by Dana Mentink
“Me too.”
“I mean, what in the world could be so darn valuable and yet stay hidden in a small town like this?”
“I wish I knew.”
All she had to show for today’s sleuthing adventure was twelve cents and a whole lot of chagrin. Some detective.
***
Still burning with embarrassment over her sleuthing fail, she made the drive to the jail with fatigue gnawing at her all the way. Was the tiredness due to the hours standing in the food truck? Worry at finding Quinn injured? The sprint down the theater aisle? General wear and tear? She sighed, figuring it didn’t matter anyway. At least coconut ice cream, silken chocolate, and a stack of waffle cones were added to the list of what was ready for the grand opening. Rows of glistening milkshake goblets lay awaiting their Freakshake transformations, and the shop was shining from pink tile floor to newly painted ceiling. If Papa managed to get his hands on the mangoes, she would prepare the base tomorrow morning, and it would be ready just in time to roll out the tropical delicacies. If nothing else went right for the foreseeable future, at least her beautiful shop was in order.
She’d left the twins chopping macadamia nuts and prepping the additional outdoor tables they’d added to the patio area. Two more days… The thought both thrilled and petrified her. The Shimmy and Shake Shop felt like a long-awaited child, a longed-for miracle. But along with the thrill came a good measure of guilt.
Look what your friend is going through, and you haven’t found one solitary thing to help her prove her innocence. What’s more, Trinidad had no idea what to try next or who to talk to. Sherlock Holmes, she was not.
She went through the jail security check and waited in the cheerless visitor room. She’d already fed one of the mundane coins Cora had given her plus a handful more into the vending machine to retrieve the only things left, a small bag of chips and a roll of Lifesavers. At least the ill-fated candy machine adventure had helped in some small way.
Juliette looked even thinner, downright gaunt, when she settled into the chair opposite Trinidad. Her hair was dull, her skin tone slightly grayish under the fluorescent lights. She didn’t smile. Instead, she blinked hard. A tear escaped anyway, and she paused for a moment before she spoke. “Stan told me what happened to Quinn at the open house. Are you sure he’s okay?”
“Very sure.”
“It’s just too crazy. I can’t believe the photos are gone.” She stuck her thumbnail in her mouth, but it was already bitten to the quick.
“The good thing is we know someone is worried about what might have been on those photos.”
“But will it persuade Chief Bigley that I didn’t kill Kevin?”
Trinidad tried to present the facts in a positive light. “I think we angered the chief by not sharing about the photos in the first place. I’m sorry about that. The good news is she’s still investigating, so that’s something to take hold of. Are you sure you can’t remember anything else that was in that storage unit?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve had hours and hours to think about nothing else. Honestly, all I can remember is junk. Cardboard boxes filled with old magazines, half-melted candles, a planter.” She straightened. “Wait a minute. There was an old red candy machine, from the fifties, maybe, with a glass top and a slot for the coins.”
“That one’s a dead end, I’m afraid. It’s at the theater, but there’s nothing of value in it. What about Vince? Did he know what was in the storage unit?”
“I don’t think so. He was always running to class or his other job.”
“If Lupin had something in his unit, something priceless, wouldn’t Sonny have identified it?” She was thinking about the treasure books he’d swiped from Lupin’s garage. “Between him and Candy, I would think one of them might notice something of value.”
“I don’t know about Candy, but Sonny isn’t the fastest car on the racetrack,” Juliette said. “He stole something from Tanya’s, Kevin once told me. Turned out to be a reproduction, and he couldn’t get much for it. Almost got himself arrested by Mr. Grant, except Tanya threw a fit with her father to keep him from pressing charges. All that drama, and he didn’t even know what to swipe that would be worth anything.”
“But he avoided jail.”
“Maybe a stint behind bars would do him good.” She shuddered. “It gives you plenty of opportunity to think about your life choices.”
“Could be it was something he didn’t realize was valuable until after he sent it to the flea market. When he figured it out, he might have gone to Kevin’s looking for it and killed him. Or maybe I’m completely off base and it was Warren.”
“Warren Wheaton?”
“I heard he had gambling debts, and he’s been skulking around looking for the treasure. He was at the open house, the Store Some More, and he was there when I found the…uh…Kevin. He admits he was sneaking around Store Some More but he says someone else was there, too, before you arrived and scared them off.”
She frowned. “Hmmm. It sounds like he’s a liar, and maybe he wouldn’t turn up his nose at breaking and entering, but it’s hard to picture him as a violent type.”
“People do strange things when there’s money involved. I just wish we could figure out what Lupin’s treasure was in the first place. It might give us some direction.”
“Vince Jr. might be able to help you if it’s a precious painting or the like. Between you and me, he’s a complete dweeb, but he knows a lot. If you get any ideas, you can run it by him. He…really wants to help me.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, he’s anxious to come visit you. Can you put him on your list?”
She shook her head. “Um, I’d rather not. I’m really grateful to him and all for taking care of the shop, but…” She sighed. “I think he has feelings for me. He looks at me like I’m some sort of princess, and it drives me crazy. He’s barely twenty-one, and I’m knocking on thirty.” Her lip curled.
