Pint of No Return

by Dana Mentink

  Trinidad groaned.

  Warren patted her hand. “Terrible you should have had to find him, and you being new in town and all.” His sigh turned into a chuckle. “Funny, though, you accusing the chief of being another of Gabe’s wives. That was a hoot.”

  Trinidad glugged some water. It wasn’t exactly how she would have described her mortifying slipup.

  The chief summoned another officer with a camera and one who stayed outside jotting notes before she returned to Trinidad.

  “Did you see anyone else on the property, Miss Jones?”

  “No, but I heard someone out back. I thought it was Kevin, at first, but, um, he was in the kettle.”

  “I’ve got a cop out back right now, checking. Bunch of boxes there from the flea market. Looks as though they’ve been gone through. They’re junk as far as I can tell at this point.” She continued asking questions.

  Trinidad explained in spurts and gushes. “I was delivering nuts. We split an order. I’m opening a store. It’s called the Shimmy and Shake Shop, and we’re going to offer giant Freakshakes. They’re sort of hard to describe. Shakes, but mega-sized. You know, served in really huge mugs with all manner of goodies stuck to the sides and on top. Only, it’s much more amazing than I’m making it seem,” she babbled.

  Warren nodded enthusiastically. “Great idea. Nice town like this needs an ice cream shop.”

  A nice town like this? Where people are murdered and stuffed into kettles? She felt the chief’s gaze roving over her face. Warren’s words rang in her ears. Must have been a stranger.

  Was the chief thinking she fit that bill? She was new to town, the first to discover the body. She’d touched the kettle; her fingerprints would be there to be harvested by the police technician.

  Surely not. Chief Bigley couldn’t think that. Or could she? Mightn’t there be just a tiny bit of bad blood since Trinidad had willingly cooperated in the fraud case against the chief’s baby brother?

  The chief’s face remained impassive, but her brown eyes were calculating. “If you feel up to driving, you can go along home now, Miss Jones. We’ll be in touch.”

  Trinidad nodded, grateful that her legs seemed steadier as she opened the car door and allowed Noodles to slide in. Something scuttled under the front tire, borne by the warm breeze, flattening itself against her shin. She bent to retrieve a crumpled leaflet and jammed it into her bag, anxious to leave the Popcorn Palace and its grisly contents far behind.

  ***

  Trinidad peeled one eye open the next morning. For a moment, she could not place herself in space and time.

  Gabe. The memory of him banging around in the kitchen was so vivid. It was a cruel trick her brain played on her most mornings, dredging up that past life until it ebbed away with the intrusion of reality. Gabe was not here, she reminded herself for the millionth time. Gabe was a liar and a cheater. Gabe was in jail. He was the reason she’d landed in Upper Sprocket.

  Her senses staggered back online and recorded the knotty pine peaked ceiling of the loft a scant few feet from her forehead and the buttery sunshine warming her toes.

  The facts fell into place. Fact: she was occupying a two hundred square foot tiny house she’d rented on the outskirts of Upper Sprocket. Fact: Gabe was in prison. But there was something new nibbling at her consciousness—a dreadful nightmare.

  Fact: There was a dead man in a massive iron pot.

  That last thought got her sitting up so quickly her vision sparked. Not a nightmare. She really had stumbled upon poor, dead Kevin Heartly. She wanted to pull up the covers, burrow deep in the bed, and stay there until it all went away. Over the whirlwind of memories, she considered that Noodles was counting on her. Not to mention she had a shop to get ready for opening. It was enough to propel her down the ladder and into the miniscule shower, but the hot water did nothing to dampen the memory of her grisly find at the Popcorn Palace. Her stomach roiled too much to think about breakfast. There was only one thing to snap her mind out of its dizzying acrobatics. Work.

  An hour later, as she let herself into the Shimmy and Shake Shop, she kept her eyes away from the yellow tape cordoning off Kevin’s shop. It was somewhat of a relief that the twins were home today helping their mother with a wallpapering job. The murder was no doubt the top news item on everyone’s lips. Noodles took up his spot on his cushion, and she soothed herself by diving into ice cream preparations.

