Killer Chocolate Pecan Pie Read online

  Bert wrinkled up her nose, unhappy that her friend had brought that up again. A sales promotion had done far, far better than she had ever expected, leaving her to scramble to get hundreds of pies done in only the span of a couple of days. “Let’s not talk about that, okay?”

  “If you say so,” noted Carla. “But this time you’re not even getting paid for it.”

  “Carla,” Bert scolded, drawing out her friend's name like a mother scolding a child.

  “Okay, okay. The subject is over.”

  It hadn’t helped that the whole sale had been tangled up in a local murder on the community college campus. Thank goodness that had all gotten cleared up before December opened its doors.

  The historic buildings of downtown whizzed by, all dressed in snow, the windows frosted with ice. Everyone had decorated for the season, filling their windows with glowing lights and garlands. Most shops and businesses had at least one tree set up.

  It really was a wonder to behold.

  With the radio in the car quietly playing Bing Crosby in the background, Silver Bells was one of Bert’s favorites, the mood had been set for the holiday.

  “So, what is Harry up to for the holidays?” Carla asked, changing the subject as requested, but landing on another topic Bert wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss.

  Detective Harry Mannor was the head of the homicide division of the Culver’s Hood Police Department. He was a rock of a man, gruff and a little rude on the outside.

  He also happened to be Bert’s boyfriend of the past year.

  “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked a whole lot about it.”

  “He hasn’t talked to you or you haven’t talked to him?” Carla inquired, turning in her seat and sending narrowed glances at her friend.

  Bert shifted uneasily, pressing her lips together. “Well, I guess I haven’t been talking to him as much.”

  “And why not?” she asked, throwing up her hands.

  “I don’t know. Things just seem a tad awkward now, I guess.”

  “What? Why?”

  Bert was quiet again.

  “I thought you had a good Thanksgiving meeting his mom,” Carla noted.

  Bert shrugged with only one shoulder. “We did. That’s true. The retirement home where his mom lives is quite nice.”

  “And she was nice?”

  “Of course. I already said that before.”

  “Yes, yes you did. What’s the trouble then?”

  Bert waited to answer, trying to formulate her thoughts into a cohesive sentence. Trying to explain your feelings never got easier the older you got, she realized. It was still difficult to communicate your exact worries, fears, and inner conflicts. “I guess it just seems a little odd that Harry didn’t even tell me about his mother until last month.”

  Carla snuggled down in the passenger seat a little. “Doesn’t seem all too big a deal to me. He’s a private man, is all.”

  “Or he’s too afraid to share the most important parts of his life, his emotions, his love, his family, with me,” Bert found herself blurting out in a waterfall of worries.

  “Perhaps, yes. Or maybe he was scared to share those things.”

  “But why?”

  “Scared what it could mean. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

  Bert was silent, watching the road as she got on the highway that led across town.

  Carla, realizing the hesitancy in her friend, sat up and leaned over the center console of the car. “Did he scare you off?”

  Bert licked her lips. “I don’t know. I know I could have asked him sooner about his family, his life outside of police work.” With as much sleuthing as she did, helping Harry solve murders all over Culver’s Hood, she felt like she should have seen something as simple as her own boyfriend’s mother.

  “And you. Don’t forget you in this equation.”

  “Yes. In our whole relationship, all I saw was that he was a detective who was overly absorbed in his own work and that besides that, I was the only other element to his life.”

  Carla folded her arms, a humorous smile on her lips.

  “What?”

  “A bit self-centered, huh?”

  She shook her head. “No, not at all. I just assumed he was completely dedicated to his work and that I played second fiddle to that.”

  “Ah ha!” Carla exclaimed. “And now you’re worried that it wasn’t work you were playing second fiddle to. It was his mother.”

  Bert had to admit there was some truth to that. “After all, Harry visits his mother on a weekly basis. How could I miss something that big?”

  “How could he not tell you something that big?” Carla retorted.

  Bert hummed to herself, thinking. “Maybe he saw that as a big step. Maybe it was the whole ‘meet the parents’ situation that threw him off.”

  Carla leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “But maybe there is something else?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you are worried it’s moving too fast.”

  “What are you even talking about?” she said defensively.

  “Don’t play dumb, Bertha Hannah. You’re just as scared of committing to this relationship as he is. It took you guys forever to finally agree to go out on the first date, forever for you to agree to be in a dedicated relationship, and even longer to have your first kiss.”

  Bert clucked her tongue irritably. “Well, you sure seem to know a lot about my relationship.”

