by K. J. Emrick
“No,” she said at once, even as she thought that maybe he might have a point. “My bakery is not for sale, whatever the cost. You leave me alone.”
“Now, now,” Belvedere said to her, shifting in his seat. “That’s no way to talk to your neighbors, Cookie. Benjamin here is only trying to help.”
“I don’t want his help, Mister Mayor. Whatever he has planned for that section of town he’ll have to do it without me.”
She spun on her heel, and stalked back to the table where Clarissa sat waiting. Her eyes followed Cookie all the way back to her seat. “Sorry about that d… I mean, sorry Clarissa. I had to take care of some things.”
“It didn’t look like you were having a fun conversation.”
Cookie chuckled. “It was that obvious, was it? Well. Let’s just say that the man sitting over there with the mayor wants to buy my bakery, and I’d just as soon stick it up his—”
“Grandma!”
“Well. You know what I mean. I’m not selling to the man, let’s just say that.”
“Didn’t he offer you enough money?”
“We didn’t talk price.”
“Then maybe you should give him a chance.”
“You,” Cookie told her, “should finish your sandwich. Then I want to get back to our apartment so I can be there in case Jerry calls with news.”
“Our apartment?” Clarissa asked.
“Why, yes. It’s where we’re both going to be living. That makes it ours, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t answer. She just let a little smile curl her lips as she took another bite of her sandwich.
***
Two days later, Cookie dressed in her only black dress. Most of her clothing was bright and colorful. She’d never had to attend a lot of funerals. She was getting to that age, she knew, when her friends would start dying off. For now, funerals were a rare occurrence.
Unless somebody died in your shop. That kind of obligated you to attend the service.
Clarissa didn’t have a dress so she wore a pair of nice pants and a black sweater instead. She’d be a little warm, maybe, but she’d look appropriate. It was something of a victory that Clarissa was attending at all. There had been eye rolls and long sighs that would have tested any of the Saints.
Cookie was still doing everything she could to keep Clarissa from becoming a hermit in their apartment. She’d need to make friends, and meet people, and see that life could be more than just the constant bickering she’d had in her mother’s home.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror of her bedroom. Lack of sleep was catching up with her. Something had to give or she’d end up taking sleeping pills. Maybe a good man in her life could tire her out and let her get some sleep but seeing as how that wasn’t likely to be an option any time soon, she’d have to keep praying for sleep to come the usual way.
The bakery had been reopened yesterday, the day after Julien died, and there had been so much to do that she hadn’t gotten to sleep until after midnight. She’d had to dip into her rainy day fund that she kept strictly for emergencies to pay for new supplies to get up and running again. She didn’t like seeing her emergency fund depleted to almost nothing, and it would probably take her months to replace the money she’d used. She hoped nothing else major happened as she would definitely be up the creek without a paddle. But it was worth it just to see her shop open for business again.
She’d closed the shop for the morning so that she could attend the funeral but she and Clarissa had still been up early to be ready for the nine A.M. service. Thankfully, Clarissa had helped her yesterday by cleaning and doing small tasks like stirring batter or fetching eggs. She’d let Cookie know how much she hated every minute of it, but she never said no when she was asked to do something.
There hadn’t been as much business as usual, and it was just a simple fact that people were going to be scared off by the news of Julien’s death, she supposed. Not her loyal customers, though. And not those looking to catch a glimpse at where a dead man had taken his last breath.
Out in the living room Cookie found Clarissa sitting on the couch, tapping a foot impatiently on the floor and texting on her phone. How did she possibly know that many people? “You ready?” she asked her granddaughter.
“Sure, but tell me again why I’m going? I didn’t even know the guy.”
“Because people go to funerals. It’s only for an hour. I’m sure you’ll survive. Being grown up means doing things like this.”
That was the end of the conversation, except for one last eye roll from Clarissa.
Cookie drove them to the funeral home. It simply would have taken too long to walk. The place was already packed twenty minutes before the service was supposed to start. In a small town people came together for these things. She heard the whispers when she came in, but she’d heard the rumors about town already. Questions of whether her food was really safe.
As much as she wanted to, she just could not believe this was an accident. She’d had the time to think about it for more than a day now, to remember how Julien’s face had contorted in pain, and she was convinced now that someone had killed the man.
Whether her crème puff was the murder weapon or not, she didn’t know.
Clarissa stood uncomfortably with her arms crossed, staring around her at the rows of metal chairs that had been set up, at the flowers in their big display vases along the sides of the walls, and the people milling about the room against a backdrop of white walls and white carpet and white… well, everything.
“We can get in line to see him,” Cookie offered, pointing up to the front where a polished brown coffin sat with one half of the lid open.
“Not me,” Clarissa said with emphasis. “I don’t want to look at a dead body, thanks.”
Cookie couldn’t argue. Seeing him dead the first time had been enough. She pointed to a chair. “Then you sit in the back and don’t bother anyone. Make sure your phone is on vibrate.”
“I will.” The smartphone was already out in her hands and her focus was on the little chat bubbles before her backside had even rested itself on the seat.
