A Good Day to Pie

by Carol Culver

  He might have thought he was blending in with the crowd so he could do some sleuthing, but I and most of the residents probably noticed him right away. He’d stood out from the crowd in high school with his unruly hair and his wild antics and though no longer the wild child he once was, he was still hard to ignore. My heart gave a lurch when I saw him, as if this was still high school and I was a hormone-charged teenager. Only now that I knew more about him I felt a pang of sympathy for what he’d gone through, or I would have if he wasn’t after my grandmother. I gave myself a stern warning to focus on the older residents and Mary’s family members.

  Still stung by Kate’s remarks about how I’d let myself go, I was wearing a little black dress I used to wear in the city for weddings, the opera, and even job interviews, but this was the dress’s and my first memorial service. With it I wore a pair of strappy black high-heeled sandals. The complete opposite of the usual professional attire I wore while baking. I felt good about myself and my pies and glad to see Grannie was looking smart though a little pale in a black lace dress surrounded by her group of friends, also dressed appropriately in black.

  I was relieved there was no body in a casket, even though I knew the reason was the corpse was at the medical examiner’s. Even a dead body couldn’t put a damper on a beautiful summer day in Crystal Cove. The cool breeze off the ocean rustled the fronds of the palm trees that framed the patio. And the fragrance of dewy hybrid roses filled the air. It made a person glad to be alive. Glad to be back in a small Central California town even though there was a murderer somewhere nearby—perhaps biding his or her time? Plotting the next crime? Scoping out his or her next victim?

  Maybe my suspicions were not that unusual. Not at the memorial service of a murder victim. Why else was Sam here if not to look around and see who was acting strange? On the other hand, I felt strangely upbeat. Maybe attending a service made one especially glad to be alive. Surely I wasn’t the only one counting my blessings. I was alive and so far I was free to come and go. So far, Sam hadn’t told me to stay in town. Although I would have been glad to, since my town was a beautiful, white-washed seaside town. Maybe that’s why Grannie was able to bounce back from her polygraph test so fast. I hovered at the edge of the crowd behind a towering Bailey palm tree so I could watch the mourners file by and search their faces for signs of tears of revenge, duty, jealousy … whatever.

  “Looks like the whole town is here,” I muttered to Kate when she walked in with her husband, Jack, both looking properly serious.

  She craned her neck and gave my dress a once-over then favored me with an approving nod. “Probably heard about the pies,” she murmured. “Wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

  I didn’t want to miss anything either, which is why I was hiding behind my sunglasses, watching everyone who came in. The last people to arrive were the family. Blake was the only one who saw me and gave me a dazzling smile. His white teeth flashed in his handsome suntanned face. The others brushed by me and took their seats in the front row.

  The service was brief, no mention of foul play, only glowing memories of Mary’s life told by a minister, and nice words from the director of the retirement home about how Mary was such an active member of the community there at Heavenly Acres and how much she’d be missed.

  “We will miss her at the Friday night Sing-Alongs, Bible Study, and, of course, the Bridge table,” he said. As if he’d ever sat across from her at Bridge. If he had, he’d miss her hand signals and her other cheating ways I’d heard about. I held my breath when he uttered those last words, but the skies didn’t fall, the earth didn’t shake. I looked around hoping to see someone blanche or gag or give me a sign of their guilt. There were a few red eyes and at least one woman was sobbing. I heard the woman next to me say it was Donna, Mary’s Bridge partner and best friend. I must ask her, would she look for a new partner or quit the game completely?

  Then it was time for the reception. Chairs were cleared and tables set up. Pie wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Her family had ordered the kitchen to prepare small appetizers, and staff members in uniforms were pouring California wines.

  I went to the residential kitchen to check on the pie supply. I was happy to see a good selection out on the tables along with a coffee urn. With some kitchen staff women doing the cutting and serving, I almost felt like a guest at my own party.

  I came outside again and was just starting to relax and enjoy the sun, the view, and the compliments.

