Pies & Peril

by Janel Gradowski

  Shepler raised the five finger stop sign again. "Let's take this one thing at a time. Start with seeing Kevin and Lucy together."

  She recounted her day as she prepared the simple pasta sauce. Whacking the olives with the side of her knife blade, to release the pits, turned out to be very therapeutic as she talked about the double nasty glares she had gotten from the not-so-clandestine lovers. Twisting a handful of parsley leaves off the stems was a satisfying task as she spouted her theories about why Elliot was sneaking around with Mandy Jo.

  Amy retrieved a log of salami from the refrigerator. As she sliced it into matchsticks she reported how Elliot had asked her to get him one of Mandy Jo's prize-winning recipes to make at the bakery to help fund the memorial bench. If he had also asked Mandy Jo for some of her recipes, so he could profit from them, she may have refused to give them up. He could have killed her out of spite. Retaliation for not cooperating with Elliot's money-making scheme would explain why she was now getting death threats. Shepler jotted down a few things in his own notebook as she finally got around to the suspect idea she had on the question mark page in her notes.

  "Of course, I may be trying to cook filet mignon with a microwave and be completely wrong on everything."

  "That's true." Shepler stood up. "Until we find solid evidence or get a confession, I have to follow every lead."

  Elliot's comment about getting out of an unpleasant situation could be a lead, too. Amy decided not to mention that interesting nugget of information. Shepler definitely wouldn't approve of her method for obtaining it. "I hope you're the law enforcement equivalent of a blood hound. I'm getting tired of these distracting threats."

  Amy noticed Shepler staring at the clear glass cookie jar on the island, filled with chocolate chip cookies. She pulled a plastic bag out of the drawer and began filling it with cookies. It wasn't like she and Alex needed that many. Besides, if Shepler was the human equivalent of a blood hound, it wouldn't hurt to provide some treats as added incentive.

  Alex.

  She hadn't called him yet to let him know she had received another note. Arriving home to find an unmarked police car in the driveway would send him to unhappy-camper-land. She sealed the bag and tossed it at Shepler. "Excuse me, I need to call my husband and let him know I got another threat. I forgot to do that until now."

  "Good idea," Shepler mumbled as he took a bite of one of the newly acquired cookies.

  Of course, her cell phone was lost in the tangle of junk in her purse. A black blob in her peripheral vision stopped her mid-search. Too late. Alex's Jeep stopped in front of the garage. Within seconds he was at the door, punching in his security code. He burst into the kitchen. "What happened? Are you okay?"

  Amy stepped forward. The tortured look on Alex's face made her heart twist into a knot. "I'm fine. I got another note, but I've been so frazzled I completely forgot to call you."

  "I'm your husband. How could you forget to call me?"

  "I…I don't know. I thought the note was a sales flier left on my windshield. First I fried my next to last nerve driving home in that awful storm. Then I went to throw out the flier when I was in the garage and realized it was a note. First thing I did was call Detective Shepler. I've been talking to him for awhile and before that I was just trying to find all of the pieces of my brain that blew up when I read the note."

  Alex wrapped her in a damp, suffocating hug. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you. My heart almost stopped when I saw the police car in the driveway."

  She rested her head against his chest. "I didn't mean to scare you. I guess there are only so many things I can think of at one time. Somehow calling you got shoved aside."

  He hugged her even tighter and kissed the top of her head. "Okay, but please try to remember me if anything happens in the future. Call me, even if you see somebody who makes you nervous walking by on the sidewalk. I'm here for you. I love you."

  Tears tickled the corners of her eyes. "I love you, too."

  Shepler cleared his throat. Poof. The honey sweet moment dribbled away. He held up the almost empty bag of cookies. "Thank you for the snack. I'm working late tonight. I'll have the lab process the note and let you know if we find any fingerprints or other clues."

  "Thank you for coming so quickly," Amy said as she wriggled out of Alex's arms.

