Bert wanted to give the girl credit for trying, but it was clear her previous attitude and entitlement were firmly intact—but just when she assumed people weren’t paying attention.
Sighing, Bert shook her head and looked down at the arrangement of pies with slices cut out of them. She’d served a whole lot of customers already who were looking for a tasty holiday treat to accompany their shopping. In fact, this was the first tiny lull she’d had where someone wasn’t sitting at one of the stools requesting a slice. She was worried that she hadn’t made enough and made a mental note to bring even more pies the next day.
“One slice of the Maple Nut Pie please,” a gruff yet familiar voice requested.
Glancing up, Bert was delighted to see her boyfriend, Detective Harry Mannor, sitting at the stool closest to her. His salt and pepper gray hair was combed back, and his mustache brushed out, an indication that he’d groomed himself just to come see Bert. Of course, he wore his regular tan trench coat over his white button-up—with no tie this time.
Even in the summer heat, he never changed up his outfit. Bert liked to think that it was the idea of a chilly Christmas, where they could cuddle up in front of the fire together, that cooled him down enough to wear that coat.
“Harry,” she exclaimed with a sigh of relief, leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d stop by and visit you at your big event.”
Somehow, she got the feeling there might be something more to his presence, but she didn’t push it. “Maple Nut you said?” motioning to the pie.
“Righto, my lady,” he joked.
Bert cut an extra-large slice and set it on a paper plate, handing it to him with a plastic fork.
“Thanks,” he said, producing a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you pay for pie?” she pressed. Almost a year back he had saved her life when she accidentally got mixed up with a killer. Since then, she’d promised him a free slice of pie each time he came into the shop.
On top of that, they’d begun dating, which made it even easier to dote on him with desserts. If Bert had a love language, it was food. That’s how she showed her appreciation.
“Hey, I gotta support my girlfriend and her best friend, don’t I?”
“It’s still weird that we use the terms girlfriend and boyfriend, don’t you think?” she asked.
“You know, one of the lieutenants said the same thing this morning at the office. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t know. I guess with us being in our sixties, girlfriend and boyfriend just sound kind of childish.”
Stabbing his pie and taking a bite, the detective smiled. “I don’t have a problem with it.”
“I guess not,” she said with a playful shake of her head. She wasn’t much for flirting or public affection, especially at her age, but Harry was growing on her with each passing week. He was clumsy, brash, rude, and rough around the edges—but somehow all of that had grown into something quite charming.
When he wanted to be, he was a real sweetheart.
Bert leaned in on the counter, her eyes moving over to the workshop again and the line of little kids all waiting to talk to Santa. It was probably a real treat for them to be out shopping with mom and dad over summer break, but even better to see Santa so early in the year.
There were smiles all around the room. If it weren’t for the summer clothing, Bert felt it would look exactly like a Christmas time shopping spree. A sense of warm fuzzies rose in her chest.
Her gaze fell on the elf again, the one who was supposed to be escorting children to and from Santa’s chair. At that exact moment, she was rolling her eyes as some parent asked her a question.
Bert sighed.
“Mmm. This tastes divine,” Harry complimented her, looking up from the already half-empty plate. He managed to catch Bert’s disappointed glare shooting across the store toward Santa’s Workshop. “Something wrong?” he asked, noticing the strain in her face.
“It’s nothing,” she said, still unsure of whether she should tell Carla about Samara’s boyfriend in the back room. She’d made a deal with the girl, but she wasn’t so sure the young woman was holding up her end of the bargain.
Despite his bulky build and slight gut (the pies weren’t helping in that department), Harry managed to turn and look over his shoulder at the scene behind him. “Something to do with that elf you guys got there?” he asked.
Bert wrinkled up her nose at him. “Always the detective, aren’t you?”
“It’s my job.” He pointed his fork at her as he turned his attention back to the pie.
“Oh, I just caught that elf with her boyfriend in the stockroom this morning.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell Carla?”
“No, that’s just it. I made a deal with the girl that I wouldn’t tell if she was willing to put on a smile and do a good job today.”
“Having trouble with that one?”
“A little, yeah.”
He looked back again. “Doesn’t look like she’s keeping up her end of the bargain.”
“I suppose not.”
“And you really should never make deals with teenagers.”
“She’s twenty-one.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope. Anyway, the other girl seems nice.”
“Got that right. She welcomed me in. A real sweetheart, that one.” He polished off the last bite of pie and handed Bert back the plate which went in the trash. “I think you need to tell Carla what you saw. She needs to know what her employees are up to. You don’t know if that boy has a criminal record or anything.”
“Why do you jump to that conclusion?”
“No specific reason, but shop’s typically screen their employees and I think Carla should know there was a stranger she hadn’t approved of in her back room. You never know who is going to get it into their head to steal something, or worse.”
“Worse?” Bert questioned, wondering what other kind of illegal activity a young man could possibly get into in the stockroom of a Christmas store. She shrugged.
