Poison & Pie

by Beth Byers

  I blinked because I wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so all I did was say, “Ok.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Ok,” I said. I was poleaxed and I could admit that to myself. I didn’t know how to reply, so I stated making my bourbon whipped cream and browned butter frosting drizzles for my pies and took a deep breath and then another. In and out. I was afraid that money would change things. The home I’d found here. I didn’t think the money actually would change anything, but I wasn’t sure, and anxiety was rising like a beast in my stomach, at the back of my head, and racing through my veins all the same. I just loved The 2nd Chance Diner, Silver Falls, and my family here so much. Losing that would make any further ‘chances’ lackluster.

  “Simon loves you because of how you are kind, generous, and you don’t have a motive with him. That and how you fell for all those dogs. You can tell him everything.” She didn’t sound like herself at all. Caring and not a bit of an edge to her voice. My eyes might have filled up with shining tears. “Ya big dork,” she snarled, and I laughed.

  It was a bit of a watery laugh, and I took a step back before I admitted to her, “I don’t know why I have to keep doubting things. I hate that about me.”

  I didn’t know why it was so easy for me to confide in her. There was something about how she was so openly herself—sort of a mix of crotchety and kind—that made it easier.

  “I already told you,” she snarled. “You’re a wuss.”

  I slammed the fridge door on the last of my pies and said, “You’re a nasty old woman who will be eaten by her cats.”

  Zee’s lips twitched at that before she said, “Time to woman up and go talk to that man of yours. Knowing him, he’s making you something healthy and delicious to counteract whatever we fed him for lunch.”

  * * * * *

  I got a message from Zee that said we could have the conference room at the Lion’s Club for our plans with the other merchants. Once she got them talking, there was a lot of people who came forward to mention they’d been threatened-offered the same deal. I was in something of a rage when I reached Simon’s house. It was high on the bluff, off a logging, road, with wide porches, amazing views, and the sound of the three puppies greeting Mama Dog and Daisy made me smile. Simon’s old lab and Daisy’s litter-buddy Duke was there as well.

  I went inside without knocking, though I was sure he knew I’d arrived given the chorus of excited yapping from our dogs.

  “Hi,” he said as I walked inside. The living room with its leather sofa and love seat was dark, and I could see he’d been sitting in the dark. I’d have been worried if I didn’t know he often sat in the dark. He liked the quiet after the day. I like snuggling up with him more than once. There was a sunroof over the living room and you could see the stars through the glass.

  “Hi,” I said. I hesitated because I was a wuss and I’d somehow fallen in love. There was so much more to lose when you cared about someone. “So…”

  I paused because he didn’t say anything. He was just waiting patiently. There was, however, a soft look in his eyes, and I suddenly knew it would be ok. So I curled up on the couch next to him, with my head on his shoulder, and I told him how my estranged grandparents died before I moved to Silver Falls and left me an unexpected fortune which I used to buy my diner and get started in Silver Falls.

  “Ok,” was all he said. But then he tangled his fingers with mine and lifted my hand to his lips to kiss my fingertips.

  “You don’t care that I didn’t tell you?”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead and then said, “I could see how it would be awkward later. Oh, by the way love, I have a big old account balance from my grandparents.”

  “It just never came up.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” he said. “I don’t care about the money except to appreciate that your heart isn’t obsessed with it.”

  He stood and yanked me up after him, pulling me into his body and then said, “I marinated some tuna steaks. I have asparagus all seasoned.”

  I grinned as he pulled me to his oversized kitchen. I wasn’t surprised to see the grill already running or the food ready to go. I sat down on my favorite stool next to the counter and watched as he grilled up our dinner. He’d already opened a bottle of wine and plates were already sitting on the bar, ready to go.

  The dog food was dished up for the furry kids, so I fed them, poured the wine, and took a moment to appreciate the perfectness of the evening.

  SIX

  We’d gotten Maddie to cover for us, so we could see the taste testing today. Zee had something up her sleeve because her face was positively alight with mischief. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to walk in next to her given how her eyes were glinting.

  “What are you up to?” I asked.

