Killer Crust (A Pizza Lovers Mystery)

by Chris Cavender

  Before they could get there though, I heard one of the twins from Raleigh say as he handed his brother a folded ten-dollar bill, “You were right.”

  The other brother was smug as he said, “You rarely go wrong betting that a leopard is not going to change his spots.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “Have you two had prior dealings with Luigi, too?”

  “Haven’t we all?” the twin who’d just pocketed the bill asked. “I thought that was the real reason for this little show Luigi’s putting on.”

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kenny said, and Anna did nothing to dispute it. “We barely know the man.”

  “Sure. Right,” the twin said. “How about you two?” he asked the Asheville couple. “You look like your paths have crossed his in the past, and I’m guessing that it wasn’t all that pleasant for you.”

  I’d been watching Jeff and Sandy part of the time while Luigi had been talking, and I knew that what the twin was saying had to have been true. There was history there, whether they admitted it or not. What was Luigi up to? Was there really even a twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize? There had to be. Bob had made sure that it was in the contract.

  So what exactly was going on?

  Was it simply a competition for the best indie pizza in North Carolina, or did Luigi have something darker in mind gathering us all together like this?

  After the deluge of reporters left, we were still waiting for Bob and David to show up.

  “Where could they be?” I asked my sister.

  “Maybe they’re in the lobby waiting for us to find them,” she said.

  “Then let’s go check on them. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of answering the same stupid questions. Where did Luigi find these so-called reporters, anyway?”

  “I’m guessing grocery store fliers and middle school newspapers,” Maddy said with a broad grin.

  “Then let’s go find our men,” I said.

  Maddy and I were leaving when we spotted Anna from Charlotte and Luigi off to one side in the corridor between the atrium and the main lobby.

  “You can’t stop it,” she said fiercely.

  Luigi answered sharply, “We both know better than that. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again. I won’t allow it.”

  “You don’t have a say in the matter. Not really,” she said, and then stormed off in our direction. I noticed that Luigi smiled a little as Anna left him to return to the cocktail party, and then he started back toward the auditorium where the contest would be held.

  I stopped Anna before she could get past us and I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I suppose that I’m just a little overly emotional these days.”

  Maddy suggested, “Why don’t you come back in and have a glass of champagne with us? It will make you feel better, I promise.”

  “Sorry, but no thanks,” she said.

  “If you don’t like champagne, they’ve got some nice white wine instead,” I suggested.

  “No thanks. I really can’t. Bye.”

  She left us quickly, and after she was gone, I asked Maddy, “Do you have any idea what that all about?”

  “Who knows? Luigi surely has a way with people, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s a real charmer, all right,” I answered. “It’s a good thing he has Jack Acre for Marketing and Sales.”

  “If you say so,” Maddy said.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like him?”

  “The jury’s still out on him. After all, we haven’t really had a chance to get to know him, have we?”

  We walked out into the lobby, the central hub of the complex, but Bob and David were nowhere to be found. We were still trying to figure out where they were when Jack Acre approached us. “Have you seen Luigi, by any chance?”

  “He was headed for the auditorium the last time we saw him,” I said.

  “Good,” Acre said. “It took me forever to find his meds. The man’s room was a real train wreck.”

  A second later, Kenny from Charlotte nearly knocked Jack down as he accosted us. “Where’s my assistant?” he demanded of us.

  “We haven’t the faintest clue. It’s not our night to watch her,” Maddy said, matching Kenny’s tone.

  “I heard she was with you,” Kenny said with a little less agitation.

  “She was, but she’s not here now.”

  “And you don’t know where she went?”

  “No, we don’t,” I said. I had a feeling Anna wasn’t in any mood to deal with her boss after arguing with Luigi, and even if I knew where she’d gone, I wasn’t about to rat her out.

  “You’ve got to admit one thing, Sis,” Maddy said to me after Kenny left and we were about to call our men to see where they were.

  “What’s that?”

  “At least our lives aren’t boring.”

  “I’ll give you that. But why exactly is that a good thing?”

  “I love working at the Slice, and you know it, but it’s not exactly a hotbed of activity. The air around here is singing with energy.”

  “I can feel it too, but I’m not so sure that it’s positive energy.”

  “I never said that it was, only that it was there. We’d better watch our steps around this gang. Like the woman said, we could be in for a bumpy ride.”

  I knew in my heart that Maddy could be right, but I wasn’t at all sure why she was so happy about that.

  I could have used a little bigger slice of boring before the contest began, and the drama really had a chance to start. Spending time a little later with Bob and David helped, but it was still tough getting to sleep that night.

  Tomorrow was potentially the start of two of the biggest days of my life.

  Chapter 4

  When we walked up the steps of the stage the next afternoon, Maddy and I were falling all over each other with anticipation, anxious to begin. The contestants were allowed inside the auditorium, and we all got our first look at the stage. As promised, there were four identical pizza making stations set up, with individual ovens, refrigerators, prep tables and all the tools we’d need for the two days of the contest.

  Maddy and I were still familiarizing ourselves with the layout when we heard Luigi say to the whole group, “If you’ll all come together over here by the main judging table, we can get started.”

