If Bread Could Rise to the Occasion

by Paige Shelton

  “She takes lots of notes. I don’t trust her.”

  “But she doesn’t fit with your theory,” Cliff said.

  “I know, but I thought it might be a good chance to figure out what all the notes are for.”

  Jim sighed. “Jules Broadshed?”

  “Arizona. The west again.”

  “Elian Sanchez?” Jim continued.

  “He says he’s from Boston. He doesn’t sound like it at all. We’ve had students from Boston, and not one of them spoke without at least a tinge of that Boston/Kennedy-type accent.”

  Jim shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Betts, this is more than a long shot.”

  I shrugged. “You’ve got people out there looking for Mario, so you’re not wasting valuable time. It’s worth a shot—even a long one. If it falls apart, it falls apart.”

  “I suppose so. However, let me ask the questions. Got it?” Jim said.

  I nodded. “Don’t forget about Brenda’s notes.”

  The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked. “I won’t.”

  Jules Broadshed was the student who acted most as if she didn’t want to be there. She fidgeted, looked uncomfortable, and tried to avoid eye contact with all of us. Shelby Knot and her tattoos seeped attitude. She wasn’t pleased to be back in the police station, no matter what the reason might be this time.

  Elian Sanchez looked like he would be fine if he just had something to do other than sit. He was clearly bored.

  Brenda Plumb was not bored, not in the least. In fact, she sat up straight and alert. She didn’t have her pen and notepad out, but I could tell she was itching to reach into her bag and grab them both.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Jim began, “we have cause to believe that one or more of you isn’t who they say they are.”

  I blinked at Jim. He got right down to business.

  The only person who showed an exaggerated reaction was Brenda Plumb. She cringed. Jim caught it.

  “Ms. Plumb? You have something you’d like to share with the rest of the group?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  Jim and Cliff shared a smile, but Jim moved on.

  “I’m not sure how I couldn’t be who I say I am,” Shelby said. “If you need proof, I’m happy to pull up pictures for you. I’m pretty well known in Portland. I’ve had multiple stories written about me, many pictures posted on the Internet.” She sounded both bored and annoyed.

  Jim sidled up to Cliff’s desk and half sat on the edge. “Actually, we know that, Shelby. I have a couple questions for you, though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Did you know Freddie before you came to the cooking school? Any of you know him?”

  Again, Brenda Plumb was the only one to display an unexpected reaction, but again, Jim ignored her widening eyes and almost affirmative nod. I about jumped up and pointed at her, but I’d told Jim I’d just observe.

  “I didn’t know Freddie before I met him here,” Shelby said, but her body language suddenly changed. Went from annoyed to curious. “Why? Is he okay?”

  “We don’t know. We can’t find him.”

  That got their attention and they all seemed to straighten and become more interested in what Jim had to say.

  “I don’t understand,” Shelby said. “Are we . . . Should we be worried about him?”

  “We’re worried,” Jim said. “Anyone here know where he is?”

  The four of them looked at each other as they shook their heads.

  “Anyone want to tell us what really happened at the reception?” Cliff asked. “Clearly, we didn’t get the whole story. Now might be a good time to get the truth.”

  “I wasn’t there,” Brenda said. “I wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. I don’t know why Freddie said he might have seen me inside. In fact, I wasn’t even downtown that day at all.”

  “Jules and I weren’t there, either. We were at the pool hall.” Shelby looked at Jules.

  “It’s true. We weren’t ever out of each other’s sight. I promise.” Jules might not have been guilty about anything, but she was most definitely nervous, though that could be considered a normal reaction when talking to the police.

  “Elian?” Jim said.

  “I told you how I thought Freddie got the black eye. I found him afterward,” Elian said.

  “You like to crash parties, Elian?” Jim said. “Something you normally do?”

  “What? No. I was just . . . It was just stupid.”

  “Where’re you from originally?” Jim asked.

  “Boston!”

