Live and Let Pie

by Ellie Alexander

  “What are we doing here?” I said to him. Anna was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know if that meant she had decided to trust us or that she was waiting for us in the next room with her gun at the ready.

  “I don’t know.” Lance hung his head. “This is a disaster. And shockingly sad.”

  “I know.” I was glad to hear that he was finally seeing the flawed logic in our sleuthing plans.

  “How has she survived like this?” He pressed the palm of his hand under his nose. “The stench is starting to get to me.”

  “I think she needs help.”

  “Obviously.” He cleared his throat and tried to wave away the odor with his free hand. “Who would we call? Didn’t you say that Thomas and the authorities have already been here?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean she let them inside. The exterior is in poor shape, but I’m sure that if Thomas saw these living conditions he would have done something.”

  Lance stifled a gag. “Let’s go. I can’t fake it for a minute longer. We’ll have to find another way to learn what we can about George. If I don’t get some fresh air stat I’m going to lose my lunch.”

  I didn’t argue. Once we were back outside, Lance drew in a long breath. He was about to say something when Anna appeared in the door frame. She had a shotgun slung over her shoulder.

  My heartrate spiked.

  “Juliet, get that shot.” Lance tittered. “Oh, I do crack myself up sometimes. Shot? Get it?”

  He moved toward Anna. Panic pulsed through my body. What was he doing? “Do you mind if we get a picture of you with the gun? It’s so very Wild West.”

  Anna shrugged.

  Lance whipped his head in my direction. “The picture, Juliet.”

  I pretended like I knew what I was doing. Fortunately, I’d watched Bethany frame dozens of photos at Torte. I stood on my tiptoes to shoot at an angle from above.

  “Excellent. Do you have a few minutes to spare? We’d like to do a quick interview.”

  Deep crevasses lined her forehead. “You didn’t even see the whole place. There’s a lot of good stuff in the back and out in the barn. You want me to show you?”

  My senses were on high alert. Why did she want to show us the barn? So she could shoot us?

  Knock it off, Jules.

  What was wrong with me? Lance’s crazy suspicions were getting the best of me. I needed to stay calm and focus.

  “We’ve seen what we need to for the moment.” Lance’s words were as smooth as butter.

  “Fine. You want to sit?” Anna pointed to rotting rocking chairs on the far end of the porch.

  “That would be lovely.” Lance led the way.

  The decaying wood sagged as I sat down.

  Anna’s chair creaked as she rocked back and forth. “What do you want to know?”

  Lance began by asking her some basic history of her family and how they came to be one of the biggest land preservers in the valley.

  As Thomas had mentioned, Anna remembered things about her early life in pristine detail—from strawberry picking in some of the region’s first farms to her first teacher’s name. The sun began to sink, casting a honeylike glow on the front grass as she recalled stories of digging a swimming hole behind her family’s homestead and big outings to Sears for school shoes in the fall.

  Finally, Lance shifted the conversation to George. “Please stop me if this is too painful to talk about, but one of the things we might want to touch on in the interview is your brother George. He went missing when the lake was expanded. Is that right?”

  Anna’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t go missing. He was murdered.”

  Lance threw his hand over his forehead. “What? Do tell.”

  Anna rocked her chair faster. “I already told the police. George was murdered.”

  “Do you know who killed him?” I asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, but I know he was murdered.”

  “Did it have anything to do with Edgar?” Lance caught my eye and made a slicing motion across his neck.

  Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. “How did you know about Edgar?”

  “Research, dearest.” Lance stood. “We must be off. Will you be available tomorrow to discuss specifics? I’d like to spend at least a few hours with you. Plus we’ll need to get you in hair and makeup, and have our costume designer find something from the period to put you in. I’m thinking covered-wagon era. We’ll re-enact your grandparents’ westward migration. I can have a car pick you up. Shall we say three o’clock?”

  Anna scratched her head. “What are you talkin’ about, a car?”

