by Kym Roberts
I did as he asked and we flipped the table over and stood it up. It was beautiful.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice cracked and I laughed to cover it up. The top of the table matched the first one he’d made and was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. It seemed wrong for me to take so much from him, even if he was willing to give it.
“What about your wife—how does she feel about you spending so much time over here helping me out?” I asked.
He looked up at me as he was running his hand across the seam in the table I could barely see. “My wife left me three years ago.”
I cringed. Scarlet hadn’t told me that. Granted, I should have realized I’d yet to meet her or see her out in public, but still, it felt as if I was missing a lot of information about the people in town. Information I would have known had I stayed. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and snorted. “Don’t be. She hated football.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, she loved basketball,” he continued. “I’d like to blame it on being young and dumb like you and the mayor were, but we were older and took it one step further.”
I wanted to say he was wrong, Cade and I hadn’t been young and dumb, yet part of me saw some truth in his comment. The other part . . . well, I didn’t really want to listen to the other part.
“You didn’t say how court went,” he said.
I turned away and headed for the two boxes against the wall. “His bond was set for four hundred thousand. We’ve got a lot of work to do to raise the rest of the money. These tables will help tremendously.”
But a part of me didn’t think we ever could. I sighed and got to work. “I’m going to take a couple boxes of books over to the high school, so I won’t be opening the store right away.”
“Do you need some help?” Coach asked.
“If you could carry one downstairs for me that would be great.” I handed the top box to my angel in overalls and grabbed the second one for myself. We headed for the stairs, and as I took the first step, my shoe slipped off the back of my heel. I grabbed the railing and shifted the box but felt the cardboard give. The bottom of the box buckled and my attempt to reposition it only made it worse. Grabbing for the edges, I missed a flap and watched helplessly as all the dictionaries and encyclopedias spilled out. They tumbled all the way down to the bottom of the stairs.
When the last one thunked on the floor, Coach said, “That could be you down there if you’d tried to carry both of these boxes.”
I thought about that for a moment and couldn’t stop the image of Marlene flashing in my head. If I’d fallen, I would have ended up in a similar position.
“Come on. I’ll help you pick them up,” Coach said.
We made it down to the first floor and began stacking the books. Most of them looked okay, but a couple had been damaged during their rough descent.
“Are these all dictionaries and encyclopedias?” Coach asked.
“Yeah. Ms. Phelps wanted some for the English students to use. She’s tired of the kids only using definitions and information they find online. She thought it would do them good, and no one is going to buy them, so I told her we’d donate the lot to the school.” I started on my second stack.
Coach nodded. “Most of our kids don’t even know what an encyclopedia is.”
“It’s my contribution to the kids for helping with the store. Although I think they’d rather have pizza.” I put what I thought was the last book on the stack, then saw a folder on the ground over near the register.
Coached patted me on the arm. “Your daddy would be proud, Princess.”
“I hope I can make him proud.” I stood up, amazed to realize that I wanted to make him proud of not only my accomplishments but of me as a person.
Aware that Coach had worked up a sweat and was still helping me, I asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“A tall glass of water would be great.” Coach stood up, put his hands on his lower back, and moaned as he stretched.
I cringed at the noises his back made. “You got it. Coming right up.”
I went to the tearoom, got two glasses of ice and filled them with water from the tap before I returned to the coach, who was straightening the books in one of the boxes.
I walked over and picked up the clear plastic binder that had made its way behind the counter.
“Everything all right over there?” he asked.
“It’s fine. This folder must have come out of the box.” I held up the binder, which had the top edge chewed off, possibly by one of those rumored rats The Barn had, but more likely the damage was done by an armadillo. The title on the cover page, however, was still legible. I read it aloud: “The Socio-Economic Growth of Hazel Rock, Texas, and the Real Estate Market of 2016. Geez, does it get any more boring than that?”
I had lost interest at Socio-Economic, but I flipped it open anyway just in case the header wasn’t destroyed on all the pages. The title and the author’s name weren’t present on any of them. Princess had done a number on it.
“Princess, did you do this?” I asked.
She peeked out of her bed and looked at me as if she was wondering who else could have done it, then looked at Coach. My money was still on her.
Then I remembered Aubrey’s term paper. “Shoot, I bet this is it.”
“This is what?” Coach asked.
“This is the term paper Aubrey couldn’t find.” I looked up at Coach, glad that I could finally do something for someone else.
His face looked pale as he stared at the document in my hand.
“Coach, are you all right?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“You’re looking a little on the fish-belly white side of pale. Do you need to sit down?”
He ignored my question and held out his hand. “Let me see that.”
I handed the folder over. “Do you recognize it? Is it Aubrey’s?” I asked as I looked under the counter for a new box to put the books in.
Coach thumbed through the pages, so engrossed he failed to acknowledge my question. I cleared my throat and rephrased it.
“Do you know who it belongs to?” I asked while maneuvering an old adding machine and a paper cutter out of the way so I could pull out the last box I had.
“Can’t say as I do. But I’ll take it by the office at school when I leave here,” he offered.
