Cherry Pie or Die

by CeeCee James

  “Oh, wow!” I said, accepting the bag. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the basement. She must have forgotten it in the horror of that night.” Her lips turned down sadly. “I almost sent it home with two of your guests who just left the station. But they were so chummy together, I didn’t want to disturb them. Besides, I thought I’d better give it to you personally.”

  “Chummy? Who just left?”

  “That one young woman left with the tall man.”

  I nodded. That must have been Sarah and Mr. Peterson.

  An officer called Mrs. Stilton to the back room. I waved as she left, and headed out to the van.

  As I was leaving the building, the St. Claires arrived, accompanied by a rather somber-looking man.

  “Nice day for an interview,” I said teasingly. I shouldn’t have said it—needling Mr. St. Claire like that—but that entitlement of his irked me. I was rewarded with a sour look from Mr. St. Claire.

  All righty, then. At least I didn’t have to deal with them for too much longer. Once in the van, I sent a text to Eliza Sue, letting her know where I was, and then searched up the wheat penny that Sheriff Parker had mentioned.

  The browser opened to images of the penny. I’d seen the coin before, but he was right. It had been a long time.

  My phone buzzed with a text, letting me know Eliza Sue was on her way out.

  Perfect timing. I was ready to get out of here. And after looking at all those pies, I was starving.

  She opened the passenger door and climbed in with a sigh.

  “How’d it go?” I asked, trying to read her body language.

  “Fine. But I swear, I’m more tired than I’ve been in a long time.” The fortyish-year-old woman’s face attested to that exhaustion, looking like a flower in desperate need of watering.

  “I hear you. Well, I don’t know about you, Ms. Eliza Sue, but I’m ready for some food. Want to go get something to eat?”

  She glanced at me as if wondering if I were trying to trick her.

  “You want to go out to eat? Why?” She honestly appeared puzzled.

  “Well, because I’m hungry. Aren’t you? Let’s just go grab a bite. We don’t have to talk about anything serious.”

  She studied me, the lines between her eyebrows deepening. Her nostrils widened as she exhaled. Finally, she nodded, almost as if I were offering her a punishment.

  I frowned at her reaction. “You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. I can just drop you back at the bed and breakfast.”

  “A body’s got to eat, doesn’t it?” She buckled up. “And mine’s in the mood for tacos.”

  I laughed and started Old Bella up. “Sounds good to me. I know just the place. There’s a taco truck down by the car dealership on the west end of town.”

  We drove through the historical part of Gainesville.

  “You see that building over there?” I pointed.

  She looked and nodded.

  “They used to sell everything. And one of the things they sold was overalls. The thickest denim overalls you’ve ever seen. They were practically indestructible. My grandma loved them. I swear that’s all I wore clear through the fifth grade.”

  “Really?” She giggled.

  “Yeah.”

  “What changed in sixth grade?”

  “Boys,” I said simply. “I noticed boys and I saw that overalls was like an invisibility cloak. One I didn’t want any more.”

  She chuckled again.

  I turned onto a side street. After following that for a few blocks, we came to the more commercial side of town. The modern businesses were housed in buildings built in a mock appearance of the 1800’s. I loved how our town did everything to preserve its historical flavor.

  Outside the grocery store—built out of red brick and a long awning—was the taco truck. This sat on an open gravel area off to the side of the store’s parking lot. There were three picnic benches next to it under portable awnings. The tables were partially filled. One only had a single customer, so Eliza Sue and I took our tacos over.

  We sat down on opposite sides of the picnic table. The other person gave us a smile before looking down at her phone. I unwrapped my food while Eliza Sue took a sip of her soda. She glanced around for a moment, before saying, “You know, this is only my second vacation in my adult life.”

  “What?” I’d just taken a big bite and hurriedly chewed.

  “I mean it,” she answered. “I was the head assistant at an accounting business for the last seventeen years.”

  “They didn’t give you vacation?”

