by Carol Culver
The place was jumping. The noise level was in the high decibel range. Everyone was milling around. I edged my way through the crowd to find Grannie.
“I’ve got to get back to the shop,” I said. “I hate to close up in the afternoon like this.”
“You don’t want your customers to go away disappointed,” she said. “But thanks for coming.” I could tell her mind was elsewhere.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing how pale she was. “You’re not afraid of Sam, are you?”
“The question is—Is he afraid of me?”
I managed a little chuckle. Then I quickly sobered up. “What do you mean?”
“He asked me to come to the police station tomorrow morning. He wants to ask me some questions.”
“That’s nothing to worry about. He’s asking everyone questions. That’s why he’s coming over here to set up shop.”
“But my interview isn’t here. Mine’s at the station. I’m the only one. You know why? He’s got a lie detector there.” She gave a little shudder. “He suspects me of murdering Mary.”
I tried to chuckle again at this laughable idea, but instead I choked. I caught my breath and said, “If he’s got a lie detector, you’ll pass with flying colors and that will be the end of it. Of course, you’ll tell him everything you know. He’ll give you a medal for bravery and full disclosure and you’ll be out of there in no time, free as a bird.”
We walked out to the parking lot together. I don’t know if she was reassured because she didn’t say anything for a long moment. When we got to the classic wagon she’d driven for years, she ran her manicured hand absently over the hood. She insisted she didn’t miss driving. Heavenly Acres had a van to take the residents anywhere they wanted to go and that was just fine with her. But I thought I saw a gleam of nostalgia in her eyes as she stroked the surface of the vehicle she’d loved.
Suddenly she frowned as if she’d just remembered what we were talking about. “Weren’t you listening?” she asked, her gaze fixed on mine. “Didn’t you hear him telling us to rat on each other? Everything I’ve ever said about Mary, and believe me I’ve been critical of her, to her face and behind her face, will come out in the wash. Not just what I’ve said about her Bridge playing but other things. I’ll be in chains before you know it.”
“Chains?”
“Whatever they put you in, I’ll be there. I may have even said I’d like to kill her.”
“Given how unpopular she was, you can’t be the only one.”
She stared at me for a long moment. “So all I have to do is find out who else wanted her dead. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not at all,” I assured her, afraid she’d be off on a witch hunt. “If he’s as smart as we expect from a Chief of Police, he’ll soon find out you didn’t do it and he’ll discover the real perpetrator,” I said softly with a glance over my shoulder. “You’re a competitor, but you’d never go that far to win.” I stifled the urge to add, Would you?
She didn’t say anything and the look on her face didn’t assuage my fears that there was something she wasn’t telling me.
“There is no need to feel guilty,” I said firmly. “Or take responsibility for solving this crime. Sure, you upset Mary, but you didn’t kill her.”
Or did she? Did she cause the stroke that killed Mary? What did kill Mary? How did he or she do it without anyone noticing until she slumped over at the Bridge table?
“I can’t help it,” she said. “You should have heard what Sam said to me.”
I wanted to say, I did hear what he said to you, but I couldn’t admit to eavesdropping.
“All you have to do is tell the truth tomorrow,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“The truth is I wanted Mary out of the way because I didn’t want any competition at the state tournament. Is that what you want me to say?”
“Not in those words. Because while he’ll probably learn you were rivals, that doesn’t mean you’ve been anything except a serious competitor. All you’ve ever done is to play with your whole heart, just like you used to bake pies. You always put your full self into what you’re doing. That’s no crime.”
“I’m glad someone is so sure,” she said.
I got in the car and she leaned down to face me from outside the open window. “One of my friends will bring me down tomorrow and I’ll come by the shop after my interview.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. But I wasn’t sure about that. I wished it was just an interview, but if he was hooking her up to a polygraph, then it was more than an interview. I’d heard a lie detector machine was a psychological tool for exacting confessions the way torture was in the olden days. And it gave me the chills.
I drove away, and when I looked in the rearview mirror she was still standing in the parking lot staring straight ahead and looking thoughtful. Was she thinking about her “interview,” or who else wanted Mary dead, or her chances at winning the Bridge tournament, or, much better, the man who was giving her the eye at the meeting just now?
_____
As I crushed graham crackers in the blender for a pie crust the next morning, I wondered how far my grandmother would go to win at Bridge. Had she verbally attacked her rival hoping to provoke a reaction that would throw Mrs. Brandt off her game? That wasn’t a crime. If she was cheating, it was time someone called her on it. Did Grannie really want her out of the way? If she did, she probably wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t help worrying about her. My wonderful, warm, caring grandmother was not a murderer. In a few hours she would take a lie detector test, she’d pass with flying colors, and Sam would turn his attention elsewhere and we could all relax. All of us except the real killer, who would fade into the woodwork now that Mary was gone. It might be one of those unsolved mysteries, or Sam would find the murderer after a brilliant investigation and we could all sleep better once the arrest was made.
