Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) (2 page)

My stomach clenched as I grew nauseated. The smell of peaches and spice assaulted my nose along with the coppery scent of blood (though that might have been my imagination). I took two quick steps back, holding my stomach, hoping I wouldn’t vomit. A few more steps and I ran into the railing that overlooked the main floor. Turning, I saw the mayor and a woman passing below me. “Mayor, help! Call 911.” My voice failed me, and he looked up at me, confused. “It’s Eric Hogan,” I said.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he hurt?” He started up the stairs toward me, fast.

“He’s dead.” I slid down the railing to sit on the floor and pulled my legs to my chest, dropping my head between my knees, hoping I wouldn’t pass out. What was it with me finding dead bodies?

Filling:

4 cups fresh peaches

1 cup fresh blackberries

½ cup sugar

3 Tbsp cornstarch

1 pinch salt

1 tsp cinnamon

Tart crust.

2 cups flour

1 tsp salt

3/4 cup shortening

1 large egg, beaten

2 Tbsn white vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Crust: Mix the flour and salt. Using a pastry blender, cut the shortening into the flour until it is uniform. Mix the egg and vinegar in a cup and blend into the flour mixture. Pie crust tip: once you add the liquids, you want to handle the crust as little as possible, but before adding the liquids, you can mix it as much as you like.

Line the bottom of the pie pan with crust and prick the sides and bottom with a fork. Then spread in the peaches and berries.  Sprinkle the other ingredients evenly across the top. Top with a second crust and crimp the edges and bake for about an hour, or until crust starts to turn golden.

This is based on the recipe my grandma always used from her Encyclopedia of Cooking, though I really like the extra punch the berries give the pie. My friend Honey prefers it au-natural, though, with just the peaches. If it’s off-season and you just have to have your peach-pie fix, frozen peaches and blackberries can be substituted for the fresh ones, just put them in the shell still frozen. If you defrost them before you bake they can turn mushy.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.”

I’d know the voice anywhere—it belonged to paramedic Jack King, the man who always seemed to be there when I felt or looked like crap. I peered up at him now and hoped I wasn’t as pale as I felt. “You’re telling me. Did you get a look at him?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing we can do for him. How about you? Need an IV?” His blue eye twinkled at me and I glared. He knew how much I hated needles.

I hit his leg with my closed fist, though I didn’t put as much energy behind it as I could have. “Sure, just as much as you want an appendectomy.”

“Too late, I already had one, but yeah, surgery’s not really high on my to-do list right now.” He crouched beside me. “Are you going to be all right? You’re kind of gray around the edges.” He brushed at a couple of hairs that had escaped my hair clips.

“I’m feeling better. Help me stand and we’ll see how much better.” I slid my hand into his and tried to ignore the way it wrapped around mine so nicely, or the gentle way he helped me to my feet. Instead I reminded myself that he’d put a needle in my arm that spring. I still wasn’t ready to forgive him, even though I’d needed the IV and had sort of given permission.

“How’s that?” Jack asked when he got me to my feet. He put a hand on my back, steadying me for a moment as a bout of lightheadedness hit me.

When it passed, I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s find you a chair. Tingey will want to talk to you before you leave, anyway.” He nodded toward the detective, who was speaking with a man outside the kitchen door.

“Of course he will. And then he’ll ask me again, and he’ll have me write it down, and if I’m really lucky, I’ll get a ride to the station to give a formal report too!” I pasted on a manic grin as if it sounded like barrels of fun. Having experienced it before, though, I knew better.

My cell phone rang and I fished it out of my pocket as we headed down the stairs to a chair by the empty cake table. Someone had hauled off the board while I’d been upstairs trying not to be sick.

I glared at my phone when my shop’s number came up. “Hey, Angela. How’s it going?”

“Um, fine?” my nineteen-year-old employee said.

I could feel a headache coming on, and she hadn’t even said what was wrong, yet. “Yeah? You called to tell me everything was fine?”

“Well, see, I was helping Mrs. Hooper with the anniversary cake you made for her, and I sort of dropped it on the floor. It doesn’t look very good there.”

My mouth formed words I would not allow myself to speak aloud to an employee. Jack seemed to get the gist of it as he slid an arm around my back before I could give in to the desire to pass out for real this time. It had to be easier than dealing with such incompetence.

“Um, Tess, are you still there?” Angela asked when I didn’t speak for a long moment.

“Yes. Is Mrs. Hooper still in the store? Could I speak with her, please?” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice even.

A moment later the woman came on the line, her voice hitching with tears. “I promised my Albert we’d have something special for the family party tonight. I can’t believe it. It happened right in front of me. What are you going to do about it? It’s all over the floor.”

