8 p.m. could not have arrived too soon. The mental wear of being a waiter was beginning to set in. The moral boost provided by the Texan was insufficient in the private eye maintaining complete mental acuity. Any attempt prior to reinvigorate himself was met with new customers sitting down in Jones'' zone. Only the sunset had helped with the Jones'' depleting energy.
"Mr. Wells, you did quite alright out there." said the shift manager in a mild voice at a bit after 8:00. The stand off ishness from before had seemed to be wearing off. It turns out that Luca had told him that he was a completely inexperienced hire. The shift manager had attempted to make the training hard for that very reason. The harshness of his treatment must have flown right over Jones'' preoccupied mind.
"Your demeanor is indicative of a man inexperienced in the waiting business." said the manager in a very intellectual voice. His voice alone made it seem certain that the man''s passion was being a waiter. The certainty the shift manager conveyed was that which Jones expected from a university professor. Jones never had met an academic so he had no way of confirming the veracity of his statement
The manager continued after the briefest of stutters, "Wait, wait I do not mean that negatively. Truthfully, I disagree with the hiring practices here. They want professional waiters, but are not willing to take a risk on new blood usually. The demeanor of a professional waiter is all too callous. Experienced waiters are nice and all but they focus on just doing their job. Our guests also expect a degree of entertainment from their waiter. Some sort of humanity in the person ensuring that their experience is enjoyable. We are a country club first and not just a restaurant." His words rang of idealism. It was evident the man thought of this all day. Jones had never heard of any restaurant theory, but the notion of a better experience in something so simple intrigued him.
Jones'' mind for the case also found what the shift manager said to be of interest. His investigative mind only heard one thing, a waiter had to be experienced before coming here. Claudia''s father never mentioned her having any experience waiting before. He only mentioned that she wanted to start a new life. Till now, Jones imagined that this meant a completely new line of work. Jones would ask Luca later about the exact circumstance of her hiring.
Thoughts on the case ran parallel to the conversation that Junkyard Jones was having with the shift manager still, "You are right I have never been a waiter, but I heard much from my sister. She used to work here. Did you know her? Her name was Claudia."
"Yeah, I knew her. Real quiet gal. She worked lots of double shifts. When you have the gift of gab waiting tables becomes a lot easier honestly. I only ever heard her talk that way with the guests though. She was a bit too quiet for rest of the staff. We have very little turnover here and people like to know your weakness if you know what I am saying."
Jones was getting a better understanding of the environment with each passing moment. The fellow waitstaff on duty where starting to give Brian less blank stares and say hello to him in passing. The shift manager offered his condolences, but was unable to stay any longer in the conversation as his work beckoned.
It proved to be awhile until the next customer sat in Jones'' zone. The last customers that happened upon Jones'' zone were extraordinarily presumptive. Demands were given and Jones could barely hold it together without revealing his sense of frustration. Somehow none of his negative emotion was exposed despite how out of depth the P.I. was. Maybe the only time he really was in his depth that whole evening was when dealing with annoying customers who had complete control of a situation. A private eye''s clients often tend to figure that the gumshoe they are hiring to be someone willing to do anything for money. Somehow they must be told no and still feel like they are getting what they want.
Tribulation with customers turned out to be rite of passage and Jones was welcomed into this little family of dining room attendants soon thereafter.
It was midnight and Jones finally was able to reach the formal break room. During the work hours, the informal congregation of the workers was in a hall right near the kitchen. There was a discreet view available there that allowed for the waiters to keep an eye on the situation and still be out of direct reach. The balance was necessary to perform the job and to not go insane.
Jones had been standing this whole time. The ache he felt at the beginning of the day had only become exacerbated during his six hour shift. Everyone looked so busy when passing by that Jones had hardly a chance to make deep conversation without the feeling of committing some cardinal sin among the waitstaff.
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His shift was over and he was soon supposed to head home, but now was the perfect time to snoop. He was surprised that quite a few of the workers still remained. He opened with an exclamation of his fatigue at his last customer.
"How many times does a person need to see a menu before they finally can memorize its content?"
A skinny middle aged man replied, "Once more than the amount of times you handed it to them that is for certain." The whole group laughed with much sympathy. This behavior from a customer was something that often gouged their patience. A rude customer could be tolerable when at the end of a shift, but in the middle of a busy period their attitude made life simply unbearable.
"Hey, does anyone know the score of the Arlington game last night?"
"Arlington 31 - Defenders 24"
"Oh shoot."