“Anyway, you should tell her.”
Bert slumped her shoulders, feeling bad for going back on a deal with Samara. On the other hand, the girl wasn’t exactly keeping up her promise. “I guess you’re right.”
“Right about what?” Carla asked, sliding down from the register at the far end of the counter once there was a lull in the line of customers looking to buy ornaments and trinkets of the season.
“It’s nothing,” Bert lied.
Harry narrowed a guilt-inducing gaze at her. Bert was never much a one for guilt or shame, but this time she felt it acutely.
“Well, actually, there is something.”
Carla’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s that?”
Bert glanced at Harry, then across the room at Samara.
“Oh, no. What did she do now?”
Bert swallowed. Carla was an even more sensible and modest woman than herself, so she had to word this politely as possible. “I found Samara in the back room this morning . . . kissing her boyfriend.”
Carla’s look of question melted into one of shock. A flush came to her cheeks and her features hardened in anger. “Excuse me, please.” She walked around the large counter and marched over toward Santa’s Workshop.
“Oh, no. What’s she going to do?” Bert whispered.
“Sorry kids, I have to take Santa’s elf for a minute. There is a kink in one of the toy making machines,” she announced with a smile, motioning for Samara to follow her. A glance at Santa asked if he’d be okay on his own and he gave her a thumbs up and a smile.
Within the next second, Carla and Samara had disappeared into the stockroom. Despite the cheerful Christmas music playing over the intercom and the bustle of excited voices in the store, Bert could still just hear her friend’s raised voice from the back room.
She was just grateful that she couldn’t make out any words. It meant that the customers couldn’t either. Luckily, no one seemed to notice or pay much attention. Many of the customers in line had likely already witnessed the young woman’s poor attitude and were none too surprised by a reprimand by the boss.
Still, Bert felt uncomfortable with the situation, even if Samara deserved it.
CHAPTER 5
“What did you say to her?” Bert couldn’t help asking Carla later that night as they were closing. She worked on stacking the used-up pie tins together and tying up the trash bag full of paper plates and plastic forks. She’d ended up getting cleaned out of pie by four in the afternoon and had to run back to the shop to grab a few more to last the evening hours.
“Well, I gave her one more chance, if that’s what you’re asking,” Carla informed her friend.
“I guessed that much, seeing as she came back on the floor after you tore into her.”
“I didn’t tear into her,” Carla defended.
Bert gave her friend a knowing look.
“Okay, okay, I told her what for. I said one more mess up and I’d fire her and let her parents know what happened.”
Bert shook her head. “You’d think she’d know better, seeing as she’s an adult and all.”
As if in stark contrast to the shop owner’s complaint, Heebee waltzed out of the stockroom in her normal street clothes as if walking on air. “I’m just leaving, Mrs. Carla. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you, dear,” she beamed in return. “And you can just call me Carla.”
The girl’s smile widened. “Okay, Mrs. Carla. I mean Carla. I had fun today.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear.”
“I’ll be here on time tomorrow. Promise,” she said, waving and heading for the door.
“How old is she, anyway?” Bert asked, lifting the garbage bag out of the can. It was light, thanks to the paper contents.
“Heebee? She’s only eighteen.”
Bert laughed. “Well, I guess you can’t account much for age, can you?”
Carla took on a sheepish smile. “I guess not, no.”
“Doesn’t matter what age you are, people are human. You’re gonna get gems and stinkers in every batch.”
* * *
Once they were all done cleaning up and closing everything out for the night, Bert said her goodbyes and headed outside while Carla headed upstairs to her apartment. Walking down the street to where she’d parked her car—partially out of the way so customers could have the street spots right in front of the shop—Bert dug her keys from her purse.
As she stood at her door, she heard a noise from the alley behind Christmas in July. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the blonde young man from earlier at the store’s backdoor which stood slightly ajar. Samara was standing there still dressed in her elf outfit.
What the heck was she doing? Wasn’t she supposed to be gone already? Did Carla know she was still there?
Heebee had already changed out of her costume and headed home nearly a half-hour prior at that point. Could it be that the young woman was so distracted by her phone that she still hadn’t gotten ready to go?
Or was her boyfriend just late picking her up?
“What are you doing?” Bert heard him complain. “Why aren’t you ready to go, already?”
So, he was there to pick her up. That was good.
“Fine, fine. Just let me change.” She went to close the door.
“Hey! Do I have to stand out here in this creepy alleyway?”
“There aren’t drug dealers in the alley, you dope.” Sighing, she rolled her eyes at him again.
Bert wondered if they’d get stuck in the back of her head doing that.
Nope, Bert didn’t like that one bit. She pulled out her phone to call her friend.
CHAPTER 6
Carla didn’t answer her phone and Bert wondered if she were in the bathroom or something. She left a message on her friend’s voicemail to just double check the stockroom when she got a chance to make sure the young couple had really left. It had sounded like Samara and her boyfriend were going to head out soon anyway, but if not, Carla would find them for sure after getting the message.
