Winner Cake All

by Denise Swanson

  “You do that.” Hiram paused, then added, “Up until Ortiz screwed your wife, I really liked that boy. I almost couldn’t believe that he betrayed your friendship like that.” Hiram paused again. “I just don’t think he has it in him to have killed her like that.”

  “Like what?” Spencer definitely wanted to hear his mentor’s thoughts on the subject.

  “If Brock had shot her in the heat of the moment, or if he’d smacked her and she hit her head, I could believe that.” Hiram sighed. “But to stab her through the eye while she was already unconscious doesn’t fit his character.” Hiram chuckled. “But then again, having an affair with his best-friend-since-grade-school’s wife didn’t seem like something he’d do either. So what do I know?”

  “You know a lot. And you taught me to never disregard a gut feeling.” Spencer opened his desk drawer, took out a Snickers, and tore off the wrapper. “Did I ever tell you that Brock cornered me shortly after I found about him and Yvette and tried to explain it to me?”

  “No.” Hiram’s voice sharpened. “What did he have to say?”

  “All I heard before I walked out was that Yvette was the love of his life, she’d put a spell on him, and he had no choice. That he felt like he’d die without her, and that he was pretty sure that I didn’t feel the same way about her.”

  Spencer had been about to take a bite of the candy bar, but suddenly his stomach roiled, remembering the sense of betrayal he’d felt during that brief encounter with his ex-buddy. He hadn’t examined his feelings at the time, but now he realized he’d actually been more upset with losing Brock’s friendship than losing Yvette.

  After the queasiness passed, Spencer said, “Maybe I should have listened to him back then.”

  “Nah. You weren’t ready to hear what he had to say. If you had stuck around, you probably would have punched out his lights.”

  “Oh. I did that before I left.” Spencer flexed his fingers, remembering the sting of his fist hitting his friend’s cheekbone.

  “Good.” Hiram’s voice shook with laughter. “He absolutely deserved it.”

  “That he did.” Spencer didn’t regret throwing that punch, but he was glad it had been only one and that he’d walked away after that.

  There was a moment’s silence, then Hiram said, “Do you know if Brock continued to feel that Yvette was the only one for him? I mean after he’d been with her awhile, did the shine wear off of her?”

  “Well, I went back undercover shortly after that incident.” Spencer suddenly remembered he was starving and he took huge a bite from the candy bar.

  “Then you never saw them together again?” Hiram’s tone was innocent. “Never slipped away and took a gander at the lovebirds?”

  “Maybe once,” Spencer mumbled around his mouthful of chocolate and nuts, “or twice.” He recalled watching Yvette and Brock eating at a neighborhood restaurant, one that the three of them had frequented. Swallowing Spencer added, “Purely by accident of course.”

  Hiram made a noncommittal sound, then asked, “And was the luster still on the rose?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Spencer smiled. Hiram’s way of putting things always amused him. “Although Brock certainly seemed like he was crazy about her, Yvette was a lot harder to read. She accepted his attentions, but she didn’t appear to reciprocate.”

  “Most scam artists are like that.” Hiram’s words reminded Spencer that his mentor had never liked Yvette and had tried to warn him about her. “That painted woman always acted as if being worshipped was her due.”

  “I can see that now.” Spencer still couldn’t figure out how his ex had fooled him, but he thought it had to be that she had sensed his loneliness, as well as his ingrained need to protect those around him, and homed in on it like shark sensed chum in the water.

  Hiram’s voice broke in on Spencer’s little trip down memory lane. “This all makes me even less convinced that Brock would kill Yvette.”

  “Or”—Spencer considered his next words—“he felt like he had to kill her, maybe thinking that if she were dead, he could forget about her.”

  “If he’s turned psycho, that is a possibility.” Hiram agreed, then added, “And another possibility is that the reason he’s difficult to find is that her death didn’t help and he offed himself later that night or the next day.”

