A Good Day to Pie

by Carol Culver

  “Did you tell the chief what she said?” I asked, dying to know what she’d said.

  “You bet I did,” she said, refilling everyone’s paper cups from her thermos. “I gave him an earful. How Mary and her daughter were always fighting over her charity events. What to do with the money, how to divide it up. Who deserved it most. Mary wanted it to go to the dogs. Her daughter Linda was all for a new art museum with their names on it. Mary once said she felt like disinheriting them all.” She shrugged. “Maybe she did. I wouldn’t blame her. She had her lawyer up here about two weeks ago. Again.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked with a casual I don’t really care, just asking … manner.

  “Seymour Evans, who works at the courthouse,” she said. “Mary trusted him completely.”

  I wondered how rare that was for Mary to trust anyone. I felt like hugging Donna for giving me something to work on besides myself and my grandmother. Sam would be sorry he’d told me to drop my quest. He had all the resources of his office plus the right to barge in and ask questions anytime he wanted. But I planned to solve this mystery myself before he arrested my grandmother and made a fool of himself. Oh, yes, he’d be sorry he ever refused my help.

  “Sam took notes too on his computer,” Donna added. “He said I’d been very helpful.” I didn’t blame her for looking pleased. I’d be pleased to get a kind word out of our taciturn police chief. Then she screwed the top on her thermos and said she had a hair appointment in town.

  After she left, there was a brief silence. I looked around the group, hoping to hear more details of their interviews, but no one said anything. I glanced at my waterproof watch. “I really have to get back to the shop. I’ve left my friend Kate minding the store.”

  “How’s the pie business?” Grace asked.

  “A little slow but I’ve got some ideas to perk up sales. I’m going to give out discount coupons for pie and coffee.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Grannie said with a proud smile. “Sales will go through the roof, you’ll see.”

  I could have also said something about giving pie parties on the order of the sex toy party, but I didn’t want to get into a description of sex toys with these women for fear they would tell me more than I wanted to know about their sex lives and their toys. Instead I said, “I’m thinking of going mobile.” I didn’t know I was going to say that. I wasn’t thinking of going mobile until I saw that cupcake truck in the parking lot today.

  No wonder Grannie looked surprised as she rubbed sun block on her arms, being ever vigilant against the late afternoon sunshine.

  “Not that I’d give up the shop, but if I had a van I could drive around to where the action is.”

  “Action, in Crystal Cove?” Helen said, wrapping a beach towel around her shoulders.

  “I know what you mean, but if people don’t come to where the pie is, I’ve got to take the pie where the people are. For example, wedding receptions, retirement parties, barbecues.” The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of getting out of the shop. I was not too proud to copy a success story. It would be good for me and my pies to hit the road occasionally.

  “And memorial services,” Grace said. “Your pie was such a hit at Mary’s service. May she rest in peace.”

  “Why shouldn’t she rest in peace?” Grannie asked.

  Grace looked around. The pool was empty. None of Mary’s friends around. If she’d had any friends. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of poor Donna. She’s suffered enough. No partner. But we all know Mary was a cheat and a conniving phony. She complained about everyone on the staff, her family, and her so-called friends. She bribed some of us and threatened the others.” Grace lowered her voice. “Don’t deny it. She’s gone now and I’m not the only one who isn’t sorry.”

  “I’m willing to forgive and forget,” Grannie said. The others nodded. If Grannie could forgive Mary, why shouldn’t they?

  “We have a good life here with no worries and three gourmet meals a day,” Grannie said. “It can be your life too,” she told me, “in thirty, forty years. Heavenly Acres is a reward for a lifetime of hard work.” I believe she spoke with tongue in cheek there. No more worries? When she was the chief murder suspect in her own hometown? She put up a good front, I’d give her that.

  She should have added that Heavenly Acres was her reward for marrying a rich man who, although divorced from Grannie, had the goodness to leave his money to her in his will. I didn’t say it. I didn’t have to. She knew it as well as I did. I was happy for her. If he hadn’t left her the money, she wouldn’t have left me the shop, and if she hadn’t left me the shop, I’d still be in the city, where everyone I knew either felt sorry for me or thought I’d gotten what I deserved. Here no one knew except Sam, and I didn’t think he’d tell anyone. And so far he only knew the half of it.