  As the detective passed by on the way to the door Amy noticed a splotch of red skin on his neck. He could've nicked himself shaving, but it looked more like a hickey. At least a few people were having fun while she was being tortured by a mysterious, grammatically challenged villain. She glanced at Alex, who reached out and grabbed her hand. Well, maybe Carla wasn't the only one who would be enjoying herself now.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The electronic squawk of Alex's clock sounded like the mating call of a cyborg sea gull. Not really the best way to start off the morning considering how little sleep both of them got. Mercifully her husband shut off the alarm and then wrapped his muscled arms around her again. Waking up with him au naturel, instead of in his usual pajama pants and T-shirt, helped counteract the pain of waking up way too early. Amy shivered as he kissed the extra-sensitive spot on her neck behind her ear.

  "I'm not very busy at work right now. Why don't we head up to Traverse City for a few days? We can hit some wineries, lie out on the beach, wander around the shops downtown…just rest and relax for a few days."

  Amy extracted her legs from the tangle of sheets entrapping them and rolled over to face him. "I still can't leave because I'm still part of a murder investigation."

  Deep wrinkles formed on his forehead when he frowned. "I thought only suspects couldn't leave when they're under investigation. The police have established that you couldn't have done it, especially since you're now being threatened. Did you check with Shepler? Did he say you couldn't leave town now?"

  "Well, no, not exactly. I've never asked him, I just assumed I couldn't."

  He kissed her forehead. Then the tip of her nose. The kiss that landed on her lips took her breath away. She sighed so hard it felt like a vacuum cleaner had sucked all the air out of her lungs.

  "Please ask him about it," he said as his hand slid down her back onto her bum. "I doubt whoever is sending the threats will follow us north, so I think it's the safest thing to do right now. My main priority is keeping you out of the grasp of the lunatic."

  Alex's hands and lips were making it difficult to think. All of the heat he was creating fogged up her brain. Somewhere in the mist bobbed the thought that running away was the cowardly thing to do, even though a romantic getaway with her hubby would be an ambrosial delight at any other time.

  "The person sending the notes to me isn't very smart. The grammar is atrocious. I doubt the same person was intelligent enough to pull off killing Mandy Jo and not get caught within ten minutes. I think someone else is capitalizing on the murder and trying to scare me away from competing in the pie contest next month. They're just hollow threats, but you know very well I don't intimidate easily." Okay, so she freaked out a bit when Kevin and Lucy caught onto her at Louie's, but either one of them could be the real killer instead of the illiterate terrorist trying to win themselves a trophy by playing dirty. "Besides, don't you want Mandy Jo's killer to be found? She wasn't the sweetest apple in the bushel, but we both knew her."

  Alex sighed into the hair on the top of her head, leaving a warm, humid patch behind. "Mandy Jo deserves justice, and her killer should be behind bars. You just told me you think a different person is behind the notes to you, so what does you staying in town have to do with solving the murder?"

  "There is a male detective in charge of the case who probably can't even properly cook a frozen pizza."

  "What do Shepler's culinary skills have to do with his crime solving abilities?"

  Her turn to sigh again. Men. Sometimes they just didn't get it. "Mandy Jo was murdered at a cooking contest, something I am highly familiar with. I can spot suspicious things that could seem normal to him. H
e's been very interested in my theories."

  "Or he's pretending to be interested because he's polite. Let the trained, gun-carrying professionals flush out the murderers and wackos. It isn't your job."

  Ouch. Nothing like killing the romantic mood a little bit more with a big dollop of common sense sprinkled with a reality check. Her husband said on a regular basis that he didn't understand her, but he loved her anyway. This was just another one of those instances when their opinions differed. She nuzzled her face into Alex's chest. Upping the cuddle factor could steer the conversation back onto more pleasant roads.

  "Can we talk about something else? This conversation is a bit depressing for this early in the morning." She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand behind Alex. "How about I make you a nice breakfast before you head to work?"

