The Diva Sweetens the Pie

by Krista Davis

  As though she could sense my reluctance, she pulled a photograph out of the stack of papers. “This is my mom, Nellie.”

  Nina leaned in for a better look.

  Nellie could easily have been one of our friends. She was laughing in the photograph and cuddling a much younger and smiling Aly at the beach. Nellie wore her sandy hair shoulder length, exactly like Aly. I had to think that was intentional. It was Aly’s way of clinging to her mom. In the photo they wore matching blue sundresses and Aly’s headband sported a blue bow. If I had to guess, I would have said Nellie streaked her hair to hide the gray. Her wrists were tiny, she was definitely petite, and there was something about the raw joy on her face that spoke to me. I liked Nellie immediately.

  What if Aly was right? What if Nellie was innocent?

  Could I leave this woman unjustly incarcerated for the rest of her life?

  Chapter 12

  Dear Natasha,

  My mother always makes pies in glass pie dishes and they just look awful on the table. I say she should use a pie dish that isn’t see-through if she’s going to bring the pie to the table. Can you back me up on this? She’ll listen to you.

  Disgusted in Lardintown, Pennsylvania

  Dear Disgusted,

  If your mother watches my show, she should know that one only brings a pie to the table in a beautiful ceramic or porcelain pie dish. If she bakes in a glass dish, she should plate the pie before it makes an appearance on the table.

  Natasha

  I looked up at Aly, who was watching me. I thought she might be holding her breath. I reached across the table for her small hand. “I can’t promise you anything, Aly. I can tell you’ve been through a lot. You seem very mature, so I’m going to be as honest as I can with you. This is a long shot. Do you know what that means?”

  Aly nodded, but I felt her fingers squeeze mine tighter.

  “Honey, it’s highly unlikely that we’ll be able to find out anything that would get your mom out of jail. Neither Nina nor I are lawyers. We’re not detectives or cops. We’re just a couple of nosy ladies.”

  Aly still didn’t smile, but she squeezed my hand. “I like nosy ladies.” She released my hand and looked down at the table. “Besides, you’re all I have.”

  “Can we walk you home?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure Daisy needs to go outside,” I lied.

  “Okay. Can I hold her leash?”

  “Sure!” I slid Daisy’s halter over her head and handed the leash to Aly. I locked the door, pocketed the key, and the four of us walked along the sidewalk in the quiet night.

  Aly lived a mere four blocks away. I knew which house was hers before we reached it because every light in the house was on.

  “I have a feeling your dad is looking for you,” I said.

  “I left a note.” She said it calmly as if that was surely sufficient.

  The kid amazed me. I grinned at Nina.

  When we walked up to the front door of a small Federal-style house, Aly turned the knob and stepped inside. Nina, Daisy, and I waited outside to make sure everything was okay.

  “Alyson Frederika Stokes! Where have you been? I was about to call the police.”

  “You know you can’t do that,” Aly said in a serene voice. “Besides, I left a note.”

  The man pulled a piece of notebook paper from his pocket and read aloud, “Have gone to get Mom out of the slammer is not adequate. Where were you?”

  She tugged him by the hand toward the door.

  Nina nudged me and whispered, “The dark shadow!”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered back. “At least I think so.”

  Her father came to the door. His pale face flushed plum red at the sight of us. “You’re Sophie Winston!” He gazed at his daughter. “Aly, what did you do?”

  “Sophie is going to fix everything.”

  I was horrified. “That’s not quite what I said.”

  “Please come in.” The dark shadow peered outside and hurried to close the door. He gestured toward the living room. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  Their living room had been painted a creamy peach color, which served as a nice background for a cushy dark green sofa and peach chairs with hunter green pillows.

  The dark shadow drew the curtains closed as fast as he could. He perched on the edge of the sofa. “I’m Dooley Stokes. Obviously, you have met my precocious daughter, Aly. I apologize if she troubled you.”

