A Good Day to Pie

by Carol Culver

  “That’s hardly murder.”

  “Easy for you to say. I knew she was taking something. She had her meds there on the table in her itty-bitty antique pillbox like usual. She’s always bragging about her special pharmacy where they mix the drugs on site to order. Expensive, but worth the cost, so she orders them by mail instead of patronizing our own local drug store. I know she’s got problems like hypertension and deep vein thrombosis, because she talks about her health all the time like it’s so fascinating and we really want to know. And who doesn’t take something for something? I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Denton? Crystal Cove Police Department.”

  I grabbed my grandmother’s arm. “For God’s sake, Grannie,” I hissed. “Don’t confess to anything. You didn’t kill the woman. She obviously died from accidental causes. Period. End of story.”

  Grannie nodded. I smiled at her, then turned and opened the door with a flourish to show Grannie just how confident I was.

  Sam Genovese, my old high school flame, stood at the door in classic dark slacks and an Oxford blue button-down shirt. Sam, a button-down professional? It was not the way I’d pictured him. It was too much for my mind to process. His dark hair, once shoulder length, was now cut short. So it was true. As a thirty-something adult he was outrageously more gorgeous than as a rebellious teen. And he was the absolute last person in the world I’d ever expect to be on the side of the law standing on the other side of the door tonight. Even when I’d heard he’d come back to run our little police station.

  I should have guessed he’d be on the scene after hearing about him from my supposed old high school “friends.” I stood there staring at him, trying to reconcile the tall, muscular guy looking positively mainstream with the tattooed teenage rule-breaker I once knew. And trying to remember what I was going to say at this meeting. There was no need. He looked right past me at my grandmother.

  “Ms. Denton? How are you? I’m Sam Genovese. Crystal Cove PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Mary Brandt if you don’t mind.”

  Then he turned to me. “Hello Hanna,” he said, his voice deeper than I remembered, but just as casual as if we’d met yesterday on the street. It was a cinch his heart was not pounding like mine. And that he’d not practiced what he’d say to me when we met. But then he was as super cool as ever and it wasn’t his grandmother being questioned by the law. “If you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course.” What else could I say? “Hello, Sam, how are you?” I said as smoothly as I could. “You’re interviewing everyone, right?” I said that more to reassure Grannie than to hear something I already knew. “I mean Mary’s death was an accident, wasn’t it?” I wanted him to know he wasn’t getting rid of me so easily. This was my grandmother he was talking to.

  “Initially Mary Brandt’s death appeared to be an accident, but in the meantime we’ve had the report from the coroner as well as some additional information from her family. Which means in a case like this we’re treating it as a homicide. This was no accident.”

  “No accident? A homicide?” I repeated like a parrot. So Grannie wasn’t paranoid after all.

  He nodded rather curtly I thought.

  “In a case like this?” I asked, still reeling from the shock. Like what? I wanted to know. But he didn’t answer. I didn’t know where Sam had been all these years. If he was working as a cop in some big city, maybe he was accustomed to finding murder victims every other Friday night. He ought to know how rare murder was, especially in peaceful Crystal Cove. Especially at a retirement home.

  “Where the family insists on an investigation and the evidence points to murder.”

  I gulped, but when I recovered from hearing the M word, I shot Grannie a confident smile I hoped pumped her up, then I left and stood just outside with my ear pressed to the door. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was amazing to hear my grandmother switch from frightened suspect to her Lady of the Manor mode. All signs of the nervous, worried, supposedly accused murderer were gone. After offering him a drink which he declined, she asked him how he liked Crystal Cove, as if he was a newcomer. He told her he was actually a native.

  She said, “Oh, of course, how silly of me. How could I forget. You’re the Genovese boy. You’ll have to forgive an old lady, my memory isn’t what it used to be.” Then I swear, she giggled. She probably hoped he’d tell her she was far from being “an old lady.” Around here anyway. But he didn’t, so after a pause she continued.