  Alex rolled on to his back. A huge, mischievous grin spread across his face. "I have a better idea. Why don't we take a shower together and then head to The Breakfast Spot? I don't have any appointments until this afternoon, so we can have a leisurely breakfast."

  She flipped the sheets into the air and climbed on top of him as they settled. "Sounds wonderful, but I think you need to add a quickie onto your morning agenda."

  * * *

  The road was packed with cars driven by impatient commuters as Amy and Alex slowly made their way to The Breakfast Spot. It had been years since she had to be at work at 8 a.m., and she didn't miss wading through the potential demolition derby one bit. She still got up early but was able to wander around in her pajamas and let Alex use the master bathroom in peace without doing the tooth brushing tango with her. The huge shower stall with over a dozen jets and two shower heads had been nice as they both tried to get ready and on their way to the diner. The scrub-a-dub-dub for two was like the dusting of powdered sugar on an epic night of dessert.

  Finally Alex put on his blinker and pulled into the turning lane to extract them from the bumper to bumper line of cars creeping out of the suburbs heading toward the freeway. Their destination was in a strip mall where none of the other businesses would be open at 8 a.m. Amy gasped as Alex turned into the parking lot. Several police cars and a fire engine with lights flashing were parked in front of the restaurant. The usually crowded section of parking lot near the local hangout was empty.

  "Oh no. I wonder what happened."

  Alex stopped the car beside one of the police cruisers. Amy rolled down her window to get a better view. A big, handwritten sign was taped to the restaurant window—Closed Because Of Fire.

  "I don't see any signs of fire or water damage. Maybe it was just a small fire that was contained in the kitchen," Alex said as he leaned forward to peer around Amy.

  "Look, there's Bea." Amy stuck her arm out the window and waved. Inside the restaurant, Bea waved back as she wound her way through the maze of tables and chairs, motioning for Amy to come in. "I think she wants to talk to me."

  The locks on the car door clicked open. Alex said, "I'm going to park and check emails on my phone. Go see what's going on. I'm here if you need anything."

  Amy held her breath as she walked through the door Bea held open, expecting to be bombarded with the smell of smoke. When she finally took a breath, buttery biscuits and sage sausage were the only scents she could detect.

  "Oh, Bea. A fire! What happened?" she asked as she looked around the empty dining room that should have been packed with hungry people.

  "The fire was in the alley. Some kid being stupid, I reckon." Bea grabbed a couple heavy, chocolate colored mugs off a stack near the beverage station. She filled both with coffee and gestured at a table. "Have a seat. I've been talking with firemen and police officers all morning. I need a break."

  The metal legs of the chair screeched as Amy slid it across the speckled tile floor. She sat then reached across the table to put her hand on top of Bea's. "Was anybody hurt?"

  "No, but I think the scare took about ten years off my life." Bea frowned as she ripped open a sugar packet and dumped it into her mug. Her spiked hair was even more spiky than usual, like she had run her fingers through it hundreds of times. "I was already stressed from running behind on prep work because Elliot stopped in to pester me about supplying our baked goods again. I had just gotten rid of him when I heard a big bang in the alley. Thank goodness I had enough sense to check the security camera we have hooked up back there before opening the door. Some idiot had pulled a bunch of trash bags from the dumpster, piled them against the door and set them on fire with a Molotov cocktail."

  Amy took a sip of coffee, and tried to untangle the flock of thoughts swirling in her mind. "So it was arson? How horrible. I can't believe anybody would do that." Actually, she could believe somebody would do that. Elliot had been meeting Mandy Jo about something and a few days later she wound up dead. "Was there a lot of damage?"

  "I'll have to replace the security door, but that was about it for damage other than some charred bricks on the outside of the building. We should be back open tomorrow." She picked up her coffee mug and gestured toward the kitchen. "Luckily Thomas pulled into the alley right after the explosion. He had a fire extinguisher in his truck. I had grabbed one from inside but had to go out the front door and around the end of the strip mall to get to the alley. Between the two of us we got it pretty well out before the fire department even arrived."

