Breach of Crust: A Charmed Pie Shoppe Mystery (7 page)

“Come on, Chewy!” Ella Mae scooped her terrier off the ground, placed him in her bike basket, and pedaled as fast as she could, aiming for the trail that wound around the lake and led into town.

She wasn’t the only one hurrying to beat the rowers to a choice viewing spot. The trail in front of Ella Mae was packed with cyclists and more were coming up behind her.

“Hold on to your helmet, boy!” Ella Mae cried, even though she’d already shoved the helmet into her backpack.
Chewy’s tongue unfurled from the side of his mouth and his brown eyes glittered with joy. Ella Mae’s feelings matched those of her dog. Speeding along with the other cyclists, she felt as giddy as a child. Many people had decorated their bikes with patriotic streamers and American flags while others added to the parade-like atmosphere by ringing bells or tooting horns. Ella Mae rang her own bell or waved hello each time someone passed her, and Chewy barked out a friendly greeting, his tail thumping against the handlebars.

Ella Mae was sweaty and thirsty by the time she reached the community park entrance. All the bike stands were full, so she deployed her kickstand and lifted Chewy out of the basket. After attaching a tire lock, she headed down to the lake’s edge. Ella Mae wasn’t concerned about her bike being deliberately stolen, but people often rode the wrong bikes home by mistake. This was often due to the amount of beer or hard lemonade the attendees consumed during the carnival portion of the event.

Pulling a beach towel from her backpack, Ella Mae searched for familiar faces and spied Madge sitting with Aunt Sissy; Aunt Sissy’s boyfriend, Alfonso; and Aunt Dee and her beau, August Templeton. Aunt Dee had obviously offered to watch Suzy’s standard poodle, Jasmine, as well as Miss Lulu, Jenny’s Schipperke, until after the race. And while Jasmine was the picture of obedience, Miss Lulu was dancing around in circles. Ella Mae stifled a grin as she watched August try to subdue the high-spirited canine.

“Look here, you little black devil,” August scolded Miss Lulu. “Can’t you sit for five minutes? How about three? No, no. There’s nothing in that basket for you.” He pushed Miss Lulu’s nose out of his picnic basket, but not before she managed to gulp down a slice of ham.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Ella Mae warned Chewy before putting him down. He gave Jasmine and Miss Lulu a cursory greeting before snuggling up to Dee. All animals loved Dee.

“We thought you might miss what promises to be a
thrilling
finale!” Sissy patted a rectangle of grass between herself and Madge. “We could have rented this patch ten times by now.”

Alfonso chuckled as he stroked his dark beard. “But we never would. We even turned away the mayor.”

“He needs to be waiting by the finish line anyway,” Ella Mae said, spreading her towel on the grass. “Where’s Mom?”

Sissy shrugged. “I don’t know. We looked
everywhere
for her. She probably wants to watch her handsome professor in private. She thinks we don’t know that she’s falling for him, but it’s perfectly obvious.” Lowering her voice so that no one else could overhear, she went on. “Have you seen what the flowers do when the two of them are together?”

Ella Mae nodded. “The entire garden turns into a kaleidoscope of color. It’s beautiful.”

“For now, yes,” Sissy agreed. “But what happens at summer’s end? Oxford isn’t exactly close, and Adelaide isn’t fond of air travel.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ella Mae admitted, feeling some of her merriment dim. “It’s been such a delight to see her happy—to see her open herself up to love after living without it for so long. My father’s been dead for over thirty years. I don’t want her to be alone anymore.”

Sissy squeezed Ella Mae’s hand. “Neither do I. And who knows? What’s growing between Adelaide and Henry might just be magical enough to overcome an ocean’s worth of distance.”

“Speaking of water, dear ladies, we should focus on what’s happening out on the lake.” Alfonso pointed at the rowboats.

Ella Mae raised her binoculars and played around with the focus dial until she was able to find the lead boats.

