Live and Let Pie Read online

  “What happened?” I gathered Edgar’s dishes and napkin.

  “They dated in secret for a while and then it all came to a head after Edgar showed up at the prom with Anna. George flew off the handle when he heard the news. They got in a huge fight. Never spoke again. I always wondered if George’s plan to disappear involved taking Anna with him.” Henry wiped the edge of his weathered cheek with a napkin.

  “Did Anna and Edgar continue to date?”

  Henry crumpled up his napkin. “No. She was never the same after George disappeared. It broke Edgar’s heart. He never dated. Never married. Anna was the one, but it wasn’t meant to be. The man hasn’t smiled since Anna took off for the Applegate.” He stood. “I’ve bent your ear for far too long. I should let you get back to work. As I’ve always said, the past should stay in the past. No point in dragging up old, painful memories.”

  “Thanks for stopping by.” I walked Henry upstairs and to the front door. Pam had been right. Henry was knowledgeable about the past. I thought about Edgar’s heartbreak and George’s bashed skull. Had Edgar’s past just resurfaced thanks to Hannah and Ellen’s discovery? Could Edgar have killed George over love?

  Chapter Eleven

  Customers continued to stream in for the next few hours. The party was a success. Everyone in town was amazed at Torte’s transformation and excited to meet our new staff. After we closed for the evening, I was in the kitchen mapping out the plan for the remainder of the week with Marty and Sterling when the sound of angry voices came from upstairs.

  “That’s disgusting. We’re never doing that. Never.” Andy’s voice ricocheted upstairs.

  “What is your deal? You can’t just say no,” I heard Sequoia retort.

  “Give me a minute,” I said to Marty and Sterling, who both obviously had heard the disagreement too.

  “You should quit. You’re not cut out for this.” Andy’s tone was laced with bitterness.

  The fight was escalating. I took the stairs two at a time to find Andy with his arms wrapped around his chest. “Thank God, the voice of reason is here. Boss, please tell her this is a terrible idea.”

  Sequoia twisted one of her dreadlocks. “What’s your deal, man? It’s just an idea. You don’t have to be such a downer about everything.”

  “ME? A downer? I’m the nicest person on the planet. Well, one of them at least. Tell her, Jules.” Andy looked like he was about to jump over the counter.

  “Let’s calm down. Yes, Andy, you are one of the kindest people I know.”

  He shot Sequoia a look to say, I told you so.

  “But you’ve also had a really rough time allowing Sequoia to help. We hired her for her skill and also for her ideas and suggestions on how to make Torte stronger. That’s always been the tone here in the bakeshop. You know that. Mom and I greatly value everyone’s opinions. It’s our collective input that makes us the best coffee shop and bakery in town.”

  “Yeah.” He looked at his feet. “Fine. But listen to her idea and then tell me that I’m not crazy.”

  I waited for Sequoia. She continued to twist her dreadlocks. “It might sound kind of weird, but it’s like super delicious and really chill, you know? I think it will sell well.”

  “What are we talking about?” I stared at both of them.

  “Cheese tea.” Andy made a gagging sound.

  “Cheese tea?” I couldn’t hide my disgust at the thought. I’m sure my face must have contorted, because Andy snapped and pointed at me.

  “See. Look! Look at her face.”

  Sequoia shook her head.

  “It’s gross, isn’t it, boss? Cheese in tea. Ugh!” Andy stuck out his tongue.

  I could tell that Sequoia was close to losing it. Her fingers trembled. Up until now she’d been extremely calm even with Andy’s bristly attitude, but how much more could she take? I was worried she was going to quit.

  “Tell me more.” I held up my hand to stop Andy.

  “It sounds weird, but it’s really popular. We used to serve cheese teas at the bakery cart I worked at in Portland. It’s not like tossing a block of cheddar into a glass or anything. It’s like a very beautiful drink with a subtle cheese flavor. It originated in Asia and has taken off here in the States.”

