A Pocket Full of Pie

by Leena Clover

  That made me pause. If I were being logical, I had to accept Cam’s argument. I decided to steer him to the purpose of my call.

  “Actually, I have a question for you.”

  “What is it?” he asked indulgently.

  “Were you present at Willow Lake Park that night?”

  There was silence at the other end.

  I waited a few seconds and prompted him. “Cam?”

  “Who told you that, Meera?” Cam asked flippantly.

  “Someone claims to have seen you there, talking to Jordan. You didn’t mention this before.”

  “I was there,” Cam responded with a sigh.

  “Why?”

  “Jordan had mentioned they might be going to the lake after dinner. I had a few drinks at the bar. Then I thought I would go and talk to them.”

  “Even when you knew they were on a date?” I pressed. “A special date celebrating their engagement?”

  Cam laughed. I could imagine a naughty, irreverent look on his face.

  “That engagement was a farce, if you ask me.”

  “That’s not the point, Cam. Did you do it just to irritate them?”

  “Look, I don’t know. Like I told you, I was pretty wasted. I don’t remember why I did it. I was just driving around. There’s nowhere much to go in that small town anyway.”

  I knew that part was right. Cam was still speaking.

  “I walked around the lake, I think, trying to spot them. Then I saw them arguing. It was something silly like where to live after they got married. Then Jessica went off somewhere. And Jordan started talking to some other dude Jessica knows from college.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “We talked for a while. He was pretty upset. He was shoveling pie in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a month. That was one of the few weaknesses he had. Stress eating.”

  “Wait a minute. So you saw Jordan eat the pie that killed him. Why haven’t you said anything about it all along?”

  Cam was quiet.

  “You know this doesn’t put you in a favorable light,” I told him.

  “Why would I harm my own brother?” he asked me again.

  “What happened after that?”

  “He wanted to be alone. So I left and drove to Jessica’s. I took the key and crashed at her place. Then I drove home in the morning.”

  “You need to tell all this to the police,” I said urgently. “It will help them establish the time of death.”

  Cam was quiet.

  “Do you think I was the last person to talk to Jordan?” he asked me.

  “It’s beginning to look that way, Cam,” I said gently.

  “I don’t even remember much of what was said,” he said, sounding bitter. “Nice big brother I have turned out to him. I was right there, but I couldn’t protect him.”

  Nothing I said would have changed anything. I thanked Cam and hung up.

  “I suppose you got all that?” I asked Tony and Becky.

  “Most of it,” they agreed.

  “Cam’s big on the theatrics. But I don’t think he harmed Jordan.”

  I moved back to the board.

  “So we were looking at this second circle,” I started again.

  “We know almost nothing about this woman,” Becky pointed out. “But if anyone has a strong motive for revenge, it’s her.”

  Tony and I both agreed.

  “Wasn’t Stan going to find out where she was?” Tony asked.

  “The police are working on it, but no news on her yet. Maybe Stan’s found something new today.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Motee Ba came in.

  “You’re back!”

  I rushed to hug her and ushered her to a seat on the sofa.

  “How’s Sylvie?” I asked. “Is she feeling better now?”

  “She cried her head off for hours. Reema took her home.” Motee Ba looked at Tony. “I wanted to bring her here, but Anita’s visiting. And I knew you kids would have turned the guest house into a war room of sorts.”

  She swept her arm around, and noticed the giant board. She stood up and read everything we had on there.

  “Good work,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

  “It’s all beginning to run together now,” I complained. “Nothing’s making a lot of sense.”

  “Have you looked at the time?” Becky gasped.

  None of us had noticed it was beyond 8 PM.

  “No wonder I’m starving,” Tony smiled.

  “We’ve got some leftovers,” Motee Ba said. “Why don’t you kids order something? That way, you can continue working on this.”

  “Call Stan, Meera,” Tony reminded me. “Ask him to come over for dinner.”

  We put in an order for a truck load of Chinese food. Motee Ba left and we all collapsed on the couch.

  Stan agreed to come by. I switched on the TV, and we all agreed to suspend any talk of the case until Stan got there.

  The food and Stan arrived at the same time.

  “Let’s eat first, please!” Tony begged.

  I looked at Stan as I ladled Hunan Chicken onto my plate along with some Lo Mein. I grabbed a couple of Crab Rangoon.

  Stan looked relieved.

  “I’m exhausted. I need to eat first too, Meera.”

  Everyone loaded their plates. The next fifteen minutes were spent munching greasy Chinese food, washing it down with beer or soda.

  Finally, I broke open a fortune cookie and read the cryptic message.

  ‘We often ignore what’s staring us in the face.’

  “That’s helpful!” I scowled, trashing the paper.

  Tony loaded big bowls with ice cream and drenched it in chocolate sauce. We ate our ice cream, summoning the energy to tackle yet another big discussion.

  The hour was late and the clock was ticking. We needed to pull ourselves together for Jon.

  Chapter 27

  “How’s Jon holding up?” I asked Stan.

  He shrugged, looking apologetic.

  “As well as possible, under the circumstances.”

  “Do you think he did this on purpose?” Becky asked, sounding defensive.

