You’ve never smelled heaven until you’ve stepped into a bakery on a pie baking competition day. The warm, cinnamon aroma of fall pies smacked us in the face when we opened the door to Bailey’s Bakery and Sweets. Mr. Bailey welcomed us in with a big, boisterous wave and a genuinely warm smile.
“Girls, girls, girls!” he boomed. “Welcome! You brought pies! Oh, that makes me so happy!”
Trepidatiously, Sweets held out her prized creation. “I hope you like it,” she said with a smile.
Mr. Bailey looked down at it and then promptly pulled his eyes away, covering them with a hand. “Don’t tell me what’s in it! I want to be surprised.”
Sweets giggled. “I just hope you like it. It was my grandmother’s recipe, but I tweaked it,” she whispered.
“Well, I’m sure it’s delicious! You can fill out an entry card over there, and the ladies at that table will help you enter it in the competition!” he told her, pointing towards a table with two women seated behind it wearing Bailey’s aprons.
“Thank you, Mr. Bailey!” Sweets said, walking past him towards the table.
“And what do we have here? Another entry?” he asked Jax and Holly as they followed behind Sweets with another pie.
Jax nodded excitedly. “We made a healthier version of the basic pumpkin pie. Plus we added a few secret ingredients to boost the vitamin count. It’s a low cal, no sugar alternative to those regular Thanksgiving desserts, and it’s going to be amazing.”
Mr. Bailey raised his big, white, out-of-control eyebrows. “I see,” he said somberly. “It sounds – really – um – good for you.”
Holly patted him on the shoulder as she walked towards the check-in table. “We have a whole lot of other ideas for healthy alternatives to your entire menu. We can talk when the competition is over,” she whispered loudly into his ear.
Alba and I couldn’t help but laugh at her confidence.
After the pies had been checked in, the five of us slid into a booth in the furthest corner of the bakery. The rest of the place was swarming with women. Everyone was excited to have their pie get tasted and critiqued by the panel of Aspen Falls City Council members that were going to make an appearance for the event.
Mr. Bailey took a spot behind his counter as he looked down at his watch. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and began. “First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for coming down here today. What a gorgeous day we get to have for this event. I’ve never seen such perfect Thanksgiving weather! I’d like to thank Doris Blackburn and Sylvia Stevens for helping out with our registration for today’s event. I’d also like to thank Angela Burns, Fred Haar, and Marlis Cromwell for judging. Can we all give these men and women a round of applause?” he asked, beginning the applause himself.
Everyone around us hooted and hollered for the judging staff. Slowly, the Witch Squad joined in. As the applause settled down, Mr. Bailey checked his watch one last time. “I would also like to thank everyone that participated in the contest and brought a pie down today. They smell so good!” he exclaimed. “I’m looking forward to taste-testing each and every one of them myself!” He rubbed his round belly excitedly causing the ladies in the crowd to roar with laughter.
Alba and I exchanged amused smiles.
“Now, for the rest of you, I’ve got samples of my Christmas Pear and Cranberry Cobbler for you to try while you wait for the judges to do their thing. Doris and Sylvia will be bringing around the samples. I am excited to announce that it is December’s treat of the month!”
The ladies around the room, including Sweets, gasped with excitement. Sweets tore her eyes away from Mr. Bailey to look at us. “Christmas Cobbler! Oh, girls, I just have to win this contest.”
“Good luck, Sweets,” I said to her. “I hope you win.”
Holly and Jax sucked in their breath. “Mercy! How can you pick Sweets over your own roommate?” Jax cried.
I wrinkled my nose. “Easy. I just picked her.”
“You haven’t even had a chance to taste our pie yet,” Holly said accusingly.
“I don’t need to taste it. Why do you girls think you’re a better baker than Sweets? Baking is her life.”
“Thank you, Mercy. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Sweets said, laying her head on my shoulder.
