While Bill Jordan was busy absorbing what she had said, she looked around her diner and could see a few customers with empty glasses of water and one couple needing menus. Enough time had been wasted with Bill Jordan. “Looks like you got some work cut out for you,” she said. “But I’m going to have to get back to work here. You gonna be all right?”
Bill blinked himself back into alertness and stepped back, contrite. “Yeah, sure. No problem. And uh, thanks. Not just for collecting my stuff, but for the talk. Yeah.” He nodded, sincere. “I really appreciate it.”
Taken aback by his change, she examined him more closely, wondering if he was just fooling her, like he didn’t really mean it. But he actually looked sincere. So, a bit of her hardness eased, and though she wasn’t going to go completely soft on him, she softened a little. “Like I said, hon. Focus on yourself. Let her do the same. Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll get back together.”
He nodded. “Again. Thank you.”
Mabel nodded, satisfied, then touched his arm as she passed him to go attend her customers. The door chime rang twice behind her, signaling that Bill had left. After she gave the couple menus, she spied the young man getting into a dark blue truck, and then back it away and head off up the highway. Mabel wondered if she’d ever see him again. For his sake, she hoped he learned something here.
But for her, she was back to square one. Winston was still in jail and no one else seemed to be looking out for the boy but her. Sheriff Dan certainly wasn’t. But it was clear from all this, she was no detective. A waitress at heart, that’s what she’d stay, so she might as well see if she could light a fire under Dan, the one man with a badge in this town, to do his job. She’d share what she’d learned from Winston and hoped that would be a start.
Then she looked down at the couple and flashed a welcoming smile. “What’ll it be, dears? I got the best cooking in Washington State and you two look hungry, and not just for each other.”
The couple blushed; she was right on both counts.
CHAPTER 16
Friday, September 26
Mabel expected Dan at the diner to do his weekly paperwork, but when he didn’t show, she went to see him the next morning. She found him with his feet on the desk, hands behind his head, chewing gum and staring at the ceiling of his storefront office. He didn’t seem to care that she’d caught him loafing, slowly easing himself back into a sitting position.
“Good day, Mabel,” he said. “I ain’t seen Hector if you’re looking.”
Mabel flushed, embarrassed that Dan’s first thought was to ease her mind that Hector might not be in trouble. “No, I…” she said, pulling out a muffin from her shoulder bag. “I made some of these last night, expecting you to come by. Thought I’d drop off one.”
Dan reached for it and took a big bite. “Thanks,” he said, smiling through a mouthful of crumbs.
She waited for him to swallow so he wouldn’t spit out the crumbs and then asked as innocently as she could, “So? How is your case going?”
“What case?”
Mabel gave him an “Are you serious?” look. “The murder of Karen Thompson.”
“Oh. That.” He shrugged. “Like I said, that’s mostly a Staties thing.” Dan took a last big bite of the muffin then licked his fingers. “Why? You still poking around this thing?”
Mabel played it innocent. “Why do you ask, Luv?”
“I heard from Buster. His boy said you visited the jail.”
Mabel frowned, folding her arms. “Well, I don’t think he did it, Dan.”
“The law might disagree with you there. He’s going to be arraigned Tuesday.”
“A what? What does reined mean?”
“No, no, it’s arraigned. A-R-R-A-I something something.” He flicked his hand like he didn’t care and then scratched his beard. “It means he either pleads guilty or not and if not, the judge fixes him a trial date. If he has no money for an attorney, court appoints him one. Standard procedure.”
“Would she be any good? This court-appointed lawyer?”
The Sheriff smiled a little. “Likely a he. Hopefully, it’s Arronson. He’s okay. Prosecutors like him.”
“That doesn’t sound so good for Winston.”
“It is to the system. Leave it be.”
“No. I won’t let it be. Because yes, I did go see Winston at the jail, and he told me he never went to the sawmill before,” Mabel said, raising her eyebrows like she had proven her point. “The killer would have had to have known that place, which Winston didn’t, so why would Winston go there to murder? Makes no sense.”
“Maybe he sold weed to a guy there once. Who knows?”
“Well then, what about the second semen sample?”
Dan winced, shifting in his seat. “Ugh, Mabel. I’m not used to you saying those words.”
“Winston loved her.”
“Well, then he shouldn’t have killed her.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He shrugged. “Most killers are kin or jilted lovers.”
“Yes, but the police say she was doing tricks, and she wasn’t.”
“How do you know what the police said?!” Mabel froze, wondering if he knew she read his report. “Did Winston tell you?”
Mabel raised her eyebrows, not wanting to admit she read that from Dan’s files last Thursday.
Dan pointed his finger at her. “Don’t you be listening to that boy. He’d say anything to get out of jail. Probably even said he’s innocent.”
“Dan! There are problems with this case. What about that black truck?”
“It’s a black truck. You see lots of trucks come in and out of your parking lot, don’t ya? Besides, Staties chased that lead and got nothing.”
“How?! What did they do? Did they drive around Blue River to see who owns a black truck?”
Dan scoffed. “To find one truck? Ain’t how it’s done. Anyone with a record would show up in the system.”
