Treacherous Tart (8 page)

She'd had slow-motion nightmares about Donald stumbling into Pie in the Sky and falling down dead over and over again. In one horrible version, it was Aunt Clara who died.

Getting up, showering, and dressing made a huge difference. Maggie felt more like her normal self. The radio announcer was calling for more snow that day.

A group of schoolchildren from the elementary school a few blocks over was coming in to make snowflake pictures and drink free hot cocoa at Pie in the Sky. Ryan had promised to take pictures for the paper.

“We're running late, so I made you a slice of toast.” Aunt Clara yawned and pushed a piece of peanut butter toast toward Maggie. “There's juice. I might have you make me a cup of coffee from that fancy coffeemaker today too!”

Maggie ate her toast while she put on her coat. The cat was waiting at the front door for them to leave. “Do you really think she'll go back and forth with us?”

“She has been.” Aunt Clara put on her purple coat and wound a pink-and-purple scarf around her throat. “I think she likes commuting.”

“Or she likes to eat pie scraps.”
Why didn't I notice?

“I like her going back and forth. Now that you
know, she can walk
with
us instead of skulking through the yards on the way.”

Maggie didn't really expect it to happen, but the cat walked at their feet down the wet sidewalk all the way to Pie in the Sky. It was amazing for someone who'd never had a cat before. She didn't know a cat would do something like that.

Uncle Fred had bought her a puppy when she was very young. It was a cocker spaniel with golden hair. Maggie had really loved that dog. She'd called him Buttons.

Buttons had died when Maggie was fifteen. He was old and sick by then and had passed away in his sleep one night. Her heart had been broken, and she'd never considered having a pet again.

The cat was different. It was Aunt Clara's cat, for one thing. She wouldn't get so attached to it. She opened the pie shop door and turned on the lights. “I was hoping it wouldn't be this bad.” Aunt Clara stood in the middle of the shop and shook her head. “I can't believe Donald is really dead. I thought he might be my second chance at love, you know? That's what I get for reading all those silly romances.”

The chairs were spread everywhere, in no certain order. There were still dirty footprints and blood all over the blue tile floor in front.

Maggie hugged her. “I know. I'm sorry this happened. I wish I could change it for you.”

Aunt Clara smiled. “I know you do, dear. I appreciate that.”

“You go in back and start on the pies. I'll take care of this. What's the pie of the day?”

“I haven't even given it a thought. I suppose we'll make it Pumpkin Pizzazz, just so it will be easier.” Aunt Clara sighed and took off her coat as she went into the kitchen.

Maggie followed her, mimicking her actions. They put their coats on the rack in the kitchen at the same time. She ran hot water, bleach, and soap into the rolling metal bucket.

She could tell her aunt's heart wasn't in making pies today, but maybe getting to work would be good anyway.

By 6:00 a.m., the floor was clean and the chairs were rearranged. Maggie made an espresso for herself while she watched the coffee perk in the big urn. Aunt Clara had changed her mind about the “fancy” coffee and had a cup from the urn.

The pie shop was busy as usual first thing in the morning. It was a little busier with people asking about what had happened. There were more strangers than normal. Some people even came in and wanted to take photos. A lot of them asked questions and stood around talking about Donald's death.

Maggie didn't have the time or inclination for that. It seemed to her that the less said about yesterday and Donald's death, the better. Aunt Clara said
she felt the same too, but she stood at the service window between the kitchen and the dining area each time she heard the subject mentioned.

Mr. Gino and his handsome young nephew, Tony, brought the supplies they'd missed on their last visit. Mr. Gino gave Aunt Clara a hug and a new mug with his business name on it. He expressed his sympathies and said he'd see her later in the week.

“Don't worry, Clara. This will go away. Business will even be better for a while, yes?”

Mr. Gino reminded Maggie of Mario in the video game. Tony was a large, solidly built man with curly dark hair and the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen. He always wore a tank top, even in the winter.

Probably to show off those muscles
, she thought, watching him move a box in the kitchen. He winked at her when he saw her staring. Maggie looked away.

Saul Weissman from the Spin and Go Laundromat next door stopped in for plain coffee and asked about Donald's death. He was a short, gray-haired man with heavy black glasses. He bought two whole pies to go and said he hoped Aunt Clara would be okay.

“It's all over the news, you know,” he told Maggie. “Maybe it will be good for business. People like a little notoriety.”

By the time he left, the pie shop was full. Maggie hadn't had time to go into the kitchen and help Aunt Clara make pies. They were already far
behind in their orders for the day—too many nosy customers.

She was glad to see Ryan. She'd taught him to run the cash register and wait tables. She took full advantage of his willingness to help.

“I have some new information.” Ryan rang up an Elegant Eggnog pie and coffee. “Thanks for the tip about the Durham Singles website last night.”

“We'll have to wait to talk about it. I'm sorry. Aunt Clara is swamped in the kitchen. I have to help her.”

“Sure.” Ryan smiled and got the next customer in line. “I don't know how to work the coffee gadget yet. If someone wants a latte, I'll have to call you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Maggie ducked into the kitchen. Aunt Clara was moving slowly through the tasks of pie making. This would've been a good time to have some frozen crust on hand. Maggie put on a white apron and started making crust.

“Are you okay?” she asked her aunt.

“I suppose so. This is one time I could've stayed in bed all day.” Aunt Clara smiled at her. “It's probably just as well I had to come here. No one likes a mopey old person.”

“It's okay to mope a little,” Maggie assured her. “You've suffered a loss. It's going to take some time to recover.”

