Pepperoni Pizza Can Be Murder

by Chris Cavender

  I had a blank sheet of paper under the clip, and a pen hung down from a string attached to the back. Maddy scrawled a few things on the paper, and then handed it back to me. “There, that’s perfect.”

  I saw that she’d headed the paper Petition for Neighborhood Watch and she’d even added a few signatures as well. Below hers, Maddy had scrawled three names: one looked like Abraham Lincoln, one appeared to be Jesse James, and the third could be interpreted as Kevin Hurley.

  I started to scratch out the police chief’s name when Maddy asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I doubt Kevin would appreciate us forging his signature.”

  She studied it a second, and then with a few slashes from her pen, it was hard to see what name was written there. “I think it’s a mistake, but I’ve made it more unrecognizable now.”

  “Thanks,” I said. My finger was poised over the doorbell when I asked, “Do you want to do the talking, or should I?”

  “It’s your idea,” she said. “You should get the fun of executing it.”

  “Okay, but feel free to step in anytime you’d like.”

  “You can count on it.”

  An older woman came to the door of the Cape Cod–style home, a pair of gardening gloves in her hands. Her hair was frosted white with time, and was cut short and stylish. She wore an old pair of blue jeans, but I could swear I saw a crease pressed into them. The last time I’d ironed my jeans was—now that I thought about it—never.

  “What can I do for you ladies?” she asked in a rich and cultured voice.

  “We’re here about crime,” I said. The woman looked perplexed until I added, “And how to stop it. Don’t you think neighbors should look out for each other in this uncertain day and age?”

  The woman frowned. “I could hardly refute that.” She studied us both, and then added, “I haven’t seen you around this street before. Where exactly is it that you live?”

  “We’ve both been in Timber Ridge all our lives,” Maddy said as she looked at the woman a little closer. “Why, you’re Mrs. Searing, aren’t you?”

  She frowned, and then a smile blossomed on her face. “Made-line, is that you? You’ve changed so much I hardly recognized you. You’re all grown-up.”

  Maddy moved closer, effectively shutting me out. “Except for your haircut, you haven’t changed at all.”

  “You’re a liar, but I love you for it,” Mrs. Searing said cheerily. She pointed to me, and said, “This is your sister, Eleanor, isn’t it?”

  “I am,” I admitted. How did Maddy know this woman, and I didn’t? My sister cleared up the mystery in a second. “Mrs. Searing taught fifth grade at the elementary school after you left for middle school.”

  “I needed two more years in the district before I could retire,” she explained to me, “and I always wanted to teach at that grade-school level, so I transferred in. Before that, I was at Edgewood, teaching high-school senior English.”

  “That must have been quite a transition for you,” I said.

  “Not as much as you might think,” she replied. “Teaching is teaching, and children are children.”

  I thought about adding, And clouds are clouds, doorknobs are doorknobs, and parfaits are parfaits, but I didn’t.

  “We’re here about what happened to the man next door,” Maddy said, abandoning the Neighborhood Watch front I’d been prepared to utilize.

  “It’s terrible,” Mrs. Searing said. “I must admit, I wasn’t all that fond of Wade, but to be bludgeoned to death must have been horrific. It happened at the local pizzeria, didn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Mine, to be exact. I own A Slice of Delight.”

  “Sorry, but I never learned to like pizza. I suppose that makes me un-American these days.”

  “We have other things on the menu, too,” I said.

  Maddy frowned at me. “Hey, Sis, take it easy. We’re not out drumming up business for the pizzeria,” she said to me, then turned to Mrs. Searing. “Do you have a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Certainly. I’m ready for a break, at any rate. I’ve been working in my greenhouse out back, and my stamina isn’t what it once was.”

  “I doubt that,” Maddy said. “Are you still walking every day?”

  “How sweet of you to remember,” Mrs. Searing said as she led us inside. The house was neat, clean, and clearly feminine. “Would either of you care for some coffee or perhaps some iced tea?”