I pictured a time in the near future when the seniors and other residents of Crystal Cove would drop in to my shop for coffee and pie regularly. And while in the shop, I’d overhear comments about the Chief of Police. I had to admit I was curious about his life. What had happened to him between when he dropped out of high school and now? Even if Sam never came into my shop, and I only ran into him by chance, I might find out from my customers what he was really up to. Had he done a complete turnaround? Or was this an act? Or a secret undercover assignment?
It seemed obvious that Mary couldn’t be the first resident in her age group to be struck down and die in a hospital. There must be a protocol for such events that included an investigation if the family requested or the coroner had reason to think this was murder. What was in the coroner’s report? The method of her murder? And who did the family believe was out to get Mary? Or did they just dismiss her as an old lady with paranoia?
While I was simmering the mixture on the stove for a chocolate marshmallow pie, I thought about how much I owed my grandmother, not just for giving me the chance at a new life, but for filling in for years and giving me a home when my parents were living out of the country.
She was finally getting a chance to enjoy life and by heaven, I wasn’t going to let any overzealous small-town Chief of Police try to pin a murder on her. No matter how eager he was to solve the first murder in years and make a name for himself in this bucolic seaside paradise. Which is probably why he’d come to this town anyway, where there was no crime, or practically none. How else would he justify his being in a town where nothing happens except to make a quick arrest of some helpless senior citizen who wished her Bridge nemesis was out of the picture?
I tried not to think about getting old and dying of natural or unnatural causes, whether it was at Heavenly Acres or the Poor House. Instead, I concentrated on my pie. After I’d put it together and it was cooling in the fridge, I wrote “Special Today Only—S’Mores Pie” on a blackboard and leaned it against a tree outside on the sidewalk. Then I hung an “Open” sign on my front doo
r, ever hopeful that today would be the day I would ring up a lot of sales. It was eight thirty in the morning, and I’d been up for three hours. Baker’s hours.
I walked out in front of the shop several times looking for Grannie. I noticed a classic Mercedes parked in front of the station. Maybe that was her friend’s car. Maybe she was in there right now hooked up to the lie detector. I couldn’t concentrate on anything until I heard she’d come through the test okay. Finally, she showed up with her friend. She was beautifully dressed as usual, in a tailored flowered shirt, a navy blazer, a matching skirt, and comfortable walking shoes.
“How did it go?” I asked anxiously. I didn’t like the way she looked. When I put my arm around her shoulders, she felt small and vulnerable. Damn that Sam. What had he done to her?
“It was terrible,” she said collapsing into a chair.
I immediately poured her a cup of coffee and cut her a piece of S’Mores Pie. I sat down across from her. “What do you mean? What did he ask you?”
“Everything,” she said. “Have you ever had a lie detector test?”
I shook my head.
“Well, first they ask you things like ‘Did you ever lie to get out of trouble?’ I said yes, because you know, everyone has. Then a bunch of other questions that seem easy, but they’re there to trick you.”
“So you knew what to say,” I said slightly relieved.
“The important thing is to believe what you say,” she said.
“Well then,” I said. “If you did, I’m sure the machine will back you up.”
“Then why did he tell me not to leave town?”
I bit my lip. That wasn’t good news. “I … I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t know, to corroborate others’ stories or just more questions. The police always say that. Sam’s seen too many movies. Don’t worry. It’s nothing personal, I’m sure.” But I wasn’t sure at all.
“There’s only one thing I can do to clear my name,” she said. “And that’s to find the real murderer.”
“But that’s Sam’s job,” I protested. I pictured her setting up a rival investigation to his. I imagined her poking into the private lives of her fellow residents, which wouldn’t win her any points in life or in Bridge.
“You’d think so,” she said. “But after today, I can’t count on that. And neither should you. He’s out to get me, Hanna. And I have to stop him.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she wasn’t in any mood to listen to me, so I closed it. If Sam was really out to get her, I couldn’t let that happen. How could she, a senior citizen under suspicion, stop him? I’m the one who had to take action.
“There’s my ride,” she said, glancing out the window as the Mercedes pulled up. I tried to see who the driver was, wondering, was it Grannie’s new boyfriend?
“What about your pie and coffee?”
“I couldn’t eat a thing. Not with so much on my mind. Besides …” She looked at her watch. “I have a Yoga class at eleven. Believe me I need some deep breathing and relaxation exercises after what I’ve been through.”
Before I could stop her she lifted her chin, stood up straight, and walked out of the shop. Not for the first time, I was in awe of her gumption. She’d been through a lot in her life—building a business, raising me, dealing with an ex-husband—but this was the first time anyone had accused her of murder. I shouldn’t be surprised that she wasn’t taking this lying down. The old car had barely pulled away with her in it when Sam came to the shop.
“Officer Genovese,” I said, trying to stay calm and imitate Grannie’s gracious hostess voice and formal manner even though I was seething with anger. I tried but I just couldn’t do it. My manners crumpled like a collapsed soufflé. “How dare you accuse my grandmother of murder!” I demanded.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I gave her a lie detector test. That’s all.”
“The implication is that you suspect her. Do you or don’t you?”