“Well… what if they don’t have a record?”
The Sheriff shrugged.
“That’s what I mean. Karen was turning her life around. She had a tattoo on her hands that spelled ‘hope.’”
“So, you’re calling the vic Karen now,” Dan said and raised his eyebrows like he’d made his point. “Got a tattoo of my mother’s face on my arm. Don’t mean I’m going to marry her.”
Mabel bit her lips to keep it serious. “The victim got a tattoo like her dad had when he had turned sober when he was her age. She was getting sober, too, and turning her life around. Winston knew it and was helping her.”
“Okay, you’re going to have to stop this,” Dan said, raising his palm to soothe her. “He’s in jail. He’s going to trial. Let the justice system handle it.”
“Will it? How many in prison are black? Or other minorities? He has a point.”
“You do the crime, you do the time.”
“That sounds like Larson talking.”
“Well, Larson owns a lot around here.”
“Are you with him now?”
“Now hold on, Mabel. You saw that mob the night the boy was here and how I protected him. I do my job when I have to. I stood up to Larson, and now he’s right pissed at me. This is a tough town for one policeman.”
“I know, Dan. But we can’t let them win.”
“Who?”
“The racists.”
“They’re community folk, most of them. You can’t blame them for wanting to protect the community.”
“They farm drugs.”
“Look. I get it. But if I tried arresting folks for being racist or farming drugs around here, practically the whole town would be in jail. Maybe this new mine will change things, but right now, I can’t change it.”
“You’re the law.”
He nodded but said nothing more.
Mabel sighed. “So, nothing’s changing then.”
“You can go to the arraignment,” Dan said, trying to mollify her now. “Go see justice in action. That might sett
le your thoughts.”
CHAPTER 17
Tuesday, September 30
Mabel took another afternoon off, and her staff almost had a gossiping fit. After she tamped that down, she asked Kerry to watch the boys, and even though their relationship had been improving, Kerry refused — until Mabel agreed to let Kerry drive to Lisa’s for dinner. And since Mabel expected to be back by the time Sally, covering her shift, had to leave at five-thirty pm for an appointment, the timing worked out for all.
But once Mabel made it to the back of the courtroom, she learned to her dismay cases earlier on the docket had taken extra time, which backed everything up. Now she’d be lucky to be out of here by four pm, and with that hour-and-a-half drive back to Blue River, she was cutting it close for everyone.
It was then a vast relief when the bailiff finally led Winston Washington into the courtroom around 4:05 pm.
The bailiff called the court to order, and the judge read out the criminal charge against Winston. Then the judge asked Winston if he had an attorney.
He shook his head no, looking lost and alone. Mabel’s heart bled for him.
“Please speak for the record,” said the judge.
“Excuse me?”
“Answer yes or no.”
“No.”
“Do you need the assistance of a court-appointed attorney?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Are you hard of hearing?”
“No. I mean, yes. Yes, I need a lawyer.”
The judge glared at him before looking down at the papers on his desk. “Note for the record that was a yes and that I will appoint attorney Stevenson—”
A voice from the gallery called out, “Stevenson’s on vacation.”
The judge frowned. “Then Gibson.”
“Sick,” said the same voice.
“Jamison? Akbar?”
“Both quit.”
The judge took off his glasses, clearly irritated. “You’re available, right, Arronson?”
The same voice responded, “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then, you’re it.”
The person stood up, and Mabel got her first look at Winston’s attorney. He was in his forties, with a round paunch, sloppy tie, and wrinkled jacket. He moved over to his client and whispered something to Winston.
“How does your client plead?”
Arronson whispered to Winston, and Winston muttered something back.
“What did he say?” the judge asked harshly. “Speak up.”
“I said, what does it matter what I plead?” Winston said as Arronson replied, “Nothing, Your Honor.”
The judge glared at Arronson. “Advise your client to answer properly.”
Winston muttered, “You’re going to find me guilty, anyway.”
The judge pointed his finger at Winston but looked at Arronson. “Is that his plea? Guilty? Make my day easier, please.”
Arronson conferred with Winston, the two going back and forth for a few minutes until, finally, Arronson gestured at Winston to speak to the judge. Arronson looked down at his notes.
“Not guilty then,” Winston said, in a petulant tone.
The judge looked up. “Pardon?”
“Whatever gives me the better deal.”
“That’s something you work out with the prosecutor,” the judge replied, sounding unimpressed. He turned to Arronson. “Do I understand that your client is pleading not guilty, for now?”
Arronson stopped rubbing his forehead and glanced up from his notes. He said, “Yes, Your Honor. He is pleading not guilty.”
“Okay,” the judge said. “I’m going to set bail.”
Arronson spoke up as if he didn’t expect a positive response. “I request he be allowed out on his own recognizance.”
“Denied.”
Arronson nodded resignedly.
The judge continued, “Since it’s a murder charge and the defendant has an existing criminal record and is considered a flight risk, bail is set at one hundred thousand. I’m assuming we can skip the pre-trial, Mr. Arronson?”
Arronson whispered something to Winston, who just shrugged. Arronson nodded to the judge.
