by Agatha Ball
"Oh," I said. "That's Tim. He owns the bait shop."
"AH!" she replied. "So nice that you help each other out. Small town living, huh?"
But in my mind, I started thinking about how Tim had been the first person on the scene when Granny had fallen. He was the one who knew we weren't in the shop. Had he gone up to Granny's room and taken her book? And now he was running Wanda's store?
But before I could ask her any more questions, Nate came running in, breathless.
"Paige," he said. "It's an emergency. Johnny needs you."
I turned to the two customers. "I have to go." We shooed them out. I hated that we were basically sending business to Yvette's café when I had sworn to Granny I would hold down the fort, but I hoped she'd understand that it was for Johnny. I ripped my apron off over my head and dashed towards the door, locking it behind me. Nate grabbed my hand and we ran to the beach.
Johnny was sitting there, cradling Linda's limp body in his arms and moaning low. I ran up to him and threw my arms around him, wrapping him up so that he knew he would be safe. Stan and Fred were running along the top of the cliff, trying to figure out how to get down to the beach.
"Oh, Paige, she's dead. I know she's dead..." he said.
I took Linda's pulse. "She isn't dead," I replied, but I had some suspicions about what was going on.
Officers Stan and Fred were on the sandy shores, rolling out their Police Line tape and shooing back the tourists.
"Linda," replied, Johnny, burying his face into her shoulder. "I think I loved her, Paige."
"You broke up with her," I said, the sentence falling out of my mouth before I realized how callous it sounded. "I mean, I know that you had feelings for her, Johnny, but—"
"Maybe if I hadn't broken up with her," he sniffled. "Maybe then she wouldn't have gone off and gotten murdered."
"Whoa! Whoa. Whoa," said Nate, kneeling down beside him. "You did nothing that 'got her murdered.' She's still alive. The EMTs will be here any minute."
"She said she wanted to have a picnic to talk things out and wanted to meet me here. But when I got here, she was like this."
Stan came walking over, hitching up his pants. "Yep. Most definitely attempted murder." He held up a knife covered in red. "Look familiar, Paige?"
"A knife covered in cherry syrup?"
He looked at it. "Oh. Well. I hadn't tested it yet. It being evidence and all." He squinted at Linda. "Are you sure she hasn't been stabbed?"
"No. No, she hasn't been stabbed." It took a few moments for the cogs in my brain to engage, but they did. "Stan?" I asked. "What were the contents in Georgia's stomach?"
"You mean aside from the poisoned cinnamon rolls your grandmother brought over?" he replied as he stared intently at the knife, still trying to figure out whether it was blood or jelly.
"Stan, I need you to answer me honestly. Was there any cherry pie in there? Grenadine? Anything cherry flavored?"
"Cherry flavoring! Now what crazy—" he stopped himself. "As a matter of fact, I don't know."
"Don't you see!" I practically shouted at him.
"Don't I see what?"
"Georgia was killed by an overdose of horse tranquilizers which caused her heart to stop. Granny was also poisoned with horse tranquilizers."
Stan squinted at me. "What does that have to do with cherry pie?"
"When I discovered Granny, there were fingerprints. Red fingerprints left there by cherry syrup, but they were on the wall. She also had red fingerprints on her shirt, like someone touched the back of her shirt or... pushed her."
"But why would that have anything to do with Georgia?"
"I was over at Georgia's trailer," I said.
"Doing what?" he challenged, folding his arms and glaring at me.
"I just went over there to see if there were any clues. A raccoon startled me, though, so I decided to leave." I left out the part that I only had decided to leave after I had searched Georgia's place. "In the garbage was a napkin stained by what looked like cherry juice."
"Sooo..." said Stan, trying to follow my trail, "you think the same person who killed Georgia tried to kill your Granny?"
"Yes."
"And this Shirley Temple Pieman tried to kill Linda the same way?"
I pointed at the knife covered in cherry filling that he was holding in his hand. "I think so," I said.
