Pecan Pies and Homicides (2 page)

The oven timer beeped, jarring Ella Mae from her maudlin reverie. The Red Hot Apple Pie was done baking. Grabbing a pair of potholders, Ella Mae opened the oven door and a blast of cinnamon-spiced air rushed out to greet her. Unlike the sharp, wintry wind that had snuck inside the shop with Mr. Crump, this was a warm and gentle caress.

Without waiting for the pie to cool, Ella Mae cut a large wedge and plated it. Pushing through the kitchen's swing door, she carried the dessert to Mr. Crump and set it before him. “This is on the house,” she said, smiling. “When you mentioned having icicles hanging from your beard, I felt inspired to bake you something special. I promise that it'll only take one bite to transport you to a place of sunshine and birdsong.” With that, Ella Mae moved behind the counter and began to assemble takeout boxes that she didn't need. From the corner of her eye, she watched Mr. Crump study the pie warily. Eventually, he lifted a forkful to his mouth.

Ella Mae held her breath.

Reba came around the counter to refill the coffee carafe. “Don't worry, hon. You were born to inject food with magic. To influence how folks feel. That, and so much more. Watch Mr. Crump there. Watch how he changes for the better. If you'd just believe in the good your gifts can do, then you'll realize that you're capable of anythin'. You can rescue your mama, unite your kind, and bake a helluva pie. Watch and believe.”

Reluctantly, Ella Mae complied. She saw Mr. Crump chew, swallow, and hesitate. He stared down at the food on his plate as if he couldn't comprehend what he'd just tasted. Clearly surprised, he took another bite. A glint of light surfaced in his eyes and as he continued to devour the pie, his entire face started to glow. His sallow cheeks turned pink and his mouth curved into a wide, boyish smile. After one more bite, he was shrugging off his coat and unwinding the threadbare scarf wrapped like a noose around his thin neck.

“What's in this pie?” he shouted. His voice was no longer weak and reedy. It resonated with strength and virility.

The other patrons stopped talking and turned to see what Mr. Crump was eating.

“It's a Red Hot Apple Pie,” Ella Mae said, stepping out from behind the counter. “I was hoping it would warm you up.”

“It's done more than that, my girl!” Mr. Crump sat back in his chair and grinned at her. The joyful expression transformed him, erasing years from his skin and making his eyes shine like sunlight on the lake. He stood up, tossing back the dregs of his coffee as if it were a shot of whiskey, and turned to face the other customers. After clearing his throat, he began to sing.

Ella Mae didn't recognize the melody or the lyrics about woods and fertile meadows, but the song painted a picture of the mountains surrounding Havenwood. She could visualize the blue hills as they looked in springtime, dressed in green leaves and sunshine.

At first, the pie shop's customers gaped at Mr. Crump, but by the time he'd reached the third stanza, their gazes had turned wistful and several of them swayed in their chairs.

And then, a woman who'd been sitting alone near the rotating display case slowly rose to her feet and added her soft, sweet soprano to Mr. Crump's rich baritone. Together, they sang. The words soared through the pie shop like graceful birds, casting a spell over everyone in the room.

Hail to the blue green grassy hills;

Hail to the great peaked hummocky mountains;

Hail to the forests, hail to all there,

Content I would live there forever.

When the song was finished, Ella Mae and her patrons clapped heartily and someone cried, “I'd like what he had for dessert!”

The request was taken up by all of her customers.

“You'd best get back in the kitchen, girl,” Reba said with a sly wink. “Keep on singin' folks,” she announced gaily. “A slice of Red Hot Apple Pie in exchange for a song.”

As Ella Mae hurried through the swing door, she heard the organist from the Methodist church sing the opening line of the hymn “Another Year Is Dawning.”

Surrounded by music and warmth, Ella Mae began rolling out dough.

Two hours later, she peeked into the dining room and was surprised to see that none of her customers had left. Some had changed seats to chat with other diners, and the organist and the town florist were playing cards with Mr. Crump, but every person was still there. The room had grown loud. Gone was the subdued lunchtime murmur, replaced by story swapping and raucous laughter.

“Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?” Reba asked, looking smug.

Nodding, Ella Mae reached for the tray of dirty dishes Reba had set on the counter. “Okay, you're right. I've been moping far too long. My mother wouldn't want that. She'd want to see what I'm seeing: the people of her community coming together to share a meal, a song, and a laugh.”

“Like I said before, anythin' is possible,” Reba said gently as the two women returned to the kitchen. “Break your mama's spell. Yes. But don't forget to weave a few of your own. Speakin' of that subject, Suzy Bacchus just came in. She looks like a kid waitin' to ride the Ferris wheel. She's so antsy that I couldn't even get her to sit down. Want me to send her back?”

