Pecan Pies & Alibis

by Ruby Blaylock

  She reached for her pie reflexively, wondering what she’d do with it until she got home. Frank reached out a pale hand to stop her. Oh, no, Mrs. Purdy. That’s for charity now, remember? He smiled, but it wasn’t a genuine one, she could tell.

  Didn’t you enjoy the pie? The question snuck out of Bessie’s mouth before she could stop it. Maybe her feelings were hurt, or maybe it was her pride, but she wanted to know why the bank’s employees had all preferred Dianne’s dry, gooey mess over her perfect piece of pecan paradise.

  It was just fine, Miss Purdy. I’m sure that it will go like hotcakes at the charity sale in a few minutes. He pulled the pie away from her and held it protectively. Now, you run along and enjoy the fair. It only happens once a year, you know.

  Bessie watched as he put his free arm around Dianne’s shoulders and led her--and the pie--out the rear entrance of the tent.

  Well, I hope you choke on that darned pie, Frank Reed, she said aloud. Actually, she said it louder than she’d intended. Several people gave her strange looks. Some stepped back from her. She realized that she’d let her mouth get away from her again, but at seventy years old, she saw no point in not speaking her mind.

  Feeling angry and dejected, she turned and made her way to where Karma and Devon were waiting for her. She managed a lopsided smile as Devon put a gangly arm around her shoulders.

  We both know you were robbed, he commiserated. How about we go eat ice cream until our brains hurt to drown our sorrows?

  You are definitely my grandson, Bessie sighed, and the pair of them headed to the soft serve stand to indulge in a sweet, icy consolation before the dog show began.

  3

  At one time, Bessie had thought that romance was only for the young and frisky. After her husband died, she certainly never imagined herself becoming romantically attached to anyone else, at least until Emmett Barnes came into her life.

  Emmett was the type of man who just knew what to say to make her heart skip a beat. He was a good man, a solid type, who could have retired from his job as the Chief of Police many years ago, but he didn’t. He loved his job, loved to be active, and had drawn Bessie out of an aging slump that she hadn’t known she’d been in.

  Before Emmett, Bessie used to sit at home and watch murder mystery shows. She read book after book, took extra long at the grocery store just because it was an excuse to be out of her house, and she never dreamed of doing anything fun or exciting. That, she had reckoned, was for younger people. Oh, how that changed after Emmett.

  In the past year and a half, Bessie found herself evolving, shedding her cocoon of matronly boredom and embracing the role of a mature butterfly. She wore makeup again--just a little--and she’d even allowed Annie to take her for one of those mani-pedis, which had been fine, except that they tickled a little too much for her liking.

  She’d even started dressing younger, tossing out the boring housedresses and sweats that she’d lived in since Robert’s death and replacing them with things like capris and leggings with long, flowing tops. She’d even bought a pair of real denim jeans, without the elastic waist, and something called jeggings, which were the strangest things she’d ever seen, but which she adored for lounging around the inn.

  Her appearance wasn’t the only thing that she’d changed about herself since getting involved with Emmett. She had taken up salsa dancing on Sunday evenings at the local community center and she’d found that she really liked it. Sometimes Emmett would pick her up in his pickup truck and they’d head downtown for dinner at one of the local places. Sometimes they would drive further out and find a place with live music and dancing.

  She still used a walking stick every now and then--her old friend Arthur Itis still reared his ugly head now and again--but she felt better and seemed to be in better shape than she had been in years, maybe even in decades. And the way that she felt about Emmett, well, she certainly never thought that she’d adore him as much as she did.

  She’d recently confided to her daughter that, at one time, romance seemed like something only young people should bother with, but after getting to know Emmett, something had changed. Oh, Annie, I used to think that romance was best left to the younger generation, at least after your father passed away. But here lately, well, I’ve begun to feel differently. Since I’ve been seeing Emmett, I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach every time I see him. There’s still a fire in the furnace, if you know what I mean. Annie had laughed, but nodded knowingly, and Bessie knew that her daughter was happy for her.