I looked down at her head with horror. With one hand I reached over and lifted her head off of my shoulder. “Just because I trust your baking doesn’t mean we need to be touching right now.”
“So, we haven’t had time to hear what you two did when you left,” Holly said, taking the small plastic cup and mini spork handed to her by Doris Blackburn. “Thanks,” she said to the woman.
“Enjoy,” Doris replied sweetly before continuing on to the table next to us with her samples.
Jax dug her spork into her Christmas Cobbler and took a bite. “What happened?” she asked through her mouthful.
“Well, we found Charlotte Maxwell’s address,” I admitted.
Alba looked down at her small plastic cup. I could tell hearing the story was painful. We’d both had high hopes that finding that house was going to find us Tony in some way.
“You did? How’d you do that?” Sweets asked, licking the back of her spork.
“Phone book,” I said with a chuckle.
“They still make those?” Holly asked. “I remember sitting on one at my grandma’s house when I was a kid. I don’t think I’ve ever used one for informational purposes, though. Where’d you find one? At an antique store?”
“We stopped at that old gas station just down the block from the waterfall in the center of town. They had one,” I explained. “We went to the address, but …”
“But the house was gone,” Alba finished, her voice croaking hoarsely.
“Gone? How was it gone?” Jax asked.
I shrugged and finished off my cobbler. “I have no idea. My GPS led us right to the address and said that our destination should be on our right. There was no house there.”
“There was a woman walking her dog that lived next door. She said she knew Charlotte, but that she moved out of town years ago,” Alba finished sadly.
Having a moment to sit and relax, I was able to let that information really sink in. “That just doesn’t make any sense. Detective Whitman stopped into the restaurant this morning to tell us that Charlotte was in town. He said that Arthur’s parents moved out of town, but that his grandmother was still in town.”
Alba nodded, “This is true. Someone there has got to know where that woman went.”
I looked out the window. The sun was past its highest point in the sky and beginning to fall. November in Pennsylvania would bring darkness quickly. “It’s already almost four o’clock,” I said. “If we don’t go knocking on doors over there soon, we aren’t going to get any closer to finding him today.”
Alba sighed, leaning back in the booth with defeat written on her face. “I was hoping we’d have him home in time for Thanksgiving.”
Voices buzzed around our table, but we were silent. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Sweets stood up. “Let’s go find Tony.”
“But the judging isn’t over,” Alba pointed out. “And the bakery closes at 5:00. There’s no way we’ll be back in time for the big announcement.”
Sweets waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s ok. Mr. Bailey will tell us who won next week. Finding Tony in time for Thanksgiving is what’s important.”
Holly and Jax both slid out of the booth.
“Sweets is right,” Jax agreed. “We’re here for you. Let’s go knock on some doors.”
Gratitude spread across Alba’s face, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked genuinely humbled. “I appreciate it. Thanks, girls,” she said quietly.
The five of us headed for the door. Mr. Bailey caught my arm before I’d made it out. “You’re all leaving? You don’t want to wait for the results?” he asked with surprise.
“We have something really important that we need to do. I don’t think
we’ll make it back in time for the announcement. But we’ll check back in with you next week or something.”
Mr. Bailey’s face dropped. “Oh, well, I’m so sorry you have to rush off. Give me your number, and I’ll call you with the results?”
I peered out the door anxiously. The rest of the girls were already running towards Sweets’ car. Holly turned around to see if I was following her. “Hurry up, Mercy, let’s go!” she hollered, motioning for me to come.
“I’m sorry, I have to go Mr. Bailey. Could you call my mother and let her know? She’s Linda Habernackle of Habernackle’s Bed, Breakfast, & Beyond,” I said as I was backing away.
Mr. Bailey’s face lit up. “Oh, Linda’s your mother? She walks Chesney past the bakery every day! Most certainly, I’ll let her know!”
“Thanks, Mr. Bailey, have a happy Thanksgiving!”
“You too, Mercy. Tell your friends, have a happy Thanksgiving!”
