Nuttier Than Pecan Pie Page 7

  Eve looked around. Lulu stood at the podium, holding up her trophy and ribbon, a huge smile on her face as Lawrence shot a few photos and the crowd continued to applaud.

  “It certainly was.” Together they watched as Lulu accepted congratulations from others, including many of the contestants. Basically, everyone apart from Bianca Hyena. Eve searched the tent but could see no sign of the woman.

  Had she hightailed it out of there when she found out she wasn’t the winner? Could she be that sore of a loser?

  No doubt, Eve thought.

  As the crowd began to disperse, Wallace turned to face her and casually leaned over and gave her a quick hug. His touch felt warm and oddly sensual. “Well, it’s been great working with you today, Eve,” he said in smooth tones, pulling back and holding her hand lightly. “I’ve really enjoyed your company. Ren’s a very lucky man.”

  Eve resisted the urge to remove her hand from his, thinking it might appear rude. Instead, she smiled in a pleasant, noncommittal sort of way. “It was nice working with you too.” She glanced up and found herself gazing straight into his shining dark eyes. In that moment she found them oddly compelling. What was she reading in those eyes? she wondered. Was he just being friendly, or was there more to that look of his? Was Juniper right? Was he ogling her?

  And, if so, was that such a bad thing?

  She had to force herself to shift her gaze back toward the podium. “Lulu seems overjoyed. And she deserves to be.”

  “It’s too bad about your friend Mrs. Hart, though. I hope she’s feeling better.”

  “Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s resting right now.”

  “That’s good to hear. Did they take her to the hospital?”

  “No, I think she’s just up at the manor. My friend’s a nurse so she’ll most likely see her home.”

  “Is that right? Hmm. Someone at her age—wouldn’t it be better if she were in a hospital under observation for a few days?” He squinted up at the sun, then looked around, his gaze focusing in the distance.

  “Well, Clara doesn’t really like hospitals. People around here prefer private care. I’m sure Rebel is taking great care of her.”

  Abruptly he released her hand. “Well, I think it’s time for me to push on. I’m sure we’ll get a chance to meet again soon. Ah, look, here comes Ren.” He pointed across the snowy grounds.

  Eve turned to watch Ren walk toward them with long, athletic strides. He was looking particularly handsome today, his hair tussled, his face sun kissed, evidence that you could get a tan even in the winter.

  Wallace’s move had been clearly calculated, she knew. What was he up to?

  “So,” Eve said curiously, turning back to him, “what have you two got planned for this afternoon?”

  Wallace grinned. “There’s a hockey game on,” he said in a tone that told her it was time to get away from this boring event and into some real fun. “Ren and I are headed for wings and beer. Would you like to join us?”

  “That’s a real nice offer but I have to check on Clara and Rebel. Another time, okay?”

  “You sure?” Ren asked.

  “Positive. Have fun on your man date.”

  Okay.” Ren leaned forward and gave her a another quick, unexpected smooch. “I’ll call you and we can reschedule our own date. Less wings and more Italian.”

  Eve smiled. “Italian. And a bottle of Chianti.”

  “You got it.”

  They said their good‑byes, and as Lawrence and Wallace headed toward the parking lot, Eve touched her lips.

  Lawrence was rarely so affectionate as he’d been lately, especially in public, and especially at an event like this, where anyone could be watching.

  Maybe Juniper was right, and Ren could sense his friend’s impure thoughts. Was that man marking his territory? She asked herself. Finally, she shook her head. “Men,” she muttered. He might as well have lifted his leg and peed on her.

  With a certain amount of effort, she pushed all thoughts of Lawrence and Wallace from her mind. Right now, she had other things to do.

  She managed to find Ellie, who was shouting into her phone, “He did what?” and “Well, somebody get some hot water,” Eve tried to explain what she needed when Ellie paused but Ellie just pointed to L’il Mickey.

