Pies & Peril

by Janel Gradowski

  She put her hands on her hips and asked, "Do you have any better ideas?"

  "At this point, not really." He folded the crumb covered cupcake wrapper into a precise triangle. "There's something else. Kevin and Lucy finally have a concrete alibi for the time of Mandy Jo's murder."

  "They didn't have one before?" Alex asked.

  Shepler shook his head. "Both of them said they were at their homes alone, so no way to confirm it. Now that the cat is out of the bag about Lucy's pregnancy they decided to fess up to what they were really doing when the murder occurred…having sex in Kevin's office."

  Amy wrinkled her nose. Ewww. Hopefully Shepler wouldn't go into the gory details. It was too early for kinky sex descriptions. "How is that any more believable than being home alone?"

  "The cleaning lady walked in on them, and she confirmed the time. She uses a digital time card app on her phone to keep track of her billable hours."

  "That's pretty messed up… having sex with your mistress while your wife is being murdered." Alex refilled his coffee mug. "Could they have hired someone to kill Mandy Jo?"

  "I can't find any evidence of that, besides, after the tell-all Q & A session this morning, I don't think either had any reason to want her dead. Mandy Jo had filed for an annulment a week before she was killed."

  "She was vindictive," Amy wagged her finger at Shepler. "Kevin was probably afraid she'd run him into bankruptcy trying to make alimony payments."

  Shepler and Alex shook their heads simultaneously. What next? Were they going to start singing in a boy band together so they could capitalize on the synchronized moves?

  "What?"

  "You don't get alimony from an annulment," Alex said.

  Shepler nodded. "He's right. Kevin wanted to have children, and Mandy Jo didn't. Something about being afraid they would take after her family. Apparently they fought about it constantly. She decided to basically cancel out the marriage so he could find somebody else to have children with. Seems like a pretty compassionate thing to do, considering how combative she was."

  "That was a very nice thing to do. Very uncharacteristic for her, taking the easy route that would cause the least amount of pain and trouble. I bet she didn't know Lucy was pregnant, though. Any woman would be pissed if her husband got somebody else pregnant while he was still married to her. He could've at least waited until the ink dried on the annulment papers to impregnate his secretary."

  Shepler shrugged. "I agree with everything you said. I have no idea what he was thinking, but he wasn't pondering the murder of his wife."

  Two of her three primary suspects were cleared and strolling down the lane with a baby carriage. That left Elliot. "You know, Elliot wasn't happy when I refused to chat with him last night. The slime ball actually wanted me to somehow get one of Mandy Jo's contest-winning recipes so he could sell the pies at his bakery and then give me a tiny bit of the profits to help pay for the memorial. He has been acting very shady lately."

  Shepler ran his hand over his buzz cut, caramel colored hair. "I tracked down Maxson on the security tapes, too, because you've been suspicious of him. He was downtown at the time of the incident and doesn't own a pickup, either."

  "That doesn't mean he couldn't have hired somebody to chase us, just like he could've hired someone to set the fire behind The Breakfast Spot." Raised eyebrows all around from the boys. Nothing like double questioning looks to wither a woman's self-confidence. "What? I could be right."

  "Or you could be scared and grasping at straws to explain what has been happening. I have been checking into Maxson. Unless he has some secret bank account that actually has money in it somewhere, I really doubt he's magically found the cash to pay a hit man to do his dirty work."

  * * *

  The paper towel was ripped and covered in greasy grime. Amy tossed it into the waste basket to commune with its spent compadres. The microwave in the break room of Alex's office was the fourth cleaning task she had tackled. Apparently the cleaning service didn't worry about the inside of kitchen appliances. Either the workers weren't cooks, or they applied the "don't look, don't worry" philosophy to their professional cleaning chores. Her husband was still busy, holed up in a conference room with several employees, trying to figure out some kind of complicated business conundrum. He had insisted she come into the office with him since he only had a few minutes of work to do and didn't want her to be alone at home. Two hours later the kitchenette was sparkling clean, and she was bored out of her mind.

