Bench Trial in the Backwoods

by Maggie Wells

  She trailed off as the woman yanked her receipt from the machine and pushed it across the counter.

  “Yes, well, this one works fine, and when I need a new one, I’ll get a new one. Thank you. Have a nice day,” the woman responded curtly.

  She leaned to her left and peered at the customer behind Alicia in case she hadn’t gotten the hint. Alicia stepped away, and the woman behind the counter smiled so broadly it transformed her entire face. “Good morning, Carolee. I wasn’t expecting to see you in here. What can I do for you today?”

  Taking her cup and to-go bag, Alicia moved to an open table nestled against the far wall. From there, she watched people come and go from the busy bakery.

  Almost everyone stopped to chat with at least one or two people on the way in or out. The place seemed to be humming. High on the exchange of information as much as the sugar, she suspected. Unfortunately, the mishmash of soft-spoken Southern accents made it hard to pick out any particular tidbits.

  She took a sulky sip of her coffee and tore the corner of her croissant into bite-size pieces, arranging them on top of the sheet of wax paper it came wrapped in. She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman who’d taken her order. She was speaking to an immaculately dressed blonde woman who looked like she’d never touched a doughnut in her life.

  Alicia popped a bite of buttery pastry into her mouth and tried to pick apart the sudden surge of resentment she felt as she watched the easy exchange between the two women. She slumped lower in her seat and watched them through narrowed eyes when a familiar voice interrupted her ruminations.

  “Hello, Alicia.”

  Sitting up straighter, she jerked her head up to find Marlee Masters beaming down at her.

  “Ben told me you were back in town.”

  Alicia dropped the hunk of croissant she was smashing between her thumb and forefinger and quickly wiped her hand on a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table. “Oh, yes. Hello. Nice to see you again.”

  Marlee’s smile widened as she waved to someone across the room. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from her.

  “Please.”

  “I snuck away from the office. I swear, some days it’s a meeting about a meeting about when to schedule a meeting to have a meeting,” she said with a laugh. She nodded her head toward the woman at the counter. “Over there’s my mama. Carolee Masters,” she added. “She wanted to come down here to order some pastries for bridge club, and had gone by the house to talk to Daddy, so I volunteered to be her chauffeur.”

  “I thought you said you were in meetings,” Alicia pointed out.

  Marlee shook her head. “No, I said today was all about meetings, but I didn’t say I was participating in them. One of the perks as boss.”

  She said the last with such an engaging smile, Alicia couldn’t help reciprocating. “It must be nice.”

  “I’ll go back after I drop Mom off again,” Marlee said, waving her hand dismissively. “But in the meantime—” She looked up and, as if on cue, the woman who had waited on Alicia so brusquely a few minutes before appeared beside the table.

  She held a large cup and saucer, and a plate with what appeared to be a breakfast sandwich made out of a fluffy biscuit. “There you go, Miss Marlee,” the woman practically cooed.

  Marlee gazed openmouthed at the food.

  “Thank you so much, Miss Camille. This is a treat.”

  “I made it with egg whites like your mama likes, so you don’t have to feel guilty about anything.”

  “Thank you for looking out for me.” Marlee managed to say the last bit without even a hint of sarcasm.

  Alicia found herself staring at Marlee in shock. Wasn’t she insulted about the implication of watching her weight? Apparently not.

  Marlee simply smiled. “I’ll see you at Tuesday night’s Slim Session?” she asked, her voice sweet as honey.

  The woman called Miss Camille pulled a face and blushed. “I suppose I should come, but I have to tell you my weigh-in won’t be any good. I’ve been sampling more of the wares than I should lately.”

  Marlee shook her head. “You know it’s not all about what the scale says—it’s about how we feel. If you’d like to attend, and you need support, we’ll be there for you.”

  When the other woman walked away, Alicia looked at Marlee agog.

  “Slim Sessions?”

