Pies & Peril

by Janel Gradowski

  Amy retrieved the stack of small, square aluminum pans from the freezer. She taped recipe cards with reheating instructions on each one. Kevin was a man, who was also shook up by the sudden loss of his wife. Just providing one set of directions for half a dozen casseroles was a recipe for disaster. He would lose the instructions then probably end up complaining about how bad her cooking was because he didn't bake them properly. She plunked the frost covered containers into a disposable foam cooler along with a couple plastic bags filled with ice cubes. That was another thing. An unexpectedly, newly single man most likely wouldn't think to return things like dishes or ice packs. So she made sure everything was disposable. Geesh, she had barely said two words to the man and had already convinced herself she didn't like him.

  When Amy walked through the door of Pierce Accounting half an hour later, she was positive she didn't like him. Judging from the earlier phone conversation, Kevin was more into appearances than skills. The painfully informal receptionist looked like she had stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Long dark hair, stunning blue eyes and disgustingly thin, despite munching on half a dozen sliders which she pulled out of a greasy bag printed with the Louie's Hamburgers logo. The small restaurant was somewhere between a dump and a dive, but was legendary for its tiny slider hamburgers. Amy avoided eating there because the onion covered gut bombs always left her with a case of heartburn that threatened to sear through her stomach wall. So Lucy, according to the small tent sign on the desk, clearly had an iron stomach and the metabolism of a cheetah.

  Lucy talked on her cell phone in between licking grease off her fingers. The waiting room was so small Amy couldn't help but eavesdrop. Not that the oblivious woman seemed to care. The receptionist had just pointed at one of the sleek, black chairs in the reception area when Amy walked into the room. Apparently a customer was too much of a bother to interrupt the call. Pantomimed instructions to have a seat were sufficient for Kevin's receptionist. No speech needed.

  "Tired of the games…glad it's all over…no more sneaking around."

  Amy stared at the solitaire app on her phone's screen, trying to conceal her nosiness. It sounded like Lucy was having an affair. What man wouldn't want to play find the sausage under the sheets with the beautiful, raven haired stick woman? Amy glanced up at the sound of a door opening. Kevin walked out of his office. His expression turned from a polite, business-like smile to a scowl. He glanced at Lucy, who had quickly signed off from her call, and his expression softened. She smiled and coquettishly tilted her head. The distraction worked. He now looked like a slobbery, overzealous puppy. "Kevin, I am so sorry for your loss," Amy said as she stood.

  Her voice broke the weird voodoo spell Lucy seemed to have over her boss. He returned his gaze to Amy, and the unpleasant grimace reappeared. Was it because she interrupted his ogling session or something else that had turned him into a grumpy pants?

  "Thank you."

  She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. He had certainly been more talkative at Mandy Jo's funeral. Amy picked up the cooler, "I made some baked ziti for you. Much better than frozen dinners from the store, I assure you."

  "My refrigerator is packed with meals. The women from St. Peter's Church keep bringing me stuff."

  Amy tapped the lid of the Styrofoam cooler. "That's why I froze the meals I made. You can keep them for a few months. If you do want to save them for awhile, I'd suggest getting them into a freezer again soon. Hopefully you have one here in your office."

  He sighed and apparently decided to challenge her to a stare-off. How rude. She wanted to play a different game, like tell me your alibi.

  "It was such a shock for me to find Mandy Jo. Do you have any idea why somebody would be so…drastic?"

  Kevin snorted. "You know what she was like. She's pissed off a lot of people, but I never thought someone would resort to murder as retaliation. The last time I saw her she was actually in a really good mood. She had worked all day making a pie, and she was positive it would beat anything you brought to the contest."

  The man wasn't physically imposing. In fact, he was rather short, scrawny in the muscle category and had a rather geeky haircut, but he certainly wasn't afraid of issuing a verbal middle finger salute. A slightly mellower version of his deceased wife. No wonder they got married. Luckily Amy had plenty of experience in deflecting word bombs. In some competitions, other people employed nasty comments and insults to fluster challengers. Developing mental toughness was a necessity. She smiled and said, "Since she won so many of the pie contests, I want to do something to remember her. I'm collecting money for a small memorial at the park downtown."

