Chapter XVI – Adrian Terrence

Adrian and Xavier didn’t have an immediate plan. For awhile, they discussed possibilities for investigation in low tones that didn’t invite input from anyone else. Monique drifted off to sleep while they talked, Mr. Pickles tumbling onto the bench beside Xavier.

Fabian eventually sauntered away from Renee and Mary, coming to stand beside the table where the cousins sat, one finger tapping lightly against the top. “Are you going to begin investigating or just sit here chatting? Some people are getting antsy.”

“You, for instance?” Xavier looked the man up and down with a hint of amusement in his brown eyes.

“Not I.” He indicated the rest of the room with a vague movement of his head. “I am perfectly relaxed. There are others that are nothing short of high strung.”

Adrian resisted the urge to physically stop the man’s constant tapping. “We have decided to conduct interviews one-on-one. Would you care to be the first?”

Fabian grinned. “Would I care to be first? Sure.” Adrian moved down the bench to accommodate him, and the other man sat. “What is it that you want to know?”

Adrian pulled his writing notebook out of his coat pocket. He possessed a reasonably good memory, but thought that taking notes would be a wiser method of keeping records. He flipped past a few pages meant for his current book, titling the first clean one “Fabian Smith.”

“You said,” Xavier spoke in a low, even voice, entirely devoid of obvious emotion, “that you didn’t personally know Gary Bradshaw, but that you recalled seeing him in the café previously?”

Fabian raised a deprecatory hand and shook his head. “I said that I believed that I saw him in here last week. I wouldn’t swear to it.”

“Why not?” Adrian couldn’t help but wonder why the man seemed so cool and collected.

“Why not?” Fabian shrugged. “I only saw the man in passing, buried behind his tablet. We didn’t even meet each other’s eyes. Besides, it’s a bit difficult to match anyone to their living counterpart, once they’re dead, wouldn’t you say?”

Adrian couldn’t say that he agreed. In the few funerals that he had attended in his life, those departed resembled their living selves quite sufficiently for identification. He didn’t really see a point in arguing, however.

Fabian continued speaking. “I do believe that it is the same man though. Most people don’t use that booth that I’ve seen, except what’s-his-name.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, Timothy.”

“So you have noticed that few people use that table? For how long have you been visiting Café Chocolaté?” Adrian tapped his notebook lightly with his pencil once or twice.

“How long have I been visiting? Today? Or ever?”

Adrian set his pencil down altogether. “When did you first come inside?”

Fabian nodded. “When did I first come inside? About six months ago, I suppose.”

“How often do you come?” Xavier shifted Monique’s weight a little.

“How often do I come? Pretty nearly every day. I come for coffee. I don’t make it at home.”

“Just coffee? No food?” Xavier sounded skeptical.

Fabian leaned forward with a chuckle. “Have you tried the food here?”

Adrian couldn’t repress a bit of nodded assent at the unspoken declaration, when Fabian turned toward him.

“It isn’t good?” Xavier asked.

“Good? Frankly, it’s terrible.” Fabian shrugged and leaned back in his seat once more. “The coffee is superb – the kid knows what he’s doing. The chocolate – imported and perfection. The rest of the food though? I wouldn’t recommend anything I’ve tried. I don’t know what he does, but he even ruins a simple sandwich!”

“By ‘he’ you refer to Eddie McIntyre?” Xavier asked.

“Of course.” Fabian nodded. “I don’t know how he got hired.”

“The waitress, Ginger Thomas, doesn’t she prepare orders?”

Fabian chuckled again. “Not that I’ve ever seen. I don’t think she’s fond of that kind of work.”

Adrian frowned. While he had seen Eddie run the register on occasion, he realized that he hadn’t ever seen Ginger prepare a single order. Even when Eddie had been overrun. She just waited and made the customers wait as well. That is peculiar…

Fabian started tapping the table again. “Maybe the kid knows the owner or had a hard luck story or something. Who knows? Maybe they think his coffee skills outshine everything else.”

“Maybe no one has really complained.” Adrian tried to ignore the tapping. “I know that I haven’t.”

