Tea, Thyme, an Murder (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 13)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Turning to the desk one more time, she saw the papers all strewn out as if Susan had run her hand over them when she fell. Bert instantly recognized the printouts because they were similar to the ones she used for the budgets of her own shop.

  She figured they must use the same program as her.

  What was the most eye-catching, however, were all the red numbers near the bottom of one page. She knew them well and knew if they cropped up, you were in trouble. It was an indication that you were overspending your income.

  It didn’t look good for the shop or for the sisters who worked in it.

  Bert could hear the sirens stop and knew the ambulance had to be right outside. Before she turned to head out and greet them, one more small detail caught her eye. The little French press sitting on the desk which had held the tea while it was brewing. Bending close, Bert saw something familiar, something she’d seen once already that same day. The purple splotches were indication enough for her. The tea Susan had drunk had poison hemlock in it.

  * * *

  “How are you always here at the scene when I take a new case on?” Harry half-joked half-scolded as he walked up to Bert who was standing against the mouth of the alley.

  “I’m glad they called you in,” she admitted upon seeing him, walking over and giving him a hug.

  “Is it that teacher you’ve been taking classes from?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure she was dead before I got here, but not long. She was still slightly warm.”

  “Well, trust me. I’ll get to the bottom of things,” he promised her. “I’ve got my crime scene techs in there right now.”

  “I hope I didn’t mess anything up by touching the body.”

  Harry grunted, showing he wasn’t thrilled with that fact, but tried not to show it. “Well, sometimes you don’t know. If you check to see if the person as alive or to revive them, you’re going to have to touch the body. The paramedics would have done some of the same things.”

  “But it wasn’t the paramedics. It was me,” she noted, having heard the unhappy tone in his voice.

  He let out a long breath through his nose. “You just stay out of it from here on and we’ll be good,” he said. Just like Carla, Henry knew how Bert couldn’t help but nose her way in when it came to a mystery—especially when it involved the death of someone she knew.

  Bert almost said, “I’ll try,” but knew that answer wouldn’t be good enough and bit her tongue before it came flying out. “Don’t worry. I will.”

  “As far as we know, this was a simple accident,” he noted with a shrug of his shoulders.

  This comment made Bert wrinkle up her nose in confusion. “An accident? No, she was poisoned,” she argued. Having set her own eyes on the crime scene, she’d already come to that conclusion on her own.

  “I was filled in on the details over the phone already.”

  Bert had already been interviewed by the first responding officer to hit the scene after the paramedics declared the victim deceased. In all cases of death like this, the cops were always called in. She’d given her full statement to the young man and clearly, he’d given all that info over to Harry before he’d made his way to the shop.

  However, she wasn’t going to allow Harry to just nonchalantly declare this an accident. While she knew he would look into every facet of the case, she wondered if he was eager to close the cover on it for some reason. “No, no. This was a murder.”

  “Yes, we usually treat most mysterious deaths such as this one as open-ended until we have more information, but you did mention to my officer that the tea on the desk was filled with poison hemlock.”

  Bert held her hands out. “Yes, poison hemlock. Which means she was poisoned.”

  “Well, don’t worry. My crime techs will be testing the tea to be sure.”

  “It was poison hemlock,” she insisted, folding her arms.

  “What did I say about staying out of it?” he demanded, that familiar impatience returning to the surface. His voice always grew more gravelly when he’d get irritated. “Trust me, Bert. I’ve got this under control.”

  “She wouldn’t have brewed herself a poisonous tea.”

  “Are we sure about that? Because, if you remember what I said earlier, picking wild plants and eating them is dangerous. You can’t ever know what you may accidentally be ingesting.” He motioned up the alleyway. “This case sounds much too similar to other accidental deaths I’ve encountered.”

  Bert clenched her jaw, trying to calm her voice before she spoke. “She wouldn’t have accidentally drunk poison hemlock tea. She was the one who taught us about that plant, remember? Someone else must have made the tea for her or snuck it in.”

  Harry shook his head and sighed. “I want you to head home now, Bert.”

  “But, what if you need me again?” she insisted, trying to convince him to let her stay. Deep down, she wanted him to go into the shop, see the body and the scene, and come back out and declare that she was right and that this was no accident—it was murder.

  But she also knew that wouldn’t happen, even if she was right.

  Harry wouldn’t admit it to her. He was as stubborn as they came and was so vastly different than her deceased husband who overcommunicated on most occasions. At the same time, it was proper police procedure to keep her out of the loop as a civilian—which she understood and tried to respect on most occasions.

  “I’m going to check out the scene for myself and I’ll make my own assessments. In either case, I don’t want you hanging around when I come back out, and I definitely don’t want you to be looking into this thing on your own. Leave it to the professionals.” With that, he walked off toward the crime scene.

  Chapter 7

  By the time Bert reached her apartment, she’d already made the decision to investigate this herself. If Harry was going to treat this as an accidental death, rather than a homicide, simply based on previous similar cases, she knew she’d have to dig around and find the real killer herself.

