Kernel of Truth

by Kristi Abbott

“Who’s Tom Moffat?” Garrett asked.

  “The guy in the park who’s always complaining about women,” Dan said. “One of Jasper’s panhandling buddies.”

  “The guy in the courtroom today who said both Jessica and Rebecca should be sent home?” Garrett helped me on with my jacket.

  I looked up at Dan. “He comes by nearly every evening to get the leftover popcorn. He has been since Jasper was arrested.”

  Dan held up his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tom’s been spouting off about women, Nessie, and contrails since we were in high school. How hard was that blow to your head?”

  “Hard enough to seriously hurt me, Dan. You’ll talk to him, right?” I asked.

  He gave me a look.

  “Fine. Go do your law enforcement business all on your own. Was anything taken from POPS?” I asked Dan.

  “You’ll have to come in and look around. Did you leave any money in the register?” Dan asked.

  “No. I put it in the safe every night.”

  “Good girl.” He looked from Garrett to me. “Nothing was really taken from Barbara’s. The only things taken from Coco’s were used to frame Jasper. Whoever’s doing this doesn’t want stuff.”

  I sensed a shift in the mood of the emergency room. There were fewer beeps, less rustling. It was like the weird stillness that happens before a tornado tears through the town. Then I saw him. Antoine. I should have known he wouldn’t leave quietly.

  “I can take over from here,” he said, trying to shoulder Garrett aside. “I am her husband. I will take her home.”

  “You’re not my husband anymore, Antoine. We’re divorced. Remember?” I said.

  “What’s going on in here?” Jing Jing shouldered her way in now, too. Then she looked up at Antoine. “Hey! You’re the guy from the grocery store. Man, I love your Alfredo. It’s the bomb.”

  Antoine smiled. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “But you can’t take her home,” Jing Jing said.

  “Why not?”

  “She said you’re not her husband so you can’t be back here.” She actually started to push him. I was liking Jing Jing more and more every second.

  “What about him?” Antoine gestured to Garrett. “And him?” He pointed at Dan.

  “Her lawyer and law enforcement.” Jing Jing shrugged. “They both have reasons to be here. You? Not so much. Time to go.” She took his arm and tried to guide him out of the bay.

  Antoine didn’t budge. “Not without my wife.”

  “Antoine,” I said, my head starting to throb again. “Please go.”

  Dan put his hand on my arm. “I’ve got this one, Bec.”

  In one smooth move, he had Antoine’s right arm twisted up behind his back and was marching him out of the emergency room.

  “Well, that’s take care of,” Garrett said cheerfully. “And without me being arrested, too.”

  “It’s not over, though.” If anything, putting obstacles in Antoine’s path made him more determined. I used to think that was sexy. I don’t know what was wrong with me.

  Jing Jing shook her head. “How come so many men are fighting over you? Don’t they know what a pain in the neck you are?”

  “It’s one of her charms,” Garrett said and helped me into the wheelchair to leave. “Let’s get you home before you get twin disturbing-the-peace citations from the hospital and your house. Jing Jing is ready to kill you and your dog is howling nonstop.”

  Twenty-one

  I could hear Sprocket howling from two blocks away. “What did Dan do to him?” I asked Garrett.

  Garrett steered his Lincoln Navigator onto my street. “I believe he put him in the backyard with food and water.”

  “Why is he howling like that?” I strained forward against the seat belt to try to see my dog.

  Garrett pulled into the driveway. “He’s your dog. You were hurt. He doesn’t know where you are or if you’re okay. He’s worried about you.”

  Awwww. My dog loved me. But ohhhhh that racket he was making was making my head throb. I opened the gate and called to him. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m here.”

  It was like flicking a switch. He went silent, and then he was a quivering, whimpering, face-licking bundle of fur (well, hair actually, since poodles don’t have fur). “It’s okay, big guy,” I kept repeating as I knelt down next to him. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

  Garrett leaned against his car, a funny look on his face. “I know how he feels.”

  “Dan has been locking you in the backyard? Dude, you have thumbs. You can totally undo the gate.” I rested my head against Sprocket’s neck.

  Garrett snorted. “No. I know what it feels like to be worried about you and to not be able to do much.”

  I looked up at him. “You worry about me?”

  “At this point, I think the whole town worries about you.” He held out his hand to help me to my feet.

  “The whole town worries about what I might do. That’s entirely different than worrying about me.” I stumbled a little as I stood up and he caught me against himself. I was suddenly way too aware of the breadth of his chest and the hard muscles beneath his dress shirt.

  He shook his head and turned me toward the stairs to the apartment. “Whatever you say, Rebecca. I don’t think you see Grand Lake any clearer than it sees you, though.”

  We went up to the apartment and I put on hot water for tea. Garrett watched as I first warmed the pot and then added the boiling water. “You do have a knack for making everything into a production. You could have microwaved a mug of water and dropped in a tea bag.”

  “Taste the tea first and then complain about my methods.” I poured milk into the bottom of a teacup and then added the tea.

  He took a sip. “Fine. It’s better. Do you think you could sit down now, though? I’m supposed to be watching you while you rest, not while you make tea for Her Majesty.”