  “Tea would be great,” I said.

  Maddy nodded her agreement, and soon enough we were sitting at the kitchen table like old friends, chatting away.

  After taking a drink of herbal tea, Mrs. Searing asked, “Now, why are you two attempting to do the police’s business?”

  She’d said it so sweetly, it took me a second to realize that there was a barb planted there.

  “We hate to see an injustice done,” I said. “And if we don’t act, an innocent man might go to jail.”

  Mrs. Searing seemed to ponder that for a few moments, then said, “You’ve certainly got my attention. Go on.”

  “My deliveryman at the Slice is Wade’s brother, Greg. Scratch that, he’s more than that. Greg Hatcher is our friend, and we don’t want to see him suffer because of a short-sighted investigation.”

  “I can respect that sentiment,” she said, then took another sip of tea. “What can I do, though?”

  Maddy asked, “Did you ever see anything odd going on over at Wade’s place? Especially in the past few days?”

  Mrs. Searing frowned slightly. “I’m not sure I should be telling tales out of school, as it were.”

  “We’re not looking for idle gossip,” Maddy said, “though if you have any of that after we’re finished, I’d love to hear it.”

  The older woman smiled at my sister, and I realized yet again how smooth Maddy was at getting people to root for her in whatever she did.

  “I’m sure you would.” She took another sip, then said, “There was quite a fuss over there last night, I’m afraid.”

  “We heard some of it,” I said.

  “I don’t approve of yelling, not in my classroom, and certainly not in my neighborhood. The family on the other side of me loves to converse in loud shouting conversations all day long. I wonder at times if they’re all deaf, the way they shout at each other.”

  “Back to Wade’s,” I said with a nudge.

  “Yes, I often get off-track these days. Yesterday evening, there was shouting on that side of my house as well, but there weren’t any pleasantries being exchanged. Wade’s brother was there, but he left rather abruptly, with a young woman dogging his heels. She had the most unflattering things to say to Wade as she left, and she wasn’t afraid who heard her.”

  “What did she look like?” I asked.

  “Let’s see, she was tall and a little on the curvy side, with a shock of the most amazing red hair I’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s Katy,” I said.

  “She looked nothing like the next girl who came by and yelled at Wade. I must say, he had a rather hard night before he died, with two separate women cursing at him within ten minutes of each other.”

  “Did you get a good look at the second girl?” Maddy asked.

  “I wasn’t snooping, but my goodness, they were raising enough commotion to get everyone’s attention on the block. I’d never seen the first young lady until yesterday, but the second is a fixture over there. She has blond hair, though I’m certain it isn’t the shade she was born with.” It was all I could do not to look at Maddy, since she fit that description herself, but I let it slide.

  “What else?”

  “She was rather petite, and she looked delicate somehow, at least until she slapped him, and then opened her mouth. I’ve heard sailors use better language.” Sandi Meadows came by the pizzeria now and then, and though I’d never heard her curse, the rest of the description fit her to a tee.

  “How many sailors do you know, Mrs. Searing?” Maddy asked with a grin.r />
  “You’d be surprised,” she said smugly.

  “Good for you.”

  “If I may,” I interrupted, “did you happen to hear what they were yelling about?”

  “It was difficult to miss,” the older woman said. “I won’t use her language, since I don’t speak like that, but the essence of her diatribe was focused on Wade’s shortcomings in his faithfulness to her.”

  “Anything threatening, specifically?” I asked.

  “She said she’d see him dead before he went out with that tramp, which I assumed at the time was a reference to the redhead. I must say, there was entirely too much excitement around here for my taste.”

  “It should quiet down some now,” I said, not meaning to be harsh.

  She nodded. “Fair enough. I stand corrected. I know it’s not acceptable to speak ill of the dead.”

  Maddy shot me a harsh look, then turned back to the former teacher. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

  Mrs. Searing took a final sip of her tea, then shook her head as she said, “Sorry, no. I’d love to chat, but those flowers aren’t going to transplant themselves.”

