Killer Acorn Pie Read online

  Killer Acorn Pie

  The Pies and Pages Series, Book 16

  Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Also by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Author’s Note

  Contact Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Copyright 2018 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

  Created with Vellum

  Prologue

  Ronnie could feel her throat going dry as she stood in the hallway of the Clark building on Culver Hood’s Community College campus. As a petite young woman, she’d always been a little timid and shy. Even standing there waiting for her boyfriend to show up, she couldn’t help but hear her own mother’s voice in her head. “Stand up for yourself. Don’t let people walk all over you. Have a little confidence in yourself,” the ever-maternal figure would boom, her voice carrying through the walls of their tiny apartment where Ronnie grew up.

  The neighbors would knock on the wall to get them to be quieter, even though they played loud rap and R&B music late into the night.

  If nothing else, that angry voice from her mother made her close more into herself than ever before. Just thinking about the horrible memories made her shiver, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck. It wasn’t just the early snowfall that was sending chills through her body.

  Her heart was speeding up and tears began to collect in the corners of her eyes. Taking in a deep breath, she held it in for a count of four and let it out to the count of eight. She tapped her breastbone in sequence with her breathing, just the way her therapist had demonstrated to her, and the minor anxiety attack began to taper off.

  “You can do this. You can do this,” she repeated under her breath.

  “Do what, babe?” someone asked nearby.

  Ronnie let out a tiny yelp, jumping back in surprise at the sudden presence of her boyfriend. “Oh, sheesh, Dale. You scared me half to death.”

  He chuckled, smiling with half his mouth. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to,” he said in his smooth and warming accent—one of the many reasons she’d originally fallen for him—embracing her in a tight hug.

  Ronnie was stiff in his arms. “D-Dale?”

  “You ready to test out the room?” he beamed, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

  She chewed her lower lip, feeling guilty for wanting to break his exuberance for life down—even a notch. Part of the reason she liked him, loved him even, was his passion. She’d never seen him more passionate than right now, getting the first chance to run his escape room.

  “Where is Shiv?” she wondered, looking around for her old friend.

  “Oh, she texted me and said she was running late. I guess she got stuck working longer at that ol’ pie shop. You know, I sometimes wonder if that old lady who runs the place takes advantage of Shiv’s time.”

  Ronnie quietly shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. They’re really close and friendly, you know?” she defended her friend’s employer, having only ever heard good things about her from Shiv.

  “Friendship only makes it easier for Shiv to give in to that woman’s demands.”

  Ronnie didn’t enjoy the way her boyfriend said, “that woman.” She’d only met Bert, the owner of Pies and Pages, once. However, it was apparent then that she was a sweet lady who could make a mean pie. Shiv loved working there.

  Still, hating any sort of conflict, Ronnie didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t as if Dale was mean, but sometimes he didn’t see the whole picture. That could make him jump to some rude conclusions.

  “So, you ready or what, hon?” he asked, motioning toward the closed door of the room he and his fellow classmates had reserved for the business class project.

  “Am I the only one testing the room?” she questioned, having expected at least one or two others to be there.

  “I did have a couple a’ guys lined up to do it, but they bailed on me. They made last minute travel plans for the holiday and left early instead of waiting for the actual break,” he complained.

  Ronnie knew that was why her boyfriend had had trouble finding test subjects for his escape room in the first place. He was desperate to have people he knew and trusted try out the thirty-minute escape room before he opened it up to the public that weekend, but everyone was busy with holiday plans.

  “But, won’t they miss class?” she wondered.

  “Yeah, but a lot of students are doing it. I guess they just get work from the professors beforehand and take off.”

  Ronnie pursed her lips, twisting them to one side. Finally, she put on a smile, burying down all her worry, concern, and anxiety. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

  “Great. Since you’re doing it alone, I’ll give you fifteen extra minutes to solve it.” He slipped the key in the lock and opened the door, stepping aside with a big smile on his face.

  “T-Thanks,” she said timidly.

  “Once the door is closed, the clock on the wall will start, counting down the time.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking for the app he’d created to help run the escape room. “Once time is up, the game is over, and you lose. If you manage to open this door before the timer runs out, you’ll win and receive a final score based on when the clock stopped.”

  He waved his arm, inviting her in.

  She was worried about this, and even more worried about having to do it alone. She never had considered herself to be very smart. She’d always stunk at doing crosswords or sudokus. So, how did her boyfriend expect her to solve this escape room game on her own?