13
“So what do we say when we knock on doors?” Jax asked as we all piled out of Sweets’ car in front of the empty lot on Bluff Road.
“You just have to ask if they knew Charlotte Maxwell or if they knew what happened to the house,” I explained. “Hopefully someone will remember her. If you find someone that did know her, make sure to ask for a forwarding address.”
“Are we all going together?” Holly asked.
“I think we should split up into groups. You three go that way, Alba and I will go this way, we’ll meet back up in the middle. If you find out any information call and we’ll do the same. Ok?”
Sweets nodded her head. “Ok, good luck!”
Alba grabbed Sweets’ arm before they could leave. “Thanks. Really, I mean it. I appreciate you helping.”
I could tell that Sweets wanted to hug Alba, but she refrained. Instead, she gave her a quick nod and held a fist out to her. “You’re welcome, Alba.” Alba froze for a second, looking at Sweets’ fist. Finally, she reached her arm out and touched her fist to Sweets’, causing a big smile to spread across Sweets’ face.
The three of them headed in the opposite direction while Alba and I decided to start in the middle of the street and work our way up the block. Walking up the sidewalk to the first house, we knocked on the door. My stomach did flip flops as we waited. I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping that someone would come to the door and have the answers that we needed. The seconds ticked on, and no one came to the door.
“I don’t think anyone is home,” I told her, peering in through the little glass window in the middle of the door. “I don’t see anyone moving.”
“Let’s not waste any time. Let’s just move on to the next house,” she suggested.
We walked to the next house which was directly across the street from the empty lot. Alba rang the doorbell, causing a dog to bark and a small army of children to flood the doorway. A little boy in a diaper managed to pull open the door with a dog next to him barking like mad. Alba and I looked at each other nervously.
“Hello?” I began. “Is your mommy home?”
The little boy didn’t move, but seconds later a young woman rushed to the front door. “Tommy, what did I tell you? You’re not allowed to open the door,” she chided. Then she looked up at Alba and me. “I’m so sorry. May I help you?”
“We are looking for someone who used to live in this neighborhood,” I began.
Tommy turned to his mother and raised his arms up and began jumping up and down whimpering. The young woman picked up her son and threw him on her hip. “Ok, well, we’ve only lived here for the last six months,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, disappointed. “I suppose you don’t know Charlotte Maxwell then?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know any of the neighbors yet. I’m too busy with the kids.”
“Do you know what happened to the house across the street?” Alba asked, pointing to the empty lot.
The young woman gave us a sad expression. “I’m really sorry, no. I have no idea. It was an empty lot when we bought this house.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Ok, thank you. Sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s ok. Have a happy Thanksgiving,” she called out before shutting the door.
“Have a happy Thanksgiving,” Alba grumbled as she walked down the front steps next to me. “How am I supposed to ever have a happy Thanksgiving again without Tony?”
Lightly, I backhanded her. “Quit it. You’re being negative. We’re going to find Tony,” I told her gruffly.
We walked up the short sidewalk to the next house and rang the doorbell. This time a tall, slender man with a receding hairline answered the door. “May I help you?”
“We are looking for someone. We were hoping maybe you could help. Do you know Charlotte Maxwell?” I asked.
The man nodded. “Char? Yeah, I know Char.”
Alba’s face lit up as did mine. “You do?” Alba asked incredulously.
“Yeah, why?”
“When’s the last time you saw her?” I asked.
The man made a face. “I don’t know. Yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” Alba and I asked in unison.
“But – but – her house is gone,” I stuttered, pointing towards the empty lot.
“Well, her old house is gone,” he said. “It burned down in the fire about five years ago, but she just moved next door.”
“Next door?!” Alba asked.
“Yeah, right there,” he said and pointed to the house we had seen the old woman with the high-watered polyester pants going into earlier.
“That house?!” I hollered, pointing my finger across the street.
“Yeah, why? What’s going on?” he asked, befuddled.