Ella Mae, who'd been busy loading cutlery into the dishwasher, froze. “Please. And can you ask her to bring me a cup of coffee? The day feels like it's lasting forever. Not that I mind. I'm thrilled with what's happening in that dining room. I just need a jolt of caffeine before I clean the kitchen.”

“Sure, I'll let Suzy play waitress. But I'm not sharin' my tips,” Reba teased and then vanished through the swing door.

Suzy Bacchus owned Havenwood's book and gift store, an eclectic shop called the Cubbyhole. Like Ella Mae, she had special abilities. Suzy had a photographic memory. Despite the fact that her mind was a storehouse of knowledge, she was humble, bubbly, and fun. Whenever she entered a room, she immediately filled it with positive energy. When she breezed into The Charmed Pie Shoppe's kitchen, Ella Mae felt as if the lights shone a little brighter.

“I have big news!” Suzy said, setting a coffee mug on the wooden worktable. She yanked off her fuchsia hat and a pair of hand-knitted mittens and tossed the accessories on top of a crate of potatoes.

“I'm all ears.”

After pushing back a lock of light brown hair from her cheek, Suzy took a deep breath and said, “I know we've spent the past few months poring over any and all references to the Flower of Life in hopes that it would free your mom. We started at the beginning by researching the Gilgamesh legend. That story described the original Flower of Life.”

“Suzy, we've read everything under the sun about Gilgamesh. I'm sick to death of the guy. He got his flower. We need to find another one. Preferably, within driving distance.”

Suzy grabbed Ella Mae's hands. “That's what I'm here to tell you! According to the Gaelic scroll I found in your family's library, these magical blooms can be found near our sacred groves. In other words, if a sacred grove is located near a body of water, then there's a Flower of Life growing in the deepest part of that water.”

“Like a lake? As in Lake Havenwood?”

Suzy's eyes glimmered with triumph. “I think so, yes.” Her exultant expression dimmed a little. “There's just one teeny tiny complication.”

“Naturally,” Ella Mae grumbled and then quickly squeezed her friend's hand. “I'm sorry. You've been such an amazing friend. I have no right to take my frustration out on you.”

“
I
should be mad at
you
. Do you realize that I've gained ten pounds since we started hanging out?” She gave Ella Mae a wolfish grin. “Speaking of which, what's got your customers feeling so merry? It's like Christmas in that dining room.”

Ella Mae cut a wedge of Red Hot Apple Pie for Suzy. “You can have the whole pie if you'll finish telling me what you learned.”

“You've got yourself a deal!” Suzy popped a bite into her mouth and nodded enthusiastically. “Hmmm. This is
good
.” Licking her lips, she said, “To make a long and complicated story short and complicated, I'll begin by saying that over two hundred years ago, a local man wrote a book called
Lake Lore of the Americas
. I can only find references to this book in other authors' bibliographies. But apparently, this nifty little tome was all about lake magic. Elemental spirits. Sea foam women appearing to the colonists. That sort of thing. There's also a whole chapter devoted to the rare and powerful objects
within
certain lakes. And while I can't track down an actual copy of
Lake Lore of the Americas
, I believe I know someone who can. Are you ready to hear the awesome part?”

“I am.” Suzy's optimism was contagious. Ella Mae could feel it singing through her blood, more beautiful and sweet than any of the tunes she'd heard today.

“Because the author was from Havenwood, his family might have a copy of his book. I bet the print run was quite small, and since the subject matter was obscure, the title's virtually disappeared off the face of the earth. Still, I like to think that at least one copy would have been kept by his children and his children's children.”

“Let's hope so.” Ella Mae touched the burn scar on her palm. It was shaped like a four-leaf clover and she often rubbed the smooth, puckered skin when she was anxious. She'd gotten the burn several months ago when a glass pie dish had slipped from a potholder and made contact with her skin. According to legend, the mark indicated that she might be the Clover Queen, a woman born of two magical parents who would one day unite the descendants of Morgan le Fay and Guinevere and forever break the curse placed upon their kind by the warlock, Myrddin.

Suzy shot a quick, fascinated glance at the burn before meeting Ella Mae's gaze. “The only drawback is that you don't exactly get along with his descendants.”

“Let me guess,” Ella Mae said miserably. “He's a Gaynor.”

Suzy nodded. “And I know exactly when to broach the subject of the book with your old pal, Loralyn.”

Saying nothing, Ella Mae only raised her brows.

“I've been invited to a party at their place tonight,” Suzy continued airily. “Guess who's going to be my plus one?”

