Assault and Buttery

by Kristi Abbott

  “Fine.” He inspected his fingernails. “A little bored.”

  “I can relate. Boredom sucks.”

  “Indeed.” He crossed his legs. “I was thinking about starting something new.”

  That was good news. Antoine had laser focus. Whatever he was working on, whoever he was with, had his absolute attention. A new venture would take that laser focus off me, where it had been pretty much since I’d left him. “That’s great. What’s the new project? A new product line? Maybe a line of kitchen gadgets?”

  “That last suggestion has merit, but no.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward on the table. “I am thinking of starting a small dining establishment. Sort of a L’Oiseau Gris East.”

  “Where?” I asked, a very bad feeling creeping into my chest.

  He opened his arms wide as if to embrace the entire room. “Here, of course.”

  I choked. “You mean here? In Grand Lake?”

  “Where else?” He asked as if there weren’t a whole lot of real estate in the United States outside of Grand Lake, Ohio.

  Maybe if I could appeal to the businessman in him . . . “There’s hardly the kind of clientele here that you get in Napa.”

  “So maybe I will take it . . . How do you say? Down market? Something more homey. Less demanding on the palate.” His smile was sly.

  I really did not like where this was going, not one little bit. “That’s not really your style, is it?”

  He shrugged. “The comfort food is a big trend these days. You know me. I can cook anything.”

  That was true. He really could. Antoine married both the art and science of cooking in his approach. There simply wasn’t a cuisine that could withstand his combination of intellectual rigor and flair. “But won’t it be difficult to have two places? It won’t be easy to split your attention like that.”

  He shrugged. “L’Oiseau Gris practically runs itself these days. Besides, I’m here all the time it seems anyway. I might as well have something productive to do.”

  If he had a restaurant here, he really would be here all the time. I could not imagine the kind of chaos that would make of my life. I was going to have to put a stop to this, but not by openly opposing him. Standing directly in Antoine’s way only guaranteed that you would be run over. “Where are you thinking about opening your place?”

  He checked his fingernails, which were of course immaculate. “Coco’s shop still stands empty.”

  Coco’s shop. The shop next to mine. Hollering distance from my kitchen to its. I walked over to the door and knocked. “Huerta, come get me. This conversation is finished.”

  Ten

  It was finally my day in court. Vera led me in through the back entrance. The courtroom was packed. I was a little embarrassed being led in still wearing my orange jumpsuit. At the sight of me, a pained noise went up from the crowd. I took my seat next to Cynthia. “I think you should have brought me some street clothes,” I whispered.

  “No. I shouldn’t have. Trust me on this one. You want to look as pathetic as possible.” Cynthia smoothed the skirt of her own immaculate suit.

  I’d spent most of life trying to avoid looking pathetic. “Why?”

  “Public sympathy. It’s totally working in your favor.” She pulled up a photo on her phone and pushed it across to me. People holding signs. Signs that read “Free Rebecca” and “Let Rebecca Go.” The last time people held up signs with my name and face on them in front of the courthouse, it had been the Belanger Bunnies calling for my head on a platter.

  “Who’s organizing that?” I pushed the phone back to Cynthia.

  She shrugged. “No idea. I’m not sure anyone is. It’s kind of a grassroots thing. Grew up all on its own.”

  “Wow.” I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyelids. “Can I see it again?”

  “Sure.” She returned the phone to me.

  I enlarged the photo and scanned the crowd. Annie and Faith were front and center, but that didn’t surprise me. Jasper was there, bless his heart. So was Janet with her double stroller. Dario and Eric were there. Lloyd McLaughlin’s widow was there. Olive Hicks from the Lighthouse League was there, too.

  “You okay?” Cynthia asked.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Didn’t know you had so many friends and supporters, did you?” Cynthia smiled. She turned to the district attorney. “Did you see all of Rebecca’s supporters out front, Phillip?”

  “O. J. had a lot of public support, too, Cynthia,” he said.

  “And he was acquitted, wasn’t he?” she purred back.

  “I sent you some motions last night, by the way.” He made it sound dirty, somehow.

  “I saw them. Not a lot of notice there, Phillip. I’m not sure how the judge will feel about that.” Cynthia’s tone was equally as flirtatious. I glanced around for Huerta, but didn’t see him. Lucky for Phillip. Huerta could totally take him.

  “I did more than I had to, Cynthia. I could have dropped them on you right here and now. I gave you the advance notice out of the goodness of my heart.” He touched his hand to his chest.

  She sat up straight. “Really? I didn’t realize you had a heart.”

  Phillip was saved from answering by the entrance of Judge Romero. I had a soft spot for the Honorable Judge Romero. He’d pretty much sided with me on every case that had come before him. While I knew he was a bit of a foodie, I felt that he was also fair. He hadn’t sided with me to get free food. In fact, he’d turned down a box of fudge I’d brought him. “As much as it pains me, Rebecca, I must both be above the law and appear to be above the law,” he’d said with such a sad look on his face that I’d wanted to cry. No man should have to say no to food if he really wanted it, in my opinion.

  I’d given the box of fudge to his secretary and hoped he got to sneak a few pieces that way.