  She shrugged. Her shoulders rounded and brought to my mind a pack animal that had been worked too long.

  “They did. I just didn’t want vacation.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “It’s easy for you to ask that,” she snapped. “You’re cute. Well liked. You have people around you all the time. I have no one. So it didn’t seem like too much fun to sit at home for a week staring at the same four walls that I came to work to escape.”

  I took a sip of my soda, not wanting to respond until the sting of her comment faded. She didn’t think I could understand loneliness?

  Derek came to mind.

  A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed. Not today, and not in front of her. She wasn’t worthy of my true feelings.

  “So what did you do on your first vacation?” I asked as way of distraction.

  She’d just taken a bite and cupped her hand over her mouth as she chewed. After a moment, she answered, “I went to Tampa, Florida. That was my first time out of state.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too much skin showing. Of all ages.”

  “Where are you from again?”

  “New Jersey,” she said. She carefully plucked a piece of lettuce from the front of her shirt.

  “This vacation hasn’t been that great either, huh?” I said.

  “Oh, it was fine, up until Mr. Green died.” She looked at me. “Although I think Rachel is faking it.”

  My mouth feel open. “Faking what?”

  “Her grief. That woman was about as into her husband as a vegan into a greasy hamburger. He repelled her, I swear.”

  I could hardly believe she said that. So coldly, like she hadn’t actually been comforting the woman last night and this morning. And bringing her clothes. What was going on?

  “I’m really surprised to hear you say that,” I said, trying to carefully pick my words. “You seemed incredibly supportive this morning.” I tried my best to keep cool, but it was hard. This was striking too close to home for me.

  She sighed. “When you get to be my age you realize people have two sides. One side they want to pretend they are, and the other which is who they really are. Rachel wants to be a shocked, grieving widow. She’s doing her best to play that part. But you weren’t around at night to see the way they talked to each other. He obviously chose her to be his trophy wife. And she was a gold digger. You know what they say about gold diggers? You marry for money, you pay for the rest of your life.” She took another sip of her soda.

  I blinked hard. “How do you know all of this. And if you thought it, why would you be nice to her?”

  “Well, I wanted to give her a chance. After all, I don’t know her. Just basing my opinions on what I heard. He really wasn’t kind to her. Every morning was the same thing. He’d say, ‘You’re going to wear that? Don’t wear that. Go put on the pink shirt I got you. You’re going to eat that?’ And then there’s what happened the night before our tour.”

  I almost didn’t want to ask, because I didn’t want to encourage her line of thought. But curiosity got to me. “What happened the night before?”

  “They got into the most horrific argument. You know how my room is right next to theirs. Well, I could hear every word. He was screaming.” She shivered.

  “Screaming what?”

  Eliza Sue glanced to the side to see if the girl at the end of the table was paying attention. Then she leaned over and whispered,
“He said, ‘I told you no kids. That was the rule.’ And then she started crying.”

  “And?” I held my breath.

  “And he said, ‘It’s not mine. You know that.’”

  My back stiffened. “’It’s not mine,’ like…”

  “Exactly.” Eliza Sue raised her eyebrows. “Have you seen her eat anything lately?”

  I frowned, remembering the comment she’d made at my house about how little she’d eaten that day. Obviously, no one could expect her to eat with the shock and grief. A loss of appetite was normal. I remember barely eating for two weeks after Derek died. “No, but after what happened…”

  “Grieving, right?” She smirked. “It gives a good excuse to not eat. Which is helpful when you don’t want to explain morning sickness.” She took another bite and calmly waited for my response.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “And you heard Mr. Green say it wasn’t his.”

  “About a million times. Shouted it practically from the rafters. But I have an idea whose it is.” Her eyes glinted mischievously.

  “Who?”

  She shrugged coyly and kept chewing. Seriously? She was going to drop that bomb and not tell me?

  “Did she admit she was pregnant?”

