Scrappy Summer (5 page)

“I couldn’t eat this late in the day,” Sheila said.

“I can. It’s not too late for me,” Paige said and slid into a booth. Annie and Sheila
followed.

“Me, too,” Vera said.

The tables were faux wood, and the walls paneled. When Ruth walked up to the table
to take their orders, she greeted them with a slanted smile.

“Hey, ladies. What can I get you?” She held her pad and pen in her hands.

“I want a burger with ketchup and pickles,” Paige said.

Sheila and Annie each ordered a diet soda.

“I’ll have some fries,” Vera said.

“Be right back,” Ruth said.

“Okay, so how do we handle this?” Sheila said.

“She gets a break, doesn’t she?” Paige said.

“We might be here awhile if we’re waiting for a break. I told Mike I wouldn’t be out
too late,” Annie said, leaning forward.

Ruth came to the table and gave them their drinks.

“Everything okay?” she asked. Professional. Polite. Her colored red hair was pulled
up in a loose bun, and her make-up was caked on, as if she were going to be onstage
rather than waitressing.

They all nodded, and she smiled. “Your burger and fries should be right up.”

The women grouped closer together and watched her walk away.

“What’s this little huddle about?” a male voice said, startling them.

“Detective Bryant,” Sheila said. “How nice to see you.”

Annie sank back into the corner of the booth seat; Paige sat up straighter.

“Girl talk,” Paige said. “What are you doing here?”

“Just having a beer with the guys. I’m off duty for a change,” he said and rocked
back and forth on his feet. He wore a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It brought
out his blue eyes, as well as the red tint of his skin, for he had been drinking.

“Always good to see you,” Vera said with a tone that said, “Run along now, Detective.”

“I heard this rumor,” he said and slid into the booth next to Sheila, who scooted
away from his bulk.

“Chasing rumors, are we?” Annie said. “Must be pretty slow for you these days.”

“Not at all, Ms. Chamovitz,” he said, more than glancing in her direction. “But, anyway
. . . ,” he said and placed his arm around the back of Sheila’s half of the seat.
Sheila was visibly cringing. “About this rumor. I heard that you ladies were intimidating
Macy Freed. She felt very threatened the other night.”

Annie, Sheila, Vera, and Paige, dumbfounded, didn’t say a word but just looked at
one another.

“About some pie competition. You all wouldn’t do something like that, would you?”
One eyebrow hitched.

“She came to my house for supplies, and we just asked her a few questions. Nothing
illegal about that,” Sheila said.

“No, but if you threatened her . . .”

“Detective, nobody threatened anybody,” Annie said with a flat “I mean business” tone.

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said, then stood and leaned back on the table. “Stay
out of trouble, ladies.”

He turned and walked back to the bar. Sheila watched as he walked away. “DeeAnn is
right. She said the man looks good from behind.”

“Looks good from every angle, if you ask me,” Paige said under her breath, and they
all giggled—all except Annie, who studied her fingernails.

“We scared Macy?” Vera said after they quieted down.

“Maybe she
is
hiding something. Why else would she be scared?” Sheila surmised.

“No, c’mon,” Annie said. “I think this is getting a little out of hand.”

“I’m sorry she was scared. But we thought she might have messed with DeeAnn’s pie,
which is a nasty thing to do,” Vera said.

“Evidently, she didn’t. And then she went to the cops?” Paige said.

“Her husband hangs out with Bryant sometimes. It probably wasn’t an official complaint,”
Sheila said.

“What did happen to DeeAnn’s pie?” Ruth said as she came to the table next with Paige’s
hamburger.

A stunned silence. Finally, Annie cleared her throat.

“We were hoping that you could tell us something.”

“Me?” She looked wide-eyed. “I don’t know anything about pies or baking. Why me?”

“We just came from the Mennonite church, and Rachel said you took the pies from the
church to the fire hall.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“Something happened to it between when DeeAnn baked it and when it got to the fire
hall,” Paige said. “Any ideas?”

Ruth laughed. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t help. I took the pies and delivered them straight
into the hands of the judges. Must have been something else that happened.”

“One of the judges?” Sheila asked.

Ruth laughed harder. “You ladies are talking pie espionage. Crazy. I’ve got to get
going to the other tables. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“Well, that was easier than I expected,” Sheila said.