  Calling and waking Carla up from her pre-work nap had been a bad idea. How was she to know Carla had left her phone on by accident? She usually turned it off when she needed to sleep. So it was either time to tackle the unisex bathroom or figure out something else to do. There weren't any baking supplies or even a proper oven in the kitchenette. Not a cook's kitchen. It was strictly a heat-and-eat set up. She peeked into the bathroom. Luckily it appeared to be cleaner than the break room, so onto Boredom Busting Plan C.

  She grabbed her purse out of its hiding spot in Alex's desk drawer and sauntered down the hallway. A brief stop at the conference room, and she should be free from hover hubby. It made her heart flutter that he loved her so much, but dragging her out of the high-end security system protected kitchen at home to hang out at his business was too much. Listening to the office chatter, instead of working on perfecting the lemon levels in the cheesecake muffin recipe, was not working for her. Some fresh air would do her good. Apparently the office manager liked synthetic lavender scented air fresheners.

  Amy quietly knocked on the conference room door then opened it and stuck her head into the room. "I'm going to go shopping for a bit. See you in an hour or so," she called to her stunned-into-silence husband. Before he could compose himself and exile her to his office she backed out of the room. The door clicked shut, and she sprinted through the cubicle maze to the front door. Freedom! The hot and humid air of August had never felt so good.

  The shopping and eating mecca of downtown Kellerton was only a block away. She made a note to reward Alex for choosing the office space near downtown, instead of the other option in an industrial park beside the freeway. Amy glanced behind her, to make sure neither hubby nor crazed killer were following, and walked around the corner onto Main Street. There was a substantial sprinkling of people wandering along the sidewalk, so surely she would be safe from attack, unless the killer was a sniper. She studied the rooftops across the street for a few seconds and then picked up her pace from ambling to brisk.

  The Cookbook Nook was a few shops ahead. If heaven was a bookstore, her personal nirvana was The Cookbook Nook. Not a single auto repair or vampire book could be found on the shelves. Just cookbooks. Glorious, fascinating cookbooks.

  She emerged from the cramped, little store half an hour later. Only two rather thin cookbooks were wrapped in red gingham checked tissue paper inside the Kraft paper bag she carried. Of course, she had drooled over more books, but the diminutive purchases had been a tactical choice. The longer she could comfortably carry her shopping bags, the more she could avoid returning to her most likely irked husband. If he called her cell phone, she would answer, but she wasn't returning in less than an hour unless forced to do so.

  The window of Peach Fuzz Baby Boutique was filled with candy-colored, cherub-sized couture dresses. Amy stopped in front of the display. She had been so wrong about Kevin and Lucy. Their affair didn't make them angels, but they had been cleared of the murder. So, Amy had upset a pregnant woman. Repeatedly. For no good reason. That was some bad karma she would like to reverse. She could send the couple a basket full of baby stuff, to make amends to the universe. The last thing she needed was a bad juju smackdown in the middle of a cooking competition. She grabbed the door handle then let it go. Twelve hours was probably a bit too early to look for forgiveness after convincing the police to haul them in for questioning. She would let them chill out a bit, like until after the barely visible baby bump was born.

  So…what else could she
do, besides worrying about getting picked off by an assassin? A latte and scone sounded good. She decided to start walking toward Riverbend Coffee and see what other shops looked interesting along the way. During the stroll she unconsciously dog-tracked diagonally toward eye-catching window displays. One, filled with bits of lace and satin strategically positioned on well-endowed mannequins, made her stop in her tracks. She took a step back to read the sign above the door. Whispers Intimate Apparel. Skimpy lingerie could be useful as an apology for skipping out of Alex's mind-numbing protective custody.

  A fist-sized silver jingle bell suspended from a red silk cord on the door handle tinkled when Amy walked into the store. Circular clothing racks, arranged by color, filled the space. Headless, limbless, unmistakably female torsos sporting the latest after-dark attire posed on top of each rack. Amy shuffled through the white selections nearest to the door and picked out a sheer baby doll nightie with a matching bikini and sparkly feather trim. The loose fitting, yet see-through, top was steamy for Alex with a nice, flouncy bit of belly camouflage to make her happy. Sold. She needed to hustle to Riverbend before Alex decided she'd been gone too long and sent out a search party. Nobody was behind the checkout counter, so she dinged the service bell next to the cash register.