“Do you think it’s possible that he got jealous of Kevin and killed him?”
She giggled. “I don’t think he could kill anything. Not exactly a strong specimen. We were cleaning out a unit one time and a rat shot past us. He screamed louder than I did. Plus, he knew I’d broken up with Kevin, so I don’t see what he would gain from murdering him.”
“Maybe it had something to do with this mysterious valuable. He killed Kevin to get it.”
“It’s possible, but it’s also just as likely there is nothing to be found.” Her sigh seemed to come from deep down inside her. “I am too tired to think it through anymore. Anyone could have done it, but all the evidence points to me and only me.” Despair washed over her face.
“We’ll find something. We must be making somebody nervous if they stole the photos from Quinn.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anybody else hurt, and you have a store to open. I know how much it means to you. That’s where your focus should be.”
There was a gravity underscoring her words. Trinidad went to snatch up her hand for a reassuring squeeze, but the guard shook his head.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Juliette said.
“How can I not? You look so discouraged. We are going to get you out of this somehow. Try not to lose hope.”
She shook her head. “It’s hard not to, Trinidad. I know this town, at least a little bit. I am sure plenty of people have decided I got what I deserved.”
Trinidad remembered the comments at the memorial. She tried for a bright smile. “Maybe a few, but not everybody thinks that. There are plenty of people who…”
She didn’t seem to hear. “I told Stan I want to deed you my house.”
“What?” Trinidad gaped. “There’s no need for that. You’re going to be out of here and back into your life, Juliette.”
“I wish, but it’s not looking good, is it?” Her mouth pinched white at the corners.
“I have no one. My parents are gone, no husband, no kids. I want you to have my house.”
“No, no, Juliette. Please, don’t say things like that.” Trinidad forced a smile. “We’ve still got all kinds of leads to follow.”
“Like what?”
Called out on her fib, Trinidad fumbled for a reply. “Well, um…”
Juliette smiled. “I love you for trying, I really do. You’re the best friend I think I’ve ever had along with Bonnie. No one else would stick their neck out for me like you’ve done, but I have to be practical. I might not ever be free again.”
“No…”
She held up a trembling hand. “Bonnie has property and a home for Felice. You have only that ridiculous tiny rental house. My place would be bigger and better for you and Noodles.”
Trinidad slapped her palm on the tabletop. “Juliette, I am not going to listen to this. You are going to get out of jail.”
Desperation shone on her face. “I want to believe that.” Her voice broke on the last word.
“Stan is whipping up a crackerjack defense for you, even as we speak.”
She pressed her lips together and stood. “I’m going to ask Stan to work on the house and put my affairs in order, find out how to sell Store Some More. Please thank Vince for me. He’s a good kid. I hope he gets out of school and moves on with his life at some point. Bonnie will be back from her trip next week, and you two should talk. Tell her everything, okay? Tell her I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Juliette…” Trinidad called, but Juliette was already being led away by the guard. The chips and Lifesavers still lay untouched on the table.
Chapter Sixteen
How was she going to save Juliette? Trinidad was rapidly running out of time and ideas.
The drive back to the shop seemed endless, her nerves quivering. Her heart grieved for her friend, but she could think of nothing to do to help the case. The photos were gone, the candy machine a big, fat dead end. Every feeble sleuthing attempt had turned into a complete bust.
Noodles greeted her when she entered the shop.
Diego was wiping down the tables. He beamed excitement. “Hey, Miss Jones. I heard you broke into the theater. Did you find something?”
“I did not break in,” she said firmly. “The door was open, and we didn’t find anything.” Except a lying Warren and the remains of a real burglary attempt.
His excitement ebbed. “Oh. Too bad. My friends are, like, really impressed that I work for a cat burglar.”
She heaved out a breath. Now she was a cat burglar.
“What is this about a burglar?” Papa emerged from the back room with an apron tied around his waist and a net struggling to contain his thatch of hair.
“Hi, Papa. Nothing to worry about. What are you up to?”
He gestured proudly to the bowl of golden mango chunks. “I have been peeling, you see.”
“Oh, Papa!” She hugged him, bowl and all, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Where in the world did you get these beautiful mangoes?”
He shrugged, going for modesty. “I have people, you know, in Miami, my good friend Farhan. He grows the most delectable mangoes. I phoned him, and…” He gestured with the paring knife. “Voilà!”
Carlos came in from the front porch with a crate of mangoes. “Here’s another one, just delivered.”
“Wow,” Trinidad said. “That’s a lot of mangoes.”
Papa grinned. “Farhan is a generous man.”
Trinidad directed Carlos to stack the crate in the corner for the time being. The scent of mango was so tantalizing her mouth began to water. Since Papa had already chopped the fruit, it was an easy matter to add simple syrup and a bit of lime juice and set the gorgeous golden mixture to churn.
Diego unboxed the tiny umbrellas, and Trinidad added the half dozen pineapples that would be perfectly wedged and sliced by Thursday.
