty. "Keep the change."
"You bet." Thelma headed towards the cash register.
"Thelma, no..." Melanie started.
Thelma opened the cash register and screamed.
"Thelma! What is it?!" Melanie got up to see what was the matter. Mitchell followed suit.
"Crickets!" Thelma let out a deep sigh. "Pardon me while I fish out the one that jumped between my bosoms."
"How on earth did they get inside the register?" Melanie asked.
"I hope you ladies are not planning to tell me the crickets ate the rent." Mitchell suddenly felt relaxed enough to joke again. Thelma's scream had broken the ice.
"No, but I am going to Google to see what they eat and if they do eat cash, we'll be serving chocolate covered cricket topping on the tiramisu this summer." Thelma announced.
Thelma took the cricket from her bra and before she threw it out the door she told it, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Shame on you."
"Where did they come from?" Melanie asked.
"No one knows. It's just Hermosa Beach. There aren't any in Manhattan or Redondo Beach." Mitchell commented.
"Must be some sort of cricket convention. I'm going to the kitchen to see if the crickets have eaten our new cook." Thelma said as she left the room.
"By the way, Mr. Doyle, what brings you to the land of the crickets today?" Melanie asked with a twinkle of mischief in her bright blue eyes.
"Well, I was just passing through and I stopped by to see if that ex-husband of yours had burned the place down yet." Mitchell answered.
"I think you came here to see me." Melanie took a sip of tea.
"What a thing to say! You may be beautiful, sophisticated, humorous and intelligent, but you can't deny you have horrible taste in men."
"Speak of the devil! That's Scott Brenner's drunken silhoutte on the beach. I'd recognize Scottie's gait from any distance!" Melanie grew serious and covered her pearl necklace with her hand.
The Homage To Sir Alfred Hitchcock
Chapter One
THE GRAND REOPENING / July 3, 2013
It was the summer the crickets took over Hermosa Beach, California. The rumor was that the constant twittering of those crickets drove some people mad and made others completely disappear.
On the afternoon before the grand July 4th reopening of the best burger bistro on the strand, the sun was making the sea sparkle while the old sign that read: "BRENNER'S BURGERS" was being taken down. The building's owner, Mr. Mitchell Doyle, watched as a delicate new neon sign was being prepped to take its place.
Mr. Doyle wore a lighter, summer version of the charcoal grey pen striped suit that had become his trademark. He spotted Thelma Reynolds heading down the strand towards him at a very fast clip, considering that she was sixty four years old.
"Afternoon, Miss Reynolds. Runnin' from the law?" Mitchell Doyle tipped his hat.
"Was I going all that fast?" The years of smoking, hard liqour and shouting at cooks had given Thelma a bit of a frog voice.
"Any faster and I'd need a skateboard to keep up with you." Doyle teased.
"I was just trying to beat you to the door and lock you out before you could raise the rent again." Thelma quipped.
Mr. Doyle held the door open for Thelma and followed her into the bistro. The former Mrs. Brenner was seated at the bar with her back to them. She was lost in her paper work.
"Love what you've done with the place, Miss Hayworth." Mitchell Doyle announced.
"Oh!" Melanie Hayworth spun the barstool around so fast that she knocked over her iced tea.
"I'll get a towel!" Thelma rushed behind the counter.
"I didn't hear you come in." Melanie fingered her pearl necklace as she did when she was nervous.
"I'm very sorry." Mitchell was a bit startled as well. He had seen Melanie many times before and yet her beauty still overwhelmed him. Her slender legs dangled from the barstool. She had kicked off her pumps and was slipping back into them. She wore a white silk blouse and a sea green jacket and skirt. One strand of blonde hair had escaped her otherwise perfect French twist and was playing hard to catch in the afternoon sea breeze.
"There." Thelma handed the paperwork to Melanie. "I've rescued your papers." Thelma finished drying the bar.
"Allow me to buy you ladies a drink. It's the least I could do." Mitchell offered.
"I was having some sun tea. Do join us for a glass." Melanie offered.
"I will, but I insist on buying." Mitchell was still uncomfortable.
Thelma brought out a tray ofglasses filled with ice and a pitcher of tea with thin lemon slices floating in it.
"I hope you like lemon, Mr. Doyle." Thelma said.
"Yes." Mitchell answered. He gave Thelma a twenty. "Keep the change."
"You bet." Thelma headed towards the cash register.
"Thelma, no..." Melanie started.
Thelma opened the cash register and screamed.
"Thelma! What is it?!" Melanie got up to see what was the matter. Mitchell followed suit.
"Crickets!" Thelma let out a deep sigh. "Pardon me while I fish out the one that jumped between my bosoms."
"How on earth did they get inside the register?" Melanie asked.
"I hope you ladies are not planning to tell me the crickets ate the rent." Mitchell suddenly felt relaxed enough to joke again. Thelma's scream had broken the ice.
"No, but I am going to Google to see what they eat and if they do eat cash, we'll be serving chocolate covered cricket topping on the tiramisu this summer." Thelma announced.
Thelma took the cricket from her bra and before she threw it out the door she told it, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Shame on you."
"Where did they come from?" Melanie asked.
"No one knows. It's just Hermosa Beach. There aren't any in Manhattan or Redondo Beach." Mitchell commented.
"Must be some sort of cricket convention. I'm going to the kitchen to see if the crickets have eaten our new cook." Thelma said as she left the room.
"By the way, Mr. Doyle, what brings you to the land of the crickets today?" Melanie asked with a twinkle of mischief in her bright blue eyes.
"Well, I was just passing through and I stopped by to see if that ex-husband of yours had burned the place down yet." Mitchell answered.
"I think you came here to see me." Melanie took a sip of tea.
"What a thing to say! You may be beautiful, sophisticated, humorous and intelligent, but you can't deny you have horrible taste in men."
"Speak of the devil! That's Scott Brenner's drunken silhoutte on the beach. I'd recognize Scottie's gait from any distance!" Melanie grew serious and covered her pearl necklace with her hand.
~ To Be Continued ~
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