  After we did the requisite up-down of standing for the judge and sitting when he did, he banged his gavel and we were off.

  “Ms. Anderson, you’ve been charged with obstructing justice. How do you plead?” Judge Romero sounded a little bored.

  Cynthia jumped in. “My client pleads not guilty, Your Honor.”

  I shot her a look. Hadn’t she said I was guilty?

  She narrowed her eyes at me and I kept my mouth shut. Cynthia knew what she was doing and after having seen her subdue a man with her bare hands once before, I didn’t want to piss her off. Come to think of it, she and Huerta would make an amazing crime-fighting team.

  She scribbled a quick note to me: Just because you are guilty doesn’t mean you should plead guilty.

  I nodded. “That’s right, Your Honor. Not Guilty.”

  Romero stared at me for a moment. I couldn’t read his expression. He then turned to Phillip. “I see you’re charging Ms. Anderson with a felony rather than a misdemeanor.”

  “I am, Your Honor. This is not Ms. Anderson’s first flirtation with this kind of offense,” he replied.

  Romero sighed. “I’m aware.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Bail?” he asked.

  “We are asking that Ms. Anderson be held without bail, Your Honor,” Phillip said.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Cynthia shot back. “First of all, this should be a misdemeanor if it should be anything at all. And no bail? Do you seriously think Rebecca is going to flee the country over this?”

  Phillip shrugged. “Her ex-husband is in town. He has international ties and plenty of money.”

  “The operative word being ex-husband. Why should the international ties of someone not even related to Ms. Anderson have anything to do with whether or not she gets bail?” Cynthia threw her hands in the air as if completely exasperated.

  “Antoine is here?” Judge Romero asked, sitting up a little straighter.

  “Oui, Your Honor. I am here.”r />
  I turned. Antoine stood at the back of the courtroom.

  “Welcome back to Grand Lake, Monsieur Belanger,” Judge Romero said. I couldn’t decide if this was going to be good for me or bad for me. Romero loved Antoine. Well, maybe not Antoine himself, but Antoine’s television show and products.

  “Thank you so much, Judge Romero. I am happy to be back. I only wish that the constabulary of this fine town would stop wrongfully imprisoning me and people I care about.” Antoine looked like he might cry over the injustice of it all.

  Romero cocked his head to one side. “You feel Ms. Anderson has been charged unjustly?”

  Antoine shrugged. “I am not an expert in legal matters, but it appears to be curious to me.”

  Romero stroked his beard. “Ms. Harlen? Anything to say?”

  “Your Honor, I move the charge be dropped to a misdemeanor and my client be released on her own recognizance. Anything else is simply ridiculous. She has strong ties to the community. She’s a business owner and an upstanding citizen.”

  “She’s in my courtroom an awful lot for someone who’s upstanding.” Romero leaned back and crossed his fingers across the expanse of his stomach.

  “Through no fault of her own,” Cynthia replied.

  “Whose fault would it be?” Romero asked, head cocked to the other side.

  “Each situation has been unique, Your Honor,” Cynthia said.

  Romero sighed. “As is your client, Ms. Harlen.”

  I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or not. Based on the tone, I was leaning toward not.

  “Your Honor,” Phillip cut in. “We are talking about Ms. Anderson deliberately getting in the way of a possible homicide investigation. This is not the first time she’s done so. The other times have ended with violence and property destruction. It is for her own safety and the safety of the entire community that I recommend her being held without bail.”

  “Tell me more about your concerns for the safety of the community,” Judge Romero said.

  Yeah. How on earth did I endanger the community?

  “The last two times Ms. Anderson meddled in an ongoing investigation there was, respectively, a shooting and a fire. We all know the dangers of gunplay in public places, Your Honor. Imagine how terribly wrong things could have gone if not for the quick actions of citizen and fellow attorney Garrett Mills.” Phillip looked around and nodded. “Mr. Mills is present and available to testify if Your Honor so desires.”

  I twisted around in my seat. Sure enough, Garrett was leaning against the wall in the back of the courtroom. I gave him what I hoped was a withering glare. “The traitor,” I whispered to Cynthia.

  She patted my hand. “Not to worry. We’ll make him pay.”

  “Is that all?” Judge Romero asked.

  “I feel it should be sufficient, but no, Your Honor, there’s more.” Phillip shuffled some papers and brought out a stack of photographs. “If I may, Your Honor?”

  Romero gestured for Phillip to bring the photographs to the bench.

  “These are photos of Ms. Anderson’s shop after the recent fire there. The fire was set by the person who had murdered Ms. Anderson’s ex-husband’s assistant. She did it to get rid of Ms. Anderson because of Ms. Anderson’s interference in the investigation into that death.”

  Romero winced looking at the photos. “Terrible. Just terrible.”

  Cynthia got to her feet. “Your Honor, if I may?”

  Romero laced his fingers and rested his hands on the desk. “Of course, Ms. Harlen.”

  “This is all immaterial. It has nothing to do with the case before us and only has to do with other people’s actions against my client. She’s not responsible for any of these things.” Cynthia stood straight and tall.

  “But she is responsible for her own behavior, and that’s what led these people to do what they did,” Phillip said.