  I curled up in my favorite spot on the couch with my own cup of tea. “So what do we do now?”

  Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. Garrett answered it. Jessica walked into my little apartment. “Hi, Garrett,” she said. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “I’m staying with Rebecca for the afternoon. The doctor didn’t want her to be alone. What exactly are you doing here, Jessica?” He didn’t sound like his usual amiable self. He sounded a mite testy. I found that remarkably satisfying.

  She held out a pink box. “I heard about what happened. I made these for Rebecca.” She cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, also sorry about my little outburst at POPS. I’ve been having kind of a tough time.”

  She really did look pathetic. I motioned for her to come in and she handed me the box. She looked around at my apartment. “Ever heard of beige, Rebecca?”

  Sprocket stood up from where he’d been lying next to me on the floor and growled a little deep in his throat. I was glad there was someone out there who was willing to defend my interior decorating. I patted his head and he settled back down.

  I set the box Jessica had handed me down on the coffee table and opened it. It was filled with little round sandwich cookies. I picked one up. “Macarons, Jessica? Did you make these?”

  She nodded.

  I was impressed. Macarons are seriously difficult. In fact, I’m not sure there’s a more difficult cookie out there to make. Just about everything can go wrong with a macaron. There can be air pockets. The feet can be uneven. The almond flour can be too chunky. The surface can get sticky instead of glossy. They can be mushy. I took one out and took a bite. It was everything I could do not to spit it out in my hand. From what I could taste, pretty much everything that could go wrong did go wrong. That’s a lot of wrong for one tiny cookie. I mumbled through the mouthful of crumbs and goo, “Thanks. When did you have time to make these, Jessica? Macarons take hours.”

/>   “You’re welcome.” She shifted from foot to foot. “I’m, uh, not sleeping too well these days. I’d rather keep busy than stare at the ceiling for hours.”

  Having spent hours staring at the ceiling in the emergency room while being terrorized by a tiny Filipina, I could understand.

  “Pretty scary what’s going on in town right now. It doesn’t feel safe anywhere.” Jessica looked at the floor.

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  “I heard you think Tom Moffat might have something to do with it.” She came over and perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, setting her purse down on the floor.

  “Where’d you hear that?” Garrett asked sharply.

  She shrugged. “I stopped by the hospital with the cookies first. Jing Jing told me you’d been released, but she also told me what you’d said to Sheriff Cooper about Tom.”

  Was there no privacy anywhere? “If there’s anybody out there who seems to have a grudge against women, it’s him,” I said.

  Jessica nodded. “He’s everywhere, too. He would have known about Jasper going into the alley for the popcorn. They were good friends.”

  I reached down to pet Sprocket and realized he wasn’t by my side anymore. He was next to Jessica’s purse with his nose deeply in it. “Sprocket! Get out of there!”

  He lifted his head and trotted over to his bed in the corner. Jessica grabbed her bag. “Again with your dog? You need to train that thing.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “He’s going through a phase.”

  “Well, hurry him through it.” She stood and went to the door.

  Seeing Sprocket with his nose in her purse reminded me of the lavender sachet. I got it from the drawer in the kitchen where I’d stashed it. “Jessica, have you seen anything like this around?” I held out the sachet to her.

  She looked at it, but didn’t take it from my hand. “What is it and why does it look like it’s been slobbered on?”

  “It’s one of the sachets Annie made for Coco. She left them on the back porch that evening. Somehow Sprocket got hold of one of them. Have you seen any others?”

  “Where?”

  I tried to keep the impatience from my voice. “Anywhere. Jasper says he saw them on the back porch that night around nine thirty before the window was broken, but they weren’t there the next day.”

  “So?” Now she sounded impatient. And annoyed.

  “And it seems like whoever took them might know something about what happened.”

  “So we’re to look for an unknown person carrying lavender sachets, and that will be our murderer?” She should carry a bowl to catch all the disdain that dripped off her voice.

  “Never mind.” I put it back in the drawer, feeling a little stupid. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

  Jessica let herself out. “See you around.”

  It almost sounded like a threat.

  * * *

  The next day I stopped by the fire department. I walked in through the open bay. “Hello?” My voice echoed off the concrete in the high-ceilinged space.

  A young man came out from behind one of the ambulances. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a paramedic.”

  He grinned. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have an idea of what size or shape paramedic you might want?”

  I was old enough to be this broad-shouldered young man’s . . . aunt. Yeah, let’s say aunt. But he was making me blush. “I was actually looking for the paramedic who helped take me to the hospital yesterday.”

  “Ah. Come on back to the office. If you know where you were, I should be able to find out who gave you a ride.” He stopped and turned back to me. “You’re not suing us, are you?”

  I held up the box of Coco Pop Fudge I’d brought. “No. I’m involved in enough court cases already. Actually I wanted to say thank you.”

  “And you brought baked goods, too?” he asked.

  “You bet.” You could get in almost anywhere if you brought baked goods.

  He grinned. “You sure I didn’t take you?”

