Kernel of Truth (12 page)

“No. They're not. They call me
Sheriff
and one of the reasons they call me that is that I encourage our citizens not to go around threatening one another, especially when one of the townspeople has been killed and another has been attacked.” He looked at his watch. “You know Megan would have already poured me a second cup of coffee by now.”

“And it would have tasted like swill.” I heated mugs for us and put out the cream and sugar. “I wasn't threatening her person.”

“Good. Don't.” The timer went off. “Now can I have a cup of coffee?”

I poured the coffee and he took a sip. “Worth the wait?” I asked.

“You know it is. Stop showing off and explain to me about Jasper again. I always wondered how crazy he actually was.” He sat down at the table. “I caught him looking normal way too many times.”

I sat down and took a sip of my own coffee. I hadn't been showing off. I'd been doing what I'd been taught, doing things the right way. Which is when it occurred to me that showing people I wasn't a loser was a much better plan than stamping my feet and telling them that I wasn't one.

Now I just had to figure out how to do that.

*   *   *

After Dan left,
I had another surge of business with people picking up popcorn balls for desserts. I took another hour to close after that. I slogged through emptying the display cases.

No one else was around when I took everything out to the Dumpster. Being out there alone in the alley gave me another little frisson of fear. Someone had been out here looking at the backs of our stores, and it hadn't been Jasper. I wasn't sure if it was more frightening to think about a total stranger being back here or it being someone I'd known for years who had suddenly become violent. I wasn't crazy about either scenario.

I must have been more deeply lost in thought than I knew because when Allen Thompson turned down the alley in his utterly ridiculous Lexus I almost jumped out of my skin. He slowed down as he pulled abreast of me. “You okay, Rebecca?”

“I'm fine, Allen. What are you doing here?” I rubbed my arms.

“Oh, just cruising by.”

“In the alley? Because that's so scenic and all?” I mean, who wouldn't want to take a tour of the Dumpsters of Grand Lake?

He smiled that white-toothed politician's grin at me. “I'm the mayor of the whole town, sweetheart. Not just the storefronts.”

He was also the owner of most of the storefronts, including mine, but still not Coco's. “Are you sure there isn't a particular reason you're interested in this alley, Allen?”

“I—I don't know what you mean,” he stammered.

That was interesting. He looked guilty. The question was of what. Everybody knew he wanted to buy Coco's shop. He'd wanted to buy Barbara's, too. Now Coco was conveniently out of his way and possibly Barbara as well. “I was just thinking about Coco. The last time I saw her was Thursday around noon. We were going to have coffee the next morning. When was the last time you saw her, Allen?”

His brows furrowed. “I'm not sure. Probably Tuesday night at the chamber of commerce meeting. She almost never missed one of those.”

“Oh. So you didn't see her on Thursday at all?” I tried to make the question sound casual. “Didn't stop by to chat about business? About maybe her selling her shop?”

“Not that I recall.” He stopped. “What exactly are you implying, Rebecca?”

“I'm not implying anything. I'm just curious about why you've been hanging out around this alley so much lately and why you look so guilty when I ask you about it.” My hands balled into fists at my side.

“Rebecca, stick to making popcorn. Let Dan worry about what's happening in the alleys of Grand Lake.” He didn't wait for my response, just gunned his engine and drove away.

I watched him drive off to the other end of the alley and out onto Second Street and then went back inside. “I don't like that man, Sprocket. I don't trust him.”

I packaged up the leftover popcorn to leave for Tom—not that the misogynistic asshat deserved even my stale leftovers. Really, who spouted that kind of nonsense about women staying in their places anymore? Sadly, I knew the answer was more people than I cared to count. I was most decidedly not in California anymore.

My hand froze on the door handle for a second as I went to put the package on the back porch for him anyway. How much exactly did Tom dislike women who ran their own businesses? It didn't help that his shaggy face popped up into the glass frame of the door at just that second.

I leaped back with a gasp.

He scowled.

I looked down at the bags in my hand. It probably wouldn't do to piss him off any further if he was the person attacking women business owners. I opened the door and handed it to him. He grabbed the bag from me without a thank-you and left.

“You're welcome,” I called after his retreating back. He didn't turn around. He had a total lack of charm in common with Jasper. No wonder they were friends.