"Shirley Temple Pieman," chuckled Stan to himself. He slapped his thigh in delight. "I just thought that up myself. Because of the grenadine! And the cherry pie!" He recovered and then screwed his face into a serious look. "No. This is an obvious case of some junkie OD-ing. She probably spiked herself with mushrooms and angel dust and heroin and whatever else it is kids are doing these days."
Johnny began moaning again and rocking Linda's body back and forth.
"Stan, you can't be serious," I said. "Linda is not a junkie."
"Look who she's hanging out with," he replied, pointing at Johnny with disgust.
"Seriously, man," Johnny said to Stan. "All I did was come down here for a picnic, which she set up and I found her here."
"Nope," said Stan, shaking his head. "This has absolutely nothing to do with any of the other stuff going on. Your Granny had a motive. She had all those books and she never paid Georgia. And I must say, from what I've read, there's some preeeettty saucy stuff in there, if I do say so myself."
"Could I get a copy?" I asked.
"No can do. Official police evidence," he replied.
"Not even if it might be able to help us crack this case?"
"Listen here, missy. If anyone is going to crack this case, it is going to be Fred and me. And you know why? Because we're the law around these parts. Not you. Not your little friends here. Fred and me. And if there's foul play, we'll get to the bottom of it. I guarantee. We shall leave no pie tin unturned."
"Just..." I breathed deep. "Could you just check with the coroner? Just ask about the contents of Georgia's stomach?"
Stan was not buying it. "Seems pretty far-fetched."
Officer Fred suddenly interrupted us. He called out as he struggled across the sand. "Hey, Stan! I may have some evidence!" He dropped the wicker picnic basket next to Stan and fell to his knees in exhaustion. He wiped his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve. "It was over by the rocks. Looks like she was setting up a lunch or something." He flipped open the top. Sitting there at the bottom of the basket was a cherry pie. A small slice had been removed. "Should I take it over to the precinct to 'test' it? Maybe with a cup of coffee?" Fred asked, his eyes lighting up.
"NO!" Johnny, Nate, and I shouted in horror.
"What's up with them?" Fred asked, a little miffed.
"There's a cherry pie in her basket and she ate a slice and now she is passed out," I said, spelling out the evidence for Stan.
"This proves nothing!" Stan denied.
"Okay," I said, trying to talk him down. "You have the pie. Just... test it. Would you please just test it before the two of you eat it?"
Stan muttered something under his breath at me, but I think I may have gotten through to him.
We were interrupted by the EMTs running out to where we were with a stretcher. The person in front was Tim from the bait shop, who was supposedly running Wanda's store today. Why was he always the first one on scene?
As the other EMT took her vitals, Tim came over to talk to Johnny, but he paused first and asked me, "Are you okay?" he asked. "This seems awfully familiar."
"Another poisoning," I said, trying to shake off my ridiculous suspicions. "Just like Granny. Who could be doing this?"
He shook his head and gave a low whistle. "Another one?"
"It looks like," confirmed Nate.
"Just not right that your family has been in the center of all this recent trouble, Paige. Last month, Jake and that murder. Now, this." Tim rested his hand on my arm. "You take care of yourself." He turned to Johnny and said, "And we'll take good care of this little lady. I need to ask you a couple questions about
how she was when you found her."
"Should I come with you in the ambulance?" Johnny asked.
"Did you know her?"
"She was my girlfriend," replied Johnny. "We just broke up yesterday."
Tim nodded in understanding. "It would be great to have you along."
He and the other EMT moved Linda's body onto the stretcher and as they carried her off, I heard Johnny ask, "So, can I turn on the siren?"
As we stood there watching them go, Stan remarked, "I'm still thinking it was your Granny."
"She's not even here!" I pointed out. "She's in a hospital! Under medical supervision! After being poisoned herself!"
"Details," said Stan. He waved at Fred to move out, and they slowly plodded their way across the sand, leaving Nate and me in horror and shock.
"Don't you dare eat a single piece of pie until we get to the bottom of this," I warned.
"You have yourself a deal," he replied.
As we began to walk back towards Bitter Beans, I happened to glance up at the top of the bluff. Doyle was standing there, just watching us. As soon as he caught me watching him, he flicked his cigarette onto the beach and walked away.
