by Carol Culver
Finally, when there was a break, I went to the kitchen and borrowed a knife to cut my pies into slices, since no one else was doing it. Lindsey came into the kitchen, flushed with the success of her party or too many margaritas in salty-rimmed special glasses. “Isn’t this fun?” she asked.
I assured her it was a fabulous party, then I asked if she had a tray so I could serve the pie.
“Of course,” she said and reached into her well-stocked dish cabinet for a beautiful bone china Royal Doulton tray. Armed with a selection of both the blueberry and the sexy chocolate pies cut in small pieces and served with small forks, I went back to the party. Working the room, hoping to get a chance to talk murder or at least to hear compliments, I stopped and handed a piece of blueberry pie to Melissa, Blake’s sister, who was a younger version of her blond mother.
“I love all your pies,” she gushed. “I had some of each at the memorial service.”
“How is the family holding up?” I asked.
“Pretty well,” she said. Her voice was a little unsteady and the glass in her hand even less so. How many of those little drinks had she had? “You know my grandmother had a good long, long, very long life. She was quite a character.” I nodded. How could I disagree? “She will be missed,” Melissa added. Only she said “mithed” instead of missed.
Now was the time to pump her, when she was not in complete control. I thought of the Bridge group and of the women I’d overheard in the kitchen the day of the memorial service. They’d “mith” her all right.
“I didn’t know her,” I said, “but I hear she was …” My mind went blank. What can you say about a woman who seemed to have no friends except perhaps her Bridge partner, Donna, and who knew how she really felt? Note to self. Talk to Donna. Talk to everyone at Heavenly Acres, which was what Sam was doing. But they might tell me things they wouldn’t tell a cop. Finally I said, “Amazing. She must have been quite a lady.”
“You can say that again,” Melissa said. “I can’t believe she’s dead. Honestly we all thought she’d live forever. In fact, whenever we suggested her making a will or disposing of her valuables, she assured us she would live forever.” She laughed a little too loudly.
I smiled politely. “She must have changed her mind.”
“About living forever?” Melissa asked with another chortle, forking a piece of blueberry pie into her mouth at the same time.
“I mean about making a will. Your brother Blake said he was hanging around for the formal reading next week. Although isn’t that something that only happens in the movies?”
“Probably. My mother could tell you that. She’s a huge movie fan. She’s the one who insisted Gram make a will. She sent her own lawyer up to Heavenly Acres to make sure Gram did it right. And that we all got what is coming to us. And what thanks does she get? The police think she killed Gram. Her own mother.”
I blinked rapidly, partly in surprise and partly because I had so little eyelash left.
“Of course, Gram gave the lawyer a hard time, and told him she planned on taking it all with her.” Again she laughed. “Even her jewelry, which she promised me as her only granddaughter.”
“Lucky you,” I said. What did she mean? Acres of diamonds? Or just a keepsake brooch only of sentimental value? “She must have had a good sense of humor,” I suggested. “Which you’ve inherited.” It was so hard to find something good to say about Mary.
“You think so? You didn’t know her. That part about taking it with her? She was serious. You know something?”
I shook my head. I don’t know anything, I wanted to say. That’s why I’m here.
“She would have loved this party. She was quite the sexpot up at the old people’s home there. She told me that sex was wasted on the young. What do you make of that?” She jabbed me in the ribs with her free hand.
What I made of it was that maybe Bob wasn’t her only boyfriend. I would have to ask Grannie. Or that I really must give Bob a closer look as a suspect. Melissa took a big slug of her margarita. I told myself to dig deeper, get her to pull the rug out from under her guilty mother.
“Hope your mom gets more than the family jewels,” I said frankly, hoping she was too drunk to think me rude.
“Oh, she will,” Melissa said with a wink. “She’s depressed now, but once this investigation is over, the murderer is found, and we get what’s coming to us, she’ll snap out of it. Don’t worry about her.”
I assured her I wouldn’t worry about her mother. But I sure wished I could interview her. Fat chance of that. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who would have wanted to murder your grandmother,” I said, hoping she’d continue to say what was on her mind.
“It’s too horrible to think about.”
“Someone thought about it,” I suggested.
Her eyes widened. Maybe I’d finally crossed the line. I couldn’t worry about manners, not when murder was on the table. “Of course, thinking about killing someone is one thing, but that doesn’t mean you’d actually do it,” Melissa said. “Let’s put it this way. I can’t say anyone in the family is shedding any tears. Not my brother Blake—he hardly knew her. We hardly know him anymore since he moved to New York. He’s a real player.”
“Hmmm,” I murmured. Of course Blake was a player. But a very attractive one at that. The perfect kind of guy for a girl who didn’t want to get seriously involved.
“My grandmother was a handful,” Melissa continued. “Always calling my mom asking her for something. Always ragging on my dad for not making enough money, never good enough for mom.” Melissa took another big bite of pie and chewed slowly. “This is delicious,” she said. “How’s the pie business going?”
“Picking up nicely,” I said as I digested this bit of information about her parents and their relationship to the deceased.