  “Not at all,” I assured him. “She’s a charming young lady.”

  Aly turned a smug, satisfied face to her father.

  “Aly, it’s time for bed.”

  “But, Dad . . . !”

  “Go ahead. I’d like to speak to these ladies.”

  There was no mistaking her annoyance with being sent out of the room, but she did as she was told, pausing for just a moment to look at Nina and me. “Thank you. Pleeeease help my mom.”

  She scampered up the stairs. We heard a door open and close. From my position in the living room, I suspected I was the only one who could see her sitting on the top stair to listen in. I tried not to grin. I had done the same thing as a kid.

  Dooley moved awkwardly, like a colt that hadn’t gotten its legs yet. Tall and slender, he eyed us nervously. “I’m a little ashamed that it took my daughter to reach out to you. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to speak with you.”

  “That’s why you’ve been stalking Sophie,” said Nina.

  “Oh no! That wasn’t my intention at all. I’m sorry. I don’t usually follow people. I had no idea I was scaring you. Please don’t think I’m a stalker. I just couldn’t get up my nerve to talk with you. I’m desperate and this is way out of my comfort zone. You’re a stranger, yet I’m coming to you for help.”

  Nina’s eyes brightened at the word desperate. I wasn’t so sure I shared her enthusiasm.

  “I guess Aly told you about my wife. Actually, my exwife. She’s in prison for murder.” Dooley looked away, his eyes brimming with tears. “They gave her life in prison without parole.”

  I had a vague recollection of reading about the murder, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stokes. I told Aly that we would do what we could, but you ought to hire a professional. People mistakenly think I solve murders, but I’m actually an event planner who got lucky a couple of times.”

  He gripped the arm of the sofa as though he hoped it would give him strength. His eyes were so sad that I wanted to look away but couldn’t.

  “Please call me Dooley. If you only knew Nellie, you would understand that she couldn’t have murdered Grainger. Bernie will back me up on that.”

  “Bernie Frei?”

  “He’s a friend of yours, right? He knows Nellie.”

  Nina and I exchanged a glance as it dawned on me that Roger had mentioned a Nellie Stokes.

  “She’s the kindest person I have ever known,” said Dooley. “There has been a terrible miscarriage of justice.”

  “Most people aren’t quite so fond of their ex-spouses,” Nina observed with a hint of sarcasm.

  I shot her a look. Mars and I were still friends.

  Nina flicked her hand at me. “You don’t count. You and Mars aren’t normal.”

  Mr. Stokes appeared hopeful. “You were married? And you still love each other?”

  I began to explain, “Well—”

  But Dooley assumed what he wanted and kept talking. “Then perhaps you can understand. Nellie was my first love. To be honest, she is my only love.” He heaved a shuddering sigh. “She left me for someone else. A grave error, as it turned out. And now, Aly and I are her only hope.”

  Dooley wiped away tears under his eyes with the backs of his hands. “No one else cares about Nellie locked away in a cold little cell while the real killer gets away with an atrocious murder. Except for Aly and me, the world has forgotten about Nellie. It’s as though everyone else on the entire planet was okay with her incarceration. They didn’t care who it was, as long as someone
went to jail.”

  I still wasn’t placing Nellie. It seemed like I would have heard more about the crime. Even though Old Town was next to Washington, DC, it was a small community and murder was big news.

  “I fear someone used her in a nefarious way.”

  Nina sat up, her mouth gaping. “You think she was framed?”

  I held out my hands, palms up. “Dooley, you and Aly have my deepest sympathy. But it sounds like you need a private detective. This is way out of my league.”

  He stared at the coffee table, his shoulders sagging. When he looked up, I swear his lower eyelids drooped like a sad bloodhound’s. He reached his hands toward me, almost like a person in the desert reaching for water. “Please? I already hired a private detective. He took my money and produced no results. Nothing. It was a total waste. I’m sorry to say that I can’t afford another one. Though in all honesty, even if I could, I don’t know that I would trust another private detective.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “I mortgaged this house to the hilt, sold my car, and spent every cent I had for Nellie’s legal defense. There’s nothing left. I . . . I was told you work for free?”

