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

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Somewhat caught off guard the man stumbled back from the window and looked around to see who it was who was talking to him. “Oh, hello. Did you say something?”

  “Yes. I doubt they’ll be open today, if ever again.”

  The man, who seemed to be in his late forties but with pitch black hair slicked back against his head, chuckled. “Yes, of course. I knew they were closed. I’m the Green’s lawyer.”

  Bert’s eyebrows both shot up. “Their lawyer?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I was supposed to meet Ms. Karen here this morning,” he noted, peering through the window again. “But it doesn’t appear that she’s here.”

  Bert looked down at the pie in her arms. “I’m not surprised, what with her sister dying and all. She may just be scatterbrained or lost track of time.”

  The lawyer hummed as he pursed his lips. “Perhaps, but I don’t think so. Karen seemed eager to get the will and other preliminaries out of the way right out of the gate. Asked me to meet her.”

  Now that was a surprise. Bert knew the sisters probably butted heads more often than they got along, but to rush all the business and money matters so soon after death? It seemed suspicious. “Do people often do that? Get to the paperwork right away?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah. For some folks, it’s their way of grieving. Keep as busy and overwhelmed as possible so they don’t have to think about their deceased loved one.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  He cupped a hand around his eyes to see inside. “But she’s not here, it seems, even though she asked me to come.”

  “Did you try the back door?”

  “The back and front multiple times. I feel like I’ve been knocking for so long that my knuckles just might be bruised.” He shook his head and stepped away. “Well, I didn’t get any lunch before driving out here. Do you know of any good places to eat?”

  Bert perked up, smiling at him. “Well, I own a pie shop if you’re interested.”

  “Pie? I don’t think so. I really need something heartier.”

  “I guess that makes sense. There are a few good breweries nearby I can show you if you’re interested.”

  He smirked. “Sounds fine, as long as I’m not taking you away from anything.”

  Bert held up the pie. “I was actually here to drop off a pie for Karen.”

  “Ah, yes. A kind gesture to be sure,” he said, motioning for her to lead the way. They began walking together down the street. “You a friend of the family?”

  “No, not really. I was in Susan’s class and I just thought Karen might appreciate a pie. Sometimes it’s just nice to know someone cares, even a little, during these sorts of times.”

  “That’s very true. If only we had more people like you in the world.”

  Bert let out a quiet laugh. “That’s a bit funny coming from a lawyer,” she joked.

  The lawyer laughed heartily. “I suppose, so, but I mostly deal in private family matters. That’s my specialty. I still get my share of drama, but less so.”

  They walked on in silence for a few moments, and Bert felt eager to bombard him with questions about the sisters—especially about what the will contained. If Karen stood to inherit something, or there was a life insurance policy out on Susan, that would give an even bigger motive for murder.

  However, Bert didn’t even bother going there. She knew most lawyers would work to keep a tight lid on confidential items such as a will—at least until it had been officially fulfilled.

  Instead, she tried to think of something else she could ask, something less invasive. “So, have you worked for the Green sisters for long?”

  “Only about fifteen years,” he said with a hint of humor.

  “Wow, that’s a long time.”

  “And they’ve been good clients, thanks to Karen.”

  “Karen?” Bert asked, her curiosity rising to the surface.

  “Well, I would never have said this while Susan was alive, but Karen was the brains behind all of their business ventures. She knew how to handle money and knew how to make it.”

  So, Bert had been right in her original assessment.

  “If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I would have kept on working for them. I’m not sure Susan would have paid my bill in a timely manner. Honestly, I’m surprised Karen never went into business for herself.”

  “I guess now she can,” Bert noted.

  “I suppose so. Just a shame it had to be under this type of circumstance.”

  “Well, maybe it’s for the best, what with another herb shop opening with the same name,” she said, trying to lead the conversation to get more information. If anyone knew anything about a rival shop that was supposedly copycatting, the family lawyer would.

  “Ah, yes. That.”

  “You know about it?” Bert asked innocently.

  “Not until last night when Susan called me up in a tizzy, telling me that she wanted me to hunt down whoever was behind it and sue their pants off. Those were her exact words, in fact.”

  Bert snorted a laugh back. “So, did you find them?”

  He held out one hand openly. “That’s just it. I couldn’t find it.”

  “Huh?” Bert questioned, stopping in her tracks. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I couldn’t find any sort of paperwork, ads, or anything else related to another shop with the same name. I thought Susan was mistaken until you just said something.”

  “Well, I’m not sure either. All I know was there were fliers around town. At least, that’s what I heard.”

  The lawyer scowled as if he’d just smelled something rotten. “That’s strange. Do you have one of these fliers?”

  “No, I don’t, but I can keep an eye out.”

  “That would be great.” Digging into his pocket, he produced a card. “If you find one, give me a call, will you? I’m interested in tracking this whole thing down if it exists.”

  “Will do,” Bert agreed. More and more, it seemed that the mystery shop had something to do with the death of Susan Green.