  As Bessie wiped the last traces of sticky ice cream from her hands with a wet wipe (she always kept a small pack in her oversized purse because you always needed them for something), a familiar face appeared in the crowd. For a moment, her disappointment over losing the pie contest was ancient history, and the present was only a pleasant summer day and the man who gave her butterflies making his way over to her.

  Emmett!

  Bessie, he replied as he sidled up to her. Devon, how’s things?

  Devon shrugged. They’re good, I guess. Just killing time before the dog show later. He patted Karma on the head. Karma here’s going to show those other dogs how it’s done, he assured him.

  How did the pie contest go? Emmett asked. Will you be taking me to lunch with all that prize money?

  Bessie frowned. Not unless you want to get something to eat at the Piggly Wiggly. I got one of the runner up prizes, she explained.

  Emmett looked surprised. What? Who won then?

  Dianne Masterson. And can you believe her pie was a dry old thing, and the filling didn’t look right. Bessie clamped her mouth shut. After a deep breath, she continued. I won’t say any more about it because that’s just mean and it makes me look petty. But, I will say that Frank Reed is one great big idiot.

  Frank Reed? Did he judge the contest?

  Bessie nodded. He and the other bank employees did the judging. The funny thing is, I swear that they all loved my pecan pie. I had so many compliments…

  Emmett shook his head. Well, now, that makes sense to me. If Frank Reed was one of the judges, and Dianne Masterson was one of the contestants, there was no way that anybody other than Dianne was going to win that thing. Bessie gave him a puzzled look, so he explained. There’s a few folks in town who are convinced that Frank and Dianne have been seeing each other on the sly.

  Bessie tutted. Oh, that’s just shameful!

  Oh, it’s worse than that. See, Frank is married and his wife and Dianne both volunteer with the Ladies Auxilliary group down at the VFW hall. If you ask me, it’s a miracle his wife hasn’t found out about it by now.

  Bessie narrowed her eyes. And just how do you know all this, Emmett Barnes?

  He grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. Bessie, I know a lot of things about a lot of people in this town. It’s my job, remember?

  Well, you’re not on duty today, are you? So let’s go enjoy this fair and watch my grandson and his dog win all the prizes over at the dog show. She linked her arm with his and they headed across the fairground, followed by Devon and Karma.

  The dog show turned out to be much more entertaining than the pie contest was. Bessie cheered Devon on as he took his place on the rectangular stretch of grass marked off for the dogs. All of the entrants lined up together, with each dog showing off their best tricks one by one. Karma was last, and he made an impressive sight when he fetched a rubber Nyla bone, stayed in place on command, and gave Devon a clever high five.

  Unfortunately, as clever as Karma was, he simply couldn’t compare to the collie that performed just before him. The collie’s owner held a hoop for the dog to jump through, then she had the dog walk on its back legs carrying a large plastic bone, which it dropped at the feet of the judges before hop-walking back to her owner. The collie took first place, but Karma came in second, winning his owner a gift certificate to the local pizza restaurant and a bagful of gourmet dog treats for Karma.

  Devon couldn’t stop smiling as he left the display area and ma
de his way back to his grandmother and Emmett. Okay, so it’s not first place, he said as he approached them, but I’m pretty sure that collie was a robot or something.

  Bessie and Emmett both gave Karma a pat on the head. Let’s go stop by the agricultural area next if you don’t mind, Bessie asked. I hear they have some of those fancy hens with the fluffy feathers. Maybe your mother won’t notice if I sneak a couple of them home with me, Bessie said to Devon. She was only kidding about sneaking the chickens home--she’d need a much bigger coop for that--but she was still interested in taking a look at the creatures for herself.

  They made their way down the center of the fair, stopping long enough to get an ice cold drink for each of them and a bottle of water for Karma. The dog lapped up the water noisily from the bowl Devon brought with him, For a few minutes, the three people enjoyed standing in the shade under the awning of the lemonade stand, content to watch the passersby while Karma drank his water, splashing it messily over the sides of the bowl and up into his face.

