Pies & Peril

by Janel Gradowski

  "I need to pick up the eggs and butter we ordered," Elliot called out.

  Amy concentrated on breathing through her mouth as she listened to the delivery van start up and then pull away. There went the hiding place she had planned on darting to once it was safe to move.

  Her thighs ached from maintaining the crouch, but she was afraid to move. Sounds of activity continued to filter out of the screen door for another five minutes. There was a loud bang and Amy barely managed to stifle a squeal. Maxson's metal security door had been shut. Or at least that's what she hoped the sound was from. She inched toward the wall and peeked around the corner of the dumpster. The glint of white metal showed through the screen door's dark mesh. Amy counted to thirty and made a break for freedom and fresh air. Instead of risking going past the door, she scooted out from behind the dumpster the opposite direction from which she arrived. One more glance to make sure the security door was still shut. It was, so she took a deep breath and bolted for the back corner of the adjacent store. A pebble slipped into her sandal during the short journey. She hopped forward on one foot until she was sure she was out of sight if Kristi decided to open the door again to let the cool air escape from the bakery. The blocks of the wall were bordered with blobs of cement that scratched her palm while she steadied herself to remove the instrument of torture from under the arch of her foot. She checked to make sure her hand wasn't bleeding and tried to look innocent as she crossed the service road.

  A nice walk around the block in the beautiful residential neighborhood was in order. First, she needed to check for dumpster stains on her clothes. Then she needed a few peaceful minutes to stop hyperventilating. Elliot's cryptic statement about taking care of an unpleasant situation sure sounded sinister when taken out of context. Amy's breathing had slowed to a normal cadence when she got back to her car. During the trek around the block she had twisted her skirt all the way around. No stains to be seen. She sniffed. The trash stench hadn't accompanied her away from the dumpster. She was good to go on to what she had intended, chilling out with a latte. For the third time she crossed the service road behind the businesses. Both doors at Maxson's were still closed. None of the businesses had customer entrances in the back, so Amy took the meandering path along the riverbank in order to reach the front of Riverbend Coffee. The grass on each side of the walk was dull and taking on a brown tint, thanks to the hot weather and accompanied by infrequent rain. The dark roasted scent of coffee enveloped her as she turned onto the Main Street sidewalk and passed the front windows of the coffee shop. Caffeine nirvana ahoy! Amy pulled open the door to the cafe and inhaled. The aroma inside was even more intoxicating, mixed with the sugar and vanilla scent of fresh baked goods. Exactly what she needed after the stinky spying expedition.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was the middle of the afternoon and much quieter than during the morning and lunchtime rushes. Amy ordered a non-fat vanilla cardamom latte to-go, no pastry despite the sparkling, sugar-coated cinnamon twists stacked on a plate next to the register. She wanted the latte in a disposable cup so she could escape when the temptation got too strong. Sophie, the owner, bustled out of the kitchen, balancing a cake stand mounded with lemon bars covered in drifts of powdered sugar. In other words, squares of citrus-scented temptation.

  The barista slid the fragrant latte across the marble counter. Amy picked it up and raised it to Sophie, "Good afternoon. Everything looks and smells wonderful, as usual."

  "Thank you." Sophie grinned as she carefully positioned a glass dome over the stack of lemon bars. Her dark brown hair, neatly pulled into a high ponytail, gleamed in the light cast by the recessed lights in the ceiling that highlighted the glass cases full of baked goods. "Coming from you, that's quite a compliment. Why don't you find a seat, and I'll come and chat with you in a few minutes."

  "Sounds good."

  Amy glanced around the cafe. No sign of Kevin or Lucy. It would be nice to chat with someone and not worry about getting conked with a coffee mug whipped across the room by a paranoid adulterer. Elliot or Kristi didn't appear to be out and about, patrolling the sidewalks in search of her either. That was a good sign. Her information trolling expedition had apparently gone undetected. It was time to relax and enjoy her espresso treat. She settled onto a spongy upholstered chair sitting next to a tiny, dark wood table that's top was just big enough for a couple dessert plates and coffee mugs. There were tables of all different sizes and shapes, circles, rectangles, hexagons, scattered throughout the coffee shop. It made the space a bit eclectic, yet still elegant.

