Killer Acorn Pie Read online

  The new acorn squash themed dish was slightly more golden brown than the usual orange and brown tones of a pumpkin pie. The crust was its own special creation as well. It was a combo of flour, brown butter, sugar, and cornmeal. A light egg wash helped hold it all together in one pretty package.

  The filling itself was a combination of cooked and pureed acorn squash, condensed milk, brown sugar, and local honey—not to mention the usual seasonings of fall that you’d traditionally find in a pumpkin pie.

  When a knock came at the front door of the shop, Bert was still bent over putting pies away and managed to shout over her shoulder, “We open at ten,” since she knew that it couldn’t be opening time quite yet.

  “Bert, it’s that detective friend of yours,” Wyn chimed in.

  Bert instantly straightened up, looking at the tall boxy figure standing just outside. “Oh, you’re so right,” she said, rushing over and opening the door and ringing the bell.

  “Morning, Bert. I know you’re not open yet,” Detective Harry Mannor admitted in jest, having heard her try and call him off—thinking he was a normal customer. He was wrapped up in his usual tan trench coat, this time with a long black scarf around his neck. His ears and nose were unprotected, except for the bit of facial hair on his upper lip and had a ruddy look about him.

  To Bert, he almost seemed like a character out of a Charles Dickens novel, coming in off the cobbled street.

  “Since when have you been constrained by the hours of this establishment?” she chuckled, stepping aside and waving him into the warmth of the shop. A bitter chill followed him in for a second before she was able to shut the door.

  By the looks of the gray clouds and the way the wind almost cut through you like a knife, Bert wondered if they might get a little snow later that day. It had already snowed once that year in October, so it would be no surprise if they ended up with a white Thanksgiving.

  “You want some coffee?” she asked him, stepping back behind the counter.

  “Always,” he agreed, walking over and leaning on the display case.

  “Must be a slow morning if you’re stopping in,” she pointed out.

  “That’s something to be grateful for, believe me,” he grunted, basically admitting there hadn’t been any recent homicide cases to speak of. Bert was happy to hear that, considering they’d had their fill of murders in Culver’s Hood in the past year. She’d been a little too close for comfort to a few of them and being the girlfriend of the city’s oldest leading homicide detective didn’t help.

  Harry was excellent at his job, but also had a rough personality when it came to working. He was overprotective and standoffish toward Bert whenever a case was in full-blown investigation mode.

  Having a calm boyfriend around the holidays was something to rejoice.

  Brushing his mustache back and forth, Harry planted both hands on the glass as he eyeballed the freshly made acorn squash pies on display.

  “You want a piece?” she offered, knowing full well what his answer would be. She refrained from a reprimand about the handprints he’d leave behind for her to clean off. It was the kind of behavior you expected from a kid, not a man in his sixties.

  Still, she wasn’t going to fault him over a tiny thing like that.

  “Do you even have to ask?” he laughed.

  “Coming right up,” she announced, pointing one finger up toward the ceiling before diving back into the heated display case to get out one of the pies.

  As she came back out with a pie, Bert finally noticed Wyn, who was standing awkwardly in the corner behind the counter. As soon as their eyes met, the young woman put on a pained smile. “I-I think I’ll work on the new inventory in the back,” she suggested, almost stumbling out from behind the counter and disappearing into the stock room.

  There was a pause, both Harry and Bert staring after Wyn as the door closed behind her.

  “Is she okay?” Harry asked.

  “She’s fine, but I think she still gets a tad uncomfortable around you,” Bert pointed out.

  “Me?” he protested.

  Bert gave a sympathetic half smile and a shrug. “Well, you know, you did have her brought in for questioning as the main suspect in a murder case,” she reminded him, thinking of how her new employee had been seemingly connected to a murder around Halloween the previous month.

  Harry huffed disappointedly. “I suppose that makes sense. One of the downsides of the job, people get a bad taste in their mouth about me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, no one is ever friends with a homicide detective, especially once I’ve investigated a case that either involves them or someone they care about.”

  Bert put her hands on her hips. “So, how did I end up as your girlfriend, then?” she teased, thinking back to when they first met. A body had been found in the back office of the shop right after she’d bought it.

  “I got lucky,” he said with a big goofy grin that he rarely showed to anyone else but Bert, taking a seat at one of the small tables nearby.

  Bert tried not to roll her eyes, knowing he might be hurt by the gesture.

  “Expecting a big crowd today?” His eyes were on the plethora of pies they’d made.

  “Are you kidding? The week before Thanksgiving is always the busiest time of the year. I don’t know how we’ll manage this time around.” She sighed, her eyes looking at the pre-order sign-up sheet again.