  "Thank goodness you two do well in stressful situations."

  Bea chuckled. "Feeding hungry hordes six days a week has been good training. There isn't much that can ruffle either of us."

  "You said Thomas was driving up the alley right after the fire was set. Did he see anybody?"

  "No, it was still dark. He stopped to put out the fire and the person was quick enough to get out of the range of his headlights. It's too bad. He could've chased the trouble-maker down with his truck, if he had seen them. At least the security camera got the punk on tape."

  Amy took a long drink of coffee. She needed some energy because her brain was lagging behind in the conversation. "How could the camera pick anything up in the dark?"

  "Night vision mode. We've had a bit of trouble in the past with people causing problems in the alley. So we got the fancy security system that automatically switches to night mode when it's dark." Bea got up. She brought the coffee pot back to the table and set it on the metal napkin holder. A makeshift trivet. "Not that seeing the person did any good. Had the hood on a sweatshirt pulled up and a bandana across their face. Can't see a damn thing other than eyes."

  Amy refilled her mug and topped off Bea's cup. A thought had been banging around in her brain, and there was no easy way to bring it up. Might as well put on her mental rubber gloves and dive into the sink full of dirty dishes. "You said Elliot was here right before the fire started. Do you think he could've lit it in retaliation for refusing to use his bakery as a supplier?"

  "I've known Elliot for over 10 years. The slicked back hair may make him look like a mafia kingpin, but he's more like a squirrely used car salesman with a big vocabulary than mob enforcer. He is a shrewd businessman. He's been trying to drum up business for his bakery and is smart enough to realize the harm committing arson would do. My guess is it was a bored, albeit stupid, kid or even some kind of gang initiation. I'm sure it wasn't Elliot."

  That deflated her incriminating theory. Bea was a straight shooter who didn't believe in social dance routines. If she was sure Elliot wasn't the arsonist then there was a 98% chance he wasn't. Amy pulled a packet of sugar out of the small bin on the table. While she enjoyed black coffee there was only so much she could drink before she started craving a sweeter version. As she ripped the top off the paper pouch, inspiration struck. Hallelujah for the magical thinking powers of coffee. "You just said he was shrewd. Do you think he's ruthless, or desperate, enough to have hired a kid to do his dirty work? He could've had the guy waiting in the alley, ready to pounce at his word if you refused his proposition again."

  Bea frowned. "I don't kn
ow. That seems pretty far-fetched. I suppose people can do crazy things when they're backed into a corner, especially where money is concerned, but trying to burn down a business as payback seems too extreme for Elliot. He was obviously angry when he left but has never insinuated that he would get back at me for not accepting his offer."

  The restaurant owner's confidence in Elliot's innocence seemed to have wavered a bit. She was positive he hadn't thrown the flaming bottle of gasoline, but seemingly not so sure that he hadn't hired someone to do the dirty work instead. Interesting. Perhaps the pillar of the local business community did have a dark side.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "I can't believe somebody did that to Bea and Thomas. They're so nice…"

  Carla glanced at Amy. Her friend's story about the morning excitement was getting slower and breathier, with frequent pauses. How long had it been since Amy had worked out? The only reason she had come to the gym was because Carla had promised they could hang out in the sauna after they exercised.

  The fire at The Breakfast Spot really was atrocious. If the restaurant didn't have the security camera, Bea could've opened the back door to see what caused the unexpected sound and been severely burned along with letting the flames inside the building. The incident was very close to being a tragedy. Amy had suggested that Bruce look into the fire, just in case Elliot was involved, but she was still rightfully upset about the attack on one of her friends. At least the elliptical machine should help diminish some of the stress and anxiety. That was another excuse Carla had used to lure her friend into the land of weights and, as Amy called them, maniacal machines.