Kernel of Truth (19 page)

As in Leslie Stephens? “Who's LSteph to the food critic?”

He shrugged. “Girlfriend, I think.”

I guess I'd have to forgive Leslie Stephens for serving me papers if she also served my fudge to a food critic. Antoine had no idea what he'd started.

*   *   *

I was still
thinking about Antoine and Leslie Stephens when I finally got home. I glanced at the clock. It was eight o'clock here. I'd missed Friday night dinner. But it would only be six o'clock in California. Antoine would be elbow deep in cooking at L'Oiseau Gris. He'd be overseeing the kitchen and the serving staff. He'd be tasting and chopping and fixing the disasters that happened pretty much every night in a busy kitchen. It would be a terrible time to call
him. He would be busy and distracted. I picked up my cell phone and dialed.

He answered on the second ring. I knew he would. “Rebecca, is everything all right?”

“I cannot believe you hired a private detective to follow me around.” I leaned back on the couch and put my feet up on the arm, stretching out my full length. I could hear voices and a lot of clanging and banging in the background. Antoine would be on his feet for at least another five hours, and he was even older than I was.

“Ms. Stephens let me know you had, how did she say, made her?” He made it sound kind of sexy.

“Yeah. I made her.” And served her fudge and coffee before she served me court papers.

He sighed. “Rebecca, darling, I was concerned for you. You would not tell me what you were doing or how you were doing so I found a way to stay informed.”

This was one of the problems with Antoine. He made everything sound so reasonable, including having hired a private detective to follow his ex-wife. I was pretty sure that he actually thought it was reasonable. It was so not. “I wasn't keeping you informed because my life is none of your business. I'm not married to you anymore. Remember?”

“You will always be my business. I will always love you.” I could imagine him standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hand on his heart as he said that. Chaos would be erupting around him. He would be like the eye in the center of a storm. It was actually kind of romantic. This kind of gesture was his meat and potatoes. It was exactly how he'd kept me with him for as long as he had. It was hard for a girl to resist that.

“Oh, Antoine.” I didn't know what else to say.

“Come home, Rebecca. Come back to me. Your little
town is full of crazies. People are hitting little old ladies on the head. Teachers are driving into trees. You are being arrested every other day by your childhood friend. Come back to California.”

Funny, the offer wasn't so tempting anymore. Not so long ago, I'd felt a twinge every time he begged me to come back, a little something inside me that knew how much easier my life could be. The twinge was gone. I think I liked being the new action-oriented me. “No, Antoine. Thank you, but no.” I hung
up.

For the past
few nights, I'd been staying at the shop later and later every night, trying to keep up with the demand for the Coco Pop Fudge line. Every flavor was a huge hit. Saturday was the first night in three days that I'd managed to make it home while there was still a light on in Dan and Haley's house.

I tapped lightly at the door. Dan opened it a minute later. “Rebecca, you don't have to knock. It's kind of your house, too.”

“I expect you to knock at my place,” I pointed out, walking in.

“Your place is one big room. You could be naked.”

He had a point. “I've been meaning to show you this.” I pulled out the sachet and handed it to him.

“It'd be a nice little thing if it hadn't been chewed.” Dan handed the sachet back to me and walked into the living room.

I followed him and sat down on the rocking chair that had belonged to my grandmother. The embroidered seat was
getting a little faded, but it was still comfy. “Do you have anything like it down at the station?”

“You know, Huerta doesn't usually go in for potpourri. So no. This looks like an old-lady kind of thing.” He sat down on the couch.

“It is an old-lady kind of thing. Annie made them for Coco.” I tossed the sachet from hand to hand.

His face creased. “I get it. CB for Cordelia Bittles. That's sweet. Why would you think we had them at the station?”

I took a deep breath. “Annie said she left the sachets on Coco's back porch before she went home that night. Jasper saw them there at nine thirty. They weren't there the next morning. Jessica says she came in the front door that morning. The only person who should have them is whoever broke that back window and tried to make it look like someone broke in.”

“Rebecca, you're the one who has the sachet.” He looked like he was going to laugh.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Only one of them and that's because Sprocket stole it.”

“From whom?” Now he looked more interested.

“I'm not sure. It could be anybody who came into the shop, really.” The list of people I'd caught him stealing from was as long as my arm, and those were just the times I'd caught him. Where had he gotten that tennis ball, for instance? I had no idea.

“It has Coco's initials on it, Rebecca. Maybe he stole it from her.” Dan stretched and yawned.

“He didn't have the chance. Coco might have already been dead when Annie left them on the back porch.” My heart clenched at the thought of Coco lying there, cold and alone, for all those hours.

“So you think the murderer has been in your shop? Long
enough for Sprocket to steal something?” Dan asked, sitting upright.

It gave me chills, but it was exactly what I thought. “I guess so.”

Dan shook his head. “‘I guess so' isn't going to stand up in a court of law.”

“Don't you want it? As evidence?” I held it out toward him.