  Maddy hugged her as we all stood. “It was great seeing you again.”

  “As it was seeing you,” she said. Mrs. Searing put her hand out, and I shook it, not at all surprised by the strength of her grip.

  “Come again anytime.”

  After we were gone, I put the pen back in the clipboard. “I told you that would work.”

  We both started laughing as we walked to the Subaru.

  Maddy asked, “Is there any reason to talk to anyone else?”

  “I’d say we should talk to the rest of his neighbors. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

  It was not to be, though. The older man on the other side of Wade’s house hadn’t seen anything, heard anything, and didn’t want to get involved. No one else around was home, so the rest of our canvass turned out to be a wash.

  “So,” Maddy said, “where do we go from here?”

  “The main person I want to speak to now is Sandi Meadows. There’s a problem, though. I don’t know how to find her.”

  “Let me make a quick call. I might be able to help.”

  Maddy pulled out her cell phone, dialed a number by heart, and then turned away from me as she held a whispered conversation. As she talked, I looked around at the houses surrounding us. From all outward appearances, it was a quiet little block, one any family would be delighted to live in. But it had secrets of its own, and not just the shouting neighbors next door. One of their own had been murdered last night, though not at home, and it appeared that the rest of the world would go on as if nothing had happened. Everyone here seemed to be insulated in their own world. The more I thought about it, the more I decided that it wasn’t so much a neighborhood as it was a series of separate lives, barely touching each other. Soon enough, a FOR SALE sign would no doubt take its place in the yard, and someone else would move in. There was a continuity to it that gave me little hope, a feeling tinged with an underlying sadness that, for better or for worse, Wade Hatcher would be forgotten soon enough. I wondered if after I died if whoever bought my Craftsman-style bungalow would wonder about who had lived there before, or who might have painstakingly restored it to all its glory. My late husband, Joe, had once said that as long as the house we’d rehabbed together stood, a part of us both would remain alive in the world.

  But when there was no one left who remembered us, it would be as if we’d never been born at all.

  “Why so sad?” Maddy asked as she looked over at me after she’d finished her telephone conversation.

  I ignored her question, not because I didn’t want to answer it, but because I had no idea how to, without sounding so gloomy and introspective. “Did you have any luck tracking Sandi down?”

  Maddy nodded. “She works part-time at Plusters Fine Clothing, but she just took her lunch break, and odds are that she’s at Brian’s Grill. Funny thing, though. My source said she left the store with a guy. It didn’t take her long to replace Wade, did it?”

  “Who’s this source of yours?” I asked as we headed for my car.

  “If I told you that, I’d be breaking my word,” she said. “Just take it as the truth. Come on, we’d better hurry if we want to catch her.”

  I did as I was told, and drove quickly to the short-order grill that was on the outskirts of town. I wanted to size Miss Meadows up for myself, and I was dying to see who had replaced Wade so quickly in Sandi’s life.

  It was easy enough to spot her. I saw Sandi Meadows the second Maddy and I walked into Brian’s Grill. The café was a dive on the edge of town that had a much more eclectic customer base than I did, one of the reasons I envied its owner, Mark Deacon. The place had a plain concrete floor painted battleship gray, booths from the fifties covered with dull red vinyl, and a paint job on the walls that had last been spruced up sometime two decades ago. Mark had inherited the place from his dad, the original Brian, who’d been quite a local character in Timber Ridge. Mark had gotten a full scholarship to the University of North Carolina, graduated with a degree in chemical engineering, then came back home to take over the grill when his father died suddenly. Many folks thought he was wasting a great deal of talent and ability, but Mark had to be the happiest man I’d ever known, and that had to count for something. Mark was a great guy who had a thirst for knowledge that was strong and constantly being fed by his love of books.

  The owner himself greeted me near the door. “Come to scout out the competition?” he asked me with a grin.

