Page 44 of Sinful Reality

“Similar spots. It, uh…” She nervously clears her throat and coughs out a tense giggle. “Well, city rules stated we had to pay fees to operate, right? And fees, of course, cut into our already minuscule profit. So we moved it, and if officials asked questions, the locals would vouch that we were never in the same place twice.”

If we were face-to-face inside an interview room, I know her cheeks would warm, and her eyes would cut to mine—the cop.

“We served good coffee, and it wasn’t nearly as expensive as the boutique stuff. Plus, we were one of them, and back then, everyone had each other’s backs.”

“I understand,” Aubree murmurs sweetly. “And don’t worry, our resident cop has no interest in raising trouble about the fee thing.”

“Oh, good.” She bursts out nervously. “I worried.”

“Which businesses were you near two days before Alana went missing?”

“Two days? Um… geez.” She closes the fridge again and turns, the snick of a kitchen cabinet echoing through our autopsy suite. “Well, theday of, we were out front of Ned’s. His was a cute family-owned diner. They, too, served coffee, but didn’t mind we were there since anyone who wanted to sit and relax went to them, and anyone in a rush felt like Ned served a little slow. Different customer base, really. The day before that, we were across the other side of the park, right next to the markets.”

“The fruit market?” Minka questions seriously. “Was the owner there?”

I meet her eyes and purse my lips.Barking up the wrong tree, Mayet.

“Andy? Yeah, he was there. He mostly focused on the loading and unloading and helping everyone else out. He was a guy, and the vast majority of us working in the area were women. So he flittered about, assisting anyone who needed it. He was always friendly and willing to lend a hand. His stall was often buzzing with business—I’m not sure he ever packed fruit away at the end of a day since most of the time, he sold it all. And on the odd occasion he didn’t, he put the leftovers out for anyone to take.”

“Are you aware of his criminal past?” Minka’s jaw hardens as she pushes on the one point she’ll never be able to present to a judge.The dude is dead. “He’d done time before setting up shop in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah. I knew. Pretty sure everyone did.”

“And you were okay with someone with a history of domestic violence being in your community?”

“I mean… at first? Of course, we were curious. Some were less forgiving, others were more. You should understandmostof our community had some kind of past they regretted. That’s typically how things go. But he was nice, ya know? And he wasn’t afly by nightkinda guy. He didn’t slide in from nowhere and expect a welcoming party. He worked hard for years, and he never stepped out of line. And I know why you’re asking these questions,” she adds quickly, predicting Minka’s next words. “It makes sense you’re interested in a man who lost his kid. That same man with a history of treating women poorly. Of course, objectively, he seems the perfect person to target little girls and seek retribution for what, in his mind, was taken from him.”

“But in reality?” Aubree asks gently.

“He was one of the nicest, most generous, most humble men I’d ever met. He never pretended his past didn’t exist. Rather, he learned from it and spent his years making amends. He hired single mothers, gave half his produce away for free, helped his neighbors, and when someone needed it—men, especially—he provided a listening ear and advice if they asked for it. He could have been the worst thing that happened to our community. But he wasn’t. He turned his life around and became a beacon for men who needed direction and a refuge for women whocould do with a helping hand. I certainly shed a tear when he passed a few years back.”

“What happened to his stall when he passed?” I question. “Did it just go away?”

“Essentially.” She draws a deep breath and exhales again, so the sound ricochets through the line. “He’d had this one lady working for him over the years. Gloria. There were others, too, when it was busier. But Gloria was his bread and butter, if that makes sense. She could run the place without him if needed, and did, in the end, while he was in the hospital. She never gave him a reason to worry. Never skimmed the till or caused any issues. She kept the stall clean as a whistle and, if I remember correctly, was the reason he started the free juice thing. There was no point tossing overripe fruit in the trash when it could be used to help the community instead. She kept the stall going while he was sick, but once he passed, and soon after that, another little girl went missing, a lot of our community broke away. Too many hits, too little time. I believe Andy left the place to Gloria in his will. But she got sick, too, and the neighborhood got quieter, anyway. It was stress, if you ask me.”

“What was stress?”

“Her sickness. And his.” She shrugs. “His was cancer, and hers is kidney. Not the same, obviously. But each of them carried a heavy load throughout the years, and in the end, it became their undoing.”

“What kinds of stress did Gloria Donohue carry?” Aubree asks. “She was a single mom, right? You said that.”

“Yeah. The father took off, I think. A long while ago. They were a quiet family, didn’t get out a lot except to work. She homeschooled her kids, and her son was…” She clears her throat. “Well, he was a bit of a handful. Very sweet boy,” she explains. “One of the purest souls I’ve ever met. But it’s like his body was growing, but his brain was not. He became a target for the other, harder street kids and got his butt beat a few times if he went out alone. Stress,” she adds with a sigh. “This kind of lifeisstress. Gloria’s daughter was a sweetie, but she was quiet, too. Kinda small and softly spoken. I think by the time Andy died and everything had changed, Gloria decided it was all too much, so like a lot of the other places nearby, she closed the stall and moved on in silence.”

“I have one more question for you, Beatrice.” Carefully, Aubree straightens and releases the cuff of her coat. “I want you to say the first thing that comes to your mind, though, okay? Don’t overthink it. Don’t justify or backtrack on your answer. Go with your gut, because it might be the key this investigation has been missing.”

“O-okay,” she stammers, swallowing. “I’m ready.”

“Can you close your eyes and think back to the day Diane went missing? You said your stall was in front of Ned’s that day. There had been a dance troupe parade in the street, and a couple of days before, a massive dump of snow. The roads are still messy, and the sidewalks are probably useless. The fruit shop is serving juice to customers, and Ned’s has got the slower, more relaxed crowd dining in. Christmas has been, and honestly, people are probably pretty broke by this point of the season. School is in, right? So kids have been to school and now the day is done. The park is right there, but it’s freezing out, so it’s probably mostly empty. Can you see all that in your mind?”

“Yes.” Her breathing comes a little faster. Just a little heavier. “Yes, I see all that.”

“It’s nineteen-ninety-eight: do you see Diane on the swings? Do you hear thesqueak-squeak-squeakof the rusty chain on the old frame?”

Again, she exhales a soft, “yes.”

“Alright. Here comes the crucial question. Open your visionwider. Look past Diane. Look past her mom. Past the fluffy jacket that makes the little girl look twice as big as she actually is. There’s a man standing on the fringes of this scene. He’s probably wearing a black jacket. Zipped up high, his hands dug into his pockets. It’s freezing out, and chances are, there’s more snow coming. What does that man look like, Beatrice? Where is he?”

“I don’t… No.” It’s like Aubree’s spell breaks or something, because Beatrice’s breathing changes, and the soft monotone of her answers dissipates. “There’s no man. There’s just a bunch of kids on the far side of the park. They were shoving that other boy around because he wanted to sit against the brick wall and read. His desire for solitude made him the perfect target for the bullies, and Gloria being busy in the stall meant he ended up with a bloody nose more often than she could keep up. Then Diane went missing, and everything just…” She sighs. “Everything stopped. I don’t see a man in my memories, Doctor. I’m sorry.”

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