  Bessie fanned herself with a paper fan that she retrieved from her purse, another essential item she kept on hand, at least during the summer months. A voice rose above the general chatter, and it was countered by another. Both sounded strained and angry, so of course, Bessie listened just a little harder.

  Soon she picked out where the voices were coming from. As she peered around the corner of the lemonade stand, two women were in the middle of a very heated discussion. One was Dianne Masterson, the other was the pretty bank employee wearing the sleeveless blouse.

  You just keep your nose out of my business, Kellyann. I ought to tell Frank to fire you for being so nosy, you know. Dianne’s voice was high and blustery, filled with frustration and barely restrained anger.

  Dianne, he’s been lying to you. I have tried to keep my mouth shut about everything, you know I have. Do you think it’s been easy hiding your relationship from Mrs. Reed? I have been dancing a fine dance trying to keep Frank Reed’s secrets, and I’ve had enough. You know he is never going to leave her, right?

  Bessie pursed her lips. What she’d just heard was awful and she was certain that she shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation, but at the same time, the women were having it out in the open, so surely they didn’t care who heard them. Well, I’m sure they hope Mrs. Reed doesn’t hear them, Bessie amended in her head.

  Excuse me, but I’m not going to take relationship advice from you, Kellyann Caruthers. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go attend to some business.

  Well, just don’t say I didn’t warn you when he refuses to leave her, Kellyann called out. Moments later, Bessie caught a glimpse of Dianne stalking across the fairground.

  Did you hear that? Bessie whispered to Emmett, who was chewing thoughtfully on a piece of beef jerky.

  Hear what?Before she could answer, the woman from the bank, Kellyann, appeared from around the side of the lemonade stand. She nearly ran into Bessie but stopped just in time. Karma let out a low growl as Kellyanne nearly stepped on him, too, trying to reposition herself.

  Oh, my, I’m so sorry, she said quickly, I should have been watching where I was going. She had an oversized purse in her hands and she appeared to have been digging around in it while she was walking. I was too busy trying to find my schedule for the judging today--I’m sure I have to go judge some jam in just a little while, she explained.

  Emmett reached into his back pocket and pulled out a copy of the events schedule that he’d picked up from the admission booth. Here you go. I can get another one--wouldn’t want you missing out on the jams and jellies contest. Martha Davis is entering her muscadine jelly this year. If you haven’t tasted Martha’s muscadine jelly, you don’t know what you’re missing.

  Bessie raised one eyebrow. Oh, really? And just how many times have you tasted Martha’s muscadine jelly, Emmett Barnes?

  Kellyann accepted the schedule and thanked him, saving him from having to respond to Bessie’s question. Thank you, Chief Barnes. She glanced at her watch. I guess I’d better run. Hope y’all are having a good time. She smiled, a quick flash of teeth and a wave of her hand, then she turned and hurried through the crowd.

  Oh, my, Bessie said as she watched the woman disappear. That was interesting.

  How do you mean? Emmett asked, washing down his jerky with the last of his lemonade.

  Well, I overheard-- Bessie’s reply was cut short, interrupted by a piercing scream.

  Help! Oh, help me! Somebody, please, get the police!

  Bessie and Emmett turned simultaneously towards the woman’s voice. It was coming from the banker’s tent, the one that Frank had taken Dianne to give her the prize money.

  That’s Dorothy Reed, Emmett said with complete certainty. He tossed his cup into the nearby trash can and started walking. Bessie fell in behind him, determined to find out what all the screaming was about.

  A woman stood at the entrance to the tent. She was breathing in fast, irregular breaths, her eyes darting from side to side, presumably looking for the help she’d called for.

  Mrs. Reed, Emmett called out to her before he reached her. You called for the police--what’s wrong?

  It’s...oh, it’s awful! My husband is in there, she said, pointing inside the tent. He needs help. I don’t think he’s breathing, she added, her voice cracking just at the end.

