KILLER CHRISTMAS PIE (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 5)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  It was a modern teenagers dream, to be sure.

  Bert couldn’t help but smile as she watched multiple older shoppers looking around with bewilderment as they tried to decide what to get for the “teen” in their life. She could hardly imagine the tall and manly detective trying to pick some cute shirt or toy for his niece. It was a funny thought.

  “Welcome to Gothic Gala. Can I help you today?”

  A young woman wearing a nametag that said Bridget, seemingly in her late teens or early twenties, greeted Bert from behind the checkout counter as she stepped past the threshold. She had jet black hair with a streak of hot pink running through it. Pink eyeshadow with black mascara complemented the look.

  She was currently stacking little bottles of red and black nail polish in a cardboard display box.

  “Actually, yes. I’m looking for Villa. Is she still in here?”

  “Are you a friend of her uncle?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Awesome. Villa is actually my best friend.”

  “So, I’ve been told,” Bert responded, putting on her biggest smile. Looking over the young woman’s dark pencil skirt and frilly white blouse, Bert had to admit, while she wouldn’t wear it herself, this whole Victorian Gothic style was growing on her.

  “I was hoping she could help me pick something out for one of my employees. In fact, she’s about the same age as you.”

  “You know, I’m more than happy to help you find something if you like.”

  “No, no. That’s quite alright. I’d prefer to get Villa’s opinion first. No offense.” Bert waved her hands nervously, feeling awkward as she did. The next thing she knew, she’d bumped the young woman’s arm and a bottle of nail polish went tumbling to the floor.

  The small glass container made a shattering noise behind the counter. “Oh, shoot,” Bridget exclaimed.

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Argh, it’s getting in the drawers.”

  Bert bolted around behind the counter to help and saw that the cashier was right. Some of the polish had splattered up onto the shelves and drawers tucked away behind the counter for returns and other items. “Let me help. It looks like some is dripping into that one.”

  “No, no. It’s okay. It’s my fault for losing my grip.” She had some paper towels in hand from a roll that was on one of the shelves and was wiping up the sticky liquid from the black face of the bottommost drawer.

  “You’ll probably have to open that one to get inside.”

  “I can’t. Only the manager has keys to that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, please step out from behind the counter. I could get in even more trouble if my manager saw you back here.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Bert squeaked, shuffling back out and away. “Aren’t there any other employees?”

  “Two are on break and the other is helping a customer on the sales floor.”

  Bert sighed, feeling more awkward and awful than before.

  “There, good as new,” she said, dumping the broken glass and stained towels in the garbage can. “I’ll have to take that out, so the chemical smell doesn’t bother anyone.” Looking back up at Bert, she gave a warming smile as if to say it was all okay. “So, you were looking for Villa.”

  “She is here?”

  “You’re in luck, actually. She’s just back in our changing room trying on a new dress.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll just go back there and wait for her,” Bert said, wanting to just be out of the poor girl’s hair once and for all.

  “It’s just down that skinny hallway and behind the first door. The second door leads to our break and stock rooms.”

  “Got it,” Bert winked, walking around the large checkout counter in the center of the store. Heading down the hall as instructed. Finding the first door, with the very blatant sign that said Changing Room, Bert knocked. “Villa, it’s Bert. Your uncle’s friend from earlier. Are you in there?”

  Bert waited for a second but received no response. She knew the teen might be a little shy, so she tried to play it as calm and even as possible. “Your uncle said that maybe you could help me pick something out for a friend of mine. He said you have great taste.”

  Again no one responded.

  This time, Bert got a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. Maybe she had left and her best friend at the front of the shop hadn’t noticed?

  “Villa, are you in there?” she called again. Worse scenarios started popping into her head. What if she fell and hit her head or something else like that? She knocked again, harder. “Villa?”

  The impact of her fist on the door caused it to budge open slightly. It wasn’t locked.

  Pushing the door further open, Bert let out a startled gasp stumbling back against the wall behind her.

  Sitting on the bench against the wall was the young teenager boy from earlier, the one that Villa had said was her ex-boyfriend.

  He lay there with his mouth hanging open and some large red slashes in his chest.

  He appeared to be dead.

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  “Bridget, where is Villa?” Detective Mannor insisted, placing his palms on the service counter, splaying his fingers. He was breathing heavily, and a line of sweat was building up along his hairline.

  “I-I swear, she was back there earlier,” the store clerk admitted, taking a step back from the distressed gentleman. Her face drooped in concern as she glanced from him, to Bert, and back again.

  Bert had told her not to let another single person back into the dressing room under any circumstances whatsoever. After which, she ran out of the shop to grab the detective.

  Now, as they stood before her, Bridget was starting to catch on that something was wrong. “D-did something happen?” she asked with a quiver in her voice.

  “Go and grab a security guard.”

  “Well, there was one in here just a few moments ago.”

