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

a bench across from Kate and she opened a plastic container of olives stuffed with blue cheese and offered them to me along with a spicy tofu wrap.
    “I didn’t know you were into health food,” I said eyeing the low-cal flax and whole-wheat wrap suspiciously.
    “Let’s just say I’m into all kinds of food in a big way, from flax to this gooey cinnamon twist. Take your pick.” I chose the twist and washed it down with a paper cup of coffee laced with cream she offered me.
    After popping an olive in her mouth, she looked to her right and then to her left. Then she leaned forward. “I heard something disturbing.”
    I nodded. “I think I know what you mean,” I said softly.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
    “It’s not easy to talk about around here, especially with my mouth full of blue cheese.”
    She tilted her head to one side and looked around at the crowd. Probably wondering how safe it was to say anything confidential.
    That’s when I overheard a man at the picnic table behind me say something interesting.
    “You say it was murder?” he asked in a low raspy voice.
    Oh my God, the “M” word. My ears positively sizzled. That was the word I wasn’t supposed to say or hear or investigate. No wonder my whole body went on the alert.
    “She said it, not me,” another guy answered. “You know how women are. Can’t keep their mouths shut.”
    “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” the first one agreed. “You know where she was last night?”
    I didn’t hear an answer and I didn’t want to turn around and stare even though I was dying to know who the guys were. I purposely dropped the plastic fork Kate had given me and leaned down to pick it so I could sneak a look at the speakers from the other table. All I saw was a pair of shoes as one of the guys got up to leave. He was wearing sandals, the kind appropriate for wading in swamps with thick rubber soles and brown leather straps.
    “I’ve got to run,” I told Kate, standing up abruptly. “Back to work.” But I didn’t intend to go back to my booth, I wanted to follow the guy who mentioned “murder” and “last night.” It couldn’t be an accident. It had to have something to do with the one and only murder in Crystal Cove and I had to follow up on it. And it had landed in my lap so to speak. But by the time I turned to go, intending to follow the guy in the sandals, he was gone.
    I felt Kate’s curious gaze follow me as I walked away, no doubt wondering why I was acting so strange and muttering “Damn, damn, damn,” to myself. I tried to tell myself it was probably noth ing. I was overreacting. Playing detective when I was strictly instructed not to. The men were probably talking about a movie or a TV program. No way did a murderer discuss his or any other crime at a food fair picnic table. The whole idea was laughable, but somehow I didn’t feel like laughing.

Four
     
    I not only had to postpone Grannie’s intro to Mr. Right Number Three, aka the knife seller, but I also had to take over my pie booth that afternoon and let Grannie get back to Heavenly Acres for her afternoon Bridge game.
    I was able to forget anything to do with the “M” word for a few hours because business was brisk. I handed out samples, engaged buyers in conversation about my fresh-baked, luscious pies, my quaint little shop, and my colorful grandmother. You name it, I was Chatty Kathy, as Grannie used to call me, praising our charming small town and, of course, my own pies.
    Then Sam came by and it all came back to me. I had walked out of his office last evening with my “I’m not guilty and I’m not sorry” statement. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rash. I could have said “I’m not guilty, but I AM sorry.” But I wasn’t. He knew that. So why pretend different?
    “Good to see you,” I said with a smile, hoping he’d forgotten our last conversation. “Have you had lunch?”
    He shook his head. “I’m not here to