There seemed to be only one logical explanation: The Bohemian Lake Sugar & Ice Festival’s Pie Bake-off. Clara had said the recipe was valuable. It probably was, Eve realized – in more ways than one.
Because, ultimately, it was an award‑winning recipe.
That could make it very valuable to certain people in town. But was it worth the risk of stealing it from the home of an elderly woman? That was the part that nagged at her the most. Who could, or would, do such a thing? Who would be that desperate?
Eve almost let out a quick laugh as she zipped up her coat and pulled on her boots—practical ones this time. Knowing this town, she could probably think of a half dozen people, and not even break a sweat doing it.
In some strange way, it was all starting to make sense to her. Winning the annual Bake-off was a fairly prestigious achievement around town and this year she’d heard the winner was going to receive money and a feature in some fancy magazine or rather their blog. No one really read magazines anymore, did they? There was no doubt some people were petty enough to steal recipes from one another if it gave them a competitive edge. These sorts of things happened in small towns all the time. Didn’t they?
And it certainly could have happened here in Bohemian Lake, given its overabundance of incidents the last couple of years.
Eve felt a quick chill go up her spine, a mixture of nervousness and excitement, as she realized she might be onto something. Call it intuition, a sixth sense, or whatever, but she had to admit she was inclined to believe Clara.
Eve shook her head and absently brushed back her auburn‑colored hair.
She knew what she had to do.
Penny stepped out onto the icy porch, she had to meet Wraith and Eve was about to follow when Clara laid a thin‑boned hand on her arm. “Thank you,” the elderly woman said enthusiastically. “for making an old woman’s day.”
The door was open, and she was worried about Clara catching a chill. “I’ll do my best,” Eve promised, stepping out into the cold. “I don’t know if I’ll find out anything at all,” Eve said honestly. “Just give me a few days to poke around.”
“I knew you were the right person to call.” Clara gave her a sweet smile. “Now don’t screw it up.” She said, and slammed the door shut.
Outside, a cool wind blew past Eve, tossing her hair about and carrying with it the fresh, sprinkling of snow. The chilly breeze pushed her gently along the front walkway, but the sun warmed her as she climbed into her big, black truck. She cranked up the engine, backed out of the driveway, and drove toward the center of town, her mind still occupied with thoughts of Clara, Bianca Hyena, and the missing pecan pie recipe.
It took her only a few minutes to reach the office, which housed both Private Eye Investigations and Private Ink Print. The fresh, metallic tang of ink mixed with cologne and leather washed over her as she stepped inside and peeled off her snowy layers. The walls around her desk were a rich, vibrant blue and the hardwood flooring was grey. There were black-and-white paintings of boats and nature on the walls, and the furniture in the front room was leather.
She found her boyfriend, editor and owner, Lawrence Trubble, in his office, sleeves rolled up, hair uncombed, staring intently at a computer screen, and stabbing at the keyboard as he swore softly under his breath.
“Mornin’ handsome.”
“Eve, darlin’.” He raised his bright blue eyes to Eve’s brown ones, and his smile widened before darting back to his computer screen, but he didn’t stop typing. “How’d the visit with Mrs. Hart go?” His fingers continued to move rapidly over the keys as he got his last few thoughts down before being pulled away into a conversation.
Eve was used to the maneuver. She’d seen it before. It was simply his way of multitasking.
“Interesting. I saw a lot of creepy… err… antique dolls and turns out Cocoa Barker’s famous pecan pie recipe was stuffed inside of one of them.”
“Ted’s mother—Cocoa?”
“Yep. Her recipe— which, apparently, she made specifically for Clara when they were young —was hidden inside Cocoa’s doll and then given to Clara upon her death. So, we either have a doll thief or a recipe thief around town – not sure which but I’m leaning toward recipe since we’re so close to the Pie Bake-off.” She paused and smiled at him.