  “Well, things are slow at the station,” he shrugged, holding out both hands in a form of supplication, “maybe I could come and help out here.”

  Bert’s eyes widened. “Help here? At the shop?” she wondered.

  “Yeah, why not? It’ll give me a chance to spend more time with you.”

  Bert realized her mouth was hanging open and she quickly closed it, shaking her head. “I’m just surprised you even offered. You don’t seem like a man who enjoys baking.”

  “Well, maybe not the baking part, but I do enjoy paperwork and cataloging,” he admitted. “I’m sure I can move books or boxes or anything else to help out.”

  It took a special kind of man, and a special kind of person in general, to enjoy mindless busy work like inventory, stocking books, and all the other small necessities of running a bookstore. Bert herself didn’t mind a little work like that. It was why she knitted on occasion. A nice methodical and repetitive task. Did her boyfriend really enjoy that kind of activity or was he just saying that, so he could spend more time around her?

  The bigger question was, did she want Harry in the shop this week of the holidays?

  On the one hand, Bert wasn’t sure it would be easy to have him in the shop for an extended period. Would she be able to show him what to do and how to do it without it being more work on her part? On the other hand, just the fact that he was offering to help was the sweetest thing in the world.

  It somewhat reminded her of her deceased husband who’d always been willing to bend over backwards for her.

  Finally, she gave him a big smile. “Honestly, Harry? I’d love your help.”

  He folded his arms, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “If you can take some of the smaller duties off my hands, I know making up all those pies will be much easier.”

  “I figured as much. I saw that sign in the window about your promotion and figured you must have the customers flying in.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

  “Because those escape room things are really popular right now,” he pointed out, much to Bert’s surprise.

  How was it that her boyfriend seemed to know more about this phenomenon than she did? “You’ve heard of them?”

  “I’ve been to one,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

  “Oh?” she said, her lips curling into a circle.

  “Yep. It was sort of a department activity that the chief set up a few months ago. A ‘team building exercise,’ he said.” Harry chuckled. “I think that he just wanted an excuse to try one of them out.�
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  “I guess so,” she said, realizing she’d never gotten him his pie. She cut into the dish in front of her. “You enjoyed it?”

  “I thought it was fun and creative. The one we did had a room all set up to look like the inside of a spaceship. The idea was that there was an air leak we had to fix before we ran out of oxygen.”

  “Sounds stressful.”

  “It’s fun, trust me.” He jabbed a finger at the sign in the window. “We should go to this one together.”

  Bert plated the piece of pie and walked over to the table, setting it down in front of him. “Sure, why not?” she beamed, liking the idea of a date at the escape room.

  Harry didn’t touch his pie right away, which was unusual. He clasped his hands together. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask as well.”

  Without knowing why, her heart began to pick up speed. Between the hushed tone of his voice and the nervous way he clasped his hands, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was he was about to ask her. It seemed like it had to be big.

  “What is that?” she wondered.

  “Well—” he started.

  The familiar buzz of his cell phone stopped him in his tracks. Digging into his pocket, he looked at the screen of his phone. He lifted a finger for her to be patient with him. “Hold on. It’s a work call.”

  “Not a problem,” she admitted with a sigh.

  Much to her surprise, there was another buzzing noise. This time it was her own phone. “Huh?” she wondered, rushing behind the counter and picking it up from where she’d laid it. The caller ID told her it was Shiv. “Hello?” she asked, having pushed the answer button.

  “B-Bert, can you come to get me?” she asked through a strained voice, holding back a sob.

  “What is it, Shiv? What’s going on?”

  “It’s my friend. Ronnie. She’s dead.” Bert gasped, her eyes darting over to Harry who was hanging up.

  “I’ve got to get down to the college.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Bert insisted, not waiting for his permission.

  Chapter Three

  Taking her own car, Bert drove closely behind Harry, following him onto the community college campus. While she already knew they were headed the same place, she had a sick feeling they were going for the same reason. A young woman was dead, and a friend of Shiv’s no less. Harry being called in simply meant that the first responders and the police department suspected there may be foul play involved.

  Of course, Harry often investigated any death that didn’t seem ordinary, and a young woman up and dying hardly seemed normal.

  As usual, when Bert had told him she was coming to the campus as well, her boyfriend and had told her no. He’d adamantly said he didn’t want her anywhere near a potential crime scene. He wasn’t a fool, after all, already knowing her penchant for getting involved in investigations.

  He wouldn’t be the first to openly admit she’d been the crux to catch multiple killers in the past, but deep down in his gut, he knew it.