“I suspect everyone who had dealings with Mary Brandt. Your grandmother is one of those people.”
“How many are getting tested?”
“That’s confidential.”
I exhaled loudly. I decided it was time to switch gears. Who was it who said you can catch more flies with honey?
“How about a cup of coffee on this cool morning along with a slice of tropical key lime pie?” I was proud of myself for turning on what I hoped was the charm. I was going for something between polite and effusive.
A hint of a knowing smile touched his lips as if he knew what I was going through. The Sam I used to know would have had a sarcastic reply. He would have made fun of my turning into my grandmother. The Sam who stood in my shop said, “Sure, why not?” so casually I did a double take. I expected him to turn me down flat.
I went to the kitchen, cut a slice of key lime pie, one of my personal favorites that reminded me of a vacation in the Florida sun where I’d gone on a rare trip with my usually absent parents.
After I set the pie on the table, I stood in front of the counter, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched him eat. I’d be damned if I’d break the silence.
“Very good,” he said after a few bites. He set his fork down. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course.” I tried to act normal but my stomach was in knots. I should be glad he hadn’t hooked me up to his lie detector. It was only because I didn’t fit his description of someone who’d had dealings with Mary Brandt. “I’m not busy at the moment. I wish I was busy, but unfortunately business is a little slow these days. As you know, it’s a very quiet town. Or it was.”
“Is that why you left?” he asked. “Or should I ask why you came back?”
“That is why I left. I thought life was too slow, too boring and quiet for me here. I wanted to get out and live an exciting life in a big city where things happened and no one knew me. No one knew I was raised by my grandmother, that I lived above a pie shop and spent my free time working in the shop after school or doing my homework.”
“I understand that,” he said. “I felt the same way. I had to get out. Somewhere where no one knew I was kicked out of high school or that my parents were deadbeats. At least you had support. You weren’t on your own from early on.”
“No, but I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be Louise Denton’s granddaughter, the serious nerdy girl who studied all the time to get on the honor roll. I wanted to be the popular cheerleader kind of girl or a goth. But I was neither.” I smiled ruefully at the thought of it.
“You were never nerdy,” he said with a long sideways look at me that made my toes curl. Even now, more than fifteen years later, it all came back to me as if it was yesterday. Every word he’d ever said to me, and there weren’t very many, were engraved in my subconscious. I thought I’d forgotten, I wished I’d forgotten, but I hadn’t.
“I was. You just don’t remember.”
“I remember you,” he said. “I remember prom night.”
I swallowed hard. I would have thought he’d have forgotten. Of course I hadn’t, being the girl who wanted to be hip but never was.
“I never thanked you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For what you did,” I said.
“For telling the truth?”
“Yes. It couldn’t have been easy.” I knew that and I always wished I’d had the chance to speak to him.
He shrugged. I hoped we could drop the subject. It was painful reliving that embarrassing scene after the prom when my date ran out on me. It was downright humiliating even now. I didn’t want to know why Sam did what he did or why he left town so fast. I didn’t want him to know how often I’d thought about it. How often I’d thought about him. Instead I answered his other question. Sort of.
“Why did I come back? Why not? As you know, Crystal Cove is as close to paradise as you can get. You said it yourself, we have the hills and the ocean, the sandy beaches and the safe streets.” I emphasized the word safe. “What’s not to like? Besides, m
y grandmother wanted to retire. I’d done the big-city thing, lived in an apartment, had an office job, went to singles’ bars at night until all that got old. I was ready for a change. I also really like baking pies. It’s a job and it’s challenging, but there’s no desk, no time clock, and no boss, so it seems more like … I don’t know … a hobby or a habit. Anyway, here I am.”
I stood there brushing my hands against my apron while he looked around the shop until he finally focused on me and looked at me, really looked as if he could see the girl behind the woman behind the apron. He was waiting for me to go on, as if he wanted to know more. But I wasn’t about to tell him or anybody what stupid thing I’d done. I just wanted to put it behind me and keep it buried in the past.
“There isn’t much more to know,” I added, hoping to put a cap on this discussion. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me as if maybe I was still hiding something.
“What about you?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Why show up in Crystal Cove after all these years?” He probably wouldn’t tell me, but I just had to ask, especially since we were both pretending he didn’t suspect my grandmother of murder. “Isn’t it boring for a law man to be back in the small town where nothing ever happens except for old people dying?” I waited for him to tell me she didn’t just die, she was murdered. But he didn’t. I waited for him to explain his assignment was some kind of punishment for letting a mobster get away or speeding on the freeway in his sports car. Knowing Sam, he’d have an explanation. But he didn’t do that either.
“It’s not boring,” he insisted. “Not at all. I went to the Police Academy in San Francisco, worked on the streets for a few years. Then this job came up so I took it.”
“What was it like being a street cop?” I asked.
“Fine, until things go wrong. Until your partner gets killed on your day off.” He stared off into space with a look on his face I’d never seen before. His lips were pressed together, and his jaw looked like it was locked in place.
