Pepperoni Pizza Can Be Murder

by Chris Cavender

  I touched her shoulder lightly before she could leave the kitchen. “No extras in it, Maddy, and make sure it’s in a clean glass.”

  “Spoilsport,” Maddy said. “I was going to fill it with lemon seeds just to see if she could tell. The woman’s got such a natural sour disposition, I doubt she’d be able to tell the difference.”

  “Come on, I’m counting on you to take the high ground.”

  “Fine, be that way.”

  Two minutes later, Maddy had delivered the drink and came back with an order. Clara was having a personal-sized pizza, along with one of our house salads with honey mustard dressing. As I prepped the salad and handed it to Maddy, I peeked out the door. The place was starting to fill up, and we’d have our hands full soon enough. It appeared that Clara wasn’t going to cause a scene. If that was her intent, she would have done it now that she had acquired an audience. Thank heaven for small favors, anyway.

  As I worked steadily to fill the orders, I mostly forgot about Clara Hatcher. It got that way when things were busy, and we were having a record lunch crowd. That always made me feel good, and all was well until I heard the first scream coming from the dining room.

  When I raced out the kitchen door, the first thing I saw was Clara Hatcher standing over her plate, screaming her head off. “There’s a roach in my salad.”

  Her tone was hysterical, and it was clearly upsetting our other diners.

  People were getting up to leave in droves when I said, “Let’s all stay calm. I’m sure it was an isolated incident.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t feel like taking any chances,” Yancey Grober said as he threw his napkin down on the table. “I’ve kind of lost my appetite.”

  “I’m not all that hungry anymore, either,” Bill Hayes said.

  His wife, Enid, chimed in. “We’re so sorry, Eleanor.”

  This was getting bad. “Folks, I’m sorry about what happened. You’re all free to go, and nobody owes me a cent, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stay.”

  Of course, no one did, and I honestly couldn’t blame them.

  As Clara left the Slice, I could swear she shot a smile at me that no one else could see.

  “This is a disaster,” I said as we cleared away the plates and glasses from the tables where our former customers had been sitting. “She planted that bug on purpose.”

  “Well, I didn’t do it,” Maddy said. “Even though I have to admit that I’d been thinking about doing something to her myself.”

  “She beat you to it,” I said. “How can we possibly get anyone to believe that we didn’t serve her a disgusting bug?”

  “I doubt they’ll just take our word for it,” she said.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said. I looked in my address book and found a number. After dialing it, I prayed the person I needed to speak with was in his office, and not out somewhere having lunch.

  He answered on the second ring. “This is Jason Pine, county health inspection department.”

  “Mr. Pine, this is Eleanor Swift at the Slice of Delight in Timber Ridge.”

  “Ms. Swift, we’re not due to inspect your restaurant for another month.”

  “I know, but I need you to come today. Right now, if you can manage it.”

  “Is there a problem? The reason I ask is that most people don’t actively seek our inspections of their establishments.”

  I said, “I just had a customer who claimed she found a roach in her salad.”

  He paused, and then said, “I can’t imagine your restaurant having a roach problem.”

  “It doesn’t,” I said, nearly shouting into the phone. “She planted it, and I need you to prove it.”

  “I’m not sure what I can do,” he said. “I have no way of knowing whether it was on your premises or not.”

  “Would you come right now? Please? This could cost me my restaurant, and you know I don’t deserve it.”

  I didn’t think my plea was going to work, but finally he said, “I’ll be right there. Take my advice and lock your doors immediately.”

  “Consider it done, not that there’s much chance anyone’s going to come in now, anyway.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Maddy looked crossly at me. “You called Pine? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Who else can prove that we didn’t serve someone a roach?” I asked. “Whether you like him or not, we need him.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “What do we do in the meantime? Should we start cleaning up?”

  “Ordinarily I’d say yes, but we need to show him our kitchen, warts and all. If he gives us a bad rating, we’ll just have to live with it.”

  I started for the kitchen when Maddy asked, “Where are you going? You just said you’re not going to clean.”

  “I’m not, but on the off chance there really was a roach in her salad, I want to find it before Jason Pine does.”

  He arrived at the pizzeria in thirty minutes, really just a little under that. I thought whimsically that the inspection would be free, based on a pizza chain’s old advertising campaign. I thought about sharing that thought with him, but from the stern look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t in the mood for my offbeat kind of humor. Jason Pine was a balding, thin, and sallow man, who displayed his short height like a challenge, daring anyone to say something to him about his lack of stature. He carried a black clipboard that had been known to make grown men faint in the past, and I felt queasy looking at it even now.

  “Have you touched anything?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, sir. As promised, this is exactly as we left it.” It was true, too. Maddy and I had searched the kitchen more thoroughly than we ever had in our lives, and there was no sign of any infestation at all.

  He nodded, then asked, “Where was the customer sitting?”

  I pointed to Clara’s table, and he examined the roach before picking it up with a pair of tweezers. When he flipped it over, he said, “I’ve seen enough.”

