by Eryn Scott
“Are you comparing my desserts to bodies again?” A twangy voice called out from the kitchen.
Newt cleared his throat.
Char, the baker behind the amazing creations lining the shelves, shoved the top half of her body through the swinging aluminum door leading to the kitchen. Her right hand held a doughy spatula, which she pointed at the tall man.
“I’m serious, I will quit as fast as you can spit if you keep up that creepy manner of speakin’.” Char pursed her lips and leveled a glare at the tall man.
I guess that answered my question about how she felt about her new boss.
Mad as she seemed, it was still good to see Char. She’d moved to Pine Crest from Georgia when I was six. I ate up her southern accent almost as much as her famous scones. Basically, the woman ruined me for baked goods from an early age. After savoring one of her confections, I was never able to enjoy the processed, preserved, packaged imposters sitting in boxes on the grocery store shelves.
Small as she was, she had “a giant’s strength,” that one, spending the time she wasn’t baking, running or biking every inch of Pine Crest and beyond. For an indulgent moment — because the way they were glaring at each other, it seemed like a good possibility — I mentally pictured a Battle Royale between Char and Newt. My short fantasy confirmed the fact that the buff baker would most definitely kick his tall, tiny, hiney.
“Charlotte, I was merely indulging the ladies in an alternate sensory experience of —”
“Nate.” She snapped. “I don’t want your excuses. Just cut it out, would you?” She let her gaze settle on us and a more amiable mask clicked into place over the annoyed one she’d been wearing while glaring at Newt. “Good evenin’ girls! Anything I can do for you?”
“We’re picking up a pie to take to Maggie’s.” I craned my neck as I perused the bakery display case. “I think we’ll go with the cherry,” I said, pointing and checking with Liv to make sure it sounded good.
Liv nodded emphatically and mouthed the word “sanguine,” winking.
“Alright, well you let me know if I can help you with anythin’ or if this one starts describin’ food like an episode of CSI again.” Char slipped back into the kitchen, muttering something about how she was gonna kill Kathy for letting “that man” buy the place.
Newt bowed a little, ignoring Char and focusing on the pie we’d picked. “Good choice,” he said, giving the last word a good amount of snake hiss. He slid open the case and began packing up the pie for us.
Liv wet her lips, staring after the golden brown saucer as he slid it into a box. Once it was out of sight, and she out of its trance-like hold, she elbowed me and jerked her head toward Newt.
“Suspect. Get alibi.” Her whispered words were shoved through suddenly clenched teeth.
Right. Unlikely as it was Newt had been doing anything other than creeping everyone out on campus that night, it would help to cross his name off our list. I sucked in a breath and stepped closer to the counter.
“So, Nate…” I trailed my finger along the polished cement, regretting the motion when it caught on something sticky. Rubbing my fingertips together, I peered up to where the tall man leered at me expectantly. “Um… What were you up to on campus Tuesday when I ran into you?”
His pale lip curled up into a sneer. “Simply taking care of the competition.”
Liv swallowed audibly next to me. I felt my expectations catch in my throat, making it hard to breathe for a moment.
Well, that was ominous…
What competition? The part of my brain which spent more time than it should considering the validity of conspiracy theories answered back with British accent competition?
Blinking, I asked, “What — er — a competition?”
His dark eyes went almost black. “I wasn’t about to be outdone by some out-of-towner.”
Scrunching my forehead together in thought, I tried to keep my pounding heart quiet so I could form a coherent thought.
Dr. Campbell was an out-of-towner, for sure. Maybe I’d been wrong to discount this guy as a suspect. Newt did seem like someone who might know a lot about Shakespeare — the fake British accent couldn’t be where the obsession stopped — and he would’ve given Snape a run for his Galleons for the position of Potions Prof at Hogwarts — that is to say, the man looked like he knew something about poisons.
Liv, captain of team “Newt is merely entertainingly weird instead of lock-you-in-the-basement creepy,” stood there in stunned silence, lips slightly parted in defeat.