  I looked around and smiled. “There’s no competition here.”

  “You got that right.”

  I tapped the book in his hand and saw that one finger was marking his place. “What are you reading these days?”

  He held it up for me to see: The Impact of Social and Economic Derivatives of Postmodern Imperialism.

  “Well, it looked interesting when I checked it out,” he said with a smile.

  “I can’t imagine how,” I laughed.

  “You know me—I like a little of this, a little of that.” He marked his place with a sheet from an order pad, and then put the book aside. “What brings you to the grill?” Then he must have realized the only reason Maddy and I wouldn’t be at the pizzeria. “That’s a pretty stupid question, isn’t it? Sorry about what happened last night.”

  “Thanks.” What more could I say to that? “It’s tough, for a lot of reasons.”

  “Any idea when the police will release your place?”

  I shrugged. “I’m hoping I’ll be able to open back up tomorrow.”

  Mark nodded. “So, in the meantime, you decided to grace my place with your presence. I’m honored, ladies.”

  “You should be,” Maddy said.

  Mark took Maddy’s hand in his, and, I swear, he kissed it.

  She reddened with a slight blush that I hadn’t seen in many years, though my sister didn’t protest his attention.

  “Maddy, you get lovelier every time I see you.”

  “It defies nature, doesn’t it?” she replied.

  “If you two don’t mind, I’m going to find us a table,” I said as I shook my head.

  They both laughed at me. They were clearly sharing an inside joke that I wasn’t privy to, but I hadn’t come to Brian’s to have my ego stroked. It was a good thing, too, since there was none of that coming in my direction.

  Mark said, “Take any booth that’s free. I’ll send somebody over in a second to take your order.”

  As Maddy and I moved toward an empty table beside Sandi and her lunch companion—a young man I recognized as Jamie Lowder—I asked Maddy, “What was that all about?”

  “Mark and I like to joke around,” she said. “It’s nothing more than that.”

  “Come on, I saw the way you blushed. It’s something.”

  She waved a hand in the air, dismissing my comment. “Let’s forget about the past and focus on the task at
hand, shall we?”

  I nodded, vowing to bring it up again later. I wasn’t about to let my sister get away with anything, especially given the way she liked to tease me mercilessly with much less ammunition.

  I pretended to spot Sandi Meadows as we walked by her table. Putting on an air of sympathy, I said, “Sandi, you’re so brave being seen out in public like this so soon after what happened.”

  We were closer to her now, and I could see that she’d been crying recently. At least she was showing some emotion, for whatever it was worth. I added a little softer, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she dabbed at her cheeks.

  “Don’t worry about Sandi. She’s a champ. She’s going to be fine,” Jamie said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” I answered. “Still, it has to be difficult losing your boyfriend in such dire circumstances.”

  “They weren’t dating anymore,” Jamie said, with an edge to his voice that I hadn’t expected. “The two of them broke up weeks ago.”

  Maddy said, “Gosh, Jamie. I didn’t realize you were her spokes-person. Does the job pay anything, or do you do it for free?”

  Leave it to Maddy to poke a stick into the hornet’s nest.

  Jamie snapped, “She’s my friend. It’s my right to protect her.”

  “And a fine job you’re doing,” Maddy said. “Since you’re so gallant, we have a few heavy cases in the back of our car. Would you mind bringing them into the diner for us? It would mean a free pizza for you later.”

  Jamie was notoriously cheap, and at the offer of free food, he quickly abandoned his post. “Sure, I can do that.” Before he got up, he looked at Sandi and asked, “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can manage,” she said.

  Maddy winked at me, grabbed my car keys, and then Jamie followed her out of the grill. I had three minutes to ask questions without Jamie interfering, and I planned to take full advantage of it. Sometimes my sister was absolutely brilliant. There were no cases in the back of my car to be unloaded, and I was sure that Maddy would express her surprise and disappointment when she discovered she’d “forgotten” them back at the pizzeria.