Killer Apple Pie Page 5

  “Clearly not, since I seem to be inundated with people who can’t stay on the other side of a simple police barrier.” She narrowed her eyes at Rebecca Stallion.

  The woman’s jaw dropped wide open. “Well, I never. How dare you accuse me of such frivolous behavior.”

  “You walked past the barrier without a second thought, didn’t you?” Bert barked, her voice growing louder and louder as she pointed at the very clearly marked plastic signs out front.

  “Please, please,” Kyle shouted at the top of his lungs, forcing the two women into silence.

  They both quieted down, Bert looking embarrassed for her outburst and Rebecca looking infuriated and insulted.

  “Now, Mrs. Stallion, I tried to warn you not to step past this barrier, and you have. Now you’ve not only offended this detective, but you’ve also upset Mrs. Hannah, my new tenant.”

  Mrs. Stallion was flabbergasted, her mouth still hanging open as if she were trying to catch flies.

  “If anyone is at fault in this little misunderstanding, it’s you,” he accused her.

  Rebecca clamped her mouth tightly shut, her lips squeezing together in a grimace. “My shop has been here longer than you’ve been alive. I have some right to the decisions that go on at this market.”

  “Not in the slightest, you don’t,” he shot back at her, staring her down.

  “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.” Stomping off, she disappeared back out of the shop and past the police barrier.

  “Detective, Bert, I’m truly sorry about this.”

  “Now, wait a minute, young man,” Detective Mannor called. It was a little odd hearing him call Kyle a young man, but Bert supposed, compared to both of them, he was young. After all, he couldn’t be older than thirty-five.

  “Yes?”

  “What is your name?”

  “My name is Kyle Jankes. I’m the landlord for most of Old Market.”

  “The landlord? You seem a bit young.”

  “I inherited the business from my father and my grandfather, you understand.”

  “I see. Well, as the landlord, aren’t you the least bit interested why there is a police investigation happening on your property?”

  He gave a polite nod. “Indeed, I am, Detective, but I assumed that you or one of your men would contact me when it was appropriate and if it was necessary to talk with me.”

  “Do you have a key to this building?” was the next question past the detective’s lips.

  “Well, of course I do. I have one for all the buildings I own.”

  Mannor nodded with a firm determination. “Then, yes, we will need to talk to you. Do you have a moment now?”

  “May I ask exactly what it is I’m being interviewed about?” he pressed.

  “Murder, Mr. Jankes.”

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  Bert got quite a bit of work completed while Kyle was in the stock room of the bookstore being questioned. She’d managed to clear out the entire front entrance area of the left side of the shop, creating a clean look that she liked. Things would be wonderful once the pie shop was completely in place and the bookstore reorganized.

  Kyle finally came out of the stockroom with the detective not far behind. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jankes. I will be in contact.”

  “Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” he offered.

  Without answering, the detective headed back toward the office again.

  Kyle came to stand next to Bert and sighed. “He suspects one of us, you know?”

  “I’m aware of that fact,” she grumbled, shoving more books into boxes. “We’re the only two besides Brinkley who have keys to the building, and when I found the body this morning the whole place was locked up tight. That leaves you and me as the likely suspects.”

  “I suppose so, but what reason would either of us have for killing the old man?” he asked in a sincere tone.

  Bert refrained from mentioning the nine thousand dollars of rent owed. In the end, it hardly seemed like motive enough, since Brinkley had just earned money from selling the business. Killing the man would just mean he was out the money for good.

  “Well, I don’t have a motive,” Bert noted.

  “I think that detective is trying to dig one up.”

  “If he’s such a good detective, why not have an officer posted out front so I won’t have to field all the psychos who decide to disobey the large signs that say do not cross on them.”

  “I heard a rumor that our city’s force was low staffed,” Kyle offered.

  “I guess, but that hardly seems like an excuse.”

  “I mean, we may not be a small town, but we’re certainly not the size of some of the bigger cities. We exist mostly for tourists driving through.”

  “I understand that, I do. I just don’t think it’s fair that I get blamed for other people’s poor choices. I swear, that detective has it out for me.”

  “Hey, give him a break. He might be a grump, but I’ve heard of him. He’s solved quite a few murder cases in his time.”

  “He has? Well, maybe he should quit when he’s ahead and retire. He may be slipping in his old age.”

  “The police don’t always have someone on watch in situations like this, even in the bigger cities. Believe me, I’ve traveled enough to see. Usually, having the barricades up is enough for most people.”

  “Well, it wasn’t enough for Rebecca Stallion.”

  Kyle frowned, folding his arms. “She was upset that I was allowing another food business, specifically sweets and desserts, into the Old Market.”

  Bert cocked a confused eyebrow. “Why would that matter?”

  “She’s one of the longest running shop owners in the market and thinks she has some sort of entitlement to all of the choices made. Believe me, I’ve been dealing with her craziness since I took over for my Pops.”

