Treacherous Tart (10 page)

The book club ladies started coming in a few minutes after the schoolkids left. Maggie was finishing the cleanup of cocoa and tiny white pieces of paper.

“The book club is here,” Maggie told her aunt.

She wasn't sure what she was going to say to Angela. It wasn't a crime for her to be listed on a dating service, even if she was married. It was certainly none of Maggie's business if Angela was looking for her next Mr. Right.

The book club met at Pie in the Sky every week, and liked to share their opinions on what they read with one another, as well as with Maggie, Aunt Clara, and anyone else in the pie shop at the time.

Angela was clearly the leader of the group. Maggie knew the type—always the leader of any group.

Angela owned her own real estate brokerage in town and dressed in classy, brightly colored suits with lots of chunky jewelry. She was good with makeup.

Between that and her shoulder-length dark-blond hair, it was hard to say exactly how old she was. Maggie guessed at somewhere between forty-five and fifty-five.

“Hello, Maggie.” Angela was already moving a few of the small tables together for her group. They always sat in the corner away from the big windows at the front of the shop.

“Hi, Angela.” Maggie took out her order pad. “What can I get for you?”

“Definitely coffee.” Angela wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “It's cold out there. I'd like a latte. An agent from my office was raving about your Viennese Cinnamon. I'd like to try that.”

“Sounds like a good choice.” Maggie smiled at her and tried again to think of some way to introduce Donald into the conversation.

“Terrible thing about that man being killed here yesterday.” Angela shook her head. “Are you and Aunt Clara never going to get a break, or what?”

A
ctually, he wasn't
killed here. That's the good news.” Maggie realized Angela had opened the door for the conversation by bringing up the subject. “Still, it's hard for Aunt Clara. You know they met on the Durham Singles site.”

It was a little white lie. Maggie needed to push open that door a little more.

“I didn't know that.” Angela rubbed her long, slender hands together. “It's difficult to imagine a woman Clara's age wanting to be listed at a place like that.”

“Everyone gets lonely.” Maggie took out the milk and coffee she needed for Angela's latte. “I looked at the site—Aunt Clara needed my help with the computer. There were hundreds of people listed there—younger and older.”

Angela stood close beside Maggie as the coffee was brewing. “You saw my name, didn't you?”

“I did.” Maggie added a touch of cinnamon. “I was a little surprised to see you there. None of my business.”

“We're all friends here, right?” Angela smiled in a predatory way. “I'm married, but the life has gone out of that relationship. I started thinking that maybe I was reaching down too far, too young. So I began looking in the Silver Foxes. I saw Donald there.”

“Did you two date?”

“Of course not! Clara is my friend. As soon as I knew who he was, I backed off.” Angela smoothed her hair back from her attractive face. Her bracelets clanked together on her arm. “I was glad I didn't date him after I saw Ryan's story in the
Durham Weekly
. I think Donald might have gotten what he deserved.”

“Maybe so.” Maggie steamed the milk, not convinced that Angela would back off of
anything
without a fight. “It was terrible.”

Angela put her hand on Maggie's shoulder. Her strong, musky perfume permeated Maggie's senses even over the aromatic smell of the coffee. The combination made her sneeze.

“Bless you.” Angela gave the usual response in a cheerful tone. “I'm glad Clara escaped him. He was obviously a horrible man.”

“Obviously.” Maggie finished the cup of coffee and put it on the counter. “I'm wondering who did the deed, you know? There are a lot of people to choose from. Was it someone related to one of the women the police think he killed, or was it a scorned lover?”

“That's a good question. I'm sure Ryan and the police will be looking into that answer.” Angela stepped away and pointed to a piece of pie in the refrigerated case. “I'll have the eggnog pie today, Maggie. It looks great!”

Maggie didn't feel like she'd learned much from Angela. She wasn't sure what else to ask her. Ryan had a knack for picking up on what people were saying that she couldn't duplicate. Maybe that was why he was the reporter.

By that time, Jean, the super-thin nursing instructor from Duke, was there for the meeting. She always wore green scrubs and liked to complain about how bad her students were. Jean wanted a plain coffee and a piece of Pumpkin Pizzazz.

“Hiya, Maggie!” Barb, who was a Duke counselor, wasn't wearing her usual frown that day. “I won twenty-five dollars in the lottery this morning. Can you believe it? I'm taking myself out to dinner tonight. I've never won anything before in my life!”

“Congratulations,” Maggie said. “Have a coffee on the house to celebrate!”

The three women had been friends since childhood. They were quickly joined by Liz and Sissy, who were new to the group.

Liz had straight black hair that she wore short and dramatic. She liked heavy black eye makeup to complement her look. Maggie knew she was the theater director for the Children's Theater in Durham. Her speech was very clear, full of enunciation.

Sissy was a married woman with sandy-colored hair and freckles. She had three children she liked to brag about. Her husband was from a wealthy family. She sympathized with the women in the group by frequently reminding them that she'd never worked. Needless to say, she wasn't very popular.

After taking their orders and coming back with the food and drinks, Maggie was surprised to see that their book of choice for that week was a young-adult vampire novel.

“That's an unusual book for you to read.” Maggie smiled as she put down the slices of pie from her tray.

“It's my doing,” Liz said. “I've always had a thing for the supernatural. When I lived in Paris, I dated a
real
vampire.”

“Really?” Maggie put their tickets down on the table too. “Was he in one of Anne Rice's books?”

