Pies Before Guys

by Kirsten Weiss

  A gust rocked the small car and slapped a wave of rain against the windshield.

  Doran, in a black windbreaker, which I hoped was waterproof, leaned across me and squinted out the window. “He said it was the brown one?”

  “Yeah,” I said, dragging out the word. Both Victorians were brown. Creepy Monterrey cypresses flanked them both. The trees dripped with gray-green trailing moss, blowing sideways in the gale. Candlelight flickered in the front windows above both porches. It wouldn’t be hard to honestly confuse Graham’s house for Aidan’s. That was the whole point of this pie-delivery exercise. Not knowing the actual house bothered me though. “Well, it doesn’t matter. If we go to Graham’s house, he’ll just send us to the other.”

  But Doran and I sat in the car, unmoving. I was starting to sweat in my raincoat, even if I was wearing only a t-shirt beneath.

  “So what are we expecting to get out of this?” Doran finally asked.

  “Take advantage of this weather to get inside Aidan’s house, ask questions about the murder, and snoop.”

  “Oh.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “How do you usually do that?”

  “I’m glad you asked, because I have a cunning plan. As Aidan’s shooing us from his door, I’ll twist my ankle and fall into the house. He can’t turn away someone with a sprained ankle in this rain.”

  He angled his head and pursed his lips. “Hm . . .”

  “Or, if Aidan’s nice, I’ll give him the pie sampler but ask to come inside so I can write down the reheating directions.”

  “These don’t sound like very good plans.”

  They were better than most of the schemes Charlene and I came up with. “Okay, let’s do this.” I flipped up the hood on my raincoat and stepped from the car. A blast of wind caught the door, blowing it shut on my legs and chest. “Oof.” I fought my way free of the car and stared at the lake of water between us and the front porch steps. There was no way through without getting our ankles soaked.

  Doran made his way around the car. “So?” he shouted over the wailing wind.

  “I guess we make a run for it.”

  “But which house?”

  “The closest one!”

  Headlights swept across us, and we froze like the guilty criminals we were.

  Charlene’s yellow Jeep roared through a puddle, spraying us with muddy water, and screeched to a halt.

  “Gross!” I shook the schmutzy water from my raincoat, while Doran swore.

  Looking like the guy on the fish-stick packages, a Frederick-free Charlene stepped from the Jeep in a yellow rain jacket and matching hat. She arched backward, cracking her spine, then stomped through the muck to us.

  “I thought you were staying in tonight,” I sputtered, annoyed. Couldn’t I have some alone time with my long-lost brother?

  “There’s no power at my place,” she said. “A tree knocked down a line. So I figured I’d come here.”

  Augh. “The electricity’s out here too,” I shouted, motioning to the windows of the twin brown Victorians. “They’re using candlelight.”

  “Rats,” she said. “I was hoping to watch Graham’s TV. Ghost Hunters is on.”

  “Which is Graham’s house?” I asked.

  “Funny.” She rubbed her chin. “You know, I’ve never been to his place before. It’s a little weird now that I think of it. I don’t have his phone number either.”

  Doran shifted his weight and glared from beneath his black hood. Water streamed down his face. “Can we get this over with before I drown?” He grabbed the pink box from my hands. “I’m going.”

  Charlene’s head turned. Her eyes widened. “No, don’t!”

  Doran moved toward the Victorian.

  Instinctively, I grabbed Doran and yanked him backward.

  He shook me off. “What are you doing? I nearly dropped the pie.”

  “Charlene—” What was I doing?

  “Jiminy Cricket,” she said, pointing. “Look!”

  I followed her gaze. Tentacles of black cable writhed atop the pool of water flooding the yards. The lines sparked menacingly.

  “The whole yard’s an electrocution hazard,” she continued. “Both their yards are.”

  Doran cursed. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  “We’ve got to warn Graham,” I said.

  “I told you,” she said, “I don’t have his number!”

  This was bad. “Well, call the electric company.”

