Bert groaned, leaning against her window and watching the city lights pass by. Many of the houses in the neighborhoods near the highway were still all decked out for Christmas.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t poison, Bert. You know I like to agree with you more often than not.”
“But you disagree this time?”
“I just think that not every death has to be a murder. I know we’ve dealt with a lot of murders in this city over the past few months, but sometimes life just happens.”
Bert tightened her arms around herself. Despite the heater, she was still feeling cold. She wasn’t going to argue with Carla, she was simply too tired for that, but she had a strong feeling that this wasn’t an accident. It bothered her that no one else seemed to think so.
“Anyway, who would want to kill the guy? Didn’t you say he was just an assistant? He wasn’t even a politician or anything. What possible reason could there be for someone to target him?”
This question sent Bert’s mind into a whole new thought process. She felt embarrassed to admit it, but she was so focused on the poisoning aspect that she hadn’t much considered the why of the situation. “You’re right in some respects, but I’m sure there could be a lot of reasons for someone to kill the mayor’s assistant. Maybe he knew something he wasn’t supposed to.”
Carla took her eyes off the road for a second to give Bert a sideways look. “You mean about the mayor? You think she did this?”
“No, not necessarily. I did see her and her assistant at the costume shop together.”
At this comment, Carla openly gasped. “You think she was having an affair?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying there are multiple possibilities here. If this really was murder, and I think it is, it could have been the mayor, her husband, or even someone else at the party. Anyone could have slipped something into his drink without anyone noticing. I mean, it was so busy and crowded in there, no one would have noticed.”
Carla took one hand off the steering wheel and pointed at Bert. “But first, you have to know if he was poisoned at all.” They were pulling off the highway and into the neighborhood where both ladies lived.
“I guess you’re right,” Bert finally conceded. She wasn’t used to her best friend siding with the detective. She just wished there was someone who’d listen to her and believe her.
If she dug down deep, she knew that the detective and her best friend just might be right. This could very well have been a simple accident. However, her gut feeling said otherwise, and she couldn’t ignore it.
“Anyway, the only person who could even tell you if this was a poisoning is the coroner, Pen Topper.”
Bert blinked a few times, sitting up in her seat. “Pen Topper, as in from our church congregation?”
“Of course. Didn’t you know? He was just elected coroner this last November.”
As they pulled up outside of Bert’s cottage, she already had new plans forming in her mind.
“Here we are.”
“Thanks for the ride,” she replied, eagerly opening her door. “I better get inside and get to bed.”
“Did you want to do something together tomorrow? I know you’re closed for New Year’s Day.”
Bert shook her head. “No thanks. I have plans.”
“Plans?” Carla asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Since when do you have plans that don’t involve me?”
“Tomorrow I do,” she said quickly. Giving one last goodbye, she shut the car door and rushed to get inside. There was so much to do and only a few hours to sleep. She had a lot of pies to bake the next morning.
CHAPTER 7
* * *
In spite of the late hour she’d gone to bed, and only having about four hours of sleep, Bert climbed out of bed bright and early to get into the kitchen. A shower and two cups of black coffee later and she was energized enough to face the day.
In the usual fashion, the counters and kitchen table were covered with flour for rolling pie crusts. Bags of sugar, baker’s chocolate, fresh apples, and so many more ingredients decorated the room.
She knew her New Year’s Pie was still in the fridge at the shop, but she wanted to save that for a special occasion with her friends like she’d originally planned. No, she just needed a few bargaining chips to earn the information she wanted.
Because of the array of pies she’d brought to her church’s Christmas party in December, she knew that Pen Topper’s favorite dessert had been her brandy apple pie. It was a fancy dish that held the balanced flavors of spiced alcohol and sugary fruit. The top crust was made from little bits of dough that were cut into the shape of maple leaves and then layered across the filling
The second and third pies would have to be educated guesses, but Bert was pretty good at determining what sort of tasty flavors people enjoyed. She chose to go with pecan and cherry, two staples that many people enjoyed.
Soon, the whole cottage was filled with the scent of sugars, cinnamon, and other spices. This gave Bert a moment to sit and relax in her favorite chair in the front room for a minute.
By ten a.m. the pies were all done, packed in red and green plastic travel containers, and loaded onto the passenger seat of her car.
She was ready to face the day.
Even if Detective Mannor and her best friend Carla were skeptical, Bert was determined to get answers. Inwardly, she felt a little silly. She knew that if Carla and Mannor had acknowledged that this was probably poisoning and murder, she wouldn’t be jumping into the fray like this. However, something about the lack of overall support in her theory made her even more dead set on digging in.
For most of her life, especially the past five years, she was a well-respected woman in the community. At church, she was a star among the youth group. At the county fairs and competitions, she was the winner of best pie for five consecutive years. Now, she was even the forerunner of one of the most popular shops in the Old Market District of Culver’s Hood.
She was used to having some say in most matters and had grown accustomed to her opinion holding weight with the police—even Detective Mannor.