“I suppose.” Fabian grinned. “I would have complained, if I knew who to complain to. That was the worst sandwich I’d ever had!”

Adrian decided that they had rather wandered off the subject, and a glance at Xavier confirmed that he seemed to agree.

“Were you well acquainted with any of our friends here before today?”

“Was I well acquainted with any of them? Goodness, no. Seen them, of course, but I didn’t even know the names of any of you.” Fabian glanced around the room and smiled slightly. “They’re a mixed bunch, aren’t they? Can you imagine…” His eyes glinted with humor as he turned toward the cousins again. “Can you imagine if we’re all locked in here for 24 hours? 48?”

Adrian had considered a similar scenario, but hearing Fabian suggest it gave the idea a new and chilling aspect. He stared down at his notebook, picturing the possible scene.

I don’t know what state we would be in for certain by this time tomorrow, but it won’t be a good one. This time forty-eight hours from now? We’ll have some desperate people.

Fabian smiled grimly. “Quite a thought really, isn’t it. Some of us will probably kill each other if we wait too long. Some of us will go hungry, while others will succumb to bad food. Or maybe we’ll boot Eddie out of the kitchen and try our hands at making something decent!”

A shout from one of the women caused the men to turn, while the child whimpered.

“I said to leave him alone! I meant it.” Ginger’s eyes blazed and she pounded a fist on the table. Beside her, Eddie shook his head, while Mary sat across from her with a dropped jaw. Ginger struck the table again. “Leave him alone – and so help me, if you scream or even begin to scream, I’ll throttle you before Eddie can do a thing to stop me!”

Adrian sighed. Here we go again… What do we do with those two, Lord?

Fabian raised an eyebrow, cocking his head in Ginger’s direction. “See what I mean? 24 hours looks fascinating already…”

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Chapter XV – Timothy Teller

Timothy hadn’t expected Adrian to pray aloud. He never would have done so. It never would have occurred to him. It almost made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t have told why. It shouldn’t have.

I’m a Christian. Why does listening to another Christian talk to the Lord make me uncomfortable outside of church or the dinner table?

Adrian’s prayer didn’t last long. He kept it short and to the point, thanking the Lord for hearing him, asking for wisdom, guidance, and protection. Then, he ended by praying for repentance for the perpetrator, and praising God for Who He is.

A silence followed his prayer. Not awkward, really, but almost questioning. As if several in the room weren’t sure of what they just witnessed and if they were allowed to act normal at the end of it.

“Xavier and I will confer and decide our best course of action.” Adrian seemed to anticipate further questions from Ginger, as he nodded in her direction.

Timothy still shifted under his unease regarding that prayer. Anna coughed, but when he looked at her, she seemed far away in a world of her own.

Kimberly stood with a huff and joined them, dropping a cup of black coffee onto the table with rather more force than necessary. “Just what does he think he is?”

“I’m sorry?” Timothy had no idea to whom Kimberly’s words directed.

She huffed again. “Subjecting us to all that praying. Prayer never did me an ounce of good and I don’t really care to listen to anyone else waste their breath!”

Timothy swallowed, willing himself to speak, but no words came. Kimberly kept going.

“This isn’t the dark reaches of Africa or the lands of the Aborigines. If he wants to be a missionary, he should go someplace else!”

Timothy looked away. Except he literally can’t.

“His prayer didn’t sound meant for us.” Anna moved her arm gently, wincing in pain. “I thought it sounded like a genuine petition and glorification directed to God.”

“If he had no idea of witnessing, as they call it, then he should have left his prayer in his head, Anna. No need to foist it on the rest of us!”

Timothy felt like he ought to have something to say, but he didn’t. He, at least, ought not to agree with the woman, but he nearly felt inclined to. Only, he didn’t know why. The thought bothered him as much as his earlier unease.

Anna hadn’t replied either and her blank expression told little about her thoughts.

Kimberly apparently took their silence as a cue to keep talking, because after a beat or two, she moved to her next subject.

“The way that he and his cousin are coddling that little brat is going to make us all miserable before long. I can’t stand it when people baby a child who ought to be straightened out!”