  "How are you doing?" Sophie asked as she plunked down into the chair on the other side of the table. "I can't imagine how traumatic it was for you to find Mandy Jo's body. I still have a hard time believing she's dead. Every morning I expect her to walk through the door."

  Amy took a fortifying sip of latte. "Yes, it was a surreal experience. It feels like a bad dream still. Was she a regular customer here?"

  "Mandy Jo came in every morning. Even when she wasn't working at the salon she stopped by for a caramel mocha."

  "I'd say that's a testament to how good your coffee is. You have quite an army of loyal customers already."

  "Aww, thanks, sweetie. She even came in a few times in the afternoon again right before she died, but it was because she was meeting with Elliot Maxson instead of craving another mocha fix."

  Whoa. Elliot had been hanging out with Mandy Jo? That was an unexpected tidbit of information.

  "Do you have any idea what they were meeting about?"

  Sophie shrugged. "No. They always sat in the back corner." She winked. "And I try not to eavesdrop on my customers."

  "Oh, gosh. I didn't mean to insinuate that you eavesdrop." Like I do. She tapped on the plastic lid of the coffee cup, a subtle form of fidgeting to relieve the discomfort over inadvertently insulting Sophie. "I was just wondering out loud."

  "I'm just messing with you." She patted the back of Amy's hand. "I've been wishing I had walked by their table a few times to find out what they were talking about. It all seems rather suspicious now that she was killed at a contest he sponsored. I guess this is what happens when you have a bookshelf full of mysteries, you try to figure out the murderer."

  Amy leaned back in her chair. "I know! It all started with Nancy Drew for me. I've always loved reading mysteries too, especially the culinary ones that have recipes in them."

  "Ooh, those are good. I love them, too." Sophie twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. "I had some highlights done at Elegance Salon yesterday, and I saw the donation box for Mandy Jo's memorial. Thalia said you thought of doing that."

  "Mandy Jo won the pie contest for five years in a row. That's an impressive accomplishment, especially since she couldn't even bake decent brownies from a mix when I first met her. I figured she should be remembered for the achievement."

  Sophie slid a $20 bill across the table. "Can you add this to the fund? I put my change in the box at the salon, but I'd like to do more since she was such a loyal customer."

  "Thank you."

  "I need to get back to work." She stood and smoothed the front of her mocha colored half apron. "Apricot scones will be ready to come out of the oven any minute."

  "Yum. I'll have to get one on my way out."

  Amy took a deep breath as Sophie walked away. There was a fruity scent drifting through the cafe that she hadn't detected when she walked in. So much for her vow not to get any baked goods. She could just break off one corner, to try it, and then leave the rest for Alex. That would be the logical thing to do, but she would most likely nibble on one corner, decide she needed another bite, and before she got home the plump scone would be reduced to a paper bag full of crumbs.

  She took a long drink of the latte. A healthy dose of caffeine would help clarify the confusing new information. What was Mandy Jo doing with Elliot? She could've decided to get even with Kevin by having her own affair. Although she was very pretty, and Elliot was more than a bit old for
her, so that seemed unlikely. There were younger, less-attached fish in the potential affair pond. Amy thumped the cardboard cup down on the table. A droplet of latte shot from the sip hole and landed on the back of her hand. What if it wasn't grandma's recipes that were helping Mandy Jo win the pie contests? Could she have been bribing Elliot to fix the contests in her favor?

  Amy poked around in her purse, searching for the notebook that Shepler had suggested she buy to keep track of ideas she had when she was eating out and wanted to try to recreate a recipe later. She pulled out the small, spiral bound notepad with a yellow smiley face on the front cover. Considering the information she needed to write down, one of the red, devil horned smileys would be more appropriate. She had dug up so much dirt on Mandy Jo her brain was beginning to feel like a sand storm of information was swirling inside. Time to write the stuff down before it spilled out of her ears when she went to bed, never to be thought of again. When there were too many things going on in life, her brain was like a leaky hourglass.

