by Carol Culver
After I whipped the cream, we served the raspberry pie in the dining room. I held my breath but Sam didn’t turn it down. After Kate served coffee, she asked me who had invented pies. An obvious way to change the subject from murder to something I could go on and on about for hours. If anyone would listen.
“Pies have been around forever,” I said. “Ever since man or woman could put water and flour together to make a pastry shell. No sweet pies though. The ancient Romans filled the crust with meat or seafood. Like wild duck, mussels, or pigeon, and spiced them with currants and pepper.”
“Sounds good,” Jack said. What a great guy, I thought. Someone who appreciates the effort that goes into baking.
“The Romans made a pie with rye crust and filled it with goat cheese and honey. I’ve been thinking of making my own version of that one.”
I glanced at Sam. I had the feeling he wasn’t listening to me. Was Kate right? Was he looking at me as if he’d like to haul me off and make me forget about baking pies for a living? That would be a refreshing change, one I could handle. Or did his look only indicate he’d heard more than enough about the history of pies? On the plus side, he’d made the supreme sacrifice and eaten his piece of raspberry pie. I felt good about that. So good I got a second wind and finished up the history of pie with a final chapter on the American colonists’ contribution to our modern-day pie.
“The colonists baked many pies, all savory,” I said. “They used the crust as a preservative, a way to keep the filling fresh during the winter months. But not to eat. Crusts were like the pan or the dish. They were only the receptacle to contain the meats or fish. They were called coffins, because their only purpose was to hold the filling.”
I paused, afraid I’d introduced the subject of death when it was a no-no. “In England, they eat pork pie and steak and kidney pie. Served with gravy, pickles, and mushy peas.”
“I don’t think Crystal Cove is ready for mushy peas,” Sam said. “Not yet.”
“What about good old American apple pie? Who made that, Betsy Ross?” Jack asked.
“Apple pies have been around since the Middle Ages. But the first ones didn’t have sugar or a crust.”
“That’s not really a pie then,” Kate said.
“Not until the fifteen hundreds did they make apple pie with sugar and spices. It was so good a poet said his lover’s breath was ‘like the steam of apple pies.’”
“That was sweet,” Kate said.
The rest of the evening we talked about old times and laughed about our high school teachers, like Miss Oggel, who made us memorize the first fourteen lines of the Canterbury Tales and recite them in front of the class. We reminisced about former classmates like Lindsey, Tammy, and even Blake. No one mentioned Sam’s getting kicked out of school. I was wondering if Sam felt comfortable enough to tell my friends what had happened to him these past years, but he didn’t. They didn’t ask. Maybe they already knew or they thought it wasn’t polite to bring it up. Or they thought if he wanted us to know, he’d tell us. Same with me. I did not want to talk about the mistakes I’d made in my past. I’d learned from them. I thought I’d put them behind me. Time would tell. I was here to get a new start. So far, so good.
We left about ten o’clock and drove slowly through the quiet streets.
“No crime. No vagrants. No break-ins,” I remarked. “You’ve managed to clean up an already squeaky-clean town.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“So clean you may have worked yourself out of a job.”
“Not until I catch Mary Brandt’s murderer.”
“Not that again.” I said.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he said as he pulled up in front of my shop and cut the fog lights of his car.
I assumed he meant do you want to tell me you broke into a crime scene and stole some important evidence. “I don’t think so,” I said after a pause.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not guilty of breaking and entering.”
Hah. Easy as pie, as they say. Nothing I like better than a challenge. Because it was dark in the car I had to get up quite close to look him in the eyes, and suddenly murder was the farthest thing from my mind. Maybe it was the way his face was half in shadows, making him look dangerously sexy. Maybe it was the rich smell of leather from his custom car seats. Whatever it was, I wasn’t able to do much thinking about anything except how he had the power to turn my insides to custard and melt away my resolve to keep my distance like a stick of butter on a low flame.
When he tipped my chin with his thumb and kissed me, the memories came flooding back. It was fifteen years ago and we were in a car on this same street, frantic to take our clothes off and get our hands on each other when Grannie came out and beamed her flashlight at us.
Just like last time, I kissed him back. It was easier than answering his question.
This time there was no Grannie to stop us, just a modicum of common sense I’d acquired over the years. And a wall around my heart I’d constructed very carefully. I pulled away, took a deep breath, reached behind me, grabbed the door handle, and opened it. I slid out of the car seat, my heart pounding.
I didn’t turn around or say a word as I walked unsteadily up to the front door of the shop, and he didn’t speak or come after me. I didn’t expect him to.
I had a long, hot soak in Grannie’s claw-foot bathtub while I deliberately turned off my brain and let my body relax. What was the point? I’d already thought and rethought my new career here in town, my sophomoric attraction to the former town bad boy, and my role in solving this mystery. Of all my problems, I knew I had to solve the murder first, then worry about the rest of my life.
A kiss is just a kiss, I reminded myself, sinking deeper into the rose-scented hot water and leaning back against the porcelain headrest. It meant nothing to Sam except maybe he thought he’d soften me up so I’d confess to breaking and entering, contaminating the evidence, or just plain annoying the hell out of the police chief by stretching the truth or avoiding questions I didn’t want to answer. Therefore, it should mean nothing to me either.
