by K. J. Emrick
Now he wouldn’t have to. Quinn was offering him a chance to keep doing what he loved, and do it his way. The right way.
“Jerry?” she prompted. “What do you think?”
“I think… I don’t know what to think. I never in a million years thought that I’d be offered this.”
“Why not?” Quinn asked him. “You deserve it. You have both the skills and the experience. And don’t forget, this wouldn’t be the first time. You served as interim chief when Rick Santimaw was killed. It was our mistake to ever hire anyone else after putting you in the top spot to begin with. If you take the position this time Jerry, I can guarantee you will have the support of my office when it comes time for an election. Personally, I think I will feel much more secure with the police department in your hands.”
“As would I,” Cookie said. She knew Jerry was at war with himself, wanting to stay a police officer but not wanting to disappoint her. He’d promised he would retire. He promised he would spend his days helping her at the bakery and enjoying their life together. He’d promised her so much.
Like his promise to marry her.
He didn’t want to disappoint her with this as well. With a smile, and a silent urging in her eyes, she let him know that whatever he chose, she wouldn’t be disappointed. Not in the least. “It’s all right,” she told him. “I want you to be happy.”
At his feet, Cream whuffed and pawed at his shoes.
“See?” Cookie laughed. “You’ve got Cream’s vote.”
“Well, Jerry?” Quinn said patiently. “What do you say?”
Very slowly, a smile crossed his lips. “Can I think about it?”
“Certainly,” the mayor of Widow’s Rest told him. “I can give you some time. You have from now until you leave my office to decide.”
Chapter 10
“I don’t think much is going to happen today, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Those were the words that were still echoing in Cookie’s ears as she sat between Jerry on one side and Amanda Tucker on her other on a hard bench in the Ellington County Courthouse. Jarvis Seaton had been processed yesterday at the police station for his crimes. It was the next morning now, and after a night of restless sleep for everyone involved, it was time to watch his arraignment before the judge.
Amanda had been released from the hospital just this morning with a clean bill of health. Jerry and Cookie had picked her up, with a clean change of clothes from her house. With a little help from neighbors and friends Cookie had arranged for Amanda’s house to be tidied up, and the broken window at least boarded up for now until the glass could be replaced. That would be one less worry for Sheila’s daughter to come home to.
After all, she was still grieving the loss of her mother, and now she had to face the fact that the killer had been a man she knew, once upon a time.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Amanda whispered to her. They were sitting up front in the small room, but every row behind them was packed as well. This was big news for their little area. Between reporters and people from Widow’s Rest and curious onlookers from all walks of life, they’d been lucky to arrive early enough to get these seats.
“It’s okay,” Cookie whispered back. “Jerry and I are here for you. We won’t let you go through this on your own.”
“I just… he used to date my mother.” Her face twisted up at the very thought of it. “He used to be someone I laughed with and talked to about stupid little daily problems. My mother adored him. Until their breakup I was sure they were headed to the altar.”
“Life changes,” Cookie said, and realized how ridiculously lame those words sounded, even if they were true. “Sometimes people are able to bend with the changes. Sometimes, they aren’t.”
Amanda looked over at her. “I have no idea what that means.”
Cookie patted her hand. “Sometimes the dough rises, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, you need the help of your friends to make the recipe work.”
“Leave it to you,” Jerry said from her other side, “to make sense of things with a cooking metaphor.”
She bumped her shoulder against his as she shared a private little smile with Amanda. Maybe her words had helped, and maybe they didn’t. Either way, having her and Jerry here was making an impossible situation better.
Jerry’s hand snaked over and held hers. She was proud to be sitting next to him this morning. He was in his full uniform. It was pressed and creased, and all the brass was shined. Including the “CHIEF” pins on his collar tabs. He didn’t wear the gold clusters like Ed Rosen had. He didn’t feel the need to push his position into everyone’s face. He was going to be a different kind of leader. A good leader.
Just like he was a good man.
Before leaving Quinn’s office Jerry had made Cookie promise, over and over, that it was all right with her if he took this step in his career. She told him the same answer every time. Yes. This was what he was born to do. After a little more urging, and a silent look from Quinn, Jerry had accepted the position. He was now the police chief of the town of Widow’s Rest.
He was hers, and she was confident enough in that now that the matter of their wedding being postponed was not going to bother her any longer. Maybe it would happen someday, and maybe it wouldn’t, but he belonged to her even if a part of him would always belong to the world of policing, of bad guys and good guys, of right and wrong.
She supposed she could let the world have that part of him. As long as the rest of him came home to her at night.
“I need to talk to you,” he said into her ear. “Can we just have the day to ourselves tomorrow? It’s Sunday, right? Let’s play hooky for just one more day. We’ll get up late, we’ll spend the day together. Just you and me. What do you say?”
She looked up into his hazel eyes, and her heart melted. “I say that sounds wonderful. It’s a date.”