  I laughed. “Pretty sure. He had dark hair.” My flirty friend here was totally a blond.

  I followed him into the office. He got behind the computer and tapped a few buttons. “You want Eric Gladstone.”

  “I don’t suppose he’s here.” That would be too much to hope for.

  “I’ll check.” He went out into the bay and bellowed, “Gladstone! You here? Someone wants to give you treats!”

  Apparently I was not the only one who responded to tragedy by bringing food. My paramedic came out from the back room, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked. “Ah,” he said. “The popcorn lady.”

  “Yes. That’s me.” I held out the box. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened, but I do remember you saying that you liked chocolate.”

  He took the box and opened it. “Is this that popcorn fudge that everyone’s been talking about?”

  I blushed again. “Well, I guess I am a bit of a Twitter sensation.”

  He took a bite and his knees bent a bit. “Whoa. I can see why. Thanks.” He started to walk away.

  “Wait, Eric. I had a question,” I called to his back.

  “Shoot.” He turned back around.

  “Did you say something about Barbara smelling like chocolate and me smelling like almonds when you were taking me to the hospital?” It all seemed a little fuzzy, but I was almost sure that hadn’t been a delusion.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the chocolate smell because, well, I love the stuff.” He held up the wedge of fudge he had in his hand. “The almond thing reminded me of my grandma. She loved that liqueur, the one that’s made out of almonds. Almost smells like maraschino cherries.”

  “Amaretto?” I suggested.

  “That one. Yeah.” He smiled and nodded. “She could sure get toasted on that stuff.”

  “I don’t suppose you were on the scene for Coco Bittles, were you?” I asked.

  He nodded his head. “Yeah. I was. I’m on graveyard and we’re a pretty small department.”

  “Did you smell anything on her? Any chocolate or almond or anything like that?” Maybe there was some kind of olfactory connection that could help figure this out before all the lady shop owners of Grand Lake had concussions.

  He shook his head. “No. But she’d been gone awhile when we got there. Eight or ten hours, easy. I’ve got a darn good sniffer, but I don’t think anybody’s that good.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you talking to me.”

  “I appreciate the fudge. This stuff is amazing.”

  So much for the idea that the chocolate and almond smells would connect all three of us.

  * * *

  I made it to POPS to open for the breakfast crowd the next day. I’d been worried that my on again/off again hours would have chased away my regulars, but there were about five of them waiting when I unlocked at seven thirty. Janet Barry brought me a little teddy bear holding a “Get Well Soon” heart. She brought a smaller one for Sprocket, who took it from her fingers like a nurse removing a splinter. She gave him a pat.

  Brandy Johnson and Olive Hicks brought me a bouquet of flowers.

  “Aww, you guys,” I said. “Coffee’s on the house for everybody!”

  “I was real sorry to hear about you being attacked,” Olive said. “But I was kind of glad at the same time.”

  I stopped mid-pour. I wasn’t sure I wanted to give free coffee to someone who wanted me to be bonked on the head hard enough to knock me out. “You wanted me to be attacked?

  She shuffled her feet. “No, of course not. But now we know for sure that you’re not the one who killed Coco, aren’t we? Least that’s what everyone’s saying.”

  I hadn’t realized the jury was still out on that, but rather than pour hot coffee over her head, I decided inste
ad to smile and say, “I was always sure.”

  She laughed. I gave her her coffee and didn’t even spit in it.

  * * *

  The afternoon fudge line was no different. People handed me cards and flowers and little stuffed animals along with their money as they paid for their Coco Pop Fudge. Lots of people told me that they never thought for an instant that I would hurt Coco.

  Lots of people had clearly entertained the idea, or they wouldn’t have felt it necessary to tell me they hadn’t.

  While I appreciated the support, I still worried about the idea that there was someone out there with a grudge against the women shop owners of Grand Lake. Worried enough that I had Sam come with me as I took the garbage out to the Dumpster.

  He took the bags from me as we walked down the steps of the back porch.

  “Thanks, Sam.” I stayed by the porch railing as he tossed the bags up and into the bins. I was glad of the chance to stand still. My head had started to throb again and I was looking forward to getting home and curling up on the couch with Sprocket.

  “Off to youth group?” I asked as we walked back into the kitchen

  Sam shook his head. “You didn’t hear?”

  “Hear what?” I looked around to see what still needed to be done. Pots and pans had been washed and dried. The floor had been swept. Garbage was out. I sat down at the table.

  “Ms. Jessica was asked to step down. We can’t meet until we have a new advisor. I guess they don’t want to turn a bunch of kids loose in the church with no adult supervision.” He sat down across from me and started to play with the salt and pepper shakers.

  That was definitely news to me. “Why did they ask her to step down?”

  He shrugged. “I think it was that whole car accident thing and then coming in here and yelling at you in front of everybody. People are saying she’d been drinking. They want whoever is advising the youth group to set a good example for us.”

  And apparently drunk driving at six thirty in the morning didn’t count as setting a good example.

  “She’s not teaching at the preschool, either.” Susanna came in and sat down next to Sam. “Mrs. Santos is substituting for her until they make a decision.”