  “It’s lovely having you back in town. I hope you’re here for good,” she said. “Crystal Cove is such a wonderful place to settle down and bring up children …” I couldn’t hear what she said next, but knowing her I assumed it was something like, “So, do you have any?” I knew exactly what was coming next. Not married? Really? Either is Hanna. She’s back in town too.

  Just as Sam told her to sit down because he had a few questions for her, two of Grannie’s friends walked by. I jumped back as if I wasn’t listening at the door, and greeted them as if I was just innocently hanging out in the hall.

  “Isn’t it awful?” Helen said to me in a stage whisper. “Of course you never want your opponent to win a hand, especially when you’re playing for a chance to move on to the Big Time. But Louise only said what everyone knew. Mary cheated at cards. She got other people to cover for her. We all knew it. But nobody had the guts to tell her until Louise did. That’s what I told the officer. She was just being our mouthpiece. That’s Louise.”

  I swallowed hard. Maybe she shouldn’t have volunteered to be their mouthpiece. Reluctant to leave the vicinity, I hooked my arms with theirs and the three of us walked down the hall to the well-appointed TV lounge, which was empty since everyone was out watching the police cars. I turned off the TV and closed the door.

  We sat down in front of the faux fireplace faced with antique marble with a faux fire burning cheerfully. I took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as possible. “What did she say, actually?”

  “Louise was right,” Grace said. “Right after we had our coffee and pie on Wednesday, and by the way your pie was absolutely delicious, and so unusual. Who would have thought of combining cranberries with walnuts in a cream pie? Anyway, Mary started in. She bids six of Spades, she leads with the Ace, and bingo, she starts pulling her ear, twisting her ring, and staring at her partner. It was so obvious, and it’s not the first time. So finally Louise couldn’t take it anymore. She’s the only one who had the nerve to call her on it. That doesn’t mean she did it.”

  I leaned forward. “Did what? Who did what?”

  “Killed Mary,” Helen said. “I don’t care what they say, nobody killed Mary. All Louise said was ‘Cheating is a crime, you know. In the old days it was punishable by death.’”

  Uh oh. No wonder Sam was questioning Grannie.

  “It’s not her fault Mary got caught,” Grace said. “And got what was coming to her. What happened was she had a stroke right there at the table and keeled over. She was guilty as hell and she knew it. That’s what I told the officer too when he asked me if anyone had a motive for wishing Mary was dead. Did you see him? I thought he was new in town, but it turns out he grew up here. Very handsome fellow, don’t you think? If I was a few years younger …” She tilted her head to one side and stared off into space for a moment while she tapped her red fingernails on the coffee table.

  My head was spinning. A picture was forming in my mind, but there were still a few pieces missing from this puzzle. “So Mary had a stroke on Wednesday,” I said. “Then died the same day.”

  “That’s right. The ambulance came and took her away and later we heard she’d passed away at the hospital,” Helen added. “They flew the flag at half-mast and we had a moment of silence at the dinner table, just like we always do.”

  I admired the matter-of-fact way the women accepted death, and I hoped some day I’d be able to do the same.

  “So why are the police here?” I asked. “If it was an
accident.” I knew what the official explanation was, but I wanted to know what they thought. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

  Helen and Grace exchanged looks. Then Helen shrugged.

  “It’s her crazy family. She told us and everybody who would listen to her someone was out to get her, so when she croaked, her daughter decided she was telling the truth.” Helen sighed. “So here comes the police and the big investigation. Kind of exciting in a way.”

  Grace chimed in. “I’ve got to say, Mary would have loved it. She always wanted to be the center of attention. Dead or alive.”