  “Okay, interesting.” Now I was intrigued. In my travels I had never heard of cheese tea, and I considered myself a student of the global palate.

  “You know, like, a combination of cheeses are used. Melted cream cheese that is whipped with cream, maybe a touch of melted cheddar, and then a dash of salt and sugar for a nice balance of savory with the sweet. One of my favorites is a floral tea with cheese. It’s like a transcendent experience.”

  “That sounds amazing. We have to try it, don’t we, Andy?”

  Andy shrugged. “I guess.” He looked at Sequoia. “You could have explained it like that from the start, instead of just saying cheese tea.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  She had a fair point.

  “Let’s do it for our special tomorrow. Why don’t you head down to the kitchen and make sure we have everything you need? If not, let me know and I’ll be sure to grab the supplies.”

  “Cool. If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended. It just seems like it could be a funky, unique offering here and the tea crowd is always looking for new tastes.”

  “Very true.” I waited until she was out of earshot and stepped closer to Andy. “Is something else going on with you?”

  He swallowed hard. “Why?”

  “You’re not acting like yourself. We already had a conversation a few days ago about your role here, your taking charge of the coffee bar, but you still seem uptight and antagonistic with Sequoia. That’s not like you.”

  “I know. Sorry.” He scuffed the floor with his tennis shoes.

  “I’m worried about you, Andy. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He kept his gaze at his feet. I got the sense he wanted to say more.

  “If there’s something going on, you can talk to me in complete confidence, okay? I care about you, Andy.” Maybe I was overstepping my role as his boss, but everything that I said was the truth. His behavior was so out of character that it didn’t make sense.

  “You promise you won’t tell your mom?”

  What did Mom have to do with Andy’s shift in personality? “I promise,” I agreed.

  He picked up a stir stick and fiddled with it. “I love your mom. She’s like a second mom to me, but I know what she’ll say if I tell her this.”

  I couldn’t imagine what Mom would say that I wouldn’t.

  “The thing is, I don’t know what I want to do, Jules.” He sighed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I mean I’m only twenty and I have no idea what I want to do next.”

  “That’s normal, Andy,” I assured him. “You don’t need to know what you want to do. You’re young. You have plenty of time to figure it out, and I can tell you that speaking from experience, it might change with time. In fact, it probably will change.”

  “Exactly.” He tossed the stir stick in the sink. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. How in the world am I supposed to know what I’m going to do next?”

  “Okay, then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is I want to drop out of school.”

  “Oh.” I was quiet for a second.

  “Yeah, see, it’s that response that I’m dreading. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to tell my mom for weeks, but I know what she’s going to say.”

  “Why do you have to drop out of school if you don’t know what you want to do?”

  “Because I’m wasting money right now. Sure, I love playing football, and I like school fine. But I want to work here. I could coach youth football on the side or something, but it’s stupid to pay for a degree when I don’t know what I want to do long-term. I tried to talk to my mom a little and she says it’s just because I’m a Mi
llennial. But the thing is, this is my generation. I don’t want to spend money on getting a degree I’m not going to use. Maybe I go back later, or maybe I stay here and open my own shop one day.”

  I understood Andy’s perspective. I had seen a shift in thinking in the workforce in recent years. It wasn’t just Ashland either. It had been the same on the Amour of the Seas. Young people were content to work to support their lifestyle. They weren’t as focused on traditional careers as my generation had been. Andy’s struggle spoke of the greater cultural landscape. The American dream for Andy’s generation didn’t necessarily include working a nine-to-five job and buying a house with a lush green lawn and white picket fence.

  I wasn’t sure how to advise him. Dropping out of college was a huge decision and one not to be taken lightly, and yet if he opted to go that route, I would support him completely.

  “You’re not saying much,” Andy said. “Are you preparing a lecture?”

