by K. J. Emrick
“I’m glad you decided to come out with me, Cookie.”
“So am I. Tell me. How long have you been waiting to ask me?”
“Oh, a while now.”
She slapped him gently across his chest. “Jerk. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“If I knew that,” he said, “I would have asked you sooner.”
She looked at him, but couldn’t see his expression in the dark. She’d made the right choice in coming out with him. He was a good man.
Of course, she’d thought her husband was a good man, too, right up until he walked out on her.
***
The bar had a small crowd of customers sitting on stools or around the room at tables. He put a hand on the small of her back and they went in. That touch warmed and scared her. Where was this night heading? Well. She certainly couldn’t invite him back home. Not with Clarissa asleep in her apartment. Somehow, knowing there was no chance of that happening made the night easier.
“Drink at the bar or at a table?”
“Table is fine,” she said.
The music from a corner jukebox was Country. She didn’t mind Country music, although she preferred easy listening music or classical stuff. But it suited the place. More than a few heads turned to watch them as they found their way to an empty table. Jerry ordered them two beers, which sounded good to her.
“We could maybe order something to eat, too, if you want.”
“Aren’t you afraid to be seen with me out here?” she asked him. The question had been dogging her since they left the bakery. “I’m not exactly the best liked person in Widow’s Rest right now.”
“You are,” he said, “from where I’m sitting.”
Oh, it was a good thing the room was dark, Cookie thought. That was for sure.
Turning her face aside, she saw someone sitting a few tables away that she definitely did not expect to find out tonight at a bar. Mayor Carson. And he was sitting with Benjamin Roth again.
Small towns. You ran into everyone, even when you least wanted to.
Jerry saw them at the same time.
“The mayor is waving us over.”
“I noticed.”
“He’s with Mister Roth.”
“I noticed.”
The mayor waved again.
“You have questions. He’s got answers. Let’s go have a chat.”
Cookie nodded and let herself be led across the room. She forced a smile.
“Join us,” Belvedere said, graciously waving to the two empty seats at the table.
Cookie hoped that Jerry would decline for them. Instead he sat down between the mayor and Benjamin Roth, and she had no choice but to take the seat on the other side from him. She kept looking sideways at Benjamin, uncomfortable sitting this close to him.
She’d changed her mind. She should have stayed home.
Their beers came as they waited, and Cookie sipped at hers to give herself something to do.
Mayor Carson raised his own drink to her. “It was good to see you at the service today. Under the circumstances it was good that you were there.”
“Sure,” she said. What else could she say?
“So how is Jessica doing?” Jerry asked him. He glanced over at Cookie as he did, sharing a secret look. He was asking for her, and she felt her heart go out to him for doing it. She wasn’t going to be brave enough to confront the mayor herself. Especially with the sharp eyes of Benjamin Roth looking on.
Maybe she was imagining it but she thought she saw a myriad of emotions cross Belvedere’s face. Hard to tell in the lighting of the bar. “Well, uh, she’s home in bed. The funeral was too much for her.”
“We noticed,” Jerry said, trying to sound casual. “She was very worked up.”
Shadows collected around the mayor’s eyes. “She knows I was close to Julien.”
“Oh? It seemed like a strong reaction for her to have for a friend of yours.”
Belvedere took a moment to answer. “Well, we all grieve differently,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were all so close,” Cookie interjected.
This time it was Benjamin who answered, in that oily-smooth voice of his. “You don’t know everything that goes on in this town, Karen.”
His gaze bore into her, his face a study in meanness. She felt such rancor from this man. Had they gotten too close to a sensitive topic? Hm.
Benjamin sipped at his glass of dark liquor, the ice cubs tinkling. “I’ve a question for you, Karen. Can I look forward to a positive answer to my inquiry? Will you be selling me your bakery?”
“Certainly,” Cookie answered.
Hard to say whether Jerry or Benjamin were the most surprised. It was Benjamin who sat forward, his eyes full of greed. “Really?”
“Certainly,” she said again. “In many years, when I retire. Or when Hell freezes over. Whichever comes first.”
Jerry snorted a laugh that he tried in vain to get under control. The mayor eyed him, and he tried to wave it off like he’d swallowed his beer the wrong way.
Benjamin cleared his throat and swirled his drink. “Seriously Karen. Isn’t the bakery business getting old? You sell to me and you could retire now and move to a beach community and live out your days in the sun.”
“You make me sound ancient, Mister Roth.” She stiffened. “I love what I do and I’m good at it. Why would I want to sit on a beach?”
Jerry’s eyes regarded her from over the rim of his bottle as he took another pull from it. She had the impression he was picturing her in a bathing suit. If that was how he was going to look at her then she was going out tomorrow to buy one.
Not that she hadn’t heard that same argument from her daughter, about retiring now and taking things easy, but with her daughter it came from her heart. This man’s suggestion came from greed. She didn’t mind the long days and early mornings. This was her life, and she loved it.
“Aren’t you getting tired of working so hard?” Benjamin pressed.
