A Pocket Full of Pie

by Leena Clover

  “They haven’t called yet, but they will.”

  I tried to console Sylvie. There had been no official statement yet about the cause of death in our local crime, but the jungle patrol was in full swing. People were calling in to cancel their pie orders. A few pies wouldn’t make a difference to the diner business, but it was the loss of reputation that worried Jon and Sylvie.

  Tony turned up at the library the next day. We have a standing lunch date at least 2-3 times a week.

  “Where do you want to eat?” he asked.

  “Let’s just go to the food court. The sooner I get back, the sooner I can get out of here.”

  We walked to the food court and I got my usual chicken sandwich. Tony had a double cheeseburger. We both got fries. I was working out, after all.

  In between bites of the crispy chicken and greasy fries, I brought Tony up to speed.

  “What can we do to help?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

  A group of women sat down at a table next to us. They were vaguely familiar. Swan Creek is a small town. I know the handful of locals, and people I went to school with. And then there are people who work on campus. I remembered these women from the bursar’s office.

  “My Tommy’s raising a stink,” one plump woman complained to the other, dousing her salad in a creamy dressing.

  “Why?” the other woman asked, shoveling a big bite of salad in her mouth.

  All three women were in their fifties, wearing plain skirts and blouses, with a string of pearls at their throat and gray hair at the temples. They were slightly overweight, and all three were eating salads drenched in some creamy dressing.

  “He says my pie crust is not flaky enough. And it never gets cooked. His Mama doesn’t like it.”

  “Aren’t you getting your usual order?” the third woman asked.

  The other two looked at her as if she was from another planet.

  “Don’t be a fool, Ada! Don’t you know?”

  Ada continued to be clueless.

  “Know what?”

  An urgent whispering ensued and Ada sat back, her eyes gleaming. She was slightly out of breath.

  “I had no idea,” she swore.

  “I cancelled our order last night. And you should do it too.”

  “But do we know for sure?” Ada dared to contradict them.

  “Who cares?” the first woman pounced. “Are you willing to risk your life for the sake of that pie?”

  Ada shook her head.

  “There’s got to be some truth in it,” the second woman said. “No smoke without fire.”

  I tapped my foot in anguish as I ploughed through my sandwich, listening to this crap. Tony kept a firm hold on my hand, keeping me from getting up and giving them a piece of my mind.

  “Nothing you say’s going to change their minds,” he stated.

  Tony’s ears had turned red, a sure sign he was angry. He just had a better control over his actions than I did.

  “What I don’t get is, where is this coming from?” I fumed.

  “I saw the news last night. They were showing that segment again. They mentioned that some pie was found on the bench.”

  “So what? Who told them it came from Sylvie’s?”

  Tony shrugged.

  “Chances are it did! Everyone in Swan Creek knows Sylvie’s.”

  “I think it’s those two women – Nancy and Nellie. They’re the ones behind this.”

  “Calm down, Meera. You don’t know that. And you’re doing the same thing, accusing them of something without proof.”

  I was getting tired of the whole thing.

  We walked back to the library and Tony waved goodbye. I dragged myself to the Camry and pulled in at Sylvie’s, an hour later than usual. It was past 6 PM, and normally, I would’ve had to park at the back. The parking lot at Sylvie’s was almost deserted. Cars lined the opposite end of the street.

  I pushed the door open with a heavy heart and my eyes met Sylvie’s as she stood staunchly behind the counter. A berry pie was cooling on the counter.

  “How are you, dear?” Sylvie tried to be upbeat.

  Becky came out of the kitchen.

  “Is there some event at Pioneer tonight? Our dinner crowd hasn’t come in yet.”

  I shook my head. The order book lay open on a table, and several rows in it were scratched out.

  “The phone’s been ringing off the hook,” Sylvie told me just as it trilled again.

  “Sylvie’s Diner,” Becky answered.

  Her face changed and became mutinous.

  “Any reason?” she asked. “Change of plans? Well, you better finalize your plans next time before making reservations. We’ll be charging a fine for cancellations.”