  “Not at all. I was thinking through the pros and cons.” I went on to share my hesitations. I knew that if he dropped out and focused entirely on a career in the restaurant industry, the odds of him going back to school were slim. I also explained that having a degree (even if it was a general business degree) would set him apart from his competition long-term and give him a valuable skill set should he decide to own a business one day.

  “Okay, okay, and what about on the other side?” Andy asked. “What about if I drop out?”

  “If you drop out, I’ll support that decision and I know my mom will as well.”

  “Would there be an opportunity to learn more about the business end of things?”

  “Of course. We could create a training program for you internally.” I thought of the many young chefs that Carlos had mentored over the years, many of whom had gone on to open their own restaurants. I would be thrilled to do the same for Andy, and in some ways, it would be a great help for me. Not that I would share that with him for the moment. I didn’t want to influence his decision.

  “Thanks for listening. It’s helpful.”

  “Anytime.” I could tell he needed some time to think over our conversation, so I made a joke. “I’m just glad that you told me. I was worried that we were going to have to stage an Andy intervention.”

  He smirked. “Yeah, I owe Sequoia an apology. I’ll go talk to her. I guess I’ve been kind of taking out my stress on her.”

  “I get it, and I appreciate that you’re able to see that and make some changes.”

  “Maybe some big changes, if my mom and grandma don’t kill me.” Andy winked.

  I gave him a hug, before he went downstairs to talk to Sequoia. “I’m here for you, anytime. Understood? I might not have answers, but I’m always willing to listen.”

  “Thanks, boss.” He gave my arm a light punch. “You’re the best.”

  “That’s right. Don’t forget it.” I tried to wink but ended up giving him a lopsided smile.

  I felt better after our conversation. I had a feeling that Andy had already made up his mind, but as promised I would keep his secret until he had made a final decision and was ready to share it with everyone. At least now I understood why he’d been so on edge. Hopefully our talk had eased some of his burden. I knew that holding my struggles inside had never served me well. I wanted the best for Andy, and for his happy, easygoing personality to come back.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was about to call it a night. The team had cleaned the bakeshop from top to bottom after the party and had left for drinks at Puck’s Pub. They invited me to join them, but I decided that it might be good to let them bond, especially after Andy’s revelation earlier. I was flipping off the lights when a knock sounded on the front door.

  Thomas and Detective Kerry stood in the door frame.

  I let them in. “What’s going on? Are you two in need of an evening pastry pick-me-up?”

  “Is the Professor here?” Thomas glanced around the dark, empty dining room.

  “No. Why?”

  His face was serious. Detective Kerry looked equally concerned.

  “Is it something with the Professor?” My stomach dropped. I couldn’t imagine what losing the Professor would do to Mom. She had already lost one husband.

  “No, no, sorry, Jules. He’s fine. We’re in go mode at the moment. There’s been a murder and we’re trying to find him. That’s all. I thought since you had the big grand reopening today he might be around.”

  “Thank goodness he’s okay,” I said with relief. “That’s horrible that there’s been a murder. Here in Ashland?”

  Thomas nodded. “Right around the corner. Edgar Hannagan. Did you know him?”

  Detective Kerry cleared her throat. I knew that was her cue to Thomas to stop talking.

  “Edgar Hannagan?” My jaw went slack.

  “Yep,” Thomas replied.

  “I was just talking to him earlier. He and his friend Henry came to the opening. In fact, I was planning to talk to you or the Professor because I learned something that might have bearing on your investigation into George Mill’s death.”

  “What’s that?” Thomas asked.

  I repeated what Henry had told me about George and Edgar’s friendship and how they had come to blows over Anna. “I’ve been wondering if he could have killed George.”

  Thomas looked at Detective Kerry, who gave him a noncommittal look.

  “But if he’s dead that changes my theory, doesn’t it?” I thought aloud. “Or maybe it has nothing to do with George and everything to do with his property that everyone in town seems to want to get their hands on.”