She instantly recognized the yellow shirts belonging to Hugh and his fellow firefighter, and her heart leapt in excitement. “Hugh’s winning!”

Sissy nudged her in the side. “But the team from Village Tire and Service is coming up
fast
.”

“As are Reba and Jenny,” Dee said. “Reba looks like she just got a second wind. Look at her go!”

Alfonso leaned over to Sissy and murmured, “A second wind or a special energy zap from Jenny?”

Sissy gasped. “She wouldn’t dare! That would be
cheating
!” She darted a glance at Ella Mae. “You don’t think she’d stoop that low, do you?”

“I hope not,” Ella Mae replied in an anxious whisper. “It wouldn’t be fair, but Reba’s competitive drive can triumph over her common sense.”

Peering through her binoculars, Ella Mae began to genuinely worry that Jenny had given Reba a dose of what Ella Mae referred to as “liquid sunshine.” With one touch, Jenny could revive a person’s flagging energy so that they were suddenly capable of running a marathon. “Or winning a boat race,” Ella Mae muttered to herself.

“Don’t count Henry out,” Madge said. “He might be longer in the tooth than the rest of the leaders, but he’s trying to impress a woman. Such motivation could carry him to victory.”

“Hugh is trying to impress a woman too,” Sissy pointed out.

Chewy barked and Dee placed a steadying hand on his neck. “That’s right, Charleston Chew. You’re the one wearing the firefighter costume, not your mother.”

At this, everyone laughed and the buoyant mood was restored.

“Oh my, it’s going to be a close finish!” August cried and
got to his feet. Holding out his hand, he helped Dee to stand. Within seconds, all the spectators were up and cheering for their favorite team.

Don’t do it, Reba
, Ella Mae thought as she watched The Charmed Pie Shoppe team edge closer to the firefighters and the Village Tire team.

“What happened to the policemen?” Alfonso asked. “So many people expected them to win this race.”

“Oh, it was
too
funny!” Sissy exclaimed. “Moments before you got here, the cops collided with another boat and lost an oar. The other team isn’t from Havenwood, and you’ll never guess what product they sell.”

Alfonso gave his beard a tug. “Donuts?”

“Yes!” Sissy squealed. “Isn’t that too much? Havenwood PD played bumper boats with Sprinkles Donuts.” Her smile disappeared as she squinted at the lake again. “Look! Finn and Calvin are making a final push. They’re going to try to squeeze in between The Charmed Pie Shoppe and the firefighters.”

Ella Mae saw Reba glance over her shoulder to find more competition coming up from behind and wondered what her longtime friend would do when faced with such difficult odds.

“Come on, Reba! Go, Jenny! Go, Hugh!” she shouted, but her voice was lost amid a cacophony of yelling, screaming, ringing cowbells, barking dogs, and blasting air horns.

Ten boat lengths from the finish line tape, which had been strung between two buoys, another team pressed in from the starboard side of Reba and Jenny’s boat, giving them no choice but to angle their bow to port. This forced Finn and Calvin to adjust their direction, causing their bow to scrape along the side of Hugh’s boat. It was only the briefest of contacts, but it was enough to reduce the firemen’s
momentum and the Village Tire and Service team surged ahead.

The noise from the onlookers rose to a fever pitch, and Ella Mae could see Reba shaking her fist in frustration.

But it was too late. The Village Tire team member sitting in the bow broke the finish tape with an oar and the crowd went wild.

As the celebrations continued, Hugh and the other fireman came in second, The Charmed Pie Shoppe took third, and the WoodWorks team captured fourth.

“What a dramatic conclusion!” Madge declared. “I should take more vacations. I had no idea events such as these existed.”

“Only in Havenwood,” Ella Mae said with a smile. “And wait until you see the assortment of food vendors. They come from all over for this race.”

Alfonso cupped a hand around his ear. “I ate a very light lunch in anticipation of this evening’s festival, so please enlighten me as to the delights awaiting me.”