  “Let’s hope that isn’t the case.” Spencer’s voice cracked.

  Brock wouldn’t have been the only first responder to eat his gun. Spencer knew of at least three personally and a few others who were friends of friends.

  Men and women in the protect-and-serve professions were called to the scenes of incredibly graphic and traumatic events. Their jobs required them to run toward dangerous and life-threatening situations. And even now, a lot of them felt there was a stigma in seeking help with their emotions.

  Hiram and Spencer said their goodbyes and Hiram hung up with a promise to continue searching for Brock. With that settled, Spencer went through the rest of the missed messages on his cell phone. He had turned it to vibrate while he’d been busy at the union trying to keep the students from hurting each other and hadn’t felt it buzzing in its holster on his utility belt.

  As he scrolled through the list he finished his Snickers, but nearly choked on a peanut when he read the last text, which was from Dani.

  Dinner at the food pantry is running a bit late. Crazy woman tried to hold the chicken prisoner, but baseball players disarmed her and sent her on her way. Hopefully, she won’t come back with a bigger knife.

  As he read the words “bigger knife,” Spencer leaped to his feet and checked his ankle holster. Once he had made sure his weapon was in place, he ran out of his office and shouldered open the door to the stairwell.

  He took the steps two at a time, and as soon as he burst through the exit, he sprinted for his truck. Although he knew better, he read the rest of Dani’s text while he drove.

  If the TV crews stay out of our way, we should be serving around six. Try to get here by then because we could really use the help since some volunteers were too scared to stay.

  It only took him a few minutes to drive from the security building to the food pantry, which was located just outside of the university’s campus. Spencer hurriedly parked, but quickly scanned the area before jumping out of his truck. The last thing he needed was to have his image flash across America’s television screens.

  After assuring himself that there were no news cameras around, he rushed in the direction of the small structure that housed the pantry. Nearing the front, he saw a line of people snaking around the corner. The crowd wore clean if faded clothing and were well-behaved.

  The folks who attended these dinners were those who lived on the fringes. It wasn’t usually the homeless that showed up for a hot meal. Instead, it was the elderly who barely made ends meet with social security. The single mothers who were trying to supplement their food stamps. And the marginally employed who couldn’t quite make their paychecks stretch to the end of the month.

  Hastily detouring toward the rear, Spencer glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes before six. If the lunatic who had threatened the volunteers was going to return, mixing in with the hungry throng waiting to go inside would be a good way for her to gain entrance to the facility. And, if that happened, he wanted to be with Dani in case she was the nutjob’s target.

  Spencer was relieved to see an enormous young man leaning against the back door. He probably wasn’t much more than eighteen or nineteen, but he was big enough to stop anyone that appeared to be a threat from entering.

  When the guy spotted Spencer, he straightened and narrowed his eyes.

  “Hey.” Spencer raised his hands palm forward and said, “The chef’s expecting me.”

  “Dani didn’t mention that she was expecting anyone.” The Hulk’s tone was protective.

  Spencer was caught by s
urprise at the tiny flicker of jealousy, but accepted it and decided to make his position clear. “I’m her boyfriend, Spencer Drake.”

  He took out his phone and showed the guy a picture of Dani. Best to get his status out in the open right now and avoid any misunderstanding with the ballplayers she mentioned in her text.

  “Udell Williams.” The big guy stuck out his hand and shook Spencer’s, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “Go ahead.”

  As Spencer passed him, he read the notice taped to the outside wall and chuckled. DON’T THROW YOUR CIGARETTE BUTTS ON THE FLOOR. THE COCKROACHES ARE GETTING COPD.

  Walking inside, Spencer found himself in a small storage alcove. The shelves were lined with nonperishables and off to the side a huge chest freezer hummed. A large calendar was pinned to a bulletin board, its squares holding notations in various colors.

  Next to it was an industrial-size mixer with a sign stuck to it that read: THIS MACHINE HAS NO BRAIN. USE YOURS. It appeared that someone working at the food pantry had a sense of humor.

