Nuttier Than Pecan Pie

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Hey Mal.”

  Nana turned to look at her. “Well, hello to you, too, Eve.”

  “Sorry, Nana. Hello. I’m a bit frazzled this week. Hey, Mal.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I’m glad I ran into you. I have a question for you about Bianca Hyena.”

  At the mention of Bianca’s name, Mal’s face saddened.

  “I need to know which pie was hers for sure.”

  Mal paused to think for a moment. “The pecan.”

  “Well, I know that. Which pecan. There were two.”

  Mallory stiffened as she recalled the incident. “Oh. I’m not sure. I never got to taste them. I’d be happy to look it up for you when I get back to the Manor.”

  “Great. Just text me whether it was the raisin or the bacon.” Eve said.

  Mallory nodded her head.

  “By the way, did anyone ever comment on Clara’s fall? Like, did anyone notice anything suspicious.”

  “I honestly have no idea what you mean.”

  “We found something in her tox screen.”

  “Oh my gosh. You think someone poisoned her at our event? Oh, how awful. Here, I thought we were being so cautious with the samples that day. I can’t believe that—” – she blinked several times – “I feel so bad. I should go apologize.”

  “No, no, don’t do that. It could have happened earlier. To be honest, we really don’t know. Rebel and I couldn’t figure out how it would have taken such an immediate effect. I just thought I’d ask if anyone had mentioned seeing anything or anyone hovering around her.”

  TWENTY FOUR

  E ve’s cell phone chimed with a message alert the moment she left the lumberjack contest. She finagled it out of her coat pocket as she trotted down the street. Low and behold, it was from Sharlene Spittle, herself.

  She’d finally responded to the text Eve had sent after her meeting with Bianca. Oh, why had she sent that. How stupid? She might as well have painted a target across both her and Bianca’s back.

  Eve read the message again, her eyes lingering on the last few words: Yes, I have the recipe. I’m at the office working today until 2:30. Swing by and I’ll show you.

  Holy cow. Did she really just admit to everything over text? This had to be a trick.

  Eve checked the time on her phone. It was a few minutes before two o’clock. She flipped the phone closed and slid it into the front pocket of her jeans. If she wanted to make it out to the Museum in time, she’d have to hurry.

  Now that the Lumberjack competition had started, the area was jammed with people and the surrounding streets were shut down. Her truck was packed in on Main street like a sardine in a tin. She could hear the whir of the chainsaws starting up.

  She quickened her pace, away from the park and on a sudden impulse she reached into her pocket for the phone and called Juniper. “Hey! Where are you two?”

  “We’re back at the Inn. It was just getting way too crowded down there for Clara.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s like the town’s never seen a bearded man in plaid wielding a chainsaw before. Anyway, I need a lift out to the museum.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’ll meet you at the Inn.”

  A short time later, feeling a bit bedraggled after fighting her way through the crowd, she saw Juniper standing beside her Spirited Construction work truck in the Inn’s driveway, and waved. There was a back way out of the Inn so they could avoid the main town traffic.

  Clara was sitting in the backseat, all bundled up. When she saw Eve, the elderly woman waved with her fingers and smiled weakly.

  Eve opened the passenger door and climbed in.

  Juniper flashed a wave at the elderly woman as she scooted around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Junie started up the truck and drove out the back exit. “So, what’s all this about?”

  “Well. I’m off to see Sharlene at the Historical Society about stealing your recipe.”

  “What?” Clara swore, or at least Eve thought so. It was definitely not a word she recognized so probably some sort of fancy 18th-century curse word. “How dare she? That thief!” Clara ranted on.

  “Well, let’s just wait and see what she has to say before we bring out the pitchforks. This is all according to Bianca Hyena.”

  “What is according to her?” Junie asked.

  “Long story short. Bianca accused Sharlene of stealing Clara’s doll based on the fact that she was the one who entered Cocoa’s pie in the contest.”

  “Oh, my goodness.”