  She’d planned on making a rich custard base speckled with flecks of real vanilla, the perfect palette for a myriad of Freakshake options. She’d just scraped the flesh of the vanilla beans into a pot, added milk, and begun to scald the mixture when a tap on the door made her jump. She stood frozen until she saw Quinn Logan peering through the glass. With a sigh, she unlocked the door and welcomed him and his brother inside.

  Quinn’s smile made her temporarily forget her ice cream prep. He wore pants with the knees thin as paper and a T-shirt that had seen better days. Again, an unopened package of cigarettes occupied the back pocket of his jeans. He presented her a cup of coffee while Doug stood with perfect posture, staring over her shoulder at the ice cream machinery.

  “Saw you in here, and we figured you could use a dose of java,” Quinn said. “Stan Lawper owns the Full of Beans coffee shop across the street. Met him yet?”

  “Pinching pennies means I make my own coffee, mostly.” She didn’t want to tell him that none of the local coffee she’d tasted compared to her father’s Cuban concoction served in tiny porcelain tacitas. A few of his robust brews, he would proclaim proudly, would grow hair on any chest. “I went in a few times, but he was pretty busy so we’ve only exchanged a few words.”

  “He’s British, sort of a Renaissance man. He was a butler while he worked his way through law school, if you can believe it, but now he’s helping run his sister’s coffee shop.” Quinn chuckled, and she noticed a dimple on one side of his full mouth. “Fits right in here in Sprocket. We’re an eclectic bunch.”

  “Thank you for the coffee,” she said gratefully. “I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

  His smile vanished. “I heard about Kevin. Real sorry. No one deserves to die like that. I don’t even remember hearing of another murder in Sprocket. Can’t imagine why anyone would want Kevin dead.” He raised a brow. “Real sorry you had to be the one to discover it.”

  “Me too,” she said with a shudder.

  He inhaled. “Smells like vanilla in here.” He shot a look at his brother. “Excited, Doug?”

  Doug nodded but kept his gaze on the machines.

  “Anyway, I know you’re real busy but…” There was something uneasy in Quinn’s tone.

  “What is it? Do you want to sit down?”

  “No, uh…” Quinn’s forehead creased in thought. “Um, it’s none of my business, really,” he said, “but, when I was buying the coffee just now, I saw Juliette in there. She looks, um, real upset. The rumor mill is churning at full force, and she hasn’t got many friends that I know of, except Bonnie, and she’s out of town. You said you’d met her, so I figured maybe you might…”

  Trinidad was already turning off the stove and hanging her apron on the hook. “I want to get to know this Renaissance Stan, anyway,” she said. “Might as well be now.”

  He heaved a relieved sigh. “Excellent. I’ll introduce you.”

  Noodles followed Doug and Quinn across the street. A courtyard outside Full of Beans was lined with rosebushes heavy with blooms. Their fragrance mingled with the rich aroma of coffee. Inside, the quaint shop sported mismatched tables scattered across a scarred, planked floor. Wee vases offered a fresh blossom at every table. Trinidad was greeted by a gentleman with a thick head of silver hair who introduced himself with a polite handshake and a slight bow. His English accent was as charming as the blue checkered bow tie above the apron tied around his slim waist.

  “Welcome to Full of Beans. I
see you already have coffee,” he said, pointing to her cup.

  “Yeah, but I’ll bet she’d like something to go with that,” Quinn said.

  Stan smiled broadly. “My sister Meg has prepared some marvelous lemon scones and banana squares with browned butter icing. May I interest you in a sweet?”

  Trinidad grinned. “You had me at browned butter.” While Stan rang her up on the antiquated push-button cash register, Quinn casually bobbed his head toward the corner where Juliette sat staring at her phone. “Make that two banana squares,” Trinidad said. She took the little white bag he’d filled, her mouth watering. She felt uncertain as she shot a glance at Quinn. “Or maybe I should have asked for four? Would you and Doug…um…I mean, like to join us?”

