Three
In the cell next to mine, Cathy shook her head. “I’m still not getting how any of this has anything to do with obstructing justice. I’m hearing nothing but popcorn, poodles and politics.”
“I’m getting to it. Where’s the fire?” I said, then cringed. The fire had been at my shop. Without it, I wouldn’t have found the diary. Without finding the diary, I wouldn’t have been at City Hall for the city council candidates campaign kickoff. If I hadn’t been there, Allen might not have thought to order popcorn from me as their gift. If he hadn’t ordered popcorn from me, Lloyd McLaughlin might still be alive and I wouldn’t be locked up in the cell. It was a simple story. I couldn’t believe Cathy couldn’t sit still for it. Everyone was in such a hurry these days.
She held up her hand and lay back down on her bunk. “You’re right. It’s not like I’ve got some place to be. At least, not some place good.”
Before I could reply, Cynthia finally showed up. Huerta escorted Sprocket and me into the interview room and locked my cuffed hands to the big metal ring in the center of the table.
I’d been in this room before. Too many times, to be honest. I’d never been on this side of the table before.
“Glenn,” Cynthia said in a silky voice.
“Cynthia,” Huerta replied in a throaty grumble.
The air between them was so electric I would have fanned myself if I had a free hand. They’d met when Cynthia represented Antoine. I think Huerta fell in love with her when she subdued an attacker with her bare hands in the time it took me to call for help. I wasn’t sure when Cynthia fell for Huerta, but the fact that the admiration was mutual was hard to miss.
Huerta pulled Cynthia’s seat out for her. She smiled over her shoulder. Some kind of look was exchanged that left Huerta turning pink. Then he exited and the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.
“Well, Rebecca, it seems you’ve gotten yourself into another fine mess.” She opened up her tablet and typed something. Sprocket circled the table and put his chin on her thigh. “And she’s gotten you into hot water, too, hasn’t she, handsome?” She scratched underneath his chin and he gave her a happy sigh.
“I didn’t do anything, Cynthia. This is all some sort of craziness on Dan’s part,” I said. I’d seen her reduce Dan to near tears and she routinely left Garrett speechless. She’d have me out of here in no time.
“Really? So you didn’t go to Lloyd McLaughlin’s wake and question mourners about their relationship with the deceased?” Cynthia looked up from the tablet.
“Well, yeah. I did do that.” I twiddled with the chains locking my wrists.
She sat back in her chair and regarded me with those big hazel eyes. “And what were your purposes?”
“To find Dan some suspects in Lloyd’s poisoning so people would know it wasn’t me who killed him.” Easy-peasy. All a big misunderstanding. Nothing to see here. Everyone move along.
Cynthia sat back up and shut her tablet. “Then you’re guilty.”
“What? No! I’m not guilty. I was . . .” I tried to gesture with my hands, but the chains stopped me.
“Questioning potential suspects and generally getting in the way of an active police investigation.” She didn’t smile as she finished my sentence for me. There was no twinkle in her eyes.
“I had good reasons.” It was ridiculous to think that I would sit around doing nothing while my shop and my popcorn were slandered.
“Nobody cares. Nobody cares if you did it to save orphaned kittens caught out in the rain. Nobody cares if you did it for truth and justice. They only care that you did what you’re charged with doing. Intent only matters a little tiny bit.” She moved her thumb and forefinger just a whisker apart.
“Nobody? Nobody at all cares why?” That hardly seemed fair.
She shook her head. “Nobody. Not even me.”
I slumped into my chair. “So what now?”
“The good news is that I can probably get you out with no more than a slap on the wrist. A fine and maybe some community service work. The bad news is that court is no longer in session and since it’s Friday, it won’t reopen until Monday morning. Then the priority cases will come ahead of yours. We may not be able to get you in front of a judge to set bail until Tuesday.”
That straightened me right back up again. “I’m in here until Tuesday?” I counted on my fingers. “That’s like four days!”