  He just stared at her, so Amy continued. "Can you think of anybody she'd had a disagreement with lately?"

  "You, at the Fourth of July parade."

  Was he insinuating that she could've killed Mandy Jo? He had blasted past rude and slammed into downright obnoxious territory. "Mandy Jo and I obviously didn't get along, but I let my baked goods do the talking in the Summer Festival competitions."

  "Really? Some people can't stand being defeated and will do anything to win."

  * * *

  Carla groaned as she stretched out on the couch. She had been sound asleep when Amy called, wound up about some kind of new development. Considering the message her friend had left on her voicemail the previous evening about another threat arriving via a rock, of all things, she couldn't blow her off in favor of sleep. Amy hardly ever came to the condo, preferring to chat in her own kitchen, but she was on her way over. It was like cooking was now so ingrained in her life that it had become both therapy and a part of her social life. Hopefully she didn't need to cook to get her thoughts in order. There was not much more than ramen noodles and instant oatmeal packets in the cupboards. Take-out containers scattered among beer and wine bottles lived in the refrigerator. She and Amy were polar opposites in so many ways, yet they were still best friends.

  The doorbell woke her up again. She had closed her tired eyes, since there was nothing interesting to look at except the old brick wall at the end of the couch. The little catnap didn't help. It had been a hectic night in the emergency room, and her body was begging for a solid, six hours of sleep. Amy rushed into the entryway the moment Carla cracked open the door. A paper coffee cup was in one hand, a bag stamped with Riverbend Coffee's logo in the other.

  "I brought you a caramel latte and a sticky bun."

  Amy had sounded like a frazzled mess on the phone, but she still thought to bring coffee and sweet treats to help Carla stay awake. The later it got, the more the adrenaline from work wore off and she needed help from some food fuel to keep functioning, or at least functioning logically. "Thanks. Didn't you get something for yourself?"

  "No. I'm serious about losing weight. Riverbend didn't have any low-fat baked goods, not that diet food has any place in a legitimate bakery or coffee shop anyway. I mean, you're supposed to indulge in full-fat, sugar-filled treats at those places. My sexy curves are developing rolling hills and cellulite potholes."

  "You look fine, but let me know if you want to come to the health club with me sometime." Carla took a sip of the silky, sweet latte. "They have an awesome steam room to relax in after you burn off the effects of a few scones on the elliptical machine."

  "I'll think about it, but not now." She waved her hands around like she was being attacked by a swarm of gnats. "There have been some developments in the case."

  Carla carried her treats into the living room and collapsed on the couch again while Amy settled into the leather easy chair across from her. "What's going on? I got your message about the rock on the porch. Do you have any new ideas about who is sending the threats?"

  "All I know is I wouldn't want to have that person pitching to me in a softball game. Whoever it is has quite an arm. Shepler figured they must've thrown the rock over the privacy fence while standing in the Millers' yard. Of course, the Millers weren't home, and nobody saw anybody sneaking around the neighborh
ood. It's all very frustrating. More frustrating than a blueberry pie bubbling over in the oven."

  "Mmm…blueberry pie. Are you working on a recipe for one? I would be more than willing to taste test for you."

  Amy wrinkled her nose. "No."

  "Sorry. You just mentioned one making a mess in your oven, so I figured the bubbling over thing had happened recently."

  "Nope, but speaking of recent events, I've got some new information about one of the suspects, or at least I hope he's a suspect. I can't imagine him not being one."

  The sudden conversational direction changes were mind numbing. Carla took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll bite. What is the new information?"

  "I think Kevin is having an affair with his secretary. He could've killed Mandy Jo because he didn't want to sneak around anymore."

  That revelation came out of left field. She should've expected it, though. Amy was all about conspiracy theories. Somehow she could rationalize the strangest scenarios and make them sound totally plausible.