  The squall sent a wave from the yard rippling toward us.

  Doran tugged us backward and to Charlene’s Jeep. Dripping and fumbling, we got inside and slammed the doors.

  We shivered and rubbed our hands together while Charlene called.

  She shook her head. “I can’t get through. Everyone and his mother must be calling the electric company right now.”

  “We’ve got to let Graham know about that wire.” I clutched the pink box, my gaze darting toward the sparking wire. “And Aidan too.”

  Rain drummed hollowly on the Jeep’s canvas roof.

  “It’s not likely he or that professor are going to come outside in this weather,” Doran said.

  “Yeah, but what if they do, or if it’s still down tomorrow?” I asked, worried.

  We sat in glum silence, pondering that.

  “There’s got to be a way to get to one of their porches,” I said.

  Doran pulled his phone from his pocket and fiddled with the keypad.

  “We can throw pebbles at their windows to get their attention,” Charlene said.

  I shook my head. “What if they come outside because they can’t hear us over the wind?”

  “We could fly a paper airplane to them,” she said.

  “In this hurricane?” I asked.

  “Hey,” Doran said, “I’m on hold with the electric company.”

  “Good man,” Charlene said.

  “I’m going to take another look outside.” I stepped from the Jeep. The wind tugged my hood, and I made a grab for it before it could fly off. I sloshed to the gravel trail that made up a sidewalk and studied the two homes.

  A car door slammed.

  I canted my head. In front of the Victorian without the downed power line were thickets of lavender, a tree stump, and a bench. Some midsized boulders stuck up from the growing pool of water.

  Charlene came to stand beside me. “Got any ideas?”

  “I think I can make it to that Victorian’s front porch without stepping in the water.” I gestured to the nearby tree stump.

  “You’re a baker, not a gymnast,” she growled. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “The biggest jump is from the bench to the front porch. But if I slip up on the porch, I’m still on the porch.”

  “Let Doran do it,” she said. “He’s nimbler.”

  “I’m not going to put my brother in danger.”

  “So you admit it’s dangerous!”

  In answer, I clambered onto the stump.

  “Come back here, young lady!” she shouted.

  I rose to my feet. Don’t think about falling off. Just go! I took a big step onto a small rock, just above the waterline. It wobbled beneath my feet, and my heart jumped. I moved hastily to the next, slightly larger stone, and then the next. I was doing it!

  “Doran’s on hold,” Charlene shouted. “There’s no point to going any farther!”

  But there was, because who knew when the utility company could get the live wire fixed and inform Graham and Aidan of the danger?

  By the third heart-poundingly wobbly stone, I thought this might have been one of my stupider ideas. By the fourth stone, I was certain of it.

  I climbed onto the largest boulder and surveyed my path. All I had left was the bench, a couple of feet away, and then from there, the porch. I reached with one foot for the bench. With a grunt, I clambered onto it and grabbed its back for balance.

  Charlene shouted something, but the wind carried her words far away.

  I gripped the back of the wood-and
-concrete bench. It faced the street, and I realized my problem. Its back was standing in my way, between me and the porch. I shifted my weight, testing how well the bench was anchored into the ground. It didn’t budge.

  Okay, I can do this. I’ll just step on its back really quickly and launch myself onto the porch. No problem. I blew out my breath and braced one foot on the top slat. One . . . two . . .

  I jumped. The bench tilted beneath me, and I was flying.

  Charlene screamed.

  I hit the front porch. There was a huge splash.

  My foot slipped on the top step, and I jounced downward. I grabbed the banister and righted myself on the bottom step.

  Slightly dizzy, I looked behind me. The bench had tipped onto its side. Ripples of water spread from its concrete seat.

  I trotted up the steps and banged on the front door.

  No one answered.

  I knocked again, scuffing my knuckles. “Ow.”

  The door opened, and Graham peered out at me. He adjusted his spectacles. “I don’t see pie.”

  “That’s because it’s in the car.”

