Cremas, Christmas Cookies, and Crooks Page 14

  Finally, I was close enough that I could speak to him and he could hear me without me having to shout. Shouting seemed like a bad idea given the clandestine nature of our meeting. I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was Brett, but who else could it be?

  “Brett?” I called cautiously and not very loudly.

  No response.

  I walked a few steps closer. “Brett?” I said again but more quietly.

  The figure sighed. “I was afraid it was you,” it said, but the voice wasn’t Brett’s. It was—

  “Mike.” I felt nauseous. Was this a setup? Had Brett set me up? Or maybe it was just a coincidence. I tried to sound cheerful and like nothing unusual was going on. “I didn’t expect to run into you here! How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a couple of days!”

  “I know you didn’t expect to run into me here. You expected to run into Brett.”

  “Brett? Brett who?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Francesca.” He took a step closer to me, close enough now that I could see his face in the moonlight. He did not look happy. And he was using my full name again. Not a good sign. Also not a good sign that he knew I was supposed to meet Brett. The little brat really had set me up.

  “Oh, you mean Brett Wallace?”

  “Are there any other Bretts you’ve been harassing lately to the point that they’d rather kill themselves than meet up with you again?”

  All the air was suddenly gone from my lungs. My mouth tried to form words, but there was no air to push them out. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally managed to get out a single weak “what?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s not dead. At least I assume you’re not messed up enough to want him dead. I’m not sure I know anymore.”

  I could breathe again, at least a little. “He’s not—he’s not—”

  “Nope, he’s not dead. He tried, though.”

  I finally managed a complete sentence. “What happened?”

  “He drove himself into a light pole on his way home from his violin lesson. At least, he was supposed to be on his way home. According to his phone, he was on his way to meet you.”

  To meet me. Brett drove himself into a light pole on his way to meet me. “But he’s the one who asked me to meet him.”

  “Geez, don’t lie to me, Fran. At least give me that much respect.”

  “I’m not lying! You can check my phone! He called me!” I reached into my pocket to pull it out and show him.

  “Keep your hands where they are!” Mike’s hand dropped to his hip, and I slowly moved mine away from my pocket and up beside my face.

  “I don’t—I’m not—”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, walking over to me. He patted the pockets on both sides of my coat and then my jeans.

  “Mike, you don’t think—”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore, Franny.” He took a couple steps back away from me, as if he didn’t want to be near me. He stood there and stared at me for a long time.

  “I didn’t ask Brett to meet me here,” I said finally in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “But you’re here. After I asked you to stay away.”

  “I know, I—” Mike shook his head ever so slightly, and I stopped. No excuse or explanation would make a difference now. “Is Brett going to be okay?”

  “Should be. He lost consciousness for a little while, and they have him sedated now, but they think he’ll be okay. We should know more tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Please, if you see his family, tell them I—”

  He raised a hand to stop me. “I don’t think they want to hear anything from you. His mother’s already been on the phone with the chief, trying to get you arrested for harassment.”

  “But I haven’t been—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Franny.”

  I stared down at Latte, who was uncharacteristically sitting quietly by my side.

  “I better go. Sandra’s waiting. I already missed tucking the kids into bed.” He stared at me for a few seconds then sighed resolutely. “Take care, Fran.” He turned around and walked a few steps before pausing to call back over his shoulder. “And tell Matt he can come out from behind the trees. He’s not as hidden as he thinks he is.” He walked away without turning back again.

  I stared after him until I felt Matt’s hand on my shoulder. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Brett was in a car accident. Mike said—” I choked back a sob. “Mike said he tried to kill himself.”

  Matt pulled me in to him, and I let him, flour and all. “It’s not your fault, Franny.”

  I nodded as though I agreed, but I knew that it was.

  Chapter 22

  I WOKE up the next morning feeling broken inside, and it took me a few minutes to figure out why. When I did, I seriously considered going back to sleep. Before I could, Latte noticed me and crawled over to kiss me all over my face. It’s hard to fall asleep when you have a dog actively applying his slobber to you.

  “All right, all right.” I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. Latte, not dissuaded in the slightest, shoved his head under my arm and nuzzled me frantically. “Hungry?” Latte leapt from the bed and raced to my bedroom door. I got up and stumbled after him. Downstairs—I still hadn’t gotten myself moved into the first-floor master—I scooped his food and started myself a cup of coffee. Then I sat at the kitchen table and stared into space while Latte ate. When he was done, I let him out the back door and left it cracked so he could push it open when he was ready to come in. I shivered from the chill as the icy air blew in.

  For a brief second, I wondered if maybe Brett hadn’t driven into the light pole on purpose. Maybe he’d hit a patch of ice and skidded there. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it wasn’t my fault. But then I remembered stepping over a puddle on my way home from the park last night and realized it hadn’t been cold enough when he crashed for there to have been a patch of ice.

  I sat back down at the table and stared while I waited for Latte to come back in. When he did, I closed the door and went through the motions of my morning—eating, showering, getting dressed, blow-drying my hair so I didn’t end up with a frozen helmet when I went outside on my long, cold walk with Latte.

