A Good Day to Pie

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A Good Day to Pie Page 10

by Carol Culver


  “Obviously, or he wouldn’t be Chief of Police. You’ve changed too. Has he noticed?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “What did he say?”

  “Besides telling me not to spy for him or play detective? Not much.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I agreed to butt out of police business.”

  She coughed. She didn’t believe me, I could tell. “Just like that?”

  “I had to.”

  “Come on.”

  “I had to agree. I don’t have to actually do it as long as Sam doesn’t know about it. He can’t honestly expect me to sit on the sidelines while my grandmother is suspected of murder and questioned like a common criminal.”

  I thought she was going to choke on a pecan. “He really does suspect your grandmother … No way! He couldn’t possibly.”

  “He does. He says she had the motive, the means, and the opportunity. Face it, Grannie threatened Mary, she hated Mary, and she’s glad she’s dead. Do you know Sam called her in and gave her a polygraph test?”

  “Did she pass?”

  “Inconclusive. But that doesn’t mean she’s off the hook as far as he’s concerned. It doesn’t look good. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he take her off his list of prime suspects like he did Bob Barnett? In fact, I don’t know if he has a list, even though I could give him one.”

  “But Sam won’t let you, is that right?”

  “Technically no, but I figure what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I’m going to make my list and I’m going to seek out everyone on it and make them talk. They might be more willing to talk to a simple baker than a cop. What have I got to lose?”

  “Sam’s good opinion of you?”

  “Hah. Compared to clearing Grannie’s name? That’s a no-brainer.”

  “But what happens when you show him your list of suspects and tell him who’s on top of the list?”

  “Since I don’t have a list, it seems premature. Besides, he won’t take me seriously unless I’ve got an air-tight confession. He’ll just brush me off like a pesky gnat. And I mean something in writing or … something.”

  “Wow, you don’t mess around,” Kate said.

  “He’s a cop. I understand where he’s coming from. He can’t let amateurs solve his crimes or he’d be out of a job. In every mystery I’ve ever read, the detective warns the amateur sleuth to get lost. To leave the mystery solving to him, the big macho hero. So I get it. But I can’t go along with it. I will find out who killed Mary. One, because I have to save my grandmother from going to prison and two, because …”

  “You need some excitement in your life?”

  “I’m not looking for excitement. I’m looking for a calm, peaceful life baking pies. Is that too much to ask?” I didn’t want to admit it would be a challenge to be in the middle of a murder investigation as long as no one I cared about got hurt, but this was not the case.

  “So if there is no list, where do you even start?” Kate asked.

  “In my humble opinion, the murderer is either someone from Heavenly Acres or someone in the family. Whoever had the most to gain from her inheritance.”

  “That’s pretty general,” Kate said. “Can you be more specific?”

  “Just off the top of my head, I’m thinking her daughter because one, I’m assuming she’s the main heir and two, from the way she glared at me. Then there’s Bob, even though Sam doesn’t agree. But Bob wanted to get rid of Mary, his own personal black widow.”

  “You really think Linda should be on your list? Rumor has it Mary gave all her money to a pit bull rescue mission.”

  “I’m not sure of anything. From what you say, I should be investigating the pit bulls that stand to benefit most from her death. It’s not what Sam wants, but I’m starting with the family. As it happens, your friend Blake called this morning and said he’s coming by to give me a check for the pies I made for the service.”

  “So that’s why you look so different. No apron and you even curled your hair.”

  “Don’t get the wrong idea,” I cautioned, feeling my face redden. “This is all in the interest of absolving Grannie by finding out who done it myself. If it weren’t that Sam suspects Grannie, I’d be happy to call it an unsolved mystery and let Sam muddle through it. But I can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can’t. The good thing is there are two eligible guys in town and you are not hiding behind your apron and mixing dough. I’m proud of you. You’re out looking and listening and selling pies and enticing the men into the shop.”

