by Dana Mentink
“Yes, she is.”
Trinidad had forgotten all about Tanya who was watching the proceedings. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as she turned to them, arms crossed in front of her like a shield.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have handled it like that, especially in a public place, but I was so… I mean, he’s dead, and I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives.” Her mouth trembled and tears shone on her lashes. “Stupid me. I thought I’d found my soul mate.”
Trinidad inhaled a steadying breath. “I’m sorry for your loss, truly, but Juliette didn’t kill him.”
Tanya’s brow furrowed. “Look, I know you’re trying to befriend her, but you need to see the truth. She found out that Kevin was still dating me. He tried to let her down easy, even went to see her at her work yesterday morning, but she couldn’t deal with it. He told me she threw something at him and demanded he leave. She left an angry phone message on his cell. The breakup probably tipped her over the edge after what happened with her low-life ex-husband.”
Trinidad stayed quiet for a moment, fighting for control. “She was upset. Betrayal will do that to a person, no matter what their history.”
Tanya’s lips tightened. “Juliette will go to prison for what she did. If you were smart, you’d be careful about befriending a woman like that. After all, what do you really know about her?” Tanya walked away, shoulders hunched, arms still wrapped around her torso.
“This is unreal,” Trinidad said, her body beginning to shake.
Quinn put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go back inside, okay? You need to sit down, and there’s someone we should talk to right away.”
“Who?”
“Stan.”
Trinidad was momentarily confused until she remembered. The person Juliette most needed in her corner now was a lawyer, and Stan was the only lawyer in Sprocket as far as she knew.
Quinn held the door open as they returned to the coffee shop. Noodles sat by Doug’s side, accepting worried pets from the man. Stan greeted her with a pair of tongs in one hand and a tray of pecan tarts in the other. Every patron in the shop stared at them, obviously having been riveted by Tanya’s outburst and Juliette’s arrest.
Stan’s sister Meg hustled up, the customary pencil tucked behind her ear. “I’ll man the helm. You will need some privacy.”
Stan acknowledged her with a grateful pat on the arm. “Meg will take your orders,” he said to the patrons. “Do try the strawberry tartlets, won’t you?”
“Can you watch Noodles, Doug?” Quinn called.
Doug replied with one firm nod.
With that, Stan ushered Trinidad and Quinn to a tiny office. “I believe I know what you are after, and I must tell you that my lawyering skills are rusty. I’ve been spending more time with lemon bars than litigation, though my license is still current.”
Quinn chuckled. “You helped me work through that incident when that guy tried to sue us for knocking over his fence with our truck.” He shot a look at Trinidad. “We didn’t do it, by the way, and Doug didn’t appreciate all the profanity from the man. I sure couldn’t stomach him upsetting my brother.” There was hint of ferocity in his words. Quinn would not accept anyone mistreating Doug, she surmised. “Anyway,” he continued, “Stan worked it all out, and it didn’t cost us anything. He’s a genius.”
Stan waved the praise away. “I appreciate the compliment, but it is a long way from a possible misdemeanor to a murder defense.”
Vince Jr. appeared in the office doorway, quieting the threesome. His arms were filled with books, and there was an unmistakable scent of garlic and basil emanating from his Pizza Heaven T-shirt. He risked letting go of the book pile with one hand to hike up his pants. “What’s going on? I just saw Juliette in the back of Bigley’s squad car. Meg said not to come back here, but I had to know.”
Trinidad figured they had to give Juliette’s part-time storage facility employee some sort of information. “She has been accused of something she didn’t do. She needs a lawyer.”
His eyes rounded to Oreo size. “Is she being arrested? For what?” He blinked. “Is this about Heartly’s murder? I heard all the gossip at the pizza shop, people saying she was spurned in love or whatever. No way was she involved with a murder. What can I do? How can I help?”
“We’ll let you know,” Stan said with a reassuring smile.
“But I’m sure I can do something. I know I can.”
Trinidad looked at him closer. There was something in his words, a hint of desperation that made her think Vince might have feelings for his employer that exceeded the bounds of a work relationship. “I’m sure she’s really going to appreciate that, Vince. If there’s anything you can do to keep things going at Store Some More, when you’re not working at the pizza shop, I know that would mean a lot to her.”
He nodded hard, shoulders lifting. “Okay. I can do that. I’ll keep track of the mail and bills and answer phone calls and stuff.” He scribbled his cell number on a paper napkin and thrust it at Trinidad. “Call me if you think of anything else.”
He seemed hesitant to leave, but Stan rose and eased him out the door.
Vince left with more vehement promises to help.
Stan sighed. “I have to be going as well. Juliette will need a friendly face when she’s finished with booking.”
Booking. Trinidad swallowed hard. She knew what that meant from having been a courthouse stenographer. Her new friend would be fingerprinted, undergo a DNA swab, face a humiliating body search, have her photo taken, and relinquish all her personal belongings. Then she would be locked in a holding cell, a cold, cement room with a stainless steel sink and a commode in plain view. Goosebumps prickled Trinidad’s skin.
“Bail…?” she squeaked.