  Marlee chuckled. “The name is kind of a holdover from my mom’s days, and we don’t do the whole diet thing like they used to do where they eat nothing but a couple leaves of lettuce. I’m trying to help it to evolve into something more...holistic. Diet, exercise and generally what we’re doing to make ourselves feel good these days. More of an all-around support group, I guess.” She frowned as she picked up the layered breakfast biscuit. “We really do need to think of a better name,” she murmured before taking a hefty bite.

  “At least you got a plate,” Alicia pointed out, gesturing from her crushed bag and wax-paper place mat to Marlee’s plate, cup and saucer.

  “Oh.” Marlee’s brows knit as she chewed, eyeing the bag and paper cup. “I think Mrs. Brewster assumes people who are not from here are passing through.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’d tell you not to take it personally, but in truth, I think she means it to be personal.”

  Marlee’s candor made Alicia laugh out loud. The sound drew the attention of the few people seated around them, but Alicia didn’t care. There were worse things than being seen laughing and enjoying breakfast with the town’s biggest mogul.

  “I was hoping to put my ear to the ground and pick up some gossip while I was here, but it doesn’t look like I’ll have much luck,” Alicia said, wrinkling her nose.

  Marlee chewed thoughtfully, then took a sip from the enormous mug. “Small towns can be tough to crack.”

  “An understatement,” Alicia said wryly.

  “No doubt.” Marlee chuckled. “But I understand why people are wary. Pine Bluff is small, but we’ve had a lot of trouble in the past few years. More trouble than any town this size should. Right now, people are stuck in some kind of nostalgia loop.” She set her biscuit back down and pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser to wipe her fingers. “There’s a whole contingent of them who think we were living in a damn Norman Rockwell painting before all this ‘trouble,’” she said, using air quotes, “came to town. But I grew up here, and I can tell you this was no paradise before.”

  “This is Georgia, not Utopia,” Alicia said with a nod.

  “Exactly. Ben tells me you’re looking into drawing some connection between the group who was after him in Atlanta and whoever’s doing these things to Harry,” Marlee said, lacing her fingers together and leaning in as she spoke softly. “I want you to know I will help in whatever way I can.”

  Alicia was smart enough to know this was no small offer. Marlee was a Masters of Masters County. She ran the timber company founded by her great-great-grandfather. The company was the largest employer in the area, which made Marlee a powerful woman. If she pledged her support, it wasn’t a token gesture.

  “I appreciate the offer,” Alicia said sincerely. “And I want you to know I always thought Ben had been treated very unfairly by the agency. They should have done more for him. They should’ve found a way to protect their own.”

  Marlee nodded. “I agree. But I’m also glad they didn’t, otherwise he never would’ve landed here.”

  “Things have a way of working out, regardless of what we plan,” Alicia said, almost to herself.

  “They do indeed.” Marlee sat up straight again, picked up her sandwich and bit into it. “Oh!” she said through stuffed cheeks. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she continued to speak. “Sorry. I was thinking we need Lori. Lori will help,” she said, her voice garbled.

  “I’ll take any help I can get, but why wouldn’t people talk to Lori? She’s from here too,” sh
e pointed out.

  Marlee nodded vigorously as she chewed, then swallowed hard. With another slurp of her latte, she swiped the napkin from her lap and wiped her mouth. “But she’s the law. Some people get hung up on the badge.”

  “I see.” Alicia popped another bite of croissant into her mouth and chewed slowly. If some locals wouldn’t talk around Lori because she was a cop, then surely others would clam up around Marlee since she likely held the keys to their livelihoods, but maybe between the three of them...

  Marlee wiped her mouth again, then nodded. “Don’t you worry. Between Lori and me, you’ll have an in about anywhere you want around here. And between the three of us, surely we can hear something.”

  “You read my mind.” Marlee laughed, but Alicia was not entirely convinced. “What makes you think we can get any further than Ben has gotten?”

