CHAPTER 20
“So, that was a nice-looking cowboy you just sent out into the storm,” Mindy said as she wrapped her hands around a fresh cup of coffee. She looked well rested and offhandedly beautiful. She wore no makeup and had only brushed her hair and pulled on yoga pants and a pink sweatshirt. “I can’t believe you didn’t ask him to stay.”
“I offered,” I said with a shrug. “But he had a couple of calls. He works as a handyman and the seniors count on him, especially when weather’s bad like today.”
“Hmm,” Mindy said. “I can’t believe you opened the bakery in this mess. The television says that power is out all over the place and the highways are definitely closed. There is a huge pileup on the turnpike.”
“I would think you were used to winter storms from being in New York.”
“Oh, it might be east of here, but I’m not too sure it’s any more north. The weather is milder on average.” She stirred her coffee. Mindy liked coffee with a dash of creamer. No, that’s not true. In reality she preferred a caramel macchiato with whip. But I wasn’t a barista and I wasn’t interested in spending money on a fancy coffee machine.
I checked the peanut butter cookies in the oven. Cookies could be baked and frozen for later shipment. So I baked. It helped me feel like I was accomplishing something in the storm. “I kind of thought maybe the weather was milder. I know New York has better weather than Chicago.”
“It’s that Midwest curse.” She sipped. “Everything is extreme—too cold, too hot, too windy. That’s what I like about the city. The buildings and concrete tend to hold in the heat and cold. It normalizes the extremes.”
The cookies were done. I pulled two dozen out of the oven to cool and put a second set in. I set the timer for ten minutes. I’d learned that if you lower the oven temperature by twenty-five degrees and then let the cookies bake longer, it made for a soft, chewy cookie. Some people liked the crunchy cookies that crumble the moment you bit into them, but I found most people preferred the soft, chewy kind.
I blew out a long breath as I slipped the cookies from the cookie sheet to the wire rack. “I have to say I do miss the city—the theaters, the lyric opera, and the wide variety of restaurants and clubs.”
“Oiltop is a backwater truck stop in comparison to New York,” Mindy agreed. “Still you have the best-looking well-educated lawyers. Not to mention handyman cowboys. Why is that?”
“I told you. Brad moved back to be with his family.” I shrugged. “Sam’s family is here as well. Family means more than city life to some people.”
“Grandma Ruth told me Brad’s mom and dad have passed on.” Mindy stared into space. “There really isn’t anything keeping him here in Oiltop.”
“I suppose there isn’t,” I said. “Nothing except his law office and the relationships he’s built in town.”
“If you’re talking about his membership in the Chamber of Commerce, I’d hardly consider that ‘building relationships.’ I bet if he put out feelers in New York, he’d have five or six offers already.”
“That’s a lot of interest in a small-town lawyer.”
A Cheshire cat grin spread across Mindy’s face. “It’s not what you know but who you know.”
“Oh.” I felt my shoulders lower in defeat. “I suppose that’s true.” I put together a batch of peanut butter fudge with chocolate chips. My recipe was gluten-free and no-boil. As long as you overlooked the amount of butter and sugar it was a real treat.
“You look worried that I might snatch Brad away to the city.”
My cousin was as smart as I was. The difference was that she used her brain to strategize how to control people where I used mine to problem solve. “I have no say over whether Brad stays or goes.” I plopped butter into the stainless steel bowl of the mixer and beat it to soften. “I worry that Brad is the only chance Tim has to stay out of jail. The other lawyers in town aren’t as understanding when it comes to our crazy family.”
“I’m sure some other hayseed will move into Oiltop and take Brad’s place.” Mindy brushed off my concern. “I’m surprised you stayed after your mother died. I mean, I know you got the house, but really? You’d prefer Oiltop to Chicago?”
“It grows on you.”
The front doorbell rang.
We looked at each other, startled. “Who would be out in this blizzard?” I asked. Family never rang the doorbell. Mindy shrugged and we both moved to the front door.
The wind banged the storm door against the porch siding. There in the windswept drift on the porch were Tim and Brad.
“Speak of the devil,” I muttered as I opened the door wide and ushered them both in as quickly as possible. “Why didn’t you just come in?”
“Someone locked the door,” Tim said. He had his thin jacket wrapped around him, the collar turned up to keep the back of his neck warm. His jeans looked wrinkled and he had a thick five-o’clock shadow. For the first time ever I noticed the gray in his beard and the deep dark circles under his eyes. He stomped the snow off his boots as he entered the foyer.
“Who? The door’s never locked.” I glanced at Mindy.
She shrugged. “Big-city habit.”
“Are you okay?” I asked Tim and hugged him.
He stiffened. “I survived.”
“Bradley, you brought home our dear Timmy.” Mindy stepped right up to Brad and unbuttoned his coat. “Give me your coat. Come in out of the cold. We have coffee.”
I worked to keep emotion out of my expression. Tim and I both exchanged a look at Mindy’s actions.
“Did the police station have power?” I asked my brother as we left the two lovebirds alone.