  “No one’s saying that. We think it could be a case of negligence.” He held up his hand as I opened my mouth. “It’s possible, Meera. Think about it a bit. No one can be perfect.”

  Becky crossed her arms and looked away. Her mouth was set in a firm line. She worked at the diner so maybe she could be implicated too. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “Personally, I don’t think anyone at the diner is responsible,” Stan admitted. “But I have to do my job. The only way to get around this is to find out the real culprit.”

  I pointed to the board. At first glance it looked like a lot of chicken scratch on a giant white surface. You had to actually read everything to make sense of it. We were quiet as Stan went through all of it.

  “Have you arrived at any conclusion yet?” he asked, looking around at each of us.

  I shook my head.

  “We haven’t found anyone with a strong enough motive. And then, all of them seem to have good alibis. We placed Cam at the scene of the crime. But as unpredictable as he is, I don’t think he did this.”

  “My money’s on Colin Stevens,” Tony told Stan.

  “We haven’t finished talking about the second circle yet,” Becky reminded us.

  “Jordan’s ex. We know nothing about her.” I looked at Stan hopefully. “Were you able to check on her, Stan?”

  Stan smiled.

  “I was coming to it. Eleanor Robinson checked herself out about six months ago.”

  “What do you mean, checked herself out?” I asked, shocked. “Wasn’t she incarcerated in an asylum?”

  “Incarcerated? No. And in an asylum? No.”

  Stan looked smug. I bet he was holding on to some vital information.

  “What do you mean?” Becky burst out.

  “We questioned a few people who lived in the area. Jordan and the girl we
re tight. She’d grown up on a ranch, in a very protected environment. She couldn’t take it when Jordan dumped her for Jessica.”

  We had heard about this already.

  “They had a fight and she slapped him, maybe scratched his face.” Stan paused. “The Jordans, they made it look like she was mentally unstable. I don’t know how that whole insane thing came into play. A local judge convinced her to go into a sanatorium type of place.”

  “We’ve heard all that before,” I said impatiently.

  “The point is,” Stan stressed, “there were no actual charges filed. She went there voluntarily. And so she checked herself out of there voluntarily.”

  “Is she back at her ranch then? Someone would have seen her by now.”

  Stan sighed.

  “They sold the ranch long ago. It was just her mother and her, anyway. We tried to find out if she mentioned her plans to anyone over at that sanatorium.”

  “And?” I asked, leaning forward on the edge of my seat.

  “She may have gone to Dallas, but we haven’t found her exact location yet.”

  Tony looked interested.

  “That’s not very far. She could be here in a few hours, any time she wanted to.”

  Stan agreed to that.

  “Fact is, she hasn’t come across as someone who would hold a grudge. She was a simple girl. Barely graduated high school. Spent her life on a ranch in a town smaller than ours.”

  “Jessica’s definitely the smarter one then,” Becky said. “I suppose she was more appealing to Jordan.”

  “Hello. Have you looked at Jessica?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Beauty and brains is an irresistible combination.”

  I ignored Tony. He had been getting on my nerves a lot.

  “Are you continuing to look for this girl?” I asked Stan.

  “We are. I am beginning to think she may have changed her name. There’s not much of a trail.”

  “Do you have a photo?” I asked.

  “We are waiting on one,” Stan told me.

  The photo reminded me of my age progression program. I hadn’t talked to Stan about it yet.

  “Stan, I have decided to reopen my mother’s case,” I began.

  Stan looked surprised.

  “But I thought …”

  I wrung my hands, trying to swallow the bile that rose up in my throat.

  “Well, yes, but I still want to find out what happened to her. Maybe some new information came to light after all these years.”

  “That’s been known to happen,” Stan nodded. “A lot of cold cases are being solved thanks to DNA evidence, or new advances in forensics.”

  “Ya, well,” I nodded. “I am contacting different departments and trying to increase the search area. Since this is the place from where she went missing, I thought I should let the Swan Creek department know.”

  “You might need to send a formal email or letter,” Stan said. “I’m not sure what the exact procedure is.”

  “I’ll do whatever’s needed. But I wanted to give you these first.” I handed over the set of 10 photos I had printed out. “I can email you a digital image too. I’m doing that with other people.”

  “What’s this?” Stan asked curiously.

  I told Stan about the program I had written.

  “This is a projection of what she might look like.”

  Stan gave me an admiring look.

  “That’s brilliant. I will put these on file right away.”

  I hesitated.

  “Have you been able to trace that car?” I asked Stan.

  I was finally beginning to believe someone was following me.

  “I was coming to that,” Stan said. “We ran the tags your aunt gave us. Turns out it’s a rental car like we suspected. And this time, it’s from a small local place.”

  The excitement in the room ramped up.

  “So? You know who it was rented out to?” Tony rushed ahead.

  Stan winced.

  “Not really.”

  “How’s that possible?” Becky groaned. “Doesn’t the rental company have it on their record?”

  Stan shook his head.

  “It’s not really a rental company. It’s more of a garage. They are not very particular about their records. And they can look the other way if they get more money.”

  “So you mean this woman paid them to not write down her name?” I asked.