  We all did as he asked, and once we were gathered together, Luigi said, “Have you all read the rules and procedures changes?”

  “Yes,” one of the Raleigh twins said. “What does the section on judging mean, exactly, and why is there only one chair at the table where you’re sitting right now?”

  It was a question Maddy and I had discussed ourselves, asking it after we’d read the three changes to the contest that Luigi had sprung on us at the last second. One point in particular struck us as odd: it had said that the contest would be judged at the organizer’s discretion, whatever that meant.

  “There’s only one chair for a very good reason,” Luigi said smugly. “I am Laughing Luigi’s Pizza Dough. As the CEO and main stockholder, everything in the company comes down to my decision, so I’ve decided that I, and I alone, will judge who wins.”

  “Do you mean that it’s not even going to be a blind taste test?” Jeff Asheville asked him. “How are you going to prove that you’re impartial?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me,” Luigi said with a grin.

  “And if I don’t?” he asked.

  “It’s not too late for you to drop out of the competition,” Luigi explained. “Is that what you really want to do?”

  Jeff looked at his wife, who shook her head once. “No,” Jeff answered. “We’ll stay in it.”

  “I thought you might,” Luigi said. “Are there any other questions?”

  One of the twins started to say something, but his brother grabbed his arm and squeezed it so hard that the skin turned white under his grip.

  “Nothing? Good. Get to work, an
d may the best pizza win.” He motioned to the back door and said, “Let them in.”

  A number of folks filed into the auditorium, including quite a few faces that were familiar to Maddy and me. Had they come out to support us, or watch us as we failed? I smiled softly when I saw Bob and David fight for a seat near the front. At least we’d have two folks pulling for us. As I watched the people come in, I saw a familiar, but unexpected face in the crowd. It was the woman who’d had the confrontation with Luigi three weeks ago on this very stage. What was she doing here? Luigi must have noticed me staring into the crowd, because it didn’t take him long to see her as well. “Excuse me,” he told us all as he walked down the steps toward Mrs. Ford. She’d made good on her threat of not just rolling over after being dumped from the competition, and I couldn’t blame her. Who wanted to miss out on a chance of winning twenty-five grand?

  Fortunately, she was close enough to the stage so we could hear what was going on. It didn’t hurt that neither she nor Luigi tried in the least to keep their voices down. She’d come ready for a fight, and I knew that Luigi wouldn’t back down either. We were in for quite a show, unless I missed my guess.

  “This is a public contest,” Mrs. Ford said as Luigi approached. “I have as much right to be here as everyone else.”

  “You don’t think we can throw you out?” Luigi asked. He was clearly unhappy with her presence there.

  “I already talked to a lawyer. The only way you can exclude me is if you make everyone else leave, too. Is that what you want? I can see the headlines across North Carolina tomorrow. PIZZA DOUGH KING FAILS TO RISE. I’ve done a mock-up of a press release with that as a headline, if you’d like to see it.”

  She looked at Luigi smugly, mostly because she had him where she wanted him, and she knew it. I was certain that one of the reasons our sponsor was holding the competition was to promote his company, and contrary to popular belief, bad press was in no way better than no press at all.

  Luigi turned his back on Mrs. Ford and rejoined us on the stage.

  Without another glance, he turned to the audience and said, “Welcome to the first competition to find the greatest independent pizza maker in all the state.”

  Everyone applauded as Luigi introduced each team. When Maddy and I were introduced as the hometown team, there was an explosion of noise, and I was reminded yet again that we were under the microscope here in Timber Ridge. After the announcement, Luigi turned to us all and said, “Good luck.”

  Maddy and I started as each team leapt into action, but it started off badly, and then went downhill from there.

  It appeared that we were going to fail, and do it epically, in front of most of our regular customers.

  Before I even realized how late it was getting in the competition, Luigi announced, “Contestants, you have seventeen minutes left to present your entries in this stage of the contest using Luigi’s regular, and most popular, crust.” Maddy and I stared down at the disappointment of a pizza in front of us that we’d just pulled out of the portable oven. It had been like working in the middle of a circus trying to make the pizza, and we’d let the crowd, and all of the attention, get to us. The stage itself was jammed with pizza makers, Luigi, and a few photographers who always seemed to get in the way; plus, there wasn’t an open seat in the auditorium as we looked out onto the sea of faces. There was nothing like looking back at an audience that was all gathered to watch us fail. The pizza in front of us was an unmitigated disaster. I was used to working with my own soft and pliable dough, but Luigi’s was so stiff that it was all I could do to knuckle it into the pan. By the time I was finished with it, it looked as though a third grader had attempted to bake a pie, and unsuccessfully, at that. Maddy’s veggie topping distribution and lopsided cheese application hadn’t been much better.

  We were both off our game, and we knew it.

  As we studied the disaster in front of us, the Asheville team beside us pulled something out of their oven that looked ready for a magazine shoot.

  “Do you see that?” Maddy whispered.

  “I’m trying not to look. Is there any way we can salvage this thing?”

  She looked down at our pizza and shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s a complete and epic fail.”

