by Emma Ames
Secrets, Lies, and Homemade Pies
EMMA AMES
Copyright © 2019 by Emma Ames
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Secrets, Lies, and Homemade Pies/ Emma Ames
ISBN 9781080537112
Cover Design: FayeFayeDesigns
Stock Photos purchased by Ann Everett from DepositPhotos.com
Photo contributors: interactimages and malkani
Please Note:
Secrets, Lies, and Homemade Pies is an MA-14 humorous, romantic, mystery version of Ann Everett’s steamy romance, Laid Out and Candle Lit.
Chapter One
Not only did Tizzy Donovan think her cup was always half empty, she was pretty sure someone had spit in it.
The last leg of her daily jog took her through Jenkins Cemetery. She stopped and inhaled the scent of freshly- mowed grass and the musk of fertile earth. It was spring, and she should have a bounce in her step, but the approaching anniversary of Boone’s death pushed any sense of renewal away. To become a widow and single mother before the age of twenty-five had been a big adjustment.
Closing her eyes, she willed the painful experience away. Many thought her ritual morbid, but for her, it remained a chance to start the day among people she had loved most in her life. She didn’t consider the departed as eerie or macabre, she thought of them as peaceful. All the pain, suffering, disappointment, grief, and demands of living were over. Granted, so was earthly joy, but she believed the afterlife held much greater happiness. That is unless you ended up in hell.
She inhaled, feeling thankfully alive among those who were no longer of this world. Her muscles eased as she reverently strolled past the headstones. Childhood memories flashed through her mind. Hours she’d spent in the kitchen with her grandmother, learning how to cook. Grandfather McAlister teaching her to drive. The recollection of steering his old jeep over a vacant field of bumpy cornrows made her laugh out loud. A crow took flight and brought her from her reverie.
Even though many of the dead had spoken to her for years, none had ever appeared to her. At first, she thought the spring haze created an illusion. But, as she blinked and looked again, she spotted someone kneeling at the foot of Boone’s grave, praying. Apparition or not, she got a full-blown, head-to-toe case of the heebie-jeebies. Every hair on her body snapped to attention. She rubbed her arms, squeezed her eyes tight. Okay. I’ll count to ten, and they’ll be gone…nine…ten. She opened one eye. Damn!
“Hello? Can I help you?” The words trembled across her tongue.
She moved closer, her brain scrambling to understand the scene. With each step, her heart pumped faster. Knees grew weaker. The figure was not so much kneeling as it was slumped, and not so much praying as staged. Its head rested limply against its chest, and its lifeless arms spread wide. Tizzy’s scream came out as a weak yelp.
She staggered and struggled to keep her balance, but it was no use. Falling against a tree, she retched and slipped downward until her butt hit the ground with a thud. She panted, then leaned forward, hugged her belly, and fought to rationalize the situation. Who could it be? She rolled onto all fours, then pushed herself to her feet. Edging two steps closer, recognition sent Tizzy’s insides into a death spiral. She gasped, wiped her lips, reached inside her bra, and pulled out her cell phone. She punched in the numbers. “There’s a dead body in the cemetery!”
Her brother laughed. “Ha-ha, very funny, Tizzy. I get it. April Fools!”
“I’m not kidding. There really is a dead body in the cemetery—and I think it’s Marlene.”
Chapter Two
As Ridge Cooper drove into Brownsboro, he chuckled. Welcome to Podunk. What a place to investigate his first solo case. He wasn’t fooling himself. This was his Judgment Day. If he screwed up, he wouldn’t last much longer as a Texas Ranger, for no love was lost between him and his boss. His captain didn’t understand why a boy from Philadelphia came all the way to Texas to be a ranger. Eight years with the Philly Police Department and twenty-eight months with the Texas Department of Public Safety didn’t sway the man. No matter how impressive Ridge’s reputation and investigative skills, he needed to prove himself all over again. So he’d done his homework concerning Brownsboro.