  I called Kate because I was running late and I wanted to stop in to see Sam. She said she’d sold three pies.

  “I guess I just have the magic touch,” she said proudly. “They came in because they’d read the article about you in the paper.”

  “I owe you,” I said. I’d pay her back in babysitting.

  I changed clothes in Grannie’s room and stopped by the housekeeper’s office next to the dining room where Sam was holding fort. The dining room was set up for dinner with crystal and silver and white tablecloths. Classical music filled the air. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen. Lucky residents. Good company. Good food. Classy ambience. And an exciting murder investigation right in their midst. Better than those Solve a Murder Mystery parties you can host. This was real.

  I raised my arm to knock on the door of the office when I heard voices from inside. I checked the interview schedule but there was no one listed for that time slot. Then I heard a light, feminine laugh. And a light, flirty, feminine voice say, “Go ahead and try one.”

  A few minutes later, a woman who looked like Lurline, the cupcake lady, wearing a pair of short shorts showing off firm slender thighs, high-heeled sandals, and a tight T-shirt came prancing out of Sam’s temporary office. Her eyes were bright and her smile even brighter. She wasn’t looking and bumped into me, sending a flat cardboard cake box flying and its contents of cupcakes dumped all over the floor.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she said, bending down to scoop up her mini-cupcakes. I should have helped her, but I was in a kind of shocked state. Besides, she was younger and more agile than I was and it wasn’t my fault she’d run into me.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, doing a double-take when she was back on her feet. “I’m surprised you’d show up here after what you did.”

  Mystified, I stared at her. “What did I do?” Sure, I sold delicious pies, but she didn’t seem to have any problem selling cupcakes.

  “Don’t pull the innocent act with me. Everyone knows you killed that old lady with your poison pie. Once everyone finds out you’ll be out of business with your Upper Crust. Then I’ll be the only sweet thing in this town.”

  She turned on her heels and walked down the hall and out the front door. I watched her go, feeling stunned. Suddenly I shivered. My muscles ached from a workout my grandmother did every other day. My hair was wet and straight and I hadn’t reapplied any makeup. The contrast between Ms. Bright Eyes and myself was stark.

  “What was she doing here?” I asked when Sam opened his door, told me to come in, and closed the door behind me. Then I saw a box of cupcakes on his desk and I knew. She’d come to tempt him with her wares.

  “Lurline?” he said. “Delivering cupcakes for a birthday party. She has the residents decorate them. They seem to love it. She’s very popular. Did you two meet? You have a lot in common.”

  “How do you figure?” I asked him. “She’s ten years younger than I am, she has a van, and she makes cupcakes.”

  “You’re both entrepreneurs and you both sell bakery goods.”

  I surveyed the cupcakes on his desk. Chocolate, caramel, coconut, banana, and that fabulou
s Meyer lemon, if I wasn’t mistaken. They were all adorably decorated with sprinkles, twists of fruit or a ribbon of contrasting frosting, and I knew for a fact they tasted just divine.

  “I thought you were on a fitness program,” I said, sounding as crabby as I felt.

  “I plan to leave them here. It’s the least I can do. The staff has invited me to dinner. Crab Cioppino.”

  “How nice,” I said. I tried not to sound bitter, but no one had invited me to dinner. I guessed I should just be grateful the conversation hadn’t turned to murder for a change. “I suppose it’s all in a day’s work. I won’t ask, but I assume it has something to do with your investigation.”

  He stood and stretched and towered over me. “You never know. My theory is that some people tend to speak more freely over dinner than in a small interrogation room.”

  “Yes I know. That’s why you took me to dinner the other night. Was it worth it?”

  “I think so. Sometimes it takes awhile for the payoff. Next time it’s your turn.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was my turn to buy him dinner or to grill him.

  “Have a nice swim?” he asked.

