Poison & Pie

by Beth Byers

  “It’s more,” I said gently, “we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on. Aren’t you worried?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and then said, “Of course not! I haven’t done anything to get murdered over. That Murphy fellow got what was coming to him.”

  I was the one who stepped back at that. I couldn’t imagine truly believing it. No one deserved to be murdered. Maybe taken down a peg. Maybe have some serious doubts thrown on his business and his reviews—in fact he had definitely deserved that—but murdered? No.

  “He died of belladonna poisoning,” Zee said. “You have access to my gardens, and you were there.”

  “Both of you have access to your gardens, Zee. Both of you were there.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t have anything to lose and Rose is too nice to kill someone.”

  Martha’s mouth dropped and she asked, “Are you saying that I’m not? I wouldn’t murder someone! I wouldn’t even know how to kill someone.”

  Zee laughed meanly at that, and I didn’t blame her. I mean…I could guess you threw some belladonna in something he ate and let it take its course, but she said it so much more generic. Like she was too much of a princess to realize you could kill someone a multitude of ways. Everyone knew how to kill someone, it was part of being human and an adult. Maybe a kid could say that. But adults knew a half-dozen ways off the top of their heads. It wasn’t knowing how that made you good or bad. It was your willingness to kill.

  “This is why we aren’t friends,” Zee told Martha. “You’re too fake.”

  She gasped again and clutched her pearls again, and my eye twitched a little bit. For the love of all that was holy, why was she clutching her pearls like that? I could almost see the attempt with Simon or Carver—neither of whom would fall for it. But other women? Please.

  “How close are you to losing your place, Martha?” I asked the question gently. “We have some ideas about helping us all out with one of those big events like Lincoln City does with the glass floats.”

  Her eyes widened at that and I pushed on. She wasn’t going to tell us anything if she didn’t think she could get something out of us. “We were thinking of a town-wide Scavenger Hunt that focuses on the places around here. Discounts for those who use the codes. Maybe some bands to play. A whole long weekend thing. Something to fill us up and draw attention to our place. Maybe even a series of weekends.”

  She leaned forward, eyes entirely focused on me as she said, “I can’t really…um…”

  “It’s cool,” I interrupted. “We’ve found the financing for it already.”

  I did not explain I would be financing the prizes and I wouldn’t want her to know or most people. I just sketched the outline of our plan and then said, “I can’t really in good conscience move ahead while a murder investigation is underway. We want people to focus on the way our town is great and not on the way one of us could be killers. The media could take the entirely wrong turn with it all.”

  Martha leaned back, crossing her fingers in her lap. She was truly the most composed, lady-like woman I had ever met, and she made me feel like a goblin. My hair had never seemed frizzier, my makeup sloppier, or my clothes lazier. Did she do it on purpose…was she like…some grownup mean girl or was it entirely unintended? I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I questioned doing even that much given the way Zee was reacting to each of Martha’s little…maneuvers.

  “I’m pretty close to losing the B&B,” Martha said. “I should have waited a couple more years to have a bigger nest egg, but when this one came up for sale…it was everything I wanted.”

  I got that. I felt the same about The 2nd Chance Diner. I took a deep breath. I wanted to help her. I wanted to help the others too. I rubbed my brow as I considered, but we still had to wait until the murder was solved. We just had to. We could pull the wrong attention to our town otherwise.

  I took a deep breath and said, “We need to figure this out Martha. Can you tell us what you saw? Who was there? Any idea how someone got him and not the other judges? It must have been directed at him right? It couldn’t have been accident and meant for Carver or the librarian.”

  Zee growled at that and I glanced over. Her face was a study in fury at the very idea of someone hurting Carver, and I realized she had it bad for him. The sheer idea of it makes me so happy I want to jump up and down even though we’re talking about murder. What a strange dichotomy to realize that Zee’s flirting with Carver had uncovered…a crush? I grinned at her and she scowled back at me.