This was a New Year, and she was going to start it right by trying to get to the bottom of this murder before someone else did.
Making her way down to the city morgue, Bert drummed her fingers on the steering, hoping that she would be able to get the answers she wanted.
The downtown area seemed like a ghost town compared to the night before. Hardly anyone was parked along the streets at the meters, and no one seemed to be walking the sidewalks. Bert only hoped that Pen was at work, otherwise, she would have made the drive for nothing.
She knew she should have stopped by his house first, but in her rush to get out the door, she hadn’t thought of that.
Finding a parking spot right on the street outside the morgue, she paid the meter and walked into the reception area.
“Good morning,” she called to the woman behind the counter who had on a way too dark eyeshadow.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” she asked with a lengthy drawl, not even the tiniest hint of a smile gracing her lips.
“Actually, I was hoping that Pen Topper was here. I have a pie to drop off for him.”
“Name?”
“Bertha Hannah.”
The lady chewed on the gum in her mouth while she picked up the phone. “Is Doctor Topper in? Can you let him know a lady named Bertha Hannah is here with a pie?” Waiting a couple seconds, her fingers drumming the phone, she finally nodded. “Okay, I’m sending her down.”
“I’m free to go?” Bert joked.
“Down the hall. The door at the very end.” She motioned that way.
“Thanks.” Walking down the hall, she quickly found the office with Pen’s name etched on the glass. Without hesitation, she knocked and let herself in.
“Bert, good morning,” the short, bald-headed man exclaimed upon seeing his old friend. Standing up from his desk, he invited her in. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have a lot of time. I just wanted to stop by and drop off this pie.” She held up the dish, letting the scent of the apples and brandy waft over to him.
Pen blinked a few times in delighted surprise. “That’s what my receptionist said, but what in heaven’s name for?”
“Well, I’d only just heard last night from Carla about your new job, and I’m sorry I didn’t congratulate you earlier. So, to make it up, I decided to bring you one of my pies here at your work.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” he said, blushing and adjusting his round glasses.
“Well, there is a small selfish motive, of course. I thought you could share it with some of the other employees, and then they could all get a taste of my pies. It’s like drumming up a little business.” She held the pie out toward him.
“I’m not complaining,” he beamed through his haze, taking the delicious dish off her hands. “This will be the perfect thing to help set off a long night.”
Bert feigned surprise, widening her eyes and putting her lips into an o shape. “Wow. You have to work nights, too? This sounds like a handful of a job.”
“Not usually, no, but did you hear about the poisoning at the mayor’s party last night?”
At this comment, Bert nearly fell off her feet with shock. Without her having to poke or pry, he’d just come out and told her what she came for. “Oh, my goodness, no,” she lied, hoping it never got back to him that she had been at the party. If he knew that, he might get suspicious and stop sharing information with her.
He chuckled. “Of course, you wouldn’t have. I only just turned in my report to the police a half hour ago. I doubt the reporters have gotten their hands on that info yet.”
“Well, I don’t really read the newspaper, anyway.”
“Yep, some guy was poisoned. He fell from the balcony, too. I’m sure this will be all over the five o’clock news like it always is.”
Bert shook her head. “Poisoned. Wow. With what?” she asked, trying really hard not to look like she was prying.
“Some synthetic form of cyanide. Kind of wild really. I’ve never seen anything like it, but this is only my second month on the job. It’s exciting.” He rubbed his hands together like a kid who’d just been offered a gift card to a candy shop.
Now Bert decided to be a little more real with him. “Should you be telling me all this? I mean, aren’t your reports supposed to be confidential?”
He nodded. “They are, yes, but I doubt you have any connection with the party or the murder.”
Bert laughed nervously. “Of course, not.”
“And besides, like I said, it’ll probably be on the five o’clock report tonight anyway. Every time I’ve done an autopsy like this one, it’s usually ended up on the news pretty quickly. Especially when it’s a case involving the mayor. I assume they’ll be talking about this one for a few weeks at least.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Bert admitted. “Well, I have some other pies to drop off.”
“Okay, thanks for stopping by and thanks for the pie. I’m sure everyone on staff will be thrilled.”
“See you at church next Sunday.” Turning her back to him, she hurried out of there as fast as she could before her conscience caught up with her.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
After validating her belief that Mr. Downwater’s death was indeed a murder, Bert was ready to jump headfirst into the investigation. She had a few minor leads in mind, including the behavior of the mayor, her assistant, and her husband. Was it really possible that this was a love triangle gone wrong, or was there something more to this that Bert was missing? Driving a few blocks down into the very area she’d been in last night, Bert parked on the street outside the mayor’s apartment building.
Glancing at the front door, she let out a groan as she realized there was a cop standing there. Did that mean the apartment was still sealed off or was the cop there to guard the mayor herself?
There was only one way to find out. Grabbing the pecan pie from the back seat, Bert opened her car door and got out. As she walked across the street, she tried to put on her best—and most innocent—smile possible. “Morning, officer,” she greeted, ascending the steps.
