“Remember all those romantic gifts Rick used to give me?” I beat my brownie batter vigorously, more vigorously than brownies should be beaten. “Those men don’t understand that a few gifts do not make up for how they act.”
She set a big bowl of yeast dough in front of me. “Beat on this before you ruin those brownies.”
“Speaking of that blasted butterfly, Trent wants it. Good thing because I can’t stand having it around if that jerk touched it.”
I handed my whisk to Paula and strode into the main room of the restaurant. The butterfly sat quietly on the top shelf of the display case all alone, no cookies to keep it company. Even in the semi-darkness, the crystal wings sparkled. It was pretty even if it was contaminated. It was an inanimate object. Not its fault that a psycho bought it.
Even with all that logic, I still didn’t want to touch something Grady Mathis or whoever my stalker was had touched. Butterflies are free and so are we. Yuck!
I picked it up using a napkin, took it to the kitchen and set it on top of the refrigerator between my car keys and Paula’s so I wouldn’t forget it when I left.
***
Breakfast was painful. I couldn’t find my rhythm, couldn’t get into the zone.
If Grady was my stalker, Trent would put the fear of God and the Pleasant Grove Police Department in him, and that should effectively end the poems, gifts and visits to my house in the middle of the night.
But what if he wasn’t?
It could be anyone. The tall man who refused to look me in the eye when he placed his order. The short man who looked me in the eye too long. The skinny man with crossed eyes who might or might not have looked me in the eye.
I poured a cup and a half of coffee for a woman because I was paying more attention to the man at the next table who was writing on his laptop. What was he writing? Was he taking pictures?
Fortunately the coffee didn’t spill on the woman, just on the table. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another cup and be right back to clean that up.”
A man at the counter turned as I approached. He had beady, close set eyes.
“Lindsay—”
He knew my name!
“Can I have another cup of Earl Grey?”
Would a stalker drink Earl Grey tea?
I cleaned up the spilled coffee, took the woman another cup, and gave beady eyes hot water and a tea bag.
I tried to pay attention to what I was doing, tried not to be paranoid. However, considering someone was stalking me, spying on me, invading my privacy, paranoia seemed appropriate.
I picked up a fresh pot of coffee. The man walking in the door looked familiar. Tall, dark and handsome, wearing a business suit and an intense expression. Where had I seen him before? Walking down my street? Eating chocolate in my restaurant? Skulking around my house?
Actually, none of those places. The man bore a striking resemblance to Jim Caviezel on Person of Interest.
Someone touched my arm. I gasped and almost dropped the coffee pot.
“Why don’t you focus on cooking for a while and let me take care of the front room?” Paula asked quietly. “You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine. I’m not going to allow myself to get upset by some cowardly jerk who sneaks around in the middle of the night and doesn’t have the guts to face me.”
“I don’t blame you.”
A woman took a seat at a corner table. Her head was down as if she was studying the empty white mug on the table. “Excuse me. I see someone who needs caffeine.”
“You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
I strode over to the newcomer’s table. “Good morning. Can I start you out with a cup of coffee?”
She looked up. It took me a couple of moments to recognize Tina. Both eyes were black, her mouth and cheeks were swollen, and her nose was crooked.
“Holy—!” I bit back the exclamation since there were other customers around who might not appreciate swear words with their breakfast. “Tina? What happened?”
Her unsuccessful attempt to smile lifted one corner of her swollen lips and looked macabre. “You know what happened.”
“Well, yes, but shouldn’t you be in a hospital or somewhere other than a chocolate shop?”
Tears filled her blood-shot eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go. I took the kids to school, went back home and threw a few clothes and toys in the car, then came here. My sister’s scared of Ken. She says I can’t stay with her. You’re so brave, I thought maybe you could help me. You gave me the courage to leave him.”
Brave? I’ve been called a lot of things, some of them not very flattering, but that was the first time I’d ever been called brave. My actions that morning, jumping out of my skin every time a new customer came in, certainly disproved Tina’s assumption.
“Uh, okay, sure. What can I do to help?” Please don’t ask me to let you and your three kids stay with me!
“If I just had a place to stay for a few days until I can find an apartment and get a job, that would help so much.”
“There’s a Motel 6 not far from here. I understand it’s inexpensive but clean and comfortable.”
She nodded and tried that strange smile again then looked down at the table. “Could I have a cup of coffee?”
I set the thick white cup upright in its saucer and poured coffee into it.
If she wanted to go to a motel, she wouldn’t have come to you. She probably doesn’t have the money to pay for even a few nights.
But she has three kids!
Three kids that have to eat.
Three kids!
And motel rooms are very small.
I didn’t realize I’d spoken the last thought aloud until Tina said, “We’ll be fine at a motel for a few days. I just need to find a place that will let me have all three boys in one room. They’re too young to stay by themselves.”
“My house is tiny.” I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. Why did I bring up my house?
“We’ll be fine,” she repeated.
“My boyfriend’s a cop. He probably knows about shelters for abused women where you could stay until you get on your feet.”