It made me wonder what all he had seen.
Chapter Seventeen
Granny called that afternoon. I was back at Bitter Beans, but time seemed to be at a standstill as I waited to hear from either her or Johnny. Halfway through the first ring, I flew off my stool and picked it up.
"Hello?" I said into the receiver, hopeful that the news was good but panicked that it might not be.
"Good news!" Granny said into the phone.
Good news was good. "Yes?" I asked.
"They're letting me check out of this fleabag motel," she replied. "Doc says I've got the ticker of a 30-year-old. I asked him out on a date so I could show him."
"GRANNY!" I exclaimed, mock scandalized.
"He's a cutie!" she replied. "And he said yes. So, I'm going to hang out here another night and be in tomorrow."
I sat down on my stool hard. "Wait. Really?" I said. "You were poisoned, landed yourself in the hospital, and you ended up with a date?"
"Gotta seize the bull by the horns, Paige! No time to waste time! Seems like a much better catch than what I could find on one of those dating sites on that internet that everyone is going on about."
"Well... congratulations...?" I offered. I guess the nice thing was that having her date a doctor meant he could take her vitals if something went wrong.
"It's just a date, Paige. We're not getting married. I swear to goodness, you kids. You act like every boy you meet needs to be the one. It's dinner!"
I smiled. Granny was a force of nature. "Stay away from the bacon grease. And cherry pie! No heart attacks tonight."
"Sounds like a deal. I'll see you tomorrow! If I don't miss the morning ferry!"
"Stay out of trouble, jailbird!"
"Oh, is Stan still all bent out of shape about me being a murderer?"
I knew I needed to let her know about everything that had happened here, but figured it could wait until she got back. She didn't need anything to take away from her evening.
"Oh, just Stan being Stan."
"That's all you needed to say, dear. I'll turn myself in tomorrow when I arrive. Until then, you tell him he better watch himself or this jailbird will fly the coop."
"I'll make sure your prison uniform is washed and ironed," I laughed as we hung up.
But I texted Wanda to make sure Granny wasn't pulling my leg.
Sure enough, Granny wasn't hiding some health issue. She had really landed herself a doctor. Go, Granny.
Speaking of texts, one came in from Nate asking if I had a chance to talk to Trevor about holding the town meeting at his bar. In all the events of the past day, it had completely slipped my mind. I wrote back saying I'd check. I waited for the evening ferry before I closed up Bitter Beans and headed over to Trevor's bar.
The lights were on, but the sign was still turned to "Closed". I peered in the window and saw Trevor had put down a bunch of tarps over all the furniture. The dingy walls were covered in a fresh coat of paint. Trevor was sitting at the bar, digging into a takeout box from Yvette's cafe. I tapped on the window and he turned around. His face lit up when he saw me and he came over to open the door.
"Hey!" I said. "Got a minute?"
"Of course!" he replied. "Come in!" He ushered me in and then shut the door behind me. "I didn't expect to see you." He grimaced sheepishly. "Sorry about all that yesterday. I... I was just in a bad place. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't cause any problems."
The thing about living in a small town on an island is that you can't avoid a person. Trevor was going to be a permanent resident. So, you gotta work things out. "Don't let it happen again," I said, pointing my finger at him, but then extending my hand for a shake. "Deal?"
"Deal," he replied with a relieved smile.
I looked around. "You're really fixing up the old place. It looks amazing!"
He actually blushed and said, "Oh, just doing some repair work that Jake had let slide."
"How soon are you opening your doors?"
"Thinking maybe next week." His eyes lit up. "I’m actually trying out some of the food I’m hoping to serve. Want to be my guinea pig?"
"Sure!" I said, sliding onto a bar stool. "Happy to help."
"I'm so glad you can be my first customer," he replied. He stepped into the kitchen and called out from the back. "You've always meant so much to me, Paige. And I know that, no matter what happened between us, my secrets are always safe with you."