Out of pure instinct, and clearly trying to keep a stone expression, the young cop held up a hand for her to stop. “Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t go in there.”
“I can’t?” she asked, trying to put on her best confused old lady voice.
“I have instructions to reduce the traffic in and out of the building as much as possible. There was a murder here last night,” he told her. “Unless you’re tenant or employee, I can’t let you by.”
Well, at least word was finally getting around about the murder. More than likely, the whole of the police force was made aware, either that, or they were simply treating it like a homicide case. Bert felt a little inner victory by being right about the situation all along. Another part of her also wondered if Mannor had known all along that it was a murder but had downplayed it for publicity’s sake. While it irritated her, she knew that it was the right choice. The detective didn’t get to be the head of the homicide division without having the streetwise and tact of a seasoned professional.
In any case, she needed to see the mayor in person. “Oh, poo. I was hoping to give the mayor a pie.”
The cop furrowed his brow. “A pie?”
“Yes, I know she was good friends with her assistant, and I thought maybe a good delicious slice of pie would cheer her up. I own the Pies and Pages shop. She’s a big fan, you know?” She added the little plug at the end to make it sound like she had a personal relationship with the woman.
“Oh, well that’s very sweet of you,” he said, breaking his stiff expression with a smile, clearly buying her little act.
“So, maybe you can give it to her for me?” she asked, trying her best to sound cooperative.
Twisting his lips to one side in thought, the cop held up a finger for her to wait. “Let me just call up to the apartment and see if she is willing to see anyone.”
“Thanks a million, hon,” she said, realizing she might be laying it on a little too thick.
He disappeared inside for a few seconds and stood next to the intercom, holding the button to talk. Moments later, he emerged. “Mayor Kreer says she’d be happy to have you bring it up yourself. You were right. She said she’s a big fan of your pies.”
Bert gave a wink. “Don’t I know it. Thank you so much.”
“No problem,” he replied with a beaming smile, his teeth nearly sparkling.
As Bert walked by him, she made a mental note of the name on his badge, so she could bring him a pie of his own at some point. She only hoped he didn’t get in trouble down the line for letting her in.
But the mayor had asked her to come in, hadn’t she?
Taking the elevator to the top floor, she stepped out and knocked on the penthouse door.
“Ah, Mrs. Hannah. How wonderful to see you,” Mayor Kreer greeted the pie shop owner after opening the door.
“Good morning.”
“Please, please. Come on in.” She stepped aside, holding out her arms in a welcoming gesture.
“Thank you,” Bert said, walking into the room. The apartment looked like it had never been touched since the night before. Drink cups, plates, bits of trash, and other debris scattered the room.
“I’m so sorry. You’ll have to excuse the mess. The police only turned the apartment back over to me about a half-hour ago, after they’d finished their sweep.” Instinctively, she started picking up napkins and other rubbish as she spoke.
“It’s not trouble at all. I completely understand.”
Sighing, Mayor Kreer stopped her clean-up process and shook her head. The redness on her cheeks was a sure sign of her exhaustion with the situation.
“I brought you a pie,” Bert noted, cutting into the tense energy in the air. She held out the pie for the mayor to inspect.
“Oh,
you’re a real dear. You didn’t have to do that.”
“No, I didn’t. However, I knew today was going to be trying for you, so I thought just a little sugar could help balance out the sourness.”
Smiling, the mayor puffed out her chest and then let out a whoosh of air, taking the pie off Bert’s hands. “Thank you. This will help. I have a press conference in an hour, and I’m not looking forward to it.” Walking over, she set the pie on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room.
“I bet this is very hard. I’d heard you were very close to your assistant.”
Mayor Kreer paused, her eyes looking off toward the balcony. “Yes. He was a true asset to me. Replacing him will be a chore at best.”
“Good help is hard to come by,” Bert agreed, walking over to stand in front of the cold fireplace. She wished there were some flames in it like the night before.
“I just don’t understand. I mean, who would want to kill him?”
“Wait a minute. You mean he was murdered?”
“That’s what Detective Mannor told me this morning when he called. I guess the autopsy showed that he was poisoned.”
It looked like Bert hadn’t needed to pay a visit to the morgue after all. “He just called you up and told you that?”
“Well, not directly, but he was asking a lot of follow up questions.”
“Wow, I’m sure that makes things even harder.”
“It does. I just don’t understand it.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Bert confided. “Anyway, I just came to drop off the pie. I hope you and your husband enjoy it.”
“Oh, Randy isn’t here.”
“He’s not?”
“No, he had a scheduled flight out of town early this morning for a technology convention. He’s a programmer.”
“Wait, he knew he had to get up early to fly out of town, but he stayed up late for the party?” Bert asked. There was something fishy about that whole set-up.
“That’s Randy for you. He was always willing to bend over backward to support me, to play the part of the good husband to a hard-working mayor.”
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