Free Never Say Pie (A Pie Shop Mystery) by Carol Culver Page A

the murderer?”
    Finally someone asking the question I wanted to ask but didn’t have the guts to. I watched to see what Sam’s reaction would be. Instead of instructing them to mind their own business, he just shrugged and said, “Not yet.”
    If I’d asked he probably would have given me the lecture where he glares at me and tells me to stick to baking, but somehow Lindsey escaped that fate. I wished I knew her secret.
    “But you must have some idea. Who are the ‘persons of interest’?” Tammy asked. “And don’t say it’s everyone. You don’t think any of us girls had anything to do with it, do you? Even though we hated his guts.”
    “Shhh.” Lindsey poked her and motioned for her to tone down her rhetoric.
    “It’s not a secret,” Tammy protested. “Everyone must know by now someone bumped off our food critic and good riddance.”
    I’d never been a fan of Tammy’s, not in high school where she was one of the popular girls and I wasn’t and not now either, but at that moment I admired her for having the nerve to speak up. Because I sure didn’t.
    “The investigation is on-going,” Sam said cryptically. Of course he’d say that. He was his usual close-mouthed self.
    “I told you he’d said that,” Tammy said to Lindsey. Then she turned to me. “Hanna, we came to pick up a couple of pies. What’ve you got?”
    “How about a peach and apricot in a cream cheese crust?” I reached for the pie I’d baked in a deep tart tin with the wavy edge and held it up so they could see the browned top. The juices had bubbled over, leaving a crisp fruity crust.
    “Ooooh, it’s so beautiful,” Lindsey said. “I’ll take it.”
    “Take another. I owe you,” I said. I suggested a tart All-American Key Lime Pie with a graham cracker crust made with lime juice, evaporated milk, and egg yolks. Lindsey snapped that up too and they toddled off with their treasures. If they were suspects in the Heath Barr murder, they sure didn’t seem worried about it. I ought to be more like them. Relax. Stick to business. Ignore the murder. Don’t try to help the cops.
    “You act like you like your work,” Sam said when they’d gone back to their booth. I was surprised he was still there. He could have followed Lindsey and Tammy. They definitely wouldn’t have minded at all.
    “I do like it. I’m selling something that makes people happy. They don’t need it, but they want it. They may not be rich, they may not be driving a Mercedes, but almost anyone can afford a pie. I assume someone like Lurline who makes cupcakes or Nina with her caramels feels the same as I do.” I took a breath. Enough about me.
    “What about you, Sam, do you enjoy your work? With you, it’s hard to tell. Would you rather rescue cats from trees and arrest drunk drivers than be challenged by a devious murderer?”
    “What makes you think he’s devious?” Sam asked.
    “Well, he hasn’t been caught,” I said. I waited for him to say he was ready to make an arrest, but he didn’t. “By the way, what makes you think it’s a man?”
    “Touché,” he said with a nod indicating that I just possibly might be thinking straight. “I’m only going on history, which isn’t always reliable. Most violent bloody murders are done by men. Which is not to say a woman couldn’t slit a man’s throat.”
    I shuddered trying not to picture the scene. “I’m really glad I never met the man,” I said. “Aren’t you? I mean aren’t you glad you didn’t meet him when he was alive? Or did you?”
    He shook his head. “I would have preferred that to meeting him when he was dead,” he said somberly.
    “In his office you mean,” I said, then I waited for him to confirm or deny it. I knew I was pushing my luck by trying to find out more, but I could always hope.
    He didn’t comment so I continued along a different line. “I don’t think you ever answered my question. If you don’t want to talk about your work, how about the town? Are you