  “Not that Mary didn’t have enemies,” Helen said. “Let’s face it, she was not a lovable person. Some might even say she was conniving and controlling. But murder? At Heavenly Acres? It’s ridiculous. It was her conditions that killed her. Any booby knows that. We’re all just lucky to be alive. Do you know what the life expectancy was in Queen Victoria’s time?”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t either,” she said, “but I think it’s about forty. We’re living longer, but at our age we’ve all got something to complain about. What I always say is if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Know what I mean? If you can’t take the stress of Bridge, if you haven’t got the chops anymore, have the decency to quit and stick to Go Fish. But now that she’s dead, she’s out of the tournament. Your grandmother Louise will move up and represent Heavenly Acres in Sacramento. We’ll rent a van and we’ll all be there to root for her.”

  Grace clapped her multi-jeweled hands together and smiled at me.

  I leaned back in my chair and contemplated what I’d learned from the two of them. Sam must know by now that Grannie not only called Mary out on her cheating, perhaps causing her stroke, but she’d directly benefited from her death by moving up in the Bridge tournament. That didn’t seem to bother these “girls” in the least. Were they as ruthless and cutthroat as they seemed? Or were they just realistic? When you face the fact that death is just around the corner for all of us, maybe you accept it more easily. Again a knock on the door and this time I wasn’t surprised to find Officer Sam standing there.

  “I’m asking all the residents to gather in the dining room.” He looked at me as if he knew I’d try to escape. “This means you too, Hanna. If you would.”

  “But I don’t live here,” I explained as calmly as I could. Did I really need to explain that I wasn’t over fifty-five and eligible for admission to a seniors-only facility? I was just about to tell him I had a shop to run when he said, “Be there,” in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

  In the lounge with the blue and gold striped wallpaper and the folding chairs filled with residents, I hung out in the rear doorway and tried to make myself invisible. And I wondered what in the hell I was doing there as I canvassed the place. There was Grannie flanked by her two Bridge buddies. I wished I’d had a chance to ask her what else Sam had said to her, but there was no time. I just hoped she gave the right answers and he’d look elsewhere for his murderer. Across the room was a dapper old gentleman elegantly dressed in a cravat and a smoking jacket whose gaze was fixed on Grannie. For a moment I thought he winked at her. Was this the murderer? Or the boyfriend she’d only hinted at?

  I shifted my gaze when Sam introduced himself.

  “As your new police chief,” he said, “I hope you will feel free to come to me with any problem you have, legal, criminal, or otherwise. My door is always open.”

  He paused and looked around the room as if he thought someone might jump up and spring a problem on him on the spot. They didn’t. Then he continued. “I was born and bred right here in Crystal Cove and I love this town as much as you do.” He mentioned the hills and the sandy beaches and the beautiful weather and pledged to uphold the law and keep the streets safe for all citizens. I almost gagged. He sounded like he was running for mayor. Maybe he was. Maybe police chief was just a stepping stone. Safe streets? Come on. This was no New York City. It wasn’t even Sacramento.

  Was this some kind of role Sam was playing? Or had he really changed that much? What happened to the fast-talking, wild-eyed guy who put the cow on the roof of the high school the day of graduation? Where was the champion wrestler who could drink anyone under the table? Who left town under a cloud of suspicion? I swear he looked straight at me when he said his door was always open, as if daring me to walk in and confess to something. Anything.

  You hear about zombies eating human brains. I never believed in them before, but I was beginning to wonder. If it wasn’t a zombie, maybe it was aliens that stole his original bad-boy brain and exchanged it for one from an ultimate law-and-order guy.

  “I want to apologize for interrupting the Friday afternoon Bingo game,” Sam continued, “but I am opening a murder investigation into the death of Mary Brandt.”

  The whole room gave a collective gasp.

  Sam ploughed on. “I hope you will all bear with me as I have a short meeting with each and every resident right here at Heavenly Acres to get to the bottom of this crime on these premises. Not to alarm anyone, but the majority of murders take place in the home or workplace. I can’t leave any stone unturned or any party uninvestigated. I hope you understand my only goal is to keep you safe from harm.”

  A cacophony of murmurs spread through the crowd.

