Chapter 3
“Murder? Not again!” DeeAnn exclaimed. “Good God, what is happening to this community?”
True, the Pie Palace was not in Cumberland Creek, quite, but still, it was close enough.
It was Saturday night so the croppers were all gathered in Sheila’s basement scrapping room for their weekly crop. It was DeeAnn’s favorite day of the week. After a hard day of work, a nice and relaxing dinner with her husband, spending the night with her girlfriends was exactly what she needed.
Annie placed her beer bottle down on the table. “According to the ME, Marina was dead before she was placed in the freezer. She bled to death before she was dragged inside the freezer. Yet there was no blood in the freezer.”
Annie opened a pie box, reached in, and grabbed the pie.
DeeAnn moved the box away. “Why would a killer place a dead body in a freezer? I mean, it’s so blatant. Don’t you think you’d want to hide the body?” She paused. “I’ve always admired that freezer. I’d love to have one as big as that.” DeeAnn owned a thriving bakery in town.
Annie grunted. “Well, the killer certainly wasn’t concerned with hiding the body, were they? That says something, but I’m not sure what.” She held the pie up and took it in. It smelled like a cakey, chocolate-covered cherry—Annie’s idea of culinary heaven. “Pretty,” she said as she admired the craftsmanship.
It was Pamela’s Cherry Chocolate Delight, a cherry pie with chocolate drizzled over the lattice crust and a fine layer of chocolate on the bottom crust.
Sheila, hunched over her laptop, looked up. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that criminals are not the brightest.”
“What are you doing?” Vera asked, setting down her scrapbook and reaching for a paper plate as Annie sliced the pie and began doling it out.
“I’m working on a Halloween-themed scrap journal,” Sheila responded. “It’s for work. I’ve got a deadline next week.”
DeeAnn surveyed her friends around the table. Sheila was a designer with a huge craft company in New York City. She journeyed between the city and Cumberland Creek so often it was becoming commonplace, but DeeAnn knew her well enough to see it was wearing on her. She always looked tired. And she wasn’t her cheerful self anymore. Annie had said Sheila was still getting over the incident that had happened on the cruise ship last Christmas. One thing was for sure, Sheila was changing.
“Did you try those pumpkin-ginger cookies?” DeeAnn asked her. “I think you’d like them.” In her experience, cookies made everything better—at least for the time being. For that matter, so did pie.
Sheila reached for a cookie over her computer. “I’ll take a slice of pie, too. I don’t really care for cherry, but the chocolate adds something to it.”
“Those cookies are good,” Vera said, holding up a page. She was working on a scrapbook about Eric, the man with whom she lived. She had gathered all of his old photos and sorted through them, then decided it was time to make a scrapbook for him. “Eric’s mom wasn’t into scrapbooking,” she explained, noting DeeAnn looking at her page.
“What a cute photo,” DeeAnn said. “Eric was adorable.” It was a photo of him dressed as a cowboy for Halloween, placed on a cowboy-themed page, complete with a horse and a rope that outlined the page.
Vera beamed. It was so clear how much she loved the man, yet she would not marry him.
Maybe it was smart, mused DeeAnn, given how her last marriage had turned out. The scrapbook of that wedding had been destroyed—Vera had torn up the pages and thrown them in the Cumberland Creek. DeeAnn smiled to herself, even as a wave of weariness overtook her. She sighed.
“Busy day?” Vera asked.
“Since the Pie Palace was closed, everybody and their brother came to my place,” DeeAnn said. “We were packed all day.”
“I saw that,” Sheila said. “I was out running errands and saw the line. I wonder if you might consider expanding soon.”
Paige had mentioned the same thing to her last week. DeeAnn glanced over at Paige and Randy’s empty chairs. After the day’s events, they had decided a quiet night at home was in order. It certainly was emptier in Sheila’s basement scrapbooking room without them. Paige was DeeAnn’s dearest friend and she loved Randy as if he were her own.
“I’m considering some changes,” DeeAnn said. What she didn’t tell them was one of those changes she was considering was retirement. She’d gotten into the business because she loved to bake, but it was an extremely physical job. She was more tired than she should be and her bones ached. Her back was a constant problem. Even with all her good help, it was a bit too much.
“Change is a good thing. Take it from me,” Vera said, grinning.
“Things are working out well with Eric, then,” Annie said, as she placed a rub-on embellishment on her page and started to rub it with a craft stick. She pulled the plastic backing off gently, leaving a pumpkin on the page.
Vera nodded and smiled.
“You know, I love these rub-ons. So much fun and they look so delicate on the paper.” Annie was working on a Halloween card. She’d taken an online class on how to make cards and was zooming along with it.
“Are those David’s Designs?” Sheila asked, cutting a piece of her slice of pie with her fork. “We have a gorgeous line of them.”
“Hmm. I don’t think so.” Annie turned the paper over. “No, not David’s.”
“I’ll see if I can pick up some next time I’m in the city,” Sheila said, bringing a bit of pie to her mouth.
“Oh, that would be great,” Annie replied. “Voilà, this is done. I now have a lovely homemade card for my brother.” She held it up—a soft-tan card with pumpkin rub-ons. The center to the card had a torn darker brown strip. The words “Happy Halloween” were stamped on the bottom of the folded cardstock.
“Does he like Halloween?” Sheila said.
Annie nodded. “I’d say. If he could get away with it, he’d still go trick or treating.”
“So, are you going to cover the weirdness at the Pie Palace?” DeeAnn asked Annie.
She nodded. “I filed my first story in the series. I’m hoping this will also be my last story. I’ll see this one through, but I’m earning enough from my books now so I don’t have to freelance. We’re waiting for my next royalty check to be sure.” She sat back in her chair. “You know, it feels good to finally be done with reporting. It’s been a long, painful good-bye, but I’m really done. Or I will be, after this.”
DeeAnn wasn’t so certain. Annie seemed so driven. Could she really give up journalism and be happy?
“What will you do with yourself, Annie?” Vera asked.
Annie laughed. “You might be surprised. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You are an evil woman,” DeeAnn said. “Teasing us like that.”
Annie just smiled and fingered through her stack of cardstock. “You know, I almost forgot about the scrapbook page.”
“What?” DeeAnn said.
“Marina was holding a scrapbook page when they found her,” Annie said.
The room silenced.
“Disturbing,” DeeAnn finally said.