I thought about my conversation with Mrs. Colby and smiled. “I’m pretty sure it was Al.”
Nichelle gave me a side hug. “He’d be so proud of you. When are they announcing the winner?”
“In about an hour or so. The tasting and judging are starting in a minute. Are you sticking around?”
She hoisted the baby higher on her hip. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it. But I think I’ll grab the stroller and walk this kiddo around a little bit while we’re waiting.”
My nerves were stretched so tight, between anticipation of the pie contest and worry over Lucas, who was at the performance tent already, that I couldn’t stand still. I paced the grounds for forty-five minutes, and by the time I got back to the pie judging tent, it was nearly standing room only. I pushed my way to the front, checking out the competition on the table.
There were about thirty pies, I estimated. Each of them was picture-perfect, and I began to second-guess myself. Why had I taken this risk? Why hadn’t I stayed safe, following the basic recipe and hoping for the best? I was so screwed. I’d be laughed out of the contest, and no matter what Mary had said, I’d let down everyone at Leone’s. Bitsy would gloat, and I’d have to listen to her for a year.
“May I have your attention, please?” A petite woman with curled gray hair stood at the microphone in the front of the tent, beaming at the crowd. “Welcome to the Eighty-Fifth Annual Perfect Pecan Pie Festival! We’re just so tickled to have such a wonderful turnout for the announcement of our winning pies. And look at these beautiful entries!” She spread her hand wide, gesturing to the table.
“We’ll get to the winners in a moment, but first, we want to thank the lovely Belinda Casey Colby for honoring us with her presence today. Mrs. Colby is the granddaughter of our own beloved General Casey, a part-time resident of Palm Dunes herself, and we are just thrilled to have her here!”
Applause roared in the small space, as Mrs. Colby stood and gave a little bow. I grinned, thinking of Al.
“And now, with no further ado, the winners of the Perfect Pecan Pie Festival! May I have all the entrants come up front, please, so that we can recognize everyone’s hard work?”
Most of us were already standing by the table, but a few more people emerged from the crowd, all of them looking as nervous as I felt.
“All right now. Third place goes to . . . Jared Paulson, with his Caramel Crunch Pecan Pie. Congratulations, Jared!”
A guy who was probably in his early thirties stepped forward, accepted the ribbon, and lifted it high over his head to the polite clapping of the audience.
“Quiet now, everyone. Second place goes to . . .” My stomach clenched. “Lacey Robinson, with her Apple Pecan Pie!”
There was more applause as an older lady toddled to the podium and bowed to the judges. Taking her ribbon, she clasped it in both hands and began to speak.
“So honored! Such a wonderful surprise. I have so many people I’d like to thank . . .”
I didn’t know whether she’d misunderstood what place she’d won or just felt second prize gave her the right to make a speech, but she was going for it. Several of the officials tried to subtly move her away from the podium, but she wasn’t going to be rushed. I giggled, and for the first time, I looked out over the gathering of people waiting for the final announcement.
In one corner of the tent, I spotted Mary, along with several of the servers and the cook from Leone’s. Mary caught my eye and gave me a thumb’s up. Not too far from them, Crissy Darwin and her parents were trying to be inconspicuous as they watched. Across the tent, the Golden Rays contingent, headed up by Mrs. Mac, were all sending me a variety of encouraging hand signals. Near the tent door, Nichelle stood, holding small Jack up so that he could see. And a few feet away from them was Lucas, whose eyes never left me.
A lump rose in my throat. These were my people, my tribe. Each one of them was part of me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. In that moment, I felt Al near me, felt his presence more tangibly than I had since he’d passed. And I realized that this was the legacy he’d left me. It wasn’t the pie recipe or winning the contest or even Leone’s. It was his sense of community. The way he’d connected with people, made them feel important, loved and wanted. The way he’d listened to us, celebrated our wins and consoled us in our losses. It was how he’d lived, and it was what he was teaching me still. Tears blurred my vision.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay. The winner of the Eighty-Fifth Perfect Pecan Pie Festival is . . . Jackie O’Brien with her Florida-Georgia Key Lime Pecan Pie!”