  And it was a long walk, longer than usual. Instead of our usual lap around the neighborhood, we wandered aimlessly through town. At each intersection, I let Latte lead us in whichever direction most appealed to his nose. Apparently that was the direction of salty sea air, because I eventually found myself standing on the beach.

  I had always loved the beach, but of course, who didn’t? Still, having grown up in Cape Bay, with the crash of the waves the soundtrack of my childhood and the salt air its perfume, being on the beach gave me a peace it was hard to feel anywhere else.

  Latte and I were the only ones on the beach, so I unhooked his leash and flung his tennis ball. He took off after it. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the waves. If it hadn’t been barely above freezing temperatures, I would have taken my shoes off, rolled up my jeans, and let the water sink my feet into the sand. But I liked having toes and didn’t want to lose them to wading-induced frostbite, so I kept my boots on.

  Latte brought his ball back, and I threw it again. And again. And again. And again until Latte was exhausted and dropped himself in addition to his ball at my feet. I wouldn’t say I was feeling good by then, but I was feeling better, as if I could handle facing customers and making coffee instead of just sitting and staring into space. I hooked Latte’s leash back up to his collar and headed first for home and then for the café.

  What I saw when I walked in wasn’t what I expected.

  Sammy was standing at the counter, which wasn’t unusual, but her tight-lipped expression and hands clutching its edge were. For a split second, I was afraid we were being robbed, even though there was no one standing across from her. But when I followed her gaze to the group sitting across from her, I realized what was wrong.

/>   “I thought I told you not to come back here,” I said, singling Ryan’s ex Cheryl out in what I assumed was her group of friends. Apparently I had not been as effective in scaring her off as I’d thought.

  “You did?” she asked, looking at me blankly and innocently, as if I hadn’t physically escorted her from the café just two days before. “I don’t think you said that.”

  I tried to think back to whether those words had literally come out of my mouth. It was possible that they hadn’t, but shouldn’t escorting her out have been enough? It would have been for anyone else, but apparently Cheryl’s level of crazy ran even deeper than I’d thought.

  “Well, I meant to. You need to leave. Now. All of you.” I looked dead into her eyes. “And don’t come back.”

  Cheryl looked at me for a second and then leaned back in her chair, hooking her arms over the back. “No.” She looked at me defiantly. “This is a public place, and I have a right to be here.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. This is private property, and I have the right to refuse service to anyone who is here just to harass my employees.”

  “Who, me? Harassing? I’m not harassing anyone! Me and my friends here are just enjoying a nice cup of coffee and some cookies.”

  Most of them did have coffee cups in front of them. I admired Sammy for that. Knowing her, she would have been friendly and pleasant while serving them, even if what she really wanted to do was throw the cups at their heads.

  And there was a plate of cookies in the middle of the table. Cheryl was actually picking one up at that moment.

  “So, see? We’re not harassing anyone.” She smiled and looked at the gingerbread woman in her hand. It had long blond hair, a pink smile, and blue eyes. It was a cookie that I suspected Sammy had designed to look like herself, and I remembered seeing how she’d arranged it in the display case next to the smiling police officer cookie, almost as though they were holding hands. Cheryl looked from the cookie to Sammy, still smiling, then snapped the gingerbread woman’s head off. She tossed it on the table and bit into the spot on the cookie where it had been.

  “That’s it. Get out!” I spoke a little too loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the café who hadn’t already been watching the confrontation. I walked over to the group, stopping just short of Cheryl. I wanted to grab her by the arm and drag her out, but I didn’t think that would be wise.

  Cheryl looked at one of her friends, the one closest to her. “This is that girl I told you about. The one who assaulted me,” she said loudly so that everyone in the café could hear. She even looked around at all of them as though they were her audience and she wanted to make sure she had their attention.

  I took a step closer, so I was standing over her. “I did not assault you, and you know it. Now get out, and take all your friends with you.”

  “No.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Get out now, or I will call the police.”

  “For what? Being paying customers?”

  “For trespassing and harassing my employee.”

  She took another bite of gingerbread. Her friends, as if on command, all took bites of their own cookies or sipped their cups of coffee.

  “This is your last chance. Leave, or I call the police.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Sammy?” I held my hand out, operating on faith that she had released her white-knuckled grip on the counter and would be quick enough on her feet to slap the cordless phone into my palm. Thank goodness, she did.

  I dialed the nine and one then looked at Cheryl as I hovered my finger over the one for the second time. “Last chance,” I said.

  She didn’t even flinch.

  I pushed the one button again and held the phone to my ear.

  “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

  “Hi, this is Francesca Amaro down at Antonia’s. I have some people trespassing here. I’ve asked them to leave, and they’ve refused.”

  One of Cheryl’s friends, looking worried, looked around at the other ones, but none of them acknowledged her.

  “Are they armed?” the 9-1-1 operator asked.