“They have a backup generator,” Tim said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to hang up my jacket and go shower.”
“Oh, sure, I understand. I’m making fudge and cookies. The bakery is without power.”
“Yeah, I heard Greenbaum brought you home.” He yanked off his jean jacket, hung it on the mudroom hooks.
“How did you hear that?” I asked.
“It’s a small town,” Tim said.
“Sheesh. He actually came back to bring me a cooler for the stuff in the bakery refrigerator. It was a good thing, too, because I didn’t have a flashlight or batteries.”
“I told you, you need to put one in the front under the cash register.” Tim reached over me and snagged a coffee mug off the shelf. “I’ll be down in five.” He poured coffee in his mug and left me to my baking.
“I’m so impressed by your efforts to come out in this awful storm and bail my dear cousin out of jail.” Mindy smiled her toothpaste-ad smile at Brad. “You didn’t have to come into the kitchen. Go sit in the den. We have a fire burning. You can warm your hands and I’ll bring a tray in.”
“I wanted to see Toni,” Brad said and pushed Mindy aside to step close enough to me to give me a hug. “How are you doing? How’s the bakery? I understand there might be issues with the power being out. Do you have insurance to cover your losses?”
“Hi back.” I reached up and hugged him. Then I stepped back to the fudge I was making. “The food in the freezer should be good for at least a day. I’ve got a thermometer in there so the health inspector can see what the temperature gets to without power.”
“Do you need any help? I could scrounge up some coolers, and Tim and I could unpack the freezer and bring some of the stuff here and some to my place. I have a small chest freezer in my basement. I haven’t used it in years, but it’s on and we could ensure the baked goods remain at proper temperatures.”
“Oh, I’m sure the power will come back on before the end of the day,” Mindy said and turned Brad back toward the doorway. “Come on, Toni’s working. Let’s go sit by the fire and have a nice visit. Okay?”
“Sure.” Brad followed her through the door and out into the hall.
I heard Mindy say someth
ing and laugh. The sound was a high bell-like quality. Followed by Brad’s deep baritone laugh. My heart squeezed a little. When I was first separated from Eric I thought I would never want to be with another guy. I mean, who wants that heartbreak? I was done and done.
It seemed that something happened to your brain when you first got divorced. It fell out and caused you to remake the same mistakes you made as a young adult. I was not above knowing that I could do something just as tragic. And yet I cringed at the laughter I heard coming from the den.
“I don’t need a guy,” I muttered out loud and poured coffee into a carafe and put it on a tray with four mugs, a sugar bowl and creamer, and a plate full of cookies. I had told Brad he should ask someone else out. From the sounds of things he was taking me at my word.
I picked up the tray and brought it into the den where Mindy was curled up on the settee next to Brad. It was a cozy scene as she leaned against his broad shoulder and batted her eyelashes at him.
“Here’s your coffee.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to bring that out here,” Mindy declared. “But thank you.”
I turned to leave and Brad called out my name. “Toni . . .”
“Yes?” I stood in the doorway conflicted.
“Why don’t you join us? Cooking all day won’t do you any good if none of the delivery trucks can pick it up and see it delivered.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to go on the assumption that they’ll be up and running by later this afternoon or early tomorrow. The weather guy says the storm is clearing in Western Kansas right now.”
“It’s more than a storm, and you know it,” he said and stood, dumping Mindy off his lap. “If enough lines are down, the power can be out for days.”
“Then I’ll get a generator.” I shrugged. “This is my busy season. I need to invoice orders. If that means baking and boxing in the homestead kitchen, then so be it.”
“That’s dedication,” Mindy said. “Think of all the good you could do if you had become a doctor or lawyer. Why, you might even be able to prevent poverty.”
She kept her expression neutral, but I knew sarcasm when I heard it. There wasn’t anything I could do. If I called her on the sarcasm she would blink at me innocently and ask what I meant. So I let the issue go. I figured someday Mindy would get her comeuppance. Karma happened that way. As for those who were mean and didn’t seem to get their comeuppance, well, I believed they lived very unhappy lives.
“Thank you,” I finally said. “Sometimes it’s good to be stubborn.”
“You’re most welcome.” Mindy preened like a puffed-up bird.
“You two stay and talk. Brad, Tim said he’d be down after a quick shower. I’m sure you two have a lot of things to discuss—like who might be framing him and why.”
“Wait.” Brad stepped toward me, but Mindy took hold of his hand and pulled him back. His electric blue gaze looked concerned and uncertain. I read once that if a man is conflicted about how he feels for you, then you should let him go. Because it’s true that a man always knows if he is interested. If he’s waffling, then he’s just not that into you.
“I’ve got fudge in the mixer,” I said to hold him off. “Have some coffee. Tim will be right down.”
He sat back down, his gaze uncertain like that of a small child who had just gotten a smack and didn’t know why.
I shook off the image. He was five years older than me. Time was ticking for both of us. If he wanted to date silly girls like Mindy, then let him. Goodness knew I was up to my neck in enough troubles.