  “According to my brother…”

  “The one on the lam?” Juniper asked.

  “He sounds very reliable.” Clara mumbled.

  “Yep. Bubba. Mabe called him ‘cause she was worried I was in over my head. Anyway, according to him, Sharlene was trying to get Bianca Hyena fired. So, I don’t really know which of them is telling the truth, but I’m going to attempt to get to the bottom of it—hopefully with limited bloodshed.”

  Ten minutes later they turned into the plowed driveway that led to the historical society. Eve spotted Sharlene sitting in her red Mercedes-Benz which was parked in front of the maintenance shed. She chuckled to herself as she thought of the other day. Sharlene’s panicked shout at the thought of her precious baby getting hit.

  Juniper pulled the truck to a halt beside Sharlene’s vehicle and turned toward her friend. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you two stay in the car,” she told Juniper.

  “But this could be dangerous. Look what happened to Bianca.”

  “She’s not gonna hurt me with you two right here. Besides, I can take her. Just sit tight and let me talk to her.”

  “Well, okay.” Juniper sounded uncertain as she looked over. “Just be careful. Whatever you do, don’t turn your back on her. I don’t trust her.”

  “Neither do I,” Eve said as she opened her purse, and showed them a hammer. “That’s why I got this.”

  “Hey! Where did you get that? That’s mine.”

  “I know. I almost sat on it.” She said as she opened the passenger‑side door and climbed out.

  She found Sharlene in the driver’s seat.

  “Hello, Sharlene,” Eve said as she walked up to the vehicle. Sharlene had rolled her window down.

  Sharlene turned, surveying her imperiously. “You’re late.”

  “Yeah, I know Bohemian Lake’s a circus right now.”

  “I was just about to leave.”

  “Well, I’m here now. So, what’s this all about?”

  Sharlene sat with her body tense and her lips tightly pursed, displaying her disapproval at having been kept waiting. When she thought she had sufficiently communicated that fact, she nodded just slightly. “I’ll show you. Get in.”

  Eve did as she said, walking around the other side. As soon as she’d shut the passenger side door, Sharlene reached across Eve in the passenger seat, and pulled a manila envelope out of the glove box, which she opened.

  Eve knew right away what it was, and she couldn’t help gasping. “That’s the original recipe, isn’t it?”

  Eve sat up straight as her gaze narrowed on Sharlene. “Where did you get this?”

  Sharlene squared her shoulders proudly. “I found it in Bianca Hyena’s office.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  W hat was it with these two pointing fingers at one another? It made no sense. If Bianca had stolen the recipe, why had Sharlene been the one to use it?

  And who had killed Bianca?

  Eve shook her head, staring down at the recipe. Her gaze was drawn to the upper left‑hand corner of the page. It looked like Cocoa had scribbled a note there—something about peanut butter. She leaned forward again, her eyes squinting so she could see a little clearer.

  Sharlene broke into her reverie. “So, I guess now we have the proof that Bianca was the thief.”

  Eve looked up and tapped at the recipe with her index finger. “So, then, why were you the one to use it
to create your pie for the Bake-off?”

  “What?” Sharlene gave Eve an offended look. “I did no such thing.”

  Eve stiffened as something clicked inside her, and a long‑suppressed knot of irritation suddenly unraveled. She could hold it back no longer as she straightened and turned to face the woman. “Sharlene, what was it you had against Bianca?” she asked angrily.

  The smugness abruptly disappeared from Sharlene’s face. “What are you talking about?”

  “I mean, come on, you attempted to get her fired and now you’re trying to frame her after she’s dead? That’s low.”

  Sharlene’s face settled into a cold mask. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “You’ve been after Bianca for a while, haven’t you, like a dog nipping at her heels. Why, I don’t know. Maybe you wanted her job.”

  There was silence for a few moments. When Sharlene responded, her tone was icy. “If you must know, yes, I thought the woman was incompetent, and I let her, and others know it. The archives were a mess.”

  “So, you reported her.”