  Marlee snorted. “Listen, I love the man, so I’m admittedly not the most objective person when it comes to him, but I can tell you this—people like Ben, but he’s an outsider.” She shrugged. “They might start letting him in here and there, but he’s never going to have the network of information someone who is born and raised here would have. Heck, even Mike Schaeffer has an advantage on him,” she said, referring to one of Ben’s deputies.

  “I see,” she repeated.

  “Don’t worry—he knows it,” Marlee said, picking a bit of the biscuit off and lobbing it into her mouth. “I like to tease him and say he keeps me around because I’m his golden ticket.”

  Alicia eyed the radiant blonde seated across from her and laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not why he keeps you around. I’ve never seen a man more smitten.”

  A peachy blush colored Marlee’s cheeks. “Well, the feeling is entirely mutual, in case you were wondering,” she said with a pointed look.

  “I wasn’t wondering. It’s crystal clear.”

  “Marlee, honey,” her mother called from across the room. “Come on—I need to get back to your daddy.”

  Marlee glanced mournfully down at the remainder of the breakfast biscuit and tossed her paper napkin on the table. “Coming, Mama.” She rose, lifting her coffee cup in one fluid motion. “Let me get a to-go cup for my latte.”

  Carolee Masters shook her head when she spotted her daughter’s abandoned plate. “Marlee, you know how it is with biscuits—two minutes on the lips and forever on the hips.”

  “Well, now, Mama, you know we don’t think about food in those terms anymore,” Marlee said with a toss of her golden hair. “Food is fuel. It’s all about making the right choices at the right time. And I can tell you at this very moment my belly was craving a biscuit, and I am not gonna apologize to my hips.”

  Alicia fought the urge to applaud. She watched as Marlee sashayed up to the counter and handed over her unfinished coffee to be poured into a paper cup. When her mother approached, Marlee leaned in and kissed her cheek. Clearly there were no hard feelings generated by their exchange.

  Alicia watched heads swivel as the Masters women made their way to the door, calling out goodbyes and wishing various people nice days and asking to be remembered to other people as they passed.

  When the bell above the door jingled, she stared down at the remnants of the bacon-and-egg biscuit. Probably what she should have ordered. She was pregnant. She needed to start eating like a grown-up, not a teenager, she admonished herself. More protein. Maybe some leafy greens, she thought, barely suppressing a shudder.

  Miss Camille appeared at her table to clear Marlee’s place. “Can I get you a top-off on your coffee, sugar?” she asked in a markedly friendlier manner.

  Alicia glanced down at the plastic dome of the coffee cup and figured more decaf couldn’t hurt. “Yes, please. I’m drinking decaf.”

  “Be right back,” Camille Brewster replied. Then she bustled away.

  Alicia managed a couple more bites of croissant and a sip of her now lukewarm coffee. Even though the coffee tasted the same as regular, she missed the kick of caffeine. The combination of a lack of stimulant and what the doctor termed early-pregnancy exhaustion was going to be crippling.

  Ms. Brewster startled her from her thoughts when she placed the cup and saucer down on the table with a clatter. Alicia stared, her eyes fixed on the heavy porcelain cup. “Thank you,” she managed. “What do I owe you?”

  The older woman simply shook her head. “Refills are on the house.”

  Alicia watched in astonishment as the woman who’d barely acknowledged her a short time before made her way back to the counter.

  Determined to make a good impression, Alicia cleaned up scraps of her croissant and brushed every last crumb into the bag she’d revived. All in all, not a bad trip to the bakery, even if she didn’t overhear anything about Harry’s tormentors. She was more than happy to take advantage of Marlee’s generous offer to help her break through some of the small-town barriers, but would also take heed not to be fooled into thinking she belonged because people didn’t treat her like a stranger. Marlee’s words about Ben and his ability to fit into Pine Bluff society resonated with her.

  As a military kid, Alicia had been an outsider her entire life, moving from post to post, never making deep, decades-long friendships. Having gone through life without forming attachments had served her well when she went to work for the agency. She hadn’t always been partnered with the most forward-thinking people, nor had some of her bosses been as enthusiastic about having her in their ranks as one would hope. Bronson was a good example. But she’d survived others like him, and she would figure out a way to carry on. She would be the one in control of her destiny with the agency.