I got out of the tub, dried off with an extra-large velvety Turkish towel, and got into my cotton lounger pajamas. Propping my head against a half-dozen pillows on my bed, I finally opened the leather-covered booklet. It was Mary Brandt’s diary.
_____
After I finished reading, I could say without hesitation that the woman had an enemy’s list a mile long. At first I was overwhelmed, as I copied names on a sheet of typing paper until I ran out of space. Not only Grannie and her friends, but the whole Bridge crowd, the exercise group, and her family. You name it, Mary had a problem with them. You had to ask yourself, Who wouldn’t want to kill her? But want is very different than did. Who did kill her?
I finally closed the diary at one o’clock in the morning with a pounding headache and a plan in mind.
I called Grannie the next morning and told her I needed another Bridge lesson. I lied and said I’d been studying up and playing online Bridge, and I thought maybe I was getting pretty good.
She sounded surprised. Surprised I was getting good and even more surprised I’d brag about it. I asked if I could come by for a practice session with her, her partner, and Donna that evening. Would Donna be willing to put up with me again?
Grannie assured me she would.
With my computer on the kitchen counter, I actually played a few online Bridge games on sites like Bridge Doctor, Bridge for Dummies, and Bridge Tutorial in between rolling, chopping, and mixing for something called Sawdust Pie, which I’d never made before.
Just my luck that the only person who came by was Sam. The look on his face indicated he’d forgotten everything that happened last night. Well, not everything. He remembered that he had to find the trespasser who’d frightened the resident next door to Mary Brandt’s place yesterday. He said he was having a lineup so she could identify the home-invader and asked me to appear the next day. I
agreed. By that time, I intended to have this murder wrapped up. What was the point of protesting now? Then I closed the door of the shop, telling him I had a full schedule. He looked like he was going to say something, no doubt a warning of some sort, but I didn’t give him a chance.
I couldn’t eat anything that night because my stomach was in knots. I packed my new Sawdust Pie as well as a kind of a quiche called Spinach and Feta Pie I threw together at the last minute. My mind kept turning over quotes from Bridge for Dummies like “Length before strength” and “Learn to play before learning to bid.” After a day of cramming, I hadn’t learned much more than “Bridge is the greatest card game of all,” and that it’s “complicated and challenging.” Tell me about it.
The card room was full as usual with the post-dinner card crowd. They seemed happy to see me, but it could have been because I came bearing pies. When you’re a baker, you never know if it’s you or your pies, unless it’s someone who refuses to eat desserts and only reluctantly tries something new. Grannie got up to help me unload my pies in the pantry. She explained she and Hazel and Donna were playing three-handed Bridge until I got there.
“So Donna hasn’t found another partner?”
Grannie shook her head. “Not yet.”
“No one as good as Mary?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said.
“What would you say?”
“You can’t just have anyone. She has to fit in. She has to have steady nerves. And be an excellent player. We take Bridge very seriously.”
“Yes, I know. I got that. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I’m taking up your time, taking the place of someone who might work out as Donna’s new partner.”
Grannie rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure anyone will ever be good enough for Donna.”
“Maybe she’s suffering from separation anxiety. Afraid without Mary she’ll never win again.”
“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Mary wasn’t that good,” Grannie said softly.
“Maybe no one’s good enough.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem,” Grannie said, squeezing my arm.
“Not yours either. In fact, isn’t it to your advantage if Donna doesn’t find anyone good enough, you keep winning, then you speed ahead and progress to the finals?”
“As of now I promised Sam I wouldn’t leave town.”
“Not now, but we’ll have this thing wrapped up in plenty of time for your tournament,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“Who’s we? You mean you and your policeman boyfriend?” she said with a little smile.
“Right now it’s just me and he’s not my boyfriend. I do have a plan.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Louise,” her partner, Hazel, called from the card room. “We’ve already shuffled and dealt.”
I set down my pies and followed Grannie out to the card room.
“You don’t mind, do you, Hanna?” Donna said, pointing to my cards already face down at my place. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry. It’s so good of you all to let me play with you. I promise to try harder tonight not to do anything too dumb, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“It’s just a game,” Hazel said.
Donna smiled briefly, then she focused on her cards. I arranged mine and then looked around the table. Even though this wasn’t a real game, and they couldn’t earn points toward the tournament, the other three looked intent and focused. No wonder they were in contention for the county, then perhaps even the state, prize. I felt a little guilty taking up their time with my own agenda.
Donna led with the ten of Spades. Grannie played a nine, I played a three, and Hazel played a Jack. Donna grimaced when she saw Hazel’s card. She frowned at me as if she knew I had the King, which I did, but she didn’t say anything. We played a few more hands during which I withheld the winning card on purpose. Donna’s face turned pink then red. After a while it was almost purple. No one seemed to notice but me. But the only way she could know I was deliberately holding back the high card was if she’d looked at my hand. She’d never admit to that, would she?
We did win a couple of tricks during the game, but it was no thanks to me. It was thanks to Donna, who glared at me and snatched up the cards when we won. It wasn’t enough.
