KILLER COCOA PIE

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “The newspaper has covered a few stories on my place. Maybe she read about me there.”

  “Or maybe she was told all about Pies and Pages from her employer, the Bradford’s.”

  Bert swiveled the chair back toward the computer. “But why was she murdered? Harry and the gas company both said it didn’t make sense for there to be carbon monoxide in that back room. So, where did it come from?”

  Carla sighed, pulling a chair over and sitting down, the realization that her friend might be on the right track settling in. “I’m still not buying it but go on.”

  “Remember that weird hole in the wall? Maybe they pumped in the poisonous fumes through there while Delila was inside.”

  “With what?”

  Bert shrugged. “Maybe car exhaust, somehow? I know that is one way you can fill up a small space with carbon monoxide.”

  “Wouldn’t she hear the car running?”

  “Not if they knocked her out first. Pen said that she had a nasty bump.”

  “So, they knocked her out and hid her inside that room?”

  “Or, they found her snooping around in there and then knocked her out.”

  “If that’s the case, you must be a heavy sleeper.”

  “I had earplugs in and an eye mask on. Not to mention, the heater in my bedroom can be noisy.”

  “Also, if I remember correctly from our church camping trip last summer, you sleep like the dead.”

  Bert couldn’t help laughing. “That’s true.”

  “Okay, but what’s the point?” she asked, steering back to the topic at hand.

  “My point is, I think she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to and was killed for it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found evidence of foul play while investigating.”

  “But how do we know that? You and I don’t have any evidence that proves anything.”

  Bert thought for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. We call the community college in Maine that she was attending. Maybe I can talk to a professor or someone who will know what kind of projects she was working on. You know how some of these young students are, digging deep to uncover conspiracies and injustices.”

  Opening a new tab on the internet, she typed in the name of the city in Maine, Tuscany, followed by the words community college. Sure enough, the college was the first hit to come up—and they had a phone number for the main office.

  “Hand me a phone, please.”

  Carla gave her own cellphone to Bert who dialed in the number.

  After going through a prerecorded menu, she was finally connected through to a real person. It rang a couple times and then someone picked up. “Hello. Tuscany Community College Administration office. My name is Tiffany. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, my name is Bertha Hannah. My friend asked me to call the school and check in on her daughter. We haven’t heard from her in a few days.”

  “Have you tried calling the student directly?”

  “Uh, yes we have, and we haven’t been able to get in touch. Is it possible for you to tell us if she is okay?”

  “Sure thing. Do you have the student’s ID number?”

  Bert bit her lower lip. “I’m afraid I don’t. Her mom didn’t give it to me.”

  “That’s alright, but without that ID, I can’t hand out any specific information about her grades.”

  “It’s fine. We just need to know if she has been going to class, just so we know she’s safe.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that without the ID.”

  “Oh, no. Her mother has been so worried, and so have I. I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Bert made her voice waver as if she might cry.

  There was a pause of hesitation from the secretary, followed by a knowing sigh “What is the student's name?”

  “Delila Browning.”

  “Give me just a second.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Delila Francis Browning?”

  Bert wasn’t sure but played along. “That’s right.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems that your friend’s daughter isn’t even enrolled this semester. She dropped out.”

  Bert’s jaw dropped. “What? Did she? I can hardly believe it.”

  “That’s what is on our records.”

  “Can you tell me why?” she pressed, knowing she might be taking it too far.

  “It looks like her educational counselor left some notes on here.”

  “Oh?” she asked, hoping she would share the information.

  “It says she dropped because she got a professional position with a company called Bradford and Bradford as a personal secretary.”

  Bert and Carla instantly locked eyes, mouths wide at the news.

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  Bert tried to contact Detective Mannor multiple times throughout the day but only ended up leaving a voicemail message on his phone informing him that she’d discovered something new. While it still didn’t prove she was working to sabotage Pies and Pages, it did indicate two things.

  First, it was indicative that Delila Browning did, in fact, have a connection with Bradford and Bradford.

  Second, she had lied about coming down from Maine to visit the shop. If she truly was a personal secretary to one, or both, of the Bradford brothers, that meant she was traveling around with them.

  What it didn’t answer was why she had been murdered.

  Had she found out something about her employer she wasn’t meant to know? Was she doing something for her employer that someone else didn’t like?

  Bert just didn’t have enough information to make a proper deduction. She spent much of the day turning the facts over and over in her mind but had to stop as the evening approached.

  The church which Bert and Carla attended on a weekly basis was hosting a Valentine’s party. It was mostly intended for kids and teenagers but would have plenty of food and games for the adults as well. While she hadn’t originally planned on attending—due to her immense amount of work at the shop—she decided, since the store was closed, to go with her best friend.

  The parking lot at the church was full of the congregation members’ cars, and the duo was forced to park on the neighboring street before heading inside.