Tim walked into the kitchen as I scraped the peanut butter fudge into the lined pan. He poured himself some more coffee. I ran a knife through the fudge and then put the pan into the refrigerator.
He leaned back against the counter and wrapped his hands around his mug. Tim was tall and lean—a good-looking man with an attractive devil-may-care attitude. There was a time when he could have had any woman he wanted, but it had taken him a while to come to the realization that maybe there was more to life than charm and wit and parties.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother. I hated that he had moved out. I hated that he was in the mess he was in now. I kind of figured he was mad at me for not investigating. I turned to face him and let him get it out.
“How was jail? I hear you get new clothes and three square meals.” I joked with him.
He looked at me with a grim gaze. “It sucks.” He scowled. “I did not do this, Toni. I don’t know how the heck my name got on all those hotel rooms. You know I’ve been working hard to get my life together. I want things before I die. I want a home and a wife and kids, and heck . . . I want grandkids.” His shoulders dropped. “Who wants a felon for a husband, or for that matter, who wants a criminal for a dad?” His gaze went through my heart. “I want to be the kind of father and husband that Dad was. There’s not a whole lot of time left to be that.”
I hugged him tight. “You are the kind of man Dad was,” I reassured him. “Everyone with a brain knows you’re being framed.”
“They have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest me.” A tear came to his eyes. “Brad says I’m innocent until proven guilty, but it sure as heck feels like I’m guilty and need to prove otherwise.”
“Was it bad in jail?”
He shrugged. “It was weird, cold, and hard. I teased them by running my cup along the bars and chanting. ‘Attica, Attica. . . .’”
That made me smile. “How’s the sense of humor in the station these days?”
“Stinks.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “How the heck did a murderer get away with using my identity? How could none of the desk workers notice that it wasn’t me? They’ve got record of me checking into hotels twice a week for the last eight months. I know people know who I am. They have to know it wasn’t me.”
“Grandma has me investigating,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I’m in a bit of overload with the bakery and I really thought Calvin would clear up this terrible misunderstanding.”
“Yeah, well, the prosecutor’s the one who wants me doing time.”
“Why?”
“It’s Dan Kelly. He was elected last October to the position of district attorney.”
“Dan Kelly . . . Why does his name sound familiar?”
“He was that skinny kid who I beat out as quarterback. He was a senior and I was a sophomore. He thought he was a shoo-in because he had the best throwing arm in his class.”
“But yours was better.”
“And”—my brother looked at me—“he was dating Mary Ellen.”
“Wait.” I tilted my head. “Didn’t you and Mary Ellen go out for two years?”
“Yeah.” He got this sheepish look on his face. “Mary Ellen was the head cheerleader. She wanted to date the star quarterback. When I won the spot from Bill, I won her, too.”
I winced. “So you think he’s still harboring thoughts of revenge? It’s been like twenty-three years.”
“Twenty-four years—the man has waited a long time and now he’s dancing around with glee at the idea of sending me to prison for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, come on.” I crossed my arms. “You’re both adults. He’s the prosecutor. That means he has a good job, a good education, and probably a nice house and a wife and kids. Why would he risk his reputation to get revenge on you?”
Tim ran a hand over his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not him. It has to be someone important. Who else could steal my identity and not get caught? Some of those places have video cameras. The cops have the video from the Red Tile, and as far as Brad knows there is no evidence that I entered the check-in area.”
“Well, that should exonerate you right there.”
“But there’s also no evidence I didn’t,” he said. “They’ve got records of my name and my signature on all
those records. According to them, I paid my bills in cash. Who has that kind of cash? What the heck were they doing checking into a variety of hotels using my name?”
“What are the reasons anyone checks into a hotel?” I asked.
“To sleep,” Tim said, “or to get laid.”
“What about the drug angle? Why would the cops come and search your apartment and the house for drugs?”
“They think I was dealing out of those hotels.” Tim’s mouth went flat and his gaze turned grim. “Who would be stupid enough to put their own name in a ledger that could prove they were dealing dope out of hotel rooms?”
“Exactly,” I said and patted him on the arm. “You are not stupid, and Chief Blaylock knows that.”
“Yeah, well, Calvin Bright and Joe Emry worked me over for eight hours straight.”
“What did you tell them?” I rubbed his arms to comfort him. Being grilled for eight hours must have been awful.
“The first thing I told them was I wanted my lawyer.”
“Thank goodness for Brad,” I said and meant it. “Did it take him long to get there?”
“Only about an hour. He had to do a bunch of paperwork and such before they let him in to see me.”
“Then what happened?”
“They kept trying to get me to admit to being at the Red Tile Inn that day. They even tried to say they caught me on tape walking through the parking lot toward the room.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Toni. I swear.”
“Did you see the video?”
“No, Brad asked for copies of the clips, but as far as I know they didn’t produce them. Brad says until they produce the videos and share them with him, they can’t use them in a trial.”
My heart squeezed. Trial? Would this mess really go that far? I looked into my brother’s eyes and for the first time ever I saw fear. What the heck was I doing worrying about cookies when my brother was in this much trouble?
Flourless to Stop Him Page 17