  His pale face flushed crimson and I could tell it pained him to have to ask for help.

  Nina looked at me, her eyes wide.

  While I had solved a few murders, I wasn’t a professional. I might even muck things up instead of making them better. Not to mention that it all happened so long ago. There certainly wouldn’t be any evidence lying around. All I could go by was what people told me. Memories weren’t always reliable and had probably warped a bit since the actual murder. But I had promised Aly I would try.

  I studied Dooley silently. He was definitely stressed. His breath came fast and in short bursts, like a panting dog. I wondered if he had blood pressure problems.

  What if Nellie were my sister? Or what if I landed behind bars for a murder I hadn’t committed? I hoped Mars might move heaven and earth for me if that happened. But in all honesty, I didn’t think I would be able to accomplish much in this instance.

  “What about Nellie’s lawyers?” I asked. “Aren’t they doing anything on her behalf?”

  “The standard appeal for ineffective counsel was filed, but that wasn’t successful. I have no one to turn to. I wouldn’t be begging you if I wasn’t at the end of the line. I just can’t bear the calendar days sweeping by while poor, sweet Nellie wastes away.”

  I had already promised Aly. I wasn’t about to let her go through more of her life without her mother. Not if I could help it.

  Maybe I wouldn’t be able to spring Nellie. Maybe Nellie had committed the crime. But I knew two things—I couldn’t let Aly down, and I couldn’t bear to live my life, having fun, even just waking up in the morning and seeing the sun shine, with the knowledge that Nellie might have been wrongly incarcerated and that I hadn’t bothered to try to help.

  “Dooley,” I said, “I don’t want you to have high hopes. It’s unlikely that we’ll discover anything helpful. A lot of time has passed and that will make it more difficult.”

  My words of caution clearly meant nothing to him. His face lit up. The hangdog look vanished. “Thank you! I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.”

  He rose and fetched a document from a desk. Handing it to me, he said, “The great news is that Nellie was temporarily transferred back to the Alexandria detention center. You won’t have to go far to meet her. Here is all my contact information. Do you think you’ll be able to see her tomorrow?”

  Nina nodded her head. I reached out my hand to stop her from making promises we couldn’t keep. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I don’t even know if the detention center is open on Sundays.”

  He froze as though I had tossed an icy drink on him. “But it is!”

  He was so anxious that I wondered if I was making a mistake. He wanted Nellie released and that was something I probably couldn’t accomplish. “I’ll do my best.”

  He loosened up. “If Nellie were here, she would have baked a pie to enter in the festival. Aly wanted to honor her mom by baking one.”

  “Nellie was a good baker?”

  He cocked his head as if surprised by my question. “Nellie is the best pastry and dessert chef in the United States.”

  His response took me aback. “Her name doesn’t ring any bells with me.”

  “Star-Spangled Pies took all the credit. Nellie worked very quietly in the back, preparing their wonderful desserts.”

  “Where do you work, Dooley?” asked Nina. “Are you a chef, too?”

  “Good heavens, no. I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve lost forty pounds since Nellie left me. I’m an entomologist at the Smithsonian museum.”

  Nina wrinkled her nose at him. “Bugs?”

  “The United States Insect Collection is the second largest in the world!” he declared proudly. Dooley’s eyes widened and he was suddenly animated. “Did you know that no matter how much you clean your house or where you live, whether in the jungle, the forest, or a city, you still have approximately the same number of insects in your home?” He sat back and lamented, “Of course, if we lived in a jungle, the insects would be far more interesting.”

  Noting Nina’s disgust, he turned to me. “Inmates are allowed only two visits a week, so Aly and I won’t go to see Nellie until after you do. It’s far more important that you have a chance to meet her and get the story from her.”