“Out — outdone?” I stuttered. My thoughts raced by like a poet on a mission against punctuation.
“That ‘espresso’ stand in the student center was gaining a little too much buzz around campus, if you know what I mean.” He cocked a thin eyebrow.
Face flushing at the sudden let down of adrenaline — and a little bit from nausea after he made that particular face — I exhaled my accusations in a huff.
“Campus Cup? What about them?” Liv asked, seemingly better at recovering than I. “Everyone knows their coffee sucks. No one goes there unless they’re desperate.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re gaining anything but possible health code violations.”
Liv said, “Nice!” as she turned to give me a high-five for the burn.
Newt’s pasty jaw clenched tight. “Regardless. I am under the impression Kathy was far too friendly with them and I wanted to make sure they knew there was a new general in charge.”
Yeah, a frustrated fake British one, I thought to myself with a chuckle.
“You mean, you only went there to tell them — what exactly?” Liv asked.
He scoffed. “That their sad excuse for a coffee stand is a blemish on the name of the beverage and how I am going to slice them off the face of this town once and for all.”
Creepy as Newt’s statement was, it wasn’t a confession of murder.
“This threatening you did, was it before or after you saw me?” I asked.
Newt pushed back his shoulders. “Before our conversation.”
Welp. There was his alibi then. By the time I found Dr. C, his body was starting to grow cold, which meant he had to have been deceased for at least a half an hour.
“I still don’t see why you’re worried about that crappy stand.” I scanned the cute, clean, heavenly smelling cafe. “There are a few thousand students on campus, not to mention the almost two thousand full-time Pine Crest residents. I’d say there’s enough business for the both of you. Heck, we could probably even use another shop or two the way the line wraps around this building in the mornings.”
Kathy, the previous owner, often complained about the rigorous pace, saying she wished for the quiet, steady flow which settled over the cafe each summer. I hadn’t been able to talk with her since she’d sold the place to Newt, but I was guessing she’d finally made the decision to do something less stressful with her time.
“Regardless,” Newt answered, tightly. I saw a flicker of… something in those dark eyes. “It’s run by some whiny scamp from the city who only shows up once a quarter to make sure the rickety thing isn’t on fire. He doesn’t even train his baristas… if you can even call his employees that.”
“Who’d you talk to at Campus Cup?” Liv asked Newt, working her bottom lip in between her teeth. I recognized her embarrassed tic and my interest piqued.
“Some floppy-haired part-time employee.” Newt rolled his eyes, saying the word “employee” as if it were a disease.
“Was it Carson?” Liv asked, cheeks turning slightly pink.
“Tell me, Olivia, do you remember the name of every insignificant bug you crush upon finding it in your apartment?” Newt’s lips pursed smugly when he saw both Liv and I were speechless. “That’s what I thought.” He turned to continue boxing up our pie.
Liv’s eyes were wide when they met mine. “Wait, the bugs have names?” she whispered. Our stunned faces broke into smiles as we suppressed giggles. After paying, we
toted our delicious spoils toward the door.
“Pepper,” Newt’s voice stopped me as my fingers curled over the handle.
I turned around. Newt narrowed his eyes in a way that made my knees wobble unsteadily for a moment as if I were a lanky piece of prey and he knew I wouldn’t be able to outrun him.
“Give my regards to Margaret for me.”
“Will do,” I said.
Escaping out into the fresh air, we fast-walked toward Maggie’s house until we were well out of view of the shop. Only then did we stop to catch our breath, rolling wild eyes at each other as we recovered from all of that.
“Well, that was terrifying.” I let a shiver remove the worst of the goosebumps which had formed on my skin.
“I kind of agree with you for once.” Liv ran her hands up and down her arms. “All of that squashing bugs and slicing blemishes. Eww.”
“Yeah, so much of it was disturbing, not least of which was how he knew we live in an apartment.”
Liv cringed. “Lucky guess?”
“We can only hope.”