“That’s not necessary. I’ll drop it off with the books.” I held out my hand, but he closed the binder and pulled it back out of my reach.
“It’s really no trouble.” Coach looked me straight in the eye, almost daring me to challenge him. Then he took a drink of his water. I didn’t know why, but something didn’t feel right.
Shaking it off, I told Coach, “You worry about your players. I have to go to the office anyway. It makes more sense that I drop it off. If it’s Aubrey’s paper, it’s due today. The last thing Princess and I need to be responsible for is Aubrey failing English.”
I reached out and grabbed hold of the folder, but Coach wouldn’t let go. We had a moment of tugging back and forth before our eyes met.
“Coach?”
“I can’t let you take it, Charli.”
“Aubrey may need this. Or what if it belongs to one of your players?” I thought that would make him understand the expediency.
“Why would you think it belonged to one of my players?” Coach set down his glass of water.
“They were in the loft complaining about their papers . . .” That’s when it hit me. That little nudge I’d felt when I brought back our drinks. “You’re drinking the water,” I said.
“So?” He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly and that nudge started growing into a push.
I let go of the folder. It wasn’t worth that look in his eyes. “When did you find out the water was okay to drink?” I asked.
“It’s never been bad,” he answered.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say something? You wer
e here and told us to go out and buy more water—” Then I realized Reba Sue may have told Cade, but it was Coach who’d brought up the need for bottled water while everyone was at The Barn. “You’re the one who started talking about the well water. Why wouldn’t you just tell everyone it was okay to drink?”
He shook his head, rolled the plastic binder containing the term paper up, and put it in the back pocket of his overalls. “Charli, Charli, Charli. People trust me. So if I tell Reba Sue the water is bad, I certainly can’t turn around and tell everyone else it’s good.”
“Why would you tell her or anyone else the water at The Barn was bad in the first place?” I was at a complete loss.
“Because Reba Sue can’t help herself. She likes to gossip. Now, be grateful for what I’ve done for you.” He waved his arm out, encompassing the entire Barn. He’d transformed it—twice, the second time completely free of charge. “Leave it be,” Coach said and turned to walk away.
I’d never been able to hold my tongue. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it now either. “You hurt our reputation. I haven’t been able to serve anything out of the tearoom because of the rumor you started.” I stopped and thought about the other rumor. “Did you tell everyone we had a rat problem too?”
Coach froze for a moment and then he turned around and stalked toward me.
“I’ve always thought you had half a brain,” he said.
“I’ve got a full brain,” I retorted, secretly reaching for the Taser under the counter.
He cocked his head. He didn’t believe me. Fine. I don’t know why I asked the next question, but I did. “You killed Marlene, didn’t you?”
He laughed. I was getting tired of men laughing at my ideas and wanted to tase him just for the heck of it. Instead, I took a step back, the Taser hidden from his view as he reached the counter.
“Why?” I asked.
“You of all people should know that when someone gets in the way of the game you take them out of the picture.” Coach pulled the hammer from his utility belt and swung it at my head.
I screeched. A man I trusted—who’d helped repair my shop and donated countless hours all out of the goodness of his heart—was trying to kill me.
“Coach, we’re friends. You’ve been helping me—” I ducked again as he swung the hammer like a backhand in tennis. He nearly knocked himself over with the force behind his miss.
“I helped you because I needed time to find this paper. If you hadn’t had so damned many customers, I wouldn’t have had to work so hard.” He grunted and swung again, catching the light above the register before bringing the hammer down to crash into my mom’s antique register. “Yet no matter how many rumors I started, the customers kept coming!”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head with disbelief as the drawer exploded. Coins spilled over the floor. “But you’ve done so much!”
“And I asked for one tiny little favor in return.” He pulled back his weapon, catching several register keys and yanking them from the brass machine.
“What do you want from me?” I screamed.
“You’re just like her. No matter how I phrase it, you’re too stupid to let it go.” The hammer connected with the wooden counter with a deadly thud. His glass of water shattered on the floor.
It was my window to escape. I ran from behind the counter but forgot the stack of books. I tripped and fell, sprawling across the wet concrete. I rolled over and aimed the stun gun, but then realized I was soaking wet. Could I electrocute myself? There was water all around me. My dress and hands were soaked. I wasn’t quite desperate enough to try it. Yet.
Coach was breathing heavily, his face red with rage.
“Why do you want that term paper so badly?” I asked as I scooted backward, trying to distract him as I made my way to the stairs.
“It’s the whole reason I had to kill Marlene!” he bellowed, and I couldn’t help it, I hoped he’d give himself a heart attack.
“Why would you kill her over Aubrey’s chewed-up term paper?” I scooted up the second step of the stairs, aiming the gun at him but realizing the first step had water on it from my clothing.
“It’s not Aubrey’s paper. It’s Darrin’s, and Marlene knew it was plagiarized.” His next sentence came out with a grunt. “She threatened to expose my boy.”
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about and I honestly didn’t care. His reasoning for murder seemed insane. “Why would she care?”