“Do you work hard, Mister Roth?” The question had just popped out.
His smile was stiff. “I have money that works for me.”
Not so much, she thought, considering what she’d read online. “Well,” she said, “like I said, I love what I do. I’m not willing to sell. Sorry to disappoint you.”
The song from the jukebox ended, adding to the silence that fell at the table for several long heartbeats. Finally, Benjamin shifted in his chair and drained his drink. “No matter. I’ll have time to change your mind, I’m sure.”
She didn’t know what that meant, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know. At least the conversation was at an end.
“You’re sure you don’t have a price in mind?” he said a few seconds later.
Nope. This guy didn’t give up.
“I’ll say it again, Mister Roth. I’m not selling the bakery.”
His face went red, his hands clutching his empty glass. “Well I guess that ends the discussion. Belvedere, if you’ll excuse me, I’m calling it a night. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Officer Stansted.” After a moment, he added, “Karen. I hope there isn’t any more trouble at that bakery of yours.”
She stared after him. What did that mean?
“I do wish he’d call you by your nickname,” the mayor commented after Benjamin was gone. “Everyone else does.”
“My friends call me Cookie,” she said carefully. “I don’t think I could call Benjamin Roth a friend.”
“Now, Cookie. Don’t be like that. He’s a businessman. He only wants to make you a decent offer for your bakery.”
He certainly did. The question was, how far was he willing to go to get it from her…
She remembered his parting words. “I hope there isn’t any more trouble at that bakery of yours…”
Cookie jumped up from her seat, the mayor and Jerry both staring at her in surprise.
“What is it…?” Jerry started to ask her.
“I’m sorry. I, uh, need to ask Mister Roth something.”
She hightailed it out the door before Jerry could ask what she meant. Careful in the gloom of the bar, she made her way through the tables and out the front door. The parking lot had plenty of cars, and there were a few people hanging around outside, but Benjamin Roth was nowhere to be seen.
Where could he have gone?
“Oh, no.”
His words still haunted her. She now believed, more than ever, that he had killed Julien in order to get her to sell. Julien always came into the bakery, every morning, and ordered a crème puff. He was the most regular customer she had. Anyone who knew him even a little knew his morning routine. Which meant if someone wanted to poison him, it wouldn’t be hard at all.
Kill a customer in the bakery, cause her trouble, and she’d jump to sell the place. That was Roth’s plan.
Only, she’d just told him in very specific language that there was no way she would ever sell the bakery.
So what would he be willing to do now, to get the thing she was denying him?
Clarissa was at her apartment. She was home alone.
If Roth was headed there…
“Cookie?” Jerry said, suddenly standing at her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Jerry. Oh, thank God. I need to get home. Now.”
He didn’t ask her any questions. He saw the intensity of the expression on her face. Nodding, he took her by the hand and they ran over to his truck.
***
The streets were busy near the main part of town. The stars shone brightly in the sky. And she couldn’t care less. The five minutes it was going to take them to get back to the bakery seemed much too long. She never should have come out.
What if Roth was already inside her apartment?
She had a flash, an image of a man’s dark silhouette standing over Clarissa’s bed while she slept in her pink pajamas, oblivious to the hand reaching out for her…
“Can’t this truck go any faster?” she asked Jerry.
“Not really,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re here.”
“Oh, no. Look!”
Someone stood in front of the bakery. He was lurking in the shadows, and she couldn’t see who it was. Cookie pointed him out to Jerry as they came to a screeching stop at the curb. She reached for the door handle but Jerry was quicker. He was out of the truck in an instant with the practiced moves of a police officer.
“Hey!”
The man bolted. He ran so fast that he was already up the street and lost among the shadows by the time Cookie caught up to Jerry.
“What do we do now?” she wondered out loud.
“You go check on Clarissa,” he said, proving that he’d known what she’d been worried about all along. “I’ll see if I can track him.”
He kissed her cheek. “Be careful.”
Then he was off.
Through the front door, nothing seemed out of sorts. She turned the lights on, hurrying for the stairs up to the apartment. She didn’t hear Cream. She didn’t hear Clarissa. Was everything all right?
“Clarissa!” she called out as she reached the apartment door. She was through it in an instant, and there was her granddaughter, like she’d been waiting for her.
“What is it? What’s going on?’
Cookie hugged her. “Are you all right? Oh, I’m so glad to see you.”
Then she noticed Clarissa was dressed. Jeans and a nice top. Shoes on her feet.
Makeup on her face.
“Wait a minute.” Cookie looked her granddaughter over. “Maybe I should be the one asking you what’s going on.”
The girl stepped back. “Um, I was just going out for a walk.”
“Is that a fact? You look a little made up to be just going out for a walk.”
Clarissa shrugged. “I don’t leave the house without looking my best.”
Cookie knew she was a lot older than Clarissa. A senior citizen, even. But she wasn’t born yesterday. “I see. Well, it’s too late to go out. Besides. Jerry is going to be back soon. He’s chasing someone who was lurking around outside the shop.”