“Everyone loved them at Gram’s memorial service. Too bad it was cut short when the ambulance arrived. How is that man doing, the old geezer who passed out that day?”
“He’s better. A minor heart attack, but he should be fine.”
“Gram liked him a lot. But she said somebody else was mooching on her territory. And she wasn’t going to put up with that. Just as well, because he was suffering from some fatal disease so of course when the ambulance came we all thought …” She shook her head as if she couldn’t bear to say the word dead or died.
“He must be in remission,” I said. After I realized I’d probably gotten as much as possible from Melissa, I moved on, passing out pieces of pie and gracefully accepting compliments, glad that I had cards to hand out “The Upper Crust. 25 Ocean Avenue, Crystal Cove, California. Pies for every occasion. So warm, so welcome. Dangerously Delicious. We ship everywhere.”
Of course I’d never shipped a pie anywhere, but there was bound to be a first.
I wondered how much money the old lady had now that I realized that Blake, Melissa, and their mother were all waiting anxiously for the distribution of her estate. Maybe all Melissa wanted was her jewelry for sentimental reasons. I tried to think about anything else the assistant in the kitchen had said about the earrings. Had Mary given away other pieces too? If so, Melissa wasn’t going to be happy about that.
A few hours later, I walked out of the party with Kate. My empty pie pans were in the basket and my party favors in my purse.
“Now aren’t you glad you came?” she asked. “I saw you talking to Melissa. She didn’t look devastated by the loss of her grandmother tonight or at the memorial service. Is she a suspect?”
“I don’t think so, although she said she wanted Mary’s jewelry.”
“She told you?”
“People open up and talk when they’ve had a few margaritas.”
“You might suggest that to our police chief,” Kate said, “liquoring up the suspects.” Then she tripped over a brick in the walkway and grabbed my arm for support.
“Watch it,” I said. “How many drinks did you have?”
“I lost count, but they were mostly
lime juice, I think.”
“Do you want a ride home? I think I’m more sober than you are.”
“I can drive,” she insisted.
“Better watch out. I’d hate to see Sam cite you for DUI.”
“You’d get me off with a warning, wouldn’t you? After all, you’re his friend.”
“Hah. I’m afraid I have no influence with him. Remember, I offered to help him solve Mary’s murder, but he turned me down.”
“So you’re totally off the case?”
“With my grandmother as a chief suspect? I’m on the case in every way possible, only I’m strictly undercover. Speaking of which, I’m invited by Sam or rather commanded to appear at the police station to ‘see something,’ whatever that means. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it must be important to drag me from my place of work. Of course, anything I can do to help, right? Could you spare some time in the afternoon so I can do some undercover detecting up at Heavenly Acres? I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Sure. In exchange for a couple hours of babysitting? Jack and I need a night out.”
“And a chance to try out your new sex toys,” I suggested with a nudge of my elbow.
I’d be happy to babysit. After all, I had nothing to do in the evenings. But I needed some time during the day, and I couldn’t leave the shop closed twice in one day. Hanging a “Closed” sign on the door discourages business.
She didn’t bother to answer so I said, “It’s a deal.”
_____
At nine the next morning I was ready to go in a pair of wide-leg cotton pants, a gauze tunic top, and flip-flops. My casual attire was meant to indicate this was no big deal and not worth the trouble to dress up. Just another day of interrogation in Paradise.
Sam was the only one there. I imagined his deputies were out patrolling the hills above town or helping old ladies cross the street. He took me into a small room and we sat down at a table with a control panel facing a small screen.
“How was the party?” he asked.
“Fine. If you’re in the market for lubricants, vibrators, condoms, erotic books, or videos, it was definitely the place to be.”
“Learn anything?” he asked.
“About sex toys or Mary Brandt?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Either.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to let you know,” I said. Why should I share my info with him? He’d discredit it as being biased or take it and use it like he’d uncovered it.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Now I want to show you what we picked up on our surveillance camera at Heavenly Acres.”
“Where from, the parking lot? The front lobby?”
“The card room.”
I felt a chill run up my spine. What was I going to see? I gave him a tight smile and said, “Is it on all the time?”
“Unfortunately, no. It seems one or some of the residents knew about it and turned it off at will. But we do have some footage from the day Mary Brandt died. Which you may be interested in.”
“I’m sure I will. Did the accounts by the residents match up with what actually occurred?” I asked, trying not to sound overly concerned. Which I was.
“More or less. The interesting part is what happened before the Bridge game during which Mary Brandt collapsed.”
“Ah.”
He started the video. The camera panned across an empty card room. A woman entered the room. She was wearing fitted slacks, a sweater, and pearls. A popular combination. Almost a uniform. It could have been anybody’s grandmother—mine, Blake’s, whoever. I leaned forward. She had her back to the camera. She went to one of the tables, took a small item out of her pocket, and set it on the table. Sam stopped the machine and zoomed in on the table. The item was a pill bottle.
“Recognize that?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Recognize her?”