Stan stopped her with a gesture. “Sometime in the next twenty-four hours, the judge will hear her bail request. There’s nothing we can do to speed up the process. For now, we’ll all need to be patient. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve met with her.”
Trinidad’s stomach heaved as she watched Stan go. She felt Quinn’s palm on her back. “Speaking of which, is there anything I can do for you?”
She gulped in a breath. “Tell me you don’t believe Juliette is a killer.”
He paused, head cocked, blue eyes glimmering. “For what it’s worth, I think she’s completely innocent.”
Trinidad let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I am so glad to hear you say that.”
“But my opinion isn’t worth much.”
“We have to dig up something to help her, an alibi or witness or even someone with a motive to kill him besides Juliette.”
He frowned. “I don’t really know how to go about rooting out important evidence. I’m a nut farmer, which doesn’t really lend itself to the detective stuff. Before that I was an Army mechanic who barely made it through high school. Not real well qualified for sleuthing.”
“Well, I’m an ice cream vendor, so I don’t have the credentials either. But I am going back to my shop, and maybe something will come to me. I do my best work surrounded by sugar and cream.” She hugged herself. “Besides, right now I can’t think of anything else to do here.” She noticed Vince had left a textbook on the coffee shop table. She gathered it up, figuring she could drop it at the pizza place, since she didn’t know where he lived.
Quinn shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe we can brainstorm together. Want some help at the store?”
She let out a gusty sigh. “I would love it. The twins aren’t able to work today, so I’m on my own.”
Truthfully, she did not want to be alone to wrestle with her thoughts in solitude. The shock of what had transpired was too much to be borne in solitude. They let themselves out of the shop, Doug holding the door for their exit. She’d expected Noodles to be right behind, but he wasn
’t. She led them out and saw him trotting up the sidewalk, the forgotten bag of banana squares clenched in his teeth.
“Thanks, Noodles,” she said, carrying the bag inside.
Quinn watched in wonder. “Your dog brought you the treats?”
“In his younger days, he was trained as a service dog, but he flunked out. His life goal is to be helpful, and I never know what form that will take. He gets confused, but he always means well.”
She stored the treats for later.
Job done, Noodles flopped on his cushion in front of the counter, and she donned an apron, handing one to Quinn. Doug settled in at a small table and began to use the paper cutter she’d left there to trim the flyers.
“Oh, thank you, Doug. The boys didn’t have time to get that job done.”
Doug nodded, but did not look at her.
Quinn took the wooden spoon she offered and stirred the whole milk, heavy cream, sugar, and scraping of vanilla bean she added to the pot while she set it on the burner to heat.
The rituals of the kitchen soothed her. While Quinn kept an eye on the warming cream, she combined eggs, sugar, and salt. She was deep in thought about Juliette when she realized Quinn was talking to her.
“Oh, sorry. What was that?”
“I said this ice cream business is more of a science than I realized.”
“The difficult part is making the base. After that, it’s up to the machinery.” When the milk mixture was almost simmering, she removed it from the heat. “Has to cool now.”
He sniffed. “Smells good. How do we know when it’s cool enough?”
She handed him a rubber glove. “Stick your finger in there for ten seconds. If you can stand it, it’s perfect.”
He laughed. “And I thought nut farming was difficult.” When he pronounced the temperature tolerable, she directed him to add it, in a slow stream, to the eggs to temper them before she dumped it all back into the milk mixture.
“Stir in an ‘s’ pattern,” she directed Quinn.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how my grandpa always did it. Papa Luis said if you pick any other letter, it doesn’t turn out right.”
He grinned. “I think I’d like to meet your Papa Luis.”
“Maybe when all this settles down and I get the shop up and running, he can come for a visit. He’d like you, I think.”
She realized he would, too. Papa Luis appreciated hard work, humility, and a deep commitment to family. Of course, there were few people Papa could not get along with.
When the custard was done, she poured it through the funnel into the ice cream mixer and started the timer for ten minutes. The machine spun along with her thoughts. What was Juliette enduring? Kevin’s family? Was there a killer tucked in amongst the people of Sprocket, or had it been a crime of opportunity by a stranger passing through?
After the timer dinged, Quinn held the stainless steel container while Trinidad scraped out the ice cream. Before she put it in the walk-in freezer, she dished them all up some of the delicate concoction.
“Thinking food,” she said. “Consider it soft serve.”
Doug cupped the paper bowl and admired the glistening, white dessert, speckled with flecks from the vanilla pods. His whole demeanor was alive with wonder. It reminded her of the moment when Papa Luis would open the top of the old, battered churn, and they would dive in with spoons while her mother wasn’t looking.
Quinn rolled his eyes after a mouthful and his reaction made her heart beat faster. “Fantastic. Best I’ve tasted, and, believe me, I’ve packed down a boatload of vanilla ice cream since Doug came to live with me.”
She chuckled. “When was that?”
“About twelve years ago. I thought I was going to be a lifer in the Army, but, during my last tour, my dad died, and Mom couldn’t manage Doug’s care on her own. So he went to a group home.”
Doug stared at his ice cream, but he suddenly grew very still.
