Killer Thanksgiving Pie (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 4)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “Detective, it appeared the body was shoved behind the dumpster. She could have easily missed it. I know I did at first,” Bert commented.

  “No, no. I came up the alley from the other side,” Andie admitted, pointing the opposite direction.

  “From State Street?”

  She nodded. “The parking meters are cheaper over there, so I always considered it worth it just to walk a few extra feet.”

  “So, you’re saying you might have seen the body?”

  She tapped the side of her mug with a pink manicured nail. “That is precisely what I’m saying. I would have seen him. He simply wasn’t there yet.”

  Mannor hummed thoughtfully before turning to look at Shiv again. “And what time did you get here, Ms. Hart?”

  “Just before six-thirty.”

  “And which way did you come up the alley?”

  “Well, I don’t have a car. I took the bus and got off at the stop on State Street.”

  “So, you didn’t see a body either?”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t there. I swear it.”

  “Don’t worry. I believe you,” he said comfortingly.

  Bert tried not to sneer at his strange sense of sincerity. What was this? Did he just treat young and pretty women better?

  “So, Mrs. Hannah, you’re the only one who came up from the opposite end?”

  “That’s right. And that was at seven this morning, if you’d like to know.” She tacked on the time assuming that was going to be his next questions.

  Mannor tried to hide his distaste at this. “And you all found the body when?”

  “At five or ten after seven, about,” Andie added.

  “Do any of you ladies know the gentlemen who was found in the alley this morning?”

  Bert shook her head, “no,” and looked at Andie expectantly. The detective was doing the same.

  She could only shrug. “I’m sorry, Detective, I’ve never seen the man before.”

  “He’d never come into the soup kitchen for food?”

  “Never.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause as Mannor scribbled down the notes.

  “I-I’ve seen him,” Shiv chimed in, quiet as a mouse.

  Both women and the detective looked at her with wide eyes. “You know him, Shiv?” Andie exclaimed.

  She nodded.

  “Who is it?” Detective Mannor pressed.

  “Well, you see, I don’t know him, know him. I’ve just seen him in here once is all.”

  “Go on,” he encouraged her.

  “Well, you see, he came in a few days ago and tried to sweet talk me.”

  “You mean he made advances toward you?”

  “Sort of. He seemed drunk. At first, he kept asking if he could see a pretty girl like me in private. He even suggested we step into the back part of the kitchen.”

  “And what did you say in reply to this?”

  “I told him no, of course. I wasn’t about to let him into the back. That’s against policy.”

  “I see. Then what happened?”

  “Well, he got sort of angry, tried to push his way back into the kitchen. I had to block the way and force him back out.”

  “Did he hurt you at all?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. He was too drunk to really try very hard. He didn’t seem to have much balance. Still, he stank and was rude.” She shivered. “He sort of scared me.”

  “Did you have to call any sort of help to remove him?”

  “No. Eventually, he gave up and left.”

  Mannor’s smile for her had all but vanished. Bert didn’t like what that might mean. “Thank you for your help, ladies. I’ll request that you all head home for the day.”

  “Home for the day?” Andie squeaked.

  “That’s right. I’m going to have to close down the soup kitchen while we finish investigating.”

  Bert felt her heart sink as she watched her friend’s face go pale.

  “B-but, what about the Thanksgiving meal for the homeless? We have hundreds of people counting on us for a decent dinner this evening.” Andie’s eyes were beginning to turn red, a sure sign of tears.

  “My apologies, Mrs. Right. That isn’t my main concern at the moment.”

  “Don’t you have a heart?” Bert exclaimed, standing up and slamming her hands on the table.

  “Mrs. Hannah. The last thing I need is another accusation from you.”

  “These people, these families, rely on this soup kitchen. It’s a holiday, and many of them have nowhere else to go.”

  Mannor shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “How can you do this?”

  Andie stood up and touched Bert on the shoulder, basically telling her to let it go.

  “Now please, all of you, head home or I’ll have one of my men escort you out.” With that, the detective disappeared back through the kitchen door.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Andie slumped back into her own chair. “What are we going to do?”

  “Maybe we could find somewhere else to do it?” Shiv added hopefully.

  Andie only shook her head. “All of our food is back there. We couldn’t possibly get it all again.”

  Suddenly, Bert had an idea. “It’ll mean a lot of extra work, and there might not be the same kind of meal or space for everyone, but maybe we could move it to my shop.”

  “Bert? We couldn’t do that.”

  “Of course, we can. At the very least, we can work hard to make up some pies. They can at least have a yummy slice of something warm, even if we can’t give them a full meal.”

  Andie clasped her hands thankfully and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  Since the majority of the decorations at the soup kitchen hadn’t been hung yet, and they were all in the front area where none of the cops were, the woman gathered them up and took them along. Additionally, they whipped up a few signs from extra construction paper and felt markers to help inform anyone who showed up at the soup kitchen that they could head over to Pies and Pages for a Thanksgiving treat.