  I received his message loud and clear—Hurry up and visit her so Dooley and Aly could see their beloved Nellie.

  He got to his feet. “Nellie always called me her praying mantis because I have such long thin arms and legs.”

  “And what did you call her?” I asked.

  “My ladybug.”

  He stood up and opened the door for us.

  “One last question before we go,” I said. “You said Nellie left you for someone else. Who did Nellie leave you for?”

  Nina and I stepped outside and turned around to face him as he said, “Grainger Gibbard.”

  Chapter 13

  Dear Natasha,

  I baked a blackberry pie following your recipe precisely. It was awful! Shudder! It was so sour that we could hardly stand it.

  Still Puckering in Blackberry City, West Virginia

  Dear Still Puckering,

  The first rule of baking any fruit pie is to taste your fruit. Berries are notorious for being surprisingly sour, but even apricots and peaches vary in sweetness. Always adjust the sugar to the sweetness (or lack thereof) of your fruit.

  Natasha

  To say I was stunned would have been an understatement. Nellie left Dooley for Grainger, who was her boss, and then murdered him? I couldn’t help thinking it might have been Dooley who murdered Grainger and couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing that Nellie was paying the price for his crime.

  Nina and I strolled along the sidewalk, with Daisy leading the way.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said we would look into it.”

  Nina cleared her throat. “Funny how neither one of them mentioned that little detail. Makes a person wonder what else they omitted. On the other hand, if you were accused of murdering Alex, I bet Mars would do everything in his power to help you.”

  “Fortunately, I’m not inclined to kill anyone. Do you think Dooley killed Grainger and that’s why he feels so miserable about Nellie landing in prison?”

  Nina winced. “It hadn’t occurred to me until Dooley mentioned her victim. But that would explain his panic about Nellie spending the rest of her life in prison. I thought he was too crazy about her for someone who got dumped!”

  “But if that were the case, and I were in his shoes, I don’t know if I would ask anyone to look into it. If Dooley murdered Grainger, then he knows that the trail will lead back to him. It would be easier to just confess.”

  Nina held out her hand for the paper Dooley had handed me. “He’s meticulous.” Nina paused under a streetlight to read it. “It’s the visiting schedule. Prisoners have to make ar
rangements in advance for a visit. But”—she grinned at me and then paraphrased—“an exception can be made by the watch commander. Think Wolf could pull some strings?”

  “Maybe. I’ll give him a call in the morning.”

  We said good night and went to our respective homes. I had been exhausted, but now I was too agitated to sleep. I heated some milk and poured in a splash of coffee liqueur to flavor it. Daisy and Mochie followed me into the sunroom. Daisy curled up on the loveseat next to me and paced her head in my lap, which didn’t leave any room for Mochie. He didn’t seem miffed, though. He promptly jumped onto the back of the loveseat. I could hear him purring behind me. I didn’t turn on any lights while I thought about Aly.

  Nellie should have been my primary concern, but it was Aly who broke my heart. At this point she had lived almost half of her life without her mother. Dooley was clearly doing a great job of raising her. She was bright and appeared to be well adjusted, even if she never smiled.

  * * *

  In the morning I phoned Wolf Fleishman on the outside chance he could get us in. I didn’t expect him to take my call, since he was probably busy with Patsy Lee’s death, but he answered right away.

  “Hi, Sophie. Thanks for that address.”

  When I explained what I wanted, Wolf was silent for a long moment. “Nellie Stokes? Sophie, that’s a closed case.”

  “Do you know anything about Grainger’s murder?”

  “A little. It wasn’t my case. Kenner handled it.”

  Chill bumps raised on my arms. I hadn’t heard Kenner’s name in a long time. He’d been awful to me. I knew exactly how he must have treated Nellie. As far as I was concerned, it was all the more reason to look into her case. “Any chance you can get me in to see her?”

  He was silent again. I knew better than to keep chattering or pleading my case. Wolf was thinking. “Okay. I’ll call you back.”