  She ripped out a couple pages that contained old shopping lists. A pen was easier to find. There was always at least one in the interior pockets of her favorite white leather purse. She clicked the plunger on the ballpoint pen and scribbled circles on one of the discarded pages to get the ink going. Pink. Not exactly the optimal color for writing a list of murder suspects.

  At the top of each page she wrote a name: Kevin, Lucy, Elliot and then a big question mark. Mandy Jo's killer and the person leaving the nasty notes could be someone, or even a couple someones, that she hadn't thought of yet. On each page she wrote down every motive she could think of for that person to knock off the Pie Queen and then threaten the heir apparent. When she had finished writing, her fingers ached from gripping the pen so tightly. And her latte was long gone. She tucked the notebook back into her purse. Somewhere among the scribbled words could be the prize, like the crater full of molten chocolate in the center of a lava cake—the real motive for why Mandy Jo was murdered.

  The fruity sweet scent of warm apricot scones had flirted with her for too long. She couldn't resist getting one, along with an iced coffee. A little internal cooling fluid to keep her from melting while she waited for Mimi the Mini's air conditioner to kick in. It wasn't as if she was sleeping like her normal, oblivious-to-the-apocalypse self lately anyway, so more caffeine wouldn't hurt a bit, she reasoned.

  Amy waved goodbye to Sophie and pushed open the door with her back, since both hands were full of newly acquired treats. The air outside was noticeably cooler than when she'd arrived at the coffee shop. The sunshine was gone. She looked up at the sky. Angry, gray storm clouds were jockeying for position, getting ready to release a doozy of a storm. She kicked it in high gear and trotted as fast as she could on 3-inch cork wedge sandals back to the Mini. A big, cold raindrop splatted on her forehead as she searched through her purse for her keys while trying not to drop the scone or the iced coffee. Two more giant drops had plopped into her hair before she found the fob and hit the unlock button. She swung the door open and slid into the driver's seat. No coffee spillage or scone fumbling yet. She plunked the clear plastic cup into the cup holder then tossed the bag and her purse onto the passenger seat. A flash of white caught her attention as she turned to pull the door shut. A stupid flier was pinned under her windshield wiper.

  She ducked out to grab the paper. The back of her head smacked the door frame as she once again retreated to Mimi's dry interior. That hurt! Stupid flier. She yanked the door shut and winged the pain-inflicting paper into the passenger seat. It was definitely time to get home and park Mimi in the safety of the garage. Sitting under an ancient, and most likely fragile, maple tree during a storm was a recipe for vehicular damage.

  The drive home made her feel like a submarine captain. The hot and dry day had turned into a visit to Water World. Her eyes throbbed from straining to see through the curtain of water washing over the windshield. The blurry image of her mailbox flanked with planter boxes filled with hot pink geranium flowers was a sight for literally sore eyes. She punched the button on the garage door opener clipped to the car's visor and pulled into the driveway. The roar of the rain pummeling the roof of the Mini faded as she inched into the safety of the garage. She hit the brake pedal when the tennis ball that hung from the ceiling bumped the windshield in front of her face. Alex had rigged the ball and clothesline doohickey to prevent her from pulling too far forward and crushing the trash cans that always sat in front of her car.

  She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn't even dinnertime, but she felt like the day had been 26 hours long already. Now she had a headache, stiff hands from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and she was tired. So much for the extra caffeine giving her extra energy. The garage door thumped shut behind her as she gathered her purse and the untouched treats. The ferocious storm had kept her so focused on the road she had forgotten about the yummy scone. Diet control provided by Mother Nature. The flier flipped over when she freed the scone bag from underneath it. The stupid thing deserved to be crumpled and burned for making her whack her head on the door frame. As she reached for the flier, the words printed on the white paper paralyzed her.