The twins worked with their usual energy until their quitting time. They let themselves out the front door. Papa excused himself as well. “I am going to chat with Pastor Zapata over at the coffee shop. He’s taking me to see Three Egg Lake, and then he has offered to make me an authentic meal of mole and roasted corn with tres leches cake for dessert. His wife’s specialty.” He gestured. “He said you are welcome to join in. Can you escape for a while?”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll meet you at the house later.” She glanced at Noodles who had been patiently waiting to leave the shop. “Papa, would you mind taking Noodles with you? He could really use a change of scenery, and Pastor Zapata is always real nice about people bringing their dogs to church. He’s a dog lover, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“I’d be happy to.” He snapped a leash on Noodles who leapt up, tail wagging.
“Just keep an eye on your dinner, okay?” She handed Papa a plastic bag of kibble. “He believes he should have people food.”
Papa eyed the kibble. “I think I might agree with him.” His smile dimmed. “But, Trina, what is this about a burglary?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, Papa.”
“The same ‘nothing’ I should not be worrying about knowing that one of Hooligan’s ex-wives was arrested for murder? I’ve heard all about this in the coffee shop, you know.”
Hooligan was the name Papa had given Gabe since he vowed never again to utter the given name of the man who had betrayed his granddaughter. She hoped Gabe never happened to find himself crossing the street in front of Papa’s Bel Air. She was not surprised that her grandfather had found out the sordid details of Juliette’s plight, and she had a feeling she knew where the conversation was headed.
“Juliette is my friend. She didn’t kill anyone. I’m trying to help her prove it.”
His look darkened. “Trina, this is too much.” He waved a hand. “This town, a murder, burglaries… You should come home to Miami with your family.”
She kissed his cheek. “I am going to be just fine. I promise.”
“But you’re not a detective, my girl. Your passion is the kitchen. How is that going to help Juliette?” He lowered his voice. “Besides, the way she was treated by Hooligan…” He grimaced. “Might it have made her the kind who would kill?”
She took his hands and squeezed. “No, Papa. It didn’t. No more than it made me a killer.”
His earnest eyes searched hers. “You’re sure about your friend? Very sure?”
“Positive.”
He looked at her for another long moment, and then he nodded. “All right. If you are certain about her, then I am, too.”
Heart brimming, she hugged him, then steered him toward the door.
“But Miami is still…”
She spoke over him. “Noodles is hankering for that outing. Keep the air conditioning on for him, okay? And, sometimes, he likes to open the fridge and serve up random jars of pickles, so look lively.” She waved until he guided the Bel Air out of sight, then she went back inside to tidy up.
Before she got around to locking up again, Vince Jr. pushed in, a backpack on his shoulder and a crate of mangoes in his arms.
“This was on your porch,” he said.
“Another one? I wonder how many Papa asked for.” She took the mangoes and added it to the other crate. What she was going to do with Farhan’s too generous supply of fruit?
“I heard you broke into the theater with Warren,” Vince said.
“No, I didn’t,” she explained again. “I walked through the door, which Warren had unlocked prior to my arrival, but someone else was trying to break in.”
His eyes went wide. “Wow. When it rains, it pours. Who?”
“I don’t know. Apparently, Warren scared them off.”
“Fingerprints?”
“That’s for the chief to work out.”
He nodded and then grinned. “You were looking for a rare co
in in the candy machine, weren’t you?”
She flushed. “Who told you that?”
“Like…everybody at the coffee shop.”
The ruthlessly efficient gossip wheel. “There was no valuable coin to be found.”
He snickered. “I’m not surprised. Just because it is an antique doesn’t mean there was anything valuable underneath that old chipped red paint. People can be so naive. Did you find anything else?”
“No, but Juliette said I should ask you. You’ve been at the Store Some More and the theater. Have you noticed anything that might be worth a lot of money?”
“Juliette said to ask me?” He puffed up a bit. “I do know a lot about art history. I can’t say I have too much expertise about coins, but I could find out.”
“I’m not convinced the treasure is a coin. It might be something completely different.”
He sniffed. “If there really is a treasure in the first place. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in Sprocket. Nothing happens in Sprocket.”
Except burglaries, murder, etc. “Just for the sake of argument, have you seen anything that might be valuable at the theater?”
“Well, I do advise Cora about her props and things. You know, to make sure they are correct with the time period and all. They buy all this junk from the flea market.”
“Do you think any of it could be worth a bundle?”
He shook his head. “No. I would have spotted that.”
“Did you get a chance to look in Edward Lupin’s storage unit?”
“No. Never did. I wish I had, though. And I only got to the flea market after the remainders were picked over. I could have recognized a valuable piece in a heartbeat.” He droned on. “My real expertise is painting, calligraphy, pottery, that kind of thing. Sure, though, I would be able to spot a rare coin, too, if it came to that.”
Vanity, thy name is youth, Trinidad thought. “Did you ever see Warren poking around Store Some More?”
Vince pursed his lips. “I think he might have come by once to ask about storage, but I don’t think he actually rented a unit. Hey, did you ask Juliette to put me on her visitor list? I want to go today. One of my classes was canceled, so I have some time off.”