Ella Mae groaned.

“That's the spirit! Now why don't you go home, take a long, hot bath, and put on your nicest dress? We can have a cocktail before we head over to . . . what's the name of their estate?”

“Rolling View,” Ella Mae said. “Listen, Suzy. I know that you're on good terms with the Gaynors, and really, I'm happy about that. The feud between our families is just that. A feud between our families. But they won't be pleased when I show up tonight. I haven't been to their house since Loralyn's seventh birthday party.”

“What happened at that party?”

Smiling, Ella Mae said, “I hit Loralyn with a Wiffle ball bat.”

Suzy's jaw dropped. “You went Babe Ruth on the birthday girl?”

“I was aiming for the piñata, I swear, but I was blindfolded and Loralyn's friends had spun me around so many times that I didn't know which way was up, so I just stumbled forward as fast as I could and swung away.” Ella Mae smiled wickedly. “You should have heard the
smack
the bat made when it connected with Loralyn's cheek. I hightailed it out of there without even bothering to pick up my loot bag.”

Suzy started laughing. She threw back her head and let the laughter bubble out of her. She couldn't seem to stop. Before long, Ella Mae was laughing too.

Reba entered the kitchen a moment later and glanced at the two friends. “I don't know why the two of you are hootin' and hollerin' like hyenas on crack, but I came back to say that I've started kickin' folks out. It's time to close and I've made enough cash to enjoy myself at the bowling alley tonight.” She gave her apron pocket a satisfied pat. “All thanks to your special pie, Ella Mae.”

“And Mr. Crump?” Ella Mae asked. “Is he still feeling good?”

Reba snorted. “I haven't seen a happier man in ages. Well, other than the ones who wake up next to me, of course. Mr. Crump's been invited to play bingo tonight and bunco next Monday. And if he wasn't a churchgoer before, he's gonna become one real fast. That organist is sweet on him. Cal Evans wants to go ice fishin' with him. That man's calendar is fillin' up.” Reba studied Ella Mae. “What about yours? You have any special plans for tonight?”

“Yes,” Ella Mae said. “I'm going to fortify myself with a few shots of whiskey, pack my Colt in an evening bag, and crash the Gaynors' party.”

“That's my girl,” Reba said, beaming.

That night, Ella Mae grew restless waiting for Suzy to show up so they could drive to the Gaynors' party together. Pulling on a heavy coat, she grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, and whistled for Chewy. Together, she and her terrier strolled through her mother's garden. There was a hush over all the dormant plants, and the only light came from the reflection of the stars off the windows of Partridge Hill, Ella Mae's childhood home. The main house was empty now, and though Ella Mae's aunts had urged her to move in, she refused to leave the cozy guest cottage tucked in a secluded nook in the rear of the property. Partridge Hill was her mother's domain and Ella Mae refused to give up on the idea that her mother would soon return to take care of it.

Finally, she heard Suzy's car and sent Chewy to fetch her friend. Her faithful dog returned a minute later, Suzy following on his heels. “In case you haven't noticed, it's the dead of winter.” She pointed at the wineglass in Ella Mae's hand. “And where's mine?”

“I didn't mean to start without you,” Ella Mae said with a wry smile. “I was just letting it breathe.”

“Sure, you were. I can see it breathing all the way to your lips.” She looked around. “What are you doing out here anyway? It's freezing!”

Ella Mae smiled. “I wanted to see if the New Year's roses had bloomed yet. When January 1 came and went and the buds hadn't opened, I was certain that the bush had died. Noel has a green thumb, but he doesn't have my mother's gift.”

“No,” Suzy agreed. “But I'm glad he and Kelly are taking care of her house and yard. I wish you'd invite one of your aunts to move in until your mom comes back. I don't like you being here alone.”

“I have Chewy,” Ella Mae reminded her. “Though my sweet boy isn't a puppy anymore. And I think he needs a friend. Even when I'm around, I'm not giving him enough attention. He wants to play every second of the day. See?”

Suzy glanced to where the Jack Russell, whose formal name was Charleston Chew, sat on his haunches on the garden path. He had a stick in his mouth and his short tail was thumping against the ground in a feverish rhythm.

“Come here, Chewy!” Ella Mae clapped her hands and the terrier ran to her. When he was close enough to be touched, he paused for half a heartbeat and then zipped by the two women without giving them a chance to grab the stick.

“You're such a tease,” Suzy chided, laughing. “I'll bring Jasmine over on Sunday afternoon. She can chase Chewy all over the yard while we're hopefully perusing the pages of
Lake Lore of the Americas
.”