  Bert pushed the box she had just filled with books to the side and stood up. “It looked like she was ready to attack me earlier.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her. She dragged me over to make an official complaint about your pie shop.”

  “How did she ever hear about it?”

  “Carla Young was excitedly telling other shop owners.”

  “Of course,” Bert said with a laugh.

  “Anyway, she thinks the competition will hurt her business.”

  “I don’t see how. We sell completely different foods. Heck, I get an ice cream from her almost every week.”

  “I agree, it isn’t a problem, but at least now I can tell her I’ve discussed it with you. It’ll get her off my back for a while, anyway. My assumption is, as soon as you have your grand opening, she’ll be back at it again.”

  Bert smiled at him. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “No problem,” he beamed.

  “You know, you seem an awful lot nicer than people let on. I mean, you’re a businessman when you need to be, but you also seem very good natured when dealing with people.”

  He sat in a red armchair, smirking with only half his mouth. “I will admit, Mrs. Hannah, I have a temper.”

  “Call me Bert.”

  “It costs a lot of money to run this whole operation. I can get pretty snippy when I feel it’s needed. As I did with Brinkley the other night for his overdue bills.”

  The mention of money reminded Bert of something that had happened the day before, and she wondered if Kyle knew anything about it. “You know, there was another man in here recently who was trying to pump Brinkley for money. He seemed pretty angry, had a slight New York accent.”

  Kyle scowled. “That’ll be Marc Bailey, most likely. He works in investments and is always trying to get the shop owners around here to participate in some project or other. Truth be told, he isn’t that great with money and is often taking advantage of some of the more timid people on his roster.”

  Bert hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t think he had anything to do with this?”

  “I couldn�
�t honestly say. I don’t really interact with the man.”

  Bert only nodded, thinking about the other possibilities. She just had to figure out a way to clear her name off the suspect list. “Is there another way into this building? Any way at all where you wouldn’t need a key?”

  “There is a back door, but I assume it’s locked.”

  “Wait a minute.” Bert had a sudden idea and walked over to the newly uncovered left side door. She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Darn. I thought maybe this one had been accidentally left open all this time.”

  “It was a good thought.”

  “What about upstairs?” she pointed upward.

  “It’s technically apartment space, but most shop owners use it as storage. The only door in or out is at the top of the stairs.”

  “What about the windows? Is there a fire escape on the back of this building?”

  “There is, but it’s nearly impossible to get up to it from the alley. Someone has to unlatch the ladder from the top to get it to extend down.”

  “Darn.”

  “I mean, you can check it all out, but I’m not sure you’re going to find much of anything. I suggest letting the police handle it,” he stood up, straightening his suit jacket.

  “What, so Mr. Gung-Ho Detective can arrest one of us?”

  “He is the best in the city. Don’t forget that,” he pointed out, walking past her to leave.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  By two in the afternoon, Bert’s energy was all but spent. Between the shocking experience of finding a dead body, dealing with a pompous and overbearing detective, taking on Pearl and Rebecca, and finally shuffling box after box of books around, Bert had worn out any steam left in her as well as the boost from her extra cups of coffee that morning. She needed a serious break and heading back to the cottage for a long candlelit soak in the bath, followed by an evening with some of her favorite British television shows sounded like just the ticket.

  Most nights, she liked to read a little before bed, and Victorian literature was her personal favorite. This time, however, she didn’t feel like she could look another book in the spine until morning, no matter if it was Stevenson, Poe, or her good friend Dickens.

  The drive home was about twenty minutes and it only added to her exhaustion, so much so that she barely felt able to draw her own bath. Somehow, she managed to get the tub filling and a few of her favorite cinnamon and vanilla scented pillar candles, purchased from Christmas in July, lit. They filled the bathroom with a warm ambient glow. Adding some music from the radio app on her phone, the classical station, she slipped out of her jeans and blouse and crawled into the steaming hot water, grimacing against the pain at first but then settling in comfortably.

  She knew she should be thinking of something for dinner, but was in no mood for cooking. She figured she’d order something out from the local Italian shop down the road. She didn’t often eat out or buy pre-made food, but days like this one called for it.

  As she settled back in the water, she closed her eyes and thought of the many ways she could improve upon her new business venture. She already had visions for how it might be decorated.

  She loved the dark red of the brick walls and was hoping to build off that theme. She thought of a color scheme involving of deep maroons, earthy browns, rich blacks, and creamy tans or golds. She figured on cherry wood wall paneling with a nice gold trim. Even the glass displays and shelves would be done with wood frames or black metal. She would add hanging light fixtures with soft filter glass shades. Using the armchairs and cushions that Brinkley had left behind she could, create an entire sitting area with tables.

  The whole thing, in her mind at least, seemed very Victorian.

  It would take a serious investment of money upfront, but if she played her cards right she’d have it all paid off in no time.

