Spies Lies and Chocolate Pies

  Spies, Lies and Chocolate Pies

  Copyright ©2022 Sally Berneathy.

  http://www.sallyberneathy.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental (except Fred and King Henry).

  Original cover art by Aurora Publicity https://www.aurorapublicity.com

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  Chapter One

  Fred kissed Sophie.

  Okay, it wasn’t a sizzling kiss that would steam up windows, but it was a kiss. On her lips. On a Sunday afternoon in broad daylight, in front of God and everybody as we were leaving the Pleasant Grove Karate Center where Sophie had tested for her yellow belt in Kenpo karate.

  The warm April sun shone brightly on the couple as if giving its approval.

  I stood for a moment, letting the crowd push past me as I watched to see if Fred would do something else...touch her face, smile at her invitingly, do something personal and romantic?

  He pushed his dark framed glasses higher on his nose and looked around.

  I sighed. Before today I had not totally believed Fred’s stories that he and Sophie were spending all those evenings together practicing karate. But today I saw her break that board with her hand...her small, perfectly manicured hand.

  I had hoped they were doing something besides practicing karate.

  Apparently not.

  I shoved through the crowd to get closer. “Sophie, you were amazing!”

  “I second that.” Detective Adam Trent came up behind me and placed a hand on my waist. He knew how to be romantic. Maybe he could give Fred some instructions.

  Sophie’s smile sparkled against her smooth olive skin. She gave me a hug then turned her smile on Fred. “This guy is a really good teacher.”

  Fred didn’t blush or grin or any of the things a normal man would do when confronted with such praise from a beautiful woman. “You were a good student.” An unembellished statement. Nothing flirtatious in his tone.

  What was wrong with the man?

  The adoration in Sophie’s dark eyes as she gazed at him told me she would like to do more than practice karate during those evenings with him.

  Did I need to have a talk with Fred about the birds and bees?

  At least he had kissed her. For someone as reserved as Fred, that was a beginning.

  Rickie shoved his way through the crowd. At eleven years old, he was already as tall as Sophie. He would be a tall man like his father. He beamed at Sophie. “You were really cool.” He also inherited his father’s scam artist ability.

  She beamed back and hugged him. She had always liked the kid even before he accidentally saved her life a few months ago. However, that isn’t really a testimony to Rickie’s character. Sophie likes everybody.

  Grace appeared behind Rickie, put a hand on her son’s shoulder and smiled at Sophie. “He’s right. You were great.” Grace’s hair was again red all the way to the roots, and her fingernails were scarlet. When her husband was murdered, Grace had stopped caring about such trivial things as hair and nail color. I was pleased to see signs she was recovering.

  “I hope you’re all coming to my house to celebrate,” Sophie said. “Lindsay made chocolate cupcakes and chocolate chip cookies for the occasion.”

  Fred draped an arm casually over her shoulders. It was casual, but it still qualified as an embrace. In a Fred sort of way.

  ***

  We all headed to Sophie’s house and reconvened in her living room. I was pleased to see Fred was already there. They must have ridden together.

  A kiss, an embrace, a drive together. Progress.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” Sophie invited. “I’ll get the champagne.” She exchanged a glance with Fred, and he followed her to the kitchen. That was all it took. A glance. They had some kind of silent communication going on. Good sign.

  “Nice place.” Trent’s words pulled me from my contemplation of the puzzle of Fred and Sophie.

  “It’s real pretty,” Grace said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “Sophie’s done a fantastic job. It was a mess when she bought it.”

  Sophie had turned the once-decrepit house into a home that should be featured in a magazine. The plush off-white sofa, colorful pillows and chairs in matching colors made the living room feel comfortable and welcoming. Sophie was an interior designer. A very successful one.

  From the spacious dining room, Paula—my best friend, next-door neighbor, and business partner at Death by Chocolate—gave me a thumbs up. She skipped the ceremony to come straight here and get the table set up with goodies.

  Her son, Zach, charged across the living room and threw himself at me. “Anlinny!”

  At four years of age, he’s perfectly capable of saying Aunt Lindsay, but he’s called me Anlinny since he first began to talk. I kind of like it.

  He’s adorable with his mother’s blond hair, blue eyes, and sweet disposition. Fortunately he seems to have inherited nothing from his father who is currently serving life in prison.

  I leaned over and scooped Zach up in a hug then set him down and groaned. “I think my back is broken! You’ve grown two inches and gained twenty pounds since I last saw you!”

  He giggled. “You’re silly, Anlinny. You saw me this morning.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  Rickie came over and punched Zach lightly on his shoulder. “Hey, kid. Want to go rob a QuikTrip?”

  “Yeah!”

  I grabbed Rickie by the neck of his t-shirt. “How about you go downstairs and watch TV instead?”