  Lance rested his hand on her shoulder which made her flinch. “Yes, you’ll be treated with the height of luxury. I’ll send a car, complete with some snacks and warm drinks for your travels.”

  “What kind of warm drink?” Anna arched her eyebrow.

  “Whatever your heart desires. Tea? Coffee?”

  “How about gin?”

  Lance chuckled. “Why, of course. Gin it is.”

  Anna still didn’t look convinced, but she gave him a nod.

  “Excellent. A car with a bottle of my best gin will be here at three o’clock on the dot. My driver will bring you to Ashland where we can have a lovely chat. Sound good?”

  Anna scowled. “I guess.”

  “Wonderful. Wonderful. See you tomorrow.” He practically dragged me off the porch. Once we had backed out of the driveway and turned onto the gravel road that led to the main highway, he exhaled. “The first order of business when I get back to the office is a scalding shower.”

  “Lance, what was all that about your car and driver? You don’t have a driver.”

  “Details, darling. Details. I’ll send an Uber to pick up Anna or send my personal assistant. Actually, yes, I’ll send my assistant since Anna would like a bottle of gin.” He shuddered.

  “Come to think of it,” he continued. “I quite like the idea of a living history production. Can’t you see it? The halls of OSF draped in the pictures of our past. A look at how we’ve come full circle. Sometimes the best ideas strike spontaneously, don’t they?”

  “I guess.” My skin was sticky with sweat. I couldn’t wait to take a long, cool shower.

  Lance sounded put out. “You of all people should agree with that assessment. I have it on good authority that the pastry muse strikes you at the most random and often inconvenient times.”

  “You’re not really going to write up a contract for her, are you?” I changed the subject.

  He frowned. “Hardly. No. You and I have work to do before tomorrow afternoon. I will spend the evening digging up anything I can in the theater’s archives about the Mill family. I need you to call that boyishly handsome detective friend of yours and his siren of a partner. We need to stage an intervention for that poor woman immediately.”

  “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

  “Exactly. The minute we arrive in town, track down Thomas or Detective Kerry and fill them in.”

  “Okay.”

  “After we get her cleaned up and sort through the filth in her house I’m quite convinced that Anna Mill has some serious secrets to spill.”

  “Nice rhythm.”

  “It happens without even trying, my dear.” Lance winked. “But seriously, we have a deal, yes?”

  “Yeah, but why did you cut me off? We were just getting to the good stuff.”

  “I know. Many apologies, but we need this on film. Anna is a broken woman. She’s warming to us. Trust me. If we ever want Thomas and Detective Kerry to take us seriously we need proof. What better proof would there be than getting Anna on film? She knows who killed her brother and we are going to be the ones who uncover that.”

  We drove in silence for a while. I hoped Lance was right. I felt terrible leaving Anna in the state she was in.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  True to my word, I called Thomas after Lance dropped me off at Torte. He promised he would stop by when he finished his shift. While I waited,
I decided to experiment with dessert options for our Sunday Supper. I knew that Sterling and Marty were planning to prepare a few of their new frozen custards to share with the guests, but since part of our motivation would be getting feedback on our soon-to-debut custards, I wanted to offer something to pair with them. An ice-cream treat called for something crunchy. I knew just the thing—cookies.

  I headed for the basement. I would bake three cookie varieties, one to accompany each of the custards. For the strawberry, lime, and basil, I would make a vanilla crunch cookie, for the lemon, a gingersnap, and for the chocolate, a lacy oatmeal cookie.

  I started with the oatmeal lace cookies because they were a favorite of mine. Their name originates from their baking process. The dough spreads as the cookies bake, causing it to bubble, which in turn creates tiny holes in the cookies—much like a lacy doily. I creamed butter and brown sugar together in the mixer. Next, I added eggs, vanilla, and a touch of salt. These cookies didn’t require a leavening agent. The goal in baking them was to keep them as flat and crispy as possible. Once the batter was smooth I incorporated flour and rolled oats. They would bake for six minutes until they turned a lovely golden brown.