  Her mind began to wander as she thought of Brinkley again. If that detective got it in his head to try and pursue Bert as the main suspect she could be in trouble. What if he somehow came up with some reason to arrest her? Her happy vision of a pie shop mixed with a bookshop would be drowned before it even started.

  She didn’t like the sound of it, didn’t like it at all.

  The stress of the day started to creep back as she considered the options. Surely there was some logical explanation of how someone other than herself or Kyle Jankes got inside the building.

  On the other hand, she considered, what was to stop Kyle from being the murderer? After all, there was money owed between the men. What if he’d gone back to the store that same night and asked for his nine thousand right up front, no delays?

  What if Brinkley had ultimately refused?

  The landlord could have lost his temper, picked up the letter opener, and stabbed him.

  Afterward, he might have hidden the bloodied weapon somewhere in the store, somewhere he knew the police wouldn’t find it. After all, the building had been in his family for three generations. He probably knew all the intricacies and ins and outs of the place. Maybe there was a secret hiding place?

  Bert opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. What if it had been that Marc person instead? Perhaps the man arrived late that night after both Kyle and Bert had left. He goes inside and demands his money. When Brinkley refuses to pay, Marc does the same thing as in the other scenario, picks up the nearest sharp object—the letter opener—and stabs the poor old man.

  Then what? Bert asked herself.

  Maybe he took the key and locked up behind himself.

  Bert shook her head. That didn’t make any sense at all. How would he lock up and then get the key back onto the desk?

  It just didn’t work.

  She thought briefly about Pearl, the incessant customer who wanted the copy of Macbeth for herself. Had she resorted to murder to get the expensive book? It didn’t make sense. If it had been the old woman, she would have just taken the book along with her, right? Besides, Pearl was too old and weak to stab someone.

  And there was still the trouble with the key.

  Bert was at a loss.

  Sitting up in the bath, she reached out and grabbed a towel. She was getting hungry and craving pizza. A good Edwardian TV drama and a slice of Hawaiian style might not be a bad combination.

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  The next morning, Bert felt like she’d gotten some of her spunk back, as well as some of her excitement about her new business. She decided she’d go back and work a little more on moving books that morning and then start doing research and making phone calls to contractors she could trust to do the remodel. It was going to be a lengthy and involved process, but she wanted to get everything moving as quickly as possible.

  If she was efficient in her decisions, she could have the shop open by early October—just in time for the start of the holiday season. That gave her just under two months to get things in order. It was a perfect plan.

  Taking some time to cook a proper breakfast, including three strips of turkey bacon, two farmer’s market duck eggs, and a whole pile of hash browns, she chowed down. She would need to keep her energy up if she wanted to get her entire list of items done. To top off the morning meal, she had two mugs of steaming hot coffee.

  Once she finished eating, and reading the comics from both that day and the previous one, she headed out the door to make the twenty-minute commute to the Old Market. There weren’t many large main highways running through Culver’s Hood, so driving from one end to the other took a little longer—with slow speed limits through neighborhoods and past schools as well as stop lights.

  She arrived in the Old Market around nine-thirty, and pulled up next to a police car parked on the street in front of her shop. “Oh, goodness,” she groaned upon seeing Detective Mannor standing in the doorway with his arms folded and his best scowl on.

  Hopping out of her car, she approached him. “Can I help you with anything?”
she asked in a less than polite voice.

  “No, not necessarily.”

  “Don’t tell me you still want to keep everything all cordoned off all day. I’ve got a business to get up and running.”

  He held up a hand for silence. “We’ve got most everything cleared up, Mrs. Hannah. The shop is back in your control for the time being.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Also, I wanted to stop by and make sure you were doing all right after everything you had to deal with yesterday.”

  This comment made Bert pause and raise a confused eyebrow. “Is this the same Detective from yesterday?” she asked in all seriousness.

  “Mrs. Hannah, when I get on a case I tend to lose myself in a certain frame of mind. I apologize if any of my behavior came off as rude or imposing.”

  She pursed her lips. “Thanks for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “About the whole issue with the guard.”

  She froze in place, her key poised at the lock.

  “At the moment, our force here in Culver’s Hood is a little short staffed at times. The chief is actually looking for new officers right now.”

  “Good for him,” she replied in a low voice. She wanted to get on with her day and forget about police procedure and murders for a while.

  “Seeing as this wasn’t a high-profile murder case, I felt confident in leaving up the police barricade as a method to steer off any unwanted guests. We’ve used this same method successfully on other occasions. Most people won’t dare step inside a barrier when there are police still on the premises. They know better.”

  “Well, not this time,” she pointed out, sliding the key into the lock and turning it.

  “It seems you had a few insistent customers, yes.”

  Bert bit her lower lip to keep from saying something she might regret.

  “My point is, I apologize for my poor attitude yesterday. Murder is a serious business and I intend to catch the culprit.”