by Krista Davis
She untied the string on the box. “And what did you find out?”
“It’s Willa. She did it all, but I have no proof.”
“Except for her fingerprints on the coffee cup.”
“Exactly.”
Nina opened the box. “Lemon meringue,” she cooed. “I might just eat this for lunch.”
“I’m just going to check my landline messages. I’ll be right back.” I walked to my little home office. Sure enough, the message light was blinking. I pulled out a notepad. The first two messages were complaints about not being able to reach me at my mobile number. Clearly, I would have to buy another phone. I had no idea when I might get mine back.
While I noted the callers’ names, my thoughts drifted to the pie from Tommy Earl. I dropped the pen and ran to my kitchen shouting, “Nina! Nina! Don’t eat that!”
She had cut a slice of the pie. It was gorgeous. The lemon gleamed under a cloud of lightly browned meringue.
Nina had a fork in her hand and was about to take a bite of the pie. I raced at her and grabbed the fork. “No!”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Why would Tommy Earl leave a pie at my door?”
She shrugged. “To thank you for something?”
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
As the two of us looked at the gorgeous pie, a fly landed on the slice Nina had cut. It feasted on the sweet lemon portion.
She was about to flick it away, but I stopped her.
Seconds later the fly fell off the pie. It lay on its back. Its legs twitched briefly. And then it was dead.
“Don’t touch anything. And don’t let Mochie touch or sniff the pie.” I dashed to the kitchen phone and dialed Wolf’s number. It rolled over to voice mail. I said I thought someone had left a poisonous pie for me and that I was at home, waiting for a cop to collect it.
“That could have been me.” Nina’s voice quavered. “Why would Tommy Earl send you a poisoned pie?”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t think it was from Tommy Earl. Willa probably baked it and slid it into a box that had his fingerprints on it. That’s how she operates.”
I looked around for Mochie. Cats didn’t generally like sweets, but I didn’t want him trying it. He lounged in the bay window. “We’ll leave everything exactly like it is for Wolf to see.”
Nina nodded. “If you’re right, this sort of thing has worked well for her in the past.”
“I told Wolf my theory. He says it’s all speculation, which is true. It’s amazing that Willa has managed to get away with so much. I just wish we had tangible proof.”
“The pie might provide that.”
“Unlikely. She probably wore food-prep gloves to keep her fingerprints off it. There has to be some way to snag her.”
“What if you were dead?”
“What?!” I yelped.
“Pretend dead. You know, let her think the pie killed you?”
“And how would that help?”
“I don’t know. I’m in shock. We need to set a trap of some kind.”
“We might really end up dead if we do that.”
“I knew there was something wrong when she wasn’t excited about seeing Patsy Lee,” said Nina.
“Let’s walk this through from her perspective,” I suggested. “She couldn’t poison a pie at The Laughing Hound because everyone knew who baked it.”
“So she bought a coffee at Moos and Brews,” said Nina, “dumped the caffeine into it, and swapped her coffee for Patsy Lee’s coffee. That would be easy to do.”
“Except it had her fingerprints on it, so she walked around asking if she left her coffee, to build the notion that someone took her coffee.”
“And it worked perfectly, except for the fingerprints,” Nina observed.
“Then, because Alex knew something, she stole my gas can and paid Alex a visit.”
“She must have left the gas can outside, in back of the office, so he didn’t see it,” Nina noted.
“Probably. She went in to talk with him. She must have surprised him by hitting him with something. I can’t imagine how she could have overpowered him otherwise.”
“She grabbed a cord of some kind and meant to strangle him, but he smacked the window, and you came in so she had to flee.”
“And she set the fire, hoping it would obliterate the files,” I said. “If we assume we’re somewhat correct about the scenario, the only other tangible evidence would be whatever she used to hit him.”
“Didn’t Mars say he would have gotten rid of evidence in a big Dumpster behind a restaurant?” asked Nina.
“I wonder how often it gets emptied.” I jumped up and phoned Bernie on his cell phone. “Bernie’s not answering. Why doesn’t anyone ever answer their calls?”
“Call the restaurant.”
I hung up, dialed the restaurant, and asked for Remy.
When he came to the phone, I asked if he knew how often they emptied the Dumpster.
He seemed perplexed when he said, “Once a week. It’s scheduled for tomorrow.”
I thanked him and hung up. “Daisy isn’t here, so I’ll put Mochie upstairs in my bedroom and close the door. Can you write a note saying Do not eat or touch? Just in case Mars lets himself in.”
Nina shouted up the stairs that she was going home to change clothes.
I took a minute to do the same thing. Old jeans, grubby sneakers, and a T-shirt ought to do the job. I left Mochie napping on my bed, and on the way out the door, I grabbed two pairs of gardening gloves.
Nina met me at the sidewalk. We walked to The Laughing Hound, but turned down the alley to the Dumpster. A few people were dining on the doggy deck in the back.
Nina and I were not very tall. We turned over some five-gallon buckets and stepped on them to see inside the Dumpster.
“Ugh. That stinks,” moaned Nina.
