Plum Deadly (5 page)

Aunt Clara looked around the kitchen. “I don’t think I could do that. I appreciate the offer, but this is my home. You do what you have to do, honey. I’ll be fine.”

Neither one of them had much to say after that as they washed dishes and straightened up in the kitchen before they headed to bed.

• • •

M
aggie thought about
her aunt’s response to moving to New York the rest of the night. She didn’t even bother trying to sleep. Between Aunt Clara’s declaration and what had happened with Lou, her eyes weren’t going to close. She stayed up reading and watching news on her laptop.

It was strange seeing Lou’s face on the 10:00 p.m. local news. The description of his death was sketchy, followed by the comment, “and the police are still investigating.”

Maggie knew Ryan was right about what was coming up for her and Aunt Clara, at least until the next big story came along. She hoped she could shield her aunt from most of the unpleasantness.

Between Detective Waters’s questions and Ryan’s short interview, she felt cornered. She hoped she wasn’t the only suspect, if it turned out that Lou’s death wasn’t a natural one. That would be an even worse scenario from the end of her exciting life of the last ten years.

Maggie’d thought nothing could be as bad as being fired from her job for stealing money and having to beg for a bus ticket home. She’d thought that was the bottom of the barrel.

She’d been wrong.

Coming home to Aunt Clara had showed her what a shallow, heartless person she’d been to the woman who’d raised her.

Now she might be a suspect in a murder case. How much more bad news could she take?

Maggie looked around her old bedroom, filled with china dolls and softball trophies from her childhood. Even the thick rope ladder she’d used to climb from the roof to the old oak tree outside her window was still there.

Uncle Fred had always understood her need for independence. He’d been ingenious at finding ways to help her.

She wouldn’t trust the rope to accomplish that feat again, but it had been an important part of her life at one time—like Uncle Fred and Aunt Clara. She’d left all of that behind to try and make up for all the emotional baggage she still carried after the loss of her parents. She’d thought having a wildly successful career would fill that dark place.

It never had.

The end of her beloved career had shown her where her true allegiance was. Aunt Clara would always welcome her home with open arms, no matter what happened. Maggie had desperately needed her that rainy night, when a police officer had dropped her off at her aunt’s front door after her parents had been killed. She’d only been four. Aunt Clara had been there then, and she was here now, when her life was in upheaval again.

She couldn’t let her aunt down again, no matter what. Maybe it was a good thing that she’d been fired, Maggie mused. She was here for a reason right now. She couldn’t leave Aunt Clara again and go back to that other life. Those
days were behind her. No job could be more important than what she owed her aunt.

She was frightened about the future. She didn’t know what she should do next.

Clearing her name of any wrongdoing—including embezzlement and possible murder—seemed to be her first priority. She couldn’t be here for Aunt Clara if she went to prison.

Gray light was slipping through the curtains when Maggie looked at the old Cinderella alarm clock next to the bed. She’d been surprised to find that it still worked. It had been a gift for her tenth birthday.

It was 7:00 a.m. Maybe she could prove something to the police, herself, and Ryan Summerour by going to the press conference Lou said he’d set up. Maybe there would be some answers there.

M
aggie put on
her best jeans and a blue Pie in the Sky T-shirt. She’d been lucky to find a few T-shirts in her size from her aunt’s stash. She’d also found one of Uncle Fred’s old blue sport coats and wore it to dress up the outfit. Uncle Fred had always been thin so it fit her fine.

After she’d washed her hair, she pulled it back from her face. She needed to look tougher, less easily pushed around. She may have been down, but she wasn’t out. Not by a long shot.

She put on her only pair of earrings, gold hoops Lou had
given her for her thirtieth birthday. She’d managed to bring them back with her because she was wearing them the day she lost her job. There was a lot of irony wrapped up in those earrings.

The effect in the mirror wasn’t fantastic. She looked like she’d been up all night—her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She also looked smart and mature. She wasn’t some kid just starting out.

With everything she would be dealing with that day, smart and mature was good. She needed people to believe her, despite her recent history.

Aunt Clara fretted through breakfast about what she would do with herself that day. With the pie shop closed, she couldn’t imagine how to fill her time.

“I’m going to check out Lou’s press conference.” Maggie helped herself to cereal and milk. “Maybe you should stay in with a good book today. I don’t know what’s going to be waiting out there for us. Lou’s death was all over the news last night.”

“I don’t want to see the shop all closed up like that. It always seems so sad and alone when it’s closed.” Aunt Clara sat down with her cup of tea. “You look wonderful. So much like your mother at your age. Maybe that nice reporter will be there too. I hope the police reopen the shop quickly. A person could go stir-crazy sitting around. I’ve never been good at that.”

Maggie was glad her aunt didn’t want to go to the pie shop. She felt sure Ryan would be there after their conversation the night before. “I wouldn’t plan on the shop reopening
so soon, but I’ll ask if there’s any timetable on that—if Detective Waters shows up.”

Aunt Clara sighed again. “Maybe I’ll go to the library. I’ve been meaning to look at some new pie recipes. Maybe I could get some new ideas for the mystery pie. I have some thoughts about it. Nothing carved in stone as yet.”

Maggie was glad to hear her aunt had thought of something constructive to do that would take her mind off of the pie shop being closed, even if it still involved pie making.

“Maybe when we both get back we can get serious about that piecrust you wanted to show me,” she said to her aunt.

Aunt Clara’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s a good idea. This would be the perfect opportunity for me to show you how it’s done. You’re a genius, Maggie.”

