Chapter 17

Sylvie had gotten ahold of Royce’s shirt, and was thrusting her finger into his face as she screamed about her earrings. Alene was surprised to see Toula break down in tears as soon as she crumbled onto the couch in Alene’s office. How many more people were going to cry today? Alene offered Toula the tissue box and said, “I’m really sorry about all that. Sylvie is seriously not well. You should take everything she says with a grain of salt, and I should have stopped her. This is my fault.”

“No, none of this is your fault,” said Toula, dismal, but a little calmer. “It’s all just been so impossible.” Alene held her hands in a time-out sign and ran to pour water for the two of them.

Handing one glass to Toula, Alene asked, “What’s been impossible?”

“Everything,” Toula said, her breathing calmed for a bit. “My husband, for example.”

“I got divorced about eight years ago,” Alene said, “so I’m pretty familiar with going through rough patches in a marriage. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Our marriage is a mess,” said Toula, blowing her nose and taking another tissue. “I’m surprised I lasted this long.”

Alene said, “You can’t blame yourself if you tried and failed, believe me.”

“I did try,” Toula said in a small voice, “but some things can’t be repaired.” Alene knew exactly what she meant.

“He wanted to eat here,” Toula gave her a look. “All those times? He wanted to hear what people were saying.”

“What do you mean? Saying about what?”

“About Stanley,” said Toula.

“Why did he care about Stanley?” Alene asked, although she expected Toula to answer that Royce had done it. Smothered Stanley and caused the heart attack. Frank was going to be amazed that she’d figured it out. She texted him, “Come now. 911.”

“Stanley was my trainer,” said Toula as she sank lower on the couch, nodding slightly, her eyes closed. “And we.” She stopped.

Alene knew. “You had an affair?” Toula nodded. She was curvy and beautiful, and her husband wasn’t kind to her. It wasn’t such a surprise. “How can I help you, Toula? I just contacted the detective and he’s probably on his way.”

“You don’t understand,” Toula started crying again. “It was all my fault.”

Alene asked, “It wasn’t your fault, Toula. Even if you and Stanley had an affair, Stanley’s death was not your fault.”

Royce had started pounding on Alene’s locked office door, yelling at Alene to open it, and yelling at Toula to shut up. Alene recalled her conversations with Frank about abusive husbands. She thought about watching Royce and Toula sitting at their table with nothing to say, remembered how he snapped at her, grabbing her arm to push her out the door. Maybe Royce caught Toula and Stanley together, and got enraged. Frank was not a hammer seeing everything as a nail.

Toula stood. “He’s going to testify against me if I say anything,” she said, opening the door before Alene could stop her. Royce roughly shoved her back toward the café. He didn’t see Jack Stone coming from around the pastry table until Jack’s foot tripped the man. Reaching out for support, Royce knocked over bowls of dough and batter as the bakers scurried to the other side of the counter. Toula got out of his way as he fell, but he managed to push Alene against one of the ovens. It was painfully hot and it took the wind out of her.

“Thanks for slowing him down,” Alene said, breathing heavily and wincing as Jack helped her to her feet. She’d never appreciated him as much as she did now.

Jack said, “But now he’s dragging Toula through the kitchen door and back into the café.”

Alene limped out and immediately toppled against Phyllie, who knocked into Toula as Julian swooped the older boy up in his arms. Toula sat down hard on the floor, and stayed there, quietly hugging herself. In that fifteen second interlude, Jocelyn tackled Royce and Olly helped her immobilize him with his arms behind him. Alene worried that they were going to hurt him. Olly looked at Alene and said, “And that in a nutshell is why I love jiujitsu.”

Jocelyn gave a snort of laughter and said, “All you did was help me while I tackled this guy like he was carrying the ball.” Alene shook her head and glanced over to make sure that her father and Blanca were still sitting safely at their table. Some customers left, disturbed by the altercation, but Alene noticed some still taping with their cameras. She shuddered to think about the whole episode going viral.

Royce had threatened to testify against Toula? Had she told him that she’d murdered Stanley, or had he witnessed it himself? Now he was struggling against Jocelyn and Olly, so Kofi jumped up to help, and in a few swift moves had Royce stilled. Kofi said, “And

Everyone in the café froze, except for Julian and Phyllie’s little boys, who bounced up and down in the stroller. The little one thrust out a fist and said, “Again.”

The kitchen staff had stumbled into the café to watch. Now Ruthie strode forward to put a gentle hand on Toula’s shoulder and asked, “Are you all right?” Alene’s thigh already ached where she’d slammed it into the oven.

Toula was bent over and sobbing. “I just needed someone,” she said. “Someone who cared about me.”