  "How did you jump from barely speaking two words to him to surmising he's screwing his secretary?" She took another sip of coffee and remembered the ziti from the previous morning. "You gave him a couple casseroles and discovered he's having an affair all in one shot?"

  Amy sighed. A sure sign that she was preparing to lead Carla on a twisted journey through her mind. "While I was waiting to see Kevin his secretary was talking on the phone about being glad it was all over and how she wouldn't have to sneak around anymore. Then, when he came out of his office, you should've seen how he looked at her. Mandy Jo was pretty, and this woman looks like a stretched out, fashion model version of her. Tall, skinny, long straight black hair and the same icy blue eyes. The biggest difference is she seems to be a candy sweet bubblehead instead of a vindictive ice queen. No wonder he has a thing for her."

  "How long did you spend with them?"

  "I don't know, five or ten minutes."

  "That's an awful short time to figure all of that out." Carla grabbed the bag containing the sticky bun off the end table. A thought formed as she peeled off a hunk of caramel coated bread. Oh, no. Amy was sweet, but when she got excited all subtlety could vanish. "You didn't ask them if they were having an affair, did you?"

  "No! It was so obvious I didn't have to ask."

  "Okay, I'll take your word for it."

  Amy pulled the rubber band that was securing a ponytail out of her hair. Then smoothed her hair back again and redid the ponytail. Playing with her hair, a sure sign that something else was bothering Amy. "What else happened?"

  "He insinuated I could've knocked off Mandy Jo because I knew I couldn't win against her in the pie contest."

  "You suspect him. If he didn't do it, he's probably also looking for suspects to explain what happened."

  "Or he did kill her and is trying to throw me off his trail by making me defend myself. I mean, I've already been cleared because I was with you, but he doesn't know that. Murderers are sneaky. They try to pin their crimes on other people all the time. Going to jail is probably not high on their priority lists. Did you find out from Bruce if Kevin is a suspect?"

  Ugh. The truth was only going to shore up Amy's theory. Hopefully she wouldn't get into trouble using the knowledge. "He said they always look into the spouse until they can find credible witnesses who can confirm they are innocent."

  "That's it? Pretty vague."

  "It's a police investigation. He isn't supposed to be sharing information with the general public or worse yet, people involved in the case."

  Amy raised her eyebrows. "Sounds to me like Kevin doesn't have anybody to vouch for his whereabouts when Mandy Jo was killed."

  CHAPTER NINE

  "It's lovely. Thank you so much for making it fit in with the salon's decor." Thalia hugged Amy and whispered in her ear. "I hate it when people come in with old industrial-sized mayonnaise jars to collect donations for fundraisers."

  "No problem. I wanted to make it look as nice as possible."

  The black lacquer box with an ornate gold picture frame glued to the front did look like it belonged with the leather chairs and gilt framed mirrors of the salon. A jar adorned with bows and lace would be as out of place as cake mix cookies on the dessert tray at a 5-star restaurant. Thalia and the salon didn't do cute and fluffy anything.

  "Where would you like to go to lunch? My treat." Thalia patted her espresso brown hair that was curled into a riot of messy ringlets. "Riverbend Coffee has great paninis. Now that I don't look like a Smurf, I don't think I'll embarrass us too much."

  Amy quickly shook her head before her stomach overrode her brain. The smoked turkey panini with Brie and homemade apple butter at Riverbend was a perfect rectangle of toasted sandwich heaven. Too bad Lucy seemed to like mini hamburgers instead of gourmet sandwiches. "How about Louie's? I haven't been there in ages, and I've been craving their burgers for some reason."

  "Really?" Thalia raised her perfectly waxed eyebrows. "I can afford someplace better than that, but whatever you want. Now that you've mentioned it, sliders do sound kind of good."