  "Just a moment," a voice called from the nether regions of the store.

  Amy laid the negligee set onto the glass display case that served as a counter. Elaborate masks, sequin-covered pasties, and minuscule g-strings were arranged on the shelves inside. The clerk took up her position behind the counter while Amy intently studied a white mask covered with intricate silver glitter filigree, considering whether it would match the nightie.

  "What kind of pie are you making for the contest?"

  When she had entered the store, the possibility an employee would ask a personally probing question had crossed her mind. Pie was not a subject she had anticipated. She looked up to find Rayshelle Applebee staring at her. The owners of the store must have the intimate apparel market cornered in Kellerton and didn't worry about offering excellent customer service.

  "Fruit."

  "What kind of fruit?" Rayshelle had somehow managed to turn fruit into a three syllable word. A rather impressive feat of pronunciation, but she needed some work on her manners. Blatant interrogation delivered with a sledge hammer approach wasn't going to work. Amy just wanted to buy a little fabric confection as a treat for Alex and get to the treats for herself at Riverbend. Time to hit the shortcut button and get the game over.

  "Cooked."

  Rayshelle's face contorted and then reconfigured into another grimace. It looked like she was trying to do an imitation of the creepy comedy and tragedy masks Amy's high school drama teacher had hung on the wall behind her desk. The two-inch wide stripe of dark roots running down the middle of Rayshelle's bleached blonde hair certainly added a dramatic backdrop to the facial gymnastics demonstration.

  "I know it's going to be cooked. What other way would it be?" Rayshelle asked as she scanned the UPC code on the price tag, crumpled the ensemble into a ball, and stuffed it into a hot pink shopping back stamped with a line drawing of bulging cleavage edged with lace.

  "Refrigerated, like fresh fruit pies with glaze," Amy responded. As she pulled her wallet out of her purse, she poked around the pens and receipts looking for the pouch that contained a reusable fabric shopping bag. No way was she carrying around the questionably adorned pink bag in plain sight. The store probably had more discreet packaging, but it wasn't worth asking.

  "Yeah. Right." Rayshelle snatched the money out of Amy's hand. "Thanks for reminding me of that."

  Doesn't sound thankful, Amy thought as she unfurled the thin, fabric tote that had, for once, been easy to find in the messy purse. Not that she was expecting gratitude. She was grateful that Rayshelle didn't say anything else as she handed back change along with the little bag. Amy dropped the money into her purse and the package into the wonderfully opaque tote. Then she tossed the bag full of cookbooks on top. It didn't matter if the lingerie got squished since Rayshelle had already wadded it up.

  "Thank you." Amy took a couple steps backward while maintaining eye contact, just in case the frustrated pie baker decided to go angry ninja and use a stiletto-heeled pump, instead of a throwing star, for an assassination attempt. The jingle of the door bell drew Rayshelle's attention. Amy spun, dodged the assorted animal print rack, and successfully made it out the door without being attacked.

  * * *

  Amy shifted the to-go coffee cup to her left hand so she could open the door and steeled herself for the impending blast of cold. She tugged on the door handle tentatively, just in case the stubborn hinge had been fixed. It hadn't, so she gripped the metal plate tightly and took a step backward to get the momentum going. The door at Maxson's Bakery just seemed like it didn't want to let people inside.

  Elliot stood next to the cash register, his usual post. A rectangle of darkness was above the swinging doors to the kitchen. Weird. Every other time she had stopped in the afternoon the back room was lit up as bakers clanged around making cookies and cakes. Amy took a sip of the brown sugar and cinnamon latte, but didn't need its warmth. The usual ice arena atmosphere had turned bipolar and was now going for tropical hot. Amy glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Elliot. She had been gone long enough from Alex's supervision, so she needed to make the visit quick. The pleasant, foodie chat with Sophie, at Riverbend Coffee, had lasted longer than expected.

