Killer Easter Pie Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  KILLER EASTER PIE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  Killer

  Easter

  Pie

  A Pies and Pages Cozy Mystery

  Book Nine

  BY

  Carolyn Q. Hunter

  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.

  Author’s Note: On the next page, you’ll find out how to access all of my books easily, as well as locate books by best-selling author, Summer Prescott. I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on – reader feedback is very important to me. Please see the following page for my publisher’s contact information. If you’d like to be on her list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc…just shoot her an email and let her know. Thanks for reading!

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  KILLER

  EASTER PIE

  A Pies and Pages Cozy Mystery

  Book Nine

  PROLOGUE

  * * *

  Trap McCarthy was squeezed into the front driver seat of the tiny electric patrol car, his oversized belly straining against the seatbelt. Finishing the last bite of his donut, he rubbed his fingers together, freeing them of the remaining sugary crumbs which the pastry had left behind. Straining, a low grunt escaping his throat, he grabbed a hold of the paper coffee cup—a triple shot mocha delight with whipped cream and sprinkles (more sugar than coffee)—and sipped from the cup.

  On these late-night shifts on the Old Market security force, he relied on both sugary treats and caffeinated drinks to keep him awake.

  When he’d applied for this position over twenty years ago, he’d had no idea that eventually he would be stuck in this situation. He had never minded the job before and certainly didn’t mind the late-night stints. In fact, the earliest hours of the day were his favorite. They were quiet and calm as if the rest of the world had simply vanished.

  However, ever since the security company had upgraded their vehicles to electric, a move which he had strongly protested, his night shifts were miserable.

  These new-fangled electric cars were more like clown cars than a normal vehicle. He felt ridiculous sitting inside of the thing. Not only was he a big man in the waist, but he was also nearly six feet tall, meaning he had to cram inside the seat like a sardine trapped in a can.

  The arthritis in his knees had been killing him, and his digestion problems had simply mounted over the past months. It simply wasn’t natural for a man of his stature to be forced into such an enclosed space.

  To add insult to injury, the company had updated all its systems. Now, everything was automated through a cell phone app. Each building in the district had a security system that would ping his phone if it was set off. It was his job, then, to drive over and check out the location.

  He’d been required to attend a week-long seminar that instructed all the security personnel how the system worked.

  Trap hated smartphones and disliked all the forced technology even more. Why couldn’t he just do his job the old way, driving around and checking on the stores every half hour or so?

  Not anymore. To conserve energy and resources, he only did a drive around every hour or so. He was supposed to rely on the app to tell him if there were any serious problems.

  The whole thing was a joke, in his mind.

  Speaking of the app, his phone which was attached to the dashboard lit up, shining its light on his face. A familiar beeping noise, meaning that a security system had been tripped, came on. Blinking through the harsh light, he tapped the screen of the phone and found out where the notification was coming from.

  Jefferson Jewelers, a premier store that specialized in selling exotic and interesting pieces, was the mark.

  “Time to go,” Trap said out loud, happy for something to do.

  Ninety-nine percent of the time, these trips were a false alarm. Either the owner had decided to come in at an odd hour and forgot to disable the alarm, or there was some sort of minor malfunction. Heck, even a bird or a squirrel getting too close to a window had the chance of tripping a sensor.

  Starting up the car, the motor hummed to life.

  As far as Trap could tell, the thing was barely audible to other drivers. Pulling out of the alley, he headed down the street a few blocks to where the shop was. Stopping just out front, he unbuckled himself and slid out of the seat.

  Facing the shop window, he instantly realized something was wrong. This was no false alarm. Someone in a black hoodie was bent over one of the displays inside and the glass had been shattered.

  Pressing the button on his cell phone app to notify police, he pulled out his black baton from his belt and headed for the building. If possible, he needed to detain the suspect until police could arrive.

  It was clear that the lock on the glass front door of the shop had been jimmied open. Pushing his way inside, he raised his baton and turned on his shoulder flashlight to show he meant business. “You, stop right there!” he shouted.

  The assailant looked up from his work, clutching the stolen item in one hand. Trap could easily see that it was some sort of jeweled egg with gold trim.

  Then the beam of light caught the thief’s surprised expression.

  The guard’s jaw dropped. “You?”

  In the brief opening, the thief took their chance. Grabbing a hold of a piece of broken glass with a gloved hand, the point found its way home in Trap’s belly.