  “I am not enticing anyone,” I protested, maybe a little too strongly. “They come to see me for one reason or another. I’m a professional baker and only an amateur sleuth. And I’m not interested in hooking up with anyone in town or out of town.

  “I’m motivated to do one thing only. And you know what it is. Sure, Sam needs to solve the murder, that’s his job, but that’s nothing compared to saving your own grandmother. So after I have a little chat with Blake, I’m going up to Heavenly Acres and see what I can find out up there. At the same time hustling pie business.”

  “I like the way you hedge your bets. Keep a family member and one of the old folks both on your list. Just in case.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Now I see why you’ve decided to take my advice and kick up your image.” She tilted her head to look over my leggings and long hip-hugging light-weight cotton sweater. “Green is a good color on you. Brings out the color of your eyes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not wasted on the senior citizens. Did you say Sam was going up there to interview everyone?”

  “That’s right, but …”

  “I know you’re not interested in hooking up with anyone. You’re only interested in your career. What really happened while you were gone to make you so gun-shy?”

  What could I say without giving a personal history of my past decade or so, including the partnership I was in with the guy who ditched me and left me broke and broken-hearted. Nobody, not even my best friend, or Sam, or my grandmother needed to know how dumb I’d been.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “And very boring.”

  “Maybe some other time,” she said with a thoughtful look in my direction.

  “Sure,” I said, but I meant “Never.”

  “Speaking of guns,” Kate said. “Aren’t you afraid what might happen if you get too close to the murderer? Somebody might try to scare you off. Check the brakes in your car before you take off. Maybe you ought to be packing some heat just in case you hit a nerve.”

  “You’re going overboard,” I said, but I shuddered thinking of toting a concealed weapon under my apron. “I already have too much on my plate to worry about my own safety. I have to keep baking and selling and trying new recipes to tempt the populace. Besides keeping an eye on Grannie. I’m even thinking of joining the Bridge players, and sitting in on a game to hear the latest gossip. Does that show you that I’m serious about this? I know nothing about Bridge. I might even be murdered myself for bidding the wrong thing or showing my hand by mistake. What other reason could I have for hanging around the premises and asking a lot of questions?”

  “How about giving lessons in pie baking?”

  “Why would a bunch of seniors who get three square meals a day prepared by a staff want to make pies?”

  Kate had to admit I had a point.

  “Now if only I knew how to teach square dance or jitterbug, swing two-step or other fun dances. Though if that’s what they wanted, they’d probably already have it.”

  “What about a book club?”

  “I could put up a notice and see if anyone signs up. Then I have to read the books.”

  “Well, yes,” Kate said. “Is that a problem?”

  “I guess you’re thinking I have plenty of time between customers to read books.” I looked around. The shop was empty at the
moment. The pies in the case and on the shelves were as appetizing as ever and ready to be eaten by anyone who popped in. “Another thing I thought of. I might hand out discount coupons for morning pie and coffee while I’m at the retirement home. Even though all the residents are richer than God, who doesn’t love a bargain?”

  “Good idea and it just might work.” Kate gave me a thumbs up for my brilliant idea. “Coffee and pie special. Buy one, get one free. Eat in or take-away. Free refills. Happy Hour starts at ten—in the morning.”

  “I’ll do it. The place could be filled with the older crowd mixing in with my core customers.”

  We both glanced around. Not a core customer in sight.

  “I mean when I get my core customers.”

  “Which could be any moment,” Kate assured me.

  “By the way, are you going to that party Tammy and Lindsey are giving tonight?” I asked.

  “Where they sell sex toys? I guess so. What else is there to do for excitement in this town? What about you?”

  “They ordered pies for the party and I actually have filled their order already.” I waved my hand at the pies in the case above the counter. “I’m going to deliver them, that’s all.”

  “Parties you will always remember for nights you will never forget. That’s what it said on the e-vite. So you should stay for the fun.”