  Bert had to ride in the same car with Andie and Shiv. Technically, her car had ended up behind the police tape in the crime scene. She wouldn’t have it back until the next day at the earliest, unless the detective found something “pertinent to the case” and decided to hold it for longer.

  Needless to say, Bert wasn’t thrilled about the idea. She’d just have to ask Carla for rides until this whole mess was cleared up.

  Arriving at Pies and Pages, the three woman got fast to work getting the place ready. Shiv rushed to get all the decorations hung throughout the quaint pie and bookstore. The tables were draped with red and brown plastic cloths and cute fold out centerpieces in the shape of turkeys were put on each one.

  At the same time, Bert got to working like a madwoman in the kitchen to prepare new pies to replace the ones left at the crime scene. Luckily, she had plenty of extra ingredients left over from her shopping trip to make a new set of delicious desserts.

  Meanwhile, Andie worked to call in a few favors. She hoped to dredge up some last-minute food donations to round out the Thanksgiving meal into more than just a pie fest.

  Within the hour, and much to the shock of the three hard-working women, shop owners from all over the Old Market district, as well as members from Bert’s church congregation, were arriving with their arms full of food products. Boxes of stuffing, packets of gravy, cans of green beans and cranberry sauce, and even a few extra turkeys found their way into the small kitchen area.

  None of it was gourmet eating, and not a lot of it would be made from scratch, but this at least meant they could have something for the homeless to eat.

  Bert ran around like a crazy woman, attempting to find the best ways to utilize the dishes she had to cook everything. Having multiple ovens sure made things easier.

  It was getting to be afternoon, and the whole shop was feeling festive. The decorations added a splash
of seasonal color while the aroma of a true Thanksgiving meal permeated the air. “Here you go,” a voice called as the door opened for probably the hundredth time that day.

  “Carla! Happy Thanksgiving,” Bert beamed upon seeing her friend. She wore her orange, brown, and white plaid apron which was coated in spots of flour dust and sugar.

  Carla walked over to the counter and set down the hefty turkey she had cradled in her arms. “I brought over a turkey for you.”

  Bert eyed the giant bird before her. “Carla, it’s huge! Where did you find it so last minute?”

  Smiling, she waved a hand at her friend. “Oh, it was easy. I just opened my fridge and there it was.”

  “Oh, no, Carla. It’s your own Thanksgiving turkey?”

  “And now it’s yours.”

  “No, we couldn’t possibly take it.”

  Carla made a tisking noise in the back of her throat. “You can, and you will.”

  “But what will you eat?”

  “Well, you see, none of my kids can make it out this year. I bought this when I thought they were going to make the trip. Turned out, none of them are going to show up. It would be a waste to just make it and eat it alone.”

  “You were going to be alone today? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Carla, you’re like family. You can always tell me.”

  “Well, in any case, I figured, what better way to use it then giving it to those in need. Besides, I prefer to spend my holiday here with you, my best friend.”

  Bert was smiling so wide at this point that she thought her lips just might stretch off her face. Her vision blurred slightly with tears of gratitude, but she pushed them back as she grabbed her best friend and embraced her in a tight hug. “Thank you. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “You better get things started, then,” Carla said.

  “You’re right. We don’t have much time left, so we better get moving.” Bert lifted the turkey and hoisted it into the sink. Cooking this guy up would be a close call, but she thought she could have it ready by the time the other smaller turkeys were eaten up.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Do you mind chopping those pecans into smaller pieces for the pie?” she motioned to the large bag on the counter.

  “On it.” Carla instinctively grabbed one of the extra aprons off the hook. “Mind if I use this?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Slipping it over her head, she tied the ends and picked up the cutting knife to get to work. “I’m so sad to hear about the murder at the soup kitchen. Even on a holiday, there seems to be horrible things happening in the world.”

  “That’s true, but there are plenty of great things going on as well. I mean, look at how everyone in the community came together to make this happen when it seemed the police had shut it down for good.”

  Carla glanced around the room at all the people who had shown up to donate food or volunteer time at the last minute. “You’re right. There is nothing quite like it.”

  “I was really upset earlier, too, but it looks like things are going to really work out well.”

  “So, do you think this murder is related to those other deaths we read about in the paper?” she asked, chopping the nuts vigorously.

  Bert sighed, thinking of her encounter with Detective Mannor that morning. “I can almost guarantee it. I don’t think the detective would have been so mad at me otherwise. I mean, for heaven sake, you’d think he blamed me for his case ending up in the papers.”

  “Well, somebody spilled the beans. That’s for sure.”

  “It’s true, but who? Who would possibly know that all of those people were being poisoned and murdered if they weren’t part of the force?”

  “Maybe the murderer tipped off the news agencies. I hear serial killers really like the attention.”

  Bert rolled her eyes. “I’m not so sure we can call it a serial killer yet. We don’t know much about this case.”

  “It does seem odd that the man you found this morning was stabbed. Maybe it’s a completely unrelated crime?”

  “Maybe,” Bert agreed. However, something in her gut was tingling, telling her otherwise. Deep down, she knew that all the deaths were connected. The stabbing made it even clearer that these were all murders, not sad accidents.

