Cruel Candy

by Mildred Abbott

  Katie and I looked at each other. “Why don’t you sit down, sweetie?” The tone and gentleness Katie used when she addressed Lois made it clear she held completely different feelings for the owner of Healthy Delights than she had for the woman’s sister. “We need to tell you something.”

  “I swear, Mom, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to witness.” Watson and I were snuggled together on the couch in Mom and Barry’s living room. “Lois completely broke. Screaming, crying. She was hysterical.”

  “It makes sense.” Barry gave a serious nod. “Not only were they sisters, but Opal did everything for Lois. Everything. From managing the money to handling conflict. Not that there was much conflict with Lois, with as gentle as she is. I don’t know how she’ll cope without Opal.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Mom’s soft voice seemed miles away, as did her expression as she stared unfocused over my shoulder. “It’s amazing the pain a person can go through and survive. How we keep living even when our world crumbles.” Again I couldn’t help but notice how small Mom was. She’d always been petite, a trait that had gotten squashed by my father’s genes, but she seemed more and more fragile.

  Barry reached across the coffee table and squeezed her hand, then held it gently.

  I knew the moment Mom was reliving. Over the course of the afternoon, I’d relived it several times myself. It hadn’t hit me when I’d seen Opal’s body, not during the interview with the police, not when I told Katie. But Lois’s reaction? I’d seen it before. I’d been with Mom the night the officers came to our door about Dad.

  She was right. I wouldn’t have guessed Mom would’ve survived with how broken she was. Much less that she’d move back to her childhood home and marry her childhood sweetheart barely a year later.

  The afternoon had drained me. I was beyond exhausted. I had no doubt any sleep I’d missed the night before would be more than made up for the second my head hit the pillow. I didn’t plan on setting my alarm.

  “They’re not letting me back into the shop for several days. They’re not sure how long. Though that’s not surprising, considering the shop is the scene of a homicide and a secret drug den.” I stroked Watson’s back, and he let out a long, contented sigh. “Not a great beginning for a place I was going to call the Cozy Corgi. There’s not much cozy about murder and drugs.”

  Mom smiled, seeming to come back to the moment. “Chances are it’ll make your opening week so much more successful. I guarantee you everyone will want to drop by, probably take a bunch of pictures and post them online with some murder-hashtag thingy.”

  “Murder-hashtag thingy?” I chuckled softly, the laughter relaxing me a bit.

  “You know, that social media stuff. They use hashtags. Personally I can’t stand Twitter, too much drama. But Instagram is fun. Although I don’t use too many hashtags on my posts.”

  Look at my nearly seventy-year-old mom being hip. “I didn’t know you had an Instagram account.”

  “Oh, sure. Verona and Zelda got me going on it. It’s a lot of fun. Mainly I just post pictures of the jewelry I make, but sometimes I post about the grandkids on there.”

  I could just imagine Barry’s twins trying to teach Mom how to use social media, I wished I’d been a fly on the wall.

  Barry smirked. “Remember that time you accidentally posted the naked picture of me? You nearly lost your account.”

  Mom rolled her eyes and gave me an exasperated sigh. “I was simply doing it to use the filters. They really do make a picture a thousand times better.” She patted Barry’s hand. “Not that you need filters, of course.” She looked back at me. “I swear, in this day and age you’d think this country would be a little less puritanical. Half the world has a penis. I’m not sure what the big deal is.”

  “No. No, no, no.” I waved my hands in front of my face, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a laugh. “It’s enough that I had to walk in on a dead body today. I cannot handle these mental pictures on top of it all.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to see the photo your mother and I took this morning? We’re sending it out next month as a Christmas card. We’re both wearing Santa hats.” Barry couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Only Santa hats.”

  “Argh!” I waved my hands again. “I swear you’re trying to kill me. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  Barry opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

  “On second thought, don’t answer that. It’s better not to know. And please take me off your Christmas card mailing list.”

  Barry shrugged. “Fine. No Christmas card for you.” He focused on Watson. “But you will get one, won’t you, buddy? You don’t want to be left out on Christmas.”

  At attention from Barry, Watson leapt off the couch and hurried over to get petted.

  The place where he’d lain against my thighs suddenly felt cold.

  As the two of them had a love fest, Mom turned back to me. “On the bright side, now that you’re not going into the store for a few days, we can spend the time getting the house together. I know your things aren’t scheduled to arrive for a couple more weeks, but I’ll help you do some cleaning, and maybe we could go shopping for some new items before your stuff gets here. Start fresh.”

  Though it killed me to think about postponing getting the bookshop ready, she had a good point. It would be nice to get the house done as much as we could. “I don’t think we need to do much shopping. This house is so much smaller than what I had in Kansas City. I’ll be getting rid of a good two-thirds of what I own as it is.”

  She fluttered her hand in dismissal. “I already said I thought you should leave it all there to begin with. Why you would want anything in your house that Garrett touched is beyond me. There’s no reason to bring that negative energy all the way to Colorado.”

  “Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?” I rubbed my temples. “First Opal’s dead body this morning, then I’m scarred with images of you and Barry engaging in a dirty Christmas photo shoot, and now you bring up my ex-husband.”