It struck me as an odd thing to say. I replied, "Thanks." I suddenly had a strange feeling in my gut that maybe I should wrap up my business here and get going. I told myself it was nothing, that I was just getting spooked because this was Jake's old place and I hadn't been in since the night he tried to murder me. "Listen, Nate wants to hold a town council meeting and was wondering if you might be up for holding it here?"
"Maybe. What's it about?" asked Trevor. I heard dishes clattering in the back.
"He just wants to present Madison's proposal."
"Oh. Yeah. Madison. She has some good ideas."
"Well, Nate is thinking it might be a little bit too much too soon for the town."
Trevor stopped and peered out of the kitchen pass-thru at me. "Really? How serious is he about rejecting her proposal? It seems like everyone could benefit from what she's saying."
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just the messenger."
"I hope Nate reconsiders. It would be a shame if the entire town had to suffer because one man had some ideas about their fate that didn't line up with his own."
It was such a strange way of phrasing things. "Well... that's why he wants to hold the town meeting. So that everyone can have a say."
"Is there a town council?" asked Trevor. He walked out of the kitchen empty handed and leaned against the door frame. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Like, is there a group of people who have input on how to take care of the island, or is he more like a king up there in his house on the hill?"
"Um... more of a reluctant, benevolent monarch with the best interest of everyone at heart. He just inherited this position. But he's looking for ways to include more people."
"Good," said Trevor. "Because I'd really like to make sure the townspeople have a voice in local government here."
"Right," I said, remembering Trevor's passion for being the one to call the shots. He just couldn't keep himself out of politics, could he? Even if everything was working well.
He just smiled, satisfied with whatever I said, but then stopped himself. "OH! Before I forget!" exclaimed Trevor. He pulled a book out from behind the counter. "You dropped this other day when we were at the Founders' Festival."
He put it in front of me and tapped the cover with his forefinger. He walked back into the kitchen and I looked down. It was Georgia's book. I remembered how he had put his arms around me and hadn't let go. Had he lifted
it out of my pocket?
"Thanks!" I said warily. "I thought I had lost it forever."
"Nope! Just saw it lying there after you took off with Nate."
"Cool," I said, sliding the book off the counter and putting it into my pocket again.
"That Georgia was a bizarre woman," he called out.
I worried the pages of the book with my thumb. "Did you read it?"
"No," he said. "Just mentioned I had found your book and it was written by her and some of the folks in town told me some stories."
"She's a real character," I tried to laugh, but the laugh came out strained.
"Close your eyes! I want your first impressions!"
I did what I was told, but was feeling nervous about not seeing exactly where he was in the room.
I heard Trevor come out of the kitchen and walk across the room towards me. "Here you go! The specialty of the house! You have to tell me if it's as good as what you can make. Open your eyes! Pie a la mode!"
I saw the cherry pie in his hand and instinctively batted it away. The pie splattered on the ground. Trevor looked angry.
"Paige! What are you doing?"
I picked up the plastic knife from his takeaway dinner and backed towards the door. "I believed you! I believed you when you said you came here to start your life over! And that you and your uncle had nothing in common!"
"Paige! PLEASE!" begged Trevor. "What is going on? Why are you acting like this?"
"You steal Georgia's book out of my pocket? And then think you can kill me with horse tranquilizers in your pie?"
"What?"
"Like how you killed Georgia and poisoned Linda and tried to kill my Granny?"
"Horse tranquilizers??"
"There were red handprints on the wall of my basement when I found Granny. She had red fingerprints on her shirt. And the next day, as you were moving those grenadine boxes, you had red all over your hand and when you hugged me, you left the marks on my shirt. And Granny went to the ferry storage unit and I know you were there, too. Someone was strong enough to carry all those boxes for her. I know it was you, Trevor!"
"No, Paige! NO!" he said, horrified. "I dropped a box of grenadine and it was leaking everywhere. That's why I had red on my fingers. And this pie? I bought it over at the Founders' Festival. There's a guy selling pies. I knew that nothing I could make could compare to what you make, so I bought one and was going to try to make you jealous enough that you'd agree to become the baker here at the bar."