  “Very nice, thank you. Just FYI, at the pool this afternoon Donna told us Mary and her daughter had been fighting over the charity events. I suppose Mary’s daughter filled you in on it.”

  “She did, ” he said. “She has a different version than Donna does.”

  “Well, of course she does. But who has the most to gain money-wise by Mary’s death? I assure you it isn’t my grandmother. We won’t know for sure until they read the will.” He didn’t say anything. “Or do you already know what’s in it?”

  “No matter who gets her money, you can’t deny your grandmother has a lot to gain from Mary’s dropping out of the Bridge tournament. Not money, but some things are more important.”

  “Like revenge or jealousy? I know all about the ten common murder motives, so don’t patronize me. If what you mean by more important is Bridge, then you’re right. But Grannie had nothing to fear from Mary at Bridge. Mary might have won a lot of games, scored a lot of points, but it was because she was cheating. Sooner or later she was going to be found out and kicked out. So why would Grannie kill her? She exposed her instead.”

  “It doesn’t have to be either-or. She could expose her and then kill her.”

  “You just don’t quit, do you?” I asked, exasperated.

  “If I quit, I wouldn’t have a job. I understand you’re eager to clear your grandmother’s name. I admire you for your loyalty, however misplaced it may be. You have a close relationship with your grandmother. She raised you. You owe her a lot.”

  “I don’t owe her covering up a murder.”

  “Do you deny your grandmother is glad Mary’s dead?”

  “Who isn’t? I’ve been talking to people. I know you don’t want me to, but sometimes they talk to me. What am I supposed to do? Tell them to shut up? You know as well as I do that no one is sorry Mary’s gone. Not Mary’s daughter, her grandson, the hired help here at Heavenly, the Bridge players, or Bob Barnett. And that’s just for starters.” I was tired of protecting everyone. The only people I wanted to shield were myself and my grandmother. Everyone else was on their own.

  Instead of grabbing a pen and making a list of the suspects I’d so generously given him the way I hoped, he just leaned back against the edge of the desk and stared at me, because he’d already made his own list and he was one step ahead of me. I had nothing more to say. Neither did he.

  He finally opened the door to the office, and I got the message. He was tired of this whole mess. He wanted to close this case. So did I. It was too bad we couldn’t work together, but that wasn’t going to happen. I was free to go. For now.

  Before I got to the front door to the building, Grannie caught up with me. “Where were you all this time?”

  “Talking to Sam.”

  “Such an attractive man,” she said. “I know he thinks a lot of you.”

  “Really? I’m glad to hear it. He doesn’t want me to help him solve this murder, that’s for sure.”

  “Don’t let that stop you. And if there’s anything I can do …”

  “Nothing. Just try to forget about it.”

  She nodded, but I was sure neither one of us was going to forget about it until someone confessed. It wasn’t going to be Grannie, and it wasn’t going to be me.

  “I forgot to invite you to dinner,” she said. “Tonight is guest night. We’re having Cioppino.”

  “I have to go home and close up the shop. Poor Kate has been sitting in for me all afternoon.”

  “Come back when you’re done.” She paused and gave me a long critical look. “And change into something nice. We dress up up here. I don’t mean formal, I just mean … nice.”

  “I noticed,” I said with a glance at her wide-leg black silk pants, her bright green cardigan sweater, and her chunky gold necklace.

  “I like bold, amusing things,” she said, shaking the gold bracelets on both wrists as if I didn’t know. Her silvery streaked hair was styled as if she’d just come back from a salon. I wished I had her stylist and her positive attitude. She had to be worried about being the prime murder suspect, but she sure hid it well.

  When I got back to the shop, Kate was entertaining her two girls, Tenley and Emma, by letting them roll out dough in my kitchen. There was flour and water everywhere. But they were having a good time making little figures out of dough and baking them in the oven.

  “How did it go?” Kate asked on her way out the door.

  “I got my butt kicked in water aerobics,” I said. “And I heard a lot of dirt about Mary’s family. Oh, and the cupcake lady accused me of killing Mary.”

