Chapter 6
Cookies With A Murderess
Maria's white cottage nestled into her garden like a kitten ready to pounce. Orange and burgundy flowers brushed the low wooden fence, and fallen leaves rustled when Shane pushed the gate open. A low slung roof crouched over the front porch, and a knit blanket lay discarded over the wide swing at its furthest edge. Maria chatted with the girls as she unlocked her front door, and Shane noticed an open book next to a teal mug on the side table by the swing. He took a moment to read the spine when Maria was turned. You are Only Just Beginning .
Do murderesses get self help books? Shane shuffled his shoes on the pumpkin-shaped welcome mat before joining the others. The inside was like stepping into well-loved slippers. The cozy heat of the tiny fireplace embraced them, and the walls felt snug rather than small. A spice Shane couldn't name wafted from the kitchen a few feet away, and an older woman in sky-high heels craned her neck out from the doorway, eyes wide at Shane. He gave an awkward wave. Too much elbow and no wrist, Emily once pointed out in all her helpful preteen horror.
Maria and the woman whispered in Spanish together, too faint and too fast to even try to understand. Isa smiled apologetically at the Bolles and said a touch too loud, "Anyone want something to drink?"
The whispering ceased, and the older woman shooed Maria out ahead of her. "My name is Rosa Cruz, I'm Maria's mama." She gripped the sides of Shane's head and yanked him down towards her so she could peck either side of his face. "Now I understand you are the famous TV detective we've heard so much about, si?"
"Mama, enough." Maria gestured to Emily who was scanning every inch of the house without even trying to be discreet. "This is Emily Bolles, Isa's new friend, and her father, Shane Bolles. Isa wanted to bake cookies and Emily is kind enough to help. Isn't that nice?"
Rosa made a sound somewhere between a snort and a harrumph before crossing her arms. Emily will have her hands full if she thinks I can just slip out. Shane gave his best smile. "It's wonderful to meet you. Do you live here as well?"
Maria answered a quick ‘no,’ as her mother nodded an emphatic, ‘yes,’. The older woman stepped ahead of Maria, taking Shane's arm and steering him further into the kitchen and away from Maria. "I do. Someone had to come take care of my poor daughter. She's been so distraught, barely eating in all her grief."
Shane watched Maria shove a fist-sized muffin into her mouth behind Rosa, as her mother continued. "We are so eternally grateful that you would come here and help us resolve Dave's case. The back and forth has been terrible for all of us, especially poor, poor Isa."
"Mama, please—" Maria interrupted as the girls weaved around them to pull out sugar and flour. The kitchen was not built to encourage a large gathering, and Shane's 6ft 4 frame came dangerously close to scraping the small white chandelier above them. Maria continued, "Why don't you help the girls with the cookies while Mr. Bolles and I have coffee outside?"
She grabbed the pot off the burner and two mugs before her mother could object. Shane silently groaned when he overheard Emily ask where the bathroom was, knowing every ounce of her time would be spent snooping.
Maria led them to two wicker chairs nestled into an overzealous garden. The coffee pot gave a hiss when it touched the stone table, but she didn't seem to notice as she handed him a cup of black coffee. "I'm sorry about my mom. She's a lot."
Shane waved her off. "No need to apologize, she's great. Reminds me of my mom."
"How so?" Maria asked, taking a sip from her own Coffee or Death mug.
Shane blew out a puff of air, wondering why he even brought his mother up. "My mom was a spitfire. She came up to maybe my chest but could make you feel about an inch tall if you ever talked back. But she was fiercely loyal. And she hugged hard."
"When did she pass?" At Shane's questioning look, Maria continued, "You talk about her in past tense, I just assumed—"
"Right. No, sorry. You're right. She died several years back. This is actually my first trip home without her here." The mug in his hands was warm, and he felt a sense of deja vu from another garden a lifetime ago.