  My recipe made dozens upon dozens of cookies. Some cookies are meant to be warm, right from the oven, but not these. They are best when they’ve had a chance to cool and become crisp. As I removed trays from the oven, I placed them on cooling racks. With a nice rest overnight, they should be perfect come morning.

  Before I could start on the next batch, I heard a knock upstairs and went to answer it, holding a tray of cookies in one hand. Thomas and Detective Kerry had both come. I was shocked to see Detective Kerry in a pair of jeans and a red V-neck T-shirt. She had rolled the cuffs of her jeans over her ankles and wore a pair of red checkered Chuck Taylors. Her auburn curls hung loose. She looked like a completely different person.

  “Wow, you look…” I paused for a minute trying to find the right word. Detective Kerry was beautiful, but she was typically so buttoned up that she gave off an almost unapproachable vibe. “Relaxed,” I finally said, resting the cookies on the coffee bar.

  She tossed her hair. “Oh this? I’m working undercover.”

  “In Ashland?”

  “Don’t you think she can pass for a grad student at SOU?” Thomas asked.

  Detective Kerry shot him a look.

  “I won’t blow your cover,” I promised. What was Detective Kerry doing undercover at SOU?

  She didn’t offer more.

  Thomas headed straight for the cooling cookies. “Is this what smells so good? I swear I think you guys pipe the scent of your delicious baking onto the plaza to lure us in.” He pointed to a lace cookie. “Can I?”

  “Please. Help yourself. You too, Detective Kerry.”

  I figured she would refuse, but she took two. “Are these lace cookies? My mom used to bake these every Christmas. My brother and I would eat an entire plate. They’re caramel, right?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Detective Kerry and I finally had a point of connection? It had only taken a few months. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; I had initially greeted her with a box of jelly doughnuts which she had also taken a liking to. “You’re right, they have a very caramellike taste and texture. That comes from the butter and brown sugar, which are the basic building blocks for caramel. I love the combination of the crispiness of the oats and the taffylike texture of the caramel.”

  She bit into a chewy cookie and closed her eyes. “This is exactly how I remember them.”

  “I can give you the recipe. They’re super easy to make.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want me anywhere near a kitchen. I can’t bake.”

  Thomas nudged her waist. “That’s one strike against you.”

  She chewed the cookie. “Just one? Wait until you really get to know me.”

  Their playful banter was fun to watch. Detective Kerry was definitely loosening up under Thomas’s and the Professor’s influence. And I could tell by Thomas’s eager gaze that he was smitten with Kerry.

  “Anytime you have a childhood craving, come by and I’ll whip up a batch for you. I’m serious that they are one of the easiest cookies to bake.”

  She twisted her hair into a high ponytail. To my surprise she had on a pair of doughnut-shaped earrings. “I might have to take you up on that, especially if I have to hang out on campus with the coeds much longer.”

  “Hey, where did you get those?” I asked.

  “My earrings?” She massaged her earlobe. “Thomas gave them to me.”

  Thomas’s cheeks swelled pink. “A friend of my mom’s makes them. I know Kerry’s a big doughnut fan, so I thought she might like them.”

  Ashland was such a small world sometimes. “I have a pair like them myself. They look good on you.”

  “Thanks.” Detective Kerry smiled.

  I knew it was futile to ask what her assignment on campus was, but I hoped her presence at SOU didn’t mean that the students were in any danger. Steph and Andy (at least for the time being) both took classes at the university and Stephanie lived in the dorms.

  Thomas chomped on a cookie. “So what’s the scoop? You mentioned something about Anna Mill on the phone.”

  We went and sat in the dining area. I told them about how Lance and I had taken a day trip to Anna’s house and described the living conditions inside.