“If it can be dipped in batter and fried, it’ll be for sale,” Dee said. “There will also be gyros, Italian sausages, Cuban sandwiches, fish tacos, Korean short ribs, roasted corn, vegetable shish kebabs—”

“My appetite is suitably whetted.” Alfonso reached out to take Sissy’s blanket and camp chair. “Shall we, my songbird?”

August looked at Dee. “If you’d prefer a less crowded environment, I already prepared a humble dinner at my house. I just need to heat it up.”

Dee rewarded him with a grateful smile. “You’re so thoughtful. I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like more than spending a quiet evening with you.” She glanced down at the dogs. “Is it all right if these two stay in your garden until Suzy and Jenny can pick them up?”

August readily agreed then turned to Madge. “Miss Stutsman, I hope you enjoy your first food truck carnival. Ella Mae, please congratulate Hugh, Reba, and Jenny for me. They provided us with a most thrilling race.”

“They certainly did,” Ella Mae agreed. She sensed Dee was avoiding the carnival because of her burn scars and wished that her aunt didn’t feel the need to shy away from public view.

Their small group parted ways. Sissy, Alfonso, and Madge headed to Sissy’s car to drop off their belongings before proceeding to the food truck area. Dee and August packed their things into a large tote bag, took hold of the dogs’ leashes, and strode off toward downtown’s residential area and August’s charming brick townhouse. As for Ella Mae, she unlocked her bike, loaded Chewy into the basket, and pedaled for the library.

However, the paths were so crowded with pedestrians that Ella Mae decided to bike through town. Because most of the spectators opted to park at or around the community center, the business district was nearly deserted. Ella Mae flew down the empty streets, dreaming of all the sumptuous food she and Hugh would soon be sharing.

Suddenly, the ringing of an alarm disrupted her peaceful ride.

The sound was muted at first, but as she drew closer to Perfectly Polished, Loralyn Gaynor’s largest nail salon, the clamor grew louder.

Despite Chewy’s agitated barking, Ella Mae slowed her pace.

The salon’s front door was ajar, and the rhythmic clanging emanated from somewhere deeper inside. Ella Mae peered into the dimness while retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, but she saw no one moving around by the pedicure
chairs in the back of the salon. What she did notice, however, was that the door leading to the staff offices and the massage and waxing rooms stood ajar.

Just as Ella Mae was calling the police, a white sedan pulled away from the curb at the end of the block and made an immediate right at the next intersection. Tires squealed and a powerful engine roared as the sedan accelerated so rapidly that Ella Mae was unable to take note of the car’s make and model.

However, in the seconds before the sedan rounded the corner, she did catch a glimpse of the decal affixed to the rear window. It was a glittery white flower.

A camellia.

Ella Mae waited outside with a very agitated Chewy while an officer from the Havenwood PD entered the nail salon.

As she tried to comfort her terrier, Ella Mae focused on the camellia decal she’d just seen. The same decal had been affixed to the rear window of Bea’s car. Bea’s car had also been white. And like Bea’s Cadillac, Ella Mae was quite sure that the car she’d just seen tearing around the corner was also a luxury automobile. The similarities made her uneasy. Did the break-in at the nail salon have something to do with Bea’s death?

Ella Mae had little time to mull over this question for the alarm was silenced and the cop reappeared on the sidewalk.

“Was this a robbery?” she asked the officer.

“It’s looking that way.” The cop glanced down at his notepad. “You saw a white sedan leaving the vicinity, correct?”

Keeping a hand on Chewy’s head, Ella Mae nodded.

The officer fixed a hopeful gaze on her. “And you’re sure that you can’t identify the make or model of the vehicle?”

“I wish I could,” she replied with genuine regret. She was about to tell him about the camellia decal when he abruptly thanked her and headed back inside the salon. Deciding not to pursue him, Ella Mae dialed Officer Hardy’s number. When he didn’t answer, she left him a detailed message.