Royce, thrashing but immobilized, growled at her to shut up. His tomato face was tight with rage and the veins in his neck throbbed. His eyes were angry slits. Alene wondered if he’d unleashed this part of himself on Toula regularly. Toula closed her eyes as if to build up courage and said, “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I told you to shut up,” Royce repeated.

Frank and his partner walked in then, and Alene finally exhaled. Frank must have understood the situation right away because he signaled to Lee, who pulled out his handcuffs and approached Royce. Frank helped Toula to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

Toula nodded, weeping. “She murdered her boyfriend,” Royce barked. “Cuff her if you’re going to cuff me.”

Everyone slowly turned to stare at Toula, whose sobs had turned into gasps. “He wouldn’t let me get up. Until Stanley. Stopped moving. I didn’t want him to die.”

Alene couldn’t help butting in to ask, “What do you mean?”

“It was my fault,” Toula said. “He died because of me.”

Frank said, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Toula, expressionless. “I can’t live like this.”

Royce said, “You’re digging your own grave now.” He’d stopped fighting and his face had started to drain of all that color. Now he just wore a hard, bitter expression.

“You wanted me to die too,” Toula said, the color coming back to her face and as calm as if she were reading a grocery list. “You laid on top of me until he stopped moving. You wanted me to die too, but all you managed to do was to break my heart.”

Alene felt tears running erupting. People were murmuring and more cameras came out. Her staff seemed petrified in stone, but what could she do? It didn’t seem like the right time to issue directions. Toula added, “You’re never going to touch me again.”

Royce sneered. “I wouldn’t be so sure, sweetheart. I’m still your husband.”

“I’d rather rot in prison,” Toula said miserably. Alene tried to put an arm around her, but she shook her head and moved closer to Frank. “You said I have the right to an attorney. I’ll need one. He said he’d make sure I’d get the death penalty.”

“It’s not true, Honey,” Cal said from the other side of the quiet room. He and Blanca were sitting far enough from the action to still be holding their cups. He looked positively energetic. Nothing like a good fight to make him feel alive. “There’s no death penalty in the state of Illinois.”

Olly, now smoothing his mussed-up shirt, helpfully added, “It was repealed in 2011.”

As Lee got Royce out the door, Frank helped Toula to a chair and called in the arrests. He told everyone to stay in the restaurant until they gave him their name and contact information. Everyone followed his directive – probably very few of them had ever witnessed the arrest of a murderer. Alene wanted to yell at her customers to stop gawking and get back to their laptops and coffees. Some were still holding up their cameras, and some outside the café were staring through the window. She gestured to her staff to get moving. What a devious thing, to hold Toula down until Stanley stopped breathing and then convince her that she was the one who’d smothered him. She was lucky Royce hadn’t killed her too.

Frank pulled Alene close and whispered that she’d handled it well. Toula removed her earrings and reached over to give them to Sylvie. Sylvie held them up with a triumphant gesture and announced, “She obviously doesn’t know how to take care of good jewelry.”

Cal said loudly, “As Mark Twain wrote, ‘Never argue with stupid people.’”

You’re right, Cal,” said Blanca. “So many stupid people in the world.”

After Frank got everyone’s information, he left with Toula. Other customers gathered their belongings and left, and things started to calm down. Jack Stone cleaned up the tables, everyone went back to eating and drinking, and after a while, it looked almost like nothing had happened.

Alene followed Ruthie back to the kitchen and told her she felt like she’d failed an important test, not figuring out about Toula and Stanley. Ruthie was more concerned about having missed the signs that Toula was being abused and suggested asking someone from the nearby women’s shelter to do awareness training with the whole staff.

The baking staff took turns speculating about why Toula and Royce had been coming to the café so often. Olly suggested that Royce had wanted to humiliate Toula. Ruthie said, “Everyone in the neighborhood remembers that you helped solve a murder, Six. Maybe Toula hoped you’d figure out what was going on.”

Jocelyn sidled closer to Alene and whispered, “Do you remember those initials in my father’s appointment book?”

Alene nodded. “RGS,” she said, quietly.

“Do you also remember how I told you that my father used to say, “Time for my RBH, JH?” R.B.H. was a really big hug. Harrison just reminded me that R.G.S. was what he wanted from our mom.” Alene had forgotten to keep an eye on Jocelyn’s conversation with her brother. Nice that they’d spent the time reminiscing. “I think Royce scared Toula so much that she couldn’t even give us a clue.”

Ruthie said, “That’s what abusers do.”

“They shouldn’t be allowed to behave like that,” said Edith, who’d come into the kitchen.

Alene was glad to have the opportunity to say, “Wise words, Edith. I couldn’t agree more.”