“I’m aware. I was pretty good with the whole days-of-the-week thing by the time I left preschool. Shaky on some of my colors, but days of the week I knew stone-cold.” She clicked the lock of her briefcase and stood up.
Most of the time, I appreciated good sarcasm. At the moment, it wasn’t making me laugh. I glared at Cynthia.
“Giving me the stink eye isn’t going to change a damn thing. I suggest you get comfy for the weekend. Can I bring you anything?” she asked.
I rattled off a list. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Pajamas. Cynthia shook her head over each one. “They’re not going to let you have any of those things.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Safety issues. They’ll issue all those things if they haven’t already.” Her eyes narrowed. “They are treating you okay, aren’t they? You’re not being abused?”
I wasn’t being abused and they had given me all the things I’d mentioned. I just wasn’t crazy about what they’d issued. I liked my cinnamon toothpaste and my electric toothbrush and my special wide-toothed comb. None of that apparently mattered to anyone but me. No one cared. No wonder prison made you hard. “Could you let people know what’s going on?”
She laughed. “You really think everyone doesn’t already know?”
She had a point. The gossip pipeline was pretty efficient. With Garrett’s involvement, his legal secretary, Pearl, would know, and once she knew, well, everyone knew. Telegraph. Telephone. Tell a Pearl. “Could you make sure that Carson knows so he won’t expect me? He’s not big on gossip. He could miss the whole thing.” If the music was turned up loud enough, he could miss a parade of elephants down Main Street.
“You’ve got it. I’ll drop off some magazines and books for you, too. Do you like puzzles at all? You’ll need to keep busy. It’ll help pass the time.” She jotted down a few notes in her phone.
“Yes, please. Do you think you can get me the diary I’ve been reading? It should be at my apartment on my bedside table.” I could spend some time looking for more clues.
“You’re keeping a diary?” She cocked her head. “As interesting as your life has been since I’ve known you, I don’t blame you. It would probably be pretty entertaining to read.”
“It’s not my diary. It’s one I found while Carson and I were repairing the kitchen in POPS. I’m trying to figure out whose diary it is and who some of the people in it are,” I explained.
“Oh. Less fascinating,” she said. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
Cynthia knocked on the interview room door. Huerta was there practically before her knuckles hit the metal.
“Finished, Ms. Harlen?” he asked, his voice throaty.
“Not hardly, Officer Huerta, but I’m ready to go for now. Rest assured, I will be double-, perhaps triple-, checking that my client has been treated with the respect and dignity that her place in this community demands.” She licked her lips.
“I won’t disappoint,” Huerta said, leaning ever so slightly forward.
“Would you two like the room?” I rattled my chains. “I’d be happy to go.”
They sprang apart. “I’ll be back for you and Sprocket in a minute, Rebecca. I need to escort Ms. Harlen out.”
“I guess that’s what the kids are calling it these days,” I muttered under my breath.
Cynthia shot me a look over her shoulder, and I recalled who I was counting on to get me out of here eventually and shut my trap. “I’ll be back as
soon as I can,” she said and then they were both gone.
Sprocket curled up on my feet under the table with a harrumph.
“They’re not fooling anybody,” I told him. “Not anybody at all.”
Huerta finally returned to take me back to my cell after what felt like an eternity.
“That took a while,” I said.
He shrugged and gestured that I should walk out of the door in front of him.
“Did you ask her out?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Ask who out?” He made a shooing gesture to keep me moving.
“Cynthia. Who else?” I sauntered down the hallway.
“Ms. Harlen and I have a strictly professional relationship.” He opened the door to the cell block.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” I went into the cell with Sprocket and then stuck my hands through to have the cuffs taken off after he closed the door.
He didn’t grace my remark with a reply.
“So you getting out?” Cathy asked from the next cell.
I sighed. “Not until Monday or Tuesday.”