Cookie frowned at her for a moment, actually wishing she could do the same, before forcing herself to get in the line going up to the casket. It took only a few minutes to reach the front of the room where Julien lay in repose, but it seemed like forever. She imagined every eye in the place was on her. It was not a pleasant feeling.
The job the funeral home had done was professional. He looked like he was sleeping. In fact, he looked happier than she remembered seeing him in her shop, ever.
Wishing she could ask the man lying in the box several dozen questions, she turned away to let the next person in line have their turn. That’s when she saw Jerry over near a corner of the room. He was talking with someone she didn’t immediately recognize. He was in a pair of slacks and a shirt that definitely flattered his body, so Cookie figured it must be his day off.
Well, he was just going to have to talk about work on his day off.
“Hi,” she said to him. “Just the man I was looking for.”
The person with him, a youngish woman who Cookie remembered now, excused herself and walked away. She didn’t remember the woman’s name. All Cookie remembered about her was that she was a recent divorcee. Apparently, Jerry’s good looks hadn’t been lost on anyone.
“Was it something I said?” Cookie snarked. “Your friend seemed to leave in a real hurry.”
He tried for a smile. “Don’t mind Kari. It’s fine.”
She looked around again. “I feel like everyone blames me.”
“Ignore them. You know you didn’t do anything.”
“I do, but does anyone else? I thought I would have heard from you by now, Jerry.”
He looked apologetic. “I was hoping to have something to tell you. I’m not avoiding you, Cookie, I promise. The lab can only work so quickly. I’m told they have some of the substances analyzed. They just won’t release a report until the
y have everything done.”
“And…” She lowered her voice. “The autopsy results?”
“You have to understand.” He pulled her a little further away from everyone, and she tried not to show how much she liked him holding her hand when he did. “We can’t officially rule this a homicide. If we could, the state lab would move everything about this case up to the top of their list. But we can’t. Julien died, sure, but without the proof to say he was murdered we can’t call it one.”
“And without calling it a murder,” Cookie summed up, “we can’t get the proof we need to make the lab go faster. That’s a big old circle we’re working in, isn’t it?”
“Yes. So that’s the problem. The lab will get the results of the food from your shop and Julien’s blood and stomach contents and…” He stopped when he saw the way Cookie’s face was turning green. “Sorry. We’ll know something in another day. Maybe two.”
“You hope.”
“I hope.”
She tried to think of how to ask the other questions crowding in her mind. He chatted with her for a while, and she was glad to just be a woman talking with a friend instead of the object of rumors running rampant through the town. It was nice, to be this close to him, and feel like everything was all right.
Their conversation was interrupted by a familiar face walking up to them, Cookies friend Jamie. She smiled at Cookie, her dark black curls bouncing against her forehead, the pleats of her gray dress swirling about her knees. Jamie was at least ten years younger than Cookie and she always felt like a drab, dreary old matron compared to her beautiful friend. Jamie’s attention quickly turned to Jerry.
“Are you taking good care of her, Jerry?”
Cookie didn’t know why, but she felt her face heating at the way her friend had said that. Jamie was an expert at making the most innocent things sound, well, not innocent. The way she was looking at Jerry wasn’t innocent, either.
Jamie had no lack of confidence in herself, that was for sure.
Sometimes Cookie wished she could be more like her.
“Hello, Jamie,” Jerry said. He moved closer to Cookie, and whether he meant to do it or not, it made her feel special. “I’m glad you’re here. Cookie needs her friends with her.”
“That’s what she has you for, isn’t it?” she said, adding a wink.
Suddenly, Jerry couldn’t look at Cookie, and Cookie wished she could read his thoughts.
The crowd in the room shifted and the murmur of conversation died down. Clarissa hadn’t moved. She was still hunched over her phone. People were taking their seats and the funeral director came out to the podium at the side of the room. The service was starting. She tried to get her granddaughter’s attention. She wanted her to put away her phone. Clarissa never looked up.
“Looks like we have to be seated,” Jamie said. “Jerry, want to come sit with me?”
He cleared his throat. “Actually Jamie, Cookie has saved a seat for me. We can catch up after.”
Jamie’s eyes slid from Jerry to Cookie, and they were full of rampant speculation that Cookie couldn’t begin to deny without sounding foolish. She hadn’t saved Jerry a seat, but now the rumor mill would have that bit of info to add to the churning gossip.
Taking her by the arm, Jerry led Cookie over to where Clarissa was sitting. When she knew they were far enough away from Jamie, she leaned over and whispered, “You were pretty sure of yourself.”
“Am I?” he teased. “You mean you didn’t save me a seat?”
“What if I don’t have a chair next to us for you to sit in?”
“Well,” he said, slowly, “you could always sit on my lap.”
She wasn’t able to catch her breath. What was she supposed to say to that?
Thankfully there were two seats next to Clarissa, and they sat quietly listening to the funeral director talk about life, and how short it was, and how we were meant to live it to the fullest while we could.
Good advice. Cookie chanced a look over at Jerry. Yes. Very good advice.