  Three minutes later, Mickey returned and handed her the forms then he disappeared to help Ellie with the situation. Apparently, one of the Ice Bar’s patrons—not a totally sober one—had accepted a dare and stuck his tongue to the bar.

  Eve quickly flicked through the sheets Mickey had handed her and traced her finger down the column until she came across pecan pie.

  Of course, there were two names listed but it wasn’t clear who had made which pie. Mallory had to have a more detailed form with identifying ingredients otherwise how would have they have known who won. Eve groaned. Oh, well. She wasn’t going back there now. For now, she knew that Bianca Hyena and Sharlene Spittle had made the pecan pies. Which meant one of them had stolen the doll from the house. What were the chances Clara was right about Hyena?

  Eve headed for the pie table; she was going to need to outright ask them. That was when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display screen.

  It was Rebel. She could hardly ignore it.

  She flipped open the phone and held it up to her ear. “Rebel? Where are you?”

  “Eve?”

  “Yes, what’s up? Did you take Clara home?”

  A pause. Then, in a voice that gave Eve a chill, Rebel said, “You’d better get over here right away.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Clara’s house. And we have a problem.”

  TWELVE

  E ve pulled the truck into Clara’s driveway, fishtailing a little as she slammed on the brakes. Without pausing to knock, she opened the front door and walked inside. “Hello?” she called as she yanked off her boots. She was halfway along the hallway when she was once again hit with that horrid odor. She made a face. “Oh my god, Clara must have forgot to put her garbage out yesterday. How could chicken and fish smell so bad?

  “Eve!” Rebel called from the second floor. “Is that you?”

  Eve hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the second floor she found the two of them in Clara’s back bedroom.

  The elderly woman was stretched out on an antique fourposter bed, snoring very loudly. Rebel turned toward Eve as she walked in. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Well. A couple of things. First, I think someone slipped Clara a sleeping pill.”

  “Who?” Eve asked.

  “I have no idea. She’s been sleeping since we got here.”

  “I wonder if someone put something in the pie? The timing is suspicious.”

  “Indeed. But didn’t you eat the pie while you were judging?”

  “I did.”

  “And you’re feeling okay?”

  “Right as rain.”

  “Well, then it couldn’t have been the pie unless someone managed to slip it inside just her piece. Were they labeled?”

  Eve nodded and lowered her voice. “Our judging stations were labeled and originally we each had our own section of pie slices, yes. Things got a little topsy-turvy after the fall. I can’t see where there’s anything to be gained by it though, unless...” Eve’s voice trailed off as a sudden thought came to her.

  “Unless what?”

  Eve glanced back over her shoulder, then said in a whisper only Rebel could hear, “Unless someone didn’t want her to finish judging the Bake-off. And they figured the best way to disrupt things was to make her feel sick and tired.”

  “I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

  “It certainly did.” Eve agreed.

  “I ran a tox screen, so we’ll know shortly.”

  “So, what’s the second thing.”

  “Secondly, there’s a dead body in the house.”

  “What?”

&
nbsp; Rebel looked around at Clara, then took Eve’s arm and led her out into the hallway, well clear of Clara’s room. “I’m almost positive,” she said in a worried whisper, “I recognize that smell.”

  “No. I smelled it in the kitchen the other day. I checked. It was just chicken and fish…” Eve let the sentence trail off, unable to finish it.

  “No, Clara’s garbage is empty. This is something else,” Rebel said. “And I know that smell….”

  Eve suddenly felt all cold inside. “Maybe we’re just overreacting. Maybe it’s just a dead critter in the walls.”

  Rebel chewed her lip for a few moments.

  “So where should we start? Did you look upstairs here?”

  Rebel shook her head. “The smell is stronger down there.”

  The putrid smell grew stronger as they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the hall that led to the kitchen.

  “I had a husband once who smelled this bad.” Eve said.

  “This is not the time to make jokes.”

  “Who’s joking? The guy was lactose intolerant. I thought about getting a pet skunk to make him feel better about himself.”