“She was crying.” Timothy found his voice. “She didn’t scream or throw a fit. She was just crying.”

“Because you’re a father and know the difference?” Kimberly folded her hands around her coffee and leveled her eyes at Timothy.

“No, I’m not. I do have five younger sisters though, so I have a good idea of what little girls are like.”

Kimberly blinked rapidly, as if trying to process this new information. At last, she took a sip of her coffee. “My daughter would never have behaved in such a way.”

“Your daughter would have stuffed down every emotion she had while you were nearby, in fear of your punishment or scolding, and then cried when she found a safe place to do so.” Anna shook her head when Kimberly started to respond. “Maybe that poor child over there found someone who makes her feel safe.”

“Safe?” Kimberly slammed the coffee onto the table. Several other people in the café glanced toward her. “Anna Carpentier, my daughter never looked for a safe place or safe person to cry with in her life!”

“How would you know?” Tears glistened in the bright green eyes. “She never would have told you!”

Timothy wanted to leave the conversation. He felt like an intruder. Kimberly, however, decided to address him next.

“This is what you get.” She looked at him, using the same heartless tone that he had identified earlier. “You do your best all of your life, only to get your work twisted and thrown in your face. And by those who ought to be the first to praise you!”

Timothy had absolutely no idea what to say. He hardly knew what the woman meant.

Anna choked at the last words.

“Very good. Add disrespecting your elders to your list for today, Anna.” Kimberly huffed and picked up her coffee once more. “I should have expected it.”

“I didn’t say anything at all.” Anna squeezed her arm tighter.

“You showed plenty.” Kimberly shook her head at Timothy. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would prefer not to be dragged into a conversation that I know so little about.” Timothy tried to sound respectful, but firm. “I hope that you understand.”

Kimberly shrugged. “Very diplomatic of you, but I can’t say I blame you either.” She jumped to her feet quite suddenly. “I think I’ll go sit alone again. It’s more peaceful and less painful.”

Neither Timothy nor Anna tried to stop her. Timothy almost felt relief as she moved off.

“I assume that you understood far more of what she said than I did.”

Anna nodded, still watching the woman. “She had a gentler side once. It showed at times. I’m not sure it exists anymore.”

“You’ve known her awhile then?”

Anna smiled at him just barely; a truly sad smile. “All of my life.”

“What made her change so much then?”

Anna glanced at Kimberly again. “Her husband died two years ago after a long and terrible illness.” She sighed heavily, the tears glistening again. “A few months ago, she lost her only daughter, as well.”

Timothy looked back toward the gray-haired woman, who had returned to her lonely seat, her coffee held tight between both hands.

“Everyone has a story, Timothy.” Anna waved her hand lightly to indicate the room. “No matter how unpleasant some of them – or even all of them – may be, everyone has a story. It doesn’t excuse them, but when you know their story, you can often understand the person behind it far better.”

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Chapter XIV – Adrian Terrence

Xavier’s sigh reached Adrian and he mirrored it. The little girl’s sobs wrenched his heart. The little arms clung tight to his cousin’s neck and her shoulders shook convulsively.

“It’s not brave to cry!”

Adrian sighed again. Why would such a small child need to be brave? Who would leave her alone to be brave on her own?

Despite the tears, Adrian almost enjoyed seeing his cousin with the girl. He knew how much Xavier and Louise had wanted children, but Adrian had forgotten how gentle and protective Xavier became around children. How much he cared about them – even when he didn’t know them for very long.

A huff from, he thought, Kimberly Liath, distracted him. She followed it up with a retort. “She’s still crying. For goodness sake! If she were my child, there would be an end to all the fussing!”

Adrian saw a flash of anger settle on his cousin’s face, as he continued to sooth the little girl.

“I doubt it,” Fabian muttered.

“You shouldn’t!” Kimberly’s voice reminded Adrian of metal striking stone. “I’ll have you know that my daughter would never behave in such a noisy, distracting manner! She knew how to behave because I know how to parent! The present child is selfish and ill behaved, and she’s being spoiled! If I had any say in the matter, she would be punished, and I can assure you she would be quiet!”