  “Of course, I did. Someone had to know what was going on around that place.”

  “You sent a letter to the board, which got Bianca in hot water.”

  “I was just trying to improve the archives.”

  “You were trying to get her fired.”

  “I was tired of her abusing her power.”

  “Well, I suppose she confronted you.”

  Sharlene nodded, her face still hard. “Something like that.”

  “So, you created an enemy.”

  “I have plenty of enemies. What’s another one?”

  “I don’t know but I find it awfully coincidental that she was killed with an ice sculpting tool. Tell me, Sharlene, did your son enter this year’s competition?”

  “How dare you accuse my baby of murder!”

  “Your baby is over six feet tall and I believe has a record for violence.”

  “That was a silly bar fight. He was defending someone.” She stuffed the document back into its envelope. “Pretend you never saw this.”

  “I can’t.” Eve was surprised to find herself strangely calm. “You stole Clara’s doll that hid that recipe and you baked the pie at the fair which proves it. I’m not letting you get away with this.”

  Sharlene looked at her blankly. “Did you just suggest I used this recipe to bake a pie?”

  Eve pointed at the manila envelope in Sharlene’s hands. “Yes. Newsflash. Everyone knows you baked that pie.”

  “I did no such thing. I entered a raisin pecan pie.”

  “What? No, Bianca Hyena said she entered the raisin pie.”

  Sharlene’s face grew tight. “Well, of course, she would say that. She’s been trying to frame me to get back at me. Why would I steal a recipe and then flaunt it somewhere it would be judged by the whole town? It’s an award-winning recipe for heaven’s sake. What kind of idiot would do something like that?”

  “True,” Bianca had brought up that point that herself, “but that makes it Bianca’s word against yours and she’s dead now. So, tell me, Sharlene, who looks guiltier?”

  Sharlene started to cry. “God. Fine, I’ll tell you the truth. I can prove the raisin pie was mine.”

  “How?”

  “Because I cheated. Okay! I never baked it, are you happy now? I bought it from a bakeshop outside of Bohemian Lake. I have the receipt and you can check with the bakery. They know me in there. I never bake any of the things I bring to the bake sales.”

  The words hung between them, and Sharlene looked as if she wanted to take it all back. Maybe she was wondering if being booked for murder was better than admitting to being a bad homemaker.

  After an awkward moment, Eve cleared her throat. “Can I see the recipe again?”

  Sharlene handed it over to Eve. “Thank you. And in my opinion, it’s better to be a fraud then a murderer, although not much better,” Eve said, trying not to laugh. “Anyhoo, I will need to see that receipt and I’m sure the BLPD will want to check out your story… right after I show them this.”

  For an instant, a look of fear crossed Sharlene’s eyes. “No. Please. You can’t tell them I’m a fraud. They’ll tell everyone. I-I’ll be a laughing stock.”

  “Well, Charlie.”

  “It’s Sharlene.”

  “Sorry, Charlie. That doesn’t change the situation. Anyway, I think it’s about time you had a slice of humble pie.”

  And with that, Eve opened the passenger side door and marched back to Juniper’s truck, with Clara’s recipe clutched tightly in her hand.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “O

  h, boy, the snow is really coming down now,” Eve said as they headed back to town.

  Quite abruptly, Clara leaned forward. “Well, did she say where we could find Daulene Diana?”

  Eve glanced back over her shoulder at the elderly woman. “No, Clara, I’m sorry. Just the recipe. She said she found it in Bianca’s office, so I’ll make sure Cody has a look for it there.”

  “Okay, dear,” Clara said, settling back into her seat, “you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

  Eve looked back at the elderly woman in the backseat waiting for the insult, but it never came. Hmm. Maybe Clara was tempering her barbed tongue, “Yes, well, it does seem that Bianca had the recipe and she used it to try to set up Sharlene, but she certainly didn’t stab herself, so we haven’t solved the mystery yet.”