  Detective Kerry perked up at this news. She motioned for Thomas to get out his mini iPad. “Can you please expand?”

  I told them about my conversation with Malcom, and how he had basically demanded that I lend my support to his plan to develop housing for the OSF company on the lot.

  “And the other parties interested in the property?” Detective Kerry asked for clarification when I was done.

  “Gretchen. I don’t know her last name. She’s the new director of the homeless council. The council is interested in putting up a permanent homeless village.”

  I waited for Thomas to take notes. “The owner of Nightingales, Pam, is hoping to buy the lot to keep it as is, and then there’s a developer—Stella—who wants it for an expensive tiny-house development.”

  “How do you know so much about this?” Detective Kerry looked genuinely shocked.

  Thomas chuckled. “Torte knows everyone’s secrets. I think they sneak an elixir into their pastries.”

  “You never know.” I laughed. “But, seriously, most of this I found out because Mom and the Professor were considering the lot.”

  Thomas and Kerry shared a strange look.

  “Thanks for the intel, Jules.” Thomas tucked the iPad back into his pocket. “If you see the Professor will you have him call one of us right away?”

  “Will do.”

  They started for the door.

  “Before you go, can I talk you into taking some hand pies or cupcakes with you?” I pointed to a couple of boxes resting on the counter. “We have a ton of leftovers from the party that I’m going to drop off at the homeless council.”

  “You’re trying to butter us up, huh?” Thomas reached for his handcuffs. “We should arrest her for bribing cops.”

  Detective Kerry rolled her eyes, but I caught a glimpse of humor pass over her face as she took the box of sweets. “Let’s go.”

  I watched them cross the plaza toward the Lithia fountains. Edgar was dead. He owned what might be the most coveted piece of property in Ashland and had been murdered. I wasn’t a trained detective like Kerry or Thomas, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two might be connected. But then again, I couldn’t discount Edgar’s past. Could there also be a connection with George Mill? After what I had learned from Henry I had been fairly sure there was a solid possibility that Edgar had killed George. It made sense. Henry had said that
Edgar was never the same again. What if he had lived with guilt for all these years and the discovery of George’s remains had pushed him over the edge? Was there a chance that Thomas and Detective Kerry had it wrong? Maybe it wasn’t murder. Could Edgar have taken his own life?

  Two murders complicated everything.

  I thought of my conversation with Malcom. He was an upstanding member of the community and a high-ranking figure at OSF. His contempt for Edgar had been apparent from the moment I met him. Could he have decided that he didn’t want to try and become the highest bidder for the property? Maybe he decided to ensure that OSF could provide housing for its actors with drastic measures.

  What’s wrong with you, Jules? I shook myself free from my thoughts.

  Perhaps before I started coming up with random theories in my head it would make sense to learn more about each of the people interested in the property. I was in a unique position to make that happen, as Thomas had pointed out. Not that he had exactly asked me to get involved in the investigation, but I already had an “in” so to speak.

  I knew just who to start with: Gretchen at the homeless council. And I had the perfect excuse—pastry. I picked up the boxes of untouched baked goods and headed down the block. The homeless council offices were located directly across the street from Lithia Park. The council had taken over an authentic log cabin, known as Homesteader Hall, that had once served as Ashland’s community center. When a new facility was built about ten years ago, the homeless council moved in. It was an ideal location for their staff and volunteers to do outreach in the park and the surrounding hiking trails. However, the hall had been built in the late 1800s and was in need of serious upgrades to bring it up to code.

  As a stopgap measure, the city council had voted in favor of allowing the homeless council to use it as a temporary shelter last winter during a major snow and ice storm. It was never intended to be a permanent solution. The hall needed extensive repairs including a major overhaul of the plumbing and electric systems, a new roof, and flooring. Additionally, city engineers were concerned that the hall’s brick chimney would fail and crumble in an earthquake. There had been an ongoing debate in the local newspaper about the future of the building and where to house the homeless council moving forward.