  “It’s ridiculous to blame the victim,” Cynthia fired back.

  “Her presence is like screaming fire in a crowded theater,” Phillip said.

  Romero held up his hand. “Enough.”

  Everyone quieted.

  “My job, first and foremost, is to apply the rule of law to the matters brought before me. It seems clear to me that Ms. Anderson did indeed insert herself into an investigation where she did not belong and that she did so deliberately.”

  I hung my head. Cynthia patted my hand and whispered, “Told you that you were guilty. It’s not over yet, though.”

  “My second responsibility is to protect this community.” He turned toward me. “Ms. Anderson, you did not deliberately bring about any of these happenings, did you? You did not mean to set off a chain of events that led to public gunplay or arson?”

  “No, Your Honor. Absolutely not.” There. Someone understood! It wasn’t my fault.

  He steepled his fingers. “Yet these things occurred anyway. I can only find that your unsupervised presence in the community at this time could endanger yourself and others. You will remain in the Grand Lake jail until the time of your trial, which will be . . .” Judge Romero turned toward his chief of staff.

  “In three weeks,” she said.

  I turned to Cynthia. “What did he say?”

  She was already on her feet. “Your Honor, this is a travesty! My client is no more a threat to this community than her dog is.”

  Romero pointed his gavel at her. “Careful there, Ms. Harlen. Don’t push me.”

  She took a deep breath and shut her eyes for a second. I could almost hear her mental count of ten. She opened her eyes and said, “Your Honor, my client did not shoot a gun or light a fire. She was the victim of those crimes, not the perpetrator.”

  “And yet trouble seems to follow her. Why don’t we keep her and everyone else safe until Sheriff Cooper figures out what’s been going on? Or until her trial date. Whichever comes first.”

  “I strongly protest, Your Honor.” Cynthia squared her shoulders and glared.

  “Yeah. I got that.” Romero winked.

  “What if she was supervised?” Garrett stepped up to the railing between the observers and the lawyers.

  Romero paused, gavel in air. “Excuse me?”

  “You said her unsupervised presence was a danger to the community. What if she was supervised by an officer of the court?” Garrett asked.

  “What officer of the court would be taking that responsibility, Mr. Mills?” Romero asked.

  “I would.” He took another step forward.

  I whirled. “Supervise me? Like you’re my boss or something?”

  “No. Not your boss. Just someone deeply invested in keeping you safe,” Garrett said to me.

  I still didn’t like it.

  “That’s a big responsibility,” Romero pointed out.

  “I’m aware,” Garrett said.

  “What if I don’t like it?” I asked.

  “Would you rather stay in jail?” Romero asked. “That can be arranged.”

  I thought for a second. “What kind of supervision would it be? Would we have to be together all the time?”

  Romero stroked his beard. “That seems draconian. He should be aware of your whereabouts at all times, but you don’t have to be physically in his presence.”

  I stood. “Judge Romero, may I speak frankly?”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered. “I’m not sure, but I’m not going to keep quiet any longer.”

  “Rebecca,” Cynthia hissed at me. “Sit down. Let me handle this. We’re going to get you out today if you keep quiet.”

  “No, Cynthia. I will not keep quiet. I am sick of keeping quiet.” I turned back to the judge. “Judge Romero, do you understand why I’m in this predicament in the first place?”

  “I believe it was well laid out by the attorneys in the matt
er. You have, in the past, inserted yourself into investigations and as a result have ended up putting yourself and others in danger.”

  “Your Honor, you may call it inserting myself into an investigation as these other men might. I call it searching for the truth. I never had any intention in any of these cases of getting in the way of any official investigation. I simply wanted the truth.”

  “Okay,” he said, sounding unsure. “Where exactly are you going with this, Ms. Anderson?”

  “I’m going right here, Your Honor. I would not be the first woman who sought the truth and who sought it on her own terms to be brought down by the patriarchy.”

  “What?” Cynthia squawked. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just pointing this out. These men here,” I said, pointing at Dan and Garrett, “had me locked away for trying to clear my own name. Now you’re saying you’ll only release me if one of them volunteers to supervise me? What year is this, Judge Romero? Are we back in the 1950s, when I would need my husband’s permission to open a bank account? Or get a job?”

  “Of course not,” Judge Romero spluttered. “I assure you, Ms. Anderson, I was in no way intending for this ruling to be sexist.”

  “It might not be your intention, but it’s what’s happening, Your Honor.” I stopped and took a deep breath. “Ask yourself, which side of history do you want to be on? The side that sought equality for women or the side that kept them down?”

  The courtroom was more silent than I’d ever heard it be. I wasn’t sure if anyone was even breathing.

  “Your argument is interesting, Ms. Anderson, but in the end I’m more interested in the safety of this town than I am in the philosophical underpinnings of this decision,” Romero said. “Ms. Anderson will be released into the custody of Mr. Mills until her trial, which will be on . . .” He looked over at his chief of staff again who gave us a date.

  Romero banged his gavel and everybody stood up.

  Garrett said, “Rebecca, can we talk?”

  I glared at him and then turned my back. “Tell him I’m not speaking to him,” I told Cynthia.