Secrets and Pies

by Jenny Kales

  “So Callie, Max tells me you’re involved in a murder,” Rose said and immediately turned pink. “That didn’t come out right, did it?” She gave a self-deprecating smile and Callie smiled back. She liked Max’s mother more by the minute.

  “It’s all right,” Callie reassured her, looking at the clock. It was later than she’d thought. “I found the body of a teacher. Holly Tennyson. She was my daughter’s teacher, in fact. I’ve taken an interest in the case because of the personal connection.”

  “Oh my goodness. That’s just horrible. Where did you find her?” Rose put a hand over her mouth in shock.

  “At one of those Gilded Age Homes on the bay. I was meeting someone there. It was supposed to be renovated by a firm that employs my ex-husband. You know the type of house I’m talking about. They’re on the mansion boat tours. This particular house could be an absolute beauty, but it had been abandoned for a long time.” She hesitated. “I heard that it once belonged to a family named ‘Linley.’ There’s a Linley currently running The Harris House but I haven’t had a chance to ask her about any connection.”

  “Henry.” Rose turned to her husband. “If it’s the house that I’m thinking of, I think I know it. And so do you. It had some sort of scandal associated with it, didn’t it?”

  Max’s father took another sip of coffee and shifted in his chair. He grimaced. “Sorry, hip’s acting up again.” He swallowed a pill and continued. “I think that house was owned a long, long time ago by a Chicago family. I guess it was the Linleys. Don’t know about a scandal, but I think the son may have married a young woman who had some type of affiliation with the 1920s.”

  “Yes,” Callie answered casually. “That’s what I heard, too.”

  Rose frowned and tapped her fingers on the table. “Yes, but I’m thinking of a different thing. More recent.” She turned to Callie. “You see, the Linleys were very wealthy, but they didn’t get along. We went to school with some of the family,” she said, nodding at her husband. “There was some kind of battle about a will and who would inherit the mansion.”

  “I hadn’t heard that,” Callie replied, stunned.

  “It was a shame. The family ended up losing the house and it went through a series of owners. I always felt bad about it. Those types of homes should stay in the family. I’m sure they never wanted to give it up.”

  Twenty Five

  Callie gulped. “So you’re sure this is the Linley family?” She did a little math. “Did the Linley’s you know have any children?”

  Max’s mother frowned. “Yes. I think just one, though I’m not certain of that.”

  “Lisa,” Hank Evans said decisively. “They had a daughter named Lisa.”

  “Are you sure?” Callie held her breath.

  “Sure I am!” Hank said with a low chuckle. “Pain meds haven’t kicked in yet. Anyway, the name stuck with me for some reason.”

  Callie felt as if every nerve was humming like an electrical wire. Lisa Linley really did have a tie to the house! Was this why she had come back to Crystal Bay? Had Holly somehow stood in the way of that?

  And what about Allan Browne? Had he been involved, too?

  It was too much information to process all at once. She’d analyze it to death later. In the meantime, George was at her shop and she needed to get over there.

  “Would you look at the time,” Callie said. “I really appreciate the food and hospitality this morning, but Callie’s Kitchen calls. I’ve got to go.” She stood up, brushing crumbs off her lap. “Delicious bread. Maybe you’ll give me the recipe someday.”

  “Why certainly, hon. You can have it right now.” She went to her recipe file, and Callie took a picture of the card with her phone.

  “The miracles of the modern world,” Rose quipped, and Callie nodded and smiled, barely hearing her. Her mind was racing.

  Max walked her to the door. “You OK, there boss? You don’t mind if I still call you boss?”

  “No, not at all. And I’m fine. I just have to get back.” She gave Max a quick hug. “Your parents may have just given me an important piece of the puzzle regarding Holly’s murder.”

  “Really?” Max was aghast. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell you when I’ve had a chance to check out a few things. Please keep in touch, all right? And let me know if you can help out.”