His mother ignored most flowers, but tended to her herb garden whenever the sun shined. She handed Shane an uprooted basil plant, the dirt warm from the summer sun. "Deja vu, my boy, is someone on the other side nudging you to pay attention."
He was distracted from the memory as Maria's warm hand closed over his own. "I'm sorry. That must be hard."
He blew out a breath. OK, Mom. I'm looking. He smiled, and despite the fact he had two murders to deal with, this moment felt right.
Maria's honey brown eyes were earnest as she said, "I love my mom. But, she's panicked about me and Isa. She always said we need a man." Maria pushed one shoulder back and let a Spanish accent thicken in an uncanny imitation of her mother. "A man will provide for you, and protect you, even from yourself."
Shane laughed. "That's a bit antiquated. Is your dad here as well then?"
Maria barked out her one syllable laugh, shaking her head. "Hell no. Mama has lots of advice for anyone within earshot, but it rarely applies to herself. After the divorce, she insisted no man would ever stay in her house for more than a night."
Shane asked, "So was she happy when you met Dave?" She paused long enough looking down at her mug that he tried to take the question back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
She waved him off. "It's fine. I just don't really know how much I can say without it going on your show or showing up all over the internet."
Shane blushed, chastened by her frank answer. He felt like a fluke sometimes, but never sleazy, and yet her answer made him realize what his show must look like to someone on the other side of his cases. He took a bracing sip of the black brew and said, "I understand." He looked around at the well-loved flowers spilling over pots surrounding them and the dead leaves beginning to pile up. The air smelled like brown butter and cinnamon thanks to the girls, and a neighbor burned firewood somewhere nearby. He scooted his wicker chair to be directly across from Maria and offered his mug up in toast. "As long as we are within your garden, anything you say will never leave this sacred space."
She laughed, clinking her mug to his. "Fair. OK. But if this is sacred space, then I need your assurance that if I spill my secrets, so will you."
"Deal."
***
Maria felt oddly relaxed given the fact that she was about to spill what could be damning evidence against her to a detective. But there was something earnest in Shane's face, and the way he talked about his own mother made her feel a little safer.
This will probably land me in jail.
She breathed out a cleansing sigh, ignoring that last thought. "OK. When I met Dave, I was lost. Like literally and figuratively. I had just driven all the way from LA, stopping only to sleep for an hour at a time with Isa in the backseat. It was pouring down rain and I got turned around, but all I cared about was getting as far away from all the dead ends I’d found in LA I as fast as possible. I was out of money and looking for work when I pulled into the little garden center at the edge of town. And don't laugh," Maria pointed at Shane who innocently held up both hands for her to continue. "I swear, the rain stopped, the clouds parted, and the first person I saw was Dave."
Maria took another sip of the Columbian brew her mother liked best, picturing Dave and remembering the loamy smell of mulch. "He helped me. I told him I was looking for work, and he said that the garden shop wasn't hiring but he knew Mama Cate's was. And it felt like fate. I stumbled into this ridiculously adorable town like a wet, sleep deprived sea hag, and this stranger escorts me and Isa into a cozy bookstore-turned coffee shop—"
"—-turned wine bar and post office," Shane interjected, prompting her to laugh.
"Of course. Can't forget that." Maria continued, "And I got a job. Cate was there, gave me the keys to a vacant apartment she rented out, and told me I could start the following day. It was like a Hallmark movie."
Maria's heart still constricted when she thought about that moment. Even now it brought tears to her eyes that she willed back into her skull. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Anyway. It's a small town, you know? I kept running into Dave everywhere. And despite some serious, flaming red flags, I felt like he was the reason Isa and I came here."