She still didn’t manage much of a smile, but I could see the relieved look in her eyes. “That would be wonderful.”
Yes, by that point we all knew Tina and her three sons would be staying at my house for a few days, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. “How about a hot, gooey cinnamon roll?”
“I’d really like that. I haven’t eaten much lately. My stomach’s been tied in knots.”
“Coming right up.”
I went to the kitchen, took my cell phone out of my pocket and called Trent. When he didn’t answer, I called Fred. “Can you find me a shelter for abused women?”
“Yes, I can do that. Has Henry been abusing you? I knew that relationship would never work.”
“Ha ha. It isn’t for me. Remember Tina, Kenneth Wilson’s wife? Remember that beating you saw with your hidden camera? I’ve just seen the results. She’s left him.”
“Good for her. I have to give her credit. I didn’t think she had the courage to do that.”
“Yeah, about that. She says I gave her the courage to leave.”
“So now you feel responsible for her.”
“No, I don’t.”
He remained silent.
I sighed. “I guess I sort of do. You said yourself our visit probably made things worse for her. Find me a shelter that will take her and her three kids. Please! I’ll make you an endless supply of chocolate chip cookies.”
“You already do that. I’ll get back to you when I find something.”
He hung up.
Fred never feels the necessity to say good-bye. He considers it a waste of time.
I took a cinnamon roll to Tina. “Hang tight. You’ll have a place to stay before lunch.”
Sometimes I have been known to lie.
When the lunch crowd started coming in, my alert ramped to bright red as I studied each man who
came in, trying to determine if he was a potential stalker or Tina’s abusive husband.
Fred called back shortly after noon. “I’ve found a shelter that will take Tina and her boys.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and went to the kitchen so I could take the call in private. “Thank goodness! Where is it?”
“They will only give the address to Tina. She has to call them and get directions.” He gave me a phone number. I flipped over a business card and wrote the number on it.
“There is a problem, however. They don’t have room for them until Sunday.”
“Sunday? That’s two days away.” My voice rose to a high-pitched squeak.
Paula looked up from making a sandwich.
“They can stay in a motel room for two days.” Fred didn’t have kids. Of course he saw no problem with that scenario.
“No. Find somewhere that can take them now.”
“Lindsay, shelters for abused women aren’t as commonplace as motels, and they don’t have a lot of vacancies. This shelter has a woman and two kids moving out on Saturday, so they’ll get Tina in Sunday. That’s the best deal I could come up with.”
If Fred said it was the best deal, it was the best deal.
Damn!
“What’s wrong?” Paula asked.
I slipped my phone back into my jeans pocket. “We can’t get Tina and the boys into a shelter until Sunday. There’s no space for them.”
Paula’s gaze locked on mine. “We can’t send her back to that man.” Her voice was soft, low and urgent.
“Of course not. She can stay in a motel. If she doesn’t have the money, I’ll pay for it.”
Paula’s shoulders straightened rigidly and her features took on a determined expression. “She doesn’t need to be alone in some cramped, anonymous motel room. She can stay at my house.”
If not for the skin around my face, my jaw would have dropped to the floor. “Excuse me? Miss Privacy is inviting a stranger and her three kids to stay in your house?”
“I was a stranger to you, but you helped Zach and me. I don’t know if I could have done it without you. The least I can do is pass it on and help another woman and her children.”
Paula would do it, take four strangers into her home, but she’d be a nervous wreck. She’s come a long way the last couple of years. When I first met her, she grabbed Zach and headed for the safe room when the Avon lady rang the doorbell. Okay, she doesn’t have a safe room, but if she had one, she’d have hidden in it for most of that first year.
These days she answers the door when the UPS man comes and even has a male friend (she won’t let me call him her boyfriend) who spends time with her. Nevertheless, I was quite certain she wasn’t ready for four strangers invading her home for two nights.
I threw up my hands. “Oh, for crying out loud. I’ll do it! They can stay at my house. If I survived Rick’s mother, his brothers, his ex and his son, I can surely survive Tina and her—” I gulped— “three sons.”
Don’t get me wrong. I like kids. Well, some kids. I adore Zach. Rick’s son, Rickie—not so much. I don’t dislike him, but I fervently hope he never comes to stay with me again. I had no idea what Tina’s boys were like, but the sheer number of them was intimidating.
“You don’t need to do that,” Paula said. “I’m okay with letting her stay with Zach and me.” She wasn’t. I could tell from the determined, terrified look in her eyes.
“We don’t have time to argue. We have customers out there who are on the verge of withdrawal from lack of chocolate. Tina’s staying with me, and that’s that.”
I turned on my heel before she could protest and went back to the main room of the restaurant to save all those chocoholics.
The restaurant was packed when Grady Mathis burst in.
The crimson color of his broad face, his narrowed eyes and his grim expression told me Trent had talked to him, but not sternly enough.
He came straight to the cash register where I stood checking out a customer. I refused to let him rattle me though my hand shook slightly as I ran the credit card through the machine.
“Your boyfriend paid me a visit,” he bellowed.