  “Come on, aren’t you even going to look in my kitchen?” I could see my reputation as a restaurateur going in the drink with a surprisingly small amount of effort on Clara Hatcher’s part.

  “There’s no need.”

  He got out his clipboard and started jotting notes down. Maddy started to say something, but I knew whatever she came up with would just make it worse. I put a hand on her shoulder, then shook my head in warning. She didn’t like it, but my sister abided by my request to leave it alone.

  “That should do it,” he said, then tore the top copy of his sheet and handed it to me.

  I looked at it dumbly, and then saw that it absolved me of all guilt in the matter.

  Maddy was about to explode, so I knew I had to say something quickly. “How do you know she was lying about finding the roach in her salad?”

  He picked the offending bug up with his tweezers and turned it over so I could see. I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking at.

  “It’s clear enough, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” I said.

  Impatiently he took a pen from his pocket and pointed toward the roach’s sternum. “Someone swatted this roach and killed it, then carefully cleaned up the evidence. See how the carapace is slightly crushed here, and then again here? Whoever did this was clever and cleaned it well, but a trained eye can always tell.” He sniffed the roach, then said, “This insect has been dead less than an hour, so that eliminates it coming in with your food supplies.”

  “How do you know it didn’t come from our kitchen?” Maddy asked.

  “I’ve seen your sister’s work space. For this to have been your fault, you would have had to step on the insect in back, rinse it yourself, and then carefully place it in among the salad greens. If that weren’t unbelievable enough, you would then have to call me to find it, something no restaurateur would ever do. I’ll take a look around if you’d like, but I stand by my report.”

  He went into the kitchen, and as I star
ted to follow, he said, “I’ll do it alone, if you please.”

  Once he was gone, I hissed at Maddy, “Why did you ask him that?”

  “I honestly wanted to know how he knew,” she said.

  “Well, next time look it up online.”

  Two minutes later, Mr. Pine came back out. “That countertop could use a good scouring, but I’m satisfied in my original assessment.”

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” I said.

  “It’s my job,” he said.

  After he was gone, Maddy asked, “What good is that going to do us? Clara’s already done her damage.”

  I handed her Pine’s report. “I’ve got a plan. Run over to Harlow Printers and have one of these blown up to about three by five feet tall. Then have him run off five hundred copies regular-sized.”

  “What are you going to be doing while I’m doing that?” Maddy asked.

  “I’m going to start making everything in sight,” I said.

  “Do you honestly think that’s the answer? I know making pizzas soothes your nerves, but you can’t afford to start giving your stuff away.”

  “You know what, Maddy? That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now get busy, we need to nip this before it’s all over town.”

  “Don’t kid yourself—all of Timber Ridge knows what happened today.”

  “Then we’ll fix it before people actually believe it. Now go!”

  She did as she was told, and I got busy making pizzas, sandwiches, and salads, then putting them in take-out boxes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t keep my eye out for any more unwelcome visitors, but as the health inspector had proclaimed, we were clean.

  Thirty minutes later, I had an extremely large supply of prepared food when Maddy came back from the printer. I looked at the full-sized copy and smiled. “This goes in the front window,” I said.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have the printer make up sandwich board signs for us to wear while you were at it.”

  “If I’d thought of it, I would have.”

  Jason Hurley came in as were planning our strategy, and as soon as he heard what we were doing, he volunteered his services pro bono.

  “I can’t let you work for free,” I told him.

  “You don’t have a problem with me doing it,” Maddy said.

  “That’s different. You’re family.”

  Jason said, “That’s how I think of you, too. I’m sure if Greg were free, he’d be doing this, too. Let’s get this food delivered before it starts getting cold.”

  He took bags and boxes, then put a stack of flyers on top of the pile. As he headed for the door, I said, “Remember, explain to them that we got a clean bill of health, and the food is in appreciation of our customers who are willing to give us another chance.”

  “What happens if nobody takes it?” he asked.

  Maddy said, “Trust me, I doubt you’ll find many people around here who are willing to turn down free food.”

  We each grabbed food and flyers, and started out on foot to distribute both. We’d fan out later and use our cars to deliver more food after we ran out this time, but for now, I wanted everyone around us to know that we’d been set up, and we weren’t about to stand still for it.

  Three hours later, the supplies in my pizzeria were nearly exhausted, and so were the flyers I’d had Maddy make up. Josh, my sister, and I sat at a table in front—though not the one where Clara had been—and shared drinks and stories about our afternoons.

  “I can’t believe it actually worked,” Josh said.

  “I told you, didn’t I? Never underestimate the willingness of our neighbors to take free food.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” I said, cautioning them. “We’ll have to see how many show up for our dinner schedule.”

  “They’ll come,” Maddy said confidently, “though they might be expecting more handouts from us.”

  “They’ll be disappointed, then. I’ll have to tap into my emergency funds to cover what we gave away today.”

  “Clara Hatcher should have to pay,” Josh said, his temper coming to the forefront.