“It would be good if we can get this matter settled,” the judge said, looking between the prosecutor and Arronson. The two looked at each other, and Arronson nodded to the prosecutor, and then the prosecutor nodded to the judge.
Mabel frowned.
“Good,” the judge said. “Trial date set for—” he referred to his calendar “—November 14th. Let’s move on. Bailiff?”
Arronson said a few last words to his client before Winston departed with the bailiff.
Arronson stuffed his briefcase with his files and notes and made his way over to the prosecutor. They exchanged a few words and then shook hands. Mabel frowned again and stood up. As the pudgy attorney went to leave the courtroom, she followed him out. In the lobby, she called his name. “Mr. Arronson? Mr. Arronson!”
Arronson looked back, startled to be addressed out of court. “Yes?” he said, looking like he was trying to figure out who Mabel was.
“I have concerns about the Winston Washington case.”
He adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We haven’t met. Are you a detective on the case? I haven’t read the full file yet.”
Mabel had worn her most professional skirt suit — the only one she had — but she was tongue-tied about how to answer and not give herself away. Before she could speak, however, Arronson continued. “What is it, Detective?”
So be it, Mabel thought. I didn’t tell a lie. “Two things,” she said, newfound confidence in her voice. “The unknown man with the black truck, and the second, unidentified semen sample.”
He didn’t bat an eye. “Are they linked?”
“Uh, what?”
“Do you have reason to believe the man in the truck raped her?”
“Oh, I’m, uh, no, I mean yes, I’m looking into it.”
“Okay, but I haven’t read the files yet. Do you have a card?”
“A card?” she asked, not wanting to say no, as she fumbled with her purse.
“Forget it,” Arronson said. “Here’s mine.”
She read it: Lavi Arronson, Attorney-at-Law and Public Defender.
“If you have any follow up, call me, right?”
She nodded, still looking at the card, amazed that she had access to Winston’s lawyer.
“That’s it?” Arronson asked.
She nodded, and he left.
Mabel put his card to her chest, laughed, and then quickly glanced around to see if anyone was looking. She glided down the hallway as if on air until she spied a clock on the wall. Ten minutes before five. Oh no, she thought, dropping back down to reality. She raced to the payphones, put in a quarter, and called home. It rang five times before Kerry finally answered.
“Hiya, Luv. I need—”
“Why aren’t you home yet?”
“Good news. I’m done here and—”
“When are you coming home?”
“It’ll take me about an hour and a half.”
“What?!” Kerry shrieked. “I told Lisa that I was coming over to her house!”
“I know, honey. Things just took longer—”
“You won’t be back till six-thirty!”
“Kerry! Enough!” Mabel raised her voice and then glanced around, embarrassed. She calmed herself down and said, “I know I’m late. I will be there as soon as I can. I’m sorry you’ll be late to see Lisa, but you will get to see her. Now, can you tell Sally—”
“Ughhh. Hurry up,” Kerry said and hung up.
Mabel bit back a swear. She put in another quarter and dialed the diner. A sudden headache caused her to rub her forehead. It rang several times before Kevin answered. She waited a little longer until Sally came on the line. “Mabel?”
“Yes, Sally. I’m at the courthouse and coming back now.”
A pause. “How long?”
“I’m sorry. Things went late, and, um, I’
ll be there at six-thirty.” Mabel cringed, knowing that she was forcing Sally to stay late too. Several seconds went by in silence.
“Okay, Mabel.” Sally sounded disappointed.
“I’m sorry, Luv. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Drive safe.”
“I will,” Mabel said and hung up the phone.
Her initial euphoria of helping Winston morphed into disappointment. And while promising she’d make it up to Kerry and Sally, in all honesty, she didn’t know when with how busy she was, and that troubled her. This situation was taking up whatever little time she had, and life was such a struggle as is.
CHAPTER 18
Thursday, October 2
Order up,” Kevin called out. For the past two days, Mabel had worked double shifts to make it up to Sally.
She limped over to drop off dirty dishes and then picked up four lunches to take to a table full of construction workers, setting down an extra bottle of ketchup before they had to ask. With the mine’s central administration building almost built, the crews hadn’t set up their eating hall yet, so traffic to the diner was heavy. She knew it wouldn’t last but wanted to make sure the crews were well-fed and happy, hoping some would come back after the hall was built. And while Sally had forgiven her for being late two nights back, Kerry hadn’t. The teen had been extra moody since then, and Mabel had had enough. Mabel had been about to confront her coming out of her bedroom that morning but caught her drying off tears, which melted Mabel’s heart. Still, the girl managed to leave the house with much unsaid; Mabel would just have to wait her out.
“Order up,” Kevin repeated.
Mabel’s feet ached, and she hobbled back to the kitchen, where Kevin told her they needed more potatoes.
Mabel wiped her forehead while scanning the diner. “Can we wait till tonight?”
Kevin shook his head. “Got more lunch orders to fill.”
She checked the time, just past one pm, as Kevin pressed her. “Can’t cook fries without potatoes.”
“Okay,” she said, blowing the hair out of her face. “I can make a run into town and pick up what they’ve got.”
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