A hush fell over the murmurs of the crowd around them, and then everyone rose as the judge came out from a side door. His Honorable Martin Stemple was a stout man and his black robe flowed out around him. When he sat, he banged an actual gavel against his narrow wooden desk to call everything to order. It was the signal for everyone to sit down again.
Then two officers from the Widow’s Rest Police Department brought in Jarvis Seaton, hands cuffed behind his back, walking between them the whole way up to the little chair and table set up for him in front of the judge’s bench.
The officers were ones Cookie knew. Not Mason and Cassandra. Jerry’s first act as police chief was to fire those two.
Judge Stemple read off the charges against Jarvis, with a brief description of each one. Murder. Attempted murder and reckless endangerment of life. Trespass. Assault. The list went on. When Cookie saw the tears spring up in Amanda’s eyes again, she leaned over to put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. She took a shaky breath, and turned a weak smile Cookie’s way. Just like she’d said, this was going to be something she could get through, as long as she had the help of her friends.
“Just remember,” Jerry whispered to them again, “we don’t expect a whole lot to happen here. Jarvis wouldn’t talk to me or anyone else. So the judge is going to ask him how he pleads, and then he’ll be sent back to jail. This should be fairly quick.”
It seemed forever before the judge stopped reading from the paperwork in front of him and looked up at Jarvis. He kept his eyes lowered, not meeting Judge Stemple’s gaze when he said, “How does the accused plea?”
“Guilty,” was the single word answer.
The courtroom erupted in loud exclamations. Reporters began writing furiously in their notepads. People stood up to squeeze out past others who were on the edge of their seats to watch the entertainment.
Next to Cookie, Amanda slumped in her seat. “Did he just say…?”
“Yes,” Jerry confirmed for her. “Yes, he did.”
Judge Stemple’s gavel pounded the bench again. “Quiet! Quiet in this courtroom or I’ll have everyone removed!”
Almost at once, everyone stopped talking and moving around. They didn’t want to miss what happened next.
“I will ask the accused again,” the judge said in a serious tone, “how do you plead to the charges read to you.”
“Guilty. I am guilty, your honor.” Jarvis finally raised his chin up, and even went to take a step forward before the officers caught his arms and held him fast. His had a slight French accent that got thicker as his voice rose. “I did these awful things. I needed the money. I am so far in debt that I can not breathe and Sheila promised me that money when we were together. She even wrote me into her will. I just wanted what was mine.”
“You should stop talking now,” the judge told him. “You should have an attorney…”
But Jarvis didn’t want to stop.
“I maybe asked her for too much. I think that I scared her. I never wanted to scare Sheila. I never wanted to hurt her! I love Sheila. I always did. We just could not get along so I had to leave her and I said some things when I left that… that… it does not matter. I killed her.”
Sweat was beading on the judge’s face now. He’d probably never had someone confess so thoroughly before. “Mister Seaton, you need to stop talking before you incriminate yourself further. I am postponing these proceedings until you can receive proper counsel for yourself. Talk to an attorney. You’ve already said enough to send yourself to prison for the next twenty years and if you say one more word—”
“I needed the money, don’t you understand?” Jarvis shook his head, as if he hadn’t heard the judge at all. “She took it out of the bank and I needed it. When I could not find it at Sheila’s apartment I went looking for it at Amanda’s but all those people were there and I had to scare them away. I wasn’t trying to kill anyone there, you see, I was just trying to scare them away so I could look through the house. It was not there, either and I was just so frantic I didn’t know what I was doing! Don’t you understand? I did not know!”
Then he turned around, looking over his shoulder at Amanda while the officers struggled to take control of him.
“Please,” he begged Amanda. “Forgive me? I did not want to hurt you. I would never hurt you! That is why I sent the flowers to your hospital room. I was so sorry about what I did. I am sorry, Amanda. Don’t you remember how much your mother meant to me? Don’t you remember…”
While he was still talking, Amanda stood up, and walked out of the courtroom. She didn’t want to hear any of his excuses.
Neither did the judge.
“Take this man out of here!” he thundered. “Get him out of my courtroom. Held, no bail. Jerry, help your men get this… defendant out of my courtroom.”
The way he said ‘defendant’ made it obvious that he wanted to say more.
Cookie kissed Jerry quickly on the cheek. “I’m going to find Amanda. I’ll meet you at home to get ready for Sheila’s services, okay?”
“That sounds like a plan. This is going to be a very busy day, isn’t it?”
“Do we ever have any other kind?”
“Nope. Not us. Hey, Cookie?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
What a week, Cookie thought to herself.
Waking up in her bed, taking her time on a sleepy Sunday morning, she yawned and stretched. Jerry had convinced her to keep the bakery closed for one more day, and she’d agreed. After all, she was only officially open until two o’clock on Sundays anyway, so a few more hours wouldn’t hurt her income all that much. After everything that had gone on this week, sleeping in had sounded positively wonderful.
The arraignment of Jarvis Seaton yesterday had been emotionally exhausting for everyone. Cookie would always remember the man’s words, and the look on his face when Amanda walked away from him. Her friend’s killer had been brought to justice. She didn’t feel any sympathy for him at all.