  “Wait one minute.” Thomas clicked off his iPad. “Are you telling us that you and Lance entered Ms. Mill’s home under false pretenses?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” I could hear how feeble my reply sounded.

  “This is a murder investigation,” Detective Kerry replied.

  “I know. You’re right. We should have left it alone, but you know how Lance gets. And quite honestly, I’m just as bad. I promise I’ll encourage him to tell Anna the truth, but isn’t there something you can do about her house?”

  Thomas scrolled through a file on his screen. “The fact that you two busted into her house isn’t going to help us.”

  Detective Kerry shook her head. “Nope.”

  I felt terrible. I shouldn’t have let my curiosity get the better of me. “Not busted. We simply said we were doing research for a living history performance, which I think is true, by the way.”

  “We’re going to have to pass this over to social services. Adult protective services will allow you to place an anonymous tip. They can then send an investigator to assess the situation and interview Anna Mill.”

  “Why anonymous?” I asked.

  “You can use your name if you want. Ask them, but I think they prefer to keep reporters anonymous for personal safety issues. Of course since you and Lance were the last people to visit Anna, unless she’s not with it mentally, she’ll probably figure out that you reported her.”

  “That’s okay. I’m willing to risk that. I’m willing to have a conversation with her. This isn’t coming from a place of judgment. I’m genuinely worried about her. That house is not safe. One spark and the entire place would go up in flames.”

  Detective Kerry’s phone rang. She stepped outside to answer it.

  “Look, Jules.” Thomas’s voice was filled with empathy. “I get it. I know how involved you get and I know that the Professor doesn’t exactly discourage your input and information when it comes to investigations. I don’t either. I appreciate your candor and the fact that everyone in town opens up to you. You get more information out of suspects by offering them a cup of Joe and a scone than I do sometimes, but this is sketchy territory we’re in. People get kind of nuts about their personal property and their independence. I only spoke with Anna for a few minutes, but my read on her is that she won’t be happy to have social services show up at her door.”

  “No. I don’t think she will, but Thomas, it’s the right thing to do. Even if it’s the hard thing, I know that it’s the right thing.”

  “Okay. I appreciate that. It’s one of your best qualities, but I want to warn you that if you go
down this path you’re involving yourself in Anna’s world and there’s no turning back.”

  “I understand.”

  He sighed. “In that case, let me call a friend at adult protective services and put her in touch with you.”

  “Thanks, Thomas.”

  “You bet, Jules. Just be careful, okay?” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what’s going on with these two cases right now, but I can tell you that I don’t like either of them. They’re dredging up the worst in Ashland and it’s not making me sleep easy at night.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  He shook his head and headed for the door. “Be careful. Watch your back. And don’t let Lance talk you into any more crazy schemes.”

  “Deal.”

  I watched him leave. Thomas wasn’t usually so glum. Did he know more about the case or cases that he couldn’t tell me? Probably. I would definitely heed his warning and have a chat with Lance about doing the same. Regardless of what transpired with Anna Mill I was confident that I was making the right choice. The woman clearly needed help. If I didn’t step in, who would?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Andy was the first staff member to arrive at Torte the next morning. I had already brought all the trays of my cooled oatmeal lace cookies upstairs. They looked tempting in the pastry case.

  “You’ve already baked cookies?” Andy stretched as he reached for an apron. “It’s barely possible to call this ungodly hour the morning. You are not human, boss.”

  “I made these last night.” I reached into the case and handed him a cookie. “Try one. It’ll put a spring in your step, guaranteed.”

  “That’s what coffee is for.” Andy ripped off a piece of the cookie. “Although this will do in the meantime.”

  I waited for him to finish his cookie. Then he went through his precoffee ritual, washing his hands, warming up the espresso machine, and doing a quick inventory of the large bags of coffee beans.

  “I could make a latte to go with that cookie. Maybe something with a touch of caramel and Irish cream and a hit of cinnamon. That could be good.”