  Rebel looked back out into the hallway and pointed to two doors halfway along, underneath the staircase. “Where does that lead?”

  Eve winced. This house was practically identical to the next-door neighbors. “One’s the coat closet and the other is the root cellar? We checked Gwen’s cellar when she went missing. I never thought to check Clara’s.”

  Eve clenched her jaw tightly, pushing down her fear. Gingerly she turned the knob and pushed open the door.

  “Okay.” Rebel paused, breathing hard. “You go first. I’ll call the BLPD.”

  Her hand still holding her nose shut, Eve reached out to flick on the light switch, then stepped through the door onto a landing. With only a moment’s hesitation she started down the wooden steps, which creaked loudly as they descended.

  She looked all around just like she did at Gwen’s but there was nothing but canned and pickled food and old bicycles.

  “This is crazy,” Rebel whispered in a high voice behind her after confirming the address. “Where is that smell coming from?”

  They climbed back up the stairs and, on a whim, Eve pulled open the closet door next to the basement.

  Instantly they were assaulted by a smell that reminded her of decaying meat, only a hundred times worse. Eve held her hand to her nose and started breathing through her mouth, while Rebel coughed violently.

  Eve had to fight down a sudden urge to gag. Her eyes began to water.

  “Yes, I’m still here, and I think we’ve found a dead body at Clara Hart’s house,” was all Rebel could say.

  Eve’s eyes landed on the rolled-up carpet, propped in the corner.

  Slowly Eve reached out, feeling numb, as if she were outside of her own body and someone else was doing what she was about to do. Rebel didn’t move; she stayed back. Eve didn’t blame her. She couldn’t believe she was doing what she was doing. Only thoughts of Clara and her affection for Gwen, drove her on.

  Holding her breath, she placed her hand delicately on the rolled carpet in front of her.

  She started to lay it down, but it was so heavy and the weight so unevenly distributed that it fell on top of her—half in the closet and half out onto the hardwood floor of Clara Hart’s hallway. Rebel scrambled to pull her free, in their hurry, the edge fell away revealing the face of Gwen Barker.

  THIRTEEN

  T he body had started to bloat and the eyes bulged. The sickening smell permeated everything. There was no doubt Gwen had been dead several days. A half dozen police officers quietly but diligently searched the house, while a photographer took pictures and the EMTs waited to remove the body. Most of them wore face masks because of the smell, and they talked in low voices.

  Captain Cody Lumos of the Bohemian Lake Police Department had talked to them briefly before he sent them outside to recover. Rebel leaned against a wall, held a hand to her chest, and coughed uncontrollably. While Eve sat on the porch, watching the flashing lights of squad cars as she tried to keep the image of matted, blood-soaked hair out of her mind.

  When Gwen’s body had come loose, Eve had also noticed dark bruising on Gwen’s forehead and neck.

  “How long do you think she’s been in there?” Rebel asked.

  “My guess?” Eve said thoughtfully. “Since Clara’s doll was stolen. Right now, we have to think of Clara. There’s no way she can stay here. Not even with her terrible sense of smell. We could take her to Pike’s but with the new baby, I’m not sure either of them will like that.”

  “Why don’t I take her to the farmhouse with me,” Rebel said, her eyes twinkling, “Penny’s away right now and she’s always at Cody’s anyway so there’s plenty of room. The house has been kind of lonely lately. It wouldn’t be so bad to have someone around for a few days. And I think it’d be good for Clara too. I can help keep her mind off things. We’ll spike our tea and play some old people games.”

  “Old people games? You mean like Fortnite or Red Dead Redemption?”

  “Huh?” Rebel questioned.

  Eve smirked. “Who’s old now, girly.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean you. You’re basically a thirteen-year-old with dentures.”

  “These are not dentures! And if you’re talking about canasta or crib, I suggest you use their names. Us old people don’t like to be referred to as ‘old people.’”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  Eve turned at the sound of footsteps again. Captain Cody Lumos walked out onto the porch.