I shrugged. He turned the video back on. The woman looked around the room, rather furtively I thought. Then she looked up straight at the camera. I swallowed hard. It was Grannie. She reached up and there was a click and the screen went black.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I told Sam. “Grannie substituted some strong medicine for Mary to get rid of her. But hear me out. Grannie takes pep pills—I’m not sure exactly what they are, but they sharpen her wits. But she’s embarrassed to admit she needs any help. After all, she’s been a Bridge fanatic for forty years. So I’m thinking she came early to put her pills at her place for the game.”
“Then why turn off the camera?”
“I told you, she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s taking anything. It’s a badge of honor to be pill-free at her age. Ask her.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She said she doesn’t take anything.”
“There you go,” I said with a relieved smile. “I told you she wouldn’t admit it.”
“She was under oath. I have to take her at her word. I have to assume those were the pills that killed Mary Brandt.”
My heart sank, at least that’s what it felt like. My grandmother had screwed herself out of pride. Did she even know it, or was Sam just waiting to pounce and arrest her?
“Did she see this video?”
“Not yet. I wanted to give you a chance to talk her into confessing.”
“To what? Being a competitive card player? To being a kind, loving grandmother?”
He shook his head. “You know what I mean. Tell her to come down to the station, confess to killing Mary Brandt, and maybe we can work something out.”
“Like what?”
“Reduced sentence for a confession.”
I choked back the desire to snap “No way.” Instead I said, “What’s the alternative?”
“I arrest her at the residence, read her her rights, and take her away. That’s what the DA advises.”
I stood and glared at him. “You’ve told the DA about my grandmother?”
“I had to. I’ve got a murder here. Somebody has to pay.”
“Well it’s not going to be my grandmother. Give me forty-eight hours and I’ll find your killer.”
“Hanna, you’re looking for trouble. You’re vulnerable, you know. Look what happened already. You could have been blown away by the oven disaster.”
“It was an accident. The oven has been fine for fifty years. Nothing lasts that long without a problem or two.”
“Not only that, this is my job. I forbid you to try to help in this investigation. I’ll handle it.”
“I see the way you’re handling it, and I don’t like it,” I said. “And if you think you’re going to run for mayor of this town, you’d better watch out …”
“Why, you won’t vote for me?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from exploding like my oven, then I turned and marched out of the room, out of the station, and across the street. I was so furious I almost ran into the mailman on his bicycle.
The rest of the day I spent thinking of how I’d absolve Grannie of the murder and how I’d run Sam out of town. By four o’clock when Kate came to relieve me, I’d helped the cleaning crew scrub down the whole kitchen and baked four pies. I was acting like I’d taken some of Grannie’s uppers. Which is what I sincerely hoped had been in that pillbox.
“You look awful,” I said to Kate, noting her pale face and red-rimmed eyes. “I told you not to drink so much.”
“At least I’ve got eyelashes,” she countered. “In my case having a few margaritas was worth it.” She pressed her fingers against her temples. “You have to admit last night was a lot of fun. Besides, you got some good PR, word of mouth, pie in mouth. Here’s your copy of my article.”
I scanned the section titled “Personalities” and skimmed the article, which was studded with words like mouth-watering, upscale, all occasions, funerals, and weddings.
“It’s a good picture of you,” she said. “You look cute.”
“Compared to what? The Pillsbury Dough B
oy?” I was determined to say nothing about my visit to the police station. So I changed the subject. “Hey, did you ever hear who was that woman with the cupcakes? Speaking of mysteries, there’s one I have to solve.”
“The one in the pink frou-frou dress, who looked like a cupcake herself ? I don’t know her name, but they sure were good. I had a peanut butter with chocolate ganache frosting and a passion fruit. Get it? Passion fruit?”
“I get it,” I assured her. “Were they as good as my pie?” I knew she’d tell me my pie was better. Then why did I ask? A bout of insecurity.
“Different. I hear she does cupcake decorating parties. Like the sex toy parties only … different.”
“I could do pie parties. Sell pans and rolling pins and everybody takes home a pie that we bake in the shop. But then everyone would start baking their own pies and stop buying mine.”
“Good point.” She didn’t seem as enthusiastic as my personal public relations agent should be.
“Actually I had a few calls today,” I said. “A couple of solid orders, and other people calling to ask how much the pies cost and so forth.”
“So leave me a price list with your specialties so I won’t sound clueless.”
I showed her where the list was, and I grabbed a pie and my swimsuit so I could join water aerobics with Grannie.
I noticed the official squad car in the Heavenly Acres parking lot, which must mean Sam was there conducting his interviews. No doubt hoping to cement his case against Grannie. Next to the black and white police car was a refinished postal van. It was painted silver and hot pink with a “Lurline’s Luscious Cupcakes” sign on the door. Lurline. Was she the cupcake woman at the sex toy party? What was she doing there? I peeked in the window of the truck and saw cardboard boxes stacked behind the driver’s seat. Empty or filled with Luscious cupcakes? I went in through the front door wondering where the cupcake lady was and how Sam’s interviews were going. I knew Grannie was waiting for me in her room, so I didn’t stop to ask questions.
“How do you like my new suit?” Grannie asked, turning slowly in the middle of her living room, one hand on her hip to show off her still-shapely body poured into a one-piece black maillot.