She scanned Shane’s earnest face, lingering on his chiseled jawline a moment too long before she caught herself. She blew her not-bangs back again off her face, forcing herself to look somewhere other than his lips and pushed on. "So I caved to a date, even though I'd sworn off dating anyone else after the winners I'd left back in California. And then I said yes to another date, and ignored that warning bell in my head when Dave drank too much at dinner. And the next one when he kept cutting me off mid-sentence, or the fact that he kept a bottle of pills in his Carhartt that he never explained. And the dates somehow just snowballed. One day I was about to call things off and he surprised me by bringing me here, to this house." She gestured with her mug at the snug yard and flowerbeds surrounding them as if that was ever a good enough reason to stay. She grit her teeth, chiding herself for the thousandth time for not getting away from Dave sooner.
Shane didn't push her, didn't try to fill the gap that Maria left as she debated if she should continue. He just watched her with this intensity and, for the first time in years, Maria felt heard. She leaned back in her chair and he subconsciously mimicked her, his golden tan skin peeking out from his partially unbuttoned shirt. Maria pushed on, decided. "Every time I had one foot out the door, he had this big apology or a huge gesture that he'd change. He offered to see a therapist after the first time he hit me. That was two weeks after our wedding. And what do I do?"
Shane answered, without judgment or pity, "You believed him."
"Exactly. I believed his crocodile tears. And I made excuses when it happened again, or when he disappeared up to his brother's trailer for days on end. And somehow, the days sped into two years, and I—" staged his overdose and poisoned his pills in the shed behind you. Maria snorted, Jesus, I am losing it.
" —I, uh, was checked out. Mama wanted me to leave, to come to her in New York. She knew I was unhappy but didn't know the full extent of it. She just always said Dave felt wrong from the first moment she met him. But Isa was so happy, despite everything at home that I tried to hide. And I'll be honest, I love this town. I realize now that it was never Dave that brought me here. It was this place."
She leaned forward, the mug warm in her hands. "And because we're in this safe space, I'll tell you what's been weighing on me the most. I am not sad that he's dead. Dave was only getting worse with each day. And I don't know if I was going to be strong enough to leave him and this town, and this town felt like mine."
For a few moments the only sounds around them were of the girls chatting and shifting dishes or a car driving by in the distance. Despite the fact that she should have lied to him, Maria felt relieved. She hadn't been able to tell another soul what she just told this stranger. And that should freak her out, but for some reason, it didn't.
Shane leaned forward, putting his mug and then hers on the table before wrapping his large hands around hers. Every cell in Maria’s body zeroed in on the electricity of his touch, and her pulse stuttered at the intensity of such a PG gesture. Dios, what would it be like if he ran his hands elsewhere? She couldn’t pull her gaze away from him if she wanted to, and she would rather eat her right arm than look anywhere else. He appeared every bit the Hollywood Heartthrob, and Maria clamped her teeth shut so she wouldn’t spew out the rest of her secrets.
"He sounds like a complete piece of shit."
Maria laughed, and tried to shift back to break the intensity but Shane gently pulled her towards him so the pair of them leaned closer, elbows on knees, hands in each others’. "I'm serious. He sounds like a complete jerk. And because we're in this safe space where anything you say will stay here, I'm going to tell you something. Self defense is not murder. And some people have a gray area of what is considered self defense."
The effect chilled all of the not-PG thoughts she had about this man, her muscles locking up in flight or fight mode as she dropped his hands. She leaned back, but he held his hand up before she could say anything further. "No, let me finish, love. If a man ever laid a hand on Emily, or tried to keep her down, I would help her bury the bones."
"I did not kill my husband," Maria lied, trying and failing to ignore the affectionate pet name. Love. He’s an actor, forget it.
"I'm not saying you did. All I'm saying is that I don't care who killed Dave Fever. I'm just glad they did."
The screen door slammed, shocking Maria out of the safe bubble they'd formed around them in the mid-morning sun. Isa waved at them to come in, "Cookies!"
Maria's heart pounded, and Shane nodded to her as they both stood. But when he squeezed her hand once as they walked to the house, she knew one sickening thought: I want to tell Shane Bolles I killed Dave.