  “Martha when did you show up at the pie contest?”

  She rubbed her pearls over her mouth and considered for a moment. It wasn’t that hard of a question, and I wasn’t sure if she was going to answer or not.

  “We just need to know who saw what,” I said. “So we can narrow down a timeframe. Zee was just messing with you when she asked you if you killed him. We don’t think that.”

  Yet. I didn’t have any real thoughts about who would kill this guy. The truth was even though this was the third murder I’d been around I just didn’t think anything was worth killing over. Certainly not losing your business even if it was your dream.

  The thought of losing The 2nd Chance Diner made my heart freeze, but I still wouldn’t kill over it. I’d like to think that most of the human race would also not kill over something like that.

  “I got there just before you, I think,” Martha said. “I wasn’t watching the clock. I was worried I’d be late.”

  “Did you see anyone with the lemonade?” Zee asked. She was striving for a nice tone, and barely making it.

  “Oh no…did they have lemonade? Isn’t it usually just water and coffee?”

  It was, in fact. Which is why the lemonade was so important. Was she stupid?

  Martha’s eyes widened. “Did the lemonade kill him? I thought it was your pie, Rosemary.”

  I gritted my teeth at that. My pie? Really? What a shrew. I hadn’t assumed it was her pie. And hadn’t they tried hers in there? I hadn’t been paying attention, but the judges might have made the way through her pie too.

  I took a deep breath to control my reaction. My pie? Me the murderer? Why? For a bad review?

  “Rose isn’t going to lose her place over a bad review, Martha,” Zee said idly. “She doesn’t have a motive like you.”

  Martha gasped and jumped to her feet, stumbling for a second on those high heels of hers because she said, “I think it’s time you leave.”

  TWELVE

  “Well that was productive,” Rose said to Zee as they walked back to her little Subaru. “Maybe next we can try to get in some real questions before we accuse them of murder.”

  Zee snorted and then said, “She was never going to do anything but try to play us. Even if she isn’t the killer that’s all she does. Her whole place is an act. Her heels and her chignon. She doesn’t know how to be anything else.”

  I glanced over and then back to the road. Before I started the car, I messaged Simon. Zee saw what I was doing, and I knew he wouldn’t reciprocate. I didn’t care though. This was his job. And this was me getting played by Zee into accompanying her on this farce. With any luck, Simon would find the killer before too many days passed of the diner being affected.

  “Wuss,” Zee said.

  “You think Carver’s gonna let you get away with this stuff when you’re together?”

  I grinned when she just snorted.

  “He’s more…um….”

  “Alpha dog, head of the pack?” Zee asked filling in for me.

  “He’s more head of the pack than Simon,” I said, using her word choice, but we both knew what she meant. The thing was…Zee was the head of the pack too. She ran the diner even though it was mine. “He’s not going to be all thrilled with his girlfriend trying to solve his cases. Simon doesn’t love it, and…you know…head of the pack, etcetera”

  “I’m not you, Rosie,” Zee said, laughing ta me. She knew I’d thought the same thing. Zee got her own way
in my own diner. I wasn’t the boss, but it never mattered. It didn’t matter to me now. She’d been working in a diner for years and years when I’d bought it. I was lucky to have her and I wasn’t so arrogant I couldn’t see that for myself.

  “I know, but…Carver’s not Simon. You should debate in your head how much it’s worth it to you to mess with his cases when he cares about you. Because if the fire between you guys is real, you’ll be a couple before long.”

  “Martha Sloane has her eye on him,” Zee said idly. “Has had for a while. You know there aren’t so many bachelors our age.”

  I did know that. I also knew that Zee had dated all of them.

  “Who are we talking to next?”

  “The assistant of course,” Zee said. “She wouldn’t have killed the troll. She doesn’t have any reason to unless he did more than just assault her with his eyes. And she doesn’t have any reason to lie.”