  Clara looked pleased with this revelation. “It should be simple to find the doll now, shouldn’t it? It’s either at her house or somewhere out at the museum, where she works. Don’t you think?”

  Eve nodded as Junie made a right‑hand turn onto Clara’s road. “Yes, that’s probably right.”

  “So, Bianca Hyena’s the one who made Cocoa’s pie at the Bake-off, then?”

  “Yes, that’s what it sounds like. She made it but tried to frame Sharlene. She was setting her up to take the fall.”

  Clara was silent for a moment, considering the matter. As always, she held her purse in her lap, tightly clutching the handle with two hands. “Such violence,” Clara said finally. “Over a silly baking competition?”

  “Yes, that’s what makes me think there’s more to it,” Eve admitted.

  Clara said nothing else the rest of the way. A few minutes later they pulled into Clara’s driveway and Eve and Juniper helped her into the house. She’d insisted on returning to her own home for the night.

  Eve was just switching the kettle on to make them all tea when Clara came in the room carrying a white mink fur coat.

  “What’s that?”

  “It was my mother’s, dear. You were shivering so much on the way over that I wanted you to have it.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet, Clara, thank you but I’m warm enough now.”

  “Yes, I know but that teeny tiny inappropriate slip of a thing you call a coat just isn’t practical for this polar vortex weather were having. I insist you take my mother’s coat as a gift in appreciation for helping me to look for Daulene.”

  Eve tilted her head, unsure if Clara was thanking her or insulting her taste in wardrobe.

  The little old woman smiled and placed the coat gently over Eve’s shoulders.

  It was warm and soft. Eve slipped her arms inside and pushed up the collar. “You know, I quite like it.” She said, doing a little catwalk turn just as Juniper returned from using the restroom.

  “Whoa, who ordered the mob wife?”

  Eve smirked, “It’s nice, right? It belonged to Clara’s mother. She’s giving it to me.”

  “There’s nothing like old money,” Juniper said with a wink. “Are you sure you want to give away something so valuable—and of your mother’s—though, Clara.”

  “Oh yes, I never liked my mother. She had hideous taste.”

  Juniper shot a glance at Eve who was doing her best not to be offended.

  “Anyway,” Eve cleared her throat. “I accept and thank y
ou. It will match my white fur hat.”

  “Yes, just stay away from those animal rights activists on the outside of town—you know, the ones who are always protesting the zoo.” Juniper added.

  “For sure. The only thing I like painted red… is the town.”

  “And your lips, dear. You do love your red lipstick… just like a street—”

  “Yes, thank you, Clara,” Eve said, cutting the old woman off, “You’re right. I do occasionally like red lips. Anyway, is there anything you can think of that might help me track down Daulene?”

  “Hmm. Well, not really but there is something else I’m reminded of now that I’m looking at the recipe. Ted blamed the contest for his mother’s death.”

  “What?” Eve shifted her body, so she faced Clara. “The contest? Why did Ted blame the contest for his mother’s death?” Eve asked, pressing her.

  “I don’t really know. I just chalked it up to his grief. About a month after her death he just started to obsess, saying that the pie killed her,” Clara said with a shake of her head. “Gwen was worried about him. He had all these secret notebooks and files. He stopped paying attention to the newspaper altogether. So much so that she had to run it—and she was not a business-minded girl. But it was like he was trying to win a Pulitzer or something—solving some sort of big mystery. Of course, he was just grieving. I mean, Cocoa worked hard perfecting that pie but that’s certainly never killed anyone.”

  “You said Gwen got rid of everything when he died, right?” Eve asked, her interest piqued.

  Clara gave her a curious look. “She did.”

  “Do you know what happened to his files?”

  “I think she donated anything research, book or paper related to the museum.”

  “Why...” Juniper turned toward Eve, her face scrunched up in thought. “What are you thinking?”

  Eve drew a long face as she considered the question. “I’m not sure.”

  She could feel her heart beginning to beat faster. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

  Juniper was studying her carefully. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  Eve looked up at her young friend. “I have to go.”