Liz giggled. “No.
Real
vampires never come out and tell people about themselves. I knew only because I was his lover. It was sad when we broke up. He was a hundred and fifty years old, but he looked like he was twenty. And he was an
awesome
lover.”

Angela grimaced. “That's a little
too
old. I'm thinking late fifties, maybe sixty, with some money.”

“Sounds good.” Barb picked up her coffee cup and sipped. “Put me down for one of those too.” Maggie left the women alone at their table to discuss their book. There were two students studying together at another table. It usually took them an hour to drink a cup of coffee and start on their pie.

She went into the back to see if her aunt needed help. Aunt Clara was starting to take a whole tray of pies out of the oven.

“Let me give you a hand with that.” Maggie put on oven gloves and took the tray of five mincemeat pies from her. “They smell wonderful, even though I don't like mincemeat.”

“The crust is enough to tease the nose,” Aunt Clara said. “That's what my grandmother always said. She didn't think pies needed filling to be good.”

“I suppose that could be true if you really
love
crust.” Maggie put the pies on the cooling racks beside the big oven. “I like the filling, except the mincemeat. Even with your secret lemon peel addition, it makes me shudder.”

“Everyone has their favorite.”

“I was thinking that we might consider selling ice cream when the weather gets warm again.” Maggie laid the oven mitts on the counter. “Lots of people ask if they can have ice cream with their pie. It might be worth it. We'd have to have a separate, smaller freezer to get it in bulk.”

“I'm sure Mr. Gino would be glad to give us a price on that.”

“I'm sure he would.” Maggie wasn't sure they were getting the best prices from Mr. Gino, but her aunt had been dealing with him for years. She liked him and trusted him.

“Let's think about it,” Aunt Clara said. “Our more immediate problem is what to name the cat.”

“I have to think about refilling some coffee cups.” Maggie grabbed the coffeepot.

Angela wanted another latte. Maggie made sure everyone was full of pie and whatever she was drinking, and then made the next latte for Angela. Because the lattes took a little time, she tried to make sure everything was running smoothly before she turned her back on the other customers to make them.

A tall, robust man in a nice gray suit strode into the coffee shop while she was making the latte. Maggie glanced back as he almost pushed the door into the wall. He apologized while he was waiting for her to finish Angela's coffee.

“I'm Heath Jernigan.” He put his hands into
his coat pockets. He was one of the few not wearing a heavy coat that day. “I'm here to see Clara Lowder.”

Maggie immediately eyed him with suspicion. “What did you want to see her about?”

“I saw her profile at Durham Singles and then read about her terrible misfortune in the newspaper.”

“Misfortune?”

He nodded vigorously. “Her loss, if you will. I'm here to give her a shoulder to lean on and a firm hand on the reins.”

Does Durham Singles only sign up crazy men?

“I'm sorry, Mr. Jernigan. My aunt is very busy right now.”

Aunt Clara heard her name and rushed out of the kitchen in her apron, flour on her cheeks. “What's going on?”

“You must be the woman I'm looking for.” Jernigan quickly took her hand and kissed her fingers. “You don't know me yet, but when you do, you'll be pleased as punch about it.”

“Who are you?” Aunt Clara retrieved her hand and wiped it off on her apron.

He quickly introduced himself again. “I'm the man of your dreams.”

“Don't be foolish.” She avoided letting him take her hand again. “You don't even
know
me. I think you should leave now.”

It took several more attempts to get Jernigan to leave the pie shop. Maggie finally threatened to call the police.

When he was outside the front door, Aunt Clara turned to Maggie. “What in the world is going on? First Albert—and now this man. Has everyone lost their minds?”

Maggie watched her aunt go back in the kitchen. Obviously it had been a mistake putting her name on the Durham Singles site. She'd meant well, but things weren't working out as she'd hoped.

Even worse, she'd forgotten to remove Clara's profile last night when she started chasing the cat. Now there could be more crazy men on their way to court her aunt. Weren't they supposed to call or something first? Maggie had never used a dating service, but she'd thought it would be more confidential than this.

Angela sidled up to her. “You forgot to mention to Clara that you put her on the dating site, didn't you?”

Nice to have it happen with an audience.
“She knew. She wasn't expecting so much attention,” Maggie explained. “More pie?”

Angela smiled and sat back down with her friends. Maggie was sure she knew exactly what had happened.

Frank Waters came in a little while later. He asked for a cup of coffee and a slice of mincemeat
pie. “I'd like a little conversation too, if you have the time, Maggie.”

The book club ladies were getting ready to go. One of the students had left. The pie shop was almost empty. She sat down with him at a table near the window.

“Anything in particular you want to talk about?” She wiped a coffee stain from the tabletop after she had his order ready.

“I think that would be obvious since I'm a homicide detective and a man you knew died in here yesterday.”

Frank could be a little brusque. Maggie knew he was good-hearted behind that serious countenance and flat, no-nonsense style. Still, she was always careful with her words when she was around him.

“I don't know what else I can tell you about what happened. I answered all the questions yesterday.”

“Humor me.” Frank dug into his pie. “Let's pretend we don't have all the facts about Mr. Wickerson's death—including who killed him—which we don't.”

“I'm not sure I understand what you're looking for.”

“Someone knew Mr. Wickerson spent plenty of time here. He or she waited until he was almost here before coming out to shoot him up close and personal. The killer ditched the gun at the back of your shop and went on his or her merry way. Mr. Wickerson stumbled into the pie shop and died. Does that sound like the
whole
story to you, Maggie?”

“You found the gun.”