Never Say Pie (A Pie Shop Mystery) by Carol Culver Read Free Book Online

something to hide. Especially Sam. He’d spent years in the city before coming back as police chief and had never disclosed much of what happened to him before he became our police chief. Somehow he’d managed to have a career as a big city cop and he’d also made a fair amount of money while he was gone. However he did that, it wasn’t by working in law enforcement. That I was sure of.
    It turned out Sam asked if they would mind stopping by his office for a very brief interview tonight, since they were here in town anyway. But if it wasn’t convenient, he’d be glad to re-schedule.
    Everyone agreed to do it then and there. No one wants a visit to the police station hanging over their head. I sure didn’t. And so went the evening. The evening we’d planned to get back at the food critic ended in a different way altogether. Somebody got back at the critic all right, but I didn’t think it was one of us.
    One by one the group filed over to Sam’s office at the police station across the street. When they came back they seemed deflated. Not the way you want to start out a weekend of pushing your products. Standing on your feet for eight hours smiling and greeting customers, peddling your pies, your sausages, or whatever takes a lot of energy. And a strong belief in yourself. Selling all day is exhausting, if you’re any good at it that is. As Kate said, you’re selling yourself as much as your product.
    By the time it was my turn to sit in the hot seat across the desk from Sam, I was already feeling drained and on edge at the same time. I wasn’t ready for tomorrow’s Food Fair yet. I also had a problem keeping my mouth shut when I should, and I knew by now that Sam would take advantage of that. So I waved goodbye to my new friends and told myself to button my lip and only answer his questions with yes or no.

Three
     
    The police station was empty except for Sam. He had a couple of deputies, but they were only on duty when there was an emergency. I assume a murder qualifies, so maybe they were out interviewing suspects. If there were any besides us. Or was his staff at home with their families? I couldn’t picture Sam with a family. If he had one, would he be as good a police chief as he was? The only thing he’d ever told me about the years he’d spent away from Crystal Cove was his tragic story about losing his partner in the line of duty. It was obviously a painful subject so I would never bring it up again and neither would he. Especially if we never got together to talk about anything but a local murder.
    Sam’s office was small and sparsely furnished, but his desk was large, with stacks of files off to one side. His window was open and the cool air that wafted in smelled as fresh as the ocean. He waved at the chair opposite the desk. I sat, but he didn’t.
    Instead he leaned against the wall that was painted utility gray and covered with awards and diplomas and pictures of policemen looking proud and serious. He crossed one leg over the other. After a half dozen interviews he looked totally at ease and at home except for telltale worry lines between his eyebrows. He hadn’t returned to quiet Crystal Cove to solve murders, but this one had landed square in his lap. Was he worried about his ability to solve it? If so, he never let on. I have to add that Sam, whether worried or not, is more gorgeous than any policeman had a right to be. Since this was his office, I guess his looking at home there shouldn’t be surprising. I wondered if he’d learned anything important in the past half hour, like who he suspected of killing the up-tight, super-critical food critic. If he had, I’d be the last to know.
    “Go ahead,” I said, instantly jettisoning my plan to keep quiet. “I know what comes next. You’ll ask me where I was at such and such a time. Whenever Mr. Barr was killed.”
    “I don’t have a time frame, but if you’d like to tell me where you were this afternoon, I’m all ears.”
    “In my