* * *
“Bert, good morning,” Andie beamed as she answered the knock at the kitchen’s back door. The owner of Pies and Pages stood there with her arms filled with a tall stack of Tupperware containers with the pre-prepared pies inside.
“Morning, coming through,” she sounded off, pushing into the kitchen and frantically looking for a place to set the containers. She’d clearly tried to carry too many in a single trip and was faltering under the encumbrance.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Andie chimed, not realizing how much her friend was struggling.
“Where can I set these?” she pleaded.
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. Right there on the counter.” Andie motioned to the clear space on the pockmarked metal surface.
Almost hobbling at that point, Bert waddled over and slid the pies off. Making sure they were settled safely, she let out a sigh of relief.
“Sheesh, you’d think I could be a better help rather than just standing here like a goon wishing you a happy Thanksgiving,” Andie fretted, scolding herself.
Bert smiled widely and looked at her friend. “And a happy Thanksgiving to you as well.”
“You always were very forgiving.”
Bert laughed delightedly. To her, the heavy load of the pies was a minor thing. It was one of her absolute favorite holidays, and one tiny mishap wasn’t going to ruin that. “I’m not the kind of person to hold a grudge, it’s true. Especially over something as silly as you not helping me carry the pies.”
“Still. You were always the most charitable and helpful person in the congregation,” she admitted. At one point a few years back, the two ladies had attended the same church. It was actually how Bert had learned about the soup kitchen and began volunteering. The congregation sometimes even all volunteered together, but not as often recently.
“Speaking of church, why don’t I see you there anymore on Sundays?”
Shutting the door to keep out the cold blustering winds, Andie gave a little shrug. “I’m pretty busy these days.”
Bert nodded. “Believe me, I understand.”
“I know it’s where a lot of people go for help—emotionally, spiritually, that sort of thing. But, I had a hard time seeing all of those friends who were suffering or going through hard times. I just can’t stand to see anyone suffer and not be able to do anything about it.”
“Well, you do work at a soup kitchen, you know?” Bert stepped back up to the doorway.
“I know, but at least I’m doing something useful here.”
“Is that why you catch rats and release them back into the wild?” she teased, not wanting to make her friend feel uncomfortable in any way, especially on Thanksgiving.
Andie’s smile returned. “I know they can have a happy existence outside, so I give it to them. If I thought I couldn’t help them, I’d just use poison like everyone else, I guess.”
“It also helps to know that they’re not in your walls anymore,” Bert laughed out loud.
“Definitely,” she said, her smile widening. “What can I help you with?”
“I still have a few more stacks of pies outside in the car, if you don’t mind helping.”
“I’d love to. Shiv can help us, too.”
Bert glanced around with a curious eye. “Shiv is here too? I didn’t see her.”
“She’s out front decorating the dining room. We want everything to feel festive for the men, women, and families who come in here today. Of course, I had to buy all the decorations with my own money. There was no way I could use our measly budget on it. We can barely afford any sort of worthwhile food to give them.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Bert agreed, walking toward the dining room.
“I’m telling you, Bert. Those pies are really going to make a big difference in today’s meal,” Andie added as she followed her friend.
“I’m just glad to help in any way I can,” she admitted. Passing the serving counter, she spotted the young woman standing on a step ladder in the corner. She was hanging a red, orange, and brown garland that was embellished with happy looking cartoon turkeys.
“Morning, Shiv,” Bert called to her.
Turning around, the young woman beamed. There was just something about Thanksgiving that brought out the glow in people. Bert hoped to see that look on many faces that day.
“Bert, you’re here early.”
“I said I was going to bake the pies in the ovens here, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Maybe you can help decorate a little too,” she added.
“I think that sounds great, but first, do you mind helping Andie and I bring the pies in from the car?”
Pinning up the end of the garland, Shiv climbed down. “I’m all hands. Besides, I better get used to handling pies if I’m going to be working for you,” she joked.
“Oh, you didn’t tell me this, Bert. Are you stealing away one of my best volunteers?” Andie chimed in, clearly thrilled to have Shiv finally getting a job.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to do it to you,” Bert answered.
“Hey, I love to volunteer, but I’ve gotta pay bills, too,” Shiv added.
“Believe me, I’m happy for you, dear. It’s about time you found some work, and you couldn’t pick a better employer.”
Bert shook her head and rolled her eyes at her friend’s flattery. “Shall we grab those pies?”
“Let’s,” Andie agreed.
Bert took the lead, heading past the counter and into the kitchen. Opening the back door, she allowed the two ladies through and then walked out herself. “There are just a few more stacks,” she said, digging into her pocket for her keys. For a moment, they got stuck on something and Bert was forced to give them a good yank.
Coming free from her pocket, a few quarters and a couple dollar bills went wild. The change rolled along the ground, and the bills floated in the chilly November breeze. “Oh, darn,” she grumbled. She hit the button to unlock the car. It beeped indicating it was open. “Go ahead and start grabbing the pies while I pick up this money.”