  Quinn shook his head. “We wouldn’t intrude. I’ll…” Then his gaze went to Juliette. To Trinidad’s horror, the woman stood and swayed as if she was going to faint, her face paling to the color of marshmallow cream. Trinidad rushed over with Noodles, but Quinn got there first. He guided Juliette back into a chair.

  “Deep breath,” he said calmly. “Doug…” he started, but Doug had already fetched a glass of water.

  “You two are amazing,” Trinidad couldn’t help but say.

  Quinn lifted a shoulder, keeping his attention on Juliette. “I had some problems when I got back from Afghanistan. Doug learned just what to do, didn’t you, Doug?”

  Doug nodded.

  Juliette sipped the water, which seemed to revive her. “Thank you. I’m so sorry. I was reading the news report again about Kevin… It was such a shock. We…we argued because I found out he was dating someone else. Last time I saw him, he brought me a gift, as an apology. I threw it on the floor. I was so angry.”

  Trinidad remembered the crunchy bit she’d stepped on at Juliette’s office. It had indeed been a peace offering from Kevin.

  Tears pooled in Juliette’s eyes. “I guess it was normal, people do date more than one person at a time, but he didn’t tell me, and, after Gabe…” She gulped. “After we got married, I found out he had been pursuing me while he was still married to you, and then I discovered he had another ex-wife neither of us knew about…” Her eyes beseeched Trinidad. “You understand, right? You get why I was so angry and hurt?”

  Trinidad took her hand. They stayed locked together for a moment, fingers clutching, a bridge building between them that Trinidad somehow knew would be unbreakable. “Yes, I do understand,” she said, through a thickening in her throat. “Completely.”

  Juliette sighed and followed Quinn’s suggestion to sip the water again. “I think the chief believes I had something to do with Kevin’s death. We…had a few disagreements recently. My last argument with him was pretty public, and she’s not my biggest fan to begin with. I haven’t spoken very highly of her brother around town. I should have been more discreet.”

  Trinidad shook her head. “None of that makes you guilty of Kevin’s murder.”

  “I feel guilty, anyway, about my last words to Kevin.” Juliette teared up. “I feel so alone. Like everyone suspects me. But I didn’t hurt him; I never would.”

  Loneliness was something Trinidad was painfully familiar with. She was reminded when she saw couples hand in hand, chasing after little ones, building families like the one she’d dreamed of. “You’re not alone,” she blurted out. “I will help you get through this.”

  Juliette’s eyes rounded in wonder. “You will?”

  The naked vulnerability in Juliette’s face struck her to the core. She found herself nodding, determination filling her. “Absolutely.” She said the words that rose straight from her heart. “I understand how you felt, and Kevin should have been honest with you.”

  Finally, Juliette sighed and took the coffee cup, holding it as if it were a life preserver.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot. I need a friend right now.”

  A friend. There was something very sweet about that word.

  Quinn patted her shoulder. “Doug and I are happy to help, too, if there’s anything we can do.”

  Doug nodded soberly.

  Trinidad’s emotions swelled at the kindness. “See? It’s going to be okay.”

  Juliette blew out a breath. “I sure hope so, but I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

  They chatted for a few minutes until the door banged open and Tanya Grant, Kevin’s motorcycle companion, stalked in. Her eyes slitted as she spotted them and strode over. She wore low heels and a breezy dress of pale sage that brought out her emerald irises. She glowered at Juliette. “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Juliette’s mouth fell open. “What are you accusing me of?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “Ms. Grant,” Stan called from behind the counter. “May I show you to a table? Make you an espresso?”

  Tanya ignored him. “I know you followed me and Kevin when we drove to the lake Tuesday night, Juliette. I heard the angry message you left on his phone. You hated that he was going to dump you for me.” Her lower lip quivered. “Why did you have to kill him?”

  Juliette gulped audibly. “I didn’t even know you were together until a few days ago. He said you’d dated, but you’d broken up. Yes, I followed you, I’ll admit it, but I didn’t hurt him.”

  “Liar. You wanted him for yourself, and you couldn’t stand that he picked me, so you killed him.”