  “Something of that sort,” Stan shrugged. “They won’t say exactly. I think someone took a cash payment, maybe a double payment, to keep this off the books.”

  “Now what?” Tony asked.

  “We have told them to inform us whenever the car is returned. Hopefully, we will get there in time to talk to this person.”

  I slumped down on the couch and let out a yawn.

  “We still haven’t considered the third circle,” Becky said in a tired voice.

  “That’s farfetched,” Stan said, reading the board. “But it’s been known to happen. It is almost impossible to find out unless someone speaks up.”

  We were talking about the ranch hands or any unknown person who may have wanted to harm Jordan.

  “Let’s call it a night,” Tony said, getting up.

  “I have to leave now, Meera,” Stan stood up to leave too. “You have done a good job here. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  Stan left and Tony and Becky collapsed on a couch.

  “Why don’t you guys stay over?” I asked. “That way, we can get an early start in the morning.”

  Tony and Becky readily agreed, each staking claim to a room in the guest house. I walked over to the main house and crept into my room. A hot shower helped me calm down a bit. I fell into a deep sleep which was thankfully not interrupted by any bad dreams.

  Motee Ba was stirring a big pot of oatmeal when I walked into the kitchen the next morning. Becky and Tony were already munching on toast, guzzling coffee while waiting for the oatmeal. Pappa was tapping his cane, spooning his soft boiled egg into his mouth.

  My Aunt Anita was quiet for a change, pouring sugar over her grapefruit.

  The phone rang. It was Sylvie on the line for Motee Ba.

  “How are you Sylvie? Are you at the diner?”

  The cops hadn’t shut down the diner this time, but Sylvie wasn’t in good enough shape to run it. Becky waved her hand, trying to get my attention.

  “Becky wants to know if we should go open the diner,” I told Sylvie.

  “I don’t know, child. Who’s going to turn up, anyway?”

  “It will be fine, Sylvie,” I tried to soothe her.

  “Honey said ya’ll were working on finding out who killed that boy. Why don’t you keep on doing that?”

  “But what about the diner?” I asked.

  I thought the diner would be a good distraction for Sylvie.

  “It’s not like the folks need me to be open anymore,” Sylvie started.

  People in small towns like Swan Creek depend on certain places. The diner was one such place. There weren’t too many restaurants in town. And none of them were as economical as Sylvie’s, or provided a down home menu that the locals depended on. It was the place you went to for your eggs and bacon in the morning, or your soup or sandwich for lunch. And it’s the place you went to for a slice of pie. I wondered what the future was for Sylvie’s, if Jon was convicted. I tried to steer myself away from worst case scenarios.

  Sylvie had continued talking while I was lost in thought. There was a pause, and I realized she had asked me something.

  “I’m sorry Sylvie, I didn’t get that last part.”

  Sylvie sighed.

  “I know you must be exhausted, Meera. And you’re supposed to be on Christmas break.”

  “I’m fine, Sylvie,” I tried to reassure her. “We’ll have Jon home for Christmas, you’ll see.”

  Sylvie let out another sigh.

  “Now what were you saying?” I reminded her.

  “Don’t worry about the diner. And tell Becky the sa
me thing. We’ll let those Robinsons earn a buck or two.”

  Bells clanged in my head as something clicked.

  “Who are the Robinsons?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  “It’s those two women from that fancy diner place!” I could almost see Sylvie shaking her head.

  “You mean Nancy’s?” I asked.

  I wanted to be doubly sure.

  “That’s the one alright,” Sylvie said, suddenly sounding tired.

  “Sylvie?” My heart skipped a beat. “Do you remember I asked you to make a list of all the people in the diner the day Jordan and Jessica were there?”

  “I have it,” Sylvie confirmed. “Maybe Becky can add something to it. My memory’s not that good anymore.”

  I coaxed her to tell me the names she had come up with. I wrote them down on the back of an envelope I found on a side table. Finally, I hung up, forgetting that Sylvie had called to talk to Motee Ba.

  “I think she called for you, Motee Ba,” I apologized. “I forgot.”

  “I’ll call her back,” Motee Ba smiled. “Don’t worry.”

  I begged Jeet to help clear the dishes. I hurried over to the guest house with Tony and Becky following me. They had picked up on my excitement.

  “Spill it, Meera,” Tony said, as soon as we entered the guest house. “What did you find out?”

  “I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

  I handed over the envelope to Becky.

  “These are the people that were present at Sylvie’s when Jordan and Jessica were having their celebratory dinner. Can you think of anyone she might have missed?”

  Becky skimmed her eyes over the paper. She checked off the names I had written down one by one.

  “I don’t remember some of these. But if Sylvie wrote them down, they were there.”

  “I know that,” I cut her off. “Was there anyone she missed?”

  “Well, I was in and out of the kitchen,” Becky began.

  Her eyes had a faraway look in them. I knew she was thinking hard. Becky handled both the cooking and the serving a lot of the time. Most customers spent at least fifteen minutes in the diner, even if they were only there for coffee. So my guess was Becky would come across every customer at least once.

  “I think this accounts for most people sitting on the bar stools. But there was someone at the last table, the one close to the rest rooms. I think there were two women sitting there.”