  Again he seemed determined to ignore them. “So as not to cause anyone to disrupt their daily activities,” he continued, “the management has graciously allowed me to use the housekeeper’s office for my interviews. A schedule will be posted outside the door. See me if you have a scheduling conflict.”

  I looked around. The excitement in the dining room was palpable. I had to think they weren’t too shocked to welcome this unexpected turn of events. I would have thought they’d be worried and frightened, thinking there was a murderer right here where they lived. Maybe they were. Or maybe they didn’t understand the implication of what he’d said. Instead they were on the edge of their chairs, alive, alert, and stimulated. All eyes were glued to Sam, the picture of a tough, good-looking TV detective, all hearing aids turned up to full volume as they appeared to relish the idea of a criminal investigation, not on television, not in Miami or Chicago, but right here before their very eyes.

  Maybe they were also riveted by Sam’s unexpected presence on their turf, because most of the women were staring at him as if the star of Die Hard 2 had suddenly appeared to solve a crime right in their serene, secure, pricey retirement home. The new Chief of Police paused again and then cut to the chase.

  “In preparation for your interviews, I would like you all to search your memories for any information concerning the deceased Mrs. Brandt. If you have any theories, or can think of any small detail, an overheard conversation perhaps or any suspicious activities that might help us solve the murder of one of your residents, I would like to hear it. I’m counting on your help in this matter. And your discretion.”

  Murmurs swept through the room once again. Murder? Suspicious activities?

  Sam went on. “Naturally, whatever you choose to tell me will be held in complete confidence.”

  Hands shot up.

  “You mean we’re supposed to rat on our friends?” a man in tennis shorts and a Lacoste T-shirt asked, his eyes wide behind his bifocals.

  “‘Rat’ is not a word I would have chosen,” Sam said calmly. “I’m sure you are just as anxious as the police department is in solving this mystery and keeping you safe from wrongdoers in our midst. I’m asking you for whatever information you have, that’s all. My job in this town is to protect the innocent. To do that, I must prosecute the guilty to the full extent of the law. Whoever killed Mary Brandt may still be in our community. He or she may be someone you know. I don’t want to frighten any of you in this room, but my goal, which should also be yours, is to find Mary Brandt’s killer as soon as possible. Then we can all go back to enjoying the perks of living in this small, beautiful, law-abiding town we call home.”

  “What if my interv
iew is the same time as flower arranging?” a woman wearing a pale gray cashmere sweater set and pearls asked. I had to give her credit. She’d doubtless heard the words “murder” and “kill” in conjunction with the people in this room and yet she was worried about missing flower arranging. First things first. I wondered if this was a typical reaction.

  “I’ll be happy to change the schedule to accommodate your prior commitments,” Sam said.

  “What if I heard something suspicious but I don’t know if it means anything?” a man in a San Francisco Giants visor cap asked.

  “I welcome hearing anything that you can think of. Anything at all. No information is too small or trivial. I will be able to judge if it’s relevant or not. Please don’t hold anything back no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

  After a few more questions of this nature, I could imagine Sam rolling his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to deal with these elder citizens, but to his credit he seemed ready to stay there until everyone was satisfied. He actually looked genuinely interested in what they had to say. Maybe they had a class at the Academy in Listening and Respecting the Public No Matter How Dumb Their Questions Are.

  A woman in tailored slacks and a printed scarf arranged artfully over a sweater asked, “How can we get in touch with you if we have something to tell you that can’t wait until our interview?”

  Sam gave her and everyone his cell phone number and said he was looking forward to hearing from them, anytime, night or day. Solving this crime was his number one priority. Lacking a piece of paper, I wrote the number down on my arm with a pen I borrowed. I intended to call him ASAP to tell him to lay off my grandmother.

  He closed the meeting by apologizing once again for disrupting their lives at the residence, but there was a murder to be solved. He was sure he could count on every one of them to be discreet and helpful. Then he wished everyone a good evening, left the room, and pealed away in his patrol car.