  She shook her head, but her lips twitched. When we walked into the Lion’s Club, I noticed several reporters which was weird, but then I saw two of them nod to Zee. The table with the judges was set up and someone was just pouring cups of coffee, berry lemonade, and ice water. Simon had come as well, and he stood at the back of the room, in a uniform which he often didn’t wear, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Did you get him to come?” I asked Zee.

  Simon looked handsome. All tall and official. Usually he wore a sort of business casual, but the uniform was ridiculously attractive. I hadn’t thought I was intrigued by men in uniforms until the days when Simon needed one here and there. Then, I realized that uniforms were something to be appreciated.

  She followed my gaze, shook her head, but didn’t stop. Her hands were full of pie boxes as were mine. I hadn’t made as many to donate this time, but I figured I could just make a cash donation, so I didn’t feel too guilty about being frustrated. I had put together a calendar for when people could come into The 2nd Chance Diner to try one of my or Zee’s entries. And, I was not at all unhappy to see them being snatched up.

  It took about 20 minutes for the pies to be set up. While I sat back and watched, Zee moved around, talking to the judges, laughing with a friend who I hadn’t met. They talked like old pals. Simon stayed at the back watching everything. What was he looking for? Why wasn’t he sitting with me? I wasn’t jealous so much as just wondering what he was up to.

  Our hipster friends were at the contest too and Lyle was snapping a pic of the calendar for The 2nd Chance Diner even though his friends were looking at him like he was crazy. They were probably leaving soon or something. I was a little sad at that. He moaned over my meatloaf, so I had to love just a little bit.

  He nodded at me and crossed over when he said, “I can’t wait to try today’s pie. Caramelized Bourbon Pumpkin Pie sounds amazing.”

  It would be. I’d made a brown butter frosting and caramel sauce to drizzle over the top. Bourbon whipped cream and added bourbon to the pie itself. It was pumpkin pie, but escalated. It was rich and unique and tasted like a dream. I thought it might be my favorite pie. Therefore, I expected to be the one singled out by Murphy Jesse today. User of his position to ruin people’s lives. Working his way into a job that he should not be working. I hated the man, and I was surprised to realize that. But I did. I actually hated him.

  I watched as the pies were sliced by the mayor’s assistant. The pieces were slid onto little plates and placed in front of each of the judges. The lemonade was a new touch, and a bit weird, I thought. Berry lemonade was amazing, but hardly a palette cleanser. Murphy, however, was downing it. I wasn’t even sure he enjoyed it so much as he enjoyed making the mayor’s assistant refill his glass. Jenny Harrington was lovely, young, and her blouse was low cut.

  He had a little white bag on the table next to him and a notebook. He didn’t really take notes though. I bet he didn’t even care who he gave a good score to and who he gave a bad score to.

  Carver, Simon’s boss, ignored everything but the coffee. As the elected sheriff of the town, he was well known and a good choice. His name was Carver Jones and he was closer to retirement than not with the body
of man who’d worked hard his whole life. He wasn’t trim, given his age, but he moved with strength. I liked him. He grinned a lot and the cops around here, respected him. That told me a lot about him.

  The way he guzzled coffee told me he was a multiple pot a day man. Simon drank a lot of coffee, and he said his boss was far worse.

  The major, Roberta, leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs under her pencil skirt, and took a slow sip. She set her cup down and gave me a disdainful glance. I didn’t react at all. I didn’t mind how she felt about me. I knew she didn’t like me. She had a history with Simon that she’d hoped would reignite, but then I’d come along….and something powerful was growing between him and I instead. I felt sorry for her in the way where you knew you’d never give up what they wanted while understanding why they wanted what you had.

  The other judges were the town’s librarian who eschewed the lemonade for plain coffee, the head of the Lion’s Club who didn’t touch anything,. Carver was the one who got started first taking a bite of something that looked like lemon meringue. I wasn’t a fan of lemon. You never knew if you’d be getting sweet or tart with lemon creations. They were always a gamble, and I wasn’t a fan of tart or sour.