  I glanced at the huge digital clock hanging over our heads like a sword. There was now sixteen minutes left, barely time enough to make and bake another pizza. “We might as well try something else,” I said. I’d left a ball of dough out on the counter when I’d made the first crust, so I grabbed it and started shaping it into a round disk.

  “At least this one’s working up better into the shape I need,” I said. “Get your new toppings ready.”

  Once the crust was complete, I took my sauce, the only thing I was allowed to supply myself, and spread it carefully on top of the dough. I slid the pan to Maddy, who added her toppings and cheese in a pleasing random pattern, and then I slid the pie into the oven.

  Now all we could do was wait for the results, and hope that they were better than our first attempt.

  “What should we do with this one?” I asked as I stared at the pizza gone wrong still sitting on our cooling rack.

  “There’s only one place this thing belongs,” my sister said as she slid it off the pan and into the trash.

  One of the Raleigh twins grinned in our direction as he saw what Maddy had done. “I hope that was just your warm-up pizza.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We always make a really bad one first to get it out of our systems,” I said, doing my best to smile as I said it.

  “Then you’re bound to win the whole competition now,” the twin said. “That looked pretty hideous, and I doubt that it even tasted that good.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Sandy from Asheville said beside me. “I don’t know about you, but all of this attention is really unnerving.”

  “Thanks,” I said. It felt good that even in the heat of battle, one of the other contestants cared enough to try to make Maddy and me feel better. I admitted, “I’ve never baked in a competition before. Have you?”

  She laughed as she started cleaning her station, her perfect pizza parked in the warmer ready for judging. “Oh, yes. Jeff and I have done lots of these before. Don’t worry. You get used to it after a while.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I said.

  Sandy sneezed just as Luigi approached us. “You aren’t coming down with a cold, are you?” he asked.

  “No, it’s just allergies,” she said as she blew her nose. “There seems to be something year-round that I’m allergic to these days.”

  Luigi boasted, “I’ve never been cursed with them myself, but I know that allergies can be miserable. Are you taking anything for them?”

  “I am,” she said. “I just forgot to take one of my pills today.”

  “Well, carry on,” Luigi said as he drifted over to the Charlotte kitchen to see what they were up to.

  “Eleanor, come look at this,” Maddy said.

  “Excuse me,” I told Sandy as I joined my sister at the oven. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s not baking,” she said.

  “What?” I looked at the oven, and then opened it. Sure enough, while it had produced heat at one time, it was losing warmth, and fast. I checked the oven’s settings, but it was still set properly to 425° F.

  And then I spotted the cord. The plug was barely an inch from the power strip, and at a casual glance, it appeared to be fine, but somehow, it had become dislodged. As I plugged it back in, I glanced over at my competitors, but no one was watching me. Anyone could have done it, but I had a sneaking feeling that it had been one of the Raleigh twins or the team from Charlotte. It couldn’t have been Jeff or Sandy, since I’d been talking to them the entire time, unless of course they were working with one of the other teams to eliminate us early. I had to stop being so paranoid. Chances were that not everyone on that stage was out to get us. It was most likely just an accident that the oven cord had bee
n pulled out.

  At least that’s what I found myself hoping.

  “Who unplugged our oven?” Maddy asked me, a fire in her eyes that I’d seen plenty of times before.

  “It could have just been an accident,” I said.

  She clearly didn’t believe that, not for one second. “Let me ask you something. How hard was it to plug the oven back in?”

  “It took a little force to get it back in the socket,” I admitted.

  “Then it was no accident. We need to watch our backs, Eleanor. People can do nasty things when there’s this kind of money involved.”

  “No harm done, though,” I said. “I plugged it in again, so we’re back in business.”

  She didn’t reply, but just gestured to the clock instead.

  “Don’t worry, Maddy. It’s going to turn out fine.”

  I just wished that I could believe it.

  My sister and I both spent the remaining time watching the pizza, the power cord, and the oven itself, all at the same time.

  When Luigi announced, “One minute left,” I knew that I’d have to take our pizza out, even though I would have liked to have given it at least three more minutes in the oven. After all, having a bad entry to submit was better than not having one at all. I took the pizza peel, slid it under the pie, and pulled it out. After I transferred it to a serving plate, Maddy quickly cut it and plated the best-looking slice just as Luigi announced, “Time is now officially up. Competitors, present your slices here.”

  The others had all finished early, and they pulled their finished products from the warming bags, but I wondered if that might actually hurt them. The pizzas could be kept warm, but would they retain their crispness that long? At least ours was guaranteed to be fresh.

  Luigi made a show of studying each piece before he sampled it, inspecting the bottom of the crust, the sides, and the toppings. After making notations on a clipboard as he inspected them individually, he tasted each piece. After he was finished, he compiled the scores and then picked up his microphone again. “In order of finishing, from last place to first, we have the following teams, named for the cities they represent. Coming in fourth, is Asheville.” There was polite applause from the crowd, and when I looked at the husband-and-wife team, they appeared to accept the verdict, though I could see Jeff’s clenched fists that denied his calm, outward demeanor. How in the world had we managed to beat them? I’d seen their pizza, and it had been a work of art. Could it honestly have tasted that awful, or was something else going on here? No matter. At least we hadn’t come in last place.