  Jim smiled. “Lived there all your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ever traveled west, to California maybe?”

  “What are you talking about?” Elian said.

  “I just wonder two things. One, have you ever been to California? Two, why don’t you sound like you’re from Boston?”

  Again, Elian said, “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure you heard me.”

  “Well . . .” Elian flustered. “No, I’ve never been to California. And there are all kinds of accents in Boston. There’s not just one.”

  “You sound so . . . plain,” Jim said.

  Elian shrugged.

  “How’d the Sox do this year?”

  “I have no idea. I’m not a baseball fan.”

  “Football, hockey?”

  “No. I like to cook and bake with my free time. I don’t watch sports.”

  I liked to cook and bake, too, but I had some idea how Missouri’s college and professional sports team fared. Of course, not being a sports fan didn’t make Elian a killer.

  “Jules?” Jim turned slightly. “You ever been to California? Maybe recently even?”

  Jules blanched. “Yes, I was there over Christmas.”

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me about it.”

  “I have an aunt who lives there. I stayed with her. We did some tourist stuff. We do every time I go.”

  “I see. Eat out much?”

  “Yeah, almost every meal.”

  “Remember where?”

  “Not really. I could call my aunt, though. She could look up the places.”

  “I just might have you do that. We’ll see. Thanks for offering.”

  With Jim’s friendlier tone, Jules relaxed a little. She attempted a smile at Jim, but it was weak.

  Jim surveyed the students with suspicious, questioning eyes. I would have found it intimidating; they did, too, but it was interesting to watch them hide it.

  “Well, I suppose that’s it for now. You may all go, but the regular instructions apply. Don’t leave town. And, of course, if you see Freddie, tell him I need to talk to him and then you call me right away.” Cliff handed out business cards to everyone.

  As they all stood to leave, Jim said, “Ms. Plumb, you have an extra moment?”

  “Uh, sure,” she said.

  Elian, Jules, and Shelby cleared out of the jail quickly. They probably hoped they weren’t called back, too.

  Brenda Plumb wasn’t good at masking her emotions. I’d thought she was snotty and strange, but now she just looked scared. I wondered what Jim had seen that had caused him to call her back and let the others go. I remained quiet.

  “Come on back and have a seat again,” Jim said.

  I was sitting in a chair that was closer to the two small holding cells in the back of the space than to the two desks in the middle. Brenda pushed through the short swinging gate and sat in the chair next to Jim’s desk that she’d previously sat in.

  “Coffee? Soda?” Cliff said.

  “No, thank you.”

  Jim and Cliff both sat in their own chairs. It was as if they knew where to place themselves to form the best barrier. Cliff was more toward the front doors and Jim was more toward the back of the jail. There was no place for her to run, if that had even occurred to her.

  “I think I forgot to ask you if you’d been to California recently,” Jim said as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Oh. Yes, well,
in fact, I have.”

  “Care to share the details?”

  “I merely traveled through. Back in March. I had a full day’s layover in San Francisco before my flight to Hawaii—well, Los Angeles and then Hawaii.”

  “I see. And how much sourdough bread did you eat?”

  Brenda cringed. “Shoot,” she said, which struck me as gruesomely casual if she was saying it because she’d just been found out as a killer.

  “Ms. Plumb?”

  She bent over and reached into her bag. Both Jim and Cliff moved their hand to their guns, but they didn’t pull them from the holsters.

  “Oh, no, I don’t have a weapon,” Brenda said. “I’m pulling out my notebook.”

  Jim and Cliff relaxed when she produced said notebook.

  “I was there in San Francisco the day that the news of what happened to ‘Freddie’s’ father broke. I know who he is. I’ve known since the second I saw him at the school.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” I piped up from the back of the room.

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe you knew. I thought it was supposed to be a secret you were keeping. I didn’t think I was supposed to know.”

  “What about after Roger was killed?” Jim asked.