  Bessie put an arm around the woman’s trembling shoulders. Here, now, let’s step aside and let Emmett take a look. He’s a policeman, she added, hoping to calm the woman down.

  Emmett entered the tent quickly but cautiously. It was light enough to see, but still somewhat dim, and the whir of a box fan drowned out all the noise from the fair. He found Frank almost immediately. He was lying sprawled across the ground, one hand resting on his chest, the other reaching outwards. Emmett felt for a pulse, but he found nothing.

  Bessie watched the entrance to the tent like a hawk, waiting for a signal from Emmett to tell her what to do next. When he appeared, he said nothing, but pulled her aside, away from Dorothy’s hearing.

  Is he…? Bessie didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Emmett’s face told her everything, and the small nod of his head confirmed it.

  We’ll need to get the coroner in here, but we need to do this quietly. I’m going to need to call in some backup--I think one of my men is working security here today anyway. He was talking aloud to himself, a trait that Bessie normally found quite sweet. Now, it was just morbid.

  Em, what can I do? She pulled his attention to her and asked him again. How can I help?

  Emmett patted her on the arm affectionately. Could you stay with Mrs. Reed until I can have somebody take her statement? And try to keep her calm. We don’t want people in a panic over this.

  Bessie nodded, then returned her attention to Dorothy. Mrs. Reed? My name is Bessie and I’m going to sit with you for a little while.

  To her surprise, Dorothy only sighed. He’s dead, isn’t he?

  Bessie nodded her head. It seems so. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  Dorothy closed her eyes. Thank you, she replied, then she opened them again. I think I’d like to wait somewhere else if you don’t mind.

  Bessie looked to Emmett, who nodded. Just stay close by so I can find you when I need to, he told them.

  There was a picnic area set up across the way beside a concession stand selling nachos and hot dogs. It was shaded and would provide a cool place to wait, so Bessie led the woman to one of the tables there. As she sat down beside her, she couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that only hours ago Bessie had been so sure that she was going to win Cooperville’s only annual pie contest. Now, the only thing she felt sure of was that Dorothy Reed was having a much more terrible day than Bessie was. There’s nothing like a death to put your own troubles into perspective, she thought, and pulled a clean handkerchief from her bottomless purse and passed it to Dorothy.

  4

  Do you know what a stun gun looks like? Bessie shifted on the hard picnic ta
ble seat. She’d spent the last half hour watching the paramedics and police staff try and remove Frank’s body as discreetly as possible. A temporary cordon had been set up, redirecting pedestrian traffic around the tent so they could work in relative privacy.

  Devon, who’d had his nose stuck in his phone for most of that time, looked up at her. Well, yeah, I do. I mean, I’ve seen them on websites and stuff, and a kid brought one to school last year, but he had to give it up to the principal because technically it can be used as a weapon. Why?

  Bessie hesitated. Well, you know when Emmett asked me to stay with Mrs. Reed while he took care of things with, um, Mr. Reed? She wanted to go in and see him one more time. She said she wanted to see him before the coroner does his thing, you know?

  Did you let her? Devon asked, his eyes wide.

  Well, Emmett asked me to keep an eye on the tent while he went to find the other policeman. I really didn’t see any harm in letting her go in there, so when Emmett left, I just took her in for a minute. She really was upset, and I can’t say I blame her. His shirt was unbuttoned, his face was all tensed up--he must have really been in pain when he died.

  What’s that got to do with stun guns?

  Well, I couldn’t help but notice something really weird on Frank’s chest. He had two little red dots, like freckles, only bigger and darker, right in the center of his chest. Well, I didn’t say anything to Dorothy, but they looked an awful lot to me like stun gun marks.

  Grandma, how on earth would you know what stun gun marks would look like? Devon quizzed her. Have you ever tased anyone?

  Oh, goodness, no! I don’t carry one of those things--I’d probably use the wrong end and zap myself, she replied. But I watch the news--I know what those things can do.