The little burg, about a hundred and twenty miles east of Dallas, was the oldest town in Henderson County. Nestled among tall pines, the total area of the city comprised two square miles. A typical rural community, where folks waved to everyone. Didn’t take long to learn about little towns. Everyone knew their neighbors by name and thought nothing of borrowing a cup of sugar. Sometimes that wasn’t a good thing and made his job difficult. People were tight-lipped when it came to one of their own. To make matters worse, there hadn’t been a murder in Brownsboro in fifty years.
He nodded to a cop running radar just past the city limit sign, then slowed his car to a crawl and took everything in. One main street. One caution light. One red light. He drove past the post office, where out front, old men looked to be passing the time of day.
A little farther down, a large wreath of white lilies tied with a black bow hung on the entrance of First United Bank. An electronic sign flashed Bank and Drive-thru open as usual. The town was plain and dismal. As he passed Hometown Grocery and City-Wide Gazette, he whipped a U-turn and surveyed the other side of the street. There was no glitz here, and except for McAlister’s Tavern, probably no nightlife either. This should be an open-and-shut case. The victim must have been bored to death. He continued past Clippity-Do-Da Hair Salon, Sweet Thangs Bakery, and finally, the Police station, slash City Hall.
He wheeled into the parking lot. The brick building was longer than it was wide with a side entrance and windows stretching across the front. He got out of the car and ambled inside. The chief, a sixty-something who looked like he’d made too many visits to the local bakery, rose first. The sheriff, half the chief’s age, also stood. The guy had to be at least six-five.
After shaking hands and introductions, Sheriff McAlister spoke first. “You got here in record time. We weren’t expecting you for two more hours. Like I told you on the phone, we don’t have any motels or hotels, but I’ve arranged for you to stay at Browning House. I’ll take you to get settled. Then you can come back here and go over everything we know so far.”
Ridge slid behind the wheel of his car and followed the sheriff as he turned left. It was a depressed area where streets weren’t curbed or guttered. Most of the houses were old and in need of paint, repair, or both. Cars no longer serviceable littered lawns. Long past the season, Christmas lights dangled from rooftops, while unsupervised kids played in front yards.
Ridge hoped to wrap the assignment up quickly. Staying in this place for too long would be a real downer.
When they angled onto Browning Street, the atmosphere changed. The old house on the east end didn’t look unoccupied. The lawn was manicured to perfection. The frame structure, painted cream with black shutters and green screen doors, had an L-shaped porch. Between the curved posts, and above the railing, Boston ferns hung suspended by chains. Flowering shrubs with pale pink blooms outlined the veranda.
By the time Ridge parked next to the sheriff, got out and grabbed his suitcase, McAlister was unlocking one of the two front doors.
The sherif
f gave the tour as Ridge followed close behind. “This here’s your living room, and down the hall, you’ve got three bedrooms. Use whichever you like, but this one at the end is the biggest and has the television. It also has the other front door opening onto the porch.”
Ridge spun in a circle, and his mouth hung open at the delicate quality and elegance of the house. The bungalow had ten-foot ceilings and was decorated with a woman’s touch. It didn’t smell old, and he was thankful for that. Dan crossed to the window and started the AC. A pleasant hum filled the room.
“Sorry, there’s no central heat and air. The sound of the unit may bother you at first, but after a while, you won’t sleep without the noise.”
Ridge laid his bag on the bed. “No need to apologize. I appreciate getting to stay local and not have to drive back and forth to a neighboring city every day to sleep. Do you own the home?”
Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out his pouch of tobacco. “My sister, Tizzy, owns it. You couldn’t get a room anyway. This time of year, people come from miles around to tour houses in Tyler because of the Azalea Trails. I don’t understand women and flowers, but they’ll spend all day walking and oohing and ahhing over ’em.”
