Plum Deadly (14 page)

“Who are the owners? Is each shop owned by someone different?”

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Excuse me, Mark. I have to check on everyone else. Thanks for stopping by.”

Maggie was still too rushed after that to even think about Mark’s question. When Pie in the Sky finally quieted down, around twelve thirty, Ryan came in with lunch for her and Aunt Clara.

“I thought you might be tired of looking at pie. I stopped by around nine on my way to the paper and took a few pictures. You were swamped.”

“I guess we were,” Maggie said. “I didn’t even see you.”

“Albert Mann was here.” Ryan gave her a container of Chinese noodles. “I’ll bet he was disappointed. He could’ve come in and gotten this place for a song if none of the customers came back.”

“That man was here?” Aunt Clara demanded. “I wish I’d known. I would’ve given him a piece of my mind.”

Maggie handed her the first box of noodles Ryan had given her and kept the next one for herself. “He was only here for a minute. Probably scoping out the place, like Ryan said. I don’t think he was very happy to see us so busy.”

While they ate, Ryan told them he’d checked in with an old friend who worked at the medical examiner’s office. “He said we weren’t dealing with regular arsenic in Lou’s death.”

Maggie glanced at her noodles, not sure she wanted to talk about this while they were eating. It didn’t seem to
bother Aunt Clara or Ryan, so she ignored her squeamishness. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the average person who wants to kill someone with arsenic would just turn to their handy bag of rat poison. That would do the trick.”

“What a terrible way to rid oneself of pests,” Aunt Clara said.

Maggie put down her chopsticks. “What kind of arsenic is it?”

“It’s synthetic arsenic.” Ryan’s enthusiasm for his subject was apparent. “Arsenic pentoxide. Not rare. They use it for various manufacturing purposes. It’s a lot stronger than the kind in rat poison.”

“That sounds great,” Maggie said, lacking his enthusiasm. “Will that make it harder to figure out where it came from?”

“No. That’s the good part. It should be easier. My friend said he hasn’t heard anything about the police locating the arsenic. He said several investigators are looking into it. It’s going to take some time to research. That’s partly why they don’t have anything yet. It’s not something everyone could get their hands on.”

“Have either of you considered that Mr. Goldberg’s death might not have anything to do with what happened to Maggie?” Aunt Clara slurped her last noodle and looked up at them.

W
hat do you
mean?” Maggie asked.

“I mean just what you and Ryan were saying before. What if Albert Mann did this to close the pie shop so he could buy it for less money?”

Ryan nodded. “That could be a possibility.”

“It seems a little coincidental,” Maggie added. “Just as Lou is about to spill the beans on someone higher up at the bank, he’s murdered.”

“Sometimes things seem coincidental but they aren’t at all,” Aunt Clara quipped. “And one could say someone dying
after eating my pie would be coincidental. Something like this could have ruined my name and reputation. I would have no choice but to sell to that brute.”

“She makes a good point.” Ryan shrugged. “Are you going to eat the rest of your noodles, Maggie?”

“No.” She slid the box toward him. “Sorry. My stomach isn’t as strong as yours and Aunt Clara’s, I guess.”

“Thanks.” He took the box of noodles from her. “I suppose it could go either way. The question for either scenario would be how do we figure out who’s to blame?”

“There has to be a middle person in either option,” Maggie said. “Albert Mann probably didn’t even know Lou. He would have paid someone to pick a person at random.”

Ryan agreed. “On the other hand, if Lou was killed by someone who wanted to stop him from having his press conference, like Stan Isleb, there would still have to be another person to do the dirty work. Like Mann, it sounds like Isleb wouldn’t have been anywhere around when it happened.”

“I hope it wasn’t a regular,” Aunt Clara added. “I’d hate to think someone we see every day could do such a thing.”

“We’ll have to look in both directions,” Ryan said. “And I have something to help you do that.”

He brought out an older laptop in a black case and gave it to her. “I’m not using this one right now. You may as well have it. It may not be as fast as you’re used to, but it still works.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him and touched the bag. “I appreciate it.”

They decided that Maggie would try to look up what she could about Stan Isleb.

“He might have gambling debts or some other reason for needing that money,” Ryan said. “We need to know everything we can about him, especially if he has an alibi for when Lou was killed. That could get Frank’s attention right away.”

Aunt Clara was going to make a list of all the people who normally visited the pie shop that could be involved with Mann Development.

“I don’t want to say anything bad about Angela,” Maggie said, “but she’s always talking to me about getting Aunt Clara to sell the shop. She’s in real estate. Maybe Mann hired her to hang around and see what’s going on.”

“Angela?” Aunt Clara’s green eyes widened. “She’s been coming here for years, by herself, and with the book club. I can’t believe she’d have anything to do with it.”

“Was she here the day Lou died?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Maybe we should check her out.”

Ryan looked up Angela Hightower on his cell phone. “She owns her own real estate business, Hightower Real Estate. Nice logo.” He showed Maggie and her aunt.

“I guess that’s as good a place to start as any,” Maggie said.

Ryan glanced at his watch. “That’s about all the help I can be right now. I’m sorry. I have to get the paper ready to go to press. Once I get that done, we’ll see what else we can figure out.”

Maggie thanked him for lunch. She wanted to kiss him goodbye but wasn’t sure if they were at that point yet.

“I’m going back in the kitchen so you two can share a proper kiss before Ryan goes to work.” Aunt Clara giggled
as she turned her back on them. “Don’t mind me. I would never stand in the way of romance.”

Ryan smiled as she disappeared into the kitchen. “I like your aunt a lot.”

