Page 20 of Peach Cobbler Confessions

Her mouth falls open with wonder. “Are you an attorney or a detective or something?”

“I’m a baker. But we can go with either of your versions.” I motion for her to continue.

Brandy leans in. “Peter was at the scene of the crime, that’s true. It was late Saturday night at the Chicken Hut out in Leeds. Peter was the only customer in there, or so he thought. He said he finished his sandwich and chili fries and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he saw the manager lying over the counter with a bullet in his chest. The police stormed in within five seconds and threw him to the ground, and his life was never the same.”

I glance to Noah and Everett. “What about the murder weapon?”

Noah sniffs. “They found it on the floor of the restaurant. They think Peter dropped it.”

Everett nods. “And the prosecutors built such a solid defense, the jury came back quickly with a guilty verdict.”

Brandy scoffs over at him. “You had the power to free him.”

“That’s not how it works,” Everett says the words slowly to her. “I took into account the circumstances and weighed it carefully. He was guilty and he deserved a harsh sentence.”

“No.” She moans as she closes her eyes. “Don’t you see you’re wrong?”

Her pain is palpable. Her frustration is very much on the surface. She doesn’t strike me as psychotic in the least, simply a woman desperate for someone to hear her out—and understand her side of the story—the one she firmly believes is the truth.

“I’m sorry.” Everett reaches over and gives her hand a quick pat. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“How about another trial?” I direct the question to her. “Or maybe his attorney can file an appeal?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve tried it all and bankrupted myself doing it. Peter Green looked me in the eye and said he didn’t do it. He didn’t have a gun. He wasn’t even hard up for money at the time it happened. None of it makes sense.”

“What about surveillance footage from the restaurant? Maybe outdoor cameras from the businesses across the street?”

She glances to the table. “The Chicken Hut had one. It showed Peter was the only person in the dining room. It shows him getting up and heading toward the bathroom.”

“The register,” Everett counters.

She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how they did it, but it’s not right. Something went very wrong that night—for both the manager and Peter.” She sniffs as she pulls her purse over her shoulder. “Thank you for your time, Judge Baxter. I guess I’ve played all my cards. I’m going to stop by and visit Peter now.”

She starts to leave, and I motion for her to wait while I pull out my phone.

“What’s your number?” I ask with a curt tone to my voice. I can’t help it. I’m the one who helped Everett wash that greasy lipstick of hers off his windshield.

“Why?”

“So I don’t have to track you down when I have questions.”

She quickly gives it to me before leaning in.

“Thank you so much.” Her voice trembles. “I don’t care if you bake cakes. As far as I’m concerned, you should be wearing a cape for caring. Thank you, Lottie.” She gives a tiny wave before speeding out of the coffee house.

“Lottie.” Noah doesn’t look too impressed with my newly minted superhero status.

“Lemon.” Everett is even less impressed than Noah.

Noah growls over at him, “What the hell were you thinking inviting that woman out for a kaffeeklatsch?”

“And as you witnessed, she’s harmless,” Everett shoots back. “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought she was a danger.”

Noah shakes his head as he pulls his coffee to his lips. “You’re not a goodjudgeof character.”

“I am a good judge of character. I knew not to trust you, didn’t I?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at that one.