  "I just stopped in to pick up the donation jar."

  A fake, creepy smile had been cemented on his face since she walked through the door. The House of Horrors look softened a bit as he said, "I am regretful my customers weren't more generous with their contributions."

  Yet he wasn't regretful for his own stinginess. "Not a problem. Like I said last night, I've decided to purchase a less expensive brick instead of the memorial bench. I'm only a few dollars away from having all of the money raised, so I can order it soon."

  "You are obviously quite adept at fundraising, considering how disliked Mandy Jo was." He steepled his hands in front of his chest. "Being well-known in our little foodie community has served you well. I am delighted to inform you that I have formulated a proposal that could make your name even more recognizable, a boon to your future charity campaigns."

  Amy took a deep, cleansing breath in through her nose. It smelled like vanilla in the bakery. Wasn't that supposed to be a calming scent?

  He continued, "If you would supply me with the recipe for one of your prize-winning delights, I would include your name on the identification tag in my bakery case. Every person that peruses my baked goods selection will see your name."

  So he wanted to make money off the hard work she'd put into developing a recipe in exchange for putting her name on a slip of paper? Was she supposed to be flattered to see her name next to tie-dyed sugar cookies and lemon poppy seed muffins while he pocketed all of the profits from the sales? "Slimy" was too mellow of a word to describe Elliot.

  Amy shook her head. A flood of not-so-kind words were log jammed in the back of her throat. Better to leave while she still had an ounce of composure. "I don't think so," she managed to say.

  A door slammed somewhere in the darkness of the bakery's back room. Elliot glanced at the swinging doors leading to the space. Amy spun around and rammed the stubborn, heavy door with her shoulder.

  "Consider it, and contact me when you have made a decision," he called as a stream of hot latte gurgled out of the lid of the to-go cup and cascaded down the back of Amy's hand. Not only had the scheming baker offended her, he also made her spill part of the yummy latte. Jerk. Actually, despite what Shepler thought, now that Kevin and Lucy were cleared of the murder, Elliot could be far more than a simple jerk.

  She glared at the brown splotches on her pale yellow skirt as she turned to walk back to Alex's office. Her phone chortled in her purse. Amy plopped down on a cement bench edging one of the raised flowerbeds that punctuated th
e sidewalks at regular intervals along Main Street. It was Alex calling. She expected a scolding for skipping out when he was busy, but instead got an offer to pick her up since the meeting was finally over. Saved from a three-block long walk of stained skirt shame.

  They agreed to meet at the park on the other side of the river in 15 minutes. As she walked back past Maxson's Amy noticed the sign in the window had been flipped to Closed. The entire bakery was dark. She had never seen the business closed in the middle of the afternoon. She walked out the front door barely two minutes earlier. Elliot and whoever had been in the back room were probably leaving out the back door.

  Instead of continuing straight, over the bridge and onto the park, Amy turned and walked close to the side wall of Riverbend Coffee. When she reached the back corner she stopped and pretended to take a picture of the river with her phone. Elliot and Kristi's voices traveled along the back of the buildings. She could hear them loud and clear.

  "Business has been rather sluggish this afternoon providing the optimal excuse to take the afternoon off."

  "We've never closed early before because there weren't any customers. What's so special about today?"

  "Ahh, you've seen through my transparent attempt at deception. The truth is, I have a surprise for you, my darling."

  Two cars' doors slammed and an engine rumbled to life. Amy was glad she had put Shepler on her phone's contact list. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely hit the call button. It would've taken her about a dozen attempts to enter full phone number one digit at a time.

  As she hurried across the bridge to meet up with Alex, she explained her newest theory to the detective. Of course, she left out the part about sneaking around to eavesdrop on the couple. She just said that she had overheard Elliot tell his wife that he had taken drastic measures to take care of a situation. If the situation was Mandy Jo, he had admitted to his wife that he committed murder. What if the surprise for Kristi was killing her so she couldn't implicate him?