He pointed out the window above the AC unit. “Tizzy lives in the next house.” Dan stepped to the porch, reached into the pouch, pinched a wad of tobacco, and tucked it in his cheek. “If you need anything, you can contact her or me. I help her take care of the place. I’ll leave you to get unpacked, and when you’re done, come back down to the station. No hurry, I’ll be there all afternoon.”
As the sheriff drove away, Ridge hoped first impressions were right. The guy seemed nice enough, but experience proved local lawmen sometimes resented rangers.
He strolled into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and found it stocked with basics and beer. Bless her. This is a woman after my own heart.
On the counter next to the coffee pot, he spotted a box from Sweet Thangs Bakery. He lifted the lid, eyed an assortment of muffins, and bit into one. Blueberries and moist goodness melted onto his tongue. Oh yeah, Sweet Thangs will definitely be a daily stop. Podunk town? Their hospitality already exceeded his expectations. Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge.
He reminded himself about the good ole boy mentality of rural Texas. He’d need to tread lightly to gain their trust and friendship. He didn’t care about the friendship part because he didn’t plan to be in town long enough for that to matter. At least he hoped he wouldn’t.
He was used to city life and liked it. Not that he was a party animal, but it was nice to have the convenience of multiple restaurants and shopping close by. From what he’d seen, this place didn’t even have pizza delivery.
Thirty-minutes later, he returned to the station. As he slid out of the car, he settled his hat, then shoved the office door open wide. Inside, he found the sheriff, chief, and an officer reared back in their chairs. Chief Earl Ramsey leaned forward. “Cooper, have you met Officer Bubba Tatum?”
Bubba jumped to his feet. “We’ve howdied, but we ain’t shook. Glad to meet you, Cooper. Did you get squared away up at the house?”
Perfect, just perfect. What would a hick town be without a Bubba and an Earl? All we need is Billy Bob. “I did. And McAlister, thank your sister for me. She has the kitchen stocked with everything necessary. Now, what do we have on the case so far?”
Dan spit into a Styrofoam cup, then motioned to an empty chair. “Take a load off, Cooper.”
Ridge eased into the seat, then looked back at Dan as he continued.
“Best we can tell, she died sometime between nine p.m. and two a.m. No apparent cause. No blood, wounds, or sign of strangulation. After the autopsy, we’ll know more. We talked to her husband and took his statement. Here’s a copy for you.” He pulled a single sheet from a manila folder and passed it to Ridge. “First, let me give you some background. The vic is Marlene Weston, Caucasian, forty-one years old. She was born and raised here and owned the local bank. Her husband Carl is the president.”
Already a red flag went up. The victim had money, so Ridge knew right where to start.
The sheriff rattled on. “Husband claims she left the house last night around seven headed to the church for a meeting. After that, she planned to go to the bank and take care of some paperwork. She checked in with him about eight. He goes to bed with the chickens and never woke until this morning.”
Dan rocked back in his chair, brought the cup to his mouth, and spit again. “He tried her cell, and when he didn’t get an answer, he drove downtown and found her car, but no sign of her. That’s when he called the police station to report something was wrong. It’s possible she died of natural causes, but with the location of the body and time of death, chances are, it isn’t.”
Ridge tried to speak, but the sheriff held up his hand. “Hold that thought. There’s my sister. I’ll be right back.” He stepped to the door as a car swung into the parking lot.
Bubba leaned forward and craned his neck.
Ridge set his eyes on the woman as she got out of the vehicle. He’d not given any thought to how his temporary landlord might look, but if he had, he wouldn’t have imagined her. Dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a bright red tee-shirt, the words Sweet Thangs, in pink glitter stretched across full, rounded breasts.
All three men rose, moved to the window, and watched as Dan patted her shoulder.
Chief Ramsey nudged Bubba. “Try to stay calm and not drool all over the place.”
Bubba heaved a deep breath. “That logo is in the right spot.”
The chief thumped the officer’s ear. “You watch your mouth. If Dan hears you talk like that, he’ll kick you all the way to Sunday.”