  “This is delicious.”

  “Wonderful pie, did you have the pecan?”

  “Try the apple. It’s the best.”

  I was feeling pretty good until I heard someone else say, “But not as good as her grandmother’s.”

  Suddenly a scream split the air. It was Grannie on the other side of the rose bushes. I knew it.

  I spun around. I gasped. There on the stone patio lay the same suave gray-haired man I’d seen the other night, the one who appeared to be interested in Grannie. He was flat on his back, a broken pie plate next to him in shards and an unmistakable stain of coconut custard on his cold lips. My grandmother was standing next to him, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes as round as the coffee cup in her trembling hand.

  No, it couldn’t be. Was this another suspicious death involving one of my pies? It took every ounce of restraint I had to keep from rushing over to wipe the telltale crumbs off the man’s mouth and pick up the broken pieces of plate from the tiled deck. I looked across the crowd at Sam, and he met my gaze for only a second and shook his head slightly. Was he sending me a message to “Stay out of this” or was he thinking “There she goes again,” or did the warning look on his face have nothing to do with me?

  Whatever he thought, it only took seconds for our new Chief of Police to take charge. He motioned Grannie to step back. Then he cordoned off the part of the patio where the man lay and immediately began giving him CPR while the rest of us hovered on the periphery, watching anxiously. If only the victim had not eaten any pie before keeling over. Or if he had, I prayed this was not another murder where my pie was incriminated. In the distance I heard sirens. No doubt the ambulance knew exactly where to come, given the frequency of medical emergencies at Heavenly Acres. And the most recent catastrophe involving Mary Brandt and a piece of my pie.

  When the paramedics arrived, they cleared the patio immediately and the mourners scattered, some to the lounge inside, others to the parking lot. I headed for the kitchen, where I had a good view of my pies and of the medics carrying the man out on a stretcher. When the ambulance left, I ventured out again and so did most of the other guests. The atmosphere was definitely subdued. People spoke in hushed tones and looked somber, but then this was a memorial service, after all. A reminder that death was always just around the corner.

  When I found Grannie, she was looking even more pale than before and staring off in the direction of the ambulance. I said, “Did you know that man?”

  She nodded and she blinked back a tear. “Bob Barnett. One of my good friends.” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Actually, we were dating.” Her cheeks reddened. “I can’t help worrying about him. I should go to the hospital to see if he’s okay. Can you give me a ride?”

  “Sure. If you can wait while I check on the pie situation.”

  Dating, she’d said. What did that mean? Sitting together at the Friday night movie? Star-gazing from the rooftop garden? Dancing? Dining? Sex? I didn’t really want to hear any details.

  “Is it a secret?” I asked. “Your dating, I mean.”

  “This place is a hotbed of gossip,” she said in a semi-whisper. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but you can’t keep a secret if you tried. Especially after Mary …”

  I nodded. “I can imagine.”

  She pulled me aside. “Bob and Mary were well, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  Grannie cupped her hand around her mouth and fixed me with her wide-eyed gaze. “He was seeing her
for a while. Before me. Until she drove him crazy. She was very possessive. Like a stalker. So he …”

  “Yes?” I leaned in toward her. “What did he do?” Did he kill her? If he did, you must tell Sam. If only to save your own skin. This is no time to protect a friend.

  “Louise.” Grannie’s chum Helen came up behind us and put her arm around Grannie. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine. I love a good service, don’t you?” Grannie said with forced cheer. “A chance to get dressed up. Speak well of the deceased no matter how you feel. Mix and mingle. You know.”

  Helen smiled. “It was beautiful. The pies were just fabulous. And the weather. Perfect as usual. Couldn’t ask for anything better. Just what I’d want, wouldn’t you?” She included me in her gaze as well as their friend Grace who’d joined our group. I assured her it was exactly what I’d want.

  “Except for the part where Bob passed out,” Grace said. “Anyone hear how he’s doing?”

