Kernel of Truth (10 page)

The next day
after Susanna got to the shop in the afternoon, I walked up the steps of the Grand Lake Sheriff and Fire Department as promised. It was a great building, at least from the outside. All arches and stone and carved lintels. It had been built in the 1930s and had that serious weathered look that old buildings got after they had some decades under their wainscoting. Dan bitched about it nearly nonstop. They had had no clue about the kind of wiring needed for sophisticated 911 call systems and Internet connections in 1934 or the kind of staffing it would require to run even a small town sheriff's department.

I slowed my steps at the top of the stairs. I didn't want to go in. I didn't want to see Jasper, but I'd promised Dan and Garrett. I pushed open the heavy doors and walked up to the reception area. Deputy Huerta sat at the main desk.

“Hi, Glenn,” I said, leaning my elbows on the high marble surface. “I'm here to see Jasper.”

He shook his head. “If I'd known I could get all the single
ladies of Grand Lake to come visit me, I'd have gotten myself arrested years ago.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I scribbled my name in the visitor register. He didn't need to answer. I saw the name on the line above mine. Jessica.

The whole town would miss Coco, but I doubt anyone grieved for her the way Jessica and I did. I felt a connection to Jessica because of that, and it made me want to hug her. At the same time, I couldn't forget the intentional way she'd snubbed Annie and me—Coco's closest friends—at the funeral, using other vendors for the flowers and popcorn snacks. That made me want to pull her hair. I was glad I'd missed her. If I'd had to talk to her, my head might have exploded.

“What did Jessica want?” I set the pen back down.

Huerta shrugged. “Same as yesterday, I guess. Wanna cookie?” He pushed the box toward me.

I looked inside. Snickerdoodles. A solid choice. “Doesn't Jasper want them?”

“She brings a dozen by every day. He can't keep up.” Huerta took one and took a bite.

Well, they weren't poisoned. That was for sure. I took one. The flavor wasn't bad, but the texture was all wrong. Either she hadn't let the butter soften and the eggs come up to room temperature before she started or she'd overmixed or both. I wrapped the rest of the cookie up in a napkin. I wasn't going to waste the calories on a substandard Snickerdoodle. “Garrett said Jasper wanted to talk to me.”

Huerta pointed at Sprocket and said, “He has to stay with me. He can't go into the interrogation room with you.”

“Fine, but don't feed him any cookies.” I handed over the leash.

Huerta nodded and motioned for me to follow him. “Jasper's made it real clear he wants to talk to you. You going
to be okay talking to him alone? He's said that he doesn't want anyone listening in on your conversation.”

Was I? I supposed so. “It's . . . safe, right?”

Huerta rubbed the back of his head. “Well, he doesn't have access to any frying pans in there. It should be okay.” He opened the door to a small room with a table that was bolted to the floor and two chairs. “I'll bring him in in a second.”

I settled myself on one of the hard plastic-and-chrome chairs and waited. Huerta was back with Jasper nearly as fast as he'd promised. Jasper was wearing handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit with legs that were too short and arms that were too long. It was a slight improvement over his usual clothes in that the jumpsuit was clean. Huerta cuffed him to a metal ring in the table. He pointed to a button on the wall. “Hit that if you need help.”

Then he was gone.

Jasper leaned across the table and whispered, “I didn't do it, Rebecca.”

Even with the jumpsuit and the cuffs, he somehow looked more together than any other time I remembered seeing him. There was something about his eyes. They weren't circling wildly. Also his hair was brushed. That always helped people look a little more together. Maybe finally having done something unforgivably crazy had shaken him sane.

“Why are you whispering?” I asked. “I'd think your innocence would be something that you'd pretty much want to let everyone know. Maybe even take an ad out in the
Sentinel
. They get pretty good circulation on Tuesdays.”

“I'm not joking.” He threw himself back in the chair.

“Fine. You're not joking. Why should I believe you?” There was something weird going on. Jasper was looking me in the eye and not muttering to himself.