  Amy turned away from Thalia and fiddled with the lid of the donation box. She had never had hopes of being an international spy for a reason. Her traitorous face always broadcast her emotions like a flashing, electronic billboard. Actually, she hated the grease-dripping, soggy-bunned, heartburn-inducing, miniature burgers. "It's been awhile since I've eaten there and I wanted to take some notes about how they're made, for a contest."

  Thalia shrugged as she looked out the front window. "Since it's such a nice day, do you want to walk down there? I could use some fresh air."

  "Sure." Maybe the exercise would help burn off some of the onion-infused calories. "It's so nice now that the temperature has turned down from the broil setting."

  Outside, the sidewalk bustled with people shopping and heading to lunch at one of the many downtown restaurants. All of the restaurants on the way to Louie's Hamburgers were a hundred times better than the grungy dive, but she wasn't going for the food.

  Thalia edged closer as they passed by a Lebanese cafe where the smoky scent of grilled meat drifted from the sidewalk patio seating area. "I feel so guilty about Mandy Jo's death."

  Huh? They hadn't walked a block, and Thalia was playing a heavy duty game of true confessions. "Why?"

  "I was going to fire her, had the speech all planned out and everything. Most of her customers had switched to other stylists over the last three months. I lost count of the number of complaints about everything from her spreading nasty rumors about a client's friend to cutting 6-inches of hair off when the customer asked for a trim. She only worked two days a week for the last few months. The money she was bringing in wasn't worth the hassle of dealing with her screw-ups. Don't expect a lot of my customers to chip in for her memorial, but I will help. Let me know how much money you need after you are done collecting donations. She worked for me for over eight years and was an excellent stylist for most of that time."

  So the wicked witch routine had affected Mandy Jo's paycheck and pissed off Thalia. It was never a good idea to tick off a boss. The repercussions from maintaining the consistently nasty attitude didn't seem worth it, at least not if Mandy Jo wanted to continue working as a hair stylist. "Sounds like she had become very difficult to deal with."

  "That's an understatement."

  They walked in silence past the health food store and a jeweler. Thalia could barely kill a moth even if it made circles around her cutting station for an hour straight. Just getting up the nerve to decide to fire Mandy Jo had probably given her an ulcer. She couldn't have killed the diva of crankiness.

  The overpowering scent of grilled onions assaulted Carla and Thalia as a man in an expensive suit held open the door to Louie's for them to enter. The greasy spoon restaurant was basically a big flattop grill, a deep fryer, and rows of retro tables and booths. Many of the red vinyl covered stools and benches were patched with silver duct tape. A line of customers zigzagged a
cross the worn checkerboard floor, queuing up to order the famous mini hamburgers and crispy, shoestring fries. Customers ranged from dust covered road construction workers to women wearing trendy vintage dresses.

  Amy stared at the menu board and leaned toward Thalia. "Do you have any idea why she was so thorny lately?"

  "She's always been moody, you know that. Recently she had turned unbearably obnoxious. It took a bit for me to pry it out of her, but she did have a pretty good reason for being extra angry. She thought Kevin…"

  Amy glanced at Thalia when she stopped talking then followed her gaze to Lucy. Bingo! Her hunch had been right. Louie's was a regular lunch stop for the annoyingly thin secretary. How could she eat there over and over without having to buy a larger size of pants every month? And why had the appearance of Lucy stopped Thalia in the middle of a sentence? A very intriguing partial sentence. She couldn't wait a second longer. It was not a good time to politely let the conversation drop. "She thought Kevin what?"

  Thalia waggled her fingers at Lucy and whispered, "Mandy Jo thought Kevin was having an affair with his secretary, who happens to be one of my clients, and she just walked in the door."

  * * *

  Half an hour later Amy and Thalia returned to the salon. Louie's was known for speed in getting diners in and out. The only choices customers were given was how many sliders and what size of fries, then fountain pop or a milkshake to drink. No healthy options, just grease and sugar-filled soft drinks or grease and artery-clogging shakes. It was the kind of place where people ate and then left, instead of hanging around chatting. In fact, Lucy had gotten her bag full of sliders to go again.