  “Hanna’s going to take me to the hospital on her way home. It’s the only way to get the facts from the horse’s mouth, I mean the doctor’s. Otherwise you just get the runaround. Especially if you’re not family. It’s just hearsay.”

  “How true,” Helen said. She tilted her head to give Grannie a sharp look. She knows, I thought. She knows that Grannie is involved with this Bob. Why else would someone go to the hospital to check on someone if they weren’t connected in some way or more than just a casual friend? “He should have someone he knows there when he wakes up. Otherwise it can be very disorienting,” Helen added.

  I liked Helen’s optimistic attitude. After all, the last inhabitant of Heavenly Acres who was taken away did not wake up.

  I looked around the patio. Helen and Grace both drifted away, after telling Grannie to call them from the hospital with any news. I noticed the chief had disappeared. Gone to the hospital as well? I didn’t see any of Mary’s family. Gone home? Too sad to hang around?

  The Heavenly Acres administration had removed the cordon and the guests who were left were standing around in tight knots. They were drinking coffee, eating pie, and speaking in hushed tones as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the grove of heritage maple trees. Just the kind of occasion a pie-baker longed for. The more people who tasted my pies and associated my shop with a special occasion, be it funeral or wedding or holiday, the better. I confess hearing the compliments about my crust or filling filled me with a rich, creamy satisfying feeling. Kind of like eating a piece of coconut custard pie with a graham cracker crust.

  “I’m really concerned about Bob,” Grannie said, her good cheer seeming to have evaporated when her friends left. As if she no longer had to pretend or put on a happy face. I was almost glad she had someone else to worry about other than herself.

  “Did he have any medical problem that you knew about?” I asked. “Taking any medication? Any dietary restrictions? Am I right in thinking he’d eaten a piece of coconut pie?” I didn’t mean to overwhelm her with my rapid-fire questions, but I was a little worried too, for a different reason. All I needed was another pie-related death on these premises. Besides my business taking a hit, I already had one pie-type murder to solve. I didn’t need another.

  “Probably. He’s on a low-fat diet, but he loves to eat. He was taking some pills and he had a weak heart. Otherwise, he’s very fit and vigorous.”

  “Uh oh,” I said. I hated to hear that about his diet and his weak heart. I could have made a low-cal pie with gelatin and yogurt, but I hated to go down that road.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Grannie said, putting one manicured hand on my shoulder. “People have to take responsibility for their own health.”

  “I know, but still … I’ll be ready in a minute. Then I’ll take you to the hospital if you still want to go.”

  She said she did, so I left her sitting on a stone bench looking pensively out at the view of the cove that no longer seemed to sparkle as it did earlier in the day. I went back to the kitchen where two women in black uniforms and white aprons were washing dishes at the huge industrial double stainless sink and dishing some dirt at the same time. When I heard them mention Mary Brandt, I stopped in the doorway and listened shamelessly.

  “I gave the bitch back the earrings,” the one said. At least I thought that’s what she said. Maybe it was witch and not bitch. With the water running as she rinsed the dishes, I couldn’t be sure. “Even though she told me I could keep them. Told me she didn’t want them anymore, they reminded her of her dead husband. So I took them and then she tells everyone I stole them. Trying to get me fired. I’m on probation and I’d be out of a job if she was still here, the lying … You know she told me …”

  I leaned forward but couldn’t hear the rest of the sentence.

  The other girl spoke up. “She was out of her mind. Everyone said she deserved to die. You’re not the only one.”

  “Don’t tell anyone I said that. Or they’ll think …”

  At that moment the one woman turned and saw me. She poked her friend, the one who’d given the bitch back her earrings, and they stopped talking.

  “Just checking on the pies,” I said lightly. “I want to leave the leftovers here and I’ll be back later for the pie pans.”

  “Very good, Ma’am,” the friend said like she was a servant out of some British drama. Nothing like being called Ma’am to make you feel old.