  “It won’t do me any good there.” He made a face and opened the door wider. Graham’s relaxing-at-home wear wasn’t any different from his man-about-town clothing. His beige, button-up sweater vest strained over a short-sleeved checked shirt and matching khaki trousers. “You’re not going to make an old man go out for pie in this weather?”

  I shook my head. “No. There’s an emergency—a downed power line in Aidan’s yard.” I pointed.

  He walked to the edge of the porch and peered over the railing. “Damn. Has anyone called the power company?”

  “Doran’s on hold, but someone needs to warn Aidan.”

  He turned and frowned. “What’s my bench doing on its side?”

  “I—” Shamefaced, I shuffled my feet. “Maybe it was the wind?” Or maybe it was a baker who’d left her pie sampler behind. “Look, both your yards—”

  “Yes, yes,” he said testily. “I’ll call Aidan. Come in.”

  I followed Graham, muttering about lost pies. In his kitchen I waited, teeth chattering, while he dialed Aidan on an old Bakelite wall phone.

  “Aidan, it’s Graham . . . There’s a live wire in your front yard . . . Yep . . . Yep . . . If I find electrocuted rats in my lawn, we’re going to have another talk about that ivy!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ask Aidan if he left anything behind at Pie Town on Sunday,” I whispered. My pie plan of attack tonight had gone kablooey. But I’d already planted the seed with Dean Prophet that Professor Starke had left something in Pie Town. Now I could do the same with Aidan and see how he reacted.

  Okay, it wasn’t the best plan. But I was desperate. And cold. And wet.

  “The owner of Pie Town wants to know if you left anything there on Sunday.” Graham covered the receiver with his hand. “He says no.”

  “It must have been that other professor then,” I said loudly, hoping Aidan would hear.

  “I warned you about that power line,” Graham said. “Now we’re both trapped inside until someone fixes it.” He banged down the receiver. “Idiot.”

  “You warned him?” I asked, my scalp prickling.

  “He was getting a sofa delivered last December—nearly a year ago. The top of the delivery truck rammed into the metal thingummy on his roof that the power line runs into. So some genius just wrapped the line around a branch of his plum tree. A plum tree!”

  “The wind must have snapped the branch,” I said. “Have you got a flashlight?”

  He opened a kitchen drawer and handed me a heavy flashlight.

  “I’ll be right back.” I returned to the front porch and shone the light in Aidan’s yard. The plum tree’s leaves were gray burgundy beneath the artificial light. I could see now that a slim branch was tangled in the dangling line.

  I aimed the light higher and found the broken branch. Frowning, I studied it. It had broken in the middle. Was that natural? Or was I seeing something sinister just because it was the proverbial dark and stormy night and I had murder on the brain?

  I glanced toward the road. Charlene had vanished. I guessed she was in the Jeep with Doran.

  My cell phone vibrated in the pocket of my raincoat. Tucking the flashlight beneath my arm, I dug it out. Doran. I answered.

  “Hey, genius,” he said, “you realize you’re stuck there until someone fixes that cable, don’t you?”

  Oh, crumb. “Um, did you get hold of someone at the electric company?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long did they say they’d be?” I asked.

  “Maybe four or five hours.”

  I groaned.

  Graham emerged on the porch and frowned at the cars on the street. “So who’s going to bring me my pie?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Utility company staff arrived only an hour later. Men in hard hats and raincoats spilled from white trucks. They fanned across the neighborhood, and soon the cable stopped sparking.

  One of the men pounded on Aidan’s door.

  Graham chuckled and let the drapes in the kitchen window fall. “Wrapping that cable around a branch doesn’t seem so clever now, does it? Intellectuals.”

  I retrieved the pie sampler, delivered it to Graham, then got into Charlene’s Jeep and sank low in the front seat. Doran had abandoned the expedition as soon as he’d been certain the electric company was on its way.

  Bracing my elbow against the window frame, I propped my head in my hand. I couldn’t blame my brother for bugging out. The weather was miserable, and who wanted to just sit around watching a house?