“The D.A. will laugh me into the deepest part of Lake Erie if I try to list Sprocket as part of the chain of evidence.” He reached down to pet Sprocket, who had lifted his head at the mention of his name.

“Fine,” I said, taking it back and sticking it in my purse. I couldn't win these days. If I didn't hand things over to Dan, he got mad. When I did, he ignored them. “But if you see someone with one of those, you should probably arrest them.”

He arched a brow. “Except you, of course.”

“I was hoping that went without saying.”

Dan asked, “Are you still walking to the shop in the morning?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Be careful. It's been a few days since Barbara was attacked at her store. We still don't know who's responsible.” He rubbed his chin.

“I always have Sprocket with me.”

Dan flopped back on the couch. “Great. Maybe he can steal a few more clues for me.”

*   *   *

It probably says
something about the state of crime in Grand Lake that Jessica's suit against me was scheduled to be heard within seventy-two hours of her filing it. We'd drawn Judge Maximilian Romero. He strode into the courtroom, robes flapping behind his six-foot-three-inch frame. He was
a man of size. Not fat. Just substantial. With wild bristling eyebrows and a salt-and-pepper beard. I smiled. This boded well for me. I knew an eater when I saw one and Judge Romero was definitely a good eater. He rapped his gavel and we all sat. I didn't even look to see if there was a chair.

The gallery was full. I hadn't realized how much interest the case had generated until I walked in with Garrett and saw Samantha Freeman from the
Grand Lake Sentinel
with Glenn Becker acting as photographer. I also saw Tom Moffatt, Jasper and a host of other Grand Lake personalities.

Jessica got to go first. She always got to go first. She had been going first since the first grade when we lined up according to height. I was really getting sick of it.

Russ Meyer, Jessica's boyfriend/lawyer, stood up to make his opening argument. He'd been in Haley's class at Grand Lake High. He'd been one of those normal kids. Smart, but not so smart he was neurotic. Athletic, but not a football star. Well-liked, but not super popular. Just a nice kid trying to do the right things. Now he was a nice guy in a nice enough suit, but he so wasn't doing the right thing. I had no idea how he'd gotten involved with Jessica. “If it please the court, it is our contention that Ms. Rebecca Anderson used her position of trust with the recently deceased Cordelia Bittles to gain access to her famed and very secret fudge recipe. That recipe has been left in Ms. Bittles's will to my client, Jessica James. Ms. James is the only person who should be making any kind of fudge using that recipe.

“Recently, Ms. Anderson has begun selling a confection she calls Coco Pop Fudge at her store, POPS. We allege that the Coco Pop Fudge recipe is actually Ms. Bittles's secret Signature Fudge recipe and that Ms. Anderson is further damaging my client by using Ms. Bittles's nickname, Coco, in the name of her confection. We would like her to cease and
desist in the making and selling of this fudge and to not use references to Ms. Bittles in the names of her products.”

Russ sat down. Jessica stroked his arm and smiled at me.

My boyfriend/lawyer stood up. I was pretty sure Garrett's suit had not come from Men's Wearhouse. The wool was a little too soft and draped a little too well for that. His hair had style without looking like he'd just stepped out of Ray Bob's Barber Shop over on Crocus Street. He moved like a guy who ran five miles along the lake every day. In other words, my boyfriend totally trumped Jessica's boyfriend. I sat back to listen to his opening argument.

“It's true, your honor. My client is well aware of Ms. Bittles's secret recipe. She worked for Ms. Bittles when she was in high school and the two remained close friends. In fact, Ms. Bittles had written up an extensive business plan for a joint venture with Ms. Anderson that would have excluded Ms. James.” Garrett picked up one of the business plan binders from a banker's box by his chair and thumped it onto the table.

Judge Romero held out his hand and Garrett carried the binder up to him. “You will note in the calendar section of the business plan, Ms. Bittles made a schedule for rolling out new products. We believe the first of those products were to be Coco Pop and Tuxedo Coco Pop Fudge.”

Russ stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. What proof does my colleague have as to which products Ms. Bittles was referring?”

“Mr. Mills?” Judge Romero asked.

“I'm coming to that, Judge. If you will give me a moment. While Coco Pop and Tuxedo Coco Pop Fudge are definitely in the style of Ms. Bittles's original recipe, they have been substantially altered. What's more, Your Honor, Ms. Bittles willingly collaborated with Ms. Anderson to develop Coco Pop and Tuxedo Coco Pop.”

Garrett held up my recipe notebook. “I have here the notes Ms. Anderson took in her personal recipe notebook as she and Ms. Bittles worked together on these recipes. A handwriting expert has confirmed both Ms. Anderson's and Ms. Bittles's handwriting in the notes detailing the development of Coco Pop and Tuxedo Coco Pop Fudge.”

Judge Romero wiggled his meaty fingers in a come-hither gesture, and Garrett brought him my recipe notebook encased in a plastic bag like there might be DNA on it, and the business plan binder. Then he returned to the table next to me but didn't sit. “Looking through that notebook, Judge Romero, I think you will find that what Ms. Anderson is doing and plans to do at POPS truly honors Ms. Bittles unlike the plans being made by Ms. James.”