  “What? I’m just saying that there’s only so much healing that sage and crystals can accomplish.” Mom shrugged. “But if you don’t want a fresh start, that’s your choice. I’ll bring over the crystals and sage anyway.”

  I latched on to the subject change, more out of desperation than anything. “Speaking of a fresh start, I really appreciate you guys handling the taxidermy. I can’t tell you how much I was dreading walking into all those dead animals.”

  Mom and Barry exchanged looks, and then both turned back to me. Mom stared at me quizzically. “What do you mean, dear?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Well, just what I said. Thank you for handling cleaning the bookstore out. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the taxidermy that—” I had to recall the man’s name. “—Sid had left.”

  Barry shook his head slowly. “We told you, darling. We hadn’t made it down to the shop. We barely had time to pick up at your place and hang the curtains.”

  I studied them like they were playing the world’s most boring, unfunny joke. “Are you serious? You didn’t get rid of all the taxidermy?”

  They both shook their heads again, and Mom answered this time. “No. You’re saying it wasn’t there when you went in this morning?”

  Before I could answer, a loud knock sounded at the door.

  The three of us jumped, and Watson ran to the door, letting out a vicious bark.

  Barry stood with a groan and chuckled. “I swear, as long as a potential robber never sees that little guy in advance, you’ve got yourself one hell of a guard dog.” He walked across the room, patted Watson on the head, and opened the door.

  Mom and I leaned around to look, and I sucked in a little gasp at the sight of Sergeant Wexler illuminated in the doorway.

  He glanced into the house, gave a little wince and a nod as his gaze met mine, and then refocused on Barry. “Mr. Adams?”

  Barry n
odded. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

  Again Sergeant Wexler grimaced. “Sorry to say, but I need you to come with me to the station for questioning in regards to Opal Garble’s murder.”

  If it hadn’t been clear that I’d moved to a small village of a town, sitting with Mom at the police station clarified it instantly. The times I’d visited Dad at the station in Kansas City, the place had been a madhouse, bustling with activity, noise, and chaos. In the middle of it, stood my father—tall, strong, capable of handling anything that came his way.

  As we sat waiting for some word, the little police department in Estes Park was nearly as quiet as a hospital waiting room, save for the ringing of phones. There was even one of those inspirational posters of a cat hanging on a branch that was in classrooms when I’d been in school. From the yellowed tattered edges, I figured it was about how long the poster had hung on the wall. If not for the officers in uniform, I probably wouldn’t have been able to identify where we were.

  Mom kept her hand in mine, forcing me to acknowledge how much more frail she had grown over the past six years. I’d noticed on our visits, but I was shocked that her skin was paper thin, and the bones underneath felt as fragile as a sparrow’s. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “This is taking forever. It’s ridiculous. Like Barry could ever kill anyone.”

  I squeezed her fingers. “We’ve been on the other side of this a million times, Mom. I’m sure it’s just protocol.” I spared a glance at the open box of doughnuts on the counter. They’d disappeared gradually as we’d sat waiting. “Things don’t seem to be in a hurry here.” Nor did they seem to care about stereotypes or leaving their snacks in a break room.

  “I can’t imagine what they possibly could’ve found linking it to Barry. We haven’t even been in that shop since Sid died. I doubt we’ve been in it for a couple of years before that, actually.”

  “Probably best not to speculate. We’ll get our answer soon enough.” I attempted to keep my tone neutral, even though I wasn’t sure why I bothered. “However, it would probably be best to call someone other than Gerald Jackson. I know he and Barry go back to childhood—”

  “There’s no point discussing it, Fred.” Mom cut me off, and there was a touch of steel in her exhausted tone. “Gerald, Barry, and I all go back to childhood, and there’s no one else Barry would consider representing him. No one.”

  “But Gerald? Seriously, Mom? Can you imagine what dad would—” At the sting in her eyes, I shut up. Not the time.

  Actually, it was the time. The only time, but bringing Dad into it wasn’t going to help.

  There was movement down the hall that caught my attention. Officer Green. I was surprised to see her still on the clock. I started to call out to her but then thought better of it. She’d made her feelings about Barry and Mom very clear.

  Maybe she was the reason Barry had gotten pulled into this.

  Thankfully, she didn’t notice us and walked out of sight. As I was getting ready to return my attention to Mom, and come up with some other argument about Gerald, Sergeant Wexler stepped into the hallway, sipping something out of a Styrofoam cup. The sight of him brought a flash of anger and a sense of betrayal. Even as the emotion cut through me, I was aware it was preposterous. We didn’t know each other. He hadn’t betrayed me. Still, I went with it. I spared Mom a glance. “I’ll be right back.”

  She followed my gaze and nodded. “Finally. Thank you, dear. You and your father were always better at handling things like this.”

  It took an effort not to bring up Dad in terms of Gerald again, but I called out to Sergeant Wexler halfway down the hallway and realized the loud echo was coming from me stomping. I slowed, forcing calm into my voice as I approached him. “May I speak with you?”