Bubba nodded in the woman’s direction. “She found the body.”
An odd sensation washed over Ridge at the possibility of her being involved in the case and his next-door neighbor. “I guess you’ve taken her statement. You got a copy?”
Chief Ramsey stepped to the desk, thumbed through the folder and handed a paper to Ridge. “Tizzy jogs every morning, and the cemetery is on her route.” Ramsey raised his brows and scrunched his face. “And as crazy as it sounds, she sometimes stops and chats with the—uh, residents. Today, she went through there at her usual time, about six, and that’s when she discovered the body. At first, she thought she was seeing things, but with closer inspection, she recognized Marlene.”
Ridge kept his gaze on her. “She seems calm for someone who found a corpse a few hours ago.”
“Tizzy thinks of the departed in a different way from you and me. She not only chats with them—sometimes, they chat back.”
Ridge jerked to face them. “You’re kidding, right?”
Both men shook their heads.
“You’re saying she talks to them, and they talk to her? Well, mystery solved. Let’s get her to ask them who did it. Surely, they witnessed something. What else are they doing other than lying around?” He smirked, unable to suppress his sarcasm.
Dan and Tizzy breezed in. Ridge tipped his hat. “I’m Texas Ranger Ridge Cooper. I understand you found the victim.”
She met his gaze with a slow flutter of her lashes and a sweet smile. “I know who you are, Trooper Cooper.” The Texas drawl flowed from her mouth like a lazy river. “Doesn’t take long for news to spread when a stranger arrives. I hope everything is satisfactory at Browning House. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
Flawless skin. Eyes like dark chocolate. His heart kicked up a notch.
Dan’s voice brought him back to reality. “Earl, pass me my spit cup, would you?”
Tizzy scowled and rested her hands on her hips. “Lord, Dan, I don’t understand how Mandy can tolerate kissing you after you chew that nasty stuff all day.”
“She focuses on the many fine qualities I possess and not this one little bad habit. She likes kissing me plenty.”
His sister cocked her head and rolled her eyes. “What qualities are we talking about exactly?�
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A grin curled his lips, and he nodded to emphasize each attribute. “Let’s see. I’m handsome, devoted, easy-going, passionate, a terrific father, wonderful husband, fantastic lover, and I work my butt off to rid the county of evildoers. I’d say she’s pretty damn lucky to have me, chewing tobacco and all.”
“I stand corrected.” She raised her hands in surrender.
Her brother narrowed his eyes. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re giving up too easy. What’s the deal?”
“No deal.” She shrugged. “You made me realize, you’re right and I’m wrong. Besides, I need to get back down to Sweet Thangs. The rush is about to start. Talk to you boys later.”
Bubba fumbled to open the door for her exit. “Tizzy, you know we’re not boys, we’re men.”
“Oh Bubba, you know what they say. You’re all little boys at heart. Your toys only get bigger.” She sashayed out.
Bubba stuck his hands in his pockets. “I can watch her leave all day.”
Dan gave him a poke. “Careful, Bubba.”
Ridge followed, calling after her. “Say, Miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your last name.”
Tizzy stopped, twirled to face him and propped her hip against her car. “Donovan, but call me Tizzy, everyone does. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, well, Miss Don—Tizzy, I thought we might return to the crime scene and go over what happened when you found the body. We have your statement, but sometimes if you retrace everything, you remember more. You know. Once you’re over the initial shock. I guess you were acquainted with the deceased. Can you tell me anything about her? Did she have enemies? Somebody who disliked her?”
“She had people who didn’t like her. That’s for sure.”
“Could you give me a list?” Sunlight reflected off the glittery writing on her shirt and caught his attention. He quickly averted his eyes.
“Sure. There’s a local phone book in your bedside table. That’s your list.”
He couldn’t figure this woman out. “You’re saying nobody liked her? Does that include you? I understand she owned the bank.”