  Feeling like she had no other choice but to grin and bear it, she stepped through the door into the elaborately decorated room. Fake wall panels painted to look like an ornate dining room from a mansion covered the real walls. A dining room table draped in a red and gold cloth was decked out with a Thanksgiving feast made up entirely of fake plastic and foam foods.

  In honor of the season and knowing the room would be opened to the public during November, Dale went with the holiday theme.

  “Good luck,” he announced, shutting the door.

  As he did, Ronnie felt a sudden chill of dread run up and down her back. It suddenly felt cold inside and a strange low hum, like a tiny electronic motor running, echoed from the wall. She didn’t want to be locked in here, but the only way out was to play the game.

  Chapter One

  “Sheesh, these pre-orders are coming in like hot cakes,” Bert exclaimed, flipping through the growing stack of sheets attached to the clipboard in her hand. She’d made sure to decorate the sign-up with stickers of turkey’s, pilgrims, and cornucopias to add some festive flavor to the whole thing and entice buyers. “I have no idea how we will get these all done in time for Thanksgiving,” she sighed in true distress.

  She hadn’t expected this many orders for Thanksgiving pie this year, but it seemed their special promotion was kicking things into high gear.

  “Don’t worry. There’s three of us now,” Shiv smiled as she leaned into the large display
window. It was decorated to look like a Thanksgiving feast with a red, brown, and gold tablecloth laid across the original wood platform. China dishes from Bert’s own collection adorned the space, plated with real looking plastic food including Turkeys, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and more. Shiv was busy replenishing the plethora of cookbooks they had on sale for the holidays.

  Specifically, Bert had self-published her own book of pie recipes for the season. Shiv, who was tech-savvy, had been a big help in creating a layout, inserting free use pictures, and creating a cover. Bert was so impressed, she even wondered how her employee didn’t have a job in some sort of advertising field. As it was, she was grateful to have her on the team and made a mental note to ask her to create posters and ads in the future.

  The book was named after the shop, Pies and Pages, since it not only had recipes but also diary entries of memories from holidays past as well as book recommendations for those chilly evenings at home.

  Going through a local printer in the area, they had a bunch of spiral bound copies whipped up to sell at the shop. It turned out they’d greatly underestimated the number that would sell. They’d gone through so many books that Bert had made an emergency run back to the print shop to order more.

  Shiv finished replenishing the display and climbed back out, careful not to jostle anything. Turning her gaze upon the third woman who stood on a ladder near the bookshelf, she smiled. “I’m sure glad you got someone else to work through the holiday season because I know I couldn’t do it alone.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m the one who should be grateful since you gave me a job after my last one fell through so suddenly.”

  Bert folded her arms and looked up at her newest employee. “Wyn, Shiv is right, you are a godsend.” Despite only having been there a couple of weeks, Wyn already felt like a part of the Pies and Pages family in almost every way possible.

  Sliding the last of a stack of books into their respective spots on the shelf, Wyn climbed down. “And I’m sure Carla will help, too,” she said, referring to Bert’s best friend who seemed to be in the shop every day.

  Bert, who stood behind the pie counter, set the clipboard down and beamed at both of her young employees. Shiv, who was in her twenties, had straight black hair that framed her caramel colored eyes perfectly. Meanwhile, Wyn was in her early thirties and had thick curls of luscious dark hair that accented her heart-shaped features beautifully. “I’m sure she will insist on helping, but keep in mind that this is one of her busiest times of year as well,” she reminded them. “She’s the kind of woman who is always willing to bend over backward for her friends but doesn’t always know when she’s bitten off more than she can chew.”

  Bert’s closest friend owned her own shop just down the block from them called Christmas in July. It specialized in all manner of decorations, ornaments, and trinkets to warm up your home for the holiday. Bert’s favorite was always the little ceramic houses people used to make winter villages.

  Still, with Christmas fast on the approach, Carla would be swamped with sales herself. Bert refused to encroach on her as much as possible.

  “As a matter of fact, girls, don’t even mention how busy we are to her. I don’t want her stressing out over us when she has her own customers to worry about.”

  “You got it, boss,” Wyn said, giving a thumbs up.

  “That idea of yours is really paying off, Shiv,” Bert admitted, taking another quick look at the sign-up sheet. In fact, she’d been downright surprised at the response from her customers, seeing as they hadn’t done anything special to push the promotion. The only thing they’d done was put a sign in the window and at the register and include it in the weekly e-mail newsletter they sent out to subscribers.