  “Didn’t you mention that the dead guy had a broken camera on him?” Carla asked, referring to the phone conversation they’d had just a few hours earlier. Bert had called Carla and asked her to help spread the word about the need for food. Carla, in turn, had called the church for help as well.

  During the conversation, Bert had filled her in on all the details of the murder. Carla had helped Bert figure out a few things on other investigations and wanted her opinion. Much to Detective Mannor’s dismay, they were a regular pair of amateur sleuths.

  “What about the camera?”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little strange?”

  Bert shrugged. “I’ve seen homeless folks with stranger things. I mean, there once was a man I knew who owned a brand-new pickup truck, but was completely homeless. He slept in the bed of the truck during the summers and in the cab during the winter.

  “No. What about that other story?” Carla thought out loud.

  “What other story?” Bert asked, removing the plastic from the turkey and plopping it into a large baking tin.

  “You know, the one in the paper about the camera shop being robbed multiple times this last month.”

  Sliding the turkey into the one vacant oven and turning up the heat, she turned around to face her friend. The thoughts bounced around her head as she began to realize what her friend was getting at. “Wait a second. You’re saying that maybe our victim is also the culprit of the camera thefts?”

  Carla snapped her fingers. “Bingo.”

  “Sometimes, you are brilliant, my friend.”

  Carla beamed. “I try.”

  “It’s an interesting theory, that’s for sure.”

  “Hey, maybe the camera shop owner is the murderer?”

  Bert squinted in confusion, heading over to continue mixing the cinnamon, molasses, and brown sugar for the pecan pie. “How would that be possible?”

  “I don’t know. The owner tracks down whoever stole the equipment, tries to take it back, but ends up killing the guy.”

  “But why not just call in the police? I mean, they could easily have the culprit arrested and the merchandise returned.”

  Carla paused her chopping duties and looked over at Bert. “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m not saying it couldn’t happen. Just seems unlikely.”

  “So much for me being brilliant,” Carla groaned.

  Bert knew her friend liked to speculate theories, but she often took them to extremes.

  “No, it’s still a good idea to consider. I’ve thought up crazier things that turned out to be correct.” She quickly thought back to an earlier murder case she’d helped solve. Some of her ideas seemed off the wall bonkers at first, but had turned out to be right. How could she discount her own best friend’s theories?

  “It’s possible, then?”

  “In investigative work, you have to consider every possibility,” Bert pointed out. Her mind was already racing with the clues. She thought of her schedule the following day and wondered if she would have time to swing by the camera shop in question to do a little investigating.

  “It’s kinda funny, huh?” Carla mused, returning to her chopping.

  “What is?”

  “How you keep getting mixed up in these murder cases, but then solve them.”

  Bert thought on it a moment and nodded. “I guess I just have a knack for this kind of stuff. I always had an eye for detail.”

  “You sure have.”

  “Anyway, I guess I’m just worried that the detective is going to end up pointing his finger at the wrong person, you know?”

  “What, like you?” Carla laughed.


  “No, I’m not so much worried about me.” Bert glanced over at Shiv who was busy setting out plastic silverware and paper plates on a long serving table. She was exactly the kind of scapegoat the police might try to finger.

  Who knew? Shiv had made a joke about robbing earlier. Based on her past, it was possible she had a few other items on her record.

  The police ate that kind of thing up, and Shiv had been outside last before the body was found. Additionally, the detective’s demeanor toward the girl had changed when he learned of her encounter with the victim.

  Bert didn’t know her that well, but she still felt an intrinsic kinship with the girl. No, she refused to let the detective pin it on her.

  Shaking her head, she pushed any thoughts of the case out of her mind. “Anyway, no more talk about murder for now. We’ve got a meal to prepare.”

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  Just as darkness began to fall, Bert opened her doors to the hungry people who were waiting outside in the cold weather. Tiny dots of snowflakes fell, dancing in the streetlights and melting on the pavement.

  It was the first snowfall of the season, but it didn’t look like it was going to stay around.

  Meanwhile, while things were growing cold and wet outside, the inside of Pies and Pages was full of warmth and holiday cheer. Volunteers helped guide the line in and through. Shiv, Andie, Bert, and Carla all stood behind the pie counter, serving up steaming slices of turkey, buttery piles of mashed potatoes, fluffy stuffing, and slices of cinnamon-sweet pecan pie.

  It was amazing to watch how people’s faces brightened up the further they got in the line. It was almost as if the shop had a warming effect that turned on the dimmer switch inside people. Bert’s personal favorite was when families came through. It was sad that they were going without normal everyday comforts, especially the children, but Bert was simply thrilled to give them something to brighten their holiday.

  It was a blessing that they had been able to relocate the dinner to the shop, otherwise none of these people would have a warm meal to eat.

  Bert used her MP3 player and hooked it up to the speaker dock to play uplifting classical music to set the mood for the evening. All around, folks with happy smiles sat at the tables and chatted while they ate the food. It didn’t seem to matter that a lot of it came out of a box or a can to these people. They were simply grateful.