  “No. Mr. Green said they’d be taking a test when they got back. And if it was positive, it was over. He wanted a divorce. He was very clear about that. ‘Two pink lines means your meal ticket is over, Missy. It’s back to waitressing for you.’”

  I thought about Rachel, blonde and beautiful, all bedecked in her Fendi wallet, Birkin bag, and Louis Vuitton shoes. That would be a hard step down for her to take.

  But, with the life insurance, now it would be a step she wouldn’t have to take.

  Chapter 13

  I turned down Baker Street, relieved to be back at the bed and breakfast. Lunch had been informative, but I was ready for a break.

  “You have any plans for today?” I asked Eliza Sue, after I parked.

  She opened the door. “No, I think I’m due for a little nap. But I want you to think about what I said.”

  Watching her climb out jolted my memory. “Hey, I have something for you.”

  “Yeah? What is it?” she asked. The suspicious cast came to her eyes again.

  “Your jacket and water bottle. Mrs. Stilton gave them to me at the station.” I reached into the back seat for the bag.

  Seeing the bag, her face broke into a huge smile. “Oh, my goodness! I forgot about it with the craziness of that night. My favorite water bottle, actually. I got it from my boss on my fifteen-year anniversary there.”

  I passed the bag over.

  “Hi, Georgie,” a voice called from the porch.

  I glanced up to see Rachel Green standing on the top step. She had on worn jeans and a buttoned top, a more casual look than I’d seen her in before. Eliza Sue gave her a cool hello as she passed by to walk inside.

  “What are you still doing here?” I asked Rachel. I glanced around but didn’t see her parents’ Lincoln. “I thought you were going home with your mom and dad.”

  “Oh, they just ran to the store. Probably needed a minute away from mopey ol’ me,” she said with a sad smile.

  I walked up the steps toward her. “Nonsense. You aren’t mopey. Actually, you are handling all of this a lot better than I ever—” I swallowed, not wanting to add the word, “did.” I didn’t want to follow that word with an explanation, so I hurried with the next question. “How are you feeling today?”

  She gave a weak shrug that broke my heart.

  “It’s okay to not be okay. You’re going to feel like half a person for a while. I know it’s hard, and you might not be able to see your way to the end, but you will eventually find yourself. But for now, live in the memories. Give yourself permission to feel however you need to feel.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, but she stiffened her chin and nodded. “Right now, I think I need a break from feelings. They’re like tsunami waves, and there’s been no escape.”

  I listened. Was this emotion real, or was it the person she wanted to be, like Eliza Sue said.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I’m here now, so…”

  “When was the last time you had something to eat?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  “Want me to go make you something?”

  Rachel shook her head. “No, I’m not really hungry.”

  “How about hot cocoa? Tea?”

  “Fine. I’ll take a cup of tea. Mint, maybe?”

  “You got it.” We walked inside together, and I left her heading toward the living room as I walked into the kitchen.

  Cecelia’s pie was cooling on the counter. Next to it was a rack filled with scones. Oh, man. I could just taste one with Cecelia’s fresh raspberr—

  “You take that back, you wench!” a woman screamed from the living room. I stood with my hand frozen over the scones. The woman’s voice got louder and her language saltier.

  Now what? These guys are worse than a group of toddlers strung out on sugar, fighting over the last teddy bear. I ran for the living room.

  I entered to see the group scattered about on various chairs and sofas. Eliza Sue was standing by the fireplace, her arms crossed before her. Standing near the window, Mr. Peterson rubbed the back of his neck like he had a tattoo he was trying to erase. Mrs. St. Claire perched on the claw-footed couch with her arm around the shoulders of Rachel. I couldn’t see Rachel’s face; it was buried in her hands.

  Sarah stood by the sideboard, dumbly looking down at the decanters.

  After a moment, Mr. Peterson walked over to her. “I could use a drink, myself.”

  Sarah stared up at him, her eyes darkly lined with mascara, making them stand out on an otherwise pale face.