  She sipped until she’d depleted the second cup of coffee. When she was done, she gathered the paper goods as well as her cup and saucer and carried them back to the counter.

  “Oh, let me get those,” Camille said, snatching the bag from Alicia’s hand, looking slightly abashed. She put the cup and saucer into a black tub behind her. “Everything okay, I hope?”

  “Everything was delicious, thank you.” Alicia hesitated for a moment, then decided if she was going to make a go of her time here in Pine Bluff, she needed to go all in. “Mrs. Brewster, I don’t suppose you could tell me what it is Harry Hayes prefers or how he takes his coffee?”

  Camille Brewster’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Harry Hayes?”

  Alicia nodded and did her best to look bashful. She wasn’t sure if she was pulling it off, given the look of consternation on Mrs. Brewster’s face. “Yes. You see, I’m staying with him and I’d like to take him something at the office, but I wasn’t sure what he prefers.”

  “Staying with him?” Camille Brewster repeated.

  Alicia fought the urge to smile. She knew the information would go out on the wire before the door closed behind her. “Yes.”

  The confirmation seemed to snap the other woman from her trance. “Oh, well, Harry doesn’t like anything particularly fancy. A doughnut every once in a while. Glazed or twist, usually, but sometimes he goes for the cream-filled.”

  “Great. I’ll take one of each. And a coffee,” she added. “Whatever he usually orders.”

  The woman looked at her blankly for a moment. “Coffee? Harry doesn’t drink coffee.”

  Alicia gaped at the woman, struck silent for a moment. “Doesn’t drink coffee?”

  The other woman laughed. “I know, right?” She shook her head. “Occasionally, he’ll buy a bottle of orange juice, but mostly I think he sticks to water.”

  Alicia goggled at the woman. “No caffeine at all?”

  Camille Brewster’s lips drew tight, and for a moment Alicia thought she might’ve stepped over the line, but then she shook her head in bewildered dismay. “No. None. I honestly don’t know how the man makes it through the day.”

  Chapter Ten

  Harry walked into his office to find the place deserted and a fat
stack of mail piled at the center of his blotter. His ADA, Danielle, was likely across the hall talking to Julianne in the sheriff’s department. The intern they’d hired from Albany State University, Layla, had mentioned running to the Piggly Wiggly for break-room supplies. Ever since the debacle with the envelope delivered to his house, he’d insisted he open his own mail. The last thing he wanted was for the people who worked for him to open anything dangerous or even questionable.

  If someone was coming after him, they needed to keep him and him alone in their sights.

  Sighing, he dropped his briefcase onto the desk and used the corner of it to push the pile around a bit. It looked like a mishmash of number-ten business envelopes and Christmas cards. There were a couple of larger manila envelopes. Dropping into his chair, he closed his eyes and gave himself a minute to process what had transpired in Judge Nichols’s chambers.

  At any other time, he would not have thought anything about a twenty-year-old kid getting busted for possession, but now every single drug-related incident in Masters County felt personal to him.

  He’d been there when the DEA’s methamphetamine raids had decimated the town. He’d been there when the power struggle resulting from those arrests led to a series of heartbreaking murders made to look like suicides. Then Samuel Coulter moved in and changed the face of it all. Wealthy and urbane, Coulter had been an object of curiosity, and yes, even admiration to some, when he first moved to Masters County. Judging from the gossip he heard around town, some of the women considered the man handsome, but Harry could only figure they’d never seen him up close and personal.

  His own dealings with Coulter left him feeling cold inside. Like he’d swallowed an ice cube whole and it landed in the empty pit of his stomach and refused to melt.

  The man was off. He’d seen it from the moment they met. But getting a hinky feeling about someone and being able to prosecute them for a crime heinous enough to put them away for a good long time were two very different things.