Somewhat recovered, we started walking again. A question tugged at my mind.
“Hey, why’d you ask him about who was working at Campus Cup when he went on his pimple-themed threat rampage?”
I glanced at Liv out of the corner of my eye and noticed her shoulders stiffen. Something was up and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. My sleuthing didn’t have to be limited to murder investigations, after all.
She shrugged. “Oh, you know, so we could make sure his alibi checks out. It’s not enough to believe whatever people say they were doing, Pepper. A real detective double checks. People lie.” At this last statement, she met my gaze finally.
“Yeah, people like you.” I scoffed. “Since when are you interested in Carson Moore?” I pulled up a mental picture of the laid back, class-clown head of campus activities.
Liv cleared her throat. “I — there isn’t — I’ve had a stressful couple of weeks with my classes and stopped by the stand to grab coffee a few times when I couldn’t make it out here and back. No big deal. I met him a few times. We talked.”
I stopped. She’d been giving me too hard a time about Alex for me to let this drop.
“Since when do you blush when talking about someone you’ve met a few times?” I asked, sidling up to a garbage can on the street and holding the pie over the opening.
Liv’s eyes widened and she took a step forward, hands outstretched. “Now, now. There’s no need to involve the pie; it’s innocent.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Just tell me the truth and it’ll be safe.”
Sighing, Liv let her shoulders drop. “Okay. I like him. He’s fun, makes me laugh.”
I pulled the pie back from the trashy precipice and tucked it under my arm. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
We started walking toward Maggie’s again, but after a few silent steps (where I may or may not have been smiling victoriously), Liv said, “You better watch the cocky act, Brooks, or I might have to tattle to Alex and let him know you’re investigating without him.”
Now it was her turn to curl her lips in triumph as she walked ahead of me, stopping at Maggie’s front gate.
Right. I gulped and followed her through the gate.
15
“Hey,” Maggie called from the kitchen as we walked inside her house.
Garlic and butter permeated the warm air inside. We took off our coats and hung them by the door.
“Mags, it smells amazing in here,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment. I could hear Liv take sips of the air next to me, too.
We rounded the corner, into the large kitchen, where Maggie and Josh were positioned around the island in various stages of chopping and sautéing.
Maggie smiled big and bright, her brown hair piled loosely into a bun on the top of her head. After setting down the pie on the counter, I wrapped my arms around her (almost unable to reach with her pregnant belly in between us), and then leaned down to plant a quick kiss on my soon-to-be nephew. Maggie didn’t love it when people around town came up and touched her belly, but I was different — I was family.
“Hey Hudson,” I told her belly (I still wanted to giggle every time I thought of him possibly being named Hamburger). “You coming out anytime soon, man?”
Maggie sighed and Josh laughed from where he stood cutting up an onion, saying, “Two weeks to go.”
“Ooh, pie?” Maggie wiped her hands on a towel and made a beeline for the pie on the counter.
“Yeah, Newt says hello.” I winked, waiting for the reaction I knew was coming.
Maggie shivered and stepped away from the dessert.
“Don’t worry, Char made it. Newt only boxed it up for us,” Liv said, plopping herself onto one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
“And royally creeped us out while he did so,” I added.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “What’s new?”
Liv grabbed an olive from the jar on the counter. “Well, he’s definitely not a murderer,” she said as she chewed. “That’s new.”
Tipping her head, my sister returned to the items on her stovetop. “That we can prove,” she mumbled, moving the veggies around in the pan.
“Actually, Margaret, this time he’s the least of our worries.” I raised my eyebrows and smirked, knowing she hated her full name and how Newt had insisted on calling her by it since elementary school.
I was growing increasingly sure Newt had some sort of love-like obsession with my sister, but I wasn’t going to knowingly incur the wrath of a pregnant woman by mentioning my theory.
Most likely too tired to deal with my teasing, Maggie ignored the name and focused on my statement. “You’re still going on about this murder investigation?”
Liv scoffed. “And on and on.” She met a grin from Josh with one of her own.