“Because with the sale of The Barn to Country Mart, she could show this town she was better for it than the Calloways ever were. She’d regain the business they lost.”
“What?”
Coach laughed, the noise sounding manic instead of humorous. “You didn’t know? Country Mart was going to turn The Barn into a mini Country Mart. Cade was against it. Marlene told me if I didn’t turn my back on Cade and openly support her in the next mayoral race, she would expose Darrin and ruin his career.”
I knew Coach was loyal to his players, but to kill for a mayoral race or the college career of a kid who’d cheated? Who would do that? Coach continued to advance with the hammer in the air, sanity completely missing from his expression. I tried to stall his pursuit. “How did the paper get here?”
“Dumb kid left it inside a book he brought to the bookstore and Marlene found it.”
“So you killed her for your player’s paper?”
“I killed her for being unreasonable. All she had to do was give me that damned paper.”
“She didn’t have the paper,” Aubrey said from the side door.
Neither one of us had noticed the young girl walk in. Coach growled, thoroughly ticked off that another person had inserted their presence into the whole mess.
“What do you mean, she didn’t have the paper? Of course she did. She said she did!” Coach yelled.
But Aubrey just shook her head. “I found it and hid it in the box of dictionaries. I told Marlene about it but wouldn’t give it to her. I was scared and didn’t know what to do. Darrin said he was sorry. . . .” A tear ran down Aubrey’s face. “I helped him write a new paper. I had no idea . . . I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, but I think it’s time you leave,” I told her.
“She’s not going anywhere!” Coach screamed, his complexion nearing purple.
“Why do you care about Darrin’s future so much?” I asked as I flipped the safety off the stun gun.
Aubrey answered for him. “He asked me to push Darrin to go to the University of East Texas. The sports director offered Coach the head coaching position if he brought Darrin there.” Her face nearly crumpled with guilt. “I pushed Darrin to East Texas because it would keep him close to home.” Another tear ran down her face.
I knew her tears well. Knew what it was like to love and lose over a game of football. Even Coach was beginning to understand how bad a loss could feel—and he was willing to kill to turn it around.
“And I thought you understood the importance of the game.” He sneered at Aubrey. Coach made his move, but it wasn’t toward me, and I made mine.
Before he could take his second step in Aubrey’s direction, I aimed the little red dot of the laser light in the middle of his chest and pulled the trigger. The prongs flew out of the front of the weapon with surprising speed and struck Coach just above his overalls. His eyes rounded, and for a moment I thought it hadn’t worked.
Then I heard the charge entering his body, but he didn’t move. He stood frozen with the hammer held above his head, his eyes moving between me and Aubrey at top speed.
Coach began to scream.
Really scream—high-pitched and warbling. It was worse than a birthday party filled with a bunch of ten-year-old girls. It hurt my ears. Made me think twice about using the Taser and then, God forbid, wondered if a prong had struck him . . . in his manhood.
I wasn’t removing that prong.
“Run!” I yelled at the young girl, who seemed as frozen as Coach. She didn’t hesitate. Aubrey ran
out the door. For a moment I panicked that she wouldn’t get help and Coach would turn on me and kill me where I stood.
Instead, he fell over like a tree.
My mind yelled, Timber! I grimaced as he hit the concrete floor. The hammer bounced out of his reach and I couldn’t have been happier. He shook and continued to scream, finally making words out of the noise.
“STTTTT . . . . OOOOOOPPPPPPPPPP!”
I let go of the trigger. And heard him take a deep breath.
So far so good. He started to sit up.
“Don’t you move!” I bellowed. Coach ignored me and I zapped him again.
This time his screaming bounced off the rafters, and I wondered if I’d somehow increased the voltage. Was I killing him? Did it matter?
I wasn’t sure what the answer was to either of those questions, so I let go of the trigger. “You move and I’ll hit you again!”
Despite my warning, Coach lumbered toward me and I tased him again as Mateo ran through the door. I think Coach was mighty happy to see him.
Chapter Thirty-one
My statement to Detective Youngblood was completely different this time. Although I expected to be escorted to the interrogation room, where I’d be read my Miranda rights for literally tasing the crap out of Coach, we avoided that sterile environment completely. Instead, we went straight to his cubicle and chatted like old friends. We talked about family, and when I asked about the photo on his desk of the woman surrounded by five kids, he beamed with pride. His wife of ten years had been his childhood sweetheart.
The way he opened up kind of surprised me, and when he offered a snack from his cookie jar, I was too afraid not to accept, lest I jinx my new friendship.
I ate two of his wife’s gourmet oatmeal cranberry cookies, which were sweetened with chunks of white chocolate, and accepted a soda over a cup of coffee. I figured I may as well take them while I could, just in case I ended up on the other side of the jail doors once again. I even used the restroom in anticipation of my interview going south. But it was all for naught.
When I asked if the sheriff would be joining us, Detective Youngblood advised that Coach refused to talk to anyone but Mateo, so I probably wouldn’t see the sheriff for the rest of the day.