By the time I finished receiving the congratulations of everyone in the tent—everyone, that is, other than Bitsy who’d stomped off, growling—it was nearly time for Crissy’s performance. I hugged Nichelle good-bye, since she had to head home with the baby, and waved to the Leone’s crowd before I made my way to the front of the tent again.
“Well done, young lady.” Mrs. Colby stood near me, beaming. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Colby. You were the inspiration, you know.”
“That’s kind of you. Tell me how you came up with the idea, exactly. It’s quite unique, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “It was when you said the General wanted Palm Dunes to be the best of Georgia and Florida. I thought that key limes are the quintessential Florida dessert fruit, and marrying them to pecans seemed to make sense.” I reached for my pie and cut a generous slice. “And then I went a step further. I incorporated my grandmother’s crust, because it really is the best, and my aunt’s basic pecan pie recipe, so it’s the best of my worlds, too.”
“Genius, my dear. I would very much like that recipe, if you don’t mind.” She handed me a small ivory card. “This is my telephone number. Call me, please, and we’ll arrange to have tea. I think we should become better acquainted. I have a feeling we could be good friends.”
“I’d like that. It would be my pleasure.” I waited until Mrs. Colby had wandered away and then I turned to one of the officials standing behind the table. “May I take this slice of pie and borrow a paper plate? I need to make a delivery.”
“Of course. It’s your pie, after all.” He smiled.
“Thank you.” I gathered the slice of pie, snagged a plastic fork from the table and hurried out of the tent and across the Festival to the performance tent.
It was already filled nearly to capacity, but I managed to make my way along the edge to the stage, where several burly men guarded the entrance to backstage.
“Hi, there.” I put on a bright smile. “I’m a friend of Crissy’s. Oh, and my boyfriend Lucas is playing guitar for her tonight.”
They both looked at me skeptically.
I lifted the plate of pie. “I’m bringing Crissy pie.”
Now they looked less skeptical and more alarmed. “No way, ma’am. No food brought in.”
Damn. I mentally kicked myself. Of course they wouldn’t let me bring it in, not when people were being poisoned.
“Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend. She’s okay.” Lucas must’ve heard my voice, as he stuck his head through the curtained doorway.
“But she can’t bring in the food.” The taller of the two men crossed his arms over his massive chest.
“I promise, no one will eat it. We’re about to go on, anyway. You have my word.”
The guards grudgingly allowed me to pass, and I smiled at Lucas. “Thanks. How’re you feeling? Are you ready to rock and roll?”
He shrugged. “It’s folk music, so maybe not so much rocking. But we’ll definitely roll.”
“You’re going to knock ’em dead.” I hugged him and then stood back, looking up into his face as he winced. “Ooops, sorry. Bad choice of words. You’ll wow them.”
“Sounds good.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, and I could feel his dancing nerves.
“Jackie!” Crissy wandered over to me. “Congratulations. You must be so happy.” I saw the traces of shadows beneath her eyes, only partially covered by
makeup. I knew tonight wouldn’t be easy for her.
“Thanks.” I lifted the plate. “You can’t eat this now, of course, but I wanted to carry on Al’s tradition. A slice of the winning pie.”
“Oh, you remembered.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll have it after we get finished tonight. Do me a favor, though, and stay with it the whole time, so I don’t have to have it tested first.” She rolled her eyes to the watchful man in the corner. “My dad’s doing the food monitoring, making sure no one eats anything that hasn’t been checked out.”
“Of course.” I gave her a hug. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks. Want to watch from back here? You won’t have to deal with getting jostled by the crowd.”
“A backstage seat? Sure. Thanks.”
The lights dimmed, and we heard a man on the stage announcing rising folk music star Crissy Darwin with her guest guitarist, Lucas Reilly. Crissy shot Lucas one last encouraging look and offered him her hand as they walked onto the stage.
I found a folding chair and sat down out of sight of the audience. Lucas was perched on a stool, appearing amazingly relaxed and comfortable as he played the guitar. Crissy stood in the spotlight, in front of the microphone, her voice sweet and strong.