Ella Mae led Suzy to the garden bench where she'd left a carafe of red wine alongside an empty glass. “We can go back inside now.”

“Not until you show me this rose. I've never seen one before.”

Suzy poured herself half a glass of wine and followed Ella Mae around a statue of Pan to where a semicircle of rosebushes sat huddled against the side of the house. Like most of the plants, the bushes were brown and leggy. Yet here and there, tiny white roses bloomed amid the tangle of twigs and thorns. The petals were paper-thin and fragile and were streaked with pale blue veins.

“They're not that pretty,” Ella Mae said. “It's the scent that makes them so special. Go on, give them a sniff.”

Suzy leaned over one of the roses, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. “I smell grass covered with a layer of frost. And pine trees.” She paused and smelled the roses again. “And a trace of peppermint.” Straightening, she smiled at Ella Mae. “Your mother's magic is still here.”

“I have to bring her back. She'll need to bring this place to life when winter's over. I just don't know how I'm going to convince the Gaynors to help. Our families called an uneasy truce at the harvest, but I've barely seen them since. I'm sure Loralyn's been hatching all kinds of diabolical plots and has probably seduced another rich old fool with a heart condition. She'll get him to marry her and then do her best to cause his next heart attack.”

“Is she really that bad?” Suzy asked.

Ella Mae paused and tried to put her feelings for her nemesis into words. “She's a bully. Always has been and always will be. And she uses people. Takes what she wants from them and then tosses them away like garbage. With her looks, money, and talent, she could do so much good, but making the world a better place has never been her goal.” Ella Mae put her arm through Suzy's and led her out of the garden. “But I'm glad to hear that she's nice to you. I'd like to think there's another side to her than the one I know.”

Suzy shrugged. “She buys almost every health and beauty book and magazine I get in. It keeps Jasmine in organic dog treats for months.” She nudged Ella Mae in the side. “Just keep your eye on the prize tonight. Besides, you're the daughter of the Lady of the Ash. Everyone has to treat you with respect and you should have been invited to this party anyway, considering it's for a bunch of our kind from Tennessee. Loralyn told me that their grove was destroyed a few days after Christmas.”

Ella Mae gasped. “How awful!” The loss of a grove meant the end of magic for the people living nearby. If they didn't relocate to a new town with a source of power, they'd eventually lose their gifts. “Maybe the Gaynors are actually going to help others for a change. I'd love to see that.” She let Chewy back into her house and then jiggled her car keys. “I'll drive, though you might regret it later when the bouncers toss me out. When Loralyn and I get together, there's always some drama.”

“You're on a quest,” Suzy said. “There's supposed to be drama. The dull stories never make it into the books.”

“The stories are all wrong anyway,” Ella Mae said. “The real versions are locked away in secret libraries like the one in my mother's house. I can only imagine what tales the Gaynors have hidden inside theirs.”

“Oh, what I'd give to find out!” Suzy cried. “Just be on your best behavior. We really need to see their copy of
Lake Lore of the Americas
. If they have one, that is.”

“They must,” Ella Mae said firmly. And under her breath, she added, “And I'll do anything to get it from them.”

• • •

Dozens of cars blocked Rolling View's circular driveway so Ella Mae parked her Jeep on the side of Sulphur Springs Road. At the entrance of the Gaynors' Georgian mansion, a woman clad in black pants, a white blouse, and a burgundy vest took their coats while a man in matching uniform offered them a glass of champagne.

“I like the way this party is starting,” Suzy said and took a sip. “Hmm, nice bubbly.”

Ella Mae glanced at the enormous portrait of Opal Gaynor hanging over a mahogany hall table. Opal must have been about sixteen when she sat for the painting. She was dressed in a debutante's gown of shimmering white, and though her waves of golden hair and regal features were lovely, her eyes were cold and calculating, lending her a hardness that didn't suit her tender age or demure posture.

“An example of what good breeding looks like,” said a haughty voice from behind Ella Mae. “You should take notes.”

Ella Mae turned and gave Loralyn Gaynor a polite smile. “I apologize for being here without an invitation. Suzy asked me to accompany her and I couldn't say no.” She forced herself to smile even wider. “The parties at Rolling View are always the most talked-about events of the season, and since Suzy didn't want to come alone, I didn't want her to miss out.”

“How generous of you,” Loralyn said with icy courtesy. She smoothed her strapless black gown and pivoted to welcome Suzy as if they were the best of friends. Hugging her, she exclaimed, “You're gorgeous! I told you that moisturizing facial would make you radiant.”