Might as well face it.

If Maggie was going to stay and help Aunt Clara, she was going to have to learn to make piecrust. It might be bad at first, but surely she’d get better. It wasn’t rocket science.

She’d never bothered with cooking before—Aunt Clara would find that out right away. She was willing to work hard at it though. Maybe that counted in the art of pie making. It had to be somewhere in her genetics, after all.

She opened the front door and a surge of reporters pushed toward her, yelling out questions. She closed the door quickly.

First, she needed to tackle getting out of the house unnoticed.

“I’m going out the back way,” Maggie told her aunt.
“Give me a few minutes before you leave. The reporters should follow me.”

“Were they TV reporters?” Aunt Clara asked with a gleam in her green eyes.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“Good publicity. I might have to bake some pies and give out slices with business cards.” Aunt Clara smiled. “Don’t worry about me, honey. You go on to your press conference.”

Maggie couldn’t think of anything else she could say that would keep Aunt Clara from confronting the reporters outside the house. She hoped her aunt knew what she was doing.

The backyard was small with only one large tree in it. There were fences around it on all three sides. Maggie hoped the Walkers, who lived next door, had never repaired the spot Maggie and their son, David, had loosened into a swinging gate between their yards.

It had come in handy through many adventures. Maggie wondered what had become of David. He’d wanted to be a geologist, though she wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was when he decided.

It was a long time ago. They’d been good friends until high school. She couldn’t remember why they stopped being friends.

The opening was still there. Maggie went through it with a little more difficulty than she remembered from her childhood. She went out across the Walkers’ property, escaping from the press that was still waiting in front of her door.

She’d have to remember to ask Aunt Clara what had happened to David.

Maggie made good time walking to the pie shop. She saw Ryan talking to Detective Waters in front of Pie in the Sky as she approached. Saul from the Spin and Go was with them. They were all gesturing at the pie shop.

Not a good sign.

They saw her too quickly. She’d hoped to sneak up on them. No matter. She raised her chin and gave them a haughty look. None of them appeared openly hostile. No friendly hellos either.

Detective Waters glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s almost ten and no media for the supposed press conference, Maggie. How do you account for that?”

“I wasn’t the one who set it up,” she responded. “I only told you what Lou said.”

Saul humphed. “All these years I’ve been right beside the pie shop, no trouble. This one comes in”—he pointed his thumb at Maggie—“and right away, people start dying.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I worked here through college before you were even living in Durham, Mr. Weissman,” she fired back. “And people aren’t dying. One man died. He happened to be my friend.”

She was getting a little tired of being treated like a two-year-old. She ate people like this for breakfast at her bank job. Being accused of being a thief and running home with her tail between her legs was turning her into sponge cake. It was time she got over it.

“No one’s accusing anyone of anything, at this point,” Detective Waters said. “The police department is investigating. That’s it.”

“Have you got a report that says what killed Lou yet?” Maggie demanded, mindful of Ryan listening.

“We know it wasn’t a heart attack.” Detective Waters also seemed to watch his words with Ryan there. “The medical examiner isn’t sure what it was yet. He thinks it might’ve been some kind of poison. We’re waiting on the tox screen right now.”

“Since other people ate and drank the same pie and coffee here that Lou did yesterday and there hasn’t been a rash of poison deaths,” Maggie pointed out, “I guess if he was poisoned, he got it somewhere else.”

Frank shrugged his shoulders beneath his thin jacket. “Yeah. I thought of that. We have to finish up here anyway. As soon as we know what killed Mr. Goldberg, we’ll let everyone know.”

The police detective nodded to all of them then got in his late-model brown Toyota and drove away.

Saul shook his head and went back inside the Spin and Go.

Maggie stared defiantly into Ryan’s blue eyes. She told herself she was ready for whatever he planned to say. She could handle herself. She was through with apologizing for things she hadn’t done.

“Don’t mind him,” Ryan finally said. “Frank is okay for a cop. He’s probably cranky. His wife went to the beach with friends for a week, leaving him alone with the kids. It happens every year.”

Maggie had opened her mouth, prepared for a rebuttal of whatever he’d said. She closed it without speaking, surprised by his words. Was he really on her side?

“Are you all right?”

“No. Not really.” She was having trouble formulating words. “You believe me about Lou?”

He took out his cell phone. “This came yesterday. It went into my spam filter so I didn’t see it until this morning. I showed it to Frank too.”

It was Lou’s press release. It said exactly what he’d said it would. There was no new information for her from it, but it existed. It
really
existed.

“You got it.” Tears fell down her cheeks in a rush of relief. Somebody besides Aunt Clara was on her side. She hugged Ryan and thanked him a few dozen times before she realized how crazy she sounded and backed off. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” He put away his phone. “Let me buy you some coffee. I’m afraid the best coffee isn’t available right now.” He nodded at the pie shop. “We’ll have to go to Biscuitland.”

They started walking. “You’ve been in the pie shop before?”

“Sure. I went to Duke. I think we all came to Pie in the Sky at one time or another.”

“Recently?”

“I was here a couple of weeks ago. There was this grumpy waitress, very pretty, but a little on the neglectful side. Maybe she was distracted. I had to ask twice for a coffee refill with my pie.”

Maggie’s heart fluttered a little. The grumpy part was bad. She didn’t mean to be grumpy. It was nice of him to say she was pretty. She hadn’t felt pretty, or even human, for the last few weeks.

“Sorry. It’s been a rough time for me. Come in again after we reopen and I promise better service.”

“Any word on when the shop will open again?”