The funeral director was done with his speech now, and the mayor and his wife, Jessica, stood up to say a few words. He held his arm around her slender shoulders, and she cried while he spoke about how close he and Julien had been. There were a few moments that he recalled that made everyone in the room laugh, and Clarissa finally popped her head up from her phone’s screen at the sound of it. Odd thing, for a funeral parlor.
Everyone handled their grief differently, Cookie supposed.
Chapter Five
After the mayor and Jessica sat down, Reverend Smith stood up. This wasn’t a religious service, but the people of Widow’s Rest all attended church for the most part, and the reverend was an important figure in the community. Everyone looked up to him for guidance when times were tough. Like now.
“Thank you for coming today,” he said to the crowd, one hand adjusting his thick glasses on the bridge of his nose. He’d lost most of his hair at an early age and with the spectacles he looked to be nearly Cookie’s age, although she knew he was only forty-something. There just didn’t seem to be any really young men of the cloth to be found anymore.
He looked around the room as if making sure his audience was listening to him. “Julien Benner had been a member of our community his whole life. He was taken from us too soon, and there are those among us who will miss him terribly.”
And, Cookie thought to herself, there are those who wanted him dead. Not that she wouldn’t be glad not to have his brand of cynical narcissism in her shop every morning. Did that make her a bad person? Well. Truth was truth, no matter how unpleasant it might be.
“How much longer?” Clarissa whispered to Cookie, a touch too loudly.
“Shh,” Cookie said back in a voice just as low. “This is important. He’s telling us what a saint Julien was.”
Jerry leaned into their conversation. “Did you know he invented the internet?”
Clarissa turned wide eyes on him. “Really?”
“Sure. Puppies, too. He invented the internet, and puppies. Oh, and rainbows.”
When Clarissa couldn’t quite stifle a giggle behind her hand, a few people in front of them turned to stare.
“Sorry,” Cookie said quickly. “She, uh, had to cough.”
She looked at Jerry in amazement. He’d made her tough, thick-skinned teenage granddaughter laugh. How amazing was that?
As Reverend Smith kept talking, Jessica Carson began crying. Then her shoulders began to shake. Soon, she was sobbing loudly. The reverend glanced at her through his glasses, not sure what to make of it.
Jessica let out a moan and her husband gave her a side hug, but didn’t hold onto her. Cookie couldn’t see his face but his body language was impatient. Like he was only tolerating her breaking down but really wished that she’d stop.
She leaned toward Jerry to talk over Clarissa’s head. “Is she really that upset? Were they that close?”
“Julien used to have dinner with the mayor and his wife on a regular basis,” Jerry said.
That was interesting. Especially considering Jessica’s reaction.
Did Jessica Carson know something she wasn’t telling? Did her husband? She couldn’t help it. Everyone thought she did this thing, or thought her food had poisoned a man, and she had to prove them wrong.
As she listened to the reverend drone on about God’s plan for everyone, she thought about what could have possibly made someone want to kill Julien Benner. There had to be a motive. Wasn’t that what it always came down to on those cop shows? She certainly didn’t like the man, but she had no motive to kill him.
So who did?
Again, she looked at Jessica, and wondered about her tears.
She pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to tell Jerry that she planned on looking into the matter, but the crime lab wasn’t giving them any answers and Jerry hadn’t found anything new. At least not that he’d told her. But she had a vested interest in finding the killer. Not wanting her livelihood or h
er life to be destroyed. That was her motive. No one could stop her.
Then, as she watched, Jessica Carson collapsed onto the floor. The reverend stopped mid-sentence, looking down at her, completely at a loss. It was Jerry who moved forward to help.
Before he could do anything, the mayor held up his hand. “I’ll take care of this.”
Jerry hesitated in the aisle. The mayor lifted his wife carefully back into her seat, patting her hand, whispering to her until she nodded her head and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
Cookie couldn’t imagine being that upset about her husband’s friend. No. This was something else.
“Jessica, my love,” the mayor said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. She murmured something back, and Belvedere nodded. “Okay. Let’s take you home.”
Everyone watched as he walked across the room, his wife limp against his side, and out the door. The room remained in silence for the space of a few heartbeats afterward, and then the reverend picked up his sermon right where he’d left off.
“What was that all about?” Cookie wondered under her breath.
“I’m not sure what to think.” Jerry answered her. “I mean, the mayor’s wife isn’t a strong lady. She gets sick a lot. I’ve heard she’s on bed rest every few weeks.”
A few people turned to look at them, and Cookie realized they’d been too loud, even over the wheezy voice of the reverend.
Putting one finger to her lips, Cookie rocked her head to one side, meaning they should step away from everyone else to talk. Clarissa rolled her eyes when she saw them getting up and went back to texting quietly on her phone. At least she was keeping herself occupied.
Back near the entry hall, beside the sign-in book where the light from the bay window made slanting rays of sun fall across the red carpeting, Cookie made sure to keep her voice low and whispery. “I mean,” she said, “if my friend died, I’d be upset, but I don’t think I’d collapse.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jerry said with a wry smile.