Suzy gave Ella Mae a helpless shrug. “Loralyn keeps trying to make me glamorous.” She gestured at the luxurious surroundings. “Speaking of glamour, you must give me the grand tour. This place is divine. I'd also like to thank your mother for putting me on the guest list. Is she around?”

“She's in the kitchen instructing the caterers,” Loralyn said. She glanced behind her to make sure that none of the hired help was within earshot. A waiter saw her looking and moved forward with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, but Loralyn waved him off with an impatient flick of the wrist and whispered, “We're entertaining the upper crust from a small town west of Chattanooga. Their grove is gone. Forever.” She tried to sound sympathetic but failed. Ella Mae wondered if the Gaynors were working on a way to profit from others' misfortunate.

“Suzy's grove was destroyed by developers,” Ella Mae said, uncertain whether Loralyn was aware of this fact. “That's how she ended up in Havenwood.” She didn't want Loralyn to say anything insensitive about the displaced Tennesseans. It had been horribly upsetting for Suzy to have to leave her home on the North Carolina coast. “What happened to the grove in Tennessee?”

“Someone set fire to it.” Loralyn was unable to conceal the gleam in her eyes. Even as a child, she'd relished tales of devastation and tragedy. “The whole thing burned to the ground. Even the Lady of the Ash is gone. She's nothing more than a pile of black cinders.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I'm sorry, Ella Mae. I didn't mean for you to imagine your own mother meeting a similar fate.”

Ella Mae pushed down the rage welling inside her. “I'm not. But perhaps this is a good time to remind you that your powers are intact because my mother committed a brave and selfless act? She sacrificed her life for our kind. All of us—not just the rich and influential. I see you and your family have only invited the highborn tonight. What will happen to the rest of the people from Tennessee?”

Loralyn gave an eloquent shrug of her bare shoulders. “I don't know. Why don't you hire a few of them? Or has business fallen off too much for you to need any extra help?”

Suzy cleared her throat. “Come on, ladies. Isn't this supposed to be a party?” She took Loralyn's arm in hers. “I heard that the Gaynors are one of Georgia's first families. You must have some amazing books. Could I see your library? Pretty please?”

“Forgive my rudeness, Suzy.” Loralyn's voice was a soft purr. “Ella Mae and I have known each other for so long that we sometimes act like kids and need a third party to act as referee. Thanks for blowing the whistle.” She smiled. “Come on. I'll show you our entire collection. I'm sure Ella Mae would prefer to mingle. Perhaps she'll even drum up a new customer or two.”

“Actually, I need to speak with your mother,” Ella Mae said crisply. “As the Lady's daughter, I should be involved in any decisions about relocating these Tennesseans to Havenwood.”

At this, Loralyn widened her eyes. “No one wanted to burden you. Ever since the harvest, you've seemed too fragile to be burdened with our affairs.”

As much as it stung, Ella Mae couldn't deny the truth of that remark. She suddenly realized how her obsession with freeing her mother had caused her to neglect her duties. It was her responsibility to keep abreast of the major issues concerning her kind. Yet, she'd been so wrapped up in her personal quest that she had no idea what those issues were. “You're right, Loralyn. I haven't been playing the part my mother fought so hard to win me, but that's going to change as of this moment.”

Suzy gave her a thumbs-up and then tugged on Loralyn's arm. “Enough of the serious stuff. Loralyn, please tell me that some of these wealthy and powerful men from Tennessee are also young, hot, and single. I have a feeling it's going to be a long winter and I need someone to keep me warm.”

Loralyn laughed and pulled Suzy after her into the next room. Ella Mae watched them disappear in a crowd of elegant men and women and then headed for the kitchen. The catering staff swarmed around the cavernous space like an army of ants—chopping, sautéing, frying, garnishing, and plating one delicious dish after another. When she asked after Opal Gaynor, a woman holding a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops jerked her head in the direction of the sunroom.

Ella Mae found Opal conversing with a middle-aged man in a wheelchair. A beautiful young woman with creamy skin and long silvery blond hair stood behind the wheelchair. She didn't appear to be listening to what was being said and her gaze was fixed on the French doors leading to the back terrace.

Seeing Ella Mae, Opal didn't bother to hide her surprise. “Ms. LeFaye. I wasn't expecting you this evening.”

Ella Mae smiled at the strangers and introduced herself. “I know, and I'm sorry to interrupt. I just need a moment of your time.”

“Can't it wait, dear?” Opal asked with disarming sweetness. “Mr. Morgan and I were just discussing the relocation of his successful computer software firm to Havenwood.”

The man looked Ella Mae over with an air of detachment. She felt like a racehorse being examined for sale. “A LeFaye? Any relation to Adelaide LeFaye?”