  It wasn’t as though Bert doubted Shiv’s idea would pay off. She wouldn’t have even bothered utilizing it if she didn’t. Thinking it was a grand idea, she’d set it up.

  Anyone who pre-ordered at least three pies or more to pick up the weekend of Thanksgiving (either ready-made for baking or fresh out of the oven) would receive free tickets to the Escape room which Shiv’s business class was putting on at the community college.

  The response had been amazing.

  Shiv shrugged. “I honestly had no idea it would be so popular. I mean, it’s just a little college project after all. Nothing professional.”

  Bert pursed her lips. “You know, I’ve asked you a couple of times to explain it to me, but I still don’t quite understand what it is you guys are doing. People pay to get locked up in a room?” she wondered. The idea of it reminded her of something like a haunted house at an amusement park, except in this case, you weren’t allowed to leave.

  Shiv chuckled. “It’s okay. Basically, it’s like a puzzle.”

  “Right. A puzzle where you get locked in a room.”

  “I know, did you ever attend a murder mystery dinner party before?”

  Bert’s face immediately lit up with recognition. “Yes, I have. I love them. Everyone plays a character and has dinner together. You pretend you’re on a train or in a big mansion or something.”

  “And there is a mystery to solve,” Shiv completed the thought.

  “Yes, exactly. I think I’m understanding it more. So, it’s like a murder mystery party?”

  “Yep. Everyone goes into the room and the door is locked and a timer starts. Thirty minutes a session. In our room, we’ve gone with a holiday dinner theme. We have the whole place decorated to look like a fine dining room. We got the theater department to help with props and fake walls and stuff.”

  “It sounds intricate.”

  “Anyway, in our little story, the idea is that a family has been asked to come to a rich uncle’s house for dinner. However, the dinner has been poisoned.”

  “It’s not really poisoned, is it?” Wyn joked.

  Shiv laughed. “Of course, not. No one actually eats anything. All our food are props. The idea is that the only way for them to be included in the will and get the money is to find the antidote and survive.”

  “And let me guess. The poison kills them in exactly thirty minutes?” Bert said.

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Now I understand. It’s sort of an immersive theater experience.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. It really is a hoot. You should come try it with Carla.”

  “Sounds like a blast,” Bert said. She placed her hands on her hips. “Now, who wants to help me get these acorn squash pies going for today?” she asked, looking at the clock on the brick wall of the open kitchen and realizing it was already eight-thirty. They’d be opening at ten.

  “I can’t. I have to get down to the campus to help with the test runs before we open tomorrow.”

  “Oh, right. I nearly forgot. No problem. We’ll see you later.”

  Waving goodbye, Shiv grabbed her coat and headed out into the chilly November day.

  “Well, I’d be happy to cook up some pies,” Wyn said.

  Chapter Two

  Within the next hour, the whole shop began to fill with the pleasant scent of brown sugar, cinnamon, and ginger. Any unsuspecting customer may think that it was the all too familiar aroma of the famous American dish—pumpkin pie—on a cold November morning. However, it was more than that.

  A second sniff would reveal the nutty flavors associated with the often-savory acorn squash.

  For Bert, acorn squash was one of her favorite seasonal buys. As soon as the chill of autumn rolled in, she hadn’t hesitated to pop in at her local grocer in the downtown area and buy up as many of the dark green and yellow squashes as possible.

  She’d not ever considered using them in a pie before but got the idea when she accidentally forgot to buy pumpkins one weekend. They were both winter squashes with soft meat inside and a subtly sweet taste. Why couldn’t it work?

  Thankfully, she’d been surprised by the tasty results.

  “Gosh, I just want to eat a whole pie myself right now,” Wyn joked, taking a long and hefty whiff of the pie she
held in her autumn leaf patterned oven mitts.

  “It is tempting, isn’t it?” Bert agreed, counting out how many pies they’d finished so far. She’d insisted on doing a double batch since it was the Saturday before Thanksgiving and she estimated the turnout of customers to be huge. Even if folks were just coming in to pre-order pies for the upcoming holiday weekend, most couldn’t resist getting a warm slice for themselves while they were there. “Let’s put these in the warmer,” she said, opening the glass display case which housed heating coils that made sure every slice served was steaming and delicious.