After the first number ended, I balanced the pie plate on my knee while I applauded. Crissy thanked her fans for their support in the wake of the events of the past week, and then she cleared her throat.
“We’re really grateful tonight that Lucas Reilly stepped in to help us by playing guitar. Let’s give him a big round of applause for being so willing to join me at the last minute.”
Polite clapping swelled and then subsided.
“But I’ve got to mention someone we’re all missing here tonight, someone we’re going to miss forever. My guitarist, my first accompanist, Dell Jamison, left us this week.” She paused, and I could see she was struggling not to cry. “Dell was a quiet man, and not many people knew him well, but he was a gentleman. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and he always had my back. We don’t know for sure, but I believe he died because he was always looking out for me. Dell—”
“BITCH!”
From the other side of the stage, a blurred figure raced toward Crissy, screaming all the while. “You bitch! You never loved him. You took him from me, took my one true love. I was the one who loved him, but you stood between us.”
I jumped to my feet, just as I recognized the woman. It was Crissy’s fan Diane, the woman we’d met in Crystal Cove. She was standing next to the singer, yelling at the top of her lungs. Lucas had stood up, too, and was moving toward the two woman. But something else caught my eye, something in Diane’s hand.
It was a knife.
With a shout, I sprinted onto the stage just as Diane raised her arm over Crissy. Lucas, being closer, grabbed the lunatic’s arm, but she shook him off and slashed at him. He took one staggering step back, and Diane lifted the knife again.
I’d never played sports in high school. I was more of the journalist, the yearbook writer, the library aid. I didn’t like the physical stuff. I wasn’t competitive.
But now, with every fiber of my being, every bit of my strength, I threw my body onto Diane, knocking her to the ground. In my mind’s eye, she should’ve dropped the knife when I tackled her, but it didn’t quite work out that way. Instead, she screeched at me and struck out.
A stinging sensation bit into my upper arm, but I didn’t let go of her. I leaned on her with all of my weight, screwing shut my eyes as she continued to scream and rant.
It seemed like a lifetime before strong arms lifted me from her body, but it was actually only a few seconds. My burly friends, the ones so worried about little old me going backstage, had finally managed to reach us. One of them supported my weight while the other hauled Diane to her feet and held her arms. She never stopped babbling.
“My God, Jackie. Are you okay?” Lucas pulled me into his arms, holding me close to him. The guard stepped away and went to help his partner who was struggling to get Diane under control.
“Yeah, I’m . . . damn, I think I smushed Crissy’s pie.” I craned my neck to see my chair, where the paper plate lay turned upside down. “Aww, it’s ruined now.”
“Baby, you were . . . oh, my God, Jackie. You’re bleeding.” Lucas held up his hand, wet with blood. “She must’ve stabbed you.”
“Wow. Look at that. Blood.” I managed to slur out the words and then fainted dead away.
“So it was Diane the whole time?” I glanced at Lucas who was sitting next to me as the EMT’s tended to my stab wound. I kept my face in the opposite direction so I could pretend whatever they were doing was happening to someone else. I’d convinced them that I didn’t need a trip to the hospital, as long as they could stitch me up here and give me a tetanus shot.
He sighed. “So it seems. From what I can understand, she and Dell had a fling a while back. She fell in love with him, and apparently, he blew her off. She wouldn’t take no, so he told her he was in love with Crissy and that was why he couldn’t be with her.”
“Was he?” Dell hadn’t seemed to me to be carrying a torch for the younger woman.
Lucas shrugged. “Who knows? Crissy says no. She thinks Dell just wanted to get rid of Diane and used Crissy as a handy excuse. She says they were always more like brother and sister, but I guess we’ll never be sure.”
“But she poisoned Maddy?”
“Yeah. She had her hair in a baseball cap and wore a hoodie, and she intercepted the food delivery at the office. She put in the poison on the way up to Maddy, knowing that it was always Crissy who ate the Kung Pao. And at Crystal Cove, she managed to get some of the strychnine into the chili, but not enough—lucky for Trina—because one of the cooks at the Riptide was watching her.”