  “Listen to me. Find a security guard. Tell him to guard the door to the shop so that no one leaves.” Despite his own apparent fear for his niece, he had slipped seamlessly into his official detective mode, taking complete charge of the situation.

  “What?” Bridget exclaimed.

  “Bridget, just do as I say, please,” he insisted.

  “Okay,” she whispered, running from the shop.

  “Everyone, listen up,” Detective Mannor called out, his booming voice commanding the presence of the room.

  The talking mostly died down, all except for a few whispers between confused customers.

  Holding up his badge, which he had stored in his coat pocket, he showed them his identification. “My name is Detective Mannor. I need you all to gather near the front of the shop, but do not leave.”

  “Wait a minute. What’s going on?” one lady complained.

  “You can’t just hold us here,” a man argued.

  “Please, listen carefully. A crime has been committed here, and we need you all to stay put until we get things figured out.”

  The rising volume of protests was fast and rampant. There was frustration and even a little fear among the patrons.

  At that same moment, Bridget walked in with one of the security guards—a different one from earlier.

  “Ah, thank goodness. Bert, while I get this store under check, call nine-one-one and report this incident so I can get a full team down here, ASAP,” he instructed her before walking over to the man in the mall uniform and explaining the situation.

  Bert did just as she was told and stepped aside near the big glass display window to make the call. She gave the dispatcher specifics and even mentioned that there was a detective from the department on the scene.

  All the while, Carla stood just outside the shop peering in, desperately attempting to get Bert, or anyone else for that matter, to fill her in on the drama that was going down. However, thanks to the help of the security guard, no one was going in or going out.

  Detective Ma
nnor took measures to block off the hallway to the dressing room and break room using some left-over decorative Halloween tape he found in the clearance bin in place of real police tape. Once that was all done up, he stepped past the guard and outside, approaching Carla.

  Bert could just overhear their conversation, despite the constant complaint of the crowd all around her, shoved in like sardines at the front of the small store.

  “I have to stay here and handle this, and I don’t have anyone else I can ask at the moment,” he was telling her. “I need you to take a look around the mall for my niece. If you find her, bring her back here at once.”

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to tell me what’s happening?”

  “Not yet, just help me out and do as I say, please.”

  Carla let her shoulder’s slump, unhappy to not be included in the loop, but willing to help nonetheless. “Alright. Will do, Detective. Does she have a cell phone?”

  He nodded. “And here’s her number,” he replied, holding out a scrap piece of paper which he’d scribbled some info down on. “Call her and see if she picks up. If not, just look around in all the shops.”

  “On it.”

  Bert already knew how bad this situation might look for Mannor’s niece. She’d just been confronted by the possessive ex-boyfriend earlier that morning in front of a crowd. Additionally, Bridget saw Villa head back into the dressing room and hadn’t seen her leave. That was to be expected with the constant crowds of shoppers filtering in and out. The young teenager could have easily slipped out.

  However, that didn’t help the circumstantial evidence that seemed to indicate that the niece had slashed her own ex-boyfriend—but with what? Where would she have gotten something to stab him with? Based on the size of the cuts, Bert highly doubted it was some small pocket knife that could easily be concealed in a pocket or a purse.

  Shaking her head, she knew this just wasn’t looking great.

  Suddenly, the entrance to the food court across the way burst open and a whole slew of officers in uniform came marching in. Leading the brigade was a man in plain clothes, but still wearing a badge on the front of his jacket.

  His dark brown hair was combed neatly to one side, and his clean-shaven face revealed a hard line for a jaw. His blue eyes flared with official business and command.

  Bert could only guess that he was another detective or a commanding officer from the precinct. She had to admit, they’d made excellent time getting there, but that could only be expected.

  Upon spotting the group headed their way, Mannor quickly pushed out to greet them. “Gentleman, I’m glad to see you.”

  “Mannor,” the younger man demanded loudly.

  “Detective Trainor, we have a homicide on our hands.” He waved, indicating the group to follow him inside.

  Without a beat of hesitation, the younger detective grabbed a hold of Mannor’s sleeve. “Now, hold on there.”

  “We don’t have time for this, Trainor. We have to hop on this case now.”

  Trainor shook his head, keeping his lips tight. “Mannor, were you in here when the body was found?”

  “No, Bertha Hannah found the body and she came and got me because she is aware of my standing as a police detective.”

  “In Culver’s Hood, Mannor, not here.”

  “What?”

  “Remember, you’re out of your jurisdiction. We’re on my side of the river, buddy.” The way he used the pet name, buddy, came off as extremely condescending.

  Detective Mannor was quiet for a second, his mouth hanging open in shock. “Are you serious? I was the first responder on the scene.”

  “And I’ll be glad to receive your report, as such. However, as of this moment, you are no longer needed.”

  “Come on, Trainor. You know I’ve solved more cases than years you’ve been on the force.”

  “Maybe that’s true, but like I said. This is my side of the river. Now get out before I have one of my men escort you out.”