“I’m sure the responding officer has this well in hand,” she added after explaining her reason for calling. “I just thought, considering the doubts we both felt over Bea Burbank’s death, that you’d want to know about the decal.”

After ending the call, Ella Mae shoved her cell phone back into her pocket. “Good Lord, Chewy! Hugh will think we’ve stood him up. This is no way to treat the second-place winner!”

As it turned out, Ella Mae had missed the entire prize ceremony. And while Hugh was quick to forgive her, Reba was not.

“Who cares about the damned nail salon?” Reba railed. “What’s a thief want from that place anyway? Cuticle clippers and emery boards?”

Pulling her aside, Ella Mae told her about the camellia sticker.

The scowl on Reba’s face vanished. “Why would one of those club ladies be pokin’ around in Loralyn’s salon?”

“My question exactly,” Ella Mae said. “And I’ve been so busy helping Suzy and Madge research variations on Greek myths on apples that I haven’t gotten around to reading the Camellia Club’s directory or the rest of the materials the club secretary mailed me. Tomorrow, after church, I’ll be holed up at my house with that package.”

“Why not start tonight?” Hugh said from behind her. “Right after we grab a bite to eat, I can put your bike in my
truck. I’ll be your research assistant.” Hugh took her hand in his. “Back before we knew the truth about each other, you couldn’t ask for my help when someone threatened our town. Loralyn’s gone missing. And now, it looks like a member of the Camellia Club has broken into her salon. That sounds like a threat. Or at least, a mystery. Let me be involved. Let’s work as partners this time.”

“Because we have no more secrets.” Ella Mae smiled at him. “Still, I don’t know if I’ll be able to concentrate with you around.”

Hugh pointed at his chest. “Is it the Day-Glo shirt?”

“More like what’s under it,” Ella Mae said. “But I can’t say no to the second-place winner.”

Reba put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Jenny and I would have won if it wasn’t for those idiots crashin’ into us at the bitter end.”

“I’m proud of you,” Ella Mae told her friend. “You earned one of the top places without
extra help
from Jenny. Not only that, but you and Jenny will inspire other women to enter the race. No woman has ever won first place.”

Reba’s mouth curved into a wide grin. “Until today! You missed the award ceremony, so you didn’t see the winnin’ team in person.”

“I know Village Tire and Service,” Ella Mae said. “It’s the closest gas station to The Charmed Pie Shoppe. The owners, Kevin and April Pillsbury, are good people. He always tells me jokes and she always has recipe ideas to share with me.”

“Well, we assumed their rowers were two guys because they were wearin’ red shirts and matchin’ baseball caps featurin’ their logo and a vintage gas pump,” Reba said. “April’s hair is real short, so it wasn’t until she crossed the finish line and took off her hat that everyone realized
she
was the rower sitting in front. For the first time in Havenwood history, a
team with a woman has claimed the top spot. And the story gets even better. Tell her, Hugh.”

Hugh nodded. “The mayor gave a short speech and tried to hand Kevin one of those giant ceremonial checks, but Kevin sidestepped it and whispered something in the mayor’s ear. The mayor had to take a moment to master his emotions before he could speak into the microphone again.”

“Really?” Ella Mae couldn’t imagine what Kevin had said to move Buddy so deeply.

“The crowd went quiet. No one could understand what was happening. April gave her husband a thumbs-up, but the rest of us were totally confused. Finally, the mayor cleared his throat and said, ‘This weekend, we celebrate our nation’s independence. And we all know that freedom comes at a price. Freedom must be protected and defended, and sometimes, the cost is very dear. As a way of thanking our servicemen and women, Kevin and April have decided to donate their entire check to the Wounded Warrior Project. Let’s hear it for our winners!”

Ella Mae felt her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t believe the noise didn’t reach me downtown. That’s amazing!”