Finally, Donna couldn’t take it any longer.
“Hanna, let me see your cards,” she said tightly.
Startled, Grannie and Hazel looked up as I put my cards down on the table.
“How could you?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” I asked.
“Yes, you did something wrong,” Donna said.
“You don’t even know which card to play, do you? I don’t expect you to be as good as Mary, but you’re not even trying.”
“Now Donna,” Grannie said.
“Don’t ‘Now Donna’ me,” she said, swiveling her head in Grannie’s direction. “At least Mary had an excuse for making mistakes. She had dementia. Yes, she did.”
Everyone stopped talking. Cards were forgotten. Silence blanketed the rest of the room like whipped cream over pie. “She didn’t want anyone to know. Even though it wasn’t fair to me,” Donna continued, her voice rising. “She wouldn’t give up. She was like a dog with a bone. I told her that and she laughed. I gave her a jeweled dog collar for her birthday. She thanked me. She didn’t get it.” Donna looked at Grannie. “You know it’s true. She’d forget what was trump, she’d play the wrong card … just like your granddaughter here. I thought I’d gotten rid of her, then Hanna comes and does the same thing. She has no excuse. She’s young. She could learn but she doesn’t even try. It’s not that hard. A King is higher than a Jack. A ten is higher than a seven. Why can’t I find a partner who can count? I can’t take it anymore.”
Her hands shaking, Donna threw her cards on the table and stood up.
“Donna, Hanna is trying,” Grannie said firmly. I felt terrible about tricking my own grandmother, but it was the only way I knew to keep her from being charged with a murder she didn’t commit.
I stood too. “I didn’t know Mary,” I said. “And I don’t play Bridge. But I know how challenging a game it is, especially if your partner is falling down on the job.”
“No,” Donna said, her voice as taut as a violin string. “You don’t know because you didn’t know Mary. She thought she was fine. She said everyone makes mistakes. Not like that, I told her. She should have quit. I begged her to quit. But she wouldn’t. There was only one way to make her leave.”
I looked around the room. The expressions on the faces went from shock to disbelief to embarrassment. “Just between us in the room, how many people are not sorry Mary Brandt is gone?” I asked.
Slowly everyone in the room except Donna raised their hand. Surprising after what I’d read in Mary’s diary. Mary had bribed, pleaded, and hounded all the Bridge players as she looked for another partner. Of all the ironies, Mary thought Donna wasn’t good enough for her. But she couldn’t drop her because no one else would play with her. And Donna knew it.
“Every one of you in the room, everyone in the whole place, had some reason to dislike Mary,” I said. “She wasn’t easy to like with her obsession for winning at all costs. She cheated, she covered up, she did everything but play fair. But only one person here hated her. Hated her enough to kill her. Some of you, maybe all of you, think she’s a hero, but I’m afraid she’s a murderer.” There was a murmur of “Oh no’s,” and “Who is it’s,” in the room. Everyone but Donna said something. Instead she held her head high.
“I did it,” she said. “I did what no one else had the guts to do. You ought to thank me. I got rid of the monster in our midst. She not only terrified her family, her friends, and the staff of this place, she took away my chance of winning the Bridge tournament. Every one of you in this room understands why I wanted to get rid of Mary. Yes, I switched her pills. I filled those little g
elatin capsules with extra warfarin. I ordered the cranberry pie because I thought she’d have a reaction to the drug. She had one, all right. I didn’t mean to kill her, I just wanted to make her sick so she’d have to drop out.” She heaved a sigh and sat down in her chair with a thud and buried her head in her hands.
I went to the pantry to call Sam to come and get Donna. I said I had witnesses to her confession. He said to be careful, but there was no danger. When I got back to the card room, everyone was hugging Donna saying they understood. Some of the women who’d had bad run-ins with Mary even thanked her. Grannie told her they’d all testify for her in court and visit her in jail and bring her a computer with a Bridge program.
When Sam came, everyone was having pie and coffee, even Donna. She looked relieved to have finally confessed. She especially liked all the attention she was getting.
“Where is she? You didn’t leave her alone, did you?” he muttered to me when I met him at the front door of the high-class institution.
“Alone? No, she’s with her friends. She’s a hero who got rid of the town bully. There’s got to be a special category for criminals like that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, speed-walking through the hall with me at his side.
“I wanted to be sure.”
“You wanted to show me you could find out who did it.”
I nodded.
He didn’t cuff Donna. He just read her her rights and quietly walked her out to the unmarked squad car. No one gave them a second look as they passed the reception desk. But Donna’s friends stood on the front steps waving and blowing kisses as they drove away.
Grannie and I had a quiet cup of cocoa in her kitchen after we watched Sam and Donna disappear into the night.
“I can’t believe it,” Grannie said, setting her cup on her small glass-topped kitchen table.
“What can’t you believe, that Donna killed her partner? Surely it’s happened before. I can’t imagine a more powerful motive for a Bridge player.”
“I can’t believe you uncovered this whole thing,” she said, staring at me as if I’d morphed into Miss Marple, her own personal favorite sleuth she always watched on PBS’s Mystery series.