Read Online Never Say Pie (A Pie Shop Mystery) by Carol Culver - Free Book Online Page A

The one I already have works fine. Not as nice as this one, but it’s very sharp. Cuts meat and everything.”
    “The Model X-40,” he said. “That’s the one the chief took.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. It does such a great job I wanted to order one for everyone I know,” I said.
    He nodded. “Too great a job. It seems there’s been a problem.”
    “I think I know what problem you’re referring to. I had a visit from the chief also. I’m guessing he’s looking for everyone who ever bought one of your X-40 serrated spatula-knives.”
    “Sorry I couldn’t help him. I don’t keep a list of buyers. I know I should. Other vendors do so they can send flyers to their customers to alert them of special sales and so forth. I’m just not organized enough.” He shrugged.
    “I understand,” I said. “I should be doing that too, but I’m not. It’s all I can do to get myself and my pies here once a week and keep up with the customers without worrying about keeping lists or records. But it’s true, it would be a good business tactic. If I had a list I could send notices about my holiday pies in advance so I could be prepared.”
    He agreed that would make good business sense. Then he politely asked me what kind of pies I made and I promised to bring him a sample.
    Still thinking of Grannie and her single state, I tried to check out his ring finger to see if he was married, but I couldn’t tell so I said, “I imagine your wife is a big help with the paperwork.” I know it sounded sexist, but I had to say something.
    “She was,” he said sadly. “Until she passed on three years ago.”
    I finally tore myself away, wondering how much Sam had told him about the “problem” with his spatula-knife X-40. I took a moment to congratulate myself for finding out that the charming old fellow wasn’t married. Now I was getting as bad as Grannie and her friends with their zeal of matchmaking. But how can anyone blame me for wanting to locate Husband Number Three to fill Grannie’s life with love and happiness and a collection of upscale cutlery.
    So Sam was one step ahead of me. Today anyway. Tomorrow was another day. I might be wrong, but I hoped and believed that I had a better chance of getting people to talk than Sam did. If I wanted to. Sometimes the police can frighten people. I liked to think I could get information from people by coaxing them. Which would you rather be, frightened or coaxed?
    I hurried back to my booth with the news I’d met the man of Grannie’s dreams.
    “What’s Sylvester Stallone doing here at the Food Fair?” she asked.
    “Not Sly, but a charming artisan who’s adorable. I’ll introduce you.”
    “Not today.” She shook her head. “My hair is a mess and I need a facial.”
    “Okay, next week then. I have a good feeling about this.”
    “Your friend Kate was here,” Grannie said, changing the subject because she was obviously uncomfortable at my clumsy attempt to set her up with an attractive man. “She bought some meat pies and some other stuff and she said she’d be at the picnic tables having lunch.” Grannie pointed toward the far end of the food section where hungry customers could chow down on their farm-fresh goods before leaving the fair. “Why don’t you run along and have a coffee or something to eat with her? I’m having fun selling your pies,” she said. “I’ve run into a few friends I hadn’t seen in ages. Why didn’t I think of this?”
    “If you’re sure,” I said.
    She nodded emphatically.
    Picnic tables had been set up at the edge of the Food Fair to encourage customers to buy and eat and then go back and buy some more food to take home. It looked like it was working. Kate waved to me from the far end of the area where she was wedged in between other happy fair-goers chowing down goodies like home-made mini-pizzas with brioche crust, fresh fruit drinks, kettle corn, and pâte spread on whole-grain crackers.
    I squeezed in between two groups on