Alba put her hand on mine, lowering my raised arm. “My friend is just anxious to find an old friend of the family. We thought she moved away.”
The man relaxed a little. “Oh. No, Char didn’t move. She’s been in this neighborhood for probably 40 years.”
“But her son moved?” I asked. My mind was reeling. That woman had lied to us. She was Charlotte Maxwell. That made me immediately wonder if she was hiding something after all.
“Mike? Yeah, Mike and Sharlene moved away awhile back. After they lost their son. I don’t know where they went. Char stayed, though. She said Aspen Falls is her home.”
“Did you know Arthur?” Alba asked.
“Not real well, but I saw him over at his grandmother’s frequently. Quiet boy. Sad deal.”
Alba and I hung our heads. “Yeah, very sad. I suppose that’s hard on her to live over there all alone,” I said, testing the waters.
The man nodded. “She’s a pretty vivacious old woman, though. She can take care of herself. Though, lately, I’ve seen another young man over there. I’m not sure if that’s a nephew or just a friend, or what, but it’s nice she gets visitors.”
Alba looked at me with excitement, but she worked hard to keep her tone even and steady so as not to raise any alarms. “Oh, sure. Tall guy, dark hair?”
“Yeah. I haven’t met him yet. I’m not really sure whose boy that would be. I think Char has a sister out in Buffalo. Might be one of her grandsons.”
“I see, well, we sure appreciate the help. We’ll go over there and pay her a visit then,” I said, making my way down the stairs.
The man nodded. “Anytime. Char will be happy to have a couple more visitors,” he said pleasantly.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Alba said to him cheerfully.
He waved. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
I linked arms with Alba as we walked away from the man’s house and trained our eyes on Charlotte Maxwell’s little bungalow across the street. “Now what do we do?” I whispered as I pulled her closer.
“We go get my husband!” she responded, her jaw set in a firm line.
“We just walk in there and ask for him back? You’re crazy! We told her yesterday who we were looking for and she didn’t say a word about having him. She could be a loon. Weren�
�t you just worried about her being like that crazy woman in the movie Misery? She could shoot us the minute we step inside!”
Alba pulled out her phone. “Should I call the girls back? Strength in numbers?”
I looked both ways and then stepped into the street. “No. We don’t want them in there. What if something happens to us?”
“We should at least let them know we’re going in then. They can call Whitman if something happens and we don’t come back out,” Alba suggested pulling her phone out of her back pocket.
“Are you kidding? If you tell them we’re going in, they’ll beg to come with. Then there are five of us dead instead of just two of us.”
“You really think this woman is going to be psycho?” Alba scoffed. “She seemed pretty harmless to me.”
“Harmless until she’s smashing your ankle with a sledgehammer,” I rebuffed.
“Well, that’s gruesome.”
“Yeah, exactly. What if she’s gruesome!”
“You spend too much time with Jax,” Alba growled. “You’re starting to sound like her.”
“I’m just being pragmatic. She could have Tony chained to the bed in there,” I said nervously gnawing on my bottom lip.
Alba stopped us at the bottom of the concrete steps in front of Charlotte’s house. “Pull it together. My husband is in there. I don’t want to think of him being chained to a bed with smashed ankles. You just got done telling me to quit being negative. Take a slice of your own advice pie, huh?”
I sighed and grudgingly followed her up the sidewalk. “What are we going to say?”
“I don’t know,” Alba growled. “I’ll think of something.” Finally, we were on her front porch. Alba reached a hand out and without a word, knocked on the window.
“Do you see anything?” I whispered.
“Shh,” Alba hissed, “she’s coming.”
The door opened, and Charlotte Maxwell stood in the doorway. “Hello again,” she said much more kindly that my over-active imagination thought she would.
“Hi,” Alba said. “Are you…”
Much to our surprise, the woman let out a deep breath and said, “Yes, I’m Char Maxwell. Come on in.”
Witch Pie: A Witch Squad Holiday Special (A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 8