“Got it,” Shiv noted.
Bert grabbed most of the bills, and even the quarters, before they got too far. However, one bill had continued its path across the alleyway, forcing Bert to make chase. Another gust came up, tossing the bill about with a handful of autumn leaves. “Oh, poo,” she complained, watching it float up above her head and then come back down.
As she watched it land among a pile of garbage bags, she stopped cold. For a second, she didn’t believe her eyes, and thought it had to be a trick of the light against the sacks. However, she quickly realized it was no trick.
There, among the bags, was another man in tattered clothing—clearly homeless. The front of his shirt was tainted with blood and holes revealed stab wounds underneath.
He clutched a crushed micro-camera in his right hand.
“Oh, dear,” she muttered.
CHAPTER 6
* * *
“So, what do you think this time, Detective? Is this just another random homeless death?” Bert spoke in an accusatory and scathing tone upon seeing the trench coat wearing man enter the dining area through the kitchen. She didn’t mean to be so harsh, or so forward, but something about finding two dead men in back alleyways in as little as two days had that strange effect on her.
As soon as the remark had slipped out between her lips, she wished she could slurp it back in.
As the lines in Detective Mannor’s face deepened from serious to angry, Bert could feel her own cheeks growing red hot with embarrassment. She felt for sure that he would slap her with some sort of minor violation this time. She’d had her fair share of tense encounters with the detective, and had stood to be fined on multiple other occasions where she’d found herself in the middle of an investigation.
“Officer, she didn’t mean that. She’s just a little shaken up after finding that poor man in the alleyway, is all,” Andie jumped in, hoping to defuse the situation.
The pinc
hed look at the corners of his eyes didn’t subside, but it was clear he was biting his tongue. “Mrs. Hannah, if you’d prefer to handle this investigation on your own,” he said in an even voice through a heavy sigh.
She put up both hands and waved them defensively. “No, no, my apologies. Andie is right. I’m just a little overwhelmed is all. You’re the professional here.” She diverted to his judgment, hoping her brief lapse of tongue wouldn’t cost her too dearly.
“Good. I’m glad you see it that way.”
Andie stood up from the table with her cup of coffee in hand, the steam rising to greet her face. “So, Detective, is it true? Was that poor man really murdered?”
Looking down at his feet, his hands firmly on his hips, he let out a low grunt. “I’m afraid so.”
Slowly sinking back into her chair, not unlike a balloon that had sprung a small leak, Andie turned deathly pale. “Oh, dear. I had hoped it was all a mistake.”
“There isn’t much to mistake here, Mrs.?”
“Andie Right.”
“Mrs. Right. This man was clearly stabbed to death. I can guarantee it was murder.”
“Do you think his death has anything to do with all of the recent poisonings of local homeless people?” Bert asked before she could stop the curiosity from slipping out.
Mannor shot a glare her direction, his eyes nearly disappearing behind strained eyelids.
Why couldn’t she just keep her darn mouth shut?
“Where did you hear that?” he asked through his teeth, his breath whistling slightly with each word.
Why did she have the feeling that this wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge?
“Sorry, it was in the newspaper yesterday morning,” she admitted.
“Dang those reporters,” he snapped, more to himself than anyone else.
“Wait, wait. Are you saying that there has been a series of these homeless murders?” Andie exclaimed, sitting up straight in her chair.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” he sniffed, not liking how this conversation was going. Clearly, he had come in intending to be the one asking the questions. In his usual manner, he’d interrogate the ladies, get the information he wanted, and send them on their way. It was the same series of events that always played out, at least in Bert’s experience with the man.
He was older, stuck in his ways, and had a very specific method for going about a homicide investigation.
However, ever since Bert had shown up, it had thrown a wrench in his works.
She could tell he was getting tired of it.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Bert butted in, unable to help herself. She was a woman who liked organization and safety. If she had the ability, she always was looking to help. Sometimes, that made her seem like a busybody.
“Excuse me?”
“It was in the paper, which means somebody told the reporters about your ongoing investigation.” She left out the part where she had suspected the detective was up to something even before the story was released.
Mannor set his jaw, the muscles tensing uncomfortably. “Someone obviously blabbed,” he muttered.
“So, it might be connected,” she affirmed.
“Mrs. Hannah,” he sneered quietly.
“And what about that broken camera he was holding?” She continued on, asking questions. Her confidence, and her need to figure things out, had kicked into high gear and overtaken her worry about the detective’s reaction.
“That was a camera? But it was so small,” Andie exclaimed.
“Enough. No more questions,” Detective Mannor barked.
The women fell into silence, staring down into their respective cups of coffee. Shiv, on the other hand, looked hardly phased at all.
“If anyone is going to be asking any questions, it’s me. Do we understand each other?” he demanded, passing his eyes from one woman to the next.
Clearly, this whole series of murders had been a lot to handle already for the detective. He was at his wit’s end, and the last thing he needed was a couple of nosy women making unnecessary inquiries into his work.