  “But why would she tell you anything?” I asked. Zee was confident, and honestly, people did tell her things. Just like Martha—Zee had gone in accusing her of murder, and Martha had answered the questions.

  “Used to babysit her back when she was little,” Zee said idly.

  “We need to talk to Lyle first,” I said after thinking about it for a few minutes. “We need to figure out what was happening with him at the food truck, and we need to fact check him with Martha.”

  I messaged Simon that we were trying to hunt down Lyle and then threw the phone into my purse in the back of my car.

  Zee was reading the review of Lyle’s food truck, and it was next level vicious for Murphy Jesse. He made fun of Lyle—his Mom who worked the truck with him—and their food. He mocked everything from the menu, to the ingredients, to the wait times.

  The comments were even worse, and my guess over Murphy egging them on was right on. He’d forgotten to change his User ID for some of them, and those were talking about…well…the size of Lyle’s mother’s bottom and her hair. Her accent. Her breeding. She was an immigrant from somewhere in South America, and when I read what he said in the comments…well..if someone had said that about my Mama, I’d have considered murder too.

  “Belladonna was too good for the troll,” I told Zee.

  “He needed, at the least, to have his fingernails and man parts removed,” Zee growled. “I don’t…I can’t…I mean…I’m not a nice person very often, and I would never say these things.”

  “Do you know where Lyle is staying?” I asked Zee.

  “No, but this references that his food truck is outside of his place. And…Rose…I know that area. There’s a mini-poison garden there. For gardeners who like things like that…you know where they are.”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want the killer to be Lyle. I liked him, dang it.

  “He chatted with Az and Maddie for a while,” I said. “Text them and see if they know where he is.”

  Az responded with the name of a hotel, and we headed over there. I suspected he would message Simon, so I didn’t bother. Lyle was a pretty good guy, even if he was a killer. I didn’t think he’d hurt Zee or I. But even now, I didn’t think he’d have hurt the troll. Which didn’t make a bit of sense since I felt like I could have killed over the things that Murphy Jesse has said if he said the same about my mother.

  The Oceanside Cabanas were not cabanas at all. It was one of those motels with the door on the outside and a grungy exterior. When we walked into the lobby to ask for Lyle’s room, the carpeting was stained and worn, and the counter was chipped.

  “Can I help you?” The girl at the desk said. She snapped her bubble gum and flipped her hair. “Zee?”

  “Hey there Emmie, you know which room has the group of Portland hipsters? They’ve been here a few days.”

  The girl examined Zee and then said, “You’re supposed to know their names.”

  “Lyle is one of them.” Zee’s gaze was focused on the girl as though she were silently ordering her to just give us the information. The girl flinched.

  “I need this job.”

  “The diner is hiring,” Zee said.

  “You have to actually work at the diner. I just sit here. I have a few online classes, and I can do them at work.”

  “Give us the information,” Zee said. “Or I’ll call your grandma.”

  Emmie flinched again and then snarled back at Zee. She only laughed though and tapped her nails against the countertop.

  “One-twenty-eight,” she said. “I didn’t tell you. I won’t admit to it, and I’ll call my grandma if you lose me my job.”

  “Like I’m scared of your grandma,” Zee said turning to leave, but Emmie got the last shot.

  “She’s real excited bout me going to college, and she knows all your secrets, Zee!”

  I laughed at that and said, “It’s always nice to see someone who isn’t afraid of Zee. You should consider the diner.”

  Emmie scoffed at that and went back to her textbook.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you knew their room number off the top of your head, Emmie Mcallister. Your Grandma would find that real interesting.”

  I had to look back and saw the girl’s mouth open and cheeks furiously blushing.

  “You’re bad Zee.”

  “She’s a good kid. She probably just has a crush.”

  Zee marched up to the door where Lyle was staying and slammed her fist against it. Bam, bam, bam. I was surprised when he answered. But he did. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. He was wearing a pair of ragged pajamas pants and a holey t-shirt.

