“Hmm,” grunted Bud. “I thought that road was blocked by a couple of concrete posts and a steel cable.”
“It is,” Joyce Koh said. “But the cable is loose and you can unhook it yourself.”
Johnny nodded. “The kids around here use it for a lovers’ lane sometimes.”
Mr. Koh glared at his daughter. “How do you know of this place, Joyce?”
“Everybody knows.” Joyce shrugged.
Her comment was followed by a string of Korean words.
“I never did,” Joyce insisted. “I just know about it. But it’s no big deal.”
Mr. Koh countered with more Korean.
“Order! Order!” Brainert cried, pounding his hammer.
Johnny stood up. “Stop arguing all of you!” he cried. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to turn myself in to Chief Ciders.”
All at once the Community Events room was plunged into silence.
“He’s right,” said Bud, rising. “Innocent men don’t run. And if we try to hide him, we’ll all get in trouble with the law.” His gaze found his nephew’s eyes. “We’ll go to Chief Ciders together.”
CHAPTER 19
I haven’t got the heart to see a nice-looking young man like you go to jail.
THE QUIBBLERS’ FAREWELL to Johnny was a sad sight. Linda and Milner wore grim faces as they wished him good luck. Joyce Koh tearfully hugged the young man with her scowling father looking on. Even my aunt Sadie, who usually maintained a flinty exterior, appeared a bit misty, and I realized she was not watching Johnny but Bud.
“Good luck, kid,” said Seymour, shaking Johnny’s hand. “If you ever need a good lawyer, look one up in the phone book, because you can do way better than me.”
“I second that assessment,” said Fiona.
After a final respectful nod from Judge Brainert, I escorted Johnny and Bud out of the Community Events room and through the dimly lit store. I unlocked the front door to let them out, and Johnny turned to face me. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. McClure. I left a note in your storage room. On that old desk. It’s for Mina. Could you make sure she gets it?”
I nodded. I had sequestered Johnny in that room until the meeting began. “I promise she’ll get your message first thing in the morning.”
“I told her everything.” He shook his head. “She’s been the best thing in my life since all the bad stuff happened. She made me start to feel good about myself and . . . I don’t know . . . to
“Mina cares about you, Johnny,” I assured him. “I haven’t known her long, but I don’t think she’s the kind of young woman who gives up on people. You’ll see.”
As they exited the store, Bud Napp put his arm on Johnny’s shoulder, gave his nephew a reassuring pat—a paternal gesture that just about tore my heart out.
“What’s your verdict, Jack?” I silently asked.
“But Johnny’s innocent,” I replied. “And Bud believes the court will clear him.”
“Huh?”
“But—”
I returned to the Community Events room, where a funeral pall had descended over the assembly. Seymour and Brainert were silently munching cinnamon rolls. Fiona clutched a cup of tea, and was leafing through a copy of
“Poor Johnny.” She sighed. “He’s so young and cute. It’s like, how could anyone so buff be a criminal? Bummer.”
“You think he’s innocent, then?” I asked.
Joyce blinked. “Don’t you?”
“I’d like to know what everyone else thinks.”
“Well, I think he’s been framed,” said Seymour. “And not because I represented the guy. I know those rich bums up in Newport. I’m sure one of them did it. They’re all pond scum.”
“That’s a blanket generalization,” said Brainert. “Overruled.”
“Listen, Judge, the trial’s over, and I speak of what I know.”
“What has the Newport set ever done to you, Seymour?” Linda asked.
“That’s easy. Remember last year, after I had to have my ice cream truck repainted after some dude’s guts got splattered all over it?”
I shuddered, recalling the murder of a young Salient House publicity assistant that occurred right in front of this store.
“That paint job set me back a few dollars, let me tell you. Plus I lost a week of selling while the work was getting done. My ice cream business struggled for the rest of the summer, until I feared I’d have to sell a few pulps to swell my bank account. I decided to extend the ice cream season, instead.”
Brainert adjusted his bow tie and huffed impatiently. “What’s your point, Tarnish?”
“Well, then came autumn and I was still working to make up for lost revenue. I was parked down at the Inn during Fiona’s Oktoberfest celebration when a few rich snots from Newport asked for sundaes. I whipped them up, served them up with a smile, and the a-hole who ordered them just walked away with his friends without paying— like it was free or something. I tried to collar them, but the guy just laughed. ‘It’s only ten bucks,’ he said, like it was too little of an amount to bother fishing out of his wallet. When I got more adamant, I was muscled by some bodyguard-type, and those a-holes just strolled away.”
Brainert frowned “That’s no reason to brand an entire class.”
“Why the hell not?” Seymour replied. “I’m like an elephant that way. Do me wrong, I never forget.”
The room fell silent for a moment, everyone lost in thought. Suddenly Aunt Sadie spoke. “What if Johnny
“Quiet, Jack,” I silently replied. “And my friends are not yahoos.”
“I think he’s guilty,” said Milner. “It doesn’t make sense, otherwise. If Johnny didn’t do the crimes, who did?”
Fiona slapped her book closed loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “I know I’m supposed to be the prosecutor here, but to be frank, I can finger a few other suspects just by perusing Angel Stark’s book.”
“I read that book, too,” said Brainert. “And despite what she claimed at her reading here, I thought Angel dropped the ball when it came to blame, wrapping it all up with the old ‘unanswered questions’ summation.”