“Ooh. Hard time,” she mocked me.
I settled down on my bed. Sprocket jumped up next to me. “It feels pretty hard,” I whispered to him.
Cathy said, “It gets easier. Want to tell me more about what happened?”
“Sure.”
• • •
I was Haley’s go-to babysitter and had been since I’d moved back to town. Not that Haley had been awake enough to go out much since Emily was born, but still, if she did, I was the one to take over. Once Allen’s order for the city council candidates was ready, Sprocket and I loaded up the fold-up wagon that Haley had bought to haul toys and kids back and forth from playground to beach to car to house with Bacon Pecan Popcorn in POPS tins. Well, I loaded the tins. Sprocket chased Evan around the front yard while Haley sat on the front porch nursing Emily, a blanket thrown over them both. The circles under Haley’s eyes looked like purple half moons.
“Are you getting any sleep at all?” I asked.
“Define sleep,” she said.
“It’s that thing you have when your head is on a pillow and your eyes are closed,” I explained, since I was pretty sure she had forgotten what it was.
“Oh, I remember that. That was good stuff.” She leaned her head back against the railing. “The answer is no.”
I winced. “Anything I can do?”
“Take Evan to the park this afternoon? Emily seems to nap longest around two. Maybe I can sleep while she sleeps if little man there is occupied.” She nodded at Evan, who was now rolling across the lawn and giggling wildly as Sprocket licked his ears.
I smiled. “Consider it done.”
“Thanks, sis.” She looked like she might cry.
I finally convinced Evan and Sprocket to stand still long enough for me to get the leash on Sprocket and a kiss on Evan. Then we were off to City Hall with promises to return for the afternoon outing. The sky was a bright hard blue and the sun shone, although it didn’t seem to be casting much warmth. “Lighthouse?” I asked Sprocket.
He picked up his pace, which I took to be a yes.
We took the detour up Marina Road to the shore of Lake Erie where the lighthouse stabbed into the cold blue sky. It had been built from metal melted down out of Civil War cannons. It was where my father proposed to my mother and where I used to make out with boyfriends in high school and where Sprocket got shot. It used to be my happy spot. Now I had mixed emotions. It was still gorgeous, though, and despite the trauma he experienced there, Sprocket seemed to like to stand on the dock and give the lake air a good hard sniff on a pretty routine basis.
“Rebecca!” a voice called to me as I looked out over the choppy gray waters of Lake Erie.
I turned. “Dario!”
Dario ran toward me down the path. He had been working in the kitchen at POPS until our recent problems. He’d been a lifesaver in so many ways.
“What are you doing out here, girl?” he asked, running up to us. He bent over and rested his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. Sprocket took the opportunity to lick his face. He laughed and scratched Sprocket behind the ears.
“Walking like a sane person,” I said, eyeing his running shoes.
“And that?” He pointed at the wagon.
“Special order for the mayor. Apparently he likes to give gifts to the city council candidates. He took pity on me and special-ordered some popcorn.” I looked over at the tins stacked up, liking the way they glinted in the sun.
“I saw the article about the council elections in the Sentinel. That’s quite a slate.” He kicked at the ground with his toe. “Any word on when POPS is going to reopen for real?”
I sighed. “I wish I knew. Carson is doing the best he can, but we keep running into problems. There was more damage to the electrical than he thought there was at first. We’re still waiting for cabinets. The ones that match my original ones were out of stock. Frankly, it’s a nightmare.”
“Renovations always are. Eric and I know three different couples who ended up splitting up because of renovation projects. People are much more committed to wood-front cabinets versus glass-front cabinets than you’d think.” He shook his head. “Let me know when you’re close to done. That is, if you still want help.”
“I think I’ll need even more when we reopen.” Trying to re-create what I’d had sometimes seemed daunting. It would be a lot easier with Dario by my side. He had an amazing way of knowing what I wanted before I even knew.