The lady whose credit card I held jumped and turned to look at him. A loud silence spread over the room. All conversation and all eating halted in mid-word and mid-bite.
I handed the slip and a pen to the customer and didn’t acknowledge Grady’s presence. She signed hurriedly and left rapidly.
“I think you should leave,” I said quietly.
“Oh, is that right? First some cop tries to tell me what to do and now it’s you?” He moved closer to the register and slammed his hand on the counter. “You are one crazy bitch!”
I slid my cell phone from my pocket and hit Trent’s speed dial.
Grady grabbed the phone out of my hands, slammed it to the floor and stomped on it then pointed a thick finger at me. “I never done nothing to you! You used me to make that wimpy boyfriend of yours jealous!”
I really hate somebody pointing at me. I grabbed his finger and pushed it up and back.
He screamed, yelled a few words I won’t repeat, and withdrew his finger. Mission accomplished.
“Get out of my place.” I was surprised my voice came out so calm. I didn’t feel calm. I felt angry and scared and…did I mention…angry?
“You think you’re so high and mighty, well, let me tell you something, bitch, you’re in for a takedown. I tried to be nice to you and then you went and lied on me! You tell that boyfriend of yours he better back off or he’ll be sorry! You don’t know who you’re dealing with, lady.”
I grabbed a fork off the counter and thrust it at him. “Get out! Now!”
He laughed, an ugly sound that seemed to come from the oily depths of a sewage dump.
“Lindsay asked you to leave.” Paula was suddenly beside me, an industrial size rolling pin clutched in both hands.
Her appearance at my side didn’t surprise me, but I was shocked when Tina came up beside Grady. Her bruises stood out from her pale face like dark beacons, and her hand trembled when she held up a cell phone. “I called 911.” I could hear the terror in her voice. She was probably having flashbacks of Ken, but she stood her ground. “The police are on their way.” Her last words came out in a whisper.
Grady snarled and shoved Tina aside. “I’m going because I can’t stand to be in the same room as you, but this isn’t over.”
He strode toward the door.
“It certainly isn’t!” I shouted after him. “You’re going to pay for my cell phone!”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time the cops arrived, most of our customers were long gone. As soon as Grady stomped out the door, people began pushing and shoving to pay. Several left without ordering dessert. Those poor folks would spend the rest of the day longing for chocolate. Some might even see imaginary chocolate chips when the CDTs (Chocolate Delirium Tremens) kicked in. I wasn’t the only one that jerk harmed.
I didn’t recognize either of the officers who responded to Tina’s 911 call, but I felt certain they knew Trent. It was a small department. He’d soon hear all about this latest catastrophe. I made it a point to remain calm and dignified in front of them and not mention traffic tickets.
They took statements from me, Paula, Tina and the three customers who remained. I comped the meals for those customers and sent them on their way with extra cookies and brownies. Since Grady had run off so many people before they got a chance to have dessert, I had plenty extra.
The officers left with our statements, my smashed cell phone, and a few cookies. Paula returned to the kitchen, Tina returned to her corner table, and Brandon rushed in the door, eyes wide, face pale. His black eye was fading but still vivid.
He ran to where I stood behind the counter and leaned toward me. “Are you all right? The cops wouldn’t let me come in. They said it was a crime scene!”
How could Trent have even considered the possibility that this man was involved in some sort
of conspiracy with his father? He was as much an innocent victim as I was.
“Your father came in here and made a scene.”
He sank onto a stool, held his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”
I did not want to hear that. Had Trent been right after all? “Why would you say it’s your fault? Your father’s nuts.” I bit my tongue. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone that far. After all, this was his son. “I mean, he’s…um…he has a really bad temper.”
Brandon lifted his head and smiled. Actually, it was more of a grimace. “Right on both counts. It’s my fault because I took you to the shop and introduced you to him.”
A chill shot down my spine. “Did he ask you to bring me to the shop?”
Brandon looked genuinely confused. “What? No. I hit your car and offered to fix it for you. Remember?”
“Of course I remember. I just…” I shrugged. “I guess I was looking for an explanation for what your dad did, an explanation for something that doesn’t make sense.”
Brandon compressed his lips and shook his head. “My dad does a lot of things that don’t make sense. He thinks every woman he meets wants to be with him. He cheated on my mother when she was alive, and now that she’s dead…” He shrugged and dropped his gaze to the countertop. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “But I have to tell you, I’m going to press charges. He destroyed my phone, scared my customers and upset my friends.”
“Good. You should press charges. He needs to pay for what he’s done.” He rose from the stool. “I think I’ll skip lunch today. I have some things I have to do.”
I laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Please don’t confront him. I know you’re bigger than he is, but he’s mean. He could hurt you.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Believe me, I know that. And I know what I have to do.”
I held his arm more tightly. “What is it you have to do?”
He looked down at my hand then back up at me. His smile became almost real. “I’m going to get a place to live. Just like you said I should.”
“Good for you! I’m so proud of you!” I released his arm and gave his hand a squeeze. “Let me make you a sandwich to go.”
Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5) Page 13