“It sure was,” Reba said. “You know what else is amazin’? Barbecued baby back ribs. I could eat an entire rack after all that rowin’. Finn and Jenny are off somewhere sharin’ a picnic blanket, so I need to get some food and then find myself a man for dessert.”

“What about Lou?” Ella Mae asked. “He seemed keen on your stopping by the pub later.”

Reba dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. “Date the owner of the local watering hole? Never. I like Lou well enough, but what would happen if things didn’t work out? I’d never be able to go to The Wicket again.” She waved her arm to incorporate the entire parking lot. “Besides, there are
hundreds of men here. Men I’ve never seen before. Strange, exciting men. As different as the fare on the menu boards of these food trucks.” Reba’s eyes gleamed. “You have fun, kids. I sure intend to!”

Ella Mae and Hugh laughed as Reba disappeared into the throng.

Later that night, after a multicultural sampling that included red curry scallops, polenta bites, barbacoa tacos, shiitake mushroom dumplings, fig tarts, and Nutella pizza topped with chopped strawberries and crushed pistachios, Ella Mae and Hugh headed back to her place.

Hugh showered, fed the dogs, and shooed them outside to play in the garden. Meanwhile, Ella Mae had already opened the package from the Camellia Club’s secretary and starting reading about the club’s history.

“What’s my job?” Hugh asked, joining her on the sofa.

Ella Mae handed him the directory and then patted the laptop on the coffee table. “I haven’t looked at the ladies’ pictures yet. I’ll do that next, but could you try to find images of the ones who were absent during the photo shoot? I’d like to be able to match every name and face before these women arrive. I don’t want to be caught off guard by any of them.”

Hugh picked up the book and turned to the first group of photographs. “I’m terrible with names. I could never memorize this many by August.”

Ella Mae pointed at the photograph of Bea Burbank. “If you’d found her floating in the lake, you could. If Bea’s daughter had showed up at your place of work and poured her heart out to you, you’d learn everything you could about these women.”

“Why Havenwood?” Hugh mused aloud. “Why did Bea choose this town for their retreat? Why was she killed here? And why was a Camellia in Loralyn’s nail salon today?”

Ella Mae shook her head. “I don’t know.” She gestured at the directory. “Maybe the answer is hidden between the lines of one of the women’s bios. Or buried in the club’s rich and storied history. There
must
be a connection.”

“Then let’s find it,” Hugh said and fixed his attention on the directory.

Ella Mae returned to her own reading, which proved to be quite fascinating. The Camellia Club was founded in the 1860s as a sewing circle. At least, that was the pretense. According to a reprinted letter from Mrs. Margaret Woodward, the club’s founder and first president, the purpose of the Camellia Club was threefold: to broaden women’s minds through education; to initiate positive changes in the community; and to perform charitable works.

For the remainder of that century, the Camellia Club was a place women gathered as activists, forward thinkers, and in many ways, rebels. Outwardly, they all played the part of high-society ladies. But behind the closed doors of Margaret Woodward’s Sweet Briar mansion, they plotted to secure child labor laws, voting rights for women, and educational opportunities for both women and minorities. Theirs was a group far ahead of its time.

“You were living the Virginia Slims motto during the nineteenth century,” Ella Mae murmured. The more she read, the more she admired the tenacity, patience, and passion exhibited by the Camellias. “I wonder if your club still has a hidden agenda or if integral parts of the founder’s mission have been forgotten. I don’t think the formidable Mrs. Woodward bequeathed her mansion to the club to merely serve as a site for garden parties and weddings. She wanted to be sure there would always be a safe place, a secret place, for the Camellias to meet.”

“Are you talking to your book?” Hugh asked.

Ella Mae showed him a black-and-white photograph of Margaret Woodward. The image was small and grainy, so it was difficult to see her face clearly, but Ella Mae had an impression of dark, intelligent eyes; high cheekbones; and smooth skin. Margaret Woodward had one of those ageless faces, much like Ella Mae’s own mother, making it difficult to tell whether she was thirty-five or fifty-five. She wore a white day dress with a tight bodice and a full skirt. Her waist was fashionably tiny and her glossy hair had been braided and pinned to the side of her head. A bonnet rested casually against her knee and she stared directly at the camera. Her gaze was challenging and her smile was enigmatic.