I locked up and we took our evening walk out to the lighthouse. I could feel the weather starting to turn and it seemed like it was getting darker faster. Or maybe that was my mood. It was too cold to sit and dangle our feet, so Sprocket and I contented ourselves with standing at the end of the pier and watching the sun slowly sink toward the water. I wrapped my sweater tighter around myself and turned to go back toward town.

And nearly ran headfirst into Garrett Mills. Or, more
accurately, he nearly ran headfirst into me, since he was the one who was actually running.

“Rebecca! Sorry!” He stopped, panting, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You're wearing shorts.” I'm an amazing observer. Almost nothing gets past me.

“Yeah. Dress for the second mile, right?” Garrett bent over slightly to rest his hands on his thighs, which were shockingly muscular. Again, I was only observing.

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Second mile? He was running more than one? I began to question his sanity, but it seemed rude to mention it. I resumed walking. Garrett fell into step beside me. “Are you stalking me, Counselor?” I asked.

“Maybe it's the other way around. Maybe you're stalking me. I run here every day,” he said. “There's something about the water . . .”

“You don't run here every day. I walk here every day and this is the first time I've seen you.” I was pretty sure I'd remember seeing him in his running gear, what with the muscles and all.

“I usually go in the morning, but it's getting a little dark and cold for my tastes. I thought I'd try after work instead, but I'm glad I ran into you. I heard about the, uh, thing between you and Jessica this afternoon.” His breathing was returning to something that sounded vaguely normal.

Fantastic. Of course he had. My conversation with Jessica must have run through the town gossip line like a hot knife through butter. “What? Did she take out an ad or something?”

He shook his head. “No, but word gets around. Did you really threaten her?”

“Is that what they're saying?” It figured. Jessica had timed it perfectly again. Everything she'd said to get under
my skin had been said without an audience or in that sweet reasonable tone of hers. I was the idiot who said whatever I was thinking no matter where I was or who I was with and tended to say it at a greater decibel level than was perhaps strictly necessary.

“Yeah. Along with something about you owing Coco money, and a few other choice tidbits.” He glanced over at me as we walked.

I tightened my jaw. “Whatever.”

He reached out to take my arm. “I know we haven't known each other very long and it's none of my business, but you might want to be careful.”

“Of what?” I stopped.

“Let's call it the court of public opinion. It can be pretty damaging. I've seen it.” Garrett dropped my arm and bounced lightly on his toes. It must have been getting cold for him with barely any clothes on.

“Yeah. I've been tried and convicted by this town before. It's nothing new.” I shrugged.

Garrett shook his head. “It is new, Rebecca. This isn't about the behavior of a distraught high school kid. Someone's dead.”

I turned away from him. “And there's no one with less reason than me to want it that way!”

“So you say.”

Great. Garrett didn't even know me and he thought I was making up the whole story about Coco and me going into business, too. I turned away from the lake and sped up my pace as I walked away, but Garrett easily matched it so I slowed down instead. “Thanks for the advice,” I said hoping that my voice showed exactly how very much it was not welcome.

“Call me if you want to talk,” he said, and then he was gone, jogging off into the sunset.

I watched him for a second. Do all joggers bound like that? He looked like he was actually having fun. “Haters gonna hate, Sprocket, but we're gonna show 'em, right?” I was starting to think of a way that I could. I'd show them all.

Only suckers waited for
permission.

One of the
first things Coco gave me when I came back to Grand Lake was a set of keys that included the keys to her house and to her shop. She had a set with my house keys and shop keys on them, too. Sprocket and I walked past POPS and Coco's Cocoas and directly to Coco's house a few blocks farther on.

The sun was starting to set and no one was out as we walked up the driveway and around to the back door. Most of Grand Lake was inside cleaning up after supper and getting ready to settle down to a nice night of television or reading or needlepoint. I waited as an SUV went past on the street and then we let ourselves into Coco's. I reached out to turn on the light and then thought better of it when I remembered the whole Barbara debacle. It would be better if no one knew we'd been here. I turned on the flashlight app on my phone instead.

I shone the light around the kitchen. A coffee mug and a bowl sat in the drying rack. I ran my fingers over them. Of
course Coco hadn't left dirty dishes in the sink. That wasn't her way. She liked things neat and tidy. She said it was part of why she'd never wanted to get married. She didn't want to deal with anyone else's mess.