He cocked his head to one side. “Because you're probably
one of the few people in this town who would understand what I've been doing all these years. I figured I could explain it to you and maybe you'd explain it to your boy, Sheriff Dan. Then he'd see these charges are bogus and let me out.”

“Dan is not my boy. He's my brother-in-law.” Why I thought that was the part of that statement to pounce on, I'm not sure.

“Fine. Brother-in-law. BFF. Bestie. Brother from another mother. Whatever you want to call him. You two have been tighter than twins for years.” Jasper sat up straight and folded his hands on the table. “I want you to explain to Dan why I'm not crazy.”

“But I do think you're crazy, Jasper.” Everyone thought Jasper was crazy. Jasper talked crazy and acted crazy and looked crazy. I was pretty sure that all added up to crazy.

“Yeah. But I'm not. Hear me out, okay?” This was not how Jasper generally spoke. There were no weird half-quotations or references to conspiracies or biblical quotations thrown in for good measure.

I'd told Dan and Garrett I'd listen to Jasper. I liked to be true to my word. “Fine. Lay it on me.”

“I was a graduate student at the university in the seventies,” he said.

Fine. We were going way back, then. I could totally buy Jasper as a graduate student. Didn't sound crazy yet. “Go on.”

“I got involved with some of the antiwar demonstrations.” Jasper folded his hands on the table. “Really involved.”

I still had no idea where this was going that might possibly have anything to do with Coco's death, but I nodded.

“I got arrested.” Jasper looked down at his folded hands. “More than once.”

I couldn't help myself. “Jasper, what does this have to do with anything?”

“Hear me out.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “It's hard to keep up with your studies when you're in and out of lockup. Plus there were all those meetings . . .”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I flunked out.” His voice broke on the last word and tears stood in his eyes. “Me. A failure.”

It was clear how much it cost him to tell me that. “I'm sorry, Jasper. That must have been hard.”

He used his shoulder to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill onto his cheeks. “You have no idea. Hard and humiliating. I was the first person in my family to go to college and then I flunked out. It was crazy.” He stopped again. “So I went crazy. For a while.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “What kind of crazy?”

“The kind where maybe you drink a lot and take some pills and then they lock you up for a few days to keep you from hurting yourself. The kind that makes you realize that crazy isn't really worth it. When I got out, I went to the bus station and took the first bus. It was coming here. The last thing I wanted when I got off was to tell people what a failure I was. So instead I told them I'd just been released from Western Ohio Psychiatric, which was the truth. Just not the whole truth. Everyone left me alone. A few people who felt sorry for me left food out or gave me odd jobs now and then. I did a little panhandling. I inherited a little money when my folks passed on. Not a lot, but enough to keep me going. It hasn't been a bad life.”

I stared at Jasper, attempting to grasp what he was trying to tell me. Everything I knew about him had been an act to get sympathy, money, and food. I'd certainly fallen for it. So had Coco. Had it cost Coco her life?

“So, you see, I'm not crazy. It was just easier to pretend that I was crazy so I didn't have to deal with everyone
looking at me like I was a failure.” He smiled as if this explained everything.

This was enlightening, but I still wasn't sure why I was there. “And you felt you had to tell me this why? I mean, why not explain it to Dan or Huerta or your lawyer?”

“Because you, of all people, would understand.” He lifted his cuffed hands as far as they would go and pointed at me. “You could help me explain it to them.”

I still didn't get it. “Why?”

“Because, you know, you're, uh, well, the same.” Jasper's smile started to fade.

“You think I'm acting like a lunatic?” I knew some of my habits were a little too “California” for some people in Grand Lake, but I wasn't preaching about conspiracy theories in the park, and I bathed on a daily basis.

“No. I think you're a failure who had to come back to your hometown. You know how hard it is. You know how humiliating it can be with everyone whispering about you behind your back and pointing. So you'd get why it'd be easier to pretend to be crazy. That is, until someone tries to frame you for murder.” Jasper leaned forward onto the table.

I sat back. “Dude, that's seriously how you want to ask me for a favor? By telling me that you think I'm a failure?”