  She slammed the phone down. Without a single word, she grabbed the pen on the counter and scratched through another row in the order book. She almost tore through the paper.

  A lone tear appeared in Sylvie’s eye.

  “Calm down, child. It’s just a rough patch. All a part of life.”

  “How many people coming for dinner now?” I asked.

  Sylvie looked at the book.

  “Seven.”

  “Less work for us,” I tried to joke.

  “I think I’m going to cancel the dinner. Make it easier on the remaining people.”

  Sylvie was thoughtful. Jon had come out, untying his apron. He hung it on a hook and placed an arm around Sylvie.

  “That seems best for now, Cherie. We’ll do it next year.”

  I thought of the elaborate menu we had come up with, the recipes we had tested.

  “Meera tried out all them recipes,” Sylvie groaned.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I told her. “I can make some of my cranberry relish at Aunt Reema’s.”

  I stopped at Tony’s on the way home, hoping he was still working. He came out when he saw me pull up.

  “What’s up, Meera. Any news?”

  I poured out everything in a rush and paced the parking lot. Tony pulled me closer and we sat on the hood of my car, oblivious to the icy wind blowing in.

  “How about a dinner date?” he asked.

  “Are you out of your mind?” I rolled my eyes.

  Tony sometimes makes these lame attempts at humor to diffuse a stressful situation.

  “I hear there’s this fancy new place in town. Why don’t we check it out?”

  I stared at Tony, thinking he had completely lost it. Then I connected the dots.

  “Would this place be called Nancy’s?” I asked, putting on an impish smile.

  “It might,” he grinned.

  “Thank you, kind sir! I would love to accept your kind invitation.”

  I fluttered my eyelids and fanned myself and we burst out laughing. I went home in a better mood. Dinner was almost served and Motee Ba had sounded the gong.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help around here,” I apologized to her. “It’s all these extra hours at work. Next week should be better.”

  “At least I get to eat my wife’s cooking,” Pappa said happily as he came in.

  “Live it up, Pappa. It’s back to my one pot meals next week.”

  Motee Ba and I shared a smile as Pappa muttered something.

  The next day flew by and I drove home to get dressed for my date. I had told Sylvie I had some work related crisis. We didn’t want to tell anyone about our plans. At least not until they yielded something concrete.

  I put on a frock in honor of the date. It was a burnt orange silk with simple lines. I pulled on brown boots and borrowed a pair of Motee Ba’s garnet earrings. I spritzed on some Shalimar perfume and I was ready.

  I heard a car pull up and I ran to the door.

  “Let him come in,” Motee Ba twinkled. “Make him wait a few minutes.”

  “It’s not a real date, Motee Ba!” I burst out.

  “You are sharing a meal with a handsome young man. Someone you like. Whatever your reason for going out, it’s a date.”

  I kissed my granny an
d we shared a smile. The doorbell rang. Tony had chosen to enter by the front door, so maybe there was something to this dating business.

  “For you, Meera,” my brother Jeet yelled, pitching his voice louder than the blaring TV.

  I went out with my granny.

  Tony hugged and kissed her.

  “Hello Granny. Don’t I look good?”

  He twirled and made a big show of it. Motee Ba pinched his cheek.

  “Mom told me to ring the doorbell,” Tony whispered in Motee Ba’s ear.

  Tony was wearing khakis and a snow white shirt. His sports coat made him look grown up and handsome.

  “Shall we?” he asked me, extending an arm.

  I held on to his arm tightly and we waved goodbye to the company assembled in the living room. Pappa tapped his cane, annoyed at the interruption. Dad was closeted in his study, as usual.

  The November sky was already dark, even though it was barely 6 PM. Orange and purple streaks hugged the horizon and the clear skies promised a starry night.

  We were both quiet as Tony merged onto the highway. He had brought his mother’s sedan for the occasion. It was easier to get into than the pickup. This kind of thoughtfulness is typical of Tony. Plus the car made me feel special.