“Three days ago. It would be in the middle somewhere.”
“What do you think we’re looking for?” asked Nina.
“A bat would have been too big and obvious. It had to be something she could fit into a purse, or something that was already in Alex’s office.”
“A wine bottle.”
“That would have broken and been left at the scene,” I said. “I bet you’re right.”
“Thank goodness.” Nina flicked her hand in front of her nose. “I hate to tell you this, but there’s no way I would have jumped into that stinking pit. Not even to save you from prison.”
“Maybe the firemen know if there was a wine bottle,” I suggested.
“We’re not too far from the firehouse.”
“Good point. Think they would tell us?” I asked.
“Can’t hurt to ask. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
We walked a few blocks to the fire station. A handsome young man greeted us.
Nina smiled at him. “We could use some information about that terrible fire in Alex German’s office the other day. Do you think you could help us?”
Did she wink at him?
“I can get someone who would know more about it.”
He disappeared into the back.
“I think you scared him,” I muttered.
“I keep forgetting I’m not as young and cute as I used to be.”
“We’re probably his mother’s age.”
Harry Gibbard walked out to talk with us.
Chapter 42
Dear Sophie,
I love entertaining my friends and family. And I’m always sending leftover pie home with them. But I never see my containers again! Is there a nice way to tell them I want the containers back?
No Storage in Suckerville, Maine
Dear No Storage,
Use disposable cake pans. They come in various sizes and work equally well for packing cakes, meats, casseroles, and pies. Buy the kind with a cover made to fit it, or cover it with aluminum foil.
Sophie
“Sophie! I didn’t think I would see you again today.”
I i
ntroduced him to Nina. “We were discussing how Alex might have been attacked and we thought someone probably caught him off guard and hit him with something like a wine bottle.”
“And now you want to know if they found wine bottle remnants in the blaze.”
“Exactly.”
“Good thought, but the only glass appears to be from the shattered front window.”
I must have looked very disappointed because he added, “You’re probably right in theory, though. Alex isn’t a small guy. Overpowering him would have required the advantage of surprise.”
“The Lady Justice,” I muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” said Harry.
“There was a bronze Lady Justice in his reception room. If someone had swung that down on his head, he would have been in big trouble.”
“Depending on the alloys, bronze can melt in high heat. I’ll check for it.”
“Thanks, Harry. I appreciate your help.”
Nina and I walked away. “Is he married?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
“How have I never met him?” she wondered.
“Nina! Concentrate.” We walked by Bernie’s house and I stopped dead. “We’re all wrong. She’s trying to frame me. If she used something to slam Alex, she would have hidden it at my place!”
We picked up our speed and hurried past my kitchen door to the backyard.
“She stole the gas can from the garage. That’s probably where she would have left any other evidence.”
We opened the door and peered inside. I pressed the garage door opener for extra light. We searched the garage for a few minutes.
“Found it!” Nina shouted.
The Lady Justice lay on her side under a shop table. The scales were missing, and I suspected the dark red spots were dried blood. “If the cops had looked in here, I would be in jail right now.” My heart beat like crazy. How was I going to explain this?
“Maybe they did look in here and thought it belonged to you. They might not have known it was used in an attempted murder.”
“That’s even scarier. What now?” My voice came out in a squeak. “If I report it, they’ll think I used it against Alex.”
“Are your fingerprints on it?”
“I wouldn’t think so. But she probably wiped her fingerprints off of it.”
“Good point,” said Nina. “Normally, I would ask my good friend Sophie what to do in a situation like this.”
“I need to call Benton. Maybe he’ll know.”
“Sophie?” called a man’s voice.
I gasped. “That’s Wolf!” I hit the button to close the garage door, and whispered to Nina, “Lock the door behind us.”
“Hi, Wolf.” I hoped I didn’t appear as nervous and queasy as I felt. “Thanks for coming.”
I walked hastily to the kitchen and unlocked the door. “There it is.”
“Looks like an ordinary lemon meringue pie to me.”
Nina stepped inside the kitchen. “Sophie saved me. I was about to take a bite when that little fly”—she pointed at it—“took a bite instead and keeled over dead.”
Wolf frowned. “It’s from Tommy Earl’s shop?”
“That’s what the box says.” I felt stupid for stating the obvious and hastened to add, “But I don’t think that’s where the pie came from.”
Wolf rubbed his chin. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to collect this. Maybe I’d better call in a crime scene processor.”
That was all I needed! More cops snooping around. No way! “Why don’t you close the box and slide it into a paper bag? I’m pretty sure I have a paper grocery bag.” I hurried to my pantry and pulled out a disposable cake pan. I liked to use them to send leftovers home with friends. “Then you could place the little plate and the fork in here. Just remember that I’m holding it, so my fingerprints are on this part of it.”
Wolf flashed me a look. “Thanks. That’s actually a good idea.” He gazed around. “Where’s Mochie? Is he okay?”
“I left him upstairs in the bedroom so he wouldn’t touch the pie.”
Wolf nodded. “Good thinking.” I handed him the cake pan and waited for him to pack everything.