  “You want something?” he asked her, uncorking the decanter. “Apparently, as the player, I should ask.” When she silently nodded, he grabbed two shot glasses and poured a couple of fingers full.

  She took the glass from him. He threw his shot back, and with a grimace, poured another. This time he held it up like a cheers to the rest of us, before knocking it back.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, not at all sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  “Well,” Mr. Peterson began with a wry grin. “Apparently Eliza Sue can’t take a joke, and I’ve only just discovered I’m part of a love triangle I knew nothing about.”

  “He tried to call me a liar.” Eliza Sue’s eyebrows made two angry slashes like some cartoon figures.

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Peterson corrected. “I called you a know-it-all. It seems I was wrong. What I should have said was a hot-aired loony-tune gossip.” He held up the whiskey. Light flashed off the etched decanter. “Anyone else?” he asked.

  No one responded. Tension was thick in the air.

  Eliza Sue shook her head so hard her dark curls swayed. “Don’t you be denying it. You know!” She pointed her finger at him. “You know I saw you that night. You’re trying to make me sound crazy!”

  My skin prickled. Was this what Eliza Sue meant earlier when she said she had an idea who the father was?

  “You saw me?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Yes. You and Rachel. You two were coming back through the yard. And Michael Green came out of the back door. You jumped into the maple tree and climbed up. He almost caught the two of you.” Her hand was shaking with indignation. She spun around to face Rachel. “And you said, ‘Oh, honey, I just needed some air. I thought you were asleep.’”

  “If you thought this about me, why did you try to help me?” Rachel wailed.

  “I was watching you to see if you’d slip up. I wasn’t sure what to think yet. I knew he wasn’t pleasant to you. And I knew you had…problems.” Eliza Sue’s gaze cut to Rachel’s midsection.

  “Like I said, that sounds like the ravings of a lunatic,” Mr. Peterson said mildly. And then, to me, “That never happened.”

  Sarah took a small sip from her shot glass. “You did say you saw her the othe
r night.”

  “That’s right. I saw her. We talked about how bright the moon was.” He nodded emphatically. He reached out to touch her elbow. “Sarah?”

  Sarah stiffened and slowly walked over to the couch.

  “Well, I for one am not going to stand for this,” Mrs. St. Claire said. “I think you are a stroppy cow, Eliza Sue! How dare you accuse Rachel like this.”

  “Sorry it bothered you, but I’m telling the truth,” Eliza Sue said.

  “The truth? You come in here spouting accusations of her cheating on Mr. Green. And for what?” Mrs. St. Claire said. She flipped her red hair impatiently over her shoulder. “Maybe that came from jealousy, hmm? Maybe you wish you had someone interested in you.”

  I glanced again at Eliza Sue and was horrified to see her actually puffing up, as if she were a blowfish. Her chest went out, and her chin dipped. I braced myself for her response.

  It wasn’t quite as spectacular as I expected, but still passion-infused.

  “How dare you. How dare you!” Eliza Sue sputtered. Her face turned red, making her eyes seem even beadier. She turned to me and yelled, “Are you just going to stand there and let her talk to me that way?”

  My mouth dropped open. What was I, the teacher? I shook my head. “What do you want me to say?”

  “What’s the matter, Eliza Sue? You can’t fight your own battles? You’re just one to drop mean accusations and run? Well, let me tell you, that isn’t happening around me anymore.” Mrs. St. Claire was smiling now. Not a nice smile, but one that meant she thought she was winning.

  Eliza Sue stomped out of the room. Her steps echoed from the stairs.

  Mrs. St. Claire’s lips were still curled in a grin. “Rachel, don’t worry. No one took her seriously.”

  Rachel’s blonde head hung low, but she was no longer covering her face.

  Her husband added, “Don’t worry, Rachel. No one believes her. She’s a bitter old—”

  Sarah snorted and knocked back the rest of her drink. I thought she was going to respond. Instead, she glared at Mr. Peterson before slamming the glass down on the coffee table. She stormed out.