  “Well. I’ve been working on that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Brenda held up the notebook. “I’ve been taking notes since the first day. When I saw Mario Gepetti, I thought there must be something going on. I like to write and I thought I might write a story about it all. Or a blog. You know, there are lots of people who’d want to hear what a year at Missouri’s Country Cooking School is like, and a Gepetti in the mix would only make it more interesting.”

  “A writer?” I said. “A plain old writer?”

  “I’m not sure I’m a ‘writer’ but I like to write.”

  Brenda looked around at the three of us. We were all somewhat baffled by her admission, though there was no harm to what she was doing, I supposed.

  “Look,” she said, “I was going to go over these notes and see if I could find anything suspicious about anyone’s behavior. You’re more than welcome to look through them.” She bit her lip as she looked at me. “Well, the police are more than welcome to look through them.”

  I wanted to laugh at the indication that she’d written something unfavorable about me in her little book. That was the least of everyone’s worries.

  “I didn’t kill anyone, I promise,” she said. “I wish I would have told Betts and Miz that Freddie was Mario Gepetti. If Mario killed Roger, I wouldn’t know why. I think Mario’s in danger. I hope he’s hiding safely somewhere. But, there’s something else going on here that’s weird and, frankly, I think the other three that were just here are the most suspicious. Go ahead and look through my notes. You’ll see why.”

  Jim reached for the notebook. “You may go now, Ms. Plumb, but the same holds true for you as it did for the other three. Don’t leave town. And—be careful. Be alert.”

  “Oh, of course, I’ll be careful. Thank you for your concern, but I’d just rather wait for my notebook.”

  “You may go,” Jim said as he set the notebook on his desk in front of him. I didn’t know if Brenda would ever see it again, but for the time being, at least, Jim was taking advantage of possession being nine-tenths of the law.

  Brenda wasn’t pleased, but she wasn’t dumb, either. Without further ado, she hurried out of the jail.

  Chapter 23

  Brenda thought I could use more conditioner and give some attention to my flyaway-stricken hair, but other than that there were no entries about me in her notebook. It was a mellow criticism and one I’d given myself a time or two.

  There were some interesting notes in Brenda’s book that Jim thought might be helpful to his investigation, though.

  I hadn’t noticed how Shelby Knot had purposefully avoided sitting next to Mario the first day class was in session. In fact, Brenda had observed Shelby notice Mario beside her and made a quick move to another stool in the kitchen. She’d sat next to Roger Riggins, and Brenda wondered if Shelby might have been flirting with Roger.

  I remembered Shelby saying that her boyfriend would be taking care of her vegetarian hot dog truck business back in Portland. Jim made a note on his own notepad to call Shelby’s boyfriend to see if there were any issues.

  Brenda had been very aware of Elian’s quietness. She’d commented on how he frequently had an expectant look on his face as though he wanted to contribute to the conversation but then ultimately didn’t say anything. She compared him to a turtle who kept peering out of his shell but then withdrawing again. She also wrote down that on the day we made the starters she’d seen him hanging out by the shelf where we’d stored them much more than what she deemed necessary. He could have just been curious, and hoped to see the process take place. Or he could have taken Mario’s starter, waiting for a moment he could do so without being seen.

  Brenda had also noticed Jules’s oversized bag; but her observations had gone a little deeper. She’d seen at least one plastic zip bag inside Jules’s bigger bag that contained greenery; perhaps foliage or maybe just some herbs she’d brought with her for cooking purposes. Or maybe it was death camus.

  Of course, first on Jim’s list was checking out Jules’s bag and its contents. He’d be able to throw in a search of her rented room as well. As soon as we finished looking through the notebook, Jim hurried away to find a judge who’d grant him some search warrants that evening.

  The jail became eerily quiet after he was gone. I, Cliff, and the cuckoo from the cuckoo clock were the only ones left as we waited for Officer Jenkins to show up for the night shift.