  The chapel’s event hall was already hopping with churchgoers all milling about and greeting one another. Pre-dinner snacks were all laid out on a set of long tables draped in pink and white plastic cloths. Just a few of the treats included pink yogurt dipped pretzels, chocolate covered strawberries, mini-candied hearts, and even a few of the Lovers Pies that Bert remembered the pastor’s secretary buying the day before.

  The hall was decorated to the hilt with red and pink streamers, heart-shaped balloons and festive banners. There was even a fake boat, made to look like a swan, riding along a river of blue and white butcher paper.

  Bert and Carla entered under a temporary archway which was covered in fake roses, an item usually only brought out of storage for weddings.

  “Bert, Carla, so good to see you,” Pastor Chimney beamed upon seeing the two women.

  “Good evening,” Carla responded with a slight bow of greeting.

  “I thought Katie said you weren’t going to make it.”

  “That’s what I told her when she picked up the pies yesterday.”

  “I assume it’s because of . . . today’s events,” he managed to lower his voice to a whisper.

  Bert took a step back. “How did you know?”

  “Pen mentioned it.”

  “Pen’s here?” she blurted out, stretching her neck to get a better look around the crowded room. She was surprised he wasn’t still at the morgue.

  “He sure is. I think he has to work on Valentine’s Day, so he brought his wife tonight.”

  “Impressive,” Bert admitted, finally spotting her friend across the room. He was bent over the refreshment table, loading up a paper plate with goodies. “I’m going to say hello to him,” she informed the
pastor, heading in that direction.

  Carla, all too invested in this case, excused herself as well and tagged along.

  “Pen, I thought for sure you wouldn’t be here tonight,” Bert said, dispensing with any normal greeting.

  “Hi, Bert, Carla.”

  “Where’s your wife?” Carla asked.

  “In the bathroom, I believe.” Placing a third chocolate covered strawberry on his plate, he realized it would overflow with anything else. However, that didn’t stop him from using his free hand to pick up a slice of Bert’s Lovers Pie with purple meringue. “Your pies are always the absolute best. I don’t think we could call any church function official until we had one of Bert’s pies here,” he complimented her, smiling as he held up the decadent chocolatey treat.

  “Thank you, Pen,” she accepted the praise with a smile. She knew she should also try and enjoy the festivities—to not let murder and treachery infect her evening—but it simply wasn’t how her brain worked.

  “Would you ladies care to sit with me and Val this evening?” he asked, scanning the room for a place to sit.

  “Did you finish the autopsy?” Bert squeaked the question out before Carla could say her I’d love to in response to Pen’s question.

  The coroner tilted his head knowingly, his eyes scolding Bert for her impatience. “That I did. I e-mailed my report to Detective Mannor just before heading over to pick up Valerie and coming here.”

  “It must have been a long day,” Carla noted with a sympathetic tone.

  “I promised Val I’d bring her to the party, and when you make a promise to your wife, you figure out a way to keep it.” He spotted an empty table and headed for it, Bert and Carla in tow. Bert noticed the table was off in a more secluded section of the hall, and she wondered if he’d chosen it on purpose.

  One thing she loved about her congregation was the sense of companionship and comradery that went with the community. Everyone was always willing to lend a helping hand whenever they could, as well as dispense the latest social news at the drop of a hat.

  Even Pen wasn’t immune to that.

  Of course, some would call that “social news” gossip, and in some cases, Bert had to agree. In this case, however, it was her own business on the line.

  Nestling into a seat with his back to the corner, Pen picked up a yogurt pretzel and crunched down on it happily.

  “So? Were we right? Did she die of carbon monoxide poisoning?” she asked once she’d double checked they were safely out of earshot of other party guests.

  “Bert, considering the mysterious circumstances surrounding the young woman’s untimely death, I’m not so sure I’m supposed to be sharing things with you,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

  “Come on, Pen. If someone is out to sabotage my store . . .”

  “Which they are,” Carla interrupted.

  “If they are, I want to be on top of it,” she insisted. While Pen wasn’t the sort of person to keep a tight lip like Detective Mannor, he still had his profession to consider.

  “In any case, the official lab tests are still out on that,” he informed her, picking up a candy heart and popping it into his mouth. “Even if I had the results, I’m not sure you’d be privy to that information.” His playful manner was much different than Harry’s no-nonsense attitude, but Bert was getting tired of it.

  She could tell he was beating around the bush. Would he even be willing to share any information with her?

  “What do you think?” she pressed, hoping her old friend would at least give her a hint. “At the scene, this morning, you said that you would bet on carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  “I suppose, in my professional opinion, I’m willing to venture a guess that it was, indeed, carbon monoxide. Since you already heard me confirm that, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  “So, it’s true?” Carla asked. “She was really murdered?”

  “I can’t say that for sure,” he noted.

  “What about methane? The gas company mentioned that the kitchen had trace levels of methane thanks to the oven being on. Is it even remotely possible that she could have died from methane poisoning?” Bert leaned in on the table, looking for whatever scraps he could throw her.

