Treacherous Tart (20 page)

It looked as though they were stuck with her for the morning, at least. She supposed she could always walk back after lunch with the cat. By that time, Fanny might be glad to stay home with her kittens.

The streets were so quiet at that time of the morning. It seemed hard to believe how much traffic would go through here over the next few hours as commuters made their way to school and work.

They were surprised to see Frank waiting outside the pie shop when they arrived.

Maggie looked at his solemn face in the multi-colored glow of the Christmas lights on the window as Aunt Clara opened the front door. She knew it wasn't a good thing that he was there.

“We have to talk,” he said. “I hope the coffee is strong this morning.”

Aunt Clara laughed as she switched on the interior lights. “You're at Pie in the Sky, Frank, ‘where the coffee is strong and the pie is sweet.' My late husband used to say that. We ran a series of jingles with it on the radio one year. It was very successful, but too expensive.”

Maggie waited until Aunt Clara had walked into the kitchen. “What's wrong, Frank? Why are you here?”

He took off his gloves and the cap he wore that covered his ears. “I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to. You know I wouldn't. The idea that Clara killed anyone is ludicrous. If it was up to me, I wouldn't take her in for questioning.”

“
Take her in for questioning?
” Maggie's voice trembled as it went up and down like a bad musical instrument. “No. That's not right. You know she'd never hurt anyone. I'm sure she has no idea how to use a gun. You said there was no gunshot residue on her hands.”

Frank put his hand on hers. “You know I feel the same. The captain had to remind me that we have to look through all potential suspects. She'll be fine. We both know she didn't do anything wrong. It just
looks
bad right now. Every other suspect we've run down has ended up with an unbreakable alibi.”

“I want to go with her.”

“You can come too, although you'd be better off calling a lawyer for her—and
I
didn't tell you that.”

Maggie thought about Garrett's offer of his lawyer to help her aunt. “I'll call someone. Let me tell her.”

She went back to the kitchen, where her aunt was humming as she began new piecrusts. Maggie put her arm around her and tearfully told her what Frank had said.

Aunt Clara stared at her for a moment, as though she couldn't take it in. Then she said, “Rubbish! Frank thinks I killed Donald? What is the world coming to? The police can't find the killer, so they grab anyone they can and try to pin it on them. Lousy coppers!”

It was so different than the response Maggie had expected that she laughed out loud. “Please don't call them that while you're at the police station.”

Frank came into the kitchen and looked inquiringly at both of them. “Is everything all right in here? Clara, I wouldn't do this if my job didn't depend on it. Do you need some time to freshen up or something?”

“Spare me.” She wiped her hands on a towel and went to get her coat and scarf. “This better not take too long, Frank, or you'll have to send someone to come and help Maggie make pies.”

Astonishment in his eyes, Frank glanced at Maggie, who shrugged.

“I'll make it as quick as I can,” he said.

“Don't worry about me, Aunt Clara. I'll take care of the shop. I'm calling Garrett's lawyer too. Everything will be fine.”

Clara muttered to herself as Frank held the door to the pie shop for her and then opened his car door. Maggie got on the phone right away, but Garrett's lawyer was unavailable.

Now what should I do?

Providence sent Ralph Heinz, a lawyer and long-time family friend, into the pie shop for an early coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie. He confessed, as he ordered, that he didn't tell his doctor that he stopped by the pie shop regularly.

“Can you help Aunt Clara?” Maggie described the circumstances to the plump, gray-haired man.

His eyes focused sharply behind his thick glasses. “I don't really do that
kind
of legal work anymore. The stress was unbearable. I'm mostly estates, wills, and money matters. There was a time when I first got out of law school that I thought about being a public defender, though. I could sit in on the questioning with Clara.”

Maggie ran around the counter and hugged him. “She's already on her way there. Can you go now?”

He looked at his pie and coffee. “Save this for me. I'll be back later.”

“Thanks, Mr. Heinz. Bring her home, please.”

H
e promised to
do his best and went back out the front door.

Maggie was pleased with being able to find a lawyer at the last minute. She couldn't do any more than that for her aunt.

The whole idea of Aunt Clara being a killer was crazy anyway. Captain Mitchell would realize it once he talked to her aunt.

Panic set in as she realized that there were no fresh pies. The slices remaining in the refrigerated case wouldn't last an hour with normal traffic.

She called Ryan. “I have an emergency.”

“I'm on it,” he replied. “I'll be there in five minutes.”

An hour later, Maggie and Ryan had an efficient system worked out. She made the pies and filled the orders he gave her. He took the money and poured the drinks. Instead of delivering pie to the tables, he took names and called them out as orders were ready.

The cat, who'd run to the alley again, started scratching on the back door. Maggie took a moment to give her some food. Fanny ran inside the kitchen instead.

“I know I said I'd take you home this morning, but something has come up. You're going to have to cooperate with the system like the rest of us. As soon as we have a break, I'll work something out. In the meantime, sit right here or you'll have to go back outside in the cold. I told you to stay home this morning.”

She laughed at herself for talking to the cat even as Ryan rang the order bell again. There was a knock at the back door. Maggie opened it, and the cat ran out.

Mr. Gino walked in. “Where's Clara?” He fingered his thick mustache as he looked around.

“She had to run out and take care of some legal matters.” Maggie danced around the question and
answer. She wasn't prepared to handle this today—she wasn't prepared for any of it!

“She called and said she had some things to talk about.”

“You can talk to me, Mr. Gino. We were both going to discuss some things with you.”