  Moving past a pallet of generic paper products, Spencer stepped into the kitchen. His gaze immediately went to Dani, who was bending over a stove sticking a thermometer into a huge roasting pan.

  It took less than a nanosecond to realize that he wasn’t the only male admiring the view. Spencer scowled at the two men who had stopped what they were doing and were staring at Dani’s rear end.

  They must be the other two ballplayers that Dani had mentioned. Now that Spencer looked at them, he recognized the blond as Marc Chandler, an up-and- coming pitcher, and the other guy as Perry O’Toole, the Korn King’s catcher. They, along with the man at the door, had been in the Normalton News quite a bit lately due to the rumors that they might be moving up to the majors soon.

  Even as he was identifying the jerks who dared to look at Dani that way, Spencer moved to her side and said, “That smells great. If it’s ready, can I get it out of the oven for you, honey?”

  Clearly bemused at the endearment—he hadn’t used one for her since they started dating—Dani’s pretty eyes widened, then she must have figured it out and smiled. “That would be great, sweetie. Put it on the counter by the serving window and I’ll let the director know we’re ready.”

  Following Dani’s instructions, he placed the hot pan next to a large bowl of salad and a tray of garlic bread. Volunteers were lined up, ready to start serving food as the diners picked up their plates and passed by the window.

  Once the director made the announcement, it only took a few seconds before people were three deep, creating a human wall blocking any view to the rest of the area. The triple line snaked twice around the perimeter of the room.

  As Dani walked the row of volunteers, directing them on the health department required methods of serving, she reiterated, “Stick to the portion size I’ve outlined. If we have any leftovers, we can allow diners to come through a second time, but we want to have enough for everyone.”

  Spencer peered out and saw a television crew aiming their camera at the baseball players as they served the first folks in line. He swiftly turned his head so his face wouldn’t be recorded and wondered if the diners were okay with being filmed.

  But it only took a few seconds for Spencer to realize that the cameraman appeared to be focused on Marc and Perry and not the ones receiving the food or anyone else for that matter. All the viewer would see was the back of people’s heads.

  After donning the mandatory pair of plastic gloves, Spencer took his post and started handing out two slices of bread per person. It didn’t take long for him to understand why Dani had repeated her portion speech so many times. A lot of the folks requested extra pieces.

  Service went quickly and they were nearly out of food when it became apparent that the last dozen or so folks in line would not get a plate. Spencer looked around and motioned to Dani who hurried toward him.

  When she got close enough, he whispered, “We only have five portions left. What are we going to do when we run out?”

  Dani kept her voice low. “Slow down handing out the food a bit. I’ll go start making peanut-butter-and- jelly sandwiches for the rest of them.”

  Hoping there wasn’t a riot, Spencer nodded and passed the word among the volunteers to stall while Dani got together an alternative meal. Then he handed off his bread duties and went to the pantry to see what was available.

  While Dani made a couple dozen PB&J sandwiches, Spencer found a basket of apples and several bags of potato chips. They were plating the substitute dinner when he heard a commotion out front.

  “Stay here,” Spencer ordered as he edged past Dani and peered out into the dining room, sure that the knife-wielding crazy was back.

  He blew out a sigh of relief when he saw that the problem was a woman trying to duck in next to a man who was gesturing for her to join him.

  Cutting in a line at the food pantry was akin to cheating on an exam at West Point. At the least, it could get you thrown out, and at the worst, you might find yourself on the wrong end of a fist.

  Spencer exited the kitchen and stepped between the woman and the rest of the crowd. “Sorry, ma’am, please go to the back of the line.”

  “That’s my wife.” The man tugged the woman toward him. “I’ve been saving her place because she can’t stand too long on account of her bad knees and hips.”

  Spencer examined the frail woman and wished he could make an exception for her. But because they were nearly out of the hot meals, he just couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to the person whose dinner she’d eat.