Lawrence whistled. He stopped typing, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked up at her. “You think this has to do with the Bake-off? Sounds like a story, all right.”
“Could be,” Eve said, tilting her head thoughtfully to one side, “or maybe it’s just a case of a senior moment. I’m not sure which, but I’m going to check it out, see if it leads anywhere.”
He leaned forward and grabbed two pink and yellow striped coffee cups from the corner of his desk, handing one over to Eve. “Non-fat latte as per your request, madam.”
“Thank you. I’ve had enough tea today to resemble the Boston Harbor so this will be a nice little treat. Hey, what do you know about Bianca Hyena?”
“From the museum?” Lawrence made a face as if he had tasted something particularly nasty and took a sip of his own coffee. “Just the usual, I guess. She’s a native Bohemian. She still works at the historical society and she always enters the Pie Bake-off.
“You can’t possibly think it was her?”
Eve waved a hand. “Naw, it seems unlikely. You can bet your hiney I’m going to check it out, though. Apparently, she was at Clara’s to see about another doll for one of her private collectors.”
Lawrence shrugged. “She’s still doing the procuring thing, eh?” Another pause. “Is that when the doll went missing?”
Eve shook her head. “No. Bianca was there the day before, but she found that particular doll interesting and Clara thinks she saw what was in the hidden compartment.”
“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned being in the private investigation and journalism industry, it’s that anything is possible.”
“That’s for sure.” Eve indicated the computer screen as she sat on the corner of his desk. “So, how’s the next issue coming?”
He ran a hand across her thigh as his gaze returned to the glowing screen in front of him. “It’s coming. Lots of snaps from the pancake breakfast. You looked particularly steamy serving up the hot cakes and cocoa in that vintage ski suit.”
Eve felt herself melting faster than the snow on her eyelashes had. “I aim to please, sugar.” She kissed him on the forehead and jumped to her feet. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Hey!” She had just started down the hall purposefully sashaying her hips when she heard Lawrence call after her, “Are we still on for Friday night?”
She stopped, retraced her steps, and popped her head back into his office. “We are, as long as it’s something a little more upscale than Cookies & Corsets or the Gothic Inn. I do so love those places, but a girl needs fancy every once in a while. You dig?”
He grinned at her. “I’ve heard there’s a new place down the road. They actually have tablecloths. And the antipasto’s supposed to be pretty good too. I thought we might try it.”
“Mmm, I love eating table cloths. Sounds good to me.”
“Who knows,” Lawrence said as his fingers started moving over the keyboard again, “I might even spring for a napkin. Maybe even two.”
Eve laughed. “I’ll be full for days.”
As she started off again, her smile lingered. It had taken nearly ten years of flirting with Ren Trubble before he’d asked her out, but he finally had. He claimed the fact that she was married multiple times before was intimidating. Some men were such babies.
Truthfully, Eve didn’t mind that he took his time. She’d done it wrong three times before and she was ready to make number four work for good. Either that or she was adopting some cats and switching teams.
He was, in many ways, a unique man to have stayed single after Penny’s mom left, Eve thought as she walked back down the hallway toward her front desk. Most men she’d known were complet
ely incapable of being alone… or they were alcoholics—or both. Eve chuckled to herself. She was a feminist long before it was cool, uncool and then cool again. And she couldn’t fathom needy people which is why all three of her marriages had failed; well, a one of her husbands had died, but that was hardly her fault—despite what Penny said about her cooking.
FOUR
A fter checking her phone for messages, Eve revved up her snowmobile and headed down the trails for the Historical Society. The snow was really coming down again so chances were good that the museum would close early.
Since Bianca Hyena had shown interest in that doll last, she was the most logical person to speak to next, but it was not like she was about to admit she took it. No, it would be better to snoop around a little before confronting her.
And Eve just so happened to know that Bianca was not working today. Which meant she could search her office for the doll—provided she could get in and out of there undetected.