Quinn laid a finger, feather light, on his brother’s arm just for a moment. “It wasn’t a good fit. As soon as I came back here, I moved him in with me. There’s a little ramshackle structure on the farm property we fixed up for the two of us. Mom passed a month later.” He blinked, and she thought she caught a glimmer of moisture in his eyes. “I sure do miss her; we both do. We had a lot to learn about each other, and it was rough going in spots, but we’re past that now. Doug and I are a great team, aren’t we?” He nodded to his brother. “We’ve kept the farm running and even turned a small profit.”
Doug scooped another spoonful into his mouth without responding.
“Got siblings, Trinidad?” Quinn said.
“One brother. He lives with my grandpa and my mother in Miami.” When he wasn’t creating havoc elsewhere, she didn’t add. “He’s a free spirit. I always admired his fearlessness, but he gave my parents fits over the years. My dad’s gone now, so it’s just Papa, Mother, Yolo, and me.”
She felt the ache at being apart from them. They fell into silence until the ice cream was all gone.
“You know,” Quinn said slowly, “I’ve been thinking about Juliette’s situation. I don’t like to gossip, but I remembered just now that Tanya dated someone else here in town for a short while. Actually, it might have been while she was seeing Kevin.”
“Who?”
“Guy named Sonny Petrakis. He owns a painting business. Friend of Kevin’s, I think. High school buddies, maybe.”
“Is it possible that Sonny killed Kevin because he was jealous?”
“Possible, I guess. From what I hear, Sonny upset Tanya’s father somehow and got himself banned from the house.”
“How did that come about?”
“I don’t know the particulars. Makes me think, though.”
“Think what?”
Quinn pursed his lips in thought. “If Kevin found out Tanya was unfaithful to him, maybe they got into some sort of altercation and…”
“And Tanya killed him. But wouldn’t she have left some evidence behind?” Trinidad mulled it over.
“Far-fetched, I guess.”
“At least it is something to consider.” Could Tanya’s insistence that Juliette was the killer be a smoke screen? Could she really lie that convincingly? You should know people can be brilliant liars, Trin, she thought sourly.
Quinn looked at the wall clock, a cheerful item with a cone-shaped pendulum and each hour represented by a different colored scoop of ice cream. “Thanks for the dessert. Doug and I’d better head back to the farm.”
“My pleasure. Thank you both for your help,” she said.
He tipped an imaginary cap. “Anytime, ice cream lady.” His smile wavered. “People in Sprocket are good folks. Sorry your introduction to town has been so rough.”
More like murderous, she thought, as she watched the door close behind them.
Chapter Five
Since Noodles was not exactly a morning pup, she coaxed him to the Shimmy and Shake Shop Friday before sunup with a full arsenal of treats. In order to sweeten the canine pot, she had replaced his thin dog cushion with a yard sale beanbag chair, which she set up in the front counter area. He immediately flopped into the squishy depths and began to snore. Stan had texted late the previous night, asking her to stop by the coffee shop before it opened. She hoped it might possibly be good news, but her gut told her she was dreaming.
Vince’s forgotten textbook still lay on the counter. Scooping it up, she hurried to Full of Beans, rapping on the front window. Stan unlocked the door and greeted her with a genial smile and a cup of coffee.
“Did you talk to Juliette?”
He nodded. “She’s holding up okay, under the circumstances. I have accepted a $1 fee, and I am officially representing her.”
“What about bail?”
He frowned. “The judge is not inclined to issue bail in
this situation.”
“What? Why? She has no prior history of violence.”
“He believes her to be a flight risk.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He shrugged. “There are some things we can influence. This judge is not one of them. Juliette’s arraignment is in a couple of days, where we will enter our not guilty plea. A trial date will be set, and we will begin several rounds of pre-trial conferences to discuss admissible evidence, witnesses, etc. From there, the pre-trial hearing…”
“Stan,” she wailed. “This could take months.”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“I want to see her.”
“She submitted your name for a jail visit. I can describe the particulars later, but let me tell you about your new job before…”
The knock on the shop door startled them both.
“We will have to wing it, as you Yanks say.” Stan unlocked it to allow Chief Bigley to enter in sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“My morning off,” she explained. “On my way for a run, but I thought we might as well chat and get it over with. This is a favor to you, Stan.”
“Thank you for stopping by. I would greatly appreciate hearing on what grounds my client was arrested.”
“Your client? So that’s official now?”
“I am Juliette’s counsel, yes. We formalized our agreement a brief while ago at the jail.”
Bigley smiled and accepted the cup of coffee he handed her. “Well you’ve got to be the most polite lawyer I’ve ever met.”
Trinidad secretly agreed.
Stan nodded graciously. “Mother always said there’s never an excuse to behave like less than a gentleman. In all my twenty years practicing law in New York, I have not had occasion to disappoint Mum.” He gestured to Trinidad. “This kind lady is acting as my paralegal.”
Paralegal? Was that the new job Stan hinted at? Well, she’d certainly observed enough of the justice system during her disaster with Gabe and her stenography work to make an honest stab at it. Embracing her role, she pulled a notepad from her purse, flipping past the first page, which was a running list of ice cream shop needs. She licked the tip of her pencil, just for effect.