Page 20 of Evidence of a Folktale

“I’m not going to interrupt your meeting.”

“You better interrupt my meeting if you need something.” He glared at her. “Swear it. It’s the only way I’ll go home. Picturing you running down that mountain by yourself makes me physically ill.”

“Okay, I swear it.” She crossed her heart with her gloved hand.

“Thank you.” Eamon kissed her quickly since the crowd was no longer focused on the actors’ scene. “I love you, Isobel. Go get your coffee.” He shoved cash into her hands. “Order as much as you need.”

“I will.” She didn’t bother arguing and tucked the bills into her coat pocket. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Detective.” Eamon turned and slipped into the crowd, vanishing so effortlessly that Bel hadn’t even realized he’d stepped out of sight. The moment he moved out of earshot, she released the anxious breath she’d been fighting to hold inside. Turning on her heels, she power walked through the raw wind to The Espresso Shot and shoved her way through the crowded cafe.

“David, can I use the employee bathroom?” she asked the shop owner as she passed the register.

“Of course, Detective.” David tossed his head over his shoulder, barely looking at her as he served the horde of customers, and Bel fled for the back. The minute she locked herself inside, she tore off her gloves, turned on the hot water, and sobbed an ugly cry as her fingers shoved into the heat.

She’d held it together in front of Eamon. He was always so worried about her, and they’d been working through their trauma from her kidnapping. She didn’t want her meltdown to inspire him to mention leaving again. He promised he wouldn’t unless she demanded it, but she didn’t want to pile on the guilt. She didn’t want to remind him he hadn’t saved her or that the cold reminded her of those hours when she would’ve lost her fingers if not for gripping Blaubart’s wife the entire way down the mountain.

“Detective?” A knock at the door startled her, and she turned the water off, snatching paper towels from the dispenser to dry her puffy face.

“Is everything okay?” the voice came again. David Kaffe’s wife Emily had been one of Alcina’s victims in Bel’s first case in Bajka. He and his daughters had taken over running The Espresso Shot in honor of their beloved Emily, so if anyone would understand Bel’s struggle, it was David.

“I’m fine. Just freezing.” She opened the door, and he smiled at her, his fatherly intuition seeing through her lies.

“Come on. The kitchen feels like the thermostat is set to hell because everyone’s ordering food. I’ll get you a coffee and soup, and if you stand back there for a few minutes, you’ll boil. Do you want tomato or chicken noodle?”

“Tomato.”

“Perfect.” He patted her shoulder, and Bel wanted to cryall overagain at his kindness.

Five minutes later, she stood in the sweltering kitchen with David’s oldest daughter, a cup of steaming soup, and a slice of toasted bread. The staff liked her, so they had no problem letting her thaw out in their workspace, and when she finished the food, David handed her the largest coffee cup they had.

“What do I owe you?” she asked when she finally emerged from the kitchen, sweating as if she had indeed been boiled, and she felt fantastic.

“Nothing,” David said. “You always look out for my family. It’s our turn.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him. “I needed that.”

“I always have soup and coffee, so stop by any time.” He returned the embrace. “I don’t care that there are actors in our town. You’re our real MVP.”

“Because I spend a fortune here?”

“Exactly.” David laughed. “See you soon, Detective.”

“Bye.” Bel waved and shoved some of Eamon’s bills into the tip jar as she spotted her partner leaving with her lunch clutched in her hands. “Olivia!” She weaved through the crowded shop to catch her friend. They still weren’t talking, and she was ready to explode. “Olivia, wait up.”

“Oh, hi.” Gold paused with an awkward glance at the exit.

“It’s so cold,” Bel said, opting for a safe conversation topic. “Hopefully, there aren’t many outdoor shoots.”

“Yeah.” Olivia opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalkjustas a group of fans lunged through the entrance. A flash of fur surged into the women’s line of sight, and Olivia screamed, her alarm earning her a snicker from the masked fan.

“Olivia.” Bel reached for her as the werewolf-masked teens charged at the pastry display. It was clear by their outfits that they were cosplaying a character from Aesop’s Files, but by Olivia’s reaction, it seemed she’d assumed a real-life monster had come to rip her throat out.

“What?” Olivia cursed, the obscenities odd spoken in her southern accent as she fled The Espresso Shot.

“It’s just kids in a costume,” Bel said, chasing after her.

“Really?” Olivia pinned her with a glare. “Just an outfit? Just some kids? How do you know that? How can you ever know that?”

---