  Carla tilted her head to one side. “Come on. This is the first guy you’ve dated in years. The only other guy you ever dated was your husband.”

  Bert swallowed hard, thinking of her deceased spouse. He’d been her whole life, the light that gave her meaning. Thinking of him, especially now during the holidays, made her sad. She slumped down in her seat. “I just don’t know if anyone else could ever measure up.”

  “How do you know if you don’t give it a chance? Harry took a big step inviting you to meet his mother. Now it’s your turn to meet him halfway.”

  “I don’t see how,” Bert mumbled, wishing she’d never asked to change conversation topics. She knew her friend was right. There was an anxious nervousness she’d felt ever since Thanksgiving. Harry’s mother had been a sweetheart, but something she said stuck with Bert.

  “I thought this would never happen, but here you are,” the elderly woman had praised.

  Those few words had scared Bert. Clearly, on her side of things, there was an assumption that Harry and Bert were in it for the long haul. Is that how Harry himself felt? Could it be he’d brought her to see his mother as a motion of just how serious he was about the relationship?

  Bert wasn’t so sure she herself was one hundred percent committed to Harry.

  Her mind began to spin with the possibilities. Could it be that Harry was planning on pushing their relationship further? Was this just a stepping stone to him proposing?

  She could feel her heart speed up, shaking her whole body with its nervous beats.

  What if he was concerned about his mother passing before she could see her own son step up to the altar once and for all? Could he be pressuring himself into going faster just for his mother?

  She prayed it wasn’t so.

  She’d been so reluctant to get into a relationship in the first place but had given into her friend’s encouragement.

  Still, she couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed having someone to lean on again, someone to snuggle up with on a cold night and watch old movies. It obviously didn’t replace her deceased husband, Howie, but it did have a warm familiarity to it. There had been so many great moments together with Harry over the past year.

  She thought of last Christmas, how Harry had tried so hard to impress her. He’d gone so far as to purchase her a video game system with a sci-fi themed game she’d fawned over. That had been a great holiday, the best she’d had in the years since Howie had passed.

  Carla was right. Bert owed Harry the benefit of the doubt, and the chance to discuss
where they thought their relationship might be going. They had seen each other since Thanksgiving but hadn’t been out on any dates.

  She would be lying if she didn’t admit that she was beginning to feel a little lonely and was looking forward to still spending the holiday with him. With Carla going out of town, it would be a very lonely Christmas if Bert decided not to spend it with Harry.

  “You’re right. I guess I’ve just been nervous about where things are going.”

  “Naturally. When all that serious stuff comes up, you’ll know what to do,” Carla encouraged her. “You always do.”

  Bert doubted that but was happy for her friend’s support, nonetheless.

  “By the way. Have you heard about the choir?” Carla asked, changing the subject again out of respect for Bert (who had become visibly uncomfortable thinking about her boyfriend this Christmas).

  Bert cocked one eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course, I’ve heard the choir sing.”

  “No, no. Have you heard that Pastor Chimney changed the Christmas choir director this year?”

  Bert’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. Old Gracie is out of there.” Carla made a motion like a baseball ref.

  “I’m not going to complain. Gracie and I never much saw eye to eye.”

  “That’s an understatement. If anything, watching you two interact is like watching one of those teen made-for-tv movies.”

  “Huh?”

  “Gracie, no matter how old she is, fits the mold of your stereotypical mean girl if I’ve ever seen it,” she explained.

  Bert began to understand, picturing it in her mind. “My goodness, you’re right.”

  “I mean, she never hesitates to undermine or insult you.”

  Bert grunted unhappily at the memory. “That’s true. It’s always, ‘too bad your pie didn’t turn out,’ during bake-offs. Or ‘You did know this was a chili cook-off, hon, right?’ during the autumn festivals.” She could honestly go on and on. It didn’t matter what the church function was, Gracie always managed to find a way to insult Bert and her cooking.

  It was ironic really, considering Bert had won statewide baking competitions.

  “She’s just jealous, is all,” Carla affirmed.

  Taking the exit off the highway, they quickly found themselves back on regular neighborhood roads again. “So, why was she replaced?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe Pastor Chimney just felt it was time someone else had an opportunity to serve the church community.”

  Bert nodded in agreement. “That’s true. It is something he would likely do.”

  “But it could also be that she is just getting up there in years.”

  “Carla, we’re getting up there in years,” Bert pointed out, knowing that neither of them was young and spry anymore.

  “Yeah, but not in our eighties. I heard she’s been sick a lot this past year.”