I sat next to Liv. “Because I know it’s Evilsworth. It has to be.”
Josh sliced through a bunch of spinach and then froze. He set the knife down and furrowed his brow. “What makes you so sure?”
I started my list, flicking a finger up each time I added something new. “Dr. C had attacked his new book — which he loves so much he can’t go five minutes without talking about it. He hates Fergie, which would explain him threatening her with the second note. He got in a huge fight with the victim a mere half hour before he was killed. And…” I pulled in a breath as I thought. “He’s just terrible.” I let my hand drop and settle on the cool countertop.
“What about a weapon?” Maggie asked. “Did they ever figure out what killed the poor guy?”
“Poison,” I said, watching my sister transfer the veggies from the pan onto a serving dish already full of steaming pasta. “Hebanon.”
Maggie scrunched up her nose. “What’s that?”
“Most likely made up by Shakespeare, but it could be Hensbane, Western Hemlock, or a myriad of other poisons prevalent during The Bard’s time.”
Josh coughed in that surprised way people do when they suck in air too quickly. The three of us glanced over at him. Slightly red faced, he waved a hand and shook his head, motioning he was fine.
“And you think Evilsworth has access to that kind of stuff?” Maggie asked, turning back to me.
Leave it to my sister to find the one flaw in my theory.
“Um… well, I haven’t found any proof he doesn’t.”
Maggie put a hand on her hip. “And someone’s threatening Fergie now?”
I wobbled my head back and forth. “Possibly.”
My sister sighed. “Peps, I don’t like you getting involved with this. It sounds dangerous.”
“Alex keeps telling her the same thing, but she won’t listen to him either.” Liv’s betrayal rang loudly off the high ceilings in my sister’s perfect eggshell-colored kitchen.
I shot a “thanks a lot” look in her direction. She mouthed “sorry” as I turned to face what I knew was about to turn into a thing. Maggie’s lips were pursed together a
nd her brown eyes sparkled as if someone told her she could spend as much money as she wanted at Ann Taylor Loft.
“And who is Alex?” she asked.
Liv, who probably figured she was already in deep enough trouble and she might as well have fun with it, helped with that clarification. “Oh, he’s the hot guy from the library whose dad is in charge of the investigation and who Pepper wants to lick.”
At that, Josh chuckled. I narrowed my eyes at him. He went back to chopping. Maggie, however, could’ve been in the running for some Guinness Book world record for “smallest forehead” with how close her eyebrows were to her hairline.
I shook my head. “That’s not true. Well — the last part isn’t, at least.” I grumbled. “The man is infuriating. Not lickable in the least. I’m only letting him tag along because he sometimes slips up and gives me information about the case. He wants me to stay out of it because he thinks Fergie did it.”
Liv chimed in, finishing a sentence I had thought was complete. “But he knows she’s still going to investigate and wants to be there so he can keep her safe. Isn’t that sweet?”
Maggie nodded. “I like the sound of this guy.”
“Big surprise,” I said, rolling my eyes.
If I needed another rationale to keep my distance from Alex, I wasn’t going to get a better reason than Maggie’s approval.
Maggie clapped her hands together. “Okay, we’re pretty much ready to eat. Will you go get Brooklyn? She’s playing up in her room.”
Happy for any excuse to leave this lions den disguised as a kitchen, I was out of there before Maggie even finished her directive. Brooklyn may have only been three, but she was a fierce supporter of her Aunty Pepper and I really needed an ally if I was going to make it through dinner.
Like the champ fighter she was, Brooklyn distracted the table with songs from her favorite movies and stories about her invisible friend, Larry. The kid was good and I was glad to have her in my corner.
“Daddy, why do you look like you swallowed a bug?” Brooklyn asked close to half an hour into our dinner. Her nose bunched up as she put her fork down. “Do you not like spinach either?” She held her hand up to her mouth — placing it on the wrong side and therefore directing her words right at my sister. “If you plug your nose, you can’t taste it too much.”