“Do we understand?” he reiterated.
Both women nodded.
“Okay, then. Let’s get on with this.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
Bert clenched her jaw, trying not to reply with another foolish insult like before. She didn’t like being yelled at or put down—and she rarely stood for that sort of treatment. In this case, however, she was quiet. After all, she had stepped outside her bounds by asking so many prying questions into the detective’s homicide case.
Clearly, he had tried to keep this information from her the other day because he was afraid of something exactly like this happening.
Bert couldn’t help herself sometimes. Not to mention, her friend Andie was very upset by this whole ordeal, and Bert wanted to help her feel as comfortable as possible. The idea that someone was stabbed to death right behind your place of work wasn’t exactly the coziest thing in the world.
“Now, then,” the detective cleared his throat, looking over the trio of women sitting at the table sipping coffee. When he’d arrived with his team of officers, he had instructed them to sit in the dining area and not move from it. The room was half-decorated with the colors of autumn. Streamers went partway around the walls, but then hung sadly to the floor partway through. A pile of other paper and cardboard items sat in a pile at the end of one of the long tables. These were all whispers and hints of the upcoming Thanksgiving dinner that same evening. Bert wondered if the detective was going to shut them down and cancel the whole event.
If he did that, she wasn’t sure she could restrain her tongue.
Mannor’s eyes fell on Shiv like he was seeing her for the first time, his head tilting in curiosity. His face visibly softened to a point that he almost looked like he could be someone’s grandpa. “I apologize for my outburst, young lady.”
His sudden change of attitude, and the chime in his voice, was shocking. Bert looked from the detective, to Shiv, and back at the detective again. What did this mean?
He was being civil, even kind, to the young woman.
“That’s alright. I understand,” Shiv finally answered with a little unsure nod.
Pulling his usual handy-dandy notepad from his pocket, the detective flipped the pages back open. The little leather pad looked worn to death, like it had lived the last ten years in that pocket. It was the kind that had refillable pages, but it looked like it was time to replace the pad itself as well. “Do you mind telling me your name?”
The young woman sat up straight as she answered him in a proper and respectful voice. “Shiv Hart.”
He poised his pen, ready to write it down, but paused. “Do you mind spelling that for me?”
“First name, S-H-I-V. Last name, H-A-R-T.”
Mannor scribbled the name down. “Okay. Thank you.”
Bert strained to think of any other time she remembered the detective saying thank you for something and actually meaning it. She came up blank.
“And you said your name is Andie Right?”
“Correct, and it’s spelled A-N-D-I-E.”
“And the last name’s with a W?”
“No, without.”
He wrote it down. “And what is your business here at the soup kitchen today?”
Andie’s mouth quivered slightly, her jaw moving up and down, as she tried to formulate words. “I-I’m the director here.”
“I see.”
“Detective, you don’t think that I or either of these ladies had anything to do with this, do you?” she gasped weakly, placing one hand on Bert and Shiv’s arms, respectively.
He raised an eyebrow, wondering if this woman was going to cause him any trouble like Bert always seemed to. “No, ma’am. I’m just asking some preliminary questions at the moment.”
“Oh, I see.”
“And you, ma’am?” he asked, looking at Shiv.
“M-Me? What
about me?”
“Do you work here as well?”
“She’s one of my volunteers,” Andie chimed in.
Mannor looked at the director with a squint of his eye. “I was asking the young lady.”
“Sorry.”
“She’s correct. I am a volunteer here,” Shiv confirmed the information.
“And one of my absolute best,” Andie replied, patting the girl’s hand.
“I’ve been coming here every day for the past year, helping out while I look for work.”
Mannor smiled. “That’s very admirable.” His eyes, suddenly growing slim with irritation again, turned on Bert. “And what are you doing here this time?”
Bert bit her lower lip to keep from blurting out a rude remark. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. “I’m a volunteer as well. I’m making all the pies for this year’s dinner.”
“Dinner?” He tapped his pen on the pad.
Andie jumped in to answer this time. “That’s right. It’s Thanksgiving Day after all. We always have a special dinner for anyone in need. It’s an annual tradition, you see.”
Mannor gave a brief nod and a grunt in reply. “I see.” He was staring down at his notepad, screwing up his face with thought.
Bert didn’t like that look. It seemed to her that maybe he was planning on shutting them down temporarily.
“Now, you were here earliest this morning?” he looked at Andie.
“Yes. I wanted to be here bright and early to help get things set up for this evening.”
“I see. And what time was that?”
“Just around six.”
“And which way did you come in?” He motioned with his pen from the front door to the back.
“The back door, from the alley. I always come in that way.”
After scribbling this down, Mannor looked her closely in the eye. “And was there a body out there then?”
“Of course, not. Not that I saw anyway.”
“Detective, it appeared the body was shoved behind the dumpster. She could have easily missed it. I know I did at first,” Bert commented.
Killer Thanksgiving Pie Page 3