  “Will do, Callie. It was real good to see you. Give everybody my regards and tell Piper I’ll be sure to see her soon.” He cocked his head at her. “One more thing: be careful.”

  Max waved at the car as Callie exited down the long driveway. Despite her preoccupation, Callie couldn’t help noticing he kept standing there, watching the car until she couldn’t see him anymore.

  ***

  “Piper, how’s it going?” Callie asked briskly when she returned. She was determined to visit The Harris House and Lisa Linley, but unfortunately, the kitchen needed her attention first.

  “He’s back there, cooking up a storm. Everybody loved his baklava.”

  “Good,” Callie said. “By the way, I saw Max this morning. That’s why I’m late.”

  “You did!” Piper’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “What were you doing out there?”

  “Trying to get him to come back to Callie’s Kitchen, I’m afraid. I feel guilty about going to his parents’ farm. It’s obvious that his dad is still in a lot of pain.”

  “Did he say he’d come back?” Piper asked eagerly.

  “He didn’t.” Piper’s smile faded. “But he did say he’d think about it,” Callie added.

  “That’s a start,” Piper said, brightening.

  Callie yawned. Her early morning journey had been emotionally tiring. “We’ll see what happens. In the meantime, thanks for your hard work, Piper. I’m going to check on George.”

  When Callie entered the kitchen workspace, George had his head down, chopping vegetables. She had no doubt that he was chopping them the right way.

  “How are things, Dad?”

  “Excellent.” George was flushed with heat or happiness at being needed, Callie couldn’t tell which one. “I’ve made yemista for you. Greek stuffed peppers, one of Callie’s favorites. Also,” George was saying, “my avgolemono is perfection.”

  Callie went over to him and put her arm around him, giving him a squeeze. “Thanks, Dad. I knew I could count on you.” She felt tears start. She was having so many feelings: gratitude that her father was helping her, sadness at how much she hated leaving Max behind, and an overwhelmed feeling about her new insight into Lisa Linley and her family.

  “Calliope! Tears? What is this?”

  “It’s nothing, Dad. Really. Thanks again. I’m just overtired.”

  George looked at her evenly. “In that case, there’s lots of coffee. Go have some.”

  Callie knew the jumpy feeling in her stomach would only be worsened by coffee. “I’ll take an ice water instead,” she said, grabbing a bottle from the fridge.

  Work was staring her in the face, but Callie couldn’t keep still. She wanted to give Sands a call and ask if he’d heard anything about the Linley family and their tie to the murder scene. She was just about to head to the alley behind Callie’s Kitchen for privacy when the phone rang.

  “Callie!” called Piper from the front of the shop.

  Sighing, Callie picked up and said a weary hello.

  “Thank goodness you’re there!” It was Mrs. DeWitt. “I need a favor. And I do realize you’ve done quite a few for me lately. But this could be big for you. They’re doing a feature in this week’s Crystal Bay Courier about the restaurants who’ve been contributing to Beats on the Bay. I told them all about you, and they want to do a feature on your summer pies! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “When?” Callie asked, her heart in her throat.

  “Can you have the pies ready to be photographed by tomorrow? I know that it’s short notice. But think of the exposure!”

  Callie hung her head, but then she looked over at George, humming awa
y as he chopped lettuce and spinach. He’d help her. Anyway, after all she’d been through, what were a few pies?

  “I’ll do it,” Callie said. “I’d like a chance to feature my Greek-style pites and American fruit pies. All right?”

  “Of course, of course. I’ll tell them. Now, I’d make about a half-dozen pies at least. They’ll be at your shop tomorrow morning, between 8 and 9. Congratulations! This will be some good publicity for Callie’s Kitchen!”

  Callie couldn’t argue with that. She signed off with Mrs. DeWitt and looked around the kitchen.

  “Dad, can you help me? In addition to finishing our regular menu items, I just got a pie order. It’s kind of special. We need at least six picture-perfect pites and fruit pies for The Crystal Bay Courier. They’re doing a feature on Callie’s Kitchen.”