  “No, they said that there wasn’t very much methane, not enough to hurt anyone,” Carla reminded her friend.

  “Even if there had been elevated levels of methane, there isn’t any such thing as methane poisoning. It is a suffocating gas. When it fills the air, there is not enough oxygen left to breathe. The victim usually passes out,” he informed the women.

  “Delila did pass out though,” Carla added. “It had to be from something.”

  “I’m positive it wasn’t methane,” he pointed out, picking up his plastic fork and stabbing it into the meringue on top of the pie.

  “You are?”

  “Methane would have caused signs of suffocation. It works differently than carbon monoxide.”

  “I see,” Bert mused quietly, tapping her index finger on her lips in thought. So, it was most likely carbon monoxide poisoning, as they had all originally thought. That wasn’t very telling information. It didn’t give them an edge into figuring out why the girl was murdered.

  Then Bert remembered something. “So, you said she passed out and hit her head when she fell?”

  “The bump on the head came prior to passing out,” he said before he could stop himself. Smacking his lips, he groaned. “Probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “Or, the bump might have been what caused her to pass out? Was she knocked out and left there to die?” Bert thought out loud, knowing that she was asking too many questions.

  “You ladies. We’re old friends, but I can’t just hand out information willy-nilly. I’m happy to give little tidbits here and there, especially for a friend in need, but you should give me a break.”

  Bert smiled and nodded, reaching across to grab his hand. “Look. I’m sorry. I just have myself all worked up over this ordeal.”

  “I get it. Just know that you might be digging yourself a hole here. If this really was murder, what’s to say that someone else won’t be coming after you next if you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

  “We’re fine,” Bert responded.

  “What would Detective Mannor say? I know he especially doesn’t want you getting hurt,” Pen pointed out.

  This brought a smile to Carla’s lips.

  Bert couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She’d be happy once Valentine’s Day was done and over. Pushing her chair out from the table, she stood up. “You two will have to excuse me. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  “Do you think Detective Mannor is done investigating your shop?” Carla asked as they drove away from the church later that evening.

  Bert had spent most of the party standing near the food table, snacking on small items here and there. She felt bad for pressuring Pen to give her more information. He was one of the most honest and clean-cut kind of men she’d ever had the privilege of knowing. He would never do anything to compromise his position as the city coroner.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t a police officer—and while bound by the constraints of his office—he just didn’t have the same place among law enforcement that would make him a part of the good-old-boys club.

  “Do you think Pen is mad at me?” she asked Carla, skipping over her earlier question.

  “No, he’s fine. In fact, he seemed like he was chomping at the bit to share more, but also wanted to be careful and respect the police.”

  “I understand.”

  “Anyway, he’s our old friend, so I doubt that he even batted an eye at your questions. He was just reminding you that he has to be careful what he says.”

  “Trust me. I get it,” Bert said, pulling out a cardboard box of candy hearts, leftovers from the party. Digging her fingers inside, she retrieved a yellow one. The imprinted text on it said smile. “Easier s
aid than done,” she whispered, devouring the little treat.

  “You wouldn’t want Pen to get in trouble with Detective Mannor, would you?”

  “You’re right. I don’t. I’m just worried about this case.”

  Carla glanced over at her friend in the passenger seat. “Come on. You’ve got to get your mind off this thing. It’s a holiday this week, for crying out loud.”

  Following the heart’s advice, Bert allowed herself to smile. To her surprise, she did feel somewhat lighter. “You’re right. I think I just need a break. With how crazy work has been, and then this murder on top of it, I think I’m just a tiny bit overwhelmed.”

  “A tiny bit?” Carla joked.

  A laugh managed to escape Bert’s chest. “Okay, a lot a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Tell you what. How about you stay at my place tonight? It’ll be sort of a girl’s night.”

  “We’re not in high school, Carla. We’re two refined ladies in our sixties. We don’t have sleepovers.” She spoke the word refined with a hint of humor, knowing all too well how the two of them liked to cause their fair share of trouble.

  “Don’t think of it as a sleepover. Think of it as a mini-vacation from the shop. While it may be easier to live in the apartment above, and just have to walk down to work in the morning, it also means it’s harder to leave the stress of work at work.”

  Bert pulled out a hot pink heart from her box of sweets. This one said Say Yes! “You’re totally right. Time for a mini-vacation.”

  “We can pop popcorn in my new air popper, mix in those chocolate covered candies we love, and watch old movies. Heck, I’ll even watch one of those goofy sci-fi movies you love so much.”

  Carla really was a great friend. “Really?”

  “But only one,” she retorted.

  “Okay, sounds great. Can we stop by my apartment and pick up a few things first?”

  “You think Harry is done with the place?”

  Bert wondered if he was keeping things closed off for the time being since he hadn’t called her back after she left him messages. “We can only check.”