  “I thought it was to spice up your sex life, and since I don’t have one …”

  “Not now, but I predict you will in the near future. Be prepared. That’s what you have to do. A week ago you had no man in your life, now you’ve got two. If you wanted them, that is. Which you don’t. For the possibility, you should thank Mary Brandt, may she rest in peace, for getting murdered. Who knows what will happen next week?”

  “I thought nothing ever happened here.”

  “It didn’t used to. Then you came back. Coincidence or … fate?” She wiped her sticky hands on a napkin. “You decide. I hope you decide to stay for the party. It’s not your mother’s Tupperware, you know.”

  “What are the products, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. This is my first time. Come and find out. Or are you afraid to tap into your latent sexuality?”

  “I’m afraid of getting stuck in a room with a bunch of lascivious women I never wanted to see again trying out lotions and potions and lingerie …”

  “I thought you didn’t know what the products were.”

  “I’m guessing.”

  “You know who’s going to be there? Blake’s sister Melissa. I don’t know if she’s on your list, but you can ask her who she suspects of murdering her grandmother.”

  “Not a bad idea,” I murmured. I’d bet anything Sam hadn’t gotten to her yet.

  “If Melissa turns bright red and drops the vibrating panties she’s thinking of buying, you’ll know she knows something. Then you can turn up the heat and do whatever those detectives do on TV, skillfully make her talk. If she says it was your grandmother, you’ve got a chance to talk her out of it after a few fancy drinks.”

  “Speaking of the Wilson family,” I muttered, jumping to my feet as Blake pulled up in front of the shop in the family’s Hummer. “There’s Blake now.”

  Kate almost spilled her coffee, she was so eager to get a look at the former high school hero. First she beamed at him and greeted him like he was her long-lost brother. Then she paused at the door to say, “I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

  “Thanks,” he said with an appropriate sober look of sadness. But was it real? Wasn’t he really glad to pick up his own inheritance sooner rather than later?

  “How is your family holding up?”

  “Fine. I mean it’s hard. Gram was such a … a …”

  Cheater? That was one way to describe her.

  “Great old lady,” he said at last. “She’ll be missed.” He didn’t say who would miss her. I had a feeling there wasn’t a big crowd.

  “Good to see you, Blake,” Kate said. “I hope you’ll stick around for a while and not rush back to New York. I realize this is not the most exciting town in the world, but we do have a few things going for us. Great weather, beautiful beaches, old friends.” She slanted a direct look in my direction. “Even Hanna has found her way back from the big city. You two have a lot in common.” With that parting shot, she left. Probably convinced she’d subtly thrown us together and I’d owe her big-time for the favor.

  “So right,” he said, giving me the once-over. I was wondering if he noticed the green flecks in my hazel eyes and my new curly hair. I’d never admit I curled my hair for Blake, but Kate was right, it was time I stopped hiding behind my apron. I wasn’t looking for a man, I was looking for a murderer. I just hoped they weren’t one and the same.

  “What can I get you?” I asked Blake. He looked at the refrigerated case and I looked at him. I didn’t expect fireworks, but suddenly a loud boom filled the air followed by a huge whooshing sound. I jumped and my heart pounded. Alarmed, Blake jerked his head toward the kitchen at the rear of the shop.

  “My pies,” I shouted as I ran to the kitchen where I had a pan of apple turnovers baking in Grannie’s vintage oven. Black smoke was creeping out from the closed oven door and filling the room. I blinked back tears that stung my eyes, bent over, and opened the oven door, which fell toward me with a thud, and yellow flames burst out. I reached for the knob to turn off the oven but it broke off in my hand. I screamed as my apron caught fire.

  “Get the fire extinguisher,” I shouted, pointing to the far corner of the kitchen with one hand and beating my apron with the other.