  He put a hand on Rebel’s shoulder. “She’s asking for you,” he said.

  Rebel straightened. “Guess I should get back. I’ll help her pack,” she said to the two of them. To Captain Lumos, she added, “I’m going to take her home with me for a few days.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

  He waited until Rebel had disappeared into the house, then dropped down beside Eve, sitting next to her on the porch steps. “So,” he began slowly, staring out toward the fading sun, “you want to give me the real scoop?”

  He waited patiently, his gaze focused on the trees over the rooftops, while Eve explained how Clara had fainted at the Bake-off, and how Rebel had driven the elderly woman back to her home, and about the call from Rebel, and how she and Rebel had checked the basement and then found the body in the closet. She even mentioned the missing doll and recipe and Clara’s suspicions about Bianca Hyena.

  When she was done, Captain Lumos turned his appraising gaze back toward her. “Anything else you’re conveniently leaving out? That doesn’t seem nearly as seedy as I’m used to.”

  Eve looked at him, giving him her best uncomprehending look. “Like what?”

  He sighed. “Well, for one thing, you usually know more than you let on.”

  Eve smiled. “That’s just your distrusting nature, Captain. I’ll try not to take it personally.”

  Cody swiped at the knees of his sharply pressed trousers, as if brushing away a layer of dust, and rose to his feet. He stepped down off the steps onto the pathway and turned to look her in the eye. “Oh, you can take it personally, Eve. Withholding information of any kind is a serious crime.”

  Eve brushed absently at her hair and squinted back at him. “What makes you think I’m withholding information?”

  “Let’s just say I’m good at spotting patterns.”

  “Don’t you pull that attitude with me, Lumos. I called the station,” Eve said, placing her hands on her hips. “I told the person I talked to that Gwen was missing. I did my best to notify you and your staff that something was wrong. Mal called you too.”

  Captain Lumos seemed taken aback by that bit of information. “I’ll have to check on that when I get back to the station. How about next time you call my cell, directly? You have my number?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, bump me to your speed dial then, okay? Especially if you suspect there’s a b
ody in a house. That way you won’t jeopardize crucial evidence when it falls on you.”

  “Fine.”

  “And Eve, I know you’re working for the Trubbles now and you’ve been promoted but amateur sleuthing is frowned upon, despite what Penny might have taught you. I mean it. Next time, call me first.”

  Eve looked up at him. “Next time?”

  The captain stopped and stared down at her for a moment. He gave her a pained smile, one she was familiar with. “Somehow, I get the impression this won’t be the last time.”

  Eve batted her eyes and smiled sweetly at him.

  FOURTEEN

  I t was bad enough they had a thief in Bohemian Lake, now they had a murderer and they were one and the same because whoever stole the doll with the recipe inside logically killed Gwen. Which meant the murderer was in the contest today because Eve was sure she’d tasted that pecan pie. So, who was the killer: Sharlene Spittle or Bianca Hyena?

  Eve shook her head. She could see one of them being a thief but neither of them seemed like murderers to her—unless perhaps you ripped up a first edition book in front of them. It was just too difficult to imagine either of them doing what had been done to Gwen.

  She sat down at her kitchen table and thought it over. She hadn’t made it back to the contestant’s pie stations because of Rebel’s phone call. So, she’d hadn’t found out who made what, but plenty of others had.

  She pulled out her cell and called her friend.

  “Yello?”

  “Mabe, did you sample both of the pecan pies at the Bohemian Lake Sugar & Ice Festival after the contest?”

  “Most people start with hello, Eve.” Her voice had that tone that told Eve she was smiling on the inside.

  “Sorry. Well, did you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you notice if one of them had bacon in it and if so, who’s pie was it in? Sharlene’s or Bianca’s?”

  Mabe was silent for a moment. “Bacon, huh? I never realized what it was—that makes sense. I don’t know who made what. Neither of them stuck around after. They both just left their pie tins. Why? Are you on the case?”