  Striving for a fair alternative, Spencer looked at the husband and said, “You’re welcome to give her your spot or go to the back with her, but the sign clearly states that there is no saving places or cutting.”

  “But…” the man started, then sighed deeply, considered his options, and said, “I’ll go to the back and she can have my place.”

  Spencer patted the guy’s shoulder. “Good man.” The poor fellow was nearly as skinny as his wife and Spencer wished there was a way both of them could have the hot food.

  Watching the man trudge to the back of the line, Spencer saw someone staring at him. The person quickly ducked out the exit, but not before Spencer recognized him.

  Although Spencer had only gotten a glimpse and the man certainly didn’t look anything like he had in Chicago a couple of years ago, Spencer was pretty darn sure the guy had been Brock Ortiz. What was his former best friend doing in a food pantry line in downstate Illinois?

  Chapter 19

  Dani was relieved to turn over kitchen cleanup to the group that had volunteered for that task. Her crew had continued to serve food until there wasn’t anyone left in line, but the last twelve or so people had been handed a plate with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, an apple, a small bag of potato chips, and a packet of cookies, rather than the meal they had been anticipating for the past hour.

  It was cruel to be surrounded by the garlicky tomato-scented air and be stuck eating a PB&J. To smell the roasting lemon chicken, then to have nothing more than a cold sandwich to fill your stomach was just plain wrong.

  Those people’s disappointed faces haunted Dani. And she vowed that next month there would be more than enough food for everyone to get a hot dinner, even it meant dipping into her own Chef-to-Go supplies.

  She was glad that the television crew had left once they’d filmed the baseball players serving a few people. She’d hate to have the viewers see that the hot fare had ran out before everyone got a meal.

  Sadness for those last few folks was lodged in Dani’s throat as she turned to talk to her staff. “Thank you all for helping out. We’d love to have you come again in November and bring your friends. It will be our Thanksgiving meal and we expect at least fifty percent more diners so we’ll need as many hands as we can get, and also any donation of food would be appreciated.” She
passed out a list of ingredients. “These can be dropped off here between now and then.”

  Watching the expression of the volunteers as she spoke, Dani saw that most were nodding that they’d be back and comparing notes as to what they could contribute. Only Marc Chandler and Perry O’Toole exchanged glances and smirked at her requests.

  Dani rolled her eyes. She was pretty darn sure she’d seen the last of those guys.

  Her crew, including Marc and Perry, left as soon as she finished her speech. After they had cleared out, Dani went to the restroom and changed from her chef’s jacket into her sweater, freshened her makeup, and combed out her hair. Exiting from the bathroom, she looked around for Spencer.

  She was texting him to find out his location, when she heard, “I’ll be here next month.”

  Dani hadn’t noticed Udell Williams walking up behind her and she jumped, then turned and said, “Great.” She patted the big man’s arm. “Maybe next time you can help out in the kitchen instead of having to work security, but we sure appreciated you helping to keep everyone safe tonight.”

  “Wherever you need me is fine.” Udell ducked his head, then gave her a sweet smile. “I came with Perry and Marc because my Moms had to use the food pantry in our town a few times to keep my sisters and me fed. I send her what I can from my check, but the Middle American League doesn’t pay much.” He chuckled. “Heck. If I didn’t get free lodging and food, I’d be screwed. I make more off-season working as a custodian, but Moms wants me to live my dream.”

  “Of course she does.” Dani nodded, then frowned. “But I thought professional athletes made a lot of money.”

  “The ones on TV do.” Udell chuckled. “All of us playing for teams like the Korn Kings are there hoping that we’ll get noticed or improve enough to eventually get in the bigs.”

  “Does that happen often?” Dani asked. “How many players get into the majors?”

  “Enough that we’d all do just about anything to be the lucky ones picked.” Udell shrugged. “Think about it. We go from barely scraping by financially to earning millions. From obscurity to stardom.”