“But it didn’t give us any answers,” Paige said and then bit into her burger. “Mmm.
Damn good burger.”

“It did give us answers,” Annie said. “Just not what we were looking for. We’ve eliminated
all the possibilities, except for two. The judges messed with it or DeeAnn made an
error.”

“I can’t really see either one of those things happening,” Sheila said. “Those judges
are tough cookies.”

Paige took another bite of her burger, and they sat listening to Elvis Presley singing
“Hound Dog” on the jukebox.

“Now what?” Paige said.

“Well, of course, neither Rachel nor Macy was going to admit it, even if they did
it,” Sheila said.

“Of course not,” Vera said. “I was hoping to gauge something from their reactions.
That’s all.”

“Maybe it’s time to try another tack,” Annie said. “We need to go back to the source.”

“DeeAnn?” Paige said.

Annie nodded. “Remember when we took Vera step-by-step through her day when Emily
was killed, the way she remembered things she hadn’t thought about?”

“Yes, but I was hypnotized,” Vera said.

“It also works when you’re awake. Believe me,” Annie said.

“So you’re saying we should take DeeAnn through her morning the day of the contest?”
Vera asked.

“Yes. She may have forgotten about giving the pie to someone or leaving it somewhere
momentarily. You never know.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Vera said.

After they were finished with their food and drinks, the group walked to DeeAnn’s
house.

DeeAnn was sitting on her front porch when she saw her friends walking down the street.
She was drinking a glass of iced tea and watching the hummingbirds flit around from
feeder to flower.

“What are you all up to?” DeeAnn said as they made their way to her porch. All of
them were there: Annie, Paige, Sheila, and Vera.

Paige explained what they had been doing.

“What?” DeeAnn said. “You all are crazy. Certifiable. I told you to leave it alone.”

“Well, we couldn’t,” Paige said. “But we will after we try one more thing.”

“Well, what would that be?” DeeAnn said.

“Let’s take you through your morning when you baked the pie and took it over to the
church.”

DeeAnn paused. “You know, that’s a pretty good idea. It will set my mind to rest.”

“Good,” Paige said. “How about now?”

“Okay. Where do we start?” DeeAnn said.

“Let’s start in your room, from the minute you got up,” Paige said.

“Really? I don’t think we need to go that far back. Do you?” DeeAnn said.

“Okay, let’s start in your kitchen. That the first room you go to?” Vera said.

“Yes, after the bathroom. Do you want to go in there with me?” DeeAnn said, smiling.

“Not really,” Paige said, heading inside the house. “Let’s start in the kitchen.”

The women followed her in. DeeAnn led them through her morning at the house, up until
she left for the bakery.

“Why didn’t you bake it here?” Annie asked.

“The ovens are much better at the bakery,” she replied. “And, now that I think about
it, I was out of sugar and knew we’d just gotten in some supplies at the bakery the
night before.”

“Did you walk to the bakery or take your car?” Annie asked.

“I walked. It’s only three blocks away. I take the car only if it’s cold or rainy,”
DeeAnn said.

“So let’s go,” Paige said. “Let’s make sure to take the same path.”

“Well, that’s easy. I take the same path every day,” DeeAnn said.

As they walked along the sidewalk, Annie suggested that DeeAnn should take another
path every once in a while. “If someone were stalking you—”

“Oh, Annie!” Sheila said. “This is Cumberland Creek. We don’t allow stalkers here.”

The women laughed nervously.

“No, just killers, apparently,” Annie said.

“We’ve told you that was a fluke,” Sheila said.

“Which time? There have been four murders since I moved to Cumberland Creek,” Annie
said.

“All of those times,” Vera answered.

They were almost near the bakery. DeeAnn whipped out her keys. “All right,” she said.
“So far, we’ve learned nothing. I’m not sure where this is going to lead.”

“I disagree,” Annie said. “We’ve learned that you take the same route every day. And
we’ve learned that you were out of sugar and that the ovens at the bakery are better
than yours. That’s at least three things that might prove useful.”

The women stopped momentarily and all looked at Annie.

“You finished with that book yet?” Vera asked.

“Yes, I finished it last week. Just waiting for the editor to get back to me.”

