Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) (7 page)

Roll out pie crust to slightly more than 1/8" thick and use a round cookie cutter about 3 1/2 " wide (or a wide-mouthed jar ring) to cut out circles. Slide the crust into the muffin tins--it's best to bend up the edges and slide it down, then smooth the crust against the sides of the tin. Prick the crusts with a fork. You could also use a cupcake liner for easier removal. Bake for 10-15 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from oven and allow to cool completely.

Filling: Mix the softened cream cheese, sugar and lemon juice on medium until well blended. Then add the 1/2 cup of cream and whip until fluffy, stopping to scrap the sides of the bowl several times. Spoon about a tablespoon of filling in each cooled mini-tart crust. Chill.

Topping: Place all dry ingredients into a medium sauce pan on low heat and mix, add the water and mix well, then add the blueberries. Heat until the mix starts to simmer well. Take off the heat and allow to cool completely. Spoon over the tart filling. Makes 18-20 mini tarts.

When Lenny showed himself at the back door that afternoon, his chef’s jacket on, shaved, wearing stud earrings and looking a hundred percent better, I had nearly burned through my annoyance at him. “Come in. Did you get something to eat before you came down?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already four thirty.

“I had some cereal. You said you have coffee here, right?” His eyes were still a little bleary, though he looked a lot better otherwise.

I gestured to the cappuccino machine. “Help yourself. When you’re feeling completely awake we’ll go over the procedures here.”

He smiled and walked through the kitchen, tapping a hand on each of the cupboard doors and telling me what was in them before opening them to reveal the items he’d mentioned.  The show-off. When he got to the order pad that sat near the register, he explained protocol and goggled at the price of the last sale. “Wow, you’re really underpricing your food. No wonder you can’t afford to pay me more.”

With a tug at the order pad, I flipped it closed again and stashed it beside the register. “No, I’m not underpricing them. We’re fifty percent higher than the grocery store bakery—or more depending on the item. People don’t pay five bucks for a cupcake here—no matter how decadent it is. I’d have gone under by now if I charged Chicago prices.”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the cappuccino machine again. “Since you just demonstrated the fact that I’m a creature of habit who keeps everything in essentially the same place as I did in the restaurant in Chicago, you can get that drink and we’ll talk about the menu and pricing.” I acted irritated, but it was so nice having him here—and that I could trust him to know what he was doing and to need very little oversight.

Several more customers came in while he sipped his coffee and watched us interact. When the last one left with a chocolate cake for dinner that night, he shook his head. “Things here in Cowboy Springs really are different.”

I leaned back against the counter and studied him. “Are you sorry you came?”

“No.” But his expression said he wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. “I needed a complete change. This is sure going to be it.” He looked around as if still not believing he was here.

“Things at the hotel got that bad, did they?”

 He tapped the side of his coffee cup. “We’ll just say that Karen never liked me when you worked there, and she disliked me even more after you left. I was probably on my last leg there anyway.” He finished his drink and tossed the paper cup, moving toward the counter. “You’re doing me a favor, getting me out of there.”

“When’s Kat coming?” I felt a tug of worry when grief passed through his expression, then was shunted away.

“Give me a list of your flavors.” He pulled out an order form I showed to customers and began paging through.

“Lenny.” I couldn’t believe he’d just ignored my question.

His eyes closed for a moment before he returned his gaze to the papers. “Just leave it, will you? Not now.”

They could not have broken up. Lenny and Kat went together like milk and cookies, like cake and filling, like ganache and fondant. The look in his eyes was heartbreaking, though, so I tried to accept his request. My ringing cell phone assisted in that.

“Hey, Honey,” I answered when her name popped up on the display. “What’s up?”

“I thought maybe when your friend comes in tonight we could all grab some dinner and do some dancing at the Silver Spur. Show him a real friendly Cowboy Springs hello.” She’d found his nickname for our town funny and often used it when we were alone.

“He’s already here. He dragged in this morning looking like a whole herd of cows ran over him. I think Mary Ellen nearly had a heart attack.”

Lenny chuckled and started adjusting the pastries in the display cases. I kicked his shoe in annoyance, which only made it worse.

“Really? That must have been fun,” Honey said.

“Okay,” I admitted after a moment of trying to hold back my laugh. “It was hilarious. She looked like she thought he was going to mug us, and I just laid into him about being such a mess.”

“And telling me to shower before sleeping in your bed,” he said loud enough that Honey would be able to hear him.

“You said what?” she asked, half laughing in surprise.

“I explained. Anyway, I think a country hello is exactly what this kid needs. Meet you at seven?”

“We’ll be there.”

I ended the call and turned to find him staring at me as if I’d grown another head. “Did you just call me a
kid
? And what exactly is your idea of a country hello?”

I ignored the first question. “We’re going to the bar for fried food and really bad, loud music.”

“And beer?” He perked up at that.

I sent him a scathing look. “Just remember you have to be down here ready to work by six tomorrow morning. If you’re hung over, you get the crap jobs all day.”

His face fell, which made me laugh.