  “Of course, I’ll help! What wonderful publicity! In fact, I can get started on some spanakopita right now.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Remember, they have to be picture perfect.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been making spanakopita before you were a twinkle in your mother’s eye!” He cleared his throat. “She’d be so proud of you, hrisi mou. Just like I am.”

  Callie felt guilty for resenting George’s bossy kitchen ways. True, he had cost her an employee, but he had a heart of gold. Maybe she could get Josh back, if she ever finished making pies, that is.

  George and Callie set to work. As she baked, stirred, conversed with George about food, and interacted with customers, her mind churned with all of her new knowledge. She didn’t quite know what it all meant, but she knew she needed to tell Sands what she knew.

  There was no privacy to call Sands right now, either, so she decided to do the next best thing. Wiping flour from her hands, she texted him and asked him to call her later.

  She also made a plan. As soon as she locked up for the day, she was heading over to The Harris House under the guise of asking about the murder mystery night and when it might resume. Perhaps there was a way to work Allan Browne’s Fitzgerald article into the conversation. If Lisa’s ancestry had anything to do with the topic of his piece, she would have to know something about it. Maybe she could even get some information about the family feud, though that would be tricky ground to cover. She didn’t want to offend Lisa.

  Callie had been convinced that the day would stretch into an eternity, but it flew by in a flurry of activity. That was one good thing about being busy: Time certainly didn’t drag.

  Callie couldn’t have stood it if it had. Once the last customer was gone, and she’d locked and cleaned up with George’s enthusiastic help, it was late for her shop to close, but early for festivities at The Harris House: 8:00.

  Now fueled purely on adrenaline after her early morning and busy workday, Callie slugged down another bottle of water and set off the short distance to The Harris House. In the dusk, the building’s witchy turrets sparkled and blinked with the tiny white strings of lights that adorned it year round.

  Brushing back the wisps of wavy hair that had fallen from her ponytail, Callie heaved her tired body up the steps. The dining room was semi-full, but the bar was crowded with tourists seeking a summery cocktail and a sunset view. Callie approached the concierge station, but Lisa wasn’t there. She waited several minutes and was finally greeted by a harried-looking hostess wearing The Harris House signature vintage waitress uniform. She looked like someone out of Downton Abbey, but when she spoke, her accent was pure Midwest, flat vowels and all.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for Lisa. Is she here tonight?”

  “She is, but I think she went to her upstairs residence for a minute. She should be back soon, if you want to wait.”

  “She said she was definitely coming back?” Callie persisted.

  The young woman looked impatient to get back to her customers. The drinkers in the bar were getting rowdier by the minute. “That’s what she said.”

  “All right, then I’ll wait.” Callie sat in a chair in the hall outside the restaurant so that she would have a clear view of Lisa when she returned.

  The longer she waited, the more the plan seemed like a weak one. With the place being so busy, Lisa wouldn’t really have time to talk to her. She’d resent the intrusion and rightly so.

  Young women in their Downton Abbey style uniforms and young men in white shirts with black trousers held up by old-fashioned suspenders rushed back and forth. Several asked her if she’d like a drink, and Callie had to compliment Lisa on the efficiency of her staff.

  Getting desperate now, Callie watched the first young woman who had told her Lisa was in the residence upstairs. She went down a hallway, and Callie decided to follow her. Was Lisa back there? She couldn’t wait forever. If she didn’t see her in a few minutes, she promised herself she’d leave and call Sands.

  As Callie hung back, her body partially obscured by heavy velvet drapes, she saw the young woman take a key from her apron pocket and unlock a door. She put her head in and called to someone. “You’ve got people asking for you! It’s crazy down here! What do I tell them?”

  The waitress called again to no response. Callie heard her muttering to herself. As she heard footsteps coming back towards her, she raced back towards her chair and sat there, out of breath, waiting for the young woman to take her place once again at the concierge desk. Only, she never appeared. Could she have gone straight into the bar without Callie seeing her?