I made my way to Coco's office and stood looking around for a minute or two. Where would she have kept the notes for the business plan she was writing for us? Where would I have kept them? That was easy. I would have kept them in some messy pile that was sliding off the edge of my desk. What would be the opposite of that?

There was a wire rack with folders slotted into it. I halfway remembered Coco putting whatever she'd been working on in that for easy access. I pulled out the first folder. It was a lot of stuff about insurance. The next folder had her will. My heart sank a little. Maybe Jessica was right. Maybe Coco had been tired and wanting to retire if she was reviewing her will. Maybe I had been pushing her too hard to start our new venture. Maybe the coffee we were supposed to have together on Friday had been for her to let me down easy. A whole “it's not your popcorn, it's my chocolate” kind of breakup talk.

I sat down in the chair behind Coco's desk. Then I saw Coco's to-do-list pad. I'd definitely know what she was planning if I could see what she'd put on that list, but the top page was blank. I held it up at an angle. There were some depressions on the top page. It would be easy enough to run a pencil over it gently to get at least a glimpse into what Coco was up to that last day.

I was rummaging through the desk for a pencil when I heard the sirens. They were probably heading over to one of the taverns a few blocks away. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself. Then the flashing lights strobed through the window to stripe Coco's study walls in red and blue. Okay. Maybe there was something happening on the block. Please
let there be something else happening on the block. I heard a car door slam.

I looked at Sprocket and said, “Not again.”

I could swear he laughed.

Then Coco's front door was slamming open and Huerta yelled, “Police! Coming in! Freeze with your hands up!”

I slipped the notepad into my purse and raised my hands.

At least this time Huerta put the window of the squad car down so Sprocket could hang his head out on our way to the station.

*   *   *

I glared at
Dan from across his desk. He glared back. “Bec, just tell me what you were doing in Coco's house. I'm sure we can clear this thing up and then we can all go home.”

“I'm not talking until my lawyer gets here.” I pressed my lips together and mimed locking them and throwing away the keys.

“Can't you charge her with being uncooperative or something?” Jessica asked from her seat over on the side of the office.

Jessica. Of course she was the one who called the cops on me. Again. Of course she had happened to be passing by her aunt's house and saw my flashlight beam inside. Sprocket growled a little deep down in his throat.

“And can't you make that animal wait someplace else?” Jessica pushed back in her chair away from my dog.

“Sprocket won't hurt anything and Rebecca does have the right to counsel, Jessica.” Dan rubbed his hand over his face. He looked tired. Good. I couldn't believe it when he told Huerta over the radio to arrest me. For the second time in the space of a week. Me. His best friend. The person who created a diversion when he stole his first candy bar. The person who
helped him glue down everything on Ms. Vigler's desk in sixth grade.

Come to think of it, Dan was kind of a juvenile delinquent back in the day. He probably didn't want to be reminded of it this minute, though.

“I suppose next you're going to tell me she has the right to break into my aunt's home and rifle through Coco's belongings at will.” Jessica sniffed.

“There was no breaking. There was only entering,” I protested. “I have a key.”

Dan's eyebrows went up and I remembered that whole “not talking until my lawyer got there” thing. Luckily, he showed up about then.

Garrett looked like we'd interrupted an evening of watching basketball on the couch. In fact, I was pretty sure we had. He had on jeans and a Case Western sweatshirt. His hair was still wet from a shower, but he had a five-o'clock shadow going. He looked decidedly un-corporate and not even a teensiest bit lawyerly. I was relieved, however, that he wasn't still wearing those shorts. They were distracting, and I needed to stay focused.

“Rebecca,” he said, sneakers squeaking on the tile floor. “If you'd wanted to see me again, you could have called. You didn't have to get arrested first.”

“Calling you wasn't my idea.” It actually hadn't been. Huerta had stressed the “you have a right to an attorney” thing pretty hard and Dan had actually slipped me Garrett's card.

“So I'm missing the end of the Cavaliers' game for no good reason?” He leaned against the doorframe of the office.

I didn't feel like explaining everything in front of Jessica. “Don't you want to consult with me in private?” Then blushed at exactly how that sounded. Based on Dan's smirk, he'd heard it, too.

Garrett grinned. “Yeah. Right. Dan? You have a spot where I could speak to Ms. Anderson? Privately?”

Dan nodded his head. “Of course. Follow me.” He stood up and led us down the hall to a small conference room. He opened the door and stood aside. “Be my guest.”