She parked around the side in the trees just off the parking lot’s trail. She was the only pedestrian in the lot, which really gave her the creeps for some reason, all she could hear were the echoing sounds of her boots crunching on the snow, and the rumbling thunder of her own ragged breath.
Then she started hearing something else. Something that sounded like footsteps—not her own. The sounds were coming from pretty far away, but every time she stopped to listen, the sounds stopped, too.
She turned around to see if anybody was there, but nobody was. Nobody that she could see, anyway. She tried to ignore the faint but persistent noises, but it was no use. She felt that someone was following her‑no, she knew that someone was following her‑and she flew into a panic only a woman alone in an empty parking lot would understand. She jogged up the front steps, slowing her pace to casual to peek in the front glass doors. Hot dang! The place was empty. She hurried inside only to hear a little bell chime as the door opened.
Snitch! She silently yelled at the little bell.
She removed her boots as fast as humanly possible and raced for the Kleenex box on the desk and wiped up the snow she’d tracked in. Then she quickened her pace for the main stairs when Sharlene Spittle’s voice rang out from the museum section, “Be right there.”
Shoot! Too good to be true. Sharlene must be manning the greeter’s desk today. That woman was nosy as an aardvark on an ant hill. There’s no way she’d let Eve wander the place in peace and no way she’d get to the second floor in time. Eve needed to find somewhere to hide and quick. There weren’t any hiding places in the lobby aside from the desk and that was surely where Sharlene was going. She turned in a slow circle. There wasn’t even a damn potted plant to hide behind and she was holding her boots like some sort of idiot. Wait! What was that?
A janitor’s closet.
She tried the door handle and thanked her lucky stars it was unlocked. There wasn’t much room to wiggle around but she found a cozy little spot next to a mop bucket and a vacuum. She eased the door shut.
This was definitely not ideal, and it left her with only one option: lure Sharlene away from her post. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and she dialed the front desk. Hopefully the janitor’s closet was far enough away that she wouldn’t be heard.
“Bohemian Lake Museum. This is Sharlene. How can I help you today?”
Eve’s mouth suddenly went as dry as the Sahara. She’d been so focused on finding a place to hide that she hadn’t even come with a plausible story to lure the woman away.
“Uhhh, yes,” Eve did her best to disguise her voice. She and Sharlene weren’t besties but they were both locals. Better to be safe than sorry. “I’m just outside in the parking lot… and my car won’t start.”
Eve shifted around and something poked her in the butt. She yelped.
“Are you alright?” Sharlene’s voice cracked as she asked.
The woman was probably salivating at the drama.
Crap. “Yeah, I just burnt myself on my engine. I was trying to get a gander at what might be wrong.”
Eve cursed her horrid lying skills. She was usually so much better at this. “You see. It’s smoking and it won’t start.”
“Right.” Her voice had that tone people tended to use when something was not their problem. “I’ll call the garage and see if we can get a tow truck out here as soon as possible to take a look at it for you.”
“No.” it was more of a screech than Eve had intended. This was not going well. She was really off her game today. “Could you just come out here and take a look at it for me… in case I’m just being silly. I’ve never been very good with automobiles.”
She face-palmed. Like Sharlene Spittle was good with them. What was she doing?
“I reeeally don’t think I would be of much heeelp.” She stretched the words out, giving them extra syllables, like she was deciding whether or not Eve was a crazed loon waiting to jump her.
Eve needed to come up with something else and fast. Quick as she could, she thought back to the parking lot. What did Sharlene drive again? A Mercedes SUV. Yes, it had been there parked near the maintenance shed. Hard to miss that bright red fire engine.
“Okay, I’m sorry to have bothered you. I think I just got it started anyway. You know, come to think of it, it was probably just smoking ‘cause I sort of banged into this cardinal-red Benz near the shed when I pulled in.”
“What?” Sharlene screeched. “Stay right there!”