  Kate gasped.

  “Shocking, isn’t it? And this was right after she was in talking to Sam and plying him with her luscious cupcakes. And Grannie wants me to come back for dinner. It’s guest night and the chef is making Crab Cioppino. I have to go.”

  Kate gave me a critical look not unlike the one I’d just gotten from my grandmother. “I’m changing my clothes, don’t worry. I don’t want to embarrass Grannie.”

  “What about Sam?”

  “He told me I owe him a dinner. He’s invited to guest night too. Even though he’s there to investigate a murder and find one of them guilty, they all like him. They think he’s adorable. They want him around to protect them from the serial murderer on the premises. Just in case there is one. The bad news is that he still thinks Grannie killed Mary Brandt and I’m covering for her.” I felt like there must be steam coming out of the top of my head. “What do I have to do to prove we didn’t?”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. I knew the answer. Find the real killer.

  I had an hour to get ready for dinner and I needed every minute to wash the chlorine out of my hair, blow it dry, slather lotion all over my body, and find something to wear that wouldn’t embarrass Grannie. I kept thinking of the cupcake lady in her short shorts and her wild accusation. Where did that come from? The fog was drifting in off the ocean this evening as it often did in summer, so I needed something to wear that was warm yet summery. Back to my white pants, a stretchy black V-neck sweater, a silver necklace, and a big sweater shawl I wrapped around myself. I’d be glad to have it later when it got even cooler.

  Then I filled a basket with an assortment of pies, thinking I’d offer them to the kitchen or serve them after dinner in the lounge. But would Lurline get there before me? I hung a “Closed” sign on the door just in case anyone came by. I could always hope. Tomorrow I’d get back to baking, punching up my business, and making money.

  _____

  Crab season along the California coast starts in November and by summer is fading away. I was guessing that tonight’s Crab Cioppino at Heavenly Acres might be made with frozen Dungeness crab in a traditional tomato-based sauce with wine and clam juice. It’s a treat no matter what season or where you get it, down at the wharf or in the fanciest restaur
ant. Fresh crab right out of the water or frozen from the catch last winter.

  I wasn’t surprised to see there were huge paper bibs at every place. Grannie waved me to her table, but first I deposited my pies in the kitchen. In the dining room, I was seated between Grannie’s friend Charline and her friend Debbie. The Chardonnay was already flowing, even before the salad course.

  I knew Grannie had given my outfit the once-over when she spotted me at the door. I hoped I’d passed her test though I was way underdressed by her standards.

  “Fortunately the dress code has changed,” she said, probably thinking she’d make me feel better though I hadn’t quite reached the Heavenly Acres standard. “When I first came up here a few years ago to see the place, women weren’t allowed to wear pants in the dining room. The old-timers are still grumbling about the changes. They don’t want Pilates, they don’t want weight rooms. They want tea in the afternoon and the old dress code back.”

  “The ninety-somethings even try to censor the movies on Friday nights. No sex, no violence. That sums up their taste,” Charline said.

  “And their lives,” Helen added. My table companions laughed appreciatively.

  “These are the people twenty years older than us,” Grace explained. “And they might as well be from another planet. Hope I don’t turn into a crank when I get old.”

  “No chance,” Grannie assured her, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

  “I had no idea there was any tension here,” I said. Except for the well-known tension around the Bridge table.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Grannie said, taking a sip of Chardonnay. “Just a few old fogies trying to hold on to the past. They’ll get over it.”

  “What about Mary?” I asked, ever on the alert for a new suspect or two. “I suppose she was on your side.”

  “Wasn’t she!” Grace exclaimed. “I’ll never forget the day her little grandson came to have lunch with Mary. He was wearing blue jeans. Not only did he get looks from old Mrs. Harms, Edward Vaughn grabbed him by the T-shirt and gave him a stern lecture. Mary hit the roof. Told him to take his hands off her grandson. I thought she was going to give him a karate chop. She could do it. She bragged she’d once been a first-degree Brown Belt. He had no business talking to Brandon that way.”