  Your just like Mandy Jo and now your going to end up like her.

  * * *

  Amy stood in the middle of the pantry and slowly turned in a complete circle. What had she been looking for? She zoned in on the shelves where the jars of spices and condiments were neatly lined up. Since she was trying to start cooking dinner, most likely she had wanted something savory instead of the canister of dark brown sugar. Death threats definitely messed with recipe preparation. Never mind cyber bullying. She was a victim of an epistolary bully with bad grammar.

  A jar of purple-hued kalamata olives caught her eye. That's what she had wanted. Olives…and capers. Fabulous little spheres of salty, tangy yumminess to make a simple, no-cook pasta sauce. A complicated gourmet entree wouldn't be happening for dinner. She was mentally incapable of following multiple recipe steps.

  She returned to the kitchen with a jar clutched in each hand. The doorbell bonged. Amy's heart jumped into her throat. The jars clattered onto the marble countertop. If the bell had rung thirty seconds earlier she would have been tiptoeing with bare feet through glass shards and purple olive brine on the floor. She turned to find a very damp Shepler peering at her through the window in the kitchen door. A crack of thunder propelled her to the door. Lightning broiled detective wasn't on the menu for the evening.

  "I'm so sorry you had to come out in the storm," she said as she swung the door open. The alarm keypad beeped. Oh yeah, turn off the alarm before opening the door to avoid temporary deafness. She punched in the code and continued as Shepler stepped inside. "I thought the note was a flier. It was starting to rain, and I just wanted to get home. So I threw the note on the seat. I didn't read it until I got home. If I'd have read it first I would've driven to the police station, and you wouldn't have had to come here in the monsoon."

  Shepler held up his hand. The universal signal to stop. Amy slammed the door and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Just a little wound up."

  "Not a problem. Can I see the note?"

  She pointed to the paper lying on the breakfast nook table. "I don't think the person sending them is very smart."

  He pulled a latex glove on one hand and picked up the note by a corner. "Why do you say that?"

  "Bad grammar. Again. They keep using the wrong version of you're. I hate that."

  Shepler raised an eyebrow as he slipped the note into a plastic bag he had pulled out of his pocket. "I would think you'd hate getting death threats even more."

  "Well…yeah. That sucks, too. Threatening to kill someone to win a cooking contest gives new meaning to cutthroat competition." She watched the detective peel off the glove and stuff it into his pants pocket. "Oh no. I didn't use gloves when I handled the note. What if I smeared the psycho's fingerprints?"

  He shook his head. "We haven't found any unidentifie
d prints on the other notes, just yours. So unless you're writing the notes, it's okay."

  No way. He was not accusing her of penning the illiterate notes, was he? "Why would someone make death threats to themselves? I promise you, I did not write those notes."

  He laughed. "People fake death threats and even physical attacks to frame other people. I've seen it happen before, but I believe you."

  "Oh, I didn't think about that. It's kind of like reverse blackmail. I would think pulling stuff like that would seriously compromise your karma."

  "Along with landing your bad karma in jail."

  Shepler had a nice sense of humor to go along with the hot body. No wonder Carla liked him so much. The water in the pasta pot on the stove gurgled, signaling it was ready for the spaghetti. As she crossed the room she asked, "Would you like some coffee or a chocolate chip cookie?"

  "No, I'm fine, thank you." He cleared his throat. "So do you have any other ideas about who is sending the notes?"

  Oh, baby. She had ideas. Pages full of them after spending the afternoon at the coffee shop. "Do you mind if I keep making dinner while we talk? Cooking helps me think better."

  "Go right ahead."

  Amy chose a large, sunshine yellow bowl from the open shelves under the kitchen island. "Thank you. It's been a long day. First I got the evil eye from Kevin and Lucy when they realized I had seen them getting cozy with each other at Louie's. Then I went to Riverbend Coffee to chill out, and I found out Mandy Jo had been meeting Elliot Maxson there the week before she was killed. And, of course, somebody left the note on my car when I was in the coffee shop."