  It took all of five minutes to reach Nancy’s, and before I could pick out a CD I wanted to listen to, Tony was trying to squeeze into a parking space in the crowded parking lot.

  He rushed out to open the door for me. I beamed at him and took his hand as he helped me out. We wouldn’t have to pretend much to look like a couple on a date.

  “There’s a 30 minute wait,” the hostess, a young chit who looked barely sixteen informed us saucily.

  “I have a reservation. Sinclair.”

  Tony smiled at the girl and she blushed.

  “Right this way, Sir,” she almost bowed, ushering us in.

  I didn’t have to wonder why Nancy’s was the fancy diner.

  Chapter 5

  Round tables filled the cavernous space and booths lined the tall glass windows. Unlike the vinyl booths at Sylvie’s, these were made of real leather. The tables were of mixed sizes, some cozy enough for two. Snowy white tablecloths sparkled, and a votive candle in small hurricane glasses graced each table. A small bud vase held a fresh rose.

  “This is beautiful,” I exclaimed.

  I believe in giving credit where it is due. Someone had done a great decorating job for Nancy’s. Not to mention the amount of money they must have sunk in it. It all seemed a bit much for our small town.

  The hostess ushered us to a table in the center of the room. It was set for two, but it was spacious. A server turned up and took our drink orders.

  They had wine, another feather in their crown.

  The dinner special was Coq Au Vin, some kind of fancy French style chicken. Tony ordered steak with herbed butter.

  “Boy, they really are fancy,” Tony noted.

  We gobbled our salads and took our time over the entrees. I was looking out for a glimpse of Nancy or Nellie.

  My eyes strayed to an elderly woman who sat alone in a booth. She was reading a book and eating soup. She had her back to me but something about her seemed familiar. Maybe someone from campus, I thought.

  Nellie came out, dressed in a chef’s jacket.

  “Welcome to Nancy’s, the fancy diner,” she said. “I hope ya’ll are enjoying your food?”

  We nodded and complimented her. I waited for a sign of recognition but Nellie moved on to another table.

  Our server returned with the dessert menu, right when we were finishing our entrees.

  “How about some pie?” Tony asked. “Some apple pie a la mode sounds just the thing after that steak.”

  “We don’t serve pies,” the server said.

  “Not a single one?” I asked incredulously.

  He shook his head.

  “But why?”

  “We just don’t. There was an incident recently in this town. It was pie related.”

  He hesitated as he said ‘incident’.

  “Are you talking about Jordan Harris?” I questioned. “There is no definite proof that any pie was involved.”

  “How can you get away without serving pie, anyway?” Tony asked.

  We live in pie country. We want our chicken fried steak and our barbecued ribs, but they mean nothing without pie. Apple, berry, pecan, banana cream, lemon meringue – we want them all.

  The server began to look worried.

  “I have a six layer chocolate cake, and a caramel swirl cheesecake. Or carrot cake.”

  “Why no pie?” Tony persisted.

  The server leaned forward.

  “Look, it’s company policy. We will not be serving pie, and if anyone asks for it, we are supposed to tell them about the pie related incident.”

  “So you just want to turn people off pie?” I demanded.

  “Just doing my job,” the server shrugged.

  “Let’s just get dessert across the street,” Tony said loudly. “At Sylvie’s.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” a woman at an adjoining table hissed.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Tony said confidently.

  The woman was shaking her head, widening her eyes at her companion. A man who sat with her spoke up.

  “I wouldn’t take that kind of a risk, son. Not with such a pretty young lady by my side.”

  He leered at me and the woman rapped him on the knuckles.

  Tony asked for the check. He motioned me to stay quiet. I was boiling inside but we had got what we came for. Now we knew why people were calling in to cancel orders and reservations.

  The older woman in the booth paid up before us and walked by. I felt something familiar but couldn’t place it.

  We walked out and got in the car. Tony crossed the road and parked in Sylvie’s empty parking lot.