Cookie could see how much that bothered her granddaughter. Good. Let her be worried. She should know better than to go sneaking out in the middle of the night. Was she doing these sorts of things at her mother’s house?
“Okay. Um.” Clarissa had trouble getting her thoughts out. “I guess… I guess I’ll go back to bed now. Goodnight, Grandma.”
Cream lifted his head and popped one eye open from his little doggie bed, then went back to sleep. None of this concerned him.
She made sure that Clarissa’s bedroom door was closed tight before she went back downstairs. She’d have to make a mental note not to leave Clarissa alone at night anymore. Maybe even invest in an alarm that would sound if the door got opened, in case Clarissa got it into her head to do this again.
When she was satisfied that her granddaughter wasn’t going to come back out of her room, she went downstairs. Jerry was already waiting for her outside.
“He was gone,” he told her. “Just like I thought he’d be. Was it the same kid you saw before?”
“To tell you the truth I don’t know.” She hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse of this guy. Could it have been Benjamin Roth? Well. It could have been Santa Claus for all she saw. “Sorry, Jerry.”
“Don’t be. It’s hard enough on police officers to make that sort of identification.”
“My eyesight is just fine when I’m wearing my glasses, thank you!”
“No,” he said, gently correcting her. “I meant that you aren’t trained to notice details or observe people. We do that sort of thing for a living and even we have trouble with it.”
“Oh. I see.” She felt foolish. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little worked up.”
“I’ll make sure this gets reported and that the guys at the station know to patrol through here at night. You aren’t exactly on a dead end street, but you aren’t in the heart of town either. Too easy for someone to sneak up on you here. And now that we can start looking into Julien’s death as a homicide, who knows what idiots will start hanging around.”
That certainly soured her mood. “Jerry, what am I going to do?”
“Well, you could always sell to Benjamin Roth.”
He said it so carefully, and yet she still wanted to smack him. “I will not sell my store, Jerry. That is not going to happen!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I just wanted to mention it. There wouldn’t be any shame in wanting to sell out now, you know.”
“There would be. For me, there would be.”
The moment stretched between them, and then suddenly he was taking her face in his hands, and his lips were brushing against hers.
The kiss was so gentle, so sweet, and yet it set her soul on fire all the way down to her toes. He was taller than she was, and he had to tilt her head up to kiss her, and under the stars like this it was just so incredibly perfect.
Or it would have been, if it wasn’t taking place where Julien had died. Other than that one little black thought, she’d never been kissed so perfectly before.
With a little breath, he ended the embrace, and let his hands drop away. “Some first date, huh? I’ll check in on you tomorrow, Cookie. Make sure your doors are locked, make sure your phone is by your bed. All right?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment. Little did he know, but this was actually the best date she’d been on in years.
Her feet were light as she went back up the stairs. Nothing could ruin this moment. Not Julien’s death, not Benjamin Roth and his pushy business offer, not the mayor or his wife’s unseemly reaction at the funeral parlor. Nothing.
When she stepped back inside her apartment, there was Clarissa, still dressed, sneaking her way to the door again.
Well, that could ruin the moment, sure enough.
“Clarissa!”
“What? I’m not doing anything wrong. I just wanted to go out!”
“That i
s out of the question.”
“Why not? You got to go out! I saw you down there, with that cop, kissing him!”
That stopped Cookie in her tracks. Was she being a hypocrite? Telling her granddaughter not to do something she was doing herself?
No. She had gone out with a friend. She was an adult. She knew this town. All of those were things that made it safe for her. She needed to look out for Clarissa’s safety. Unless and until they caught Julien’s murderer, Clarissa wasn’t going anywhere by herself. Especially at night!
Unfortunately, the teen had ideas of her own.
“I’m leaving,” she declared, heading for the apartment door.
Cream took as much offense to that as Cookie did. He popped his head up and began barking incessantly.
“Cream, shush,” Cookie said. “Clarissa, you get back in here.”
“I’m not in jail, Grandmother.”
“No, you are a guest in my house. You will follow my rules, thank you very much.”
“What are you going to do?”
Was that a challenge? She stood there with her hand on the doorknob, waiting to see what Cookie would say. Did she not realize that Cookie had already raised one daughter?
“What am I going to do? I’m going to ground you. Did you enjoy using my computer today? Using your phone all day long? Hmm? Because if you want to do things your own way then you can say goodbye to those luxuries.”
Clarissa gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“I most certainly would, and worse. You can’t have it both ways, Clarissa. If you think you’re old enough to make your own decisions without any care for what the adults in your life want for you, then you best get used to taking care of yourself. That means finding your own home to live in. That means finding a job. And, that means paying for your own cell phone. Who pays for it now, hmm?”
Her argument struck home. The girl’s lip began to quiver and her eyes darkened. This was a lesson every child had to learn for themselves if they wanted to grow up. They couldn’t expect to be given everything, and then not give anything in return.
With a huff, Clarissa let go of the door handle and then stomped off to her bedroom. “Not like I can go anywhere in this one horse town anyway.”