  Well, there were no guns or hunting knives sitting out on the table, but it wouldn’t surprise me if this group had them tucked away in their purses. Still, I didn’t think I could tell the dispatcher that. “Not as far as I know,” I said, feeling slightly foolish, as if this was a stupid reason to call the police.

  I heard typing on the other end of the line. “And are they threatening you in any way?”

  Did snapping off the head of a gingerbread woman that looked like my employee count? I didn’t think so. “Not at the moment.”

  More typing. At that point, I was just waiting for her to tell me that this wasn’t something I should have called the police for and hang up on me. Fortunately, she didn’t.

  “Okay, Fran, I’ve dispatched an officer on a nonemergency trespassing call to your location. He’s nearby, so he should be there in just a few minutes. Would you like me to stay on the line with you until he arrives?”

  I declined. What would I do if I stayed on the line with her, anyway? Ask her about her day? Invite her down for coffee after work? Actually, that wasn’t too bad of an idea.

  She stopped me before I could suggest it, though. “If anything changes about your situation before he gets there, please let me know so I can update the responding officer.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Just before I hung up, I got a slightly panicky feeling. “What’s the name of the officer who’s coming?” I wasn’t sure I was ready to face Mike if he was the one coming. And not that I doubted his professionalism for a second, but I wasn’t exactly sure he’d be thrilled to handle a nonemergency call from me either. At least Sammy was still on his good side, and she was the one who really needed his help, even if it was my property that was being trespassed on.

  “The officer is Ryan Leary,” the dispatcher said.

  I breathed a sigh of relief before I remembered that he was the reason Cheryl was harassing Sammy. Still, it was better than having to face Mike. I thanked the dispatcher and hung up the phone.

  “The police are on their way,” I announced, making sure I said it loud enough for the whole café to hear so that they knew this wasn’t just some childish spat. Of course, there was also the chance that they would interpret it to mean that I didn’t hesitate to call the police on my customers, but I figured most of them knew me well enough to know that wasn’t the case.

  “Good,” Cheryl said, adjusting her position in her chair but not looking any more as though she was getting ready to leave. “Maybe I can talk to them about that assault charge.”

  “Be my guest.” I gave her a smile that wasn’t even meant to look sincere then turned my back on her and walked around the counter to where Sammy had retreated after giving me the phone. She was now white-knuckle clutching the other side of the counter. I dropped the phone into its charger. “You can go in the back,” I said, not bothering with any napkin-ordering pretenses.

  Wordlessly, she went into the storage room and shut the door behind her.

  I stood there and wondered what was taking Ryan so long before I realized that it hadn’t even been a full minute since I hung up the phone. Still, Cape Bay wasn’t that big.

  To keep myself calm, I walked around the counter and went up to the first customer who wasn’t Cheryl or her friends. “I’m so sorry for all the—” I waved my hand in the direction of Cheryl’s posse. “Unpleasantness. Can I get you a free refill of your drink or perhaps some complimentary cookies?”

  They took me up on it, because my customers were generally well behaved, but not stupid, and I worked my way around the café, doing my best to ingratiate myself to my customers and prove to them that I was the good guy in this situation. I had just taken care of the last customer—except Cheryl’s table, of course—when Ryan and another officer came in. It was all I could do to keep myself from asking what had taken them so long.

  Just inside the door, Rya
n said something quietly to the other officer and pointed in Cheryl’s direction then came over to me. The other officer moved toward her but stopped before he got too close.

  “Cheryl?” Ryan asked.

  I nodded, then he turned to the other officer and nodded. That officer walked the rest of the way over to the table.

  “A’right, ladies, let’s go,” he said.

  The one who had looked nervous earlier made a move to get up, but none of the rest of them did. She sank back down into her chair.

  “I said, let’s go!”

  None of them moved.

  Ryan put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around, leading me a few steps farther away from the group. “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said, low enough that only I could hear. “I had a feeling I knew what was going on and thought I should bring some backup.”

  I nodded and nearly thanked him for not choosing to bring Mike. But for all I knew, maybe he’d tried to bring him and Mike had declined.

  “Is Sam okay?”

  I nodded again. “She’s in the back. I don’t think they really said anything to her, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her. I just got here.”

  Now Ryan nodded. “We’re going to get them out of here and take their statements, then I’ll come back and get yours.” He took a deep breath. “In the meantime, could you go check on Sammy?”

  I glanced around at my customers scattered throughout the café. They’d all gotten fresh food and drinks, but I didn’t really want to go shut myself off in the back room in case they needed anything.

  Ryan, apparently reading my mind, grinned. “Maybe after the entertainment’s over, they’ll need some refreshments, but I think they’ll be fine for now.”

  He had a point. I headed for the back room. Cheryl muttered a swear word at me as I walked by. I bristled but did my best to ignore it. Just as I got to the back room, I heard Ryan talking to the women behind me. “Okay, everybody who doesn’t want to add to their arrest record, stand up and step outside so we can take your statement. Everybody who doesn’t mind spending the night in the Cape Bay jail, stay where you are.”