  Chapter 9

  Bert didn’t find any fliers for any kind of herbal shop over the weekend. She also was unable to track down Karen either in that time. Without any real evidence of a competing shop and no direct way to contact Karen, there was nothing else she could do.

  It seemed her little investigation had come to a dead end.

  “Maybe Harry was right,” Bert sighed, leaning over her mug of beer and taking a sip. They were sitting in her favorite restaurant The Burning. A dim yellowish lamp hung over their extra tall table in the corner of the room near a pair of crossed boat oars. The restaurant and brewery was themed after summer camp movies and thus was decorated as such, but with a more elegant flair. “Maybe Susan’s death really was an accident. The more I learn about her the more I think that she really wasn’t as smart as she led everyone to believe.”

  Carla reached across the table and gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. “Hey, you can’t blame yourself. These things happen. Sometimes, there are just freak accidents we can’t control.”

  “I guess so,” she agreed.

  “Hey, ladies. Good to see you tonight,” Darwin, the brewery’s owner, greeted them with a big smile. He wore his usual camp director uniform for business hours. His bald head shimmered in the low lighting.

  “Hi, D. How is business tonight?”

  “It’s Sunday night, so the weekend is winding down. It’s still crazy, just not as crazy as Friday or Saturday.”

  Carla beamed, bopping her head like a silly school girl as she leaned in toward him.

  Bert knew that Carla and D had been seeing each other romantically, but they’d been very strict about keeping things hush-hush—or at least Carla had.

  “Well, can I get you ladies anything to eat, or is it just drinks tonight?”

  “I’ll have a salad,” Carla said, attempting to look healthy and dainty in front of D. Bert knew that Carla could put food away like no one else, but it l
ooks unseemly on a woman who was trying for a semi-refined look.

  Bert was in no such mindset. “I’ll have the Jason Jalapeño Plate,” Bert said, “with extra mashed potatoes.” It was a delicious meal of spicy jalapeno and cheese cornbread, Cajun mashed potatoes, and a pulled pork rum sandwich with a kick. It was all served on a ceramic plate that looked like a hockey mask. The cornbread also came with a vibrant red raspberry jam to complete the look.

  “Coming right up, ladies.” He marched back toward the kitchen.

  “So, when are you and D and Harry and I going on a double date?” Bert asked outright.

  Carla was taken aback by the comment. “A double date? D and I aren’t dating.”

  Bert rolled her eyes. “Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I know you guys are seeing each other.”

  “No, I think you’ve got it all mixed up. I’m not even interested in D,” she outright lied to Bert’s face. She was clearly embarrassed by the whole thing, which Bert could understand. However, after the way Carla had spent months pestering her about her relationship with Harry, it was only fair to receive payback.

  “If you’re not interested in him, then why did you order just a salad? It simply means I’ll have to feed you some of my leftover pie after we leave.”

  Carla opened her mouth to protest again but froze in place with one finger up in the air. “Hey, isn’t that Karen Green?” she asked.

  “Don’t try and change the subject,” Bert scolded her, thinking she was just trying to make Bert forget she’d asked about D.

  “I’m serious. I think that’s Karen,” she said pointing toward the bar.

  Unable to help her curiosity, Bert turned in her chair to look behind herself. Sure enough, there sat Karen sipping a tall frothy glass of beer. “Holy cow, you’re right.”

  “I told you I wasn’t lying.” Carla folded her arms triumphantly with a sly smirk.

  “I’m going to talk to her,” she said, ignoring her friend’s little bout of victory over the conversation.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t know that I’ll get another chance.” Pushing up from the table, Bert carried her mug of beer over and sat in the vacant spot at the counter next to Karen. “Hi, Karen, right?”

  Leaning back with a furrowed brow of confusion, Karen looked the newcomer up and down. “Do I know you?”

  “I was in your sister’s class before she . . .” she let her voice trail off, not wanting to say the potentially offensive word to a mourning family member.

  Karen was quiet for a second, eyeballing Bert. “Before she died?” she finished the thought for her.

  “Y-Yes. I just came over to say how sorry I am about the whole thing.”

  “Wait a minute, are you the one who left a pie at the back door of the alleyway?” she asked.

  Bert had done that on Saturday around noon when she found the shop empty again. She smiled. “Yes, that was me. Sorry I had to leave it outside like that. I just didn’t know if or when you were going to be around, and I had just hoped you’d find it. Seems like you did.”

  “Yes, I did. Thank you. It was quite amazing. Probably the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

  Bert took a satisfied sip of her beer. If there was one thing that always put people at ease, it was a slice of delicious pie. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “It was nice. And don’t worry, I’ll get you your refund for the portion of the class you didn’t get to take.”

  Bert’s eyebrows pushed together. “Oh, no. That’s not why I came over here at all. I just had tried to catch you at Wild Herbs a few times and wasn’t able to track you down. So, when I saw you sitting here I knew I had to pop over and tell give my condolences.”

  This time, Karen’s eyes widened in satisfied surprise. “Oh.” She blinked a few times. “I’ve been getting calls non-stop at the store of people wanting their money back for the classes.”

