“When your time’s up, it’s up,” Paul said philosophically. He turned around and opened the refrigerator. Looking into the patty box, he could see it was almost empty.
“Skip!” Paul yelled. He’d seen Skip out in the restaurant proper emptying the trash containers.
“Do you have the newspaper?” Roger asked.
“Yeah,” Paul said. “It’s on the table in the employee room. Help yourself.”
“What’s up?” Skip asked. He’d come to the outer side of the counter.
“I need more burgers from the walk-in,” Paul said. “And while you’re at it, bring a couple of packages of buns.”
“Can I finish what I’m doing first?” Skip asked.
“No,” Paul said. “I need ‘em now. I only have two patties left.”
Skip muttered under his breath as he rounded the counter and headed to the restaurant’s rear. He liked to finish one job before starting another. It was also beginning to bug him that everybody in the whole place could boss him around.
Skip pulled open the heavy, insulated door to the freezer and stepped into the arctic chill. The automatic door closed behind him. He pushed back the flaps of the first carton on the left but found it was empty. He cursed loudly. His colleague equivalent on the day shift always left him things to do. This empty carton would have to be cut down for recycling.
Skip went to the next carton and found that one empty as well. Picking up both cartons, he opened the door and threw them out of the freezer. Then he walked into the depths of the walk-in to locate the reserve patty cartons. He scraped the frost off the label on the nearest one he could find. It said: MERCER MEATS. REG. 0.1 LB HAMBURGER PATTIES, EXTRA LEAN. LOT 6 BATCH 9-14. PRODUCTION: JAN. 12, USE By: APR. 12.
“I remember this baby,” Skip said out loud. He checked the flaps. Sure enough, the carton had been opened.
To be certain there weren’t any older patties, Skip scraped off the frost from the label of the final carton. The date was the same.
Grabbing the first carton by its flaps, Skip dragged it to the front of the freezer. Only then did he reach inside to pull out one of the interior boxes. As he’d expected this box had been opened as well.
Skip carried the patty box back to the kitchen, and after squeezing by Paul who was busy scraping the residue off the grill, Skip put the patty box in the refrigerator.
“We’re finally using those burgers I opened by accident a week or so ago,” Skip said as he slammed the refrigerator door.
“That’s cool as long as the other ones are finished,” Paul said, without looking up from his labors.
“I checked,” Skip said. “The older ones are all gone.”
The large wall clock on the wall of the WENE newsroom gave Kelly the exact time. It was 6:07. The local news had been on since five-thirty. Her segment was scheduled to begin at 6:08, and the technician was still fumbling with her microphone. As usual Kelly’s pulse was racing.
One of the large TV cameras suddenly was rolled into place directly in front of her. The cameraman was nodding and speaking softly into his headphone. Got of the corner of her eye she saw the director pick up his microphone wire and hear in her direction. In the background she could hear the anchor, Marilyn Wodinsky, finishing a wrap-up of the national news.
“Good grief,” Kelly snapped. She pushed away the technician’s hand and rapidly secured the microphone herself. It was a good thing because within seconds the director held up five fingers and gave the countdown, ending by pointing at Kelly. Simultaneously the camera in front of Kelly went live.
“Good evening, everyone,” Kelly said. “We have an in-depth report this evening concerning a sad local story; a story that plays like a Greek tragedy. A year ago we had a picture-perfect family. The father was one of the country’s most renowned cardiac surgeons; the mother, a psychotherapist, highly regarded in her own right; and the daughter, a darling, talented ten-year-old, considered by some as a rising star in figure skating. The denouement started presumably with the merger of the University Hospital and the Samaritan. Apparently, this put pressure on the marriage. Soon after, a bitter divorce and custody battle ensued. Then a few days ago, on Saturday afternoon, the daughter died of a strain of E. coli which has surfaced in intermittent outbreaks around the country. Dr. Kim Reggis, the father, pushed to the limit by the sad disintegration of his life, decided that the local beef industry was responsible for his daughter’s death. He became convinced that his daughter had contracted the toxin from an Onion Ring restaurant in the area. The Onion Ring chain gets its burgers from Mercer Meats, and Mercer Meats gets a significant amount of its beef from Higgins and Hancock. The distraught Dr. Kim Reggis disguised himself as a blond drifter, obtained employment under an alias at Higgins and Hancock, and shot dead another Higgins and Hancock employee. The deceased is Carlos Mateo, who leaves behind a disabled wife and six young children.