  Before he could even process what had hit him, the security guard found himself on the floor. Seconds later, he blacked out.

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  “Did you see what is happening down the street?” Carla asked as she stepped inside of Pies and Pages.

  Bertha Hannah, the owner of the combination pie and bookstore, looked up from her work at the counter as her best friend entered. “Is the Easter parade already starting?” she asked, peering out the front windows onto the cobblestone streets to see if any floats in the shape of baby chicks or bunnies were headed their way. “They would be starting way too early,” she noted, knowing the parade wasn’t planned to run until ten. It w
as only eight and Bert had a lot of pies to make still.

  “No, no. Not the parade. Did you see Jefferson Jewelers?”

  “Did that old bump on a log finally decide to decorate for the event this year?” Bert scoffed, knowing how much Jacob Jefferson detested celebrations and parties. He was an elderly man in his late seventies who took great pride in his profession. However, he wasn’t much of a people person and always turned down the Old Market district’s requests to participate in city events.

  Today was the annual Easter parade, followed by the picnic lunch in the park, and topped off with a huge Easter Egg Hunt for all the kids. Businesses from the Old Market could participate by donating either food or services to the event, but it was mainly a collaboration of various church congregations from around the city.

  Bert knew their own Pastor Chimney would be in attendance and had organized several tasty dishes to be served at the lunch buffet.

  Bert loved it because she enjoyed seeing various groups and types of people come together in celebration of the spring season.

  “No, he didn’t decorate,” she proclaimed.

  “It figures.” She cracked another egg into the silver bowl she was using to make a pie filling.

  “No, the place was robbed.”

  Taking interest for the first time since her friend arrived, Bert looked Carla in the eye. “He was robbed?”

  “That’s right, and one of the security guards was stabbed and left at the scene of the crime.”

  Bert let her jaw fall open. “You’re kidding. Which one?”

  “I’m not totally sure, but the whole store has cops around it. They’ve got yellow police tape up and everything.”

  Bert shook her head in disbelief as she picked up her favorite red silicone coated whisk and started to beat the eggs, sugar, salt, and vanilla extract together. “That’s unbelievable. Do the police have any leads yet on who was behind it?” Bert asked, cradling the bowl under one arm as she whisked away.

  Carla shrugged her shoulders, finally removing her light jacket and hanging it on the hook. “I don’t know. I was walking over here to help you with the pies and just saw the police barricade set up around the shop. I overheard one of the cops mention a dead security guard.”

  “On Easter, too. Hopefully, it doesn’t put a kink in our Easter Egg Hunt this year.”

  “I hope not, too,” Carla agreed, grabbing one of Bert’s extra apron’s and slipping it over her head. “Hey, you don’t have another cute apron like that one, do you?” she asked, motioning to Bert’s spring style apron. It had green, grassy fields on it with fresh blooming flowers and even a cute little yellow chick in the center.

  “Sorry. This is my only Easter themed one.”

  “Well, darn,” Carla complained, looking down at her plain blue one.

  “At least it’s blue,” Bert noted.

  “I guess.” She said, coming to stand by Bert. “Where is Shiv?” she asked about Pie and Pages only other employee besides the owner.

  “It’s her day off,” Bert pointed out, adding some milk she had warming on the stove to her egg mixture. “We’re always closed on Sundays.”

  “You mean she isn’t going to be at the Easter celebration?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How can she miss it?”

  “Maybe she wanted to stay home and curl up in front of the TV.”

  “Stay at home during one of the best celebrations of the year? It’s such a beautiful day out, too.”

  Bert rolled her eyes. “Everyone enjoys celebrating holidays in their own way, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Picking up a little dropper, Bert added a few drops of yellow food coloring to the mix. “Also, she deals with people all week long. Maybe she just wanted some alone time on her day off. Either that or she could simply go to a different church that isn’t participating in the event this year.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I guess she can make her own decisions. She’s a good girl, after all.”

  “That she is. She is a life saver for me here at the shop. I honestly don’t think I could stay open without her.” Pulling one of the premade graham cracker pie crusts toward her, she poured the filling into the dish. “Besides, I just couldn’t ask her to come in on a Sunday to make pies that we were donating to the Easter Egg Hunt.”

  “That’s why I’m here. It’s not like my store is open today, either,” Carla beamed. She owned the Christmas in July shop down the street and around the corner. “What can I do to help?”

  “Can you brush the rest of those crusts with the egg whites I set aside? It helps keep them from getting soggy while they cook.”