Once we got inside and sat down, Garrett said, “Rebecca, what the hell? Did you not hear what I said to you about the court of public opinion? How do you think rummaging around in Coco's private papers is going to look to people?”

“I was trying to find some notes that Coco and I had made about our business plan. Then I'd be able to show everyone that we were going to start a new business together and she didn't have any plans to retire and that Jessica is making stuff up to make me look bad. Again. That's all. Well, those and some recipe ideas we'd been working on. I could re-create those on my own, but it'd be easier if I had the notes we'd already made.” I ran the edge of my thumbnail up and down my jeans. “I don't know why everyone has to make a federal case out of it.”

Garrett pushed back in his chair and crossed his legs, ankle to knee. “It's not a federal case, Rebecca. It's a criminal one.” He jiggled his foot. He didn't sound amused now.

“I am not a crook,” I said. “I didn't find the notes. Besides, if I had found them and took them, it wouldn't be stealing. They were half mine.”

“So you removed nothing from Coco's home?” The foot kept jiggling, but nothing else on him was moving.

I slid my hands under my thighs and crossed my fingers while thinking about that notepad. “No. Of course not.”

He sighed and stood up. “Let's go talk to Dan. Given the circumstances, there's a chance I can make it home before the end of the fourth quarter. But first, give me your phone.”

I handed it over. He hit a few buttons and then handed it
back. “I put my contact information in there in your favorites list. Call me whenever.”

“My favorites? Don't you think that's kind of presumptuous?” I asked as I stood up.

He shrugged. “I've got good self-esteem. If I'm not one of your favorites now, I will be soon enough.” He held the door open for me.

Sprocket and I trooped after him down the hall back to Dan's office. Garrett motioned for me to sit down. “I think what we have here is an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

I stifled a giggle. I'd been sure he was going to say “failure to communicate.” Dan, Jessica and Garrett all turned and stared at me. I held my hands up in front of me. “Sorry.”

Garrett rubbed at his forehead with his thumb. “Ms. Anderson was simply trying to locate some business plans she had been working on with Ms. Bittles before Ms. Bittles's untimely death. Ms. Bittles had given Ms. Anderson the keys to her home many months ago. Ms. Anderson did not think she was doing anything wrong by letting herself in and looking for the plans.” I noticed he didn't mention the recipes.

“She did, too! I already told her no,” Jessica burst out. “That's why she was snooping around with a flashlight. She's sneaky.”

Garrett turned to me.

I shrugged. “It wasn't a flashlight. It was my cell phone. I didn't know if the electricity still worked. I only wanted what was mine. Nothing else.”

Jessica threw her tiny hands up in the air. “You really expect me to believe that, Rebecca? After I already told you I wouldn't let you into her office to look for those papers?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I don't expect anything of you, Jessica.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Now she was on full alert.

“I mean, that if you had been willing to let me in to look for the business plan, I wouldn't have had to let myself in.”

She jumped to her feet. “So you admit you were snooping!”

“I admit I was looking for the plans that Coco and I were working on. I might still want to go forward with them,” I said in what I hoped was a reasonable tone.

“None of them better have anything to do with her fudge recipe, Rebecca.” She jabbed her finger toward me.

I didn't budge. “Of course not. Our plans were based on new recipes, collaborations between Coco and me.”

“Jessica, do you still want to press charges against Rebecca?” Dan broke in.

“I suppose not.” Jessica put her hands on her hips. “Just remember, Rebecca, whatever belonged to Coco now belongs to me. Me. Not you. Not ever.” Jessica shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

Now I was on full alert. “Did you just call me a vulture?” The very same thing I had called Allen Thompson. She couldn't have hurt me worse if she'd used a knife.

“If the feathers fit, Rebecca. If the feathers fit.” Jessica looked at me, a little smile on her insipid face.

I was on my feet so fast I didn't even know how I'd gotten that way.

Then Garrett was in front of me. “Get out of my way, runner boy.” I tried to feint around him.

He blocked me easily and shook his head. “Nope. Take a second. Think about the optics, Rebecca.”

“The what?”

“How this would look. Think about it. Think about your knee.” He glanced down at my leg.

It took me a second to put it together. He was talking
about my high school showdown with Jessica. He was right. The optics were bad. Seriously bad. I dropped my hand. “Want to take a walk?”

“Very much,” he said, taking my hand and leading me out of the police station with Sprocket guarding my back.