  Rain lashed the Jeep’s windows. “Stargate?” Charlene asked.

  “Why not?” I said. After listening to Graham reminisce about the Korean War, I needed something fun and mindless.

  We drove to her wooden two-story. Wind tossed the exuberant garden, hemmed by a picket fence.

  In her living room, I slumped on Charlene’s floral-print couch. “I didn’t get a good look at the tree limb. And even if I had, it’s not like I’m an expert in tree-limb breakage. It could have been an accident.”

  My rain slicker dripped from the coat-tree near the front door. The TV flickered, illuminating the living room in shades of gray, a Stargate rerun playing silently.

  She sipped her Kahlúa and root beer and watched the screen. “But what are the odds?”

  Yeah. I didn’t really believe the accident theory either. Wrenching free the hard pillow behind me, I clasped it to my chest. “It’s a weird way to try to kill someone though. I mean, first, the killer would have to know that the line had been wrapped around a tree limb.”

  “You said Graham knew.”

  “I doubt Graham’s the killer. Anyway, next there’d need to be a convenient storm for our hypothetical murderer. Finally, they’d have to somehow break the limb and drop the power line onto the lawn. And they’d have to do all that without getting themselves electrocuted in the process.”

  “Maybe they broke the limb before it started to rain.” She gestured toward the night-blackened window.

  “In the daytime?” My face tightened, and I ran my fingers along the pillow’s seam. “In Aidan’s front yard?”

  “It’s a quiet street,” she said, still not meeting my gaze, “and the houses are set far apart.”

  “Except for Aidan’s and Graham’s. And you’re mad at me for bringing Doran, aren’t you?” I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d also nearly gotten my brother electrocuted. If she hadn’t arrived in the nick of time, he might have been hurt or killed.

  And if Charlene and I had been on our own, who knows what would have happened? Bottom line: I wasn’t happy with myself.

  Also, my feet itched from all their time spent in damp shoes.

  “I’m not mad.” She sighed. “I understand wanting to spend time with your brother.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m worried about you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  She met my
gaze, her blue eyes weary. “Because I don’t think you can force a relationship, and I don’t want you to get hurt with unrealistic expectations.”

  That was surprisingly sensitive of Charlene. Was she thinking of her own estranged relationship with her daughter? I had faith they’d patch it up. Who could resist Charlene? But I knew the separation was hard on my friend.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “About my brother,” I lied. But were my expectations for him unrealistic? “Doran did come to San Nicholas to get to know me.” And now that he had, did he think it had been a bad idea? I gnawed my bottom lip. Was I pushing too hard, driving him away?

  “Did you two talk while I was in Graham’s house?” I asked anxiously. “Did he say anything?”

  “There wasn’t much else to do but talk,” she said.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What did he say?”

  She rubbed her wrinkled chin. “We talked about the weather. He doesn’t like it. Too cold and damp.”

  I collapsed back on the sofa and burrowed deeper into my borrowed Pie Town hoodie. “Another reason to return to sunny SoCal.” The irony was, I was from Orange County. Doran and I had been so close for years and not known it, and then I’d moved here.

  “He also asked about Abril.” She smiled craftily. “Our plan there is working. That young man’s not going anywhere as long as he’s got a shot at rescuing the damsel in distress.”

  “That’s your plan, not my plan. Whatever happens between Abril and my brother has nothing to do with me.” I crossed my fingers beside my thigh, where she couldn’t see.

  “What’s wrong with playing cupid?” she asked.

  “It’s for entirely selfish reasons.”

  “Yours may be selfish. I’m doing it for you.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to find a hole in her logic and failing. “I’ll lower my expectations about Doran.” And definitely not think about him and Abril.

  “As long as you admit you were wrong,” she said.

  My eyes narrowed. “Wrong about what?”

  “About bringing a noob on an investigation without me.” She tilted her chin down and stared, her white brows lowering. “You realize I saved your brother’s life. You owe me.”