  “On it,” she announced marching over to the far end of the counter while Bert prepared more pie filling.

  “Is your brother going to attend?” Bert asked.

  “No. He’s too busy,” Carla replied in a mocking tone.

  “Busy? What are his plans?”

  “He’s not even in town,” Carla revealed.

  “Not in town? How can he expect to get his new chiropractic practice off the ground if he leaves town before things have even gotten going?”

  Carla gave a wicked smile, raising one eyebrow. “He’s visiting Sharon Shatner.”

  “The widow?” she asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  Bert clicked her tongue in a shameful sound, surprised that those two would spend time together so soon after Sharon’s husband’s death. Biting her lower lip, she inwardly scolded herself for judging them. It wasn’t her place to decide what was best for other people.

  All this talk about other people was making her uncomfortable. It almost felt like gossip, and she couldn’t stand gossip. She believed in giving people the freedom to do as they pleased, so long as it didn’t hurt someone else. Too often in her circle of friends and acquaintances, she found the conversation moving more and more toward judgments and whispers about others.

  She decided to change the subject.

  “What do you think got stolen from Jefferson’s store?” she asked, whisking the eggs.

  “Who knows? Probably something expensive.”

  “Oh, well. Let’s try not to think about it. It’s Easter Sunday, after all,” Bert said. While the shop owner tried to attend church each weekend, her favorite sermon of the year was always Easter. She loved ending the day with food, games, and good company on a comforting, hopeful note.

  This year she was particularly excited. Ever since she’d opened Pies and Pages, she’d participated less in church activities. She no longer cooked pies for the weekly youth group meetings, and even missed the occasional Sunday while she tried to catch up on rest for the next week.

  “What time is Pastor Chimney’s sermon today?” Carla asked, almost reading Bert’s mind.

  “After the Easter Egg Hunt in the garden at about three. I also heard the choir has prepared a new hymn to sing.”

  “That sounds lovely. They’re always so good.”

  “Not always,” Bert joked. Since the choir was based on volunteers from the congregation, you didn’t always get the best mix of voices. However, seeing them get up together and try their hardest was always nice.

  “You know, why don’t we ever participate in the choir?” Carla asked, finishing the final crust.

  “Because neither one of us can sing,” Bert laughed out loud.

  “Hey, speak for yourself.”

  A knock on the glass of the door caused both women to look up. Standing outside the shop with a none-too-happy look on his face was Detective Harry Mannor of the city’s homicide division.

  Setting down the mixing bowl and wiping her hands on her apron, Bert walked over and opened the door. “Morning, Harry. How are you?” she greeted him.

  “Not so great, I’m afraid,” he replied stepping in and giving Bert a hug. The detective had been going on the occasional date with the pie shop owner over the previous months and the two had grown closer—despite still having some hang-ups and difference
s in their relationship.

  “Is it the robbery?” Carla asked from behind the counter.

  “I’m afraid so. It looks like I won’t be able to come to the Easter picnic with you.” He placed his hands on Bert’s shoulders as he apologized. She wondered just how disappointed he really was. When she’d invited him, he’d been somewhat reluctant to agree to go. He wasn’t much for crowds or parties. He also was aware that his opinionated personality often rubbed people the wrong way.

  “That’s okay. I know you’re probably busy with there being a murder and all.”

  He managed a chuckle. “At least this time I didn’t find you in the middle of it.”

  “Thank God for that,” she agreed with a hearty laugh of her own. She walked back behind the counter. “I’ll make sure to save you a piece of pie.”

  “Thanks a million.”

  “Will this affect the parade at all?” Carla asked.

  Mannor tilted his mouth to one side, brushing his grey mustache back and forth. “We’re discussing it now, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad,” Bert said. “The kids will be disappointed.”

  “Well, maybe we can just park the floats next to the park for everyone to see. In any case, there is still delicious food and an Easter Egg Hunt to look forward to.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Bert said. She looked back at Harry. “Can you tell us what was stolen?” she asked again.

  “Funnily enough, it was a very expensive and rare jeweled egg. One of those that opens and has a solid gold chicken or something inside. I don’t have the full description from the store owner quite yet, but I’m getting it.” He gave a little wave and stepped back toward the door. “Anyway, ladies, I’ll see you another day.”

  “Bye. Good luck with the investigation,” Bert said.

  They both waved as he went out the door and back to the crime scene.

  CHAPTER 2