  He hesitated. And I could see some sort of struggle in his beautiful green eyes. Beautiful green eyes? The thought only managed to increase my irritation.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Page, but I’m not quite ready to speak to you and your mother yet.” He offered a smile, one that I was certain he practiced and used with every family he encountered. Handsome, measured, and cool. My irritation sparked further.

  “Then let us see Barry. I’m sure he’s a wreck, and it would definitely help my mother.”

  “Ms. Page, I know you aren’t aware of how all this works, but trust me—”

  “My name is Fred, not Ms. Page.” Even as I hissed out the words, I was aware that no matter what he said, I would’ve been annoyed. If he’d called me Fred, I’d probably have taken his head off and told him to call me Ms. Page. But I didn’t care. “And maybe you haven’t been told, but my father was a police detective. Rest assured my mother and I are well aware of how all this works. And I know, especially with as slow as things are around here, you can expedite this if you had half a mind. The very idea that Barry is involved in this is absolutely ludicrous. Anyone who’s spent more than two seconds with the man would know that. The fact that you’re considering his involvement only shows how incompetent you must be.”

  Well, that was a dumb move. It was rare that my temper got the best of me, but his handsome face was making me want to bash it into the wall. Or kiss it. Which made me want to bash it even harder.

  To my surprise, when he spoke, he didn’t sound offended. “Barry Adams was a police detective? I don’t think we’re speaking about the same man, Fred. I might not have lived in Estes Park very long, but I’m fairly certain that detail wouldn’t have escaped my attention.” Not only did he not sound offended, but if anything, there was an amused twinkle in his eyes. Which was also irritating.

  “See, right there. I gave you this information earlier today. Barry is my stepfather, not my dad. Obviously if you can’t keep such a simple detail straight, it explains how you could accuse Barry of something so absurd.” In the back of my mind, I knew my father would turn me over his knee to hear me speak to another police officer that way. That or die laughing.

  Sergeant Wexler’s annoyingly twinkling eyes studied me, as one of his stupidly charming grins formed at the corner of his lips. Finally he motioned with his cup to an empty room next to us. “Well then, by all means, why don’t you let me know how to do my job.”

  I stepped in, waited for him to shut the door, and took a place by the table. I was not going to sit down. “First off, I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Sergeant Wexler.”

  Yep, full-blown grin. “Branson, please.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged one of his shoulders. “You’re the one who insisted we be on a first-name basis, so the name’s Branson.”

  I stared at him. “Are you actually flirting with me right now?” Those words I hadn’t meant to say.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then gave another shrug. “I’m not in control of how you interpret my words, Fred.”

  I gripped the edge of the table. It didn’t wobble. Bolted down, it seemed. Probably best for both of us. I took a calming breath, at least it was supposed to be calming. My temper wasn’t going to help Barry.

  “What in the world do you have on my stepfather? I don’t actually think you’re incompetent. I was impressed with your skills today.” I figured I’d get more with flattery than anger. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had been impressed with him. “You can’t possibly think Barry killed Opal Garble. I don’t believe you’d make such a stupid mistake.”

  “It seems you’re the master of the compliment and insult combination.” He took a sip of his drink, his grin never faltering. “And since your father was a detective, you’re obviously aware I can’t share that information with you. You also know I wouldn’t bring him in if I didn’t have cause.”

  I did. It didn’t make sense, but he was right, mostly, and I knew it. “You can hold him for twenty-four hours without any real cause. It happens sometimes, when the police don’t have any real leads but it makes it look like they’re doing something.”

  His grin finally faded. “And that was pure insult. I can pr
omise you, Fred, I am not that kind of cop. I’m good at what I do.” His eyes narrowed. “I will let you know, considering the information I do have, I will be keeping your stepfather overnight.”

  I balked, and guilt bit at me. Sometimes my temper helped; other times it made matters worse. “Don’t do that just because you feel insulted by me. It’s beneath you.”

  “Obviously we don’t know each other.” He took a couple of steps toward me. Considering the glower on his face, I supposed I should feel threatened, but I didn’t. I did feel something, however, even if I didn’t want to admit what it was. He held my gaze before continuing. “I can assure you, your critique on my professionalism and skills have nothing to do with why I’m holding your stepfather overnight.”

  Probably five minutes too late, I opted for keeping my mouth shut. I didn’t want to make matters worse than I already had. And strangely, I believed him. He wasn’t simply trying to prove a point. As nonsensical as it was, he’d found some connection.

  When I didn’t speak, Branson’s posture relaxed and his tone softened. “I am sorry for what you and your mother are going through. Especially considering you’re part of the police family.”

  His sincerity was clear, and it dampened my anger somewhat. “Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry for letting my temper get the better of me.”

  “I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised that with your connection to how things work that your family has chosen Gerald Jackson.” Actual concern laced his voice. “I’ll happily call you a better lawyer. You could open the yellow pages, close your eyes, and pick one at random and get a better lawyer.”

  Tell me about it. “Gerald and Barry are old friends.” I attempted to infuse some confidence in my tone. “Barry has complete faith in his abilities.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then why isn’t Gerald having this conversation with me right now?”

  “He stepped out to get a kombucha. He needed some energy.” I wanted to crawl in a hole. “Some natural energy.”