  “At a time like this? That’s terrible.”

  “Well, at least one person thinks so.”

  Bert gave a humored shrug. “Besides, I couldn’t have called you. I lost my phone a few days ago.”

  Karen put up a hand. “Hold on. Is it in a greenish case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, well, then it’s over at the shop.”

  “It is?” Bert exclaimed as if she were surprised. She’d hoped to get her phone back sometime this weekend but had given up hope and was planning on asking Harry to look for her. Now she didn’t have to.

  “Why don’t you pop by tomorrow morning sometime and pick it up?”

  “Sounds great,” Bert agreed, drinking from her mug and letting the bubbles play along her tongue. She was usually a wine type of person, but the beer here at The Burning had an excellent rich flavor. “So, not to pry, but is the shop going to close now?”

  At this, Karen smiled. “Oh, heaven’s no. I’m planning on carrying on my sister’s legacy. I may not be able to teach classes like her, but I know all the products she buys and sells by heart.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that. At least there is one good thing to look forward to.”

  “I agree.”

  “I mean, what with her death being so sudden, I’m surprised they didn’t open up a whole murder investigation.”

  Karen’s cheeks paled slightly. “M-Murder?”

  Bert put a hand up to her mouth, realizing she’d potentially said something wrong. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say anything offensive.”

  “It wasn’t offensive. The detective who talked to me simply said it was probably an accident, so I didn’t think that it could be murder.” She shrugged. “My sister knew a lot, but she wasn’t always the most careful person around.”

  “I see,” Bert noted, understanding the situation more fully now. As that thought settled in, she realized that Harry might have been on the right track all along. He was the professional, of course.

  “But, I guess it wouldn’t be so farfetched. I mean, my sister has made her fair share of enemies over the years,” Karen said, bringing Bert back around.

  “Enemies? Like who?”

  “Well, no one, in particular, that I can think of, but her ladder to success has included stepping on a few fingers. Ever since college, in fact, she’s been making people upset with one thing or another. Either she said something that offended them or won some sort of honor or award that another person felt entitled to.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know.”

  “I’ve always sort of worked in the background, which is fine with me. I don’t love customer relations. Susan always did. People seemed to either really love her or hate her.”

  Bert could see why.

  “I mean, she’s received nasty letters throughout the years. The classic bag full of dog poop on the porch. Someone even threw a homemade Molotov cocktail on our lawn.”

  “Sheesh. On your lawn?”

  “Well, I think it was meant for our window, but it didn’t go through.”

  “Did you guys call the police?”

  “We did, but it was a small town we were living in at the time. The cops never figured out who did it. They said it was likely some drunk teenager or out of towner.”

  “Wow.”

  “Heck, one time some random person even blamed Susan for them having a stroke. They threatened to sue, but nothing ever came of it because they didn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  Bert leaned on the bar, eager for answers now. “Can you remember who it was?”

  Karen scrunched up her nose and stared up toward the ceiling in thought. “No, I can’t, unfortunately. We never met them in person. We just sent our lawyer over to confront them and that seemed to scare them off.”

  Bert nodded. “I see.”

  “Do you think I should call that detective and ask if they’re going to look into it being a murder? I mean, what if they come after me next?”

  Bert hesitated, knowi
ng she might get in trouble if Harry found out what she’d been doing. However, Karen’s safety came first. “I would call him personally,” she advised her.

  “Thanks, Bert. I’m glad we could talk,” she said, raising her glass a little. “I’m feeling better than I have all weekend.”

  Chapter 10

  “A Molotov cocktail? You can’t be serious?” Carla exclaimed as the women walked down the road from The Burning brewery toward Pies and Pages. Bert had already explained the situation twice while they finished their meal, but Carla was still appalled that someone would dislike a woman enough to throw a flaming bottle of liquor at their house.

  “I know. It’s crazy right?” Bert agreed, still having a hard time believing it had happened herself.

  “Anyway, do you think whoever it is came back to kill her?”

  Bert shrugged as they reached the shop door and unlocked it. “Who knows? The police never found out who did it, or what for. I doubt it would help much in this investigation now,” she admitted.

  Stepping into the dark shop, Bert quickly walked behind the counter and flipped the switch to turn on all the lights. “I really should get curtains for the front display windows. I hate the idea of people watching us have our nightly slice of pie and coffee in here from the street.”

  “And we can’t even see them outside very well,” Carla added, indicating the reflected shop staring back at them from the glass. “I think I’ll have two slices tonight, by the way.”

  “Maybe three?” Bert pushed teasingly. As she had suspected, that dainty salad didn’t satisfy her friend. She could eat two whole plates of food like the one Bert had ordered and still be hungry for dessert. Yet, she never seemed to gain a whole lot of weight. She wasn’t skinny as a rail, but she looked healthy.

  Bert envied her. She had to work hard to keep the pounds off, which was one reason she’d been eager to try the power walking thing.

  Maybe Harry was right, though, and doing some gardening would be better exercise. She’d read somewhere that squatting near the ground and being able to get up and down was a sign of good health.