Xavier clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth so hard that Adrian could almost hear it. Monique choked on a sob, even though she had begun to grow quieter.

“Punishment would be overkill.” Eddie’s frown deepened with the disgust in his voice.

“Not at all! She’s being a brat!”

“You can’t be serious.” Adrian hurried to speak before Xavier had a chance. His cousin usually remained calm regardless of other people, but Adrian knew when to recognize a swiftly shorting fuse.

“Of course, I’m serious!” Kimberly’s gray eyes looked cold, but determined.

Monique’s muffled sniffle punctuated the woman’s reply and Adrian shook his head. “Who here is not frightened at all?” He didn’t speak harshly. He felt too much sorrow over the woman’s cold manner and Monique’s tears. “She’s a child. Created to be taken care of and protected by those of us who are older and more capable. She needs comfort, prayer, and reassurance, not punishment.”

“Sounds like spoiling to me.”

“It sounds loving to me.” Renee sighed. “Leave the poor girl alone. She’ll quiet soon, I think.”

Kimberly huffed again and tightened her crossed arms.

“What are we supposed to do next?” Ginger sat at the table folding a napkin over and over on itself.

“Do?” Adrian repeated.

Ginger looked up at him quickly, a startled look in her eyes. “Not with the kid. I meant in general. We’ve got a murderer on our hands and a killer on the loose.”

Mary’s wide eyes danced wildly toward Eddie. He gave her a wary glance and sat down.

“We do find ourselves in a rather awkward situation, at best.” Fabian drew circles on the table in front of him with his index finger. “A murderer among his victims. A hunter among the hunted…”

“Or perhaps the murderer killed his victim and has no intention of harming anyone else.” Eddie still spoke with obvious disgust.

“Think of that, did you?” Ginger folded her napkin roughly.

“Oh, I did. There’s no colorful way to say that though.”

Ginger frowned at her napkin.

“We know who killed him!” Mary Dill began, but the combined reproof of the entire room, didn’t allow her to continue.

“We need more proof than what you offered.” Fabian didn’t look up, but continued drawing his circles. “We ought to do some investigating and see if we can discover who really killed poor Gary Bradshaw. That way we can be prepared to protect ourselves, should the need arise.”

“And if the killer comes after the rest of us?” Kimberly’s gray eyes bored into each in turn like hot coals. “What then?”

“I think it unlikely that they plan to take us all on.” Adrian wanted to diffuse the growing tension in the room. “Or kill anyone else in plain sight. Besides, if they wanted to do the former, what would have stopped them from doing it already?”

“We don’t know any of that!” Mary Dill ventured to speak again.

“That’s the problem. We don’t know anything.” Fabian nodded at his circles. “We need to know who the killer is. We need to be sure. I’m rather confident in my abilities and I would be happy to volunteer myself as investigator.”

“Absolutely not!” Ginger’s head snapped up and she crumpled her napkin.

Fabian dropped his circles in surprise and turned toward Ginger. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you and I never have!” Ginger’s eyes narrowed.

“I would never-”

“I said that I don’t trust you!” Ginger smacked the table and stood up. Adrian could see Eddie tried to remonstrate, but she pushed him aside impatiently. “I don’t want you investigating anything!”

Fabian crossed his arms. “I suppose you have someone better in mind then. Yourself? I can’t say that I trust you either.”

“No one can trust anyone.” Renee punctuated her statement with another sigh.

“I can trust my cousin.” Adrian said it aloud before he really thought it through.

“Agreed. The same is true on my end,” Xavier added. The child in Xavier’s arms had grown almost entirely quiet and still, only a soft whimper every now and then giving an audible reminder of her tears.

“You’re absolutely sure that you can trust each other?” Ginger crossed her arms and even her stance looked skeptical.

“I’m sure of it,” Adrian said.

“Then,” Ginger dropped her arms, “you two do the investigating. He’s a lawyer and, how did he put it? The only representative of the law of the United States in this café. You seem to have put yourselves in charge anyway.”

Adrian shook his head. “I’m not convinced that we should even be attempting an investigation in the first place!”