  I left the extra pie on the counter with the empty pie pans and went back outside. I beckoned to Grannie on the patio and we walked out to the parking lot without speaking. I had a million questions for her, but she looked as if she’d been through the wringer, her forehead as wrinkled as her dress, so I didn’t say anything during the twenty-minute ride to the Our Lady of Angels Hospital.

  I parked in the emergency lot and we went in and asked at the Admissions Desk about Bob Barnett.

  “Are you his wife?” the clerk said.

  I poked Grannie in the ribs and said, “She’s his sister.”

  “I’ll tell the doctor. He’ll want to have a word with you.”

  Grannie thanked her and we sat down in the waiting room.

  “His sister?” Grannie asked me with a puzzled frown.

  “You can’t say you’re just a friend, or they won’t let you see him or tell you anything. You want to find out something, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes you amaze me. You’ve got, what do they call it, street smarts.”

  “Thank you. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  Soon a doctor who was wearing a crisp white jacket and short gray hair like he was in a TV ad for a weight-loss program came out to the lobby. He explained to Bob’s “sister” that Bob was resting comfortably.

  “Then he wasn’t poisoned?” she asked anxiously.

  “Poisoned?” He took a step backward, shook his head and finally gave Grannie a reassuring smile. If he was surprised by her question, he recovered well. He acted like maybe everyone whose brother passed out might ask about the possibility of poison. “I didn’t check for poison. Your brother suffered a mild heart attack from an overdose of his ED medication. It happens. He’ll be fine.”

  I gave an inward sigh of relief. My pie had nothing to do with Bob’s collapse. I shot a quizzical glance at Grannie because I wondered. Did she know ED stood for erectile dysfunction, or was she playing it cooler than I gave her credit for?

  “Can I see him?” she asked.

  “Just for a few minutes. He shouldn’t be overly stimulated. The nurse is with him now taking his vital signs. We’ll let you know when you can go in. Room thirty-six A.”

  “Thank you.”

  When the doctor left, Grannie turned to me and spoke softly. “I told you before. Between you and me, I’m glad Mary’s dead.”

  “You said ‘between you and me—’ does that mean you didn’t tell Sam how you felt about Mary? That morning in the station?”

  “I think he knew.”

  “I hope he also knows you’re not the
only one who’s glad Mary’s dead.”

  “Bob for sure.”

  “How come?”

  “She had her claws into him. He told me he was terrified of her. He’d do anything to get away from her clutches.”

  “Anything?” I asked, startled. Would he tamper with her medicine? Would he kill her?

  “No, not anything. He didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, who did?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” she said.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised at her determination. That’s the way she was. But I hoped she wouldn’t put herself in danger trying to find out.

  “I wouldn’t blame Bob if he did. But I know he didn’t. Do you know what the ratio of women to men is at Heavenly? Ten to one. Mary wanted a man. She went after Bob. She was ruthless.”

  “But he wanted you.”

  “Well …” She gave a modest little shrug.

  Just then a nurse came and motioned for Grannie to follow her. She didn’t jump up and run down the hall. Instead she seemed a little hesitant. Was she afraid just her presence would excite her boyfriend and cause a relapse? Or was she afraid she’d lost the power to excite him and didn’t want to test it? Or was she going to ask him if this meant he had to give up his ED medication? And if so …

  I balled my hands into fists as I tried to stop my runaway imagination from going berserk. It was none of my business what my grandmother did behind closed doors, as long as she wasn’t plotting to get rid of a Bridge or romantic rival.

  “You go ahead,” I said to Grannie. “I’ll wait here.”

  She nodded and finally walked away down the hall.

  I picked up an old issue of Sunset magazine and perused the recipes. Grasshopper Pie. Now that was a blast from the past. Two kinds of liqueur and a cookie crumb crust. I could do that. Maybe have a nostalgic appeal to the older crowd that seemed to be my crowd these days.