A Good Day to Pie

by Carol Culver

  I immediately checked the huge walk-in closet. Nothing but empty rods and drawers, shoe racks, and shelves. Somebody had removed all of Mary’s clothes, and done what with them? Given them to the Good Will? Or tossed them in the dumpster behind the main building? The kitchen was next. It was even more upscale than Grannie’s with granite counters, a stainless steel refrigerator, and a pale natural oak floor. I wondered if Mary had entertained anyone here, perhaps even Bob. Maybe she was into whipping up food for an intimate dinner or two and baking it in her convection oven mounted on the wall. But the cool perfection of the room made it look like no one had ever so much as brewed a cup of coffee there. Why bother, when it was available downstairs twenty-four/seven?

  That’s when I heard the front door open. And voices. I ran back to the bedroom and had a split second to decide whether to leave by the deck from which I’d come or drop to my knees on the plush carpet and crawl under the bed. I chose the latter. I hadn’t found anything, but after all, I hadn’t quite finished looking.

  It was a man and a woman. I could tell by their voices and by their shoes, which I saw from my vantage point under the bed when they entered the bedroom. How did they get in when I couldn’t? Staff members? Family?

  “There’s nothing left,” the woman said. “The place is empty.”

  “It must be here. There might be a wall safe. Look behind the pictures. I can’t believe she forgot about it,” the man said.

  “She didn’t forget. She gave it to someone else.”

  “But she promised …”

  “She promised to make it worth your while if you’d buy her a deck of marked cards and the luminous sunglasses that go with it.”

  I had to clamp my lips together to keep from shouting out, “So she was cheating.”

  “I did that. I didn’t want to but I did it. I ordered it over the Internet. She said she’d do anything to win at Bridge. How could I say no when it meant so much to her?”

  “You helped her cheat because you knew she’d make it worth your while, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly. She said I’d get my reward when she got her marching papers.”

  “Marching papers? Oh, is that a euphemism for croaking?”

  “Which is a euphemism for ‘bite the dust.’”

  “Or buying the farm.”

  “Stop talking and start looking. We haven’t got much time.”

  “There’s nowhere to look. The place is gutted. She left it somewhere else.”

  “The lawyer said it was in her final will and testament.”

  “They always say that. What did he know? It’s got to be here.”

  My heart pounded. Whatever they wanted to find, I did too.

  “Okay, I’ll look behind the pictures. But I’m sure she didn’t have a wall safe. She kept everything in her safe-deposit box at the bank.”

  “Before you look, get rid of that stuff on the bed.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” she said. The whole bed shook as the woman stood on the bed and presumably took the pictures down one at a time.

  “Nothing,” she said and she jumped off the bed with a thud. “Are you happy now?”

  “No, I’m not happy,” he said. “I kept my promise, she got her cards. She said she’d leave me something. Something big. She let me down. I got nothing.”

  “Nothing? You got her car.”

  “That pile of junk.”

  “It’s an antique.”

  “Let’s go. There’s nothing here.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. When I heard the front door close, I edged my way out from under the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress. Just to be sure I’d covered all the bases I slid my hand between the box spring and the mattress. I gasped. There was something there. Why was I so surprised? Everyone hides their valuables under the mattress. Then why hadn’t those two looked there? I grabbed the small, slim leather-covered booklet, got up, and looked back at the bed with the footprints on the quilt they hadn’t bothered to smooth out.

  I was dying to look inside to see what I’d found. But I knew it had to be worth something if Mary had gone to all the trouble to hide it. I tucked it under my arm and headed back to the deck. But when I crossed the balcony to the door I’d come from, I saw a woman inside, wearing only a pair of floppy shorts and a bra and doing exercises in front of a television set. She looked up, saw me, and screamed. I dashed back toward Mary’s place, hoping she wouldn’t follow me. Even more important, I hoped she didn’t recognize me. I looked down. Too far to jump. I went back to Mary’s apartment, ran through it, and left through the front door the way the other couple had, crashing through the tape across the door just as they must have done.

  I was panting but forced myself to walk slowly down the corridor as if I belonged there and wasn’t on the run with a valuable document under my arm. I was hoping it was what I thought it was. A new and revised will. Or was it an old will written before the one in the lawyer’s office? Or was it Mary’s diary filled with salacious details of her sex life? Or a list of people she feared might be after her? That might be the best thing for me because it might lead to her murderer. I could only hope.

  Finally, out in my car I was afraid to take time to look at my treasure. I was also afraid the woman next door who’d screamed had called security, who were now looking for me.

  I drove back to the shop, determined to fulfill my obligations before I went back to being an amateur sleuth. I had to make a pie for dessert even though I only had an hour before dinner. Even though Kate hadn’t asked for anything, if you have a pie shop everyone expects you to show up at any social occasion with something you’ve made. I couldn’t let her down, and I had to admit I hadn’t given up trying to tempt Sam to break his “no sugar” diet restriction.