  She knew she should head to bed and get enough rest to face the day, but she wanted to start planning right away. After all, she needed a list of suspects she could potentially investigate.

  At the moment, her only suspect that came to mind was the sister, Karen. The back door to the shop had been open, meaning that whoever had come through either was a trusted friend (or family member) of Susan’s, they had a key, or they were simply forgetful and didn’t latch the door behind themselves.

  If it had been Karen, she would have already been in the building. If it had been someone else showing up after hours—like Bert had to find her phone—Susan must have trusted them because she let them in.

  So far, the only person who made any sense at all was Karen.

  Karen and Susan seemed like polar opposites, which seemed like a red flag for siblings going into business together. She supposed it was possible that Susan acted as the face of the company, great with people and customer service and terrible with numbers. That would be where Karen came in. She seemed more like the stereotypical accountant type who could handle the money management with ease and finesse.

  However, it was clear that Susan had been undermining her sister. Karen’s frustrated behavior—seemingly always talking about money—and the red numbers on the budget sheets at the crime scene were indication enough that the business was already in trouble out of the gate.

  Of course, with most small businesses, it took a while to get back what you’d put into the opening. However, by the sounds of it, Susan was already bringing the budget in the opposite direction.

  Could it be that Susan’s pride had all gone to her head? Did that make her feel like she had the right to act in any way she pleased despite her sister’s warnings?

  More importantly, had their money troubles been bad enough that Karen felt justified in killing over them? Did she stand to inherit something from her sister in the event of her death?

  Bert knew there was only one way to find out.


  She’d have to go over and talk to Karen first thing in the morning.

  * * *

  Bert woke up early the next morning, just around four a.m., having slept restlessly during the few hours she’d gone to bed. Unable to lay there staring at the ceiling any longer, she popped up out of the bed and headed into her kitchenette to brew some coffee. She had a long day ahead of her and needed to start getting ready anyway.

  By six, she was down in the shop working on baking some pies for that day’s batch of customers. She spent most of the morning hours cranking out the usual suspects—apple, cherry, pecan, pumpkin, chocolate mousse, lemon, and a few more. Besides the staples, she also rotated through various specialty dishes, ones she usually created herself.

  All of this made up a day’s sales. Bert believed that only fresh pies would cut it, and therefore tried to only bake as much as she would sell that day. Sometimes, if it was particularly busy, she and Shiv would work over lunch to make a few more.

  Bert did have a small section of “day old” pie if any did end up being left over and weren’t eaten by herself or friends. A lot of the time the middle and high school kids would pop in around three after classes and use whatever spare change they had to buy the steeply discounted slices of tasty dessert— (and Bert, if she didn’t have any day-old pie, sometimes gave them a slice of fresh pie for the same price).

  A little before 10, and opening time, Shiv arrived to help with the last minute set up for the day’s work and Bert was able to take a breather.

  Filling her mug with her fifth cup of coffee for the day, she pulled out her notes from the class the night before.

  Despite the potential murder case on hand, she still couldn’t help herself thinking all about the cheese and herb pie she was going to make. As a result, and looking over her scribbled notes now, she decided to give it a test run and try it out on Harry, Carla, and Shiv that day.

  In the early morning hours, before baking, she’d walked out to the park and picked from the abundant overgrowth of wild dandelion greens. She’d had no idea that the greens from this plant were so healthy and hearty—let alone edible. While she knew she couldn’t rely on finding dandelion greens year-round if the pie was a hit, she had decided to do the test run with them.

  During the fall and winter, she knew she could just buy regular greens from the store for such a pie, even if they wouldn’t have the same strong flavor.

  Checking her list of ingredients, she got to work. Getting out a pie tin, she greased it down with coconut oil and layered freshly made Phyllo dough into it to give the crust a flaky texture.

  “You’re making another pie? I thought you were done,” Shiv pointed out, stuffing her midnight black hair under her ball cap she always wore to work. It was more attractive than a hair net, she always said. Bert’s hair wasn’t extravagantly long, just past her shoulders in fact, but still long enough to need some management. She simply put her hair into a bun when she was cooking, and it worked well to keep everything in check.

  “This one is an experiment,” she said excitedly, putting a pot of water on to boil to blanch the dandelion greens.

  “Mmm, is it the savory pie you’ve been thinking about doing?”

  “That’s right,” Bert said, cracking three eggs into a metal bowl and grabbing the whisk. She brandished it like a sword before diving into the process of mixing.

  “Hey, there’s an extra apple pie here,” Shiv pointed out, realizing it wouldn’t fit in the glass display case that kept the desserts warm.

  “Oh, yes. We’re not selling that one. It’s a gift for someone who just lost a family member.”

  Giving a nod of understanding, Shiv transferred it back to the warmer beneath one of the ovens. Bert continued her experiment by slowly adding in the goat cheese little by little—whipping it in with the eggs in batches so it was smooth and creamy. She also periodically added in some cream here and there to create a thick velvety filling.