  “You look pretty, child,” Sylvie smiled as we entered. “And so do you.” She smiled at Tony.

  Becky came out and her eyes popped out of her head.

  “Were you two on a date?”

  Tony looked embarrassed.

  “Sort of,” I admitted. “More a covert mission.”

  “We don’t get them fancy words, Meera,” Jon teased. “Spit it out clearly.”

  I gave them a quick account of where we’d had dinner. And then I told them about the dessert menu at Nancy’s.

  “See, I was right!” Becky exclaimed. “Those two witches …”

  “Becky,” Sylvie warned. “We’ll not be talking bad stuff about our neighbors.”

  “She’s right though, isn’t she?” I argued.

  Sylvie seemed shocked. She sat down in a booth and Jon collapsed next to her.

  “All these years we ran the business,” Jon began. “We never pointed a finger at other restaurants.”

  “It’s not just them, though,” Tony summed up. “The locals are talking too.”

  “Yeah!” Becky pressed on. “So there’s some really bad rumors going around. And we know who’s spreading them. Now what?”

  “It won’t last, will it?” Sylvie’s voice was hopeful. “People know us, right? They’ll be back in a few days or weeks.”

  “But how long can we afford to take a hit, honey?” Jon asked. “All our Thanksgiving orders have been cancelled. We need to do something now!”

  “We need help. Yes Sir!” Sylvie nodded. “If it was just a few less pie orders, it wasn’t a big deal. But we’ve had almost no business for over a week. We can’t stay afloat much longer if this continues.”

  They looked at each other, and then they looked at me.

  “Will you help us, Meera?”

  “Anything for you, Sylvie. But I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “We saw how you helped find that missing girl. And you already found out who’s spreading nasty tales about my pie. Can you prove the pie had nothing to do with that poor boy’s death?”

  I looked at Tony and Becky, my staunch helpers.

&nb
sp; “What do you say, guys?”

  “We’re with you!” Becky got excited and brandished her spatula, ready for battle.

  “So you want me to find out who killed that man on the bench?” I spelled it out clearly, in case I had been mistaken.

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  “I can try.”

  I was amazed at the faith these people have in me.

  Jon and Sylvie were all smiles.

  “We knew we could count on you,” Sylvie said, slipping behind the counter.

  “Where do we start?” I asked Becky.

  “How about that girl who was here with the guy? The girl friend?”

  “I’m not sure I remember her,” I told Becky.

  “You will, once you see her. She comes around here often enough. Let’s make a list of anything we can think of and we can talk about it tomorrow. I have to close up now.”

  I nodded as I stifled a yawn.

  Tony drove me home.

  “I had a good time,” I said shyly. “Maybe we should do this again.”

  “Sure, anytime,” Tony smiled, ruffling my hair, kissing me on the cheek.

  He walked me to the kitchen door. Motee Ba was sipping herbal tea, waiting for us. We gave her the lowdown on what had happened. She bristled with anger when she heard about what Nancy Robinson was up to.

  “You did good, kids!” she patted Tony on the back.

  “What’s Dad going to feel about this?” I asked.

  Both Pappa and Dad had been against my trying to find Jyothi, the missing girl, earlier this year. But I had taken a stand and they had relented. At that time, my own neck was on the line. I wondered how they would feel about me taking on some amateur sleuthing for someone else. I knew they were worried about my safety. They thought it was too dangerous. Then Sylvie’s kind face flashed in front of me. I tightened my resolve.

  “He’ll be against it,” Motee Ba voiced my thoughts. “He will advise Jon to hire a lawyer.”

  “I have your back, Meera,” Tony reassured me. “But aren’t you losing sight of one thing? What about the rumors? Shouldn’t someone confront that woman about this? I mean, she’s causing harm without reason. It’s defamation. It’s against the law!”

  Tony went to law school for a couple of semesters. He knows this stuff.

  “Talking about it will only draw more attention. I think it’s best to ignore those rumors. And deny them if anyone talks about it to us.”