  Bert had also learned a thing or two while finding herself mixed up in previous homicide cases. The main thing she knew was that it was important to stay out of the way of the police and let them do their job. She trusted them, especially Harry, as the professionals here.

  Of course, if she wasn’t doing anything illegal like tampering with evidence or obstructing justice, she felt no reason she couldn’t ask some questions or do some digging on her own.

  It became especially hard in instances where someone she loved and cared about was somehow dragged into the mix—like her beloved employee who was more like a daughter, Shiv.

  That was the only reason Harry had relented this time in allowing her to follow along to the campus. Shiv had specifically called Bert for help, and she knew he might need to give the young woman a ride somewhere after all the preliminary questions and investigating was done.

  Much to Bert’s surprise, once they passed the welcome sign for the community college, Harry didn’t bother parking in the lot and instead pulled right up the grassy hill and onto the concrete walkway of the quad between the campus’ main buildings.

  Bert, knowing she couldn’t get away with the same action, being a normal civilian and not a cop, parked as close as she could in the parking lot and got out. Throwing her purse over her shoulder, she marched up the steps to the quad.

  Wreaths of fake gold, yellow, and auburn leaves adorned the lamp posts in honor of the season. However, against a backdrop of potential murder, no amount of holiday festiveness or thankfulness could detract from the harrowing situation.

  The quad already had three other cop cars, lights flashing, sitting outside the Smythe Student Activity Center.

  Bert had rarely been on the campus before but had listened to many students who also happened to be customers at Pies and Pages, talk about the activity center. They held fairs there, as well as mini-conventions, special dinners, and much more. On a day to day basis, it acted as a social hub for the students with a cafeteria, a coffee lounge, and even private study rooms.

  Bert was already piecing some thoughts together and could only assume that the escape room that had been planned was being held at the center.

  As she got closer, she saw that the policemen were just starting the process of putting up caution tape all around the outside of the building. New officers were arriving on the scene, rushing to cover all the potential exits from the building.

  Any unsuspecting student who was inside would be asked questions and their information taken down for potential later use.

  It was hardly the way to spend a day when you already had finals on the horizon. For many students, Thanksgiving break was hardly a break at all, but a time to finally catch up on some last-minute studying before the final weeks of the semester.

  Bert did not miss being in college, or any school for that matter, one bit.

  “Ma’am, this is a crime scene. Please step back,” one of the officers ordered, holding up a hand to stop her.

  Harry was already behind the newly put up police tape, chatting away with one of the men—most likely the first responder to the scene.

  “Oh, my employee is in there and I need to see her,” Bert insisted.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one is allowed in and no one is allowed out without questioning.”

  “I just need to see her and make sure she is okay,” she pushed the issue, hoping that Shiv wasn’t in too much of an upset state. It was hard to lose a friend, especially so suddenly.

  Bert had no idea what sort of case this could be. A beating? Stabbing? Shooting? Depending on the method of death, things could be pretty unsightly.

  However, Shiv had simply said her friend was dead on the phone, not murdered. Perhaps the method of passing wasn’t as horrible as it could be—not to make light of death.

  “You need to take a step back now, ma’am,” the young officer reiterated.

  “Bert,” a familiar voice shouted. Shiv came running out of the building, past the officer, and right into Bert’s open arms.

  “Hold on, now,” the young uniformed man demanded, his face red with anger and embarrassment that he had let the woman past him.

  “Cool it, Flannigan,” Harry grunted, marching over to them.

  “But, Detective.”

  “They’re fine. I already have information for the both of them. Trust me, they will be questioned in due time,” he ordered, narrowing his gaze at him.

  “Sir, with all due respect. We can not make exceptions. Not for anyone,” he argued, trying to keep his voice calm but still allowing a small angry squeak of protest to weasel its way through.

  “Did you not hear me, Flannigan?” Harry barked. “Things are under control. Your job is to stand here and make sure no one else leaves or tries to come in without my permission. You got it?” He jabbed a finger in the man’s face, meaning business.

  The officer paled. “Very well, sir.” He turned toward the two women. “You may go for now. However, you won�
��t be getting back in here again soon, so I hope you have everything you need,” he scoffed, looking at the young woman who’d gotten passed him.

  The man had bristled at the fact that his authority had been seemingly undermined (at least whatever amount of authority he had as a patrol officer). Bert had met other men like him before, people who got into law enforcement or other jobs of authority just so they could feel powerful, commanding, like they could control people. It was the same kind of person who pushed their way to the top of a management position at a department store or fast food joint and then made life miserable for everyone else underneath them no matter who they were or how hard they worked.