“We need an investigation.” Timothy moved in his chair and looked around the room. “A murderer can’t just run among us unchecked.”

“An investigation conducted by the wrong person could be worse than no investigation at all.” Anna Carpentier spoke in a weary voice, almost as if to herself.

“So, we vote someone in, who we think won’t betray us or botch it up.” Ginger nodded toward the cousins, giving Adrian a sense of unease. “Who agrees that those two should do the investigating? One of them is a lawyer and the other is an author!”

“Prime material according to television shows.” Fabian smiled with some amusement, but Ginger apparently missed it.

“Exactly! Televised stereotypes are there for a reason!”

Adrian raised his eyebrows. Which could be that there’s no reason founded in reality whatsoever. It’s just that people find it endearing.

Ginger pushed forward, raising a hand. “Who thinks that they should investigate?”

The vote moved swiftly, starting with Fabian and Eddie, and ending with Kimberly.

Adrian shook his head and turned toward Xavier with a grimace. “I can’t say that I’m sure this is a good idea, Cousin.” He spoke in a guarded undertone.

Xavier smiled vaguely. “I can’t either, but if we don’t, one of them will. It’s possible that we can keep the peace while doing it, better than some people.”

“Possible. What…” He glanced around the room. “What do we do if we succeed though?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m rather hoping that we’ll get out of here before we have to decide that, but if not, we should think about it.”

Adrian nodded. “That was a helpful answer.”

For the first time since the explosion, though quiet, Xavier laughed.

“So?” Ginger sounded impatient. She stood, her arms crossed again, her ponytail bouncing with the tapping of her foot. “Will you do it?”

Adrian glanced at his cousin one last time. “We’ll investigate. Though I trust that we’ll get out of here before we reach any conclusions.”

“What will you do first then?” Ginger sat down again. She grabbed the beat up napkin and began fiddling with it once more.

Adrian didn’t respond directly. What do we do first, Father? I’m not confident that we even know what we’re doing.

Everyone in the room seemed to be waiting impatiently. Adrian looked at Xavier, who mouthed a single word. Adrian relaxed.

“We’ll pray first.”

“Do what now?” Fabian raised an eyebrow and, for the first time, sounded actually startled.

“Pray.” Adrian repeated. “This entire situation needs to be brought before the Lord and the investigation of the murder is no exception to that.”

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Chapter XIII – Monique Rodriguez

“She wants to kill me!” The woman’s shriek hurt Monique’s ears. Again.

The other woman opened her mouth to yell something. She looked so angry, her eyes hard and cold.

Monique took a mere glance at the angry expression on the waitress’s face, combined with the scream still echoing in the café, and the child burst into tears. She buried her face into Mr. Pickles fur, but even he did little to muffle the sound of her cries. She tried to keep them back, but she couldn’t; the tears, the sobs, the wrenching in her lungs and throat. They just kept coming.

Monique couldn’t see nor hear very much as she sobbed, her own voice blocking her hearing. Mr. Xavier put his arm around her and Mr. Pickles had never been so wet. Her stomach hurt, her head hurt, and she couldn’t breathe through her nose, but she couldn’t calm down either.

She coughed, Mr. Pickles nearly slipping through her arms. We’re supposed to be brave, Mr. Pickles. But I’m so scared and so tired. I wish Mommy and Daddy were here.

She coughed again, choking and spluttering, but the tears kept coming. I’m so scared and so tired. I want it all to stop, but it won’t. I’m so scared and I’m not being brave!

“Will someone stop that child’s wailing?” Monique recognized the rough voice of the gray-haired woman – Kimberly something – through the fog of her sobs.

The arm around her shoulders tightened, reminding her all the more of Daddy. She tried to choke down the next sob, but ended up in a short coughing fit instead.

“Seriously!” The woman’s voice cut through the air again.

The man beside her stiffened.

“She’s just a scared kid. Give her a break!” Another voice answered from across the room. Looking up through her tears, Monique saw Eddie still on his feet, his arms crossed as he stared in the direction of the Kimberly lady.