“But Dell suspected.”
“Dell knew her better than anyone else did. And he was the only one who could guess why she’d have motive. That’s likely why he didn’t tell anyone else—he was embarrassed about using Crissy as a way to shake off Diane. He called her, told her she needed to come forward and confess or he’d go to the cops himself. She went over to his house, argued with him, and then when the fight moved outside—he was heading to the car, to force her to the police station—she grabbed an ax from a stump and killed him.”
“My God.” I breathed the words. “Poor Dell.”
“Yeah.” Lucas held my hand, wincing as much as I did while they stitched my arm.
“How did Diane get onstage? They weren’t going to let me back until you intervened.”
“Good question. She slipped past the guard, who apparently was watching Crissy instead of the doorway. I have a feeling he’s not going to be in personal security much longer.”
“You tried to stop her, too. Did she hurt you?” I remembered Lucas stumbling back, away from the knife.
“She nicked me a little. Nothing big, and yes, I had it looked at.” He kissed my knuckles. “But you’re the real hero. You saved Crissy and me, you managed to subdue a crazed killer, and you won the Perfect Pecan Pie Festival.”
I lifted the shoulder not being worked on. “All in a day’s work.”
Lucas held my hand to his face. “But you scared the shit of me. For the second time in two weeks. Don’t do that again, okay? I love you. I’m pretty sure I can’t live without you. Don’t make me try.”
“I’ll do my best.” I bit my lip. “Lucas, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything, baby.” He brushed a kiss on the inside of my wrist.
“Can you get me a piece of pie?”
IT WAS THE perfect Florida autumn evening. There was just enough cool in the breeze that I was glad for my jeans and sweatshirt, and the air was filled with the smoky scent of a nearby bonfire and roasting pecans.
Lucas was still talking with police, but once they’d let me go, I’d needed to get out of the tent. It was claustrophobic and cloying, with too many people in too small a space. Crissy and her parents couldn�
��t stop thanking me, over and over. It was embarrassing. Curious onlookers kept trying to peek through the flaps, and the cops stationed at the openings were getting exasperated with shooing them away. I’d whispered to Lucas that I was going to walk the Festival for a bit, and I’d see him when he was finished.
The lights from the booths and stands danced in the breeze, casting weird shadows as they moved. I shivered just a little, and it wasn’t from the cold. In the last ten days, I’d been so preoccupied with all things pie and of course with the murders that I’d pushed to the back of my mind thoughts of what we’d learned about the coming battle, at least until Cathryn’s visit this afternoon had brought it roaring back. Lucas and I hadn’t said much about that conversation after she left, both of us focused on our respective challenges: mine the pie contest, and his performing with Crissy.
Now, though, here in the dark, even in the relative safety of the crowd, I couldn’t help thinking about it.
Fighting an evil that had been planning this war for decades, maybe even eons, terrified me. What I’d seen in Diane’s eyes tonight had been scary, sure. But it was madness, not evil. She was crazy. The idea that Lucas and all the other Carruthers agents might have to risk everything in the approaching storm clutched at my stomach, making it hard to breathe. All of them . . . Rafe, Nell, even Cathryn . . . they were my friends. I couldn’t imagine knowing they were walking into danger.
And Lucas. There was no way I’d stand back and let him fight. I wanted to protect him, take him away and hide until it was all over and the battle was decided. I knew my boyfriend was capable of defending himself. He was strong and brave, and he’d go forward without hesitation. But part of me worried that he wasn’t ready. Nell and Rafe and Cathryn . . . they’d had their abilities their entire lives. Their power was great, and they knew how to use it. Lucas was still figuring how who and what he was. It wasn’t safe.
I couldn’t lose him. Panic gripped me, and my heart pounded. I loved this man with every ounce of my being, and I’d do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking my own life. Even if it meant letting Delia or any other spirit possess me again. I shuddered, wrapping my arms around my waist.
Death A La Mode Page 11