He blushed. “I get that it doesn't sound good when you put it that way.”

“Why didn't you ask Jessica for help? I heard she's in here every day anyway.” With substandard cookies, but still here.

“Jessica has never left here. She's never had to come back.” Jasper sucked in the ends of his mustache and chewed on them for a second. “Besides, Jessica is a lot more interested in you than she is in me.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “She keeps asking about what I saw out in the alley that night, if maybe I saw you coming or going or if there were lights on in your store.”

Now I sat back in my chair. “Did she say why?”

“No. She didn't. Then again, I didn't ask her.” Jasper drummed his fingers on the table. “You'll talk to Dan, then?”

“I don't think me telling him you're not crazy is going to change anything, Jasper.” After being called a failure, I didn't really feel like I had to put Jasper's mind at rest by telling him that Dan already thought he was innocent. Besides, wasn't acting crazy for all those years kind of crazy all by itself? Like maybe even crazier than actually being crazy?

Jasper got a wily look in his eye. “But you will talk to him?”

I shook my head. “Jasper, tell Garrett and Dan yourself. Leave me out of this.” Besides, he'd taken advantage of me and everyone else in town with his little act. Why should I do him any more favors?

Jasper tried to cross his arms over his chest, but couldn't because of the cuffs. “You are kind of mean, Rebecca.”

I stared at him. I supposed I was being a little mean. “Fine. I'll tell him, but Dan's still not going to let you out, you know,” I said. “At least not right away.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know. I should never have hit Glenn with that frying pan. I admit it. I panicked when they told me about Coco. It hadn't occurred to me that the money and the truffles were anything but a gift until then. That doesn't mean I should go down for murder, though.”

He was right. If I came home and found money and truffles on my doorstep, I'd think I'd hit the jackpot, not that someone was trying to set me up for murder. “I'll talk to him.” I stood up and knocked on the door.

“Rebecca,” Jasper said.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. Remember. I didn't do it. That means whoever did is still out there.”

*   *   *

We were running
low on butter and sugar at POPS. Normally I would have headed out to the warehouse store in Amherst, but I didn't have the energy or the time for it. Sprocket and I got into the Jeep. I even rolled the passenger side window down for him so he could loll his head out of the window and let his tongue wave like a freak flag in the breeze.

I hustled into the local grocery store and grabbed a cart. Susanna had lacrosse at five and I'd promised I'd be back in time so she wouldn't be late. If I kept moving, I'd just make it. I made it to the baking aisle, put two bags of white sugar and three of brown sugar into my cart and then half-jogged to the dairy section. I rounded the corner and walked smack-dab into my ex-husband.

Well, not my actual ex-husband. A life-size cardboard cutout of my ex-husband. Well, not actually life-size. Haley was right. Antoine wasn't that tall. Two-dimensional Antoine towered over me. Real Antoine was only about three inches taller than me.

Two-dimensional Antoine looked down at me, a twinkle in his eye, a half smile quirking up one side of his mouth and his hand stretched out toward me in invitation. I knew the look. He wanted me to try something. Something a little bit naughty. In this case, it was apparently the brand-new Belanger line of pasta sauces. Probably better than the time he'd wanted me to try that thing with the ice cube. Well, maybe not. The ice cube thing had been kind of fun.

I stared up into those blazingly blue eyes, caught in their beam like a deer in the headlights even if the beam was at
least half in my own mind. Haley had warned me. She'd tried to protect me from it. I'd forgotten, too wrapped up in Coco's death. Now I was standing in Kroger, unable to move, almost unable to breathe.

Antoine. I was never going to be able to get away from him. I was never going to be able to get away from any of my past. Everyone knew everything about me here. From my wild child days in high school to my marriage to a celebuchef to my divorce. What's more is everyone had an opinion. I was a loser, a failure, a bomb, a fiasco, a flop, a zilch, a zero, a big giant goose egg.

“You okay, miss?”

I turned. A pimple-faced boy wearing a dorky red hat and apron stood there. “Fine. I'm fine,” I said.