“Scared!” Mary Dill screeched. “Who here isn’t scared! She doesn’t have a monopoly on it!”

“She’s a kid!” Eddie snapped.

Monique swallowed, her sobs quieter. She still clung to Mr. Pickles.

“Kid or not, she’s making a lot of noise!” Kimberly growled.

“Oh, lay off.” Fabian Smith shrugged and shook his head. “Mary has been wailing since the first explosion. The kid has done great, considering.”

Monique looked toward the man through tear blurred eyes and he smiled in her direction. Terror sent needles zipping through her entire body and she began to shake terribly.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Mr. Xavier bent over her and spoke gently.

She raised her eyes up to his face, nearly dropping Mr. Pickles as her hands and arms trembled. The tears, ever slowly making their way down her cheeks, began to pick up speed once more.

The man watched her with concern, his forehead creasing as her tears continued. “Can you talk to me about it?”

Monique shook her head. “I-I don’t know!”

“You don’t know? Why would you not be able to talk to me?”

The child sniffled and sobbed. “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

Mr. Xavier shook his head this time. “I can’t understand you, sweetheart. What was that?”

Monique swallowed and repeated herself, trying to speak more clearly.

“Not allowed. Who says?” Mr. Xavier pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Who says that you’re not allowed?”

Monique shuddered, then looked toward Fabian again, the smile still on his face.

“I – I don’t like him.” Even she could hear her voice crack and waver, before ending in another sob.

Mr. Xavier followed her gaze across the room. “Why don’t you like him?”

Fabian Smith laughed at something the lady beside him said, sending another shudder through her body. We’re supposed to be good. I don’t know if talking is being good, Mr. Pickles.

“Monique?”

She looked back at Mr. Xavier, her tears breaking out afresh. “I just don’t like him. I can’t say why.”

The last word ended in a muffled sound that she couldn’t have described. She tried to bury her face into Mr. Pickles wet, matted fur, but he’d grown too wet and compacted to be much good anymore. I’m so scared, Mr. Pickles. Another sob. I’m so scared and I can’t stop crying!

She cried harder, her shoulders heaving until they almost ached. Her tummy hurt and the lump in her throat only seemed to grow.

Mr. Xavier still had his arm around her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

She shook her head violently, her cheek rubbing against Mr. Pickles again.

“You mean that you don’t think it’s going to be okay?” Mr. Xavier asked softly.

This time she nodded.

“Can you tell me why you think that?”

She saw Fabian Smith’s smile in her head, heard Mary Dill’s screams, and remembered the morning injunction to sit still and be very good, no matter what happened. A terrible shudder, worse than any other, shook her. She couldn’t keep her cries quiet and she couldn’t keep the words from bursting out of her.

 “Because Mommy and Daddy are gone and they can’t come back!” A sob choked her again. She knew her voice shook and sounded anything but brave. “They’re gone and they aren’t coming back, and everything just gets worser and worser, not better!”

She didn’t know why speaking made her cry harder, but she could hardly breathe, the sobs came so sharp and close together.

Her daddy used to say that she was small for her age. He used to call her his tiny princess. She remembered it for some reason, when Mr. Xavier reached around and lifted her from her seat. He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close against his chest and shoulder.

No one had done so since Mommy and Daddy died. No one had even let her hug them since Mommy and Daddy died. Not anyone she felt safe with.

Mr. Xavier felt safe. Like Daddy when he used to carry her around when she was sick or when he used to sing to her when she had a bad dream.

She held tight to his neck, afraid that he would put her back in her seat, still unable to stop crying. “We’re supposed to be brave!”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Mr. Pickles.” She choked and coughed again. “Mr. Pickles and me, we’re supposed to be very brave. Crying isn’t brave.”

She felt Mr. Xavier sigh and she wondered if he felt sad. Had she made him sad?

“You are very brave, sweetheart.” His voice sounded sad too. “But it’s okay to cry.”

“It’s not brave to cry!” She didn’t understand why the tears wouldn’t stop. She hid her face, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Mr. Xavier sighed again and squeezed her tighter, gently stroking her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you and you can be brave when you’re all done crying, okay?”

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