  Blake found the red cylinder with the black handle and in seconds he was fumbling with the pin. Then he squeezed the lever and sprayed me with white powder. I coughed, I wheezed, but at least I was no longer on fire. But my apron was ruined. I was breathing hard and Blake was still clutching the fire extinguisher in his arms.

  “Thanks,” I said when I stopped coughing. “For saving my life.” Although my turnovers were ruined.

  He nodded, too overwhelmed with either smoke or emotion to speak. We staggered out to the shop and I opened the door and the windows. My legs wobbled. I fell into a chair and took huge gulps of fresh air.

  “In all these years,” I said weakly, “I don’t think there’s ever been an oven fire. Wonder what caused it?” Kate’s words filtered through my smoke-filled brain. Aren’t you afraid what could happen if you get too close to the murderer? Somebody might try to scare you off.

  Blake shook his head. He was leaning against the wall, his bleached blond hair standing on end, his eyebrows singed and his face drained of that fabulous tan he had when he arrived. I could only imagine how I must look with a layer of soot on my face.

  He looked so different from the suave guy I saw at his house over gin and tonics, that I started to laugh. I couldn’t stop until I was almost hysterical. It was partly the shock of the explosion and partly the ridiculous situation of being blown up in my shop with Blake.

  He looked at me and burst out laughing himself. My knees were so weak I couldn’t get up. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, leaned over and wiped my face with it. Who would have thought a rich, macho guy would have such a gentle touch? But he did. He looked at me with a crooked grin on his face. I grinned back.

  “What caused it?” he repeated. “That’s a question for the police chief or for your repair man.”

  “Police chief ?” I said. I refused to see any connection between the faulty oven and the long arm of the law. It was a coincidence, that’s all. “I’ll call a guy I know to fix it.” I’d call him as soon as I caught my breath and washed the soot off my face.

  “Good idea. Officer Krupke has too much to do solving the murder of my grandmother.”

  “So you’re sure …”

  “I only know what they tell me,” he said, shaking some ashes out of his hair. “Why else would the chief make another appointment to come out and ask my mother a lot of questions, like where was she the nigh
t Gram died? Who stands to inherit her money? I can tell you Mom isn’t happy about that. She thinks she’s under suspicion. For killing her own mother. Well, I’d better be off. Change my clothes before I see somebody I know. And here’s your check.” He reached into his back pocket and handed me a check on his mother’s account for the memorial service pies. A glance told me it was a very generous amount.

  “Thanks again,” I said, standing up carefully for fear of collapsing. So I’d accomplished two things: I collected my money and heard that Linda was on Sam’s list as well as mine.

  “Next time you’re in town this alleged murder will be forgotten. The motive will be discovered and the guilty party will be brought to justice,” I said, though that would be small comfort if the guilty party was his mother.

  He stood in the doorway, brushed some ashes from his sleeve and said, “I’m afraid money’s the only motive that makes sense, especially when you’re dealing with a rich woman like Gram. She was rich all right, and who doesn’t need a little extra million or two or three. If she left me some money I might buy a little apartment in the Village. Won’t know about that until we hear what’s in her will.”

  “She had a will?”

  “Of course. Let’s face it, my grandmother was paranoid. She thought someone was trying to kill her so she made sure her will was up to date. Over and over, ad nauseum she called her lawyer in to discuss it or change it, who knows? The formal reading is Monday—I’ll stick around for that and see. My mom told her to cool it and increased her meds. What really got to Mom was Gram’s insistence on getting everything from that special pharmacy in San Francisco.”

  “How special?” I asked.

  “They compound the drugs. I mean they combine them by hand, put your medicine mix in a little vial, cap it, then charge you an arm and a leg for the privilege.”

  I almost fell over. So that’s how they did it. Whoever killed Mary added something to her “special mixture.” It could have been anybody who had access to the card room, and who didn’t? It wasn’t locked. Obviously, Blake didn’t realize he might have helped me in my search for Mary’s murderer. Or not.

  “Did you tell the police chief about this?” I asked.

 

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