“She looks like a woman who could make things happen,” Ella Mae said.

Hugh leaned closer to the image. “I swear I just saw her twin. She must be related to this woman.” He flipped back to the previous page in the directory and pointed at a set of photographs. “All the women are grouped in mother-daughter pairs. It would be confusing to use this book if you didn’t already know them, because most of the moms and daughters have different last names. However, lots of the daughters went with hyphenated surnames after they got married. In this case, you have Cora Edgeworth and Meg Edgeworth-Ryan.”

Ella Mae studied the photographs. Cora Edgeworth looked a bit like Jackie Kennedy, but Meg was a dead ringer for the club’s founder.

“Meg and Margaret Woodward must be related,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “The resemblance is uncanny. Meg even has the same mysterious smile.” Ella Mae examined Meg’s biographical sketch. “She’s a smart cookie. MBA from Duke. Works as a hedge fund manager at her father’s company, Edgeworth Financial. She also has a master’s
degree in linguistics. Wow. Look at her volunteer experience. When does this woman sleep?”

Hugh shook his head in wonder. “They’re all like that. Not necessarily the degrees or the jobs, but the list of charitable works. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were trying to compete with one another—to see who spends the most time giving back.”

Curious, Ella Mae looked at Cora’s biography and then turned the page and quickly read the bios of another mother-daughter pair. “I wonder if the daughters have kids of their own. And if so, do they ever see them? These women, Savannah McGovern and Blake McGovern-Reynolds, must have been on the committee for every event the Camellia Club hosted over the past year.”

“Maybe Savannah or Blake hoped to be elected president one day,” Hugh suggested.

“Maybe,” Ella Mae said absently. “If that’s what it takes to be president, Bea’s bio must be really long.”

Hugh tapped the directory. “Go back to the beginning. The officers are listed in order of rank, starting with Bea.”

Ella Mae turned to the first page, which featured a lovely photograph of Bea in an ivory skirt suit. Behind her, a pair of wrought iron gates opened wide to reveal a Greek Revival–style mansion.

“Atalanta House,” Ella Mae read. “This was Margaret Woodward’s home,” she told Hugh. “Margaret was a wealthy widow when she founded the Camellia Club. Her husband died of yellow fever and they had no children, so she inherited his considerable fortune. According to this book, it was Margaret’s idea to build their house in the Greek Revival style. Apparently, she loved all things Greek. The gardens were filled with Grecian art and statuary, and she had a huge
collection of urns and other artifacts throughout their home. She sounds like a very interesting lady. I wonder what she would have made of Bea and of this surrogate daughter business. Have you had a chance to look up the names of the women who missed the photo shoot?”

Hugh pointed at a piece of scrap paper on the coffee table. “Helen Lee, Samantha Lee-Singer, and Lyn Croly. I haven’t gone online yet. I’ve been too busy reading these bios and feeling like a poor excuse for a human being.”

Ella Mae poked him. “Excuse me. Don’t you
voluntarily
enter burning buildings to save people and animals? Dante wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for you. And he’s not alone. You’re a hero, Hugh. You’d never admit it, but I know who you are.”

She leaned over to kiss him. He returned the kiss, and then his lips moved from her mouth to her jawline. When he kissed the soft skin under her ear, she shuddered. Holding her tighter, he whispered, “I’m a small fry compared to you. You saved the whole town.”

Ella Mae pushed him away. “This is what I was worried about. How can I concentrate with you around?”

Hugh held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll move to the far end of the sofa and place a tower of pillows between us.” He hurriedly stacked the pillows until they formed a lopsided wall. “There. Why are you still looking at me?” He pretended to glare at her. “Don’t you have work to do?”