  I kept the notebook in my purse but deliberately didn’t look at it. First things first. The notebook could wait, but the pie couldn’t. I turned my attention to dessert. Being it was summer, I knew I should make something light and fruity. I came up with a simple fresh raspberry pie I could serve with either whipped cream or homemade vanilla ice cream, but no time for the latter, so I stuck to the former. I hadn’t had time to change clothes when Sam came to the door to pick me up.

  I yelled down the stairs, telling him I’d be there in a minute. I knew I’d better dress carefully, or I’d get into trouble with Kate for not making an effort to look good when she’d made the effort to invite me over, along with the only remaining single man in town. I knew exactly what she was up to. I could only hope Sam didn’t suspect he was being set up as my date. I plugged my curling iron into the outlet in the bathroom to try to work some magic on my hair. But what to wear? What was in my closet that Kate would approve of ? All I had were my city clothes.

  I chose a pair of pale, off-white Isaac Mizrahi linen-blend pants I used to wear to work in the office, which seemed like a million years ago. Then I slipped into a pair of gladiator sandals that went with everything. Next I pawed through my drawer and found a cashmere pullover in a luscious raspberry sherbet color that matched my pie. I shook my hair down over my face, then divided it into three sections. I pulled one over the other until I had a pretty decent loose braid hanging down my neck and fastened it with a rubber band. I took out a few loose strands of hair at the nape of my neck and one at my temples and gave them the treatment with the curling iron for a more feminine touch. All to impress Kate, of course. As for Sam, who knew what would impress him? It wasn’t my brilliant analytical mind and it wasn’t my baking of any product that contained sugar.

  With my brilliant analytical mind, I should have no trouble deciphering Mary’s diary or whatever it was I’d taken. I just didn’t have time right now. Whatever it was, it was still in my purse and burning a hole in my arm as I flung my bag over my shoulder on my way down the stairs. I was afraid to leave it anywhere.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said breathlessly. Breathless from rushing to get ready and breathless at the sight of the man who looked better than ever i
n designer jeans and a blue Lacoste T-shirt.

  Sam was sitting at one of my small tables, staring at his notebook computer. He closed it when he saw me; and did a double take. “New hair?”

  “Kind of.” My face flushed as I felt a wave of pleasure that he’d noticed. “Still working?” I asked with a glance at his computer.

  “Of course.”

  “How can anyone imagine Crystal Cove doesn’t need a police chief ?” I asked. “Your work is never done. Protecting the populace.”

  “Almost as important as you feeding the populace.”

  “I wish.”

  I took my savory pie from the oven and my raspberry pie from the refrigerator and loaded them into my old reliable wicker basket, along with the dough figures Kate’s girls had molded the day they came to the bakery.

  Sam sniffed the air but said nothing. Would it kill him to tell me something smelled good and he was looking forward to my pies? If we weren’t going to talk about pie and we were forbidden to talk murder or mystery, what would we talk about at Kate’s?

  Sam parked in Kate’s driveway, but before we got out of the car, he put his hand on my shoulder. “You may think I’m being hard on you and on your grandmother.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” I asked.

  “I know what you think, but I’m asking you to have faith in the system. It works. I know it seems unfair that you can’t go off snooping as you call it, but you really have to leave it to us. The guilty will be punished and the innocent will be free to go back to doing whatever it is they were doing.”

  “Like baking pies or playing Bridge.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Now I feel a lot better,” I said.

  He picked up on the tinge of sarcasm in my voice, and he narrowed his gaze. Then he came around, opening my door and taking my pie basket out of the trunk.

  Kate was at her front door waiting as we walked through a veritable forest of stately pines, eucalyptus, and oak trees in front of their three-bedroom, two-bath ranch-style house. She was smiling broadly, no doubt at the coup she’d pulled off: getting Sam and me together for a purely social occasion. Her husband, Jack, seemed glad to see Sam. It turned out they were both on the wrestling team in high school, and they went out to the flagstone patio to have a few drinks and a few laughs about their coach and various rivals.

  Kate took the pies and beckoned to me from the kitchen window. Obediently, I went inside and poured myself a glass of wine. I knew what she was thinking. “See what fun we can all have together once you realize you and Sam are meant for each other?

  “This looks fabulous,” she said, taking my asparagus tart out of the basket.

  “I didn’t know what you were having,” I said. “So I took a chance and made something new.”

  “Jack’s barbecuing a butterflied leg of lamb.”

  “Yum. That’s what I smelled out there.” I looked around. “Where are the kids? I brought their dough figures.”

  “Thanks. They’re spending the night at Grandma’s house. Speaking of grandmothers … How’s Louise? Have things calmed down up at Heavenly Acres?”

  “As far as I know. Maybe you’d better ask Sam. He’s the one doing the investigation. But I thought we weren’t going to talk about anything like murder or mystery.”

  “We’re not. I just wondered how she’s doing.”

  “I haven’t heard from her. But I worry about her. It can’t be easy to be dragged down to the police station and questioned under oath.”

  “She probably passed with flying colors,” Kate said.

  “I’m afraid to ask. But we have to have faith in the system. Faith that the guilty will be punished.”

  She gave me a funny look. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I have to. For now.”