  “We’ll deal with her, trust me,” Maddy said.

  I didn’t like the way that sounded. “What did you have in mind, Maddy?”

  “We’re not going to just roll over and take this little stunt, are we?”

  I shook my head. “Hardly. I just don’t want to do something that will get us into this any deeper than we already are.”

  “She started it. We’re going to finish it,” Maddy said.

  “Fine. While you’re planning and plotting, I’m running to the grocery store to get fresh supplies for tonight. It’s too bad Paul is already gone.”

  “I saw him there when I went by the bakery the last time,” Josh said.

  “Then let’s go ask him if he has any old bread,” Maddy said. “We’re going to toast it, anyway.”

  “Okay, I’ll go ask him.”

  “You shop. Josh and I will handle Paul,” Maddy said.

  I was too tired to argue with her, so I grabbed my purse, made a quick list of the supplies I needed, and headed out to the grocery store. We might not have many customers tonight, and I certainly wasn’t going to turn any of them away who were brave enough to come, just because I hadn’t had the foresight to stock up on my supplies.

  When I got back, Josh was waiting for me by the door, our cordless telephone clutched tightly in one hand.

  I pretended to ignore it as I handed him a bag of groceries after I unlocked the door. He took them from me, then immediately put them down on a nearby table.

  “Josh, if I’d wanted them there, I could have done that much myself.”

  “My dad just called,” he said as he thrust the telephone out toward me. “He needs to talk to you.”

  I couldn’t say I was all that surprised. “Well, he knows where to find me. If we’re going to have anything to feed our customers tonight, I have to get started on fresh dough right away. I’m pushing it as it is.” I’d run out of the dough I’d made that morning giving away our products, and I was going to have to make my quick-dough recipe if there was any hope at all of providing pizza to customers—something kind of essential in a pizza parlor.

  “It sounded important,” he said, the stubborn determination strong in his voice.

  “Josh, I’ll let him know you delivered the message, but I can’t drop everything and call your father whenever he demands it. If I did, I’d never get anything else done.”

  “It’s about Greg,” Josh said. “Maddy’s in the back getting as much ready as she can for this evening, so you’ve got a little time. Call him,” he said as he pressed the house telephone into my hands.

  I nodded as I realized that it was the only way I was going to get him off my back. “Take these into the kitchen,” I ordered him, probably being a little testier than I should have been, but I was in no mood to talk to Kevin Hurley.

  Unfortunately, I knew his number by heart.

  “It’s Eleanor Swift,” I said the second he answered. “I just got your message.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Wow, I didn’t realize I had to check in with you every time I left the restaurant. Is that a new policy for everyone in Timber Ridge, or are you just trying to make me feel extra special?”

  “You need to come to my office.” There was no tone of request in his voice at all, strictly a superior giving orders to a subordinate who couldn’t say no. If he thought that was true, it was time to dissuade him of that opinion immediately.

  “Last time I checked, I didn’t work for you. That tone of voice might work for members of your police force, but it’s not going to work on me.”

  “You need to fill out some paperwork, Eleanor. Let’s not make a big deal out of this, okay? But I need you to do it as soon as possible.”

  “What’s it about? Josh told me it had something to do with Greg Hatcher.”

  “Josh talks too much,” he said.

&nb
sp; “Well, was he right? Does it?”

  “Yes,” Kevin admitted reluctantly, from the catch in his voice.

  “Is it his release papers?”

  “You know better than that,” Kevin said. “I need you to swear out a complaint against him.”

  I couldn’t help myself—I laughed heartily. “You’re kidding, right?” There was a long pause, and I added, “You’re not, though, are you? Have you completely lost your mind, Kevin?”

  “I’d prefer it if you’d call me Chief Hurley while I’m conducting official police business,” he snapped at me.

  “Well, I’d prefer winning the lottery over paying taxes, but I don’t think that’s going to happen, either.”

  “Does that mean you won’t do it?”

  “Most emphatically,” I said. “I refuse to put my friend and employee in jail, especially since I don’t believe he committed the crime.”

  “You’re too easily duped by the people around you—you know that, don’t you?”

  “I’d rather be too trusting than skeptical of everyone close to me,” I replied, adding a little too much zing to the accusation than I should have. I had a hard time keeping my temper in check around Kevin, probably because of the history between us. That same shared past most likely made him a little cockier with me than he was with other business owners and residents of Timber Ridge, so we were even.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” he said.

  “Good. That’s the way I like it. I’d rather fail spectacularly if I’m going to lose, anyway. That way, at least it’s memorable. Does this mean you’re going to let Greg go?”

  “I don’t have much choice,” he said.

  “Thanks for that, anyway.”

  Kevin paused, and then said, “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing you any favors. He robbed you once, and I don’t doubt he’ll do it again.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said flatly, tired of the way he assumed the worst in my employee and friend.

  “Only time will tell,” he said, then hung up before I could get in a reply.

  I walked into the kitchen and hung the telephone back up in its cradle.