  When it seemed like she had a good ratio of the base, she added in the stars of the show—the herbs. These, of course, were store bought rather than picked. She could only do so much wildcrafting. It was a neat idea, but she honestly didn’t see herself doing a whole lot of it in the future.

  Into the mixture, she added sliced green onions, minced garlic, dill, and chives. A touch of sour cream would give it a tangy flavor that was reminiscent of onion dip for chips and veggies—which was exactly what she was going for with this dish.

  As she poured the filling into the crust, the door chimed as their first customer of the day walked in. “Good morning! Welcome to Pies and Pages,” Shiv welcomed the patron.

  When Bert looked up, she recognized the woman. It was Tayler.

  She walked toward the counter with a slight limp to one side. Bert had to wonder to herself if she had always walked like that?

  “Tayler! What a surprise!” Bert declared, turning to slide the pie into the oven. Dealing with the needy woman was the last thing she needed this morning after finding a dead body the night before. “Can I get you a slice of pie?”

  “You won’t believe what I just heard on the news. As soon as I realized what had happened, I had to rush over here to see you,” she jumped into the conversation without answering the baker’s question.

  Bert had a pretty good idea what it was that Tayler had heard. “What?” she asked anyway to give the woman the satisfaction of telling the story.

  “Susan Green died last night.”

  Bert gasped, putting up a hand to her mouth in a pretend show of shock. If she didn’t mention her involvement in the case, maybe Tayler would go away sooner. Again, that feeling of shame welled up in her chest, knowing she needed to be more patient and charitable.

  “Yes, and the news said that it was one of her students who found her.”

  “Whoa. That is a surprise,” Bert noted, brushing the flour off her hands onto her floral-patterned apron. “How did she die?”

  “It was an accident. She mixed up her herbs and brewed herself some sort of poisonous tea. They’re not saying what exactly it was yet.”

  Bert scowled at this latest information. Harry had even told the press that it was an accident. How could he? Did he truly believe this was some sort of mess up on Susan’s part or was he trying to set the killer at ease? “Susan got things mixed up? How could that even happen?” she asked, now interested in Tayler’s feedback on the situation.

  She shrugged. “It could happen to any of us, I suppose.”

  “But Susan? She spent an entire class telling us about what things not to pick that could be dangerous.”

  Tayler leaned in on the counter. “Well, many poisonous plants have beneficial properties if used in microdoses, you know. It’s all about knowing what plants, and what parts of plants, do what. Sometimes a root of something is poisonous but the leaves are a boon.”

  “I see you took good notes,” Bert praised her, not even remembering bits and pieces of that herself. She’d paid close attention in class, of course, but didn’t always pick up on everything. Also, with Tayler talking in her ear, it became harder to remember everything.

  “I like to be a good student,” Tayler bragged, straightening up and giving that same unnatural half-smile.

  “I guess you are.”

  “Anyway, who do you think it was?” she asked.

  Bert scrunched her eyebrows together. Did Tayler think this was a murderer as well? “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, which class member do you think found the body?”

  Bert tried not to show her true colors through her expression. “I have no idea who it could be.”

  Chapter 8

  When the lunch hour ended, and the customers had thinned out, Bert got the extra apple pie out of the warmer, wrapped it in a linen towel, and headed out the door. It was time to officially begin her own investigation of what happened to Susan. She wasn’t sure why she was attached to solving this case besides the fact that everyone else seemed to think it was an accid
ent.

  Bert simply knew that Susan, being the renowned wildcrafter and herbalist that she was, couldn’t have possibly mixed up her herbs and drank a poisonous tea. Could she?

  She was realizing she didn’t exactly have any sort of close relationship with Susan and no way of knowing. While she had some knowledge, did the woman’s ego get in the way and cause her to do something stupid?

  Still, that didn’t completely rule out murder either, and Bert was determined to get to the bottom of things. If it turned out to be an accident, she would accept that—but she wanted better proof.

  As she walked down the street, she tried to consider who else might have wanted Susan dead besides her sister. An old flame perhaps? An estranged family member? A rival?

  Bert stopped dead in her tracks. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” she whispered to herself, remembering Tayler’s comments from the night before about the fliers around town. Someone had supposedly opened a shop in the north end of town with the same exact name as Susan’s shop.

  Could it be that some villainous rival had done this deliberately to spite Susan? Perhaps Susan confronted them about it and they killed her in return.

  However, if she’d confronted them, why hadn’t she died at their shop or at some other place? Why had she died, drinking tea, in her own storeroom?

  No, it didn’t make sense. A confrontation between rivals would have more than likely ended in a crime of passion. Poisoning Susan’s tea was a much more deliberate and calculated move.

  In any case, Bert made a note to keep an eye out for one of those fliers for the shop in question. After her visit with Karen, maybe she’d see if she had time to drive and see this competitor’s shop in person—maybe even meet the face behind it.

  As Bert made her way along the sidewalk down the street toward Wild Herbs, she was surprised to spot a man standing out front wearing a fine suit and carrying a briefcase. He was peering through one of the front windows. “I think they’re closed today,” she called to him.