  I guess I misunderstood the rules for that night, because when we went into the dining room to eat a gorgeous barbecued leg of lamb, herb crusted on the outside and juicy and pink on the inside, Kate turned to Sam and asked how his work was going.

  “Never a dull moment,” he said.

  “Really? I thought a policeman’s life in Crystal Cove would be the epitome of dull,” Jack said to Sam. “But who would have guessed there’d be a murder for you to solve? I’m glad to hear you’ve got a handle on the job. Maybe you’ll stick around. We need you here.”

  “What did you mean by never a dull moment?” Kate asked. “Are you referring to the murder or has something else happened?”

  “I thought we weren’t going to discuss murder tonight,” I said. “But since you brought it up …” I looked hopefully at my friend Kate. “I could be wrong, but in my opinion the reason it’s so hard to solve the crime is that almost everyone wanted to kill Mary Brandt, present company excepted, of course.”

  “Today’s excitement had nothing to do with Mary Brandt except that it happened to the woman who lives next door to Mary’s apartment,” Sam said with a glance at me.

  I looked down and concentrated on cutting my meat. Had I been recognized? Or did Sam automatically suspect me when something unusual happened? If he knew anything for sure, he would have said something earlier.

  Kate leaned forward across the table and licked her lips in anticipation. And she was the one who didn’t want to talk shop. I tell you, it’s addictive. “Next door to Mary,” she mused. “Coincidence or …?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “But the poor woman was scared to death, though not literally, thank God. She’s still alive. All we need is another suspicious death at that place and they’ll want to hire extra security guards. She said she saw someone on her balcony. If she hadn’t screamed, she thought she could have been murdered. That’s her word not mine,” Sam said. “Just like Mary Brandt.”

  “Maybe it was just the window washer,” I said.

  “It didn’t look like a window washer from the video camera we had mounted in the kitchen.”

  I smiled as if I wasn’t a bit worried I’d been caught on camera. If I had, he surely would have mentioned it earlier. I should have kept my mouth shut but I couldn’t resist. “I don’t blame the poor woman for being scared. You’ve got your investigation going right there at Heavenly Acres. Doesn’t that mean you suspect one of the residents?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Sam said.

  “Well, who cares anyway?” I asked. “Certainly not her family from what I can tell. They all had their problems with her and now they’ve got what they wanted.” I looked around the table. “Don’t they?” Jack refilled my wine glass, probably hoping I’d drink more and talk less.

  “The will is being contested,” Sam said.

  “What?” I said. “Not by her grandson Blake. He came by to say goodbye, pleased as punch with his grandfather’s antique watch he inherited. Said his sister got a necklace. Never mentioned his mother wasn’t happy with her bequest. Or anyone else.” My unspoken question was who exactly was contesting her will. No one at the dinner table asked, and no one told.

  Kate changed the subject. Not surprising, since she’s the one who said we couldn’t talk about murder tonight. She served wedges of the asparagus tart and everyone said it was the best asparagus and leek tart they’d ever had. I was glad to see the vegetables had a little crunch left and that it wasn’t eggy or mushy the way some combination vegetable pies are. When they’d finished praising the tart, Kate asked Sam how he liked being back in town.

  “Couldn’t be better,” he said. “I bought a house and I’m here to stay.”

  Kate looked at me quizzically as if I’d been holding out on her.

  “I told Hanna after I clean up the town I might run for mayor.”

  “You think our town needs cleaning up?” I said lightly. “Just because an old person has hallucinations on her balcony?”

  “I take every complaint seriously,” he said, looking more like a pillar of the community than ever. “And I have to investigate.”

  I suspected he meant it as a threat to me personally, but I dec
ided to treat it as just a job description.

  “You take your job just as seriously as Hanna does hers,” Kate said with a warm smile for both of us. “Which brings us to dessert. Hanna brought a raspberry pie that looks absolutely fabulous.”

  She didn’t wait for Sam to say he didn’t eat desserts, she just got up from the table, motioned to me to follow her and went into the kitchen while the men discussed Sam’s running for mayor. I heard Jack volunteer to be his campaign manager.

  “Did you have anything to do with that balcony thing at Heavenly Acres?” Kate asked in a half whisper as she cut slices of the pie.

  “Who, me?” I asked.

  “I thought so,” she said shaking her head. “I hope you don’t get into trouble.”

  “I’m permanently in trouble according to Sam. He even thought I had something to do with Mary Brandt’s demise or that I was protecting someone else, I think you know who. But I don’t care what he thinks or thought. I found something today that could be important.”

  “Important how?”

  “In figuring out who killed Mary.”

  “Did you tell Sam?”

  “Of course not. He would have confiscated it immediately because I got it under, how shall I say, unusual circumstances.”

  “This is exciting. He’ll be grateful to you someday.”

  “Either that or he’ll arrest me for tampering with the evidence.”

  “He’d never do that. He likes you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “No, really. I saw the way he looked at you.”

  “Like he wanted to put me in jail?”

  “Like he wanted to haul you off and make you Mrs. Police Chief, or would you rather be Mrs. Mayor?”

  “I’d rather be the Queen of Tarts.”

  “That’s a no-brainer. You’ve got that title nailed. This looks wonderful.”