Eve slumped against the wall as she heard Sharlene’s shoes clatter against the hard marble flooring. She tipped forward trying not to laugh and slammed her forehead into a mop handle. She cried out in pain, thankfully the front door’s bell had already chimed shut.
Note to self: No more broom closets.
Eve burst out of the tiny space, half tripping over the bucket, skidded up the stairs and down the second floor’s administrative hallway, stopping just shy of Bianca’s office door.
Now where would a doll thief hide something? She pivoted around taking in all of the books on the shelves. Sharlene would be back any minute now. Focus, Eve. She pulled open another drawer. Nothing besides papers to do with the museum. Hmm. It looked like Sharlene had been written up a few times. Who knew? Maybe goody two-shoes wasn’t quite so good at her job.
Eve checked the last drawer—it wasn’t large enough to fit a doll, but it could fit a recipe card. Nope. Nothing. She slammed it shut and hurried back out suddenly wondering if the museum had cameras. Oh, lord, she hoped not. Her hair was probably a mess right now.
She yanked her boots back on and hurried back down the main stairs into the empty foyer and out the front doors, ducking her head against the driving snow and practically running a stranger over in the process, as she skidded down the slippery walk
“Well, hello there?” The man said at the same time as Sharlene’s voice called from off in the distance.
Eve attempted to run away but the man grabbed her hand. There was no way she was getting caught now. She dragged him with her down the steps with her and around the corner. Her snowmobile was just over there, hidden beyond the trees if she could get to it.
He wouldn’t let go of her hand though and she couldn’t shout because Sharlene’s footsteps were getting louder. It sounded like Sharlene was on the phone with security.
The space between the building and the bushes was tighter than she expected warmth flooded her body and her stomach pitch sideways as the man squeezed in closer to her to remain out of sight. Somehow, she was still holding his hand. She dropped it. The front door’s bell chimed, and she felt sure that Sharlene had now gone back inside. The man shifted behind her.
“What the hell?”
Eve twisted her arm backward and jammed her fingers across his lips. She wanted to make sure the bell hadn’t been a trick—it was certainly something she would have done. Her mind might have been playing tricks on her, but she swore she felt his lips curve into a smile. The heat in her stomach moved up into her face. This was going to be incredib
ly awkward to explain to Ren later. With the strange man’s chest pressed against hers, she could feel every breath he took. She couldn’t have waited more than ten seconds before she relaxed enough to work her way out from of the narrow space. The man reached forward and picked a piece of snow out of her collar. His mouth quirked a little, but she didn’t know him at all to figure out whether he was amused or ready to haul her back inside to tattle.
“Want to tell me what that was about now?”
Eve chewed on her lip. “Not really.” When he didn’t walk away, she relented and said, “It’s a long story.”
He made a go on gesture with his hand. For the first time it hit her that what she’d done could be considered breaking and entering, even though she thought of it as harmless snooping. All the heat drained from her body, and the words shot out of her.
“I just needed to get inside one of the offices to have a look for something.” She freed her hand and straightened her shoulders. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“No.” Now he definitely looked half annoyed, half amused. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“No.” She retorted.
“Well, you should get out of here and I’ll go inside and distract the woman.”
“You’re going to cover for me,” she liked the sound of that, but part of her – the smarter part – was flashing sirens and warning lights. Why would this strange man help her? “But you don’t even know me? I could be a criminal you know. I could be a dangerous lunatic,”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you are. Now get out of here before the cops arrive.”
Eve took off across the parking lot to the path that led to her snowmobile. Now she just had to hope the damn thing would start.
FIVE
E ve was still running the strange situation with the man at the museum through her mind when she pulled into the last open parking spot on Main Street, got out, and walked into Cookies & Corsets.
It wasn’t yet noon, but the tables were full, and the line at the register was long, and quickly growing longer. It seemed that everybody in Bohemian Lake-locals and guests-liked to meet and eat at the vintage clothing café, even during a snowstorm.
Nuttier Than Pecan Pie Page 3