Photo Jennifer Weber 2010It was the strangest thing!
After church yesterday, TG expressed a desire to take me out to lunch. We decided to haunt our favorite Columbia restaurant: Harper's in Five Points.
Although I do think they're slipping at Harper's and soon may not deserve or be granted the dubious coveted designation of our favorite Columbia restaurant.
The sweet potato fries were not up to snuff, is all. Not quite fresh enough, and I don't understand how sweet potato fries can taste old at one o'clock in the afternoon.
The service -- usually excellent -- was okay but not exactly warm and enthusiastic. More like hurried and obligatory.
I do so hate that.
Forgive, Forget, And Leave A Healthy Gratuity
Still, we gave our clearly beleaguered waiter a thirty-percent tip because he moved us from what I consider to be the worst table in any restaurant -- the one directly outside the kitchen -- when I pouted and kvetched.
Good man, and smart.
But anyway, when we went to leave and reached our car, TG noticed something odd about the automobile parked beside us.
It was a Buick Lucerne. That's not the odd part.
The odd part is that although the car was empty of actual people, the front passenger door was open wide (nearly touching the driver's side door of our car), and a lady's purse was in the floorboard.
There was also a Bible on the passenger seat, and a church bulletin.
Where Is Holmes When You Need Him
TG the boy wonder was instantly intrigued. He began looking around the parking lot and back toward the door to the restaurant, all alert and everything despite having consumed substandard sweet potato fries and a huge slab of key lime pie.
But nothing suspicious revealed itself.
Nobody walking toward the car or away from the car, no lady coming back to fetch her purse and close the car door, nobody nearby clutching a doggy-bag, talking to a long-lost friend, while their door stood ajar and their purse was in plain view.
Cue Twilight Zone music.
TG (a/k/a Last Of The Nice Guys) hastened to inform Harper's management of the situation. By the time he came back outside, a few ladies were standing nearby, chatting.
TG said excuse me ladies and asked if they knew anything about the mysterious door ajar.
Nope, they said. But one lady pointed out that no woman would go into a restaurant without taking her purse with her, much less leave it in plain view in the car with the door wide open.
All That's Missing Is The Deerstalker
At about that time it began pouring rain.
That's when TG whipped out his cell phone and called 911.
Want to know my exact thought at that juncture, as I fought draconian humidity in my stuffy car?
Okay, I'll tell you: What business is it of ours? Why must we concern ourselves with an absent-minded individual who can't keep track of her car door and her purse?
Whiny codicil: Hellowwww? I want to go home.
But then I must admit, dire scenarios began occurring to me: Had it been an abduction? Had there been foul play? Was a people-snatcher about, with no interest in purses?
I'll cut to the denouement.
The police arrived within ten minutes and listened to TG tell his story. Then the officer went inside the restaurant, no doubt prepared to utter the famous line: "Just the facts, ma'am."
But before he did, he told us we could leave.
Elementary, My Dear Watson
But we couldn't! We couldn't leave the scene of the maybe-crime!
So we circled the block and parked in the back of the Harper's parking lot, facing out so we could draw a bead on the mysterious open vehicle.
Shortly the policeman (who had parked his cruiser in the space we'd vacated) returned, wearing a Day-Glo yellow slicker against the frog-strangling rain.
He got back aboard his cruiser.
We waited.
And then it happened: A middle-aged man trotted out of Harper's and headed for the Buick Lucerne. He had keys in his hand and we saw him use his remote to make the lights go on.
I guess he got in. There was no lady with him.
It's a mystery.
As for us? Just call us crimestoppers nonpareil!
We did, after all, stop a car door from being ajar in a parking lot.