  Juliette bit her lip, seemingly unable to reply.

  Trinidad finally found her voice. “That’s ridiculous. You have no right to barge in here and accuse Juliette of murder. She would never do such a thing.”

  Tanya glared. “And you would know this how? You just blew into town a few weeks ago to open your little ice cream store. Or maybe you think you know her just because you two were dumb enough to marry the same crook. That gives you a sisterly bond or something?”

  Trinidad was too shocked to rustle up a response.

  Quinn moved forward, palms up. “This isn’t the place, Tanya.”

  “You shut up, Quinn. Juliette’s a murderer, and the sooner everyone knows it, the better.”

  A cry escaped Juliette, and Trinidad moved closer, fearing she might faint. She rubbed comforting circles onto Juliette’s back.

  Quinn opened his mouth just as Chief Bigley marched through the door, took in the cluster of people, and beelined over.

  “Chief,” Tanya said, a smile of satisfaction forming on her lipsticked mouth. “Perfect.”

  “Ms. Grant, I’d like you to step outside for a moment, please,” Chief Bigley said.

  “No way,” Tanya spat. “Juliette killed Kevin, and I’m not leaving until she admits it.”

  The chief seemed to grow a few inches taller as she stared Tanya down. “I wouldn’t want to have to take you out of here forcibly, Ms. Grant,” she said quietly. “But I will if you give me no other choice. I’m not asking you to leave. I’m telling you.”

  Tanya held her angry stare for a moment longer before she whirled to the door. Doug drew close to the counter to avoid any contact as she hustled past.

  “I’ll speak to you soon,” the chief called to Tanya before she slammed out.

  “Thank you so much, Chief,” Trinidad said. Trinidad handed Juliette a napkin to wipe the fresh tears that had begun to pour down her cheeks. “Tanya just ran in here, spouting wild accusations.”

  “Not so wild.” Bigley’s tone was infused with an odd inflection.

  Quinn, Trinidad, and Juliette all jerked their heads to look at her. Even the unflappable Stan seemed startled at the chief’s words.

  “The initial reports from the crime scene came back,” Chief Bigley said. Her gaze locked on Juliette’s, her expression hard as steel. “Juliette Carpenter, I’m arresting you for the murder of Kevin Heartly.”

  Chapter Four

  Seconds ticked by in excruciatingly slow motion. Th
e chief walked Juliette outside. Trinidad and Quinn followed as if in a trance. Noodles stayed inside with Doug who seemed uncertain whether to stay or follow. On the way, Bigley read Juliette her Miranda rights.

  Trinidad’s brain clouded as if she was trying to surface from the bottom of a deep, murky pool. What was happening? She must be in the grip of a nightmare.

  You have the right to remain silent…

  Anything you say can be used against you…

  Lawyer…

  Questioning…

  The snap of the handcuffs securing Juliette’s wrists jarred Trinidad out of her stupor. “But, Chief…” she started.

  Chief Bigley ignored her, guiding Juliette into the back seat of the squad car.

  Juliette gulped in some air and looked at Trinidad full-on. Her voice came out in a hoarse croak. “I was jealous and spiteful, I will admit that. I was furious at Kevin, and I should have behaved differently, but I did not harm him in any way. And that is the absolute truth.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Trinidad considered the woman before her—young, pretty, hurt—fear tumbling across her face in rolling waves. Before Gabe, Trinidad had thought she was a good judge of character, able to read the hearts of the people she met in spite of their exteriors. Her father always said she was a “wise, old soul” when it came to people. She felt, down in her bones, that Juliette was being honest, but could she still trust herself to make a judgment when she’d been so profoundly fooled? She tried to reach back to the time before Gabe, to feel the confidence in herself again, the courage to believe in someone.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she let the words out. “Juliette, it is going to be okay. I believe you, and I am going to help you however I can.”

  An unsteady flicker of a smile showed on Juliette’s face before the chief closed the door. Quinn and Trinidad stood silent as the chief’s car vanished in the distance.

  “I can’t fathom what just happened,” Quinn said.

  “Me neither. Juliette is not a killer.”