Dang. That meant I couldn’t just fix the exterior as I would if the damage hadn’t been serious. I looked at my watch. It was three-thirty. “Look, I have a round cake in my fridge that I was going to decorate tonight. How about if I come in and decorate it for you? I know it’s the wrong shape, but it’s the same flavor and I can do it up along the same design as the other one and deliver it to your house before six tonight. Will that work?”

The woman sniffled. “Yes. But I should get a discount if it’s going to be round.”

I ground my teeth together. “Of course. How does fifteen percent sound?”

“Well, I guess you
are
delivering it.” She seemed to debate for a moment. “That will be fine.”

“Terrific. Make sure you give Angela your address and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Detective Tingey was not going to be happy about me ducking out, but I figured he knew where to find me. I hung up the phone and slid it back into my pocket.

“That didn’t sound good,” Jack said.

“You have no idea. The good news is I’m so furious that I’m not feeling light headed anymore.” I pulled one of my business cards from the pocket of my apron and grabbed my pen. On the back of the card I jotted. “Sorry, business emergency. I can meet you after six, or you can swing by the shop.” I put my cell number below it and signed my initials. I handed it to Jack. “Could you give this to Detective Tingey? I know I owe you for taking the glare he’s going to shoot at you when he reads my card. Bring your daughter in when you get a day off and I’ll get you both cupcakes on the house.”

“I won’t argue with that. You’re sure you feel okay, though?” He looked concerned and studied my face.

“Fine.” I gave him a fake smile, and hurried out to my SUV. I thought I heard Detective Tingey’s voice calling my name before the door closed behind me, but I didn’t stop to find out.

Detective Tingey, a tired-looking blond in his early forties, came knocking at the locked door to my shop at eight that night. I was rebaking the cake I’d had to give to Mrs. Hooper—I had to have it for a wedding the next day and now that I’d pushed my schedule back several hours, I needed every minute I could eek out to get the cake done.

Angela had left the store crying after turning in her Sweet Bites Bakery name tag. Good riddance, I say, and she quit, saving me from having to decide what to do with her, though it would leave me short-handed while I set up the cake the next afternoon. She was my third employee in a little over three months. I swear I’m not that hard to work for, but finding someone reliable had been a challenge.

I held up one finger, indicating for the detective to wait while I finished smoothing the fondant over the cake on my table. I cut off the excess and wrapped it away. The cake top still needed attention, but I could take a break now that it was all covered. I pulled off my gloves and moved to the door to let him in.

“You could be in serious trouble for leaving like that,” he said as soon as the door opened.

I wouldn’t blow him off, but neither was I going to let his bluster intimidate me. “Sorry, I had an emergency. You must have had your hands full with things at the scene if you’re just showing up,” I glanced at the clock, “almost five hours later.” I led him to the counter—he looked tired and hungry. “Would you like something to eat? You look exhausted.” I hadn’t been able to eat since finding Eric’s body, and still didn’t feel hungry.

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Nope, you can haul me off after I finish this cake, but you need to eat, and I’d have to give it away anyway. I have some cinnamon rolls.” I knew he had a weak spot for them, as he stopped in for some a couple times a week.

“You are an evil woman.”

I smiled. “And cappuccino? Or would you rather a straight shot of espresso considering the night you probably still have ahead of you?” He seemed confused by my hostessing, which made me want to laugh, but I kept it in.

“I ... give me a double in that cappuccino.”

“Coming up.” While I was at it, I’d make a latte for myself—I’d already had a fourteen-hour day and wouldn’t be finished for at least two more. Thank goodness my commute time was only the fifteen seconds it took for me to get from my upstairs apartment to the shop’s kitchen door every morning.

Detective Tingey took out his voice recorder, his pen, notebook and a few sheets of paper for me to write down the entire incident after he’d badgered every detail out of me. I was starting to find the drill very familiar. I joined him at the bistro table—not exactly sized for everything we crammed onto it—with the cinnamon rolls and drinks.

He only hesitated for a moment before indulging in a big bite of the closest pastry. “Okay,” he said once he swallowed it and had taken a big glug of his cappuccino. “So you left my scene because you had a
baking
emergency? And you bribed Jack to help you sneak out?”

I considered the exact situation with Jack and corrected him. “Actually I bribed him to give you the note so I wouldn’t have to hear you tell me I couldn’t leave yet. But I guess the sneaking out part was sort of wrapped into the deal, if you want to be technical. Is that recorder on?”

“Not yet. And you had a
baking
emergency?” His voice dripped with derision.

“Yes, my employee dropped someone’s anniversary cake and they needed it tonight. I had to come back and do a new one. And now I’m trying to catch up on the time I spent fixing her butter-finger problem.”

“Were you hard on the girl?”

“Not nearly as hard as she was on herself. She quit to save me the trouble of firing her.”