“You need to find another project, woman,” Vera said.

Annie laughed. “You might be right.”

They continued to walk down the almost dark streets of Cumberland Creek. The streetlights
were just beginning to glow. DeeAnn stopped in front of the bakery and opened the
door. She flipped on the light and held the door open.

“Quick. Get in. I don’t want people to think I’m open,” she said. Sheila, Vera, Paige,
and Annie filed through the door, which DeeAnn locked promptly behind them.

“Okay, what was the first thing you did?” Paige asked.

“I made coffee,” she said, walking to the back, where the staff coffee machine was.
“Do I need to actually make it?”

“I don’t think so. Just go and stand over there. Maybe it will jar something in your
brain,” Annie said.

DeeAnn stood there and fussed around a bit with the coffee. “The new girl,” she said.
“She never seems to get things straight. The lid is not quite on.”

“Okay, okay. What next?” Annie asked.

“I usually check the schedule, but that morning I was in a hurry. I had already made
the crust. It was chilling in the fridge.”

She opened the fridge. Good God, the fridge needed cleaning. What was the evening
shift accomplishing? Not much, by the look of things. She made a mental note to investigate.
What was going on here last night?

“I took out the crust, walked over to the counter, reached in here for the pie pans,”
she said and reached in and pulled out a few. “
Mise en place.
I got all the ingredients and equipment gathered.”

She gathered up everything, including the spices, and sat them all on the counter
in front of her. Mace. Sugar. Allspice. Flour. Rolling pin. Pie beads.

“There,” she said. “Everything but the apples.”

“Pretty can,” Sheila said, holding up a can.

“Bradley’s spices. I love their designs, too.”

Sheila studied it. “I thought you said you don’t have cumin in the bakery.”

“I don’t,” she said.

Sheila held up the can. “Says cumin right here.”

“Here’s the cinnamon can,” Annie said, holding up an identical can.

“It must be a new sample! I didn’t realize we even had it in!” DeeAnn said and drew
in a breath, teared up, and then howled with laughter. “After all that, it was my
mistake. The cinnamon and the cumin cans are the same color, the same company, everything.
I don’t know who let the sales guy leave one of his cumin samples. But I can’t tell
you how much better I feel.”

“What? Why? You ninny,” Paige said, smiling but rolling her eyes.

DeeAnn clutched her ample chest. “I thought someone hated me. Or I had offended someone.
Me being careless, I can handle.”

The women stood a moment in stunned silence. After everything they had done, the answer
was right here with DeeAnn.

“Does anybody want to sample some of these vegan chocolate chip cookies?” DeeAnn finally
said.

Of course they all did.

Sheila moved the weekly crop to Friday because tomorrow the closing ceremonies at
the fair were being held and her husband needed to be there—which meant she did, too.
He was receiving a community service award for his work with troubled youth.

DeeAnn’s new “thing” scrapbook was spread out on the table, and the scrappers were
checking it out.

“I loved the way you journaled in the shape of a rattle!” Paige said. “Very clever.”

“Thanks,” DeeAnn said. “I used the negative space from a rattle cutout as a template
and sat it down on the page.”

“What I like are the actual journal pieces on the page. The torn paper,” Annie said.

“I love torn papers, too,” DeeAnn said. “I’ve seen scrapbooks that use that technique
on almost every page.”

“That’s one thing you don’t get with digital. I mean, you can make it look torn on
the computer, but when you print it out, you don’t really have the dimension or the
texture,” Sheila said.

“I’ve heard some people don’t even print out their digital pages,” Paige said. “The
keep everything on CDs and JumpDrives. I think that would drive me a bit bonkers.”

Sheila shrugged. “To each her own, I always say.” She flipped open her laptop. “Oh!”
she squealed.

“What?” Vera said, dropping her scissors.

“I have an e-mail from the competition!”

“The design competition?” Vera asked, slapping her hands together in a clap.

“Well, open it, for God’s sake!” Paige said. They gathered around Sheila. Her heart
raced.
Heart, don’t fail me now.
She knew better than to get her hopes up. But still, once they had told her she was
one of the finalists, she could not help but imagine what winning the contest would
and could mean to her. She placed her hands in her lap and twisted them together.
White knuckles.