  Several minutes passed, but the desk remained empty. Before she could lose her nerve, Callie scurried down the hallway, her heart in her throat. She tried the door that she’d seen the waitress/hostess unlock and to her surprise, it opened.

  The stairway was steep and narrow. Rich flocked wallpaper in a brocade-style print lined the walls. This must be the residence. Did she dare enter?

  “Lisa?” Callie called uncertainly. “Can I come up?”

  Silence. Callie tried again. “Lisa?”

  Hesitating for just a moment, Callie straightened her shoulders and started up the staircase.

  She cast about for an excuse for her intrusion if, say, Lisa stood at the top of the stairs. She could always fib and say that the hostess sent her up to check if she was returning to the restaurant for the evening. Feeling calmer now that she had a cover story, Callie climbed the steep staircase with a surer step.

  When she was out of breath, heart fluttering at her audacity, the stairs finally culminated in what was once known as a “sitting room.” The dimly lit space was filled with lush antique furniture and heavy draperies, just like the rooms downstairs. Gleaming dark wood, high ceilings and rich colors gave the impression of luxury to the surroundings.

  On closer inspection, though, Callie could see that the furniture was threadbare with age, and the wood was scarred from decades of use.

  “Lisa!” she called again. Still, the place could definitely be brought back to life, provided someone had enough money.

  Callie took a quick walk around the room but saw no signs of Lisa’s presence: no half-filled water glass, no teacup, and no sounds of a television or radio.

  Just off the sitting room, was a small hallway illuminated by wall sconces, alight with a soft and somewhat ghostly glow. Callie’s curiosity got the better of her. She entered the hallway, which was bordered by a white subway tile bathroom and claw foot tub on one side, and what looked to be a master bedroom on the other. So Lisa wasn’t simply in the bathroom. That answered that question.

  The bedroom door was ajar, so Callie knocked and called Lisa’s name. When no one answered, she cautiously pushed the door open, half-expecting to find something horrible.

  To Callie’s relief, the room was empty. It was slightly less shabby than the lounge, but the furniture was at odds with the rest of the décor. Lisa’s bedroom, if this is what it was, had furniture that more closely resembled something you’d find at IKEA. On this floor, the heat was more intense and there was the smell of musty corners and old plumbing.

  C
allie saw something lying on a desk near the doorway.

  Allan Browne’s article.

  A noise from behind her made her jump. Her blood turning to ice water, she turned around, ready with her flimsy excuse on her lips.

  When she saw who it was, she was nearly weak with relief. Callie let out her breath with a whoosh.

  “Hi, there,” Callie said cheerily, hoping to bluff her way through. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Twenty Six

  “I could say the same thing of you,” April stood, her arms crossed in front of her. She didn’t sound so cheery now. Callie took note of April’s clenched jaw.

  “The hostess sent me up to see where Lisa had gotten to. It’s getting busy downstairs, and I was just checking to make sure she’s all right,” Callie explained, wincing at her lame excuse.

  “Lisa is in the dining room. They’re getting so busy here, they can’t even keep track. I followed you up here.”

  “Why would you…” The words were barely out of Callie’s mouth before April lunged.

  Callie ducked and ran to the opposite corner of the room, but she panicked when she saw that April had closed the bedroom door and was standing in front of it. There was no way out.

  Callie didn’t wait for April to lunge again. Screaming for help, she did the first thing that occurred to her. Spotting the slightly open door of Lisa’s bedroom closet, she sped inside and pressed her body against the door, hoping to keep April out.

  The closet was a roomy walk-in, exceedingly large for such an old house. Perhaps it was once a small bedroom. Callie cast about wildly as April started banging on the door, trying to open it. Using her muscles daily for home renovations had made April strong, and she was proving it now.

  April? Callie could hardly believe it.

  April rattled the doorknob as Callie’s eyes grew used to the dimness. A heavy-looking antique dresser was to her right. She nearly cried in frustration. She could use it to barricade the door, but how? April would crash into the closet the second she moved an inch.