  There were 11 entrants for the contest and each day we submitted a new pie, so they had to try 11 pieces. Carver was reasonable about it. He took a simple bite of the first, made a note, took a sip of water, and worked his way through each of them. The mayor, Roberta, took even less of a bite. A little nibble. She didn’t seem like she enjoyed one single bite. The librarian was slower, but she was chatting with the girl who was there to fill drinks and laughing about something or other.

  Murphy Jesse, I did not bother to watch. I didn’t like him. I didn’t want to see him scowl over the pies that people made. It just made me so mad. It was so supposed to be this fun thing. You enter the pies, you joke and try, and put your heart into something you love. That was it. Maybe you were the best baker—like Zee—but even if you weren’t, you indulged your passion for baking with others who loved it too.

  Murphy stupid Jesse was ruining the fun. Had ruined it. I hadn’t enjoyed making those pumpkin pies even though I’d loved creating the recipe. I sighed and let curiosity have her way with me. Slowly, I turned to see him try Zee’s pie. She’d made something with hazelnuts and apples that had smelled amazing. If I hadn’t been anxious to get to Simon the night before, I might have begged for a still warm slice.

  He took a bite of her pie, his mouth screwed up and he shoved it to the side. Simon’s boss, Carver, scowled as the pie came crashing into his portion of the table and whatever he said to Murphy had his face flushing with anger. The two of them stared at each other, but Carver looked away first. He wasn’t stared down my Murphy Jesse. Quite the opposite. I was almost positive Carver glanced away to keep himself from doing something illegal in front of an audience. He was, after all, the sheriff.

  Murphy slid my pie in front of him. Right before he did, he lifted his glass of lemonade, met my gaze and then paused. There was something in his look that was an utter challenge, and I almost wanted to step back from it. It wasn’t so much that I was intimidated as I was just shocked.

  “Don’t you move an inch,” Zee said next to me under her breath. It was low enough that only I could hear her, but I didn’t look her way. I knew if I did, Murphy Jesse would be able to claim that he’d stared me down too. First Carver—though that would only be a win in Murphy Jesse’s life from his own view. Every other person who’d seen that exchange would have noticed how the old police man’s shoulders were tense, his jaw was clenched, and his fingers were white against his cup.

  “This,” Murphy Jesse told me after barely tasting my pie. “Is the most vile…”

  He coughed.

  Zee snorted and someone next to us echoed it. I saw Martha Sloane there and smiled at her.

  “…Vile…” His tirade against my pie was cut short as he coughed again. I’d been prepared for it, but I hadn’t expected him to choke on the pie. He really should have waited to swallow before he started to tear me down. I noted the sweat on his forehead and wondered if he were actually choking. I realized in that moment that I would not be giving him mouth-to-mouth no matter what. It made me feel like I were killing him even though he was alive in front of me.

  He tried again, “The most vile concoc…hharg…huh…hach…cugh…”

  I looked at Zee and asked, “He’s talking. That means he’s not choking right?”

  I wasn’t being flippant. He was just acting so weird. I truly thought he must be choking, but that didn’t seem right. I glanced around and noticed shock and concern on more faces than my own. As I started to ask Zee if we should help him, the lights went out and a projection was of one of Murphy’s threatening offers was placed on the wall behind him.

  “Shut up,” I whispered and then to Zee, “Was this you?”

  Of course it was her. The blackmail letter was addressed to her, she’d been smirking, she had gotten Simon and reporters here. She’d been planning shenanigans without me. I wasn’t sure I was ok with that, I almost felt left out. Murphy Jesse hacked into his fist as Carver stood and turned to read the projection. His shadow blocked the view for everyone else, but it wasn’t like I needed to read it again. I’d perused my two letters too many times as it was.

  “Is this real?” Carver asked Murphy.

  But he didn’t respond. He was still hacking into his hand. Finally, Murphy reached for his water and knocked it over, flooding the folding table with his water. He tried again and shoved his coffee cup off the end of the table. It crashed onto the wood floors and I found myself gasping. He finally clutched the lemonade and downed it in huge gulps but that seemed to make things even worse. His eyes rolled back and I stared in utter and complete shock when he fell forward onto the table. It couldn’t really bear the weight of the man. It was clear he made his living eating and his over-sized form slid off the table and onto the ground.