Bert wasn’t too seriously concerned. She figured they’d be gone soon, and the backdoor on the shop was always locked from the inside.
Heading back to her own shop, she went to her upstairs apartment, and soaked in the bathtub with a peppermint candy cane scented bath bomb and a glass of mulled wine before falling into bed to get some rest for the next day of the Christmas in July sale.
Rising the next morning at the early hour of four a.m., Bert got right to work baking up a whole slew of pies for the day. At five, Shiv came in, four hours earlier than normal, to help Bert in the process of getting things ready for the day.
Just like the day before, Bert loaded up the car and headed to Carla’s shop. This time, she found the front door open. “Good morning,” she called into the shop as she stepped past the threshold.
A grunting noise came from the other end of the shop and Bert furrowed her brow, walking in that direction. As she came into view of the stockroom door, she witnessed her best friend pressing her shoulder up against it.
“What’s going on?” Bert asked.
“Oh, morning, Bert,” Carla noted, shoving herself against the door again.
“What’s wrong?” Bert asked stepping up beside her.
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to get this door open. It’s like someone stacked something against it.”
Bert’s mouth turned into an O shape.
“What?” Carla asked.
“Did you get the message I left you last night?”
“You left me a message?” Carla dug into her jeans pocket and produced her phone. “Oh, darn, I had it on silent again.”
“I saw Samara at the backdoor last night with her boyfriend. They were getting ready to leave as far as I could tell, but maybe they stayed behind?” she suggested with a timid shrug, feeling bad for not having taken more initiative the night before.
Carla’s featured tightened in frustration. “I should have guessed. That girl is nothing but trouble.”
“Do you think they pushed something against the door?”
“Probably just to spite me. After all, I threatened her job yesterday. Maybe this is just petty payback.”
Bert sighed, realizing her friend was right. “I should have just come back in and told you in person that I saw them.”
“No, no, this isn’t your fault,” Carla comforted her, pushing her shoulder up against the door again. “This is Samara’s doing, for sure.”
“I guess,” Bert agreed, setting her purse down next to her friend’s on the counter and going to help push on the door.
“Well, even if you’d come back, the front door would have been locked and you would have had to call me to come let you in. Obviously, I didn’t have my phone.”
Suddenly, Bert had an idea. “Do you have a key to the alley door?” Bert asked.
Carla rolled her eyes and pretended to slap herself on the forehead. “Duh, why didn’t I think of that first? Come on.” However, before the women could grab their purses and head out the front, Panther walked in the front door, already dressed in his Santa outfit, belly and all.
Bert didn’t know how he could stand all that padding in the hot day outside.
“Morning,” Carla called to him with a wave.
“Morning. I knocked on the backdoor and no one opened it.” He shifted his duffle bag on his shoulder. “I was hoping to put this away before I started for the day.”
Carla and Bert looked at each other knowingly. “Someone pushed something up against the door here. As far as we know, no one is in there,” Carla said, pointing at the stockroom.
“You can’t get in?”
“Not this way,” Carla informed him.
“Let me help,” he offered, rolling back the sleeves on his red suit
to reveal surprisingly tan, and muscular arms. Bert guessed he had to lift weights every day to maintain a physique like that at his age. He had mentioned going to the rec center every day after work.
“Oh, I was just going to unlock the backdoor,” Carla said picking up her purse to indicate she had the keys.
“No need,” he smirked with that familiar twinkle in his eye, taking the purse from her and setting it back down on the counter next to Bert’s. Leaning up against the door, he took a heaving breath and pushed. His face turned slightly red as the door began to move and the scrape of something against the floor indicated whatever was blocking the entrance was being moved aside. After one more push, the door was open. “Ta-da,” he announced proudly.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Carla praised him, walking into the back room.
As soon as she did, she paused in her tracks. Her body went rigid and Bert could tell something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” Bert insisted, rushing to the door behind her friend. Panther looked over their heads into the room.
One of the large present boxes sat in the middle of the stockroom floor, the lid off and leaning against the side. Sticking straight up out of the box was a pair of legs—little green curled elf shoes on the feet.
“Move back, ladies. Don’t look,” Panther insisted, pushing his way in and peeking inside the box.
“W-Who is it?” Carla asked in a trembling voice.
He leaned up from the horrific view inside. “It’s Samara. I think she's dead.”
CHAPTER 7
Detective Mannor and a full team of crime scene investigators were at the store in moments. Bert couldn’t help but feel as if there were far more men and women than usual. Carla and Bert were quickly pushed aside, shoved into a corner near the front door for the moment until more order over the scene was under control.
Bert recognized that Carla looked paler than ever and her eyes were gray with weariness. Bert knew that feeling. While the two women had both participated in helping bring other murderers behind bars in the past, Carla had never had a body turn up in her very own shop.
Maple Nut Murder Page 3