After Jarvis had been led away in handcuffs again, she and Jerry accompanied Amanda to the church for her mother’s services. Sheila’s funeral was as beautiful as such a thing could be. There were tears, and there was laughter, and there were lots and lots of stories about Sheila’s life. She would have loved it. She would have wanted the get together of her family and friends to never end.
More fully awake now, Cookie stretched again and blinked her eyes at the sunlight coming through the bedroom window. It was going to be a nice day.
Her arm fell on the empty side of the bed where Jerry usually slept. Where was he? He’d been here when she drifted off. She remembered that perfectly well. They had stayed up late, and Jerry had done everything he could to help her get sleepy. It had definitely worked. She’d slept like a rock.
Rolling out of bed she went out to the kitchen, looking for a little breakfast and probably some coffee so she could clear the fuzzies out of her brain. She was already thinking about what she would need for the store tomorrow, what to bake, what supplies she would need from the basement, and so on.
She was also thinking about the ad she’d placed in the paper, seeking to hire a helper for the bakery. The Help Wanted sign in the window said to enquire within. She had a stack of applications ready and waiting under the front counter. This was really happening. With all the other changes going on around her, this was one whose time had come.
Putting on her robe, and then her slippers, Cookie left the bedroom.
In the kitchen, she found a drycleaner’s bag hanging over a chair by the table. It was still on its hanger. Now, where had this come from?
She picked it up, and that was when she noticed the square of paper taped to the front with a message written in black marker. “Put this on, and come downstairs. We’re waiting.”
How odd, she thought. It was Jerry’s handwriting. Now, what was he up to?
Looking inside the plastic bag, behind the drycleaner’s logo, Cookie saw her favorite white dress. Goodness, she hadn’t worn that dress in months. She’d put it away in her closet last summer so that it wouldn’t get ruined during the winter months. Now here it was, waiting for her at Jerry’s request.
Well. She didn’t know what he had planned, but she was willing to be a little adventurous today. It might do them all some good to have some fun.
After she was showered and dressed, she looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. It was a very pretty dress. Made of satin, with pleats from the waist down and lace over both shoulders. She used to think it made her look old but then her granddaughter Clarissa had told her she was a real fox when she wore it. A silver fox, were her exact words. She chuckled to herself as she selected a matching pair of strappy sandals to go with it. Kids these days.
As she looked herself over again, she realized that her hair just wouldn’t do like this. If she was wearing this dress then she should go all out. It was the work of twenty minutes to put her gray hair into tight ringlets and apply a little makeup, but it was well worth the effort. She thought she looked absolutely fabulous.
Whatever Jerry was planning, she had no doubt he would appreciate the effort she was making. She was starting to feel excited at the mystery he was weaving for her. She couldn’t wait to see what was next.
It occurred to her that Cream was missing as well. Usually he would be jumping up and down to get her attention for his breakfast. Or his second breakfast, considering the time. Midmorning already? My, where does the time go.
Right out the window, as the old song said. Everything seemed to be moving so fast these days. Before she knew it, her time on Earth would be over. The world would belong to her granddaughter Clarissa’s generation and then to Clarissa’s granddaughter after that. Well. She still had plenty of good years left, and she planned on living them to the fullest. Starting with going downstairs and seeing what Jerry and Cream had planned for her today.
She walked down the stairs from her apartment to the bakery slowly, careful to lift the hem of her dress with each step. Odd, but she thought she could hear people in the bakery. A lot of people, actually. It was like they were al
l down there, waiting for her to arrive, talking quietly to each other until she opened the door at the bottom and stepped out into the kitchen…
Jerry met her there with a smile. He was in a white tuxedo, with a blue cummerbund and a blue bowtie. It fit him like a glove, and he looked so incredibly handsome that she had to stop for a moment and just look at him.
“I know,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I look amazing, don’t I?”
She laughed, and he brought her fingers up to his lips to kiss them.
“For the record,” he told her, “you look amazing, too.”
Cream came prancing around the corner of the kitchen island, and Cookie was delighted to find that he was wearing a little blue bowtie around his neck as well. He sat at Jerry’s feet, looking up at the two of them, his little doggie tongue lolling out in a smile.
“Well, here we are,” Cookie said. “Can you tell me what the big surprise is? And what on Earth is all that noise out in the dining area? It sounds like there’s a hundred people out there.”
“Close to it,” he said, twirling her around by the hand he still had ahold of. “The bakery can only hold sixty-eight people by fire code, but I figure we’ve got quite a few more than that.”
“Jerry Stansted, what are you up to?” She was loving all this attention, and the dancing, and the way he let her fall into his arms, but her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her. “What is going on?”
He held her against him, her back to his front, and his arms settled around her curvy waistline. “When I was deciding whether to take the offer of police chief or not, you told me that you would support me either way. Your exact words were, you want me to be happy.”
“That’s right.” She laid her head back against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of each breath he took against her neck. “Your happiness is important to me.”