He waved good-bye and took off trotting down the path. I sighed. I missed Dario. I missed drinking strong coffee with him in my kitchen. I missed having a kitchen to drink coffee with Dario in.
Sprocket and I walked the rest of the way to City Hall, but some of the spring had left my step.
We wound our way up the wheelchair ramp into City Hall and down the corridor to the mayor’s office. I knocked on the doorjamb as I walked in. “Special delivery,” I sang out.
Allen’s personal assistant, Otis Hanson, looked up from his computer. “Rebecca, was Allen expecting you?” The smile was friendly; I wasn’t sure about the words. Otis liked to keep Allen on schedule. Unexpected people dropping in was not conducive to that end.
“Nope, and I don’t need to talk to him. I’m dropping off his popcorn order.” I pointed to the pile of tins in my wagon.
“Popcorn order?” Otis’s brow creased.
“For the city council candidates. His welcome-to-the-political-process presents.” Leave it to Allen to forget that he’d special-ordered the popcorn from me.
Understanding dawned on Otis’s face. “Oh, yes.” He pointed to a credenza on the far wall. “Stack them up there. I’ll call the messenger service.”
I paused. “Do you want me to deliver them? It wouldn’t be that much extra trouble.”
Otis shook his head. “Oh, no. I’ve had the service scheduled for weeks. I just didn’t know exactly what they’d be delivering until now.”
“Okay, then.” I stacked the tins up—with the exception of the ones Allen had ordered for Sally and Trina—and made my way down the hall to the city offices.
Just my luck. Trina was behind the desk. Again. I put the tin on the counter. She stared at me. “What do you want, Rebecca?”
“To drop this off.” I stared back. I was perfectly prepared to not blink for the next ten minutes if necessary.
Luckily, that wasn’t necessary. She blinked first. I felt a not-so-proud sense of satisfaction. “The tin is cute,” she said.
For a second, I thought I’d misheard. Trina saying something nice to me? For no reason? “Thanks. I had them designed especially for the shop. They’re new. They just came in.”
She grunted. “So that’s for us?”
“Yep. Allen wanted to give one to you and one to Sally. He said the city wo
uld grind to a halt without you two.” That whole giving-credit-where-credit-was-due was another side of Allen I hadn’t really seen before.
A little smiled played on Trina’s thin lips. I considered quoting her a French adage about flattery that Antoine used to say all the time, which roughly translated to “Every flatterer lives at the expense of the one who listens to him.” I decided just to leave my popcorn and go. Why ruin someone’s moment of happy? Even Trina’s.
• • •
“Who’s ready for the park?” I asked as I came in the front door.
Evan stuck his arms out like an airplane and ran at me making a buzzing noise. “Me! I am!”
“Great. Go get your coat and your shoes.” It was one of those wonderful sunny fall afternoons. He’d probably ditch the coat within five minutes of getting to the playground, but I thought I should at least look responsible until we got out of the house. I would be keeping my coat on. It was chilly outside.
He scampered off.
Haley was draped on the couch with Emily asleep on her chest. It almost looked like the baby had no bones. If the circles under my sister’s eyes got any darker, however, she’d look like a raccoon.
“Want me to put Emily in her crib?” I offered. I wasn’t even sure how Haley would be able to sit up from the position they were in.
Haley shook her head. “Setting her down in her crib seems to be about the same as dropping her in a vat of ice water. She’s screaming by the time she hits the sheets. We’re going to nap right here on the couch. If I don’t move, she might stay asleep for more than an hour.”
“What if you have to pee?” I could see any number of logistical issues with the plan.
“Hush. I don’t need any power of suggestion making me need to get up. Take Evan and go. Don’t come back for two hours.” Her eyes started to close before she got all the words out.
“Two? You said one.” Two hours might be a long time at the playground unless there were other kids around. I’d have to come up with some other plans to stretch our playdate. It was a little cold for ice cream.
Assault and Buttery Page 5