 The Silver Spur was just what you’d expect a country bar to be: everything was decorated in rough-hewn logs, and the air stung of cigarette smoke even though the clean air laws meant no one had smoked in the building for years—at least, not during open hours. And though I’d heard they cleaned every night, the floor looked like it hadn’t seen a mop inside of this century. In contrast, the kitchen shined—I’d checked before I ever ate there.

An old Garth Brooks tune blared over the speakers as Lenny and I joined Honey and George at the corner booth they’d staked out near the pool tables while we waited for a game to end. George’s dark hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it all afternoon—which, knowing him, he probably had. Honey’s kinky black locks were done in cornrows and pulled back from her face, which was set off by enormous gold hoop earrings. She’d never really cared what was in style when it came to jewelry; she wore what she liked and made it look fabulous.

“Hey, looks like you beat us,” I said when we reached the table. I made introductions, glad that Lenny’s T-shirt and jeans were infinitely more presentable this time than they’d been that morning, though one of his tats rested low enough on his shoulder to peek out of one sleeve whenever he moved his arm.

We ordered food and a round of drinks—mine was a Coke. While we ate, the music changed from bluegrass to old country western, to the newer pop sounds of Taylor Swift.

“Not too choosy about their tunes here, are they?” Lenny asked when he and George had exhausted conversation about the grocery store.

“Sure they are,” Honey said loudly to be heard over the noise. “As long as it’s got twang, they’re good to go.”

The pool table nearest to us emptied and we grabbed it while we had the chance.

“Anyone care to wager?” Lenny asked.

“No, you shark, we don’t need to lose all our money to you.” I laughed when he scowled at me. “I know too many of your secrets, and you might fool a few people into playing you, but it’s a small town. Word gets around pretty quick.”

Again his expression said he was regretting something, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t about the game. Did he wish he hadn’t come here? Before I could ask him, though, he grabbed a cue. “That’s okay; a friendly game is
almost
as good as one where I walk away with your money.”

He took it easy on us, giving everyone a chance for at least one turn before clearing the table. We played teams, switching pairs from game to game. His team always won.

As he ran the table for the third time, I caught the conversation from the table beside us. I turned their way when Eric Hogan’s name came up.

“You know that Hogan prob’ly pestered someone ‘til they couldn’t help but kill him to get him to shet up.” It was the contractor from the fitness center, Marty Grizzle. “Man was always buzzin’ around the building site, always pokin’ his nose in where it don’t belong.” He pushed his Stetson further back on his head and lined up the shot.

“He made an awful lot of enemies,” a skinny man in dirty jeans and a holey plaid shirt agreed. I studied him for a long moment out of the corner of my eye, but couldn’t place him. He didn’t come into my shop, that was for sure.

“Man like him’s bound to make enemies.” Marty hit the ball, which only glanced off the number five. He swore and stood out of the way while the other guy stepped in. “Look at that—first he makes my life an ever-livin’ nightmare while I build that fitness center, now he’s costing me shots. A bullet to the head’s too easy a death for him, if you ask me.”

Another man approached the table and the conversation changed gears as his companion started sinking balls in quick succession. I turned back to see Lenny drop the eight ball and looked at the rest of my group. No one else had heard that? I asked my friends, “You guys about done? I thought maybe we could finish off the cheesecake in the display case back at the shop.”

“You know I never turn down cheesecake,” Honey said.

Lenny looked me up and down. “So how are you staying so skinny?”

“I don’t eat that many desserts,” I said, feeling self-conscious. Skinny was an extremely flattering description of my curvy body—and I use the word ‘curvy’ because I refuse to use negative words to describe myself, even if the curves aren’t exactly packed on the way I’d like.

We walked out and reconvened in the pastry shop a few minutes later. I drizzled—okay, more like poured—chocolate sauce over pieces for me and Honey, Lenny picked blueberry topping and George went for the cinnamon twists. Again. Being lactose intolerant was really no fun for the man.

“Okay,” Honey said when we were all seated around the bistro table. “What’s running through your head? There’s more to it than a cheesecake craving.”

“You know me so well.” I loved that about this moment—being with my best friend, to whom I was so much closer than most sisters, and Lenny who had slowly become someone I could depend on, despite his outer façade. If it weren’t for this murder case hanging over my head, I’d be in heaven. I spied Lenny’s blueberry topping, and when Jack’s face came into my mind, I had the thought that maybe there was something—or rather someone—else who might make the moment more perfect. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking about guys.

“So, what is it?” Lenny asked.

“Marty Grizzle, the contractor for the Silver Springs Fitness Center was at the next table. He kept talking about how much he disliked Eric, what a problem he’d been and how he was glad Eric was dead. He even said shooting was too easy a death.” I shivered when I thought of anyone hating another person enough to make that kind of comment.

“Whoa. Sounds like you’ve got yourself a suspect,” Lenny said.

“No kidding. Okay, so I need an excuse to talk to him, to bring up the job he did and see if I can get more information out of him. I’d prefer to do this without risking being killed.” Nearly getting killed last time was not a fun experience, so a little stealth was definitely in order.

“Good plan; you not dying is job security for me,” Lenny agreed.

“Oh, I don’t know. If I died, you might end up with the business,” I teased him. I actually hadn’t even thought about what would happen to the building or my other belongings if I wasn’t around anymore, and made a mental note to look into it.