Russ clambered to his feet again. “Your Honor, objection.” He sounded less enthusiastic, though. “How does Mr. Mills know what my client's plans are?”

Judge Romero turned back to Garrett. “Well, Counselor?”

Garrett held another piece of paper up in the air. “I have here a sworn affidavit from Mayor Allen Thompson regarding the overtures made to him by Miss James for the sale of Ms. Bittles's shop.”

Garrett didn't wait for the judge to ask him to come forward this time. He walked up to the bench and slapped it down. There was a buzz in the gallery. Apparently Jessica's plan to sell Coco's Cocoas was news to most of the town.

“I also have sworn affidavits from officers of no fewer than three chocolate companies.” Garrett paused and looked around at the gallery. “Three chocolate companies who have been contacted by Ms. James to see if they were interested in purchasing and/or licensing Ms. Bittles's secret recipes for her Signature Fudge. If anyone should cease and desist, it's Ms. James. Not Ms. Anderson.”

The spectators in the gallery gasped. The court reporter's head swung up, and she fixed Jessica with a glare. Coco had a lot of fans in a lot of places. No one was going to be too happy to find out what Jessica's plans were for that recipe or for the dismantling of everything that Coco had spent her whole life building.

Garrett went on. “What my esteemed colleague is failing to mention is that Ms. James's main concern with any infringement on the intellectual property represented by the Coco's Signature Fudge recipe is that she does not want it to be devalued before she sells it. She has no intent to honor Ms. Bittles's legacy. She intends to sell it to the highest bidder. She has already accepted an offer to sell Ms. Bittles's shop.”

Judge Romero held up his hand to stop Garrett. “While many people of Grand Lake, myself included, would be saddened to see Coco's Cocoas closed and her recipe sold to some large conglomerate, it is well within Ms. James's rights to do so. I believe Ms. Bittles's will left the recipe and the shop to Ms. James, free and clear.”

“True enough, Your Honor. While there is some evidence that Ms. Bittles was planning on changing her will in the near future, she did not get the chance to do so. The Signature Fudge recipe belongs to Ms. James.”

“Anything else, Counselor?” Judge Romero asked.

Garrett dropped his head and leaned with one hand on the table and then looked up sharply, a little like that surprised groundhog on YouTube, but handsomer. “Your Honor, I think we could actually put this matter to rest very quickly with one more item. There would be no need to waste any more of the court's time.”

“And that is?” Judge Romero said as he turned my notebook over in his hands.

“A taste test.”

Judge Romero's eyebrows went up. “Of?”

“A side-by-side taste test of Ms. Bittles's fudge next to Ms. Anderson's fudge.” Now Garrett pulled out tins of my newest offerings. “One taste will show that Ms. Anderson's confections truly honor Ms. Bittles for who she was, not what kind of price someone could get for her recipe, and do not use her exact recipe.”

“With who as the arbiter of the test?” Judge Romero sat up a little straighter.

“You, Your Honor.” Garrett smiled and leaned against the table.

“I'm not sure if I'm qualified,” Romero said, but he leaned forward to look at Garrett more closely.

“Trust me, Your Honor. One taste will be all it takes to settle this matter.” Garrett smiled. “One taste by an educated palate, that is.”

Romero tilted his head and thought for a second. Then he said, “Very well. Bring me the fudge.”

Russ stood. “Objection, Your Honor. We were not informed of this taste test.” He said the last two words as if Garrett had suggested a relay race to settle the matter. “Where does my colleague propose to get a sample of Ms. Bittles's Signature Fudge?”

Judge Romero looked at Garrett. “Mr. Mills?”

Garrett held up one of Coco's tins. “This tin contains a sample of Ms. Bittles's Signature Fudge, which she gave to Sheriff Dan Cooper as a birthday present three weeks ago. Sheriff Cooper has graciously consented for us to use this fudge for our taste test despite the fact that he was saving it for a special occasion.”

“Is Sheriff Cooper here?” Romero asked.

Dan stood up from his seat in the courtroom. “I am, Your
Honor, and I am willing to swear that this is the fudge given to me by Ms. Bittles.”

“Very well. That satisfies my need for chain of evidence.” Judge Romero motioned for Garrett to come up to the bench again.

Jessica pinched Russ and he leapt to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

Romero's giant eyebrows twitched. “On what grounds?”

Russ actually looked over at Jessica like she might have the answer. Apparently she didn't.

“Do you doubt the provenance of the fudge?” Judge Romero asked.

“No, Your Honor. I can see it is in one of Ms. Bittles's signature tins and Sheriff Cooper has always performed with the highest moral standards,” Russ said.

Judge Romero leaned forward. “Do you doubt my tasting ability?”

“No, of course not, Your Honor.” Russ's nose started to turn a little pink.

“Then I see no reason not to go forward.” Romero relaxed back onto his seat.