  He smiled his father’s smile. That was bad. His father, Rick, is a successful salesman/con artist. “Just kidding, Zach. Mom wants me to help Aunt Paula get everything ready.”

  Aunt Paula? She would not be happy to hear of her adoption into Rickie’s family. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. “How about both of you help her by going downstairs to watch TV and staying out of the way?”

  I moved past them into the dining room to be of some real help to Paula. Not that she needed any. The long oak table was covered with several varieties of hors d’oeuvres prepared by her and chocolate desserts prepared by me. Paula was arranging a display of napkins at one end. Stemmed crystal glasses and two regular glasses sat in perfectly spaced rows on the buffet. The symmetrical arrangement told me Fred had been there.

  “Looks great,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Paula replied. “Grab a glass for the champagne toast.”

  I selected a glass from the middle of the arrangement then moved the other glasses a few centimeters in different directions so they were in chaotic order. I wanted to see Fred have a meltdown.

  “How was the test?” Paula asked. “Was Sophie good?

  “She was amazing. I took a video so you can see it too.”

  A hand clasped my arm. “Lindsay...”

  I turned to see Grace blinking rapidly and
licking her lips. “Uh, Lindsay...”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled for less than a second. “Nothing. I need to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Is it okay if I invited somebody today, a friend?”

  Considering the kind of friends Grace had, it probably was not okay. “You need to ask Sophie. It’s her party.”

  “I did. She said it was okay with her if it was okay with you.”

  Of course Sophie would say it was okay. She was so easy going, she would let Wolfman and Dracula come. I shrugged. “It’s her party. If it’s okay with her, it’s okay with me.”

  Grace folded her hands and tried for the smile again. “It’s a guy. He just pulled up outside.”

  This explained Grace’s new interest in her appearance. It was good that she was moving on. The new guy had to be an improvement over Chuck who had been a drug dealer and a cheat, married to four other women. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  I knew my words were only a social nicety when I spoke them, but I didn’t realize I was telling a wildly outrageous lie.

  The doorbell rang.

  A cool breeze wafted in. Someone had responded, had opened the door to allow Grace’s new friend to enter.

  “What the hell?” Rickie had not gone downstairs as I requested.

  “What the hell?” Zach echoed.

  Grace spun around and headed toward the sound of the cursing.

  Paula’s face darkened at her son’s Rickie-enhanced vocabulary.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said.

  “Hey, Trent, how’s it going?”

  That voice.

  What the hell?

  I charged toward the living room, right behind Grace.

  She threw herself into Rick Kramer’s arms.

  Our mutual ex.

  Rickie’s father.

  I opened my mouth to speak then closed it again. I didn’t need to contribute to Zach’s vocabulary of curse words.

  Trent closed the door behind the new arrival. “Hey, Rick, I didn’t know you were coming today.”

  I fisted my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here, Rick?”

  He gave us his top salesman smile.

  Grace turned in his arms, beamed and blushed. “You said it was okay.”

  How wrong I’d been to think this new guy would be an improvement over Chuck. Grace and Rick had grown up together in Crappie Creek, and he’d left when she became pregnant with Rickie. Rick was a perennial cheater, liar, and all-around jerk.

  At exactly the right moment, seconds before the entire situation exploded in flames, Fred emerged from the kitchen carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and a two-liter bottle of Coke in the other. “Everybody grab a glass from the dining room, and we’ll toast Sophie’s success.”

  I already had a glass. I moved over to Fred and held it out.

  He poured from the champagne bottle.

  “You knew,” I said softly.

  “I know many things. Are you referring to any one thing in particular?”

  “Yes.” I glared at him. “You knew Rick was coming and you didn’t warn me.”

  “Sophie told me in the kitchen. I tried to send you a message by mental telepathy, but you must have turned yours off.”

  I gritted my teeth and tried to think of a sarcastic response. When that failed, I downed the contents of my glass in one gulp and held it out to Fred for a refill.

  He filled it with Coke.

  “Hey!”

  He turned to pour champagne for Grace and Rick.

  She smiled tentatively.

  I bared my teeth. It was the closest I could come to a smile under the circumstances.

  Fred set his bottles on the coffee table, Paula joined us, and we toasted Sophie’s successful karate test.

  I helped myself to a couple more glasses of champagne. Fred didn’t stop me. He also had a couple more. We needed the alcohol to deal with watching Rick and Grace acting like lovers. I had come to like Grace and feared getting back together with Rick would not lead to a happy outcome.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw someone lift the champagne bottle.

  Rickie.

  I took it away from him. “Not for another ten years.”

  “Come on, man. You see what my mom’s doing with that jerk!” He tilted his head toward the sofa where Grace and Rick sat close together, gazing into each other’s eyes, talking softly.

  “That jerk,” I said, “is your father.”

  Rickie sneered. “Sperm donor.”