  Bert sighed as they turned down the road where the church was. The neighborhood streets weren’t cleared as well as the main roads. Instantly, Bert could feel her tires dance on the ice. Thankfully, she kept control of the car. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she is sick, but she would never willingly step down from her duties as Christmas choir director.”

  “I know. That might be why Pastor Chimney took the liberty of doing it himself.”

  “Who did he appoint in Gracie’s place?” Bert asked, turning into the church parking lot.

  Carla gave a little shrug. “I haven’t the faintest.”

  “I guess we're about to find out now, anyway,” Bert said, motioning to the large church building before them.

  “All I know is whoever it is that’s been appointed, they better watch out.”

  “Why? Is Santa Claus coming to town?” Bert joked.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Gracie is, and there will be heck to pay.”

  Chapter Three

  “Oh, Bert. How are you?” a voice rang out across the snowy church parking lot, the echo of it bouncing off the icy pavement.

  Bert, who was bent over in her hatchback grabbing the stack of pie boxes, stood up to see her friend Janie waving as she got out of her sporty pink car. Propping the pies on one arm she waved briefly back before balancing her stack again. “Morning, Janie.”

  “Do you need help?” Janie asked, waltzing over to Bert with a practiced grace, even in her high heels that matched the shade of her car. Bert had no idea how the woman managed to walk on the ice in those shoes but silently applauded her for it nonetheless.

  “Sure, if you just want to close the car door for me.”

  “Not a problem,” Janie agreed, shutting it tight.

  “No, no. I’m here,” Carla announced, finally getting out of the passenger seat. She’d been busy putting on a fresh line of lipstick in the car.

  “Oh, Carla. I didn’t see you there,” Janie beamed.

  “You know me. I’m like a ninja,” she joked.

  While it was already nine in the morning, the sky was still a touch dark thanks to the billowy cloud cover that threatened another layer of snow before the day was out. They’d gotten a new storm nearly every week, if not more than that, all through December thus far.

  The result was a pristinely white blanket over the city. It was like Mother Nature’s own decoration for the season. It added an extra dose of holiday cheer to the month of peace, comfort, and joy.

  Even the church was dressed up in its winter best. The parking lot lamp posts had greenery wrapped up the poles with wreaths hung from the top. The outside of the building had strings of white lights along the eaves and windows.

  Bert had to admit, all the cheer had an infectious effect—even against the backdrop of her worries about Harry.

  All throughout the days of December, there were calls of Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas from almost every person you passed on the street. It lifted Bert’s spirits to a whole new level. It was as if, despite the difficulties of the world, everyone from different walks of life was willing to smile, act a little kinder, and share the love of life and the season with their fellow man.

  This was why the holidays were Bert’s favorite time of the year.

  “What are you doing here so early on a Monday?” Bert wondered as the trio of women walked together across the lot toward the front door of the church. Even in her sneakers, Bert found it a little troublesome to keep her balance on the ice.

  “Choir practice,” Janie answered.

  “Choir? Janie, I didn’t know you sang!” Carla enthused, eyes wide with wonderment.

  “Well, I do have a life that exists outside of the space behind the counter at the bank,” Janie joked kindly, lightly gripping Carla’s forearm and giving it a squeeze.

  Bert chuckled. “We never doubted it,” she said. Janie had been a member of the congregation for nearly ten years and had been a loan officer at the Old Market Bank and Loan for even longer. She was known as one of the most well dressed and professional women in the church. She never hesitated to donate money but had never been big at doing the volunteer projects themselves.

  Her agreeing to sing in the choir was a big surprise.

  Bert had always been friendly with Janie, but it was a year and a half or more back that they’d gotten to know each other better. Janie had been critical in getting Bert a loan to open her combination pie and bookshop—something she was extremely grateful for.

  Ever since then, they occasionally got together for a cup of coffee at the local café—but not too often. Janie was an extremely driven and occupied businesswoman. She was always busy with one thing or another, never sharing exactly where she would be or when.

  That was the life when you were young, single, and work driven, Bert supposed.

  “I just never knew you to sing,” Bert noted. “I don’t even think I’ve seen you sing hymns during church.” As for herself, she had never been much of a singer—relegating her vocal time to the shower.

  Janie opened and held the front door for Bert before Carla
could get to it. Carla, in turn, made a tiny jealous scowl. Thankfully, it quickly disappeared. She had a habit of competing for Bert’s friendship sometimes.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anyway, I don’t have any family to really speak of, so I’m trying to get into the Christmas spirit this year by joining the choir,” she beamed as they entered the church’s foyer, decorated in red and gold tinsel and ribbon for the season.