  I stood like most everyone who had been sitting when we saw him fall. His eyes were staring, and I gasped, stepping back. It was ok, I told myself, Simon was rushing forward and Carver was cursing under his breath as he flipped Murphy Jesse over. Someone turned the lights back on and one of the other contestants screamed.

  I was just glad that Simon and Carver were involved. If Murphy had really choked on my pie one of them would do the mouth-to-mouth thing, thank goodness. I didn’t have to feel bad. They were like…first responders. It was their deal to do that kind of thing. I was feeling a bit cold hearted at the thought, but I really, really didn’t like Murphy Jesse.

  Neither of them did. Instead Carver frowned an then put two fingers to the neck of Murphy Jesse. Martha Sloane who was standing next to Zee gasped as I did. Zee, however, cursed under her breath.

  “Oh…my…” I did not want it to be what it was. I did not want to…my gaze met Zee’s, but she’d already pulled out her phone. I could hear her calling the clinic and demanding Jane. It was just across the street. Someone else gasped when Carver closed Murphy’s eyes and it took me a moment to realize it was me.

  Why was this happening? Ok, Rose, I told myself. This could be a stroke. Or a…aneurism. Or…I didn’t know. I just didn’t want my beloved Silver Falls to be tainted with another murder. I glanced around, met the gaze of the hipster who was halfway through my pie and looking sick.

  “Is he dead?” I asked Zee already knowing the answer. We watched as Jane ran up the aisle with someone behind her carrying an emergency bag.

  Jane dropped to her knees, and her face didn’t look all that promising. I didn’t watch. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want something to be emblazoned on my mind as I fell asleep.

  Zee answered for me anyway, “Oh, he’s dead.”

  SEVEN

  We went back to the diner. Lyle and his friends followed us, which was weird, but I think he saw Simon talking to us before we left, and I think Lyle must have wanted to know what was going on. We were back to real
life soap operas, and I bet he wanted the details. I wasn’t sure I blamed him. If this were the call center and I’d realized that someone had been murdered in the atrium or something like that, I’d have been curious too. But the more distance I got from the fake world of call centers and corporations, the more I realized that year-end profits and machinations in management are…terrible ways to weigh success.

  Ways to weigh successes should be in the good we do, the positive we make, the love we share. I sounded like a greeting card, but I didn’t care. I was in the safety of my head, and I could be cheesy there. I let Lyle and his friends in and flipped the sign to closed. Zee and I went into the grove of helping serve up the last of the customers. I walked a pie over to Lyle and company and handed them the whole thing with a stack of plates. We weren’t actually serving people right then other than those who’d come in on good terms for food, but I didn’t really care if someone ate the pie I’d already made for the diner. I saved a pumpkin one for Simon, they could have the standard apple I made every day.

  Zee filled in Az while I explained to Maddie and Roxy about what had happened. Roxy’s jaw dropped and she had to sit down and breathe with her face against her knees while Maddie simply cursed and then said, “Karma.”

  “It’s not karma when it’s murder,” I said softly.

  I wanted it to be karma but that the universe aligning the balance not murder. Murder was when someone took matters into their own hands. And there was that thing I didn’t want to think about…he’d died over my plate of pie. Would Carver make Simon focus on me as the killer? How many times was I going to be a murder suspect? And if Simon did have to focus on me, would what we were building fall apart?

  I took a deep breath. I’d spent the days before Murphy Jesse died trying to counteract what he was going to do to the town. But now…I wouldn’t need to. I wouldn’t need to spend the money, I wouldn’t need to organize a scavenger hunt and music festival. I wouldn’t need to throw money after other people’s businesses. His death saved me a lot of money. It was, I reminded myself, money I didn’t have to spend anyway. But…maybe that was a motive? It didn’t feel like one. I wouldn’t have murdered over a bad review or even to keep The 2nd Chance Diner.