  “Where did you learn that phrase?”

  “My mom. She said that jerk wouldn’t even admit I was his kid until Fred did that DNA test.”

  Fred cleared his throat.

  I waited for him to say something that would soothe Rickie.

  He only looked toward Sophie who stood across the room talking to Paula.

  As if she felt his gaze, Sophie turned to him then moved gracefully across the room. “Rickie, did you get one of those chocolate cupcakes? They’re really good, Lindsay.”

  Rickie’s surly expression relaxed. Sophie has that effect on people. “Yeah, I got one. It was okay.” Coming from Rickie, that passed for good manners and a compliment.

  Sophie laid a hand on his arm. “There are still some left. I’d love to have another one, but I don’t want to be the only one. Will you have another cupcake with me?”

  Rickie shrugged, gave a half-hearted sneer, then walked away with her.

  “How did she do that?” I asked Fred.

  “Magic.”

  The softness in his voice, the look in his eyes as he watched her...he was in love. He just needed my help realizing it and acting on it.

  The party ended early since most of us had to get up and go to work the next morning.

  And because most of us were tired of watching Grace and Rick. Last I’d heard, he had a girlfriend I actually liked, Robin, a doctor. But I always knew she’d get tired of him and kick him out eventually. She was too good for him.

  So was Grace.

  I left that party with two goals. (1) Get Fred and Sophie together, and (2) break Grace and Rick apart.

  ***

  King Henry, the cat who owns me and allows me to sleep in his bed, woke me at three a.m. He was on the floor, stretched to his full height, peering out the window to the street below, making jungle cat noises.

  I leapt out of bed and went to the window. He only does that when somebody he doesn’t like is on his property, somebody’s been murdered, or hostile aliens have landed. His yowling has never presaged anything good.

  A dark van drove down the street.

  Unusual for anyone to be driving down our quiet street at that time of the night, but not threatening.

  Henry turned his head in the direction of Fred’s house next door.

  I did the same. My cat knows things.

  A tall figure clad in white moved across Fred’s porch and down the walk. I could tell by the erect posture and determined strides that it was Fred even though the night was dark and moonless.

  Henry and Fred were not friends, but they tolerated each other. Henry didn’t usually get upset about Fred.

  What was Fred doing out at that hour? Sneaking over to Sophie’s house? They’re both single adults. He didn’t have to sneak.

  Henry growled deep in his throat.

  Fred did not cross the street toward Sophie’s house. He disappeared behind the large oak tree that grows close to the walk halfway between his house and mine.

  Henry added a snarl to his growls.

  Fred did not emerge from behind the tree.

  My heart froze.

  Was Fred in danger?

  Had somebody grabbed him? Knocked him down?

  Fred is a lot like Superman, but not completely. He can’t fly. At least, I’ve never seen him fly.

  And he might be more vulnerable than the man of
steel.

  “Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll save him.”

  I ran to my nightstand and took out the stun gun Fred gave me a few months ago. With Henry at my heels, I dashed downstairs, through the front door, over the porch, and down the walk to the tree where Fred disappeared.

  He looked up as I approached.

  A nearby streetlight bounced off his white pajamas creating a spotlight effect with Fred at the center. He appeared unfazed and unharmed.

  But the woman stuck to the tree with an arrow through her chest was harmed.

  I lifted a hand to my throat. “Is she dead?”

  “Yes.” Fred sounded sad. Calm, but sad.

  “Why is she stuck to your tree? Who is she?” Those were rhetorical questions. I didn’t expect an answer.

  “She’s my wife,” Fred replied in that same sad but calm voice. “I don’t think she’s going to make our lunch date today.”

  Chapter Two

  “Your wife?” Surely I had not heard him correctly. “You don’t have a wife.”

  “Obviously I don’t anymore. Did you bring your cell phone?”

  “My phone?” I’d just discovered Fred had a wife, a dead wife stuck to the tree with an arrow through her heart. “You want to make a phone call? Now?”

  “Yes. We need to call 911. Go back to your house and get your phone. I’ll stay here with Constance.”

  “Constance?” The body had a name. The wife had a name. Well, most wives did. “Why do you need to stay with her? I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”

  “If you had known Constance, you wouldn’t be so certain of that.”

  I forced myself to look at the woman. She was wearing a black bikini or maybe black underwear. Even in the dim light I could see scars on her stomach, her chest, her arms…most of her body. Her head lolled to one side, exposing a long scar down her right cheek and allowing her blond hair to trail limply along the bark of the tree. Her eyes were open and lifeless. I was fairly certain she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Nevertheless, escaping from the scene seemed a good idea for me. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll go home and call 911.”

  “Thank you.”

  I started back to my house but turned around and handed Fred my stun gun. “In case she...you know...tries to leave...or…something.”