“I would like to point out,” said Nina, “that my fingerprints are on the box and the plate and the fork. I found the box on Sophie’s doorstep, opened it, and cut a slice.”
“But Sophie stopped you from eating it?” Wolf did not look happy.
“Oh, come on!” I was irritated. “Cut me a break here. Now you think I’m baking poisonous pies and leaving them on my own stoop? Are you kidding me?”
Wolf was completely calm in spite of my outburst. “I know Nina didn’t bake it.”
“I might be offended, if it weren’t a relief to hear that,” Nina chuckled.
Wolf smiled, but I was in no mood for levity. Not with Lady Justice in my garage and Wolf imagining that I was baking poisonous pies. At that moment all I really wanted was for him to leave.
He dutifully pulled out gloves and packed the pie. “Nina, could you help me carry this out to the car, please?”
“Sure.” She picked up the cake pan and followed him out the door.
I watched them from the window. They exchanged a few words. I trotted upstairs and opened the bedroom door. Mochie stretched and yawned, then curled up again.
Back downstairs I carefully folded the tablecloth so no crumbs, if there were any, would land on the floor. I whipped a fresh tablecloth onto the table and took the soiled one to my basement, where I put it straight into the washing machine and let it run on hot.
When I returned, Nina was in the kitchen.
“What did he want?” I asked.
“He’s just worried about you. He thought you looked nervous.”
I sighed. “I’m not a good actress. How did you respond?”
“I told him you had every right to be upset because you’re being framed. And then he said the weirdest thing.”
“What did he say?” I held my breath.
“That Willa was working at The Laughing Hound when Alex was attacked. Remy saw her and it was confirmed by the restaurant computer records.”
Chapter 43
Dear Natasha,
I managed to burn the beautiful lattice on my apple pie. How do I avoid that? It definitely wasn’t done when the crust started burning.
Frustrated in Burning Bush, Georgia
Dear Frustrated,
Keep an eye on your pie. As soon as the crust is golden, place aluminum foil over it to prevent it from burning.
Natasha
Isank into a fireside chair, barely able to breathe. “That can’t be. Something’s not right. They can’t all have alibis.”
Mars, Daisy, and Bernie burst into the kitchen and stopped short. Daisy trotted toward me and placed her head in my lap.
“What happened here?” asked Mars as he closed the door.
Nina put on the kettle and made tea while she told them everything that had happened from the pie to Lady Justice and the fact that Willa had an alibi.
Bernie’s forehead crinkled. “I have never thought it was Willa. But now I have to wonder if Remy was covering for her.”
I felt as though he had handed me a ray of hope. “Why?”
“That was the day you came by to try the chicken pie made with phyllo, right?” asked Bernie.
“Yes.”
“Willa had the day off. She was a judge at the bake-off between Tommy Earl and Natasha. Either he misunderstood the date when Wolf asked him about it, or he’s covering for Willa.”
“Or they’re cheating you,” said Mars.
As I felt better, Bernie grew paler. He pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m checking to see if Remy was clocked in for that day.”
“If you can do that on an app, what’s to stop him from clocking in when he’s actually at a party across town?” asked Mars.
“Only I can do it f
rom a remote location. They have to clock in on the register in the restaurant. Remy isn’t clocked in for that day.”
I wanted to dance a jig. Maybe I had been correct about Willa after all.
Bernie poked his fingertip at his phone. A furrow developed between his eyebrows.
“Something wrong?” asked Mars.
“Someone changed Remy’s status for the day in question. Now the program shows him as working.” Bernie rose from his seat. “Excuse me, please, but I have to go.”
“Hold it, Inspector Clouseau.” Mars held a palm toward Bernie. “I understand that this involves The Laughing Hound and that it’s important. But we have to think this through, because Sophie comes first.”
Bernie sat down again, but he didn’t look happy. “You’re right. What if I call Wolf and he’s there, or they put a wire on me when I talk to Remy?”
We were all in agreement with that plan. While Bernie phoned Wolf, I shared the story about the contents of the vial Natasha had found in Peter’s limo.
“Wolf’s going to meet me at the restaurant,” said Bernie.
“I wish we could be there!” Nina beamed with excitement.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll stay here with Daisy and Mochie.”
“Are you worried about them?” asked Mars.
“Not really. But we know that Willa set a fire. I wouldn’t feel right leaving them alone in my house.”
Bernie shook his head. “I feel so guilty. I trusted Willa. I brought her into your home, thinking she had been wronged. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself until they have her in custody. We’ll take Daisy and Mochie with us.”
With harnesses and leashes on both Mochie and Daisy, we walked over to The Laughing Hound. Mochie didn’t walk quite as fast as Daisy, so he was carried for a good bit of the way. We went in through the back entrance, where Wolf discreetly waited for us.
Bernie led the way upstairs to a meeting room, where I had had some business lunches with small groups. When we were seated, Bernie explained the situation to Wolf, who shot me an apologetic look.
With the door to the meeting room open just enough for us to hear what was going on in his office, Bernie called in Remy.