  “You don’t even want my opinion? I’ve already seen the body.”

  People were starting to go pale, some of the women wringing their hands, as the realization that a murder had occurred settled in among the crowd.

  Trainor, seeing the beginnings of an uproar, barred his teeth. “I’ll be glad to read your written report, but for now, this is my scene.”

  Mannor tried to protest again but was ignored as the younger man stepped right past and into the shop, holding up his own badge. “Attention, everyone. I’m going to need you all to please step outside of the shop and into the food court.”

  Many sighs of relief filled the air as people shuffled for the door.

  “I realize that standing around like sardines in a can is hardly comfortable, so I’m letting you sit just outside. Grab a coffee, get a bite to eat, whatever you need to keep you comfortable for a few hours. However, don’t go far. I will need to talk each of you, either myself or one of my men will interview you before you can go for the day. Is that understood?”

  A round of nods and yeses were given in response.

  “Now, one last thing. Who is it that found the body?”

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  “Okay, tell me exactly what went down,” the young detective asked, sitting Bert down in a chair in the corner of the shop while he pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket to start taking notes. He’d told her to wait around for just a few minutes while he properly secured the crime scene. (He’d made some disparaging remark about how unprofessional it was to use novelty tape to cordon off an official homicide scene, saying it loud enough for Mannor to hear.)

  The whole time, Detective Mannor stood outside the shop, fuming like a bull breathing steam and pacing the floor so quickly that Bert wondered if he might just wear a hole in the floor.

  It only took a few minutes for Trainor to get everything in order, and then he sat down with Bert.

  “I came in looking for Villa.”

  “Your daughter?”

  She shook her head. “Hardly. It’s Detective Mannor’s niece.”

  The man’s eyes widened with curiosity and then irritation. “Oh? Are you and the detective. . .”

  “No, no, no,” she exclaimed, practically shouting, as she waved her hands in front of herself like a nervous schoolgirl. It was an odd sensation after all these years living without romance of any kind—not that any single interaction between her and Harry could be considered romantic. In fact, if anything, it was just downright awkward.

  Why did he have to ask her out on a date anyway? She was content to live the rest of her life as a single widow, running her pie and bookshop in peace. Carla was enough family for her.

  “Okay, then why were you looking for his niece?”

  “You see, we just randomly ran into him and Villa today. The detective wanted me and my friend’s help in finding a gift for his niece.”

  “Your friend?”

  “Carla.”

  “Was she with you when you found the body?”

  “No, it was just me. She and Detective Mannor were both in the food court when I came in to look for Villa at the detective’s request.”

  “You keep calling him detective, and yet you were spending time together shopping? Are you sure you don’t have a closer relationship? Friends, maybe?”

  Bert twisted her lips to one side and grumbled. “Okay, you see, I’ve been a witness in a few other murder cases.”

  Nodding his understanding, he continued with the more important questions. “Did you find the niece when you came in?”

  “No. Bridget, the cashier, told me she was in the dressing room. I went back there and knocked on the door, but no one answered. I knocked again and realized the door was unlocked, so I opened it. That’s when I found the body.”

  The detective jotted down a few notes. “Okay, very good. And did you do anything to the body or the room?”

  “No, of course not. That would be tampering with evidence.”

 
“Good girl,” he winked. It kind of made Bert sick to her stomach.

  “Anyway, she was nowhere around when I came in, as far as I know. She must have slipped out.”

  “Do you know the victim?” he asked next.

  She shook her head. “Not personally. However, he was bothering a security guard and Villa today. He made a scene both times.”

  “Are you saying the victim knows Villa, Detective Mannor’s niece?”

  “I was told they used to date.”

  “Very interesting,” he mused, jotting down more notes. “All the more reason for him to not be involved in this case,” he said under his breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry?” the detective said, playing dumb.

  “I thought I heard you say something, possibly about Detective Mannor.” Despite all her insistence that there was nothing between her and the detective, that they weren’t even really friends, she felt an inherent urge to defend him.

  The young officer sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing he was caught—an expression that made him seem even younger and more immature than before. How had he made it all the way up the ranks to the role of a homicide detective?

  “Lady, I was simply saying that it is a good thing that Detective Mannor just stay as uninvolved with the investigation process of this case as possible.”

  “Oh?”

  “He should know better than any officer that he isn’t the right man for the job. Number one, this is not his area of jurisdiction. We are in the City of Rockbill, Iowa. He is a homicide detective for the City of Culver’s Hood, Nebraska. Therefore, the case can’t legally fall to him and he knows it.”

  “Then why did he jump on it the way he did?”

  “He was just being a good citizen, in that case, using his skills to keep things under wraps for us until we could arrive and take over. I think he just got a little excited it all.”

  “I see.”

  “Even if he was a member of the division of state police, crossing the river means he no longer has any say here. Second and more important, when a conflict of interest arises, such as the possible involvement of a family member in a homicide, then a different detective should always be assigned to the case.”