There was a loud knocking on the kitchen door.

Maggie went to answer, hoping it wasn't Mr. Gino again. Instead, it was a local TV newsperson who wanted to interview her and Aunt Clara.

Despite the possible publicity the interview could bring, Maggie turned her down. “I'm sorry. This isn't a good time for us. Maybe later.”

“Can you answer if you think your aunt was being targeted by Donald Wickerson?” The pushy reporter shoved a microphone toward her.

“We're not talking about this today. Thanks.” Maggie closed the door in her face. It seemed to be the only way to get rid of her.

“I feel like such an old fool.” Aunt Clara was mixing more filling for the pumpkin pies. “Do you
really
think Donald wanted to be with me so he could steal my house?”

Maggie hugged her aunt. “We don't know that. Even if it was true for other women—that doesn't mean he didn't love you.”

“Do you really believe that?” Aunt Clara's green eyes searched her niece's face.

“I really do.” Maggie wasn't sure what to believe, but undermining her aunt's confidence wasn't going to help anything. Donald was dead. Everything else was speculation. And right now, what her aunt needed was love and support.

Aunt Clara kissed her cheek. “Thank you, honey. You're a very good person—not a spectacular liar, but I love you.”

“I'm a really good liar,” Maggie argued as she put another crust in a pan.

“It might be because I know you so well. You always do this little twitchy thing with your mouth.”

“What?”

The two women stood side by side making piecrust and filling. Maggie made extra crust so her aunt could take a break if the shop stayed busy all day. Clara made tons of pumpkin filling.

“You know, your Uncle Fred didn't like pumpkin pie.” Clara concentrated on what she was doing while she talked. “It's why I started making mince. We had to have some kind of pie to serve at this time of year.”

“I didn't know that.” Maggie put two more crusts into pans. “I remember he liked key lime in the summer. He used to sneak in here when you weren't looking and snatch some.”

Aunt Clara stopped working. “Really? I never knew. Surprising how you think you know someone so well and then learn something new about them.”

“I know what you mean. Take you, for instance.”

“Me?” Clara stared up at her. “What have you learned new about me?”

“You're willing to give people a second chance, no matter what. And that you love snow.”

“That's true. I guess you can learn something new every day.”

Ryan walked into the kitchen. “We're clear out here for a few minutes, Maggie. Can you talk?”

Aunt Clara shooed them out of the kitchen. “I'll be fine. You two discuss what you need to.”

Maggie and Ryan sat down at one of the small tables. Snow was falling a little heavier, hitting the plate-glass windows and making a splattering sound.

“I kind of hacked the Durham Singles site and came up with five other women who Donald was either interested in or actively dating. Any of those women could be a suspect.” Ryan ate a bite of Delia's Deep-Dish Cherry pie, named for Maggie's mother.

“Five other women? Are you serious? It's a good thing he died before I killed him for leading her on that way!”

“As you pointed out, I was very clear about Donald in the newspaper. One of these women may have read the paper and had the same reaction you did. Anger and jealousy are powerful emotions. Most of the murders are caused by these emotions. The paper had been out for hours. Walking up and shooting him may not have been a premeditated plan. It could've been a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”

“You better hope Frank doesn't see it that way. He could charge you with conspiracy or something if he thinks you were the catalyst after he asked you not to print that stuff.”

“I'm not worried about Frank. I have a constitutional right to print the news. Police from three
states, including this one, have investigated Donald. Frank wanted to turn a blind eye and wait to see what happened. That's not my problem.”

Maggie wasn't sure about that. Frank had been angry at the shop yesterday.

“Who were the five women Donald was dating?”

Ryan took out his cell phone. “Anna Morgan. Sylvia Edwards. Angela Hightower. Lenora Rhyne. Debbie Blackwelder. Any of them ring a bell?”

Her brows elevated at the list of women. “Definitely Angela. Also, Lenora Rhyne. She's a friend of Aunt Clara's. I think they went to school together.”

“I'm going to take this list of names to Frank as a peace offering.” Ryan shrugged. “Maybe he'll get over our disagreement. And one of these women could be the killer.”

A
fter Ryan had
left to use his list of possible suspects to placate Frank, Maggie gave all the tables and chairs a quick clean. There were a few pie spills, and customers always spilled coffee on the floor. She'd just finished mopping when Lenora and her daughter came in.

Lenora had been crying. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed with tears. She was shaking and occasionally let out a low moan.

“Take it easy, Mama.” Alice Majors, Lenora's
daughter, helped her to a chair. “You said you wanted to do this. I told you it was a bad idea.”

Lenora was a heavyset older woman with long gray hair that spilled down her back. Her Shalimar perfume was so strong that it almost overpowered the aroma of baking pies. “It's so hard,” she sobbed. “Donald and I were so much in love.”

“
Shh.
I know. I'm so sorry.” Alice was a younger version of her mother. Her hair was long and dark, a swath of bangs cut across her forehead. Her brown eyes were keen on her mother's face. Alice was a large woman too, but tall enough to still make it look good.

Maggie wasn't as surprised as she might have been if Ryan hadn't just shared the information about Lenora being on Durham Singles. She knew her aunt and Lenora were competitive with each other. Aunt Clara was always coming home from their meetings with stories about the other woman's one-upmanship. She may have started dating Donald because she knew Clara was.

Maggie had listened to stories of Lenora volunteering for jobs at the library because she knew Clara wanted them, but that was only lately. She could remember as a child that the two women were constantly finding ways to annoy each other.

At the end of the day, though, they still remained friends.