“That’s because what she’s saying isn’t embarrassing you.”

“Let’s put it this way—I’d trade her for my father any day.” He put his arms around her. “And what’s to be embarrassed about anyway? I like you. You like me. We’re two consenting adults. We can legally kiss each other goodbye. Or hello, if the mood strikes us.”

Maggie smiled and kissed him. “I guess you’re right. It’s been a while for me. In the city, I was too busy, and since I got home, I’ve been too depressed.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” He kissed her again. “Talk to you later. Call me if you think of anything else.”

Maggie thanked him again for the use of the laptop and promised to call him. He waved when he got to his car. She sighed. It might be a bad time in her life right now, but Ryan was certainly a bright spot.

She tidied up the pie shop when he was gone. She’d had no opportunity to wipe down any of the tables during the long morning rush. Everything was a mess. There were thousands of fingerprints on the glass pie cases and coffee stains everywhere. She mopped the floor and made fresh tea in case there was an afternoon rush too.

Still, it was a good thing. Maybe the next few days might be slow after so many people came in on the same day. She wouldn’t complain either way. It was nice to see so many
people who wanted to express their well-wishes. Aunt Clara was right. It was good to have loyal friends.

“Maggie?” Aunt Clara called from the kitchen. “I think the refrigerator might be on the fritz. It’s not keeping anything cold.”

Maggie walked into the back. She was pretty sure this was the same refrigerator Aunt Clara had put in when she’d worked here in college. The poor old thing just couldn’t handle it anymore. Definitely not a good time with Lotsa Lemon Meringue pies that needed to stay cold.

There was a knock at the back door. It was Mr. Gino, their supplier. He was a short Italian man, very muscular. He had a large black mustache that covered his mouth. He was always in a good mood, singing or smiling the whole time he made his deliveries.

“I brought what I could for you, Mrs. Clara,” he said. “There are a few things I was out of on the truck. I’ll get those to you tomorrow.”

“I don’t have anyplace to put them if they need refrigeration,” Aunt Clara told him. “I’m sorry to waste your time. Our refrigerator just died.”

“No problems. My son runs an appliance store. He’ll get you a good deal on a new one and have it here this afternoon. Not to worry.”

Aunt Clara agreed to Mr. Gino’s proposal. Maggie pulled her to the side. “Can we afford it?”

“We can’t have lemon meringue pie without it,” her aunt reminded her. “Or chocolate cream pie, or whipped cream.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gino.” Aunt Clara turned back to him. “We’ll take it.”

“Good! Good! I’ll give him a call. I have another delivery to make. I’ll be back after the refrigerator is here to make sure it gets installed properly.” He smiled, more a movement of his face than anything. Maggie couldn’t see his lips under the heavy mustache.

“It’s good to have you back and making the pies. You are my favorite customer.” Mr. Gino hugged Maggie and Aunt Clara before he left, whistling an old Dean Martin tune:
When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.

Maggie had a sinking feeling that Aunt Clara’s bank account was dwindling away. At least the pie shop was open again. It would bring in money instead of everything going the other way.

The two women moved the pies that were already made and the whipped cream into the refrigerated pie case in the front of the shop. It was a tight fit, and wasn’t as decorative as usual, but it worked. Now they just had to get the refrigerator installed before they needed to make more pie or fresh iced tea.

To keep her mind occupied during the slow time in the afternoon, Maggie looked up Stan Isleb on the Internet.

She couldn’t imagine him poisoning someone, but on the other hand, she couldn’t imagine
anyone
poisoning anyone.

Yet if Stan was the one who had stolen the money and had Lou blame it on her, it made sense. Because they were related, she could understand why Lou would do as he was told. He’d be afraid for his job, for one thing, yet not want to expose his brother-in-law and cause hardship to his sister.

Anything was possible. She’d certainly heard and seen it all when she worked for the bank. It didn’t matter how much money a person made either. They could lose everything due to all kinds of circumstances.

Of course, there was nothing on the Internet that was so blatant. Stan had been awarded many honors by the bank in his years there. He’d risen from an entry-level position to be a powerful man.

He wasn’t Lou’s direct supervisor. They worked in different areas of the banking business. Stan was involved in bond trading.

Stan also gave to charities, helped orphans and firefighters. He seemed to be a model citizen. There were hundreds of smiling pictures of him in various locations around the country as he cut ribbons, ran races for breast cancer awareness, and held orphaned children in his lap.

Maggie sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

While she was online, she looked up Angela Hightower too. Angela seemed to be doing very well. She was Real Estate Marketer of the Year last year in Durham. Her sales figures were impressive. She was on several boards around the city and was involved in various charities. She seemed to be a model citizen too.

Maybe she was looking in the wrong direction and needed to focus further
down
the food chain.

A few regular afternoon customers straggled in. One of them was the surly college student who’d been there the day Lou was killed.

Maybe he was involved in what had happened to Lou, she theorized. He didn’t appear to be a model citizen and he
made her life miserable. It was easy to think he could be guilty. It didn’t make any sense, but it made it more fun serving him.

He barked out his order—tea and peach pie—then buried his nose in his books.

A group of students came in and took up a couple of tables, ordering one piece of pie and one large Coke for all of them to share. Maggie remembered doing the same thing many times when she was at Duke. Everyone chipped in so they could afford something.

There were a few restaurants that ran them out if they didn’t each purchase food individually, but Aunt Clara had never operated Pie in the Sky that way. It was one reason the shop had become a haven for students. She also discounted older pies just before closing. Students took them home and ate them the next day or two for practically nothing. Maggie realized Aunt Clara’s focus on her customers’ needs was part of the success of the business.