"Big football fan, ey?"
"Just lost a bet. That darn bookie said it was a sure fire win."
Jones had not really lost the bet – he had won – but sometimes one must lie to expose the weakness desired by others. Jones was in a discerning mood. He believed only slime really found it necessary to know a man''s weakness to trust them. Yet, he needed to placate all moral consideration through the practical need of this crowd to be comfortable with him – and quick.
One week at most was not very long for undercover work. They could have the rest of their lives to believe in everyone''s innate corruption. The only thing that Jones ought discern for now was him being properly embedded for the time being. He had shown the capability to behave in just as measured and fake a way as they. Jones did not really know whether he was better than the crowd.
The veteran waiter took the initiative in inviting the flat foot to a small shin-ding. They all gathered in the a place in the woods near the mansion to have a drink after the day was through. There was no effective measure for Jones'' exhaustion at this point, but he felt the need to continue.
Seven members of the waitstaff all walked to a camp fire just off of the parking lot. One of them even stopped at their car to gather a case full of beers. The Lake House, in all of its glory was visible from the spot. The front was as decadent as the dining hall if not two fold. The pine wood exterior had a decadence rarely experienced by the beach. All of the buildings there were made concrete, a material with no organic tale. Jones was quite alright with the formation of his story purely by his lonesome, he needed no aid from a domicile. Still, he respected the help of the trees. The Lake House was assured to last a hefty duration longer than his meager body.
The sun had fully set by now, but one could not help but feel the glory of the world alight. The stars more than compensated for the absence of the sun tonight. The distance between nature and the civilized was so miniscule that one could not help feel amongst the beasts whilst enjoying carefully designed landscape. If Jones had the money, this would be a resort that he would routinely patronize. Unfortunately for the case of the private eye, a guest room cost more than a fourth of his yearly income for a single night. He could still enjoy this night no matter the dour circumstance.
For some reason he missed the sea right now. The ocean was always free. Jones wondered today the water reflected a shade of blue or green. He wondered whether the sky shone orange, purple, or yellow as the sun set some hours. There was something soothing about the waves in a time right now. The sea always remained the same. The waves came in and the waves rode out. The beer entered in the same gullet that the inebriated words came out. Only Jones remained sober in the little afterwork party. After all he was still on Gary Well''s clock. There was a murder to be solved.
Most of the inquiries Jones made to Claudia''s co-workers had so far yielded no results. He could only hope that the alcohol would loosen lips some. It was, however, clear that no one knew much about Claudia in earnest. One could not pry information from a person truly unknowing. She was quiet and kept to herself. Her dedication to her work prevented her from socializing. Despite no one saying in direct terms, no one trusted her. One of the female waitstaff claimed that she close with her boss. That same woman swore she heard her swearing the name of Vincent de More a few days before her death.
Jones pounced on this information,"Is this typical?"
Another waiter responded as the female waitress was guzzling a beer, "We all have had to talk with de More. Vincent de More is in charge of our pay more than Luca. We are met with the same excuse of it not making fiscal sense for us to get raises. At least, Luca allows us to address us on a first name basis. He is a nice enough guy, but has no real power around here. de More is always such a stickler for the rules and such. Curse him."
Jones empathized with the deceased here. Claudia was right to avoid the party. This social gathering was miserable and from what Jones understood it happened routinely. All the waitstaff were just drinking and complaining. These people had no eyes for the future. When not giving the brief nod to conversation, usually at the behest of Jones, they just looked at their drinks.
The night was almost over and the female waitress did say one more thing interesting in regards to the case.
"You know the only memory I have with your sister was when she needed help on table setting placement."
"Is that strange for a new hire?"
"Yes, very, well at least for here. Most people know the proper dimensions before they begin at The Lake House. Easily 150 years of waiting experience exists here between us. All of us have been working at this stupid job our entire lives. Well, not necessarily here, but still we are a guild of professional waiters!" she exclaimed, beginning to show visible signs of tipsiness.
"Here, here!" they exclaimed with a great deal of pride.
"She, your sister, definitely had not worked at this job before. I mean I have nothing against it. There are worse coworkers to have in this business. The experienced ones are sometimes better at stealing tips. I liked her. Really, I am sorry for your loss. And if you ever need help with setting the table just find me." She finished that last thought seductively with a grab at Jones'' arm. Jones was too shocked at the poor flirtation attempt to fully process the clue he had just been gifted. His earlier idea of her being a strange hire was now something to pursue with all due haste.