  “What…”

  “What happened to you?” I asked. It hadn’t been that long since we’d left the diner. He’d looked perfectly fine then.

  He flinched at the question and then I caught the scent of him.

  “How much have you drank?”

  “Um…” He coughed and then said, “A lot.”

  “I read an interesting article about you,” I said.

  He flinched again.

  “Murphy didn’t say anything nice about your Mama,” Zee added.

  He didn’t flinch at that. He growled. Then he said, “My mom is amazing. She didn’t deserve that. She cried over that stupid article.”

  “What did you do about it though?” I asked. My gaze met his, and this time he frowned.

  “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you mean. I…”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time around The 2nd Chance Diner…”

  “You make good food,” Lyle said. He seemed almost flabbergasted. “Really good food. And you guys are funny. I…well…I liked you.”

  “I like you too,” I admitted.

  “But not like you, like you. She like likes Simon,” Zee said, and I smacked her arm.

  “He’s way too young,” I told her and then shook my head at Lyle. “Listen…someone killed Murphy Jesse. You were there. You have a motive. Even I want to kill him after he talked about your mom’s…origins.”

  “I did want to kill him,” Lyle said. “But I’m not a killer. That’s why I came to Silver Falls. I’m not here to kill someone. I’m here to get a handle on my life. I’m…like…introspecting and…stuff.”

  I pushed Lyle and moved into his room. It was empty, and there weren’t any signs of his friends still staying there. I sat in the chair, because I certainly wasn’t going to sit on his bed and I said, “Lyle…you have to realize you’re a suspect in this murder.”

  He looked back and forth between Zee and I and then he said, “But you guys aren’t the police. What are you are doing here? Why aren’t your boyfriends the ones here?”

  “Me and Rose are the crack detectives of Silver Falls,” Zee told Lyle. “We’re Murder She Wrote plus Perry Mason. We’d give Criminal Minds a run for their money. So don’t sidestep. You had access to the poison. You have a motive. You had the chance, you were there.”

  “So were you,” Lyle said. He shoved his hand through his hair and poured himself another drink, but Zee took it from him.

 
“Enough of that, kid. You need us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have all the pickings of the murderer, so tell me why you didn’t do it.”

  He stared at Zee and realized she was serious. He looked a little hurt, I thought, and I didn’t want it to be him. I didn’t want it to be anyone. I wanted Murphy Jesse to be alive, so I could crush him for what he’d done to Lyle and his mom and Martha and what he wanted to do to The 2nd Chance Diner. He was such a jerk. How could I teach him a lesson about humanity and how to behave if he was dead?

  “Because I wouldn’t,” Lyle said. “My mama would beat me within an inch of my life and then she’d cry. I’d never do that to Mama.”

  THIRTEEN

  “I believe it,” I told Zee.

  “He’s still answering our questions. We have to figure out who did it even if you want to believe this bull hockey.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “When did you get to the contest?”

  Lyle hesitated before he answered, “As soon as it opened.”

  “Did you see who put up the table and set out the drinks and stuff?” Zee didn’t mention the lemonade and Lyle didn’t know that it was the lemonade that had killed Murphy. We didn’t really either, but I thought Zee was right and given the way that Simon and Carver had taken her comments, I figured the theory had enough merit to pursue.

  “The assistant girl did it,” Lyle said.

  “The coffee and the water and the lemonade? Or just part of it? What about the pies?”

  Lyle screwed up his face a bit and said, “She had that rack thing for the pies. She took the submissions and cut them and got them ready….”

  “What about the drinks? Did she have help? That’s a lot of stuff to set up,” I said idly as though I didn’t really care and was just trying to get a handle on it.

  “Oh…she did the coffee first and someone helped her with that. The guy with the square glasses.”

  I didn’t know who he meant but Zee didn’t ask any other questions about that person, so I crossed my fingers she knew who Lyle meant.