Mr. Gino shrugged, the movement nearly making his large mustache touch his shoulders. “All right. You're the new partner. What do you need?”

Maggie talked as she made and filled piecrusts. She pulled a tray of ten mincemeat pies from the oven. In between those tasks, she mixed up eggnog pie filling and set it in the refrigerator. Mr. Gino opened the refrigerator door for her and smiled.

“The bell stopped working. I think it's broken.” Ryan stuck his head around the doorway. “Do you want me to yell out the orders or what?”

“Just put them in the service window. I'll get them.”

Ryan greeted Mr. Gino with a nod of his head. “Okay. I need three slices of Pumpkin Pizzazz.”

“How's the coffee urn doing?” Maggie asked. “Have you checked it recently? It may need more coffee.”

“I only have two hands,” Ryan retorted. “Both of them are covered in whipped cream and pie.”

Mr. Gino snorted. “What's the big fuss? Let me take a look at it for you.”

He ambled into the dining area, which was packed with Pie in the Sky patrons.

When Mr. Gino came back into the kitchen, the coffeemaker was working. “There. You should be set up for a while. I'll go over your list and get back with you on prices. Chicken potpies sound like a good idea to me. And Pie in the Sky would be the only spot around here to serve ice cream in the summer. Good idea!”

“Thanks, Mr. Gino.” Maggie was grateful for his help and his feedback.

Ryan called out that he needed two slices of apple pie with cheddar. “And how do I use the espresso machine? I knew someone was going to want one.”

“Tell them it's broken and the next one is on the house.”

“Gotcha.”

When the rush was over two hours later, Maggie and Ryan slumped into chairs, exhausted by their efforts.

“How do you do this every day?” he asked her.

“I just do it. How do you sit through all those boring city meetings without going to sleep?”

He smiled. “Who said I don't sleep through them? I record everything so I can listen to it later.”

They both laughed at that. Maggie asked if he had any news about his new idea to save the
Weekly
office. He told her he was still banking on the idea he'd set in motion.

“We have to figure out who actually killed Donald.” Maggie was finally able to express her fear and frustration. “I don't like that the police have run out of suspects to the point that they wanted to take Aunt Clara in for questioning.”

“That's what we've been doing. I have some new information from the ME. I'm not sure how much good it will do us.”

“Let's hear it.”

He took out his cell phone and looked at his notes. “The ME's assistant found traces of hand lotion on Donald's face.”

“Is that it? That doesn't sound like much.”

“There was also lipstick on his lapel. The police aren't sure if that happened while he was killed or before. The shooter was very close, so it could go either way. They're trying to match the shade and possibly brand.”

“I wish they'd find something more conclusive—like the killer's wallet in his pocket or something.”

“There is one thing they found that bothers me. Flour.”

“Flour?” She wrinkled her nose. “You mean like piecrust flour?”

“I'm afraid so. It was on the outside of his jacket. The ME's assistant told me some flour was also found on the gun.”

“Like Aunt Clara ran out of the kitchen with flour on her hands, shot Donald before he could
reach the pie shop, and ran back inside after hiding the gun behind the trashcan.”

“Like that.” He closed down the note program on his phone. “They're still looking at the body. I suggested that the flour on Donald could have come from the pie shop floor since he collapsed here. That doesn't work for the gun. That's probably why Captain Mitchell had Frank bring Aunt Clara in for questioning.”

They both sighed as they considered what could happen.

But the next moment, the pie shop door opened and Aunt Clara bounded into the dining room. “What a couple of gloomy faces. Did one of you burn a piecrust or something?”

Maggie jumped up and went to hug her aunt. Ryan did the same. Ralph Heinz followed a few minutes later.

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked her aunt. “No one was mean to you or anything, were they?”

“Like Ralph would've let someone be mean to me.” Her aunt smiled at her friend. “He was fierce in that interrogation room. No matter what Captain Mitchell asked, Ralph was quick on the draw.”

“
Mitchell
interrogated you?” Ryan seemed surprised.

“There was a little dustup between Detective Waters and Captain Mitchell,” Ralph explained. “The captain doesn't seem to think Waters is doing a
good job on the case. He thinks he's biased because he knows Clara.”

“But you're fine.” Maggie smiled at her aunt. “That's what matters.”

Two students, yawning and asking for coffee, came in and sat down with tablet computers. Maggie and Ryan waited on them before taking drinks and pie to the table where Aunt Clara and Ralph were sitting.

“I'm not going to lie to you all,” Ralph said between bites of pumpkin pie and sips of coffee. “I haven't done this kind of law in a long time, but the police have a lot of circumstantial evidence against Clara. It would be hard to
convict
her, but that won't necessarily stop them from trying if they get the go-ahead from the DA. Can you imagine a jury thinking Clara killed this man?”

Maggie shuddered when she considered the implication. She didn't want this to go any further. “Is there something we can do to counter these accusations against her?”

Ralph considered her question. “You should hire a criminal attorney. Someone with experience would be better able to tell you how to proceed.”

Aunt Clara finished her cup of coffee. “I'm going into the kitchen before the next rush. Thank you for being there, Ralph. I don't think we should give any of this another thought. I didn't kill Donald. The police will find the person who did.”

Maggie thanked Ralph again too and went to join her aunt in the kitchen. “Maybe Garrett's lawyer can still take your case.”

Aunt Clara was putting on her apron. “We're not hiring anyone to defend me. I'm not wasting our money that way.”