  I sat in the chair next to Cliff’s desk as he typed notes on his computer. We chatted briefly about the case, but mostly he typed while I watched. I’d thought my way around Roger’s murder so many times that it seemed everyone we’d talked to might somehow be responsible. Jules, Shelby, Elian, and Mario were all equally suspicious, but, then again, maybe not. Maybe we’d completely overlooked the killer. A chill zipped up my spine at the thought that a murderer who might never be caught was in our midst.

  It must have happened more than I wanted to contemplate. If Mary Silk’s story was true, Mr. Howard Knapp had gotten away with multiple murders. I still hadn’t figured out how we would manipulate Jake’s tie to the historical society to give the police clues about the bakery fire. The truth needed to be told, but it was most definitely going to cause a lot of ruckus before it did any good.

  “You cold?” Cliff said as he stopped typing.

  “No, just a little freaked.”

  “Understandable.” He pulled his fingers off the keyboard and rolled his chair so his computer monitor wasn’t in our way. “Jim will catch the killer, or killers, whatever we have going on here.”

  “I know, he’s good. But they do get away sometimes, don’t they?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Cliff . . .”

  “What’s up, Betts? What else is bothering you?”

  “We live in the strangest place, don’t you think?” I said.

  Cliff laughed. “Yes, Broken Rope is strange. I’m sure glad I came back, though.”

  “Me, too, but . . .”

  “What? Just spit it out.”

  “You ever think we’re . . . well, we’re haunted?”

  I thought he might laugh again, but he didn’t. Instead, he rolled the chair even closer to me. “By what, ghosts? Past decisions? Literal or figurative?”

  “Well, both probably, but I was thinking more the . . .” I was going to say, “ethereal kind,” but my comment was interrupted by a loud metallic thud.

  It had happened before, just prior to when I first saw the ghost of Jerome Cowbender outside the Jasper Theater. Jim had said that he’d never remembered the cuffs falling off the wall at any other time.

  Jerome couldn’t get inside the jail. The ghosts were met with some sort of barrier when they tried to enter c
ertain places, though I still didn’t completely understand the determining factor behind those places. Gram and I both thought that Jerome couldn’t get into the jail because he’d spent so much of his life running from the law.

  I’d concluded that the first time the cuffs had fallen had been because Jerome was trying to get inside, to Gram, who was being held for questioning at the time.

  “That’s strange,” Cliff said as he stood. “I think you were here the last time these fell, too.”

  This time, I thought Jerome was trying to communicate again, and my gut told me he urgently wanted to talk to me.

  I stood, too, and followed Cliff to the front of the jail. “I need to go.”

  Cliff had picked up the cuffs and was trying to find a place to put them on the crowded wall. His eyebrows came together as he looked at me. “Okay. So suddenly?”

  “Yes, I just remembered that Gram wanted me to do something at the school.”

  “All right. So, we’ll talk about the ghosts later?”

  “Yep. I’m just being silly.”

  Cliff put his hands on his hips. “Really, B., you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I leaned in to give him a quick kiss good-bye, but his hand quickly came off his hip and he moved his arm around my waist. Cliff wasn’t in the mood for a quick kiss.

  And come to find out, neither was I.

  Just like in Jake’s archive room, it was a perfect moment. An instant that took away all the concern, the fear, and made me remember what I really knew was important. It was good to have it reconfirmed.

  “It’s too bad I’m such a rule follower, or I’d sneak out of here and leave the place unwatched.”

  I sighed heavily. “Yeah, too bad. There’s always later.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  “Me, too.” And I truly was.

  We disengaged and Cliff went back to his computer as I left the jail.

  It was dark, Main Street was lit by only a few of our old-fashioned streetlights. During the tourist season, they were all illuminated, but as visitor count declined, so did the number of lit lampposts.

  I saw activity in some of the shops, but almost everything was closed for the evening. There was no one outside, no person or ghost as far as I could tell. I looked around and back at the jail door before I whispered, “Jerome?”