A Harvest Of Murder: A Pies and Pages Cozy Mystery Book 14 Read online

  Bert quickly filled her eager employee in on all the details. Meanwhile, she plated three slices of pie and set them all on the table. “Coffee?” she asked once she’d finished her tale.

  “Yes, please,” Shiv sounded off while taking a seat. “It feels good to sit down. I’ve been trying to stay busy all day organizing all the bookshelves.” She reached down and rubbed her sore calf.

  “Anyway, that’s the latest on the case,” Bert noted, walking over to the full coffee pot.

  “So, if it isn’t Karol, who could it be?” Shiv wondered.

  “It has to be Drake,” Carla added her thoughts on the matter.

  “Why do you think that?” the younger woman inquired, honestly interested in the reasoning.

  “He has a case just waiting for that saddle to show up. He has to be behind this whole thing.”

  Bert arrived at the table again with the coffee mugs in hand. “It’s true, that he has an empty case, but it isn’t hard evidence. We can’t prove anything with that.”

  “He has the money and the means. Why wouldn’t it be him?” Carla inquired.

  “What about that pocket watch that went missing? Whatever happened to that?” Shiv asked, thinking of other loose ends that hadn’t been added up.

  “That’s a good question.” Taking a seat, Bert danced her fingers along the handle of her own coffee mug.

  “Is it possible that two different thieves stole the saddle and the watch?” Shiv pointed out.

  “I assumed that whoever stole the watch came back later for the saddle as well, knowing they couldn’t make their getaway with both,” Carla pointed out, sipping from her mug.

  Bert did find it hard to believe that two different people were involved in all this unless they were both paid to steal the items for Drake or another interested collector. Then it hit her. “Hold on, didn’t Sybil say that there was little to no sign of a break-in at the museum?”

  Carla’s brow furrowed as she worked to remember. “Yeah, that’s right. In fact, she said there was no evidence of tampering on any of the locks at all.”

  Bert snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Maybe the watch never left the building.”

  “How do you mean?” Shiv wondered.

  “I mean, the thief came in during the museum’s regular business hours, took the watch, and hid it somewhere inside the building.”

  Carla gasped, setting down her mug and placing hands palm down on the table. Her face was white with realization. “In the pouch on the saddle.”

  Bert gave a firm nod. “Exactly. So, whoever stole the watch had plans to steal the saddle as well. They might not even have cared about the saddle, just the watch.”

  “Which would take Drake out of the running,” Shiv deduced.

  “Now, wait a minute. We can’t rule him out. I bet he wanted both and only got rid of the saddle because he was afraid we were on his trail,” Carla argued.

  Bert shook her head. “No, that doesn’t work. How would he have had time in between when we were at his house and when we arrived at Karol’s camper to plant the saddle? More than that, how would he know to plant it on Karol? As far as I understand, he doesn’t even know her, does he?”

  Carla twisted up her mouth in frustration. “You’re right. I don’t think he did know her.” Her shoulders slumped as she concluded that her perceived culprit was innocent. “But who could it be then? Certainly not Karol.”

  Tapping her fork on her plate, Bert glanced down at where she’d left her purse when they’d come in from the rain. It sat slumped on the floor rather than on its regular hook. The front of the purse sagged, revealing a corner of the book Sybil had given her.

  Suddenly, a light turned on in her head.

  Bert stood up from her seat, her pie untouched. Her sense of justice had taken over. “I have a good idea who it is. Shiv, can you call Harry and tell him to meet us?”

  “Sure thing, but where are you going?” she asked, also standing.

  “The museum.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What do you mean? You think it’s Sybil who is behind the whole thing?” Carla asked as they drove through the streets of the Old Market to the downtown area where the museum was located.

  “That’s right,” Bert confirmed, trying to navigate the watery streets.

  “But you saw how upset she was about Nan’s death. It looked like she’d been crying all morning.”

  “I agree that she was upset. I think that Nan dying wasn’t part of the original plan. I mean, I thought it was a bit strange how she threw herself right into work—filling out those insurance claims on the stolen items—right after the death.”

  “Some people just like to occupy themselves when something tragic happens. Isn’t it sort of a way of mourning?”

  “True, but maybe she was trying to forget that she’d accidentally killed her friend.”

  Carla snapped her fingers. “That’s right. They were friends. Why would she take advantage of her friend that way? I mean, isn’t stealing from the museum ensuring it will go under like she said?”

  Bert shook her head. “Maybe not. Perhaps her hope was that the insurance claims would help the place stay afloat after she’d skipped town.”

  Carla gasped. “Skipped town? You think she’s going to leave?”

  Bert glanced at her friend for a second and then turned her eyes back on the wet road. “I do. I think doing the insurance claims was the last thing she planned on doing before leaving. Of course, she probably originally planned the insurance money to go towards helping Nan keep the museum afloat.”

  “Why still do it, then?” Carla asked, obviously still a little lost.

  “Out of obligation? It was part of the plan and she was going to stick to it.”

  “Which means she is planning on skipping out of town today?”

  “She may already be gone, but I’m hoping we can catch her.” It was the main reason why she wasn’t going to leave it to the cops. If they didn’t get around to tracking her down right away, she could very well be up and gone before anyone realized what was happening.

  There was a pause as they neared the museum as if both were eagerly waiting—waiting to see if Bert was right and Sybil truly was behind this whole fiasco. If so, would she still be around? Would they be able to stall her until the police arrived?

  As before, most of the street parking was devoid of cars due to the rain. As Bert settled next to the curb, she saw the museum door open and a yellow umbrella unfurl. “That’s her, I think.”

  “She’s leaving right now?” Carla exclaimed.

  “We have to keep her here,” Bert insisted, jumping from the car without grabbing her own umbrella or even paying the parking meter. She proceeded to wave at the woman. “Sybil, I’m so glad I caught you,” she called, the rain already drenching her clothes.

  In an instant, the woman’s face turned a sickly pale. “I-I’m in a bit of a hurry. Sorry.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that book you wrote.” Bert began to ascend the steps toward the woman who was fumbling with her keys to lock the door. Her large purse was beginning to slip from her shoulder.

  “I told you I don’t have time right now,” she insisted, pulling her key back out and turning to walk down the steps.

  “Oh, watch out,” she warned as she saw the woman’s high heel beginning to slip on the wet concrete, but it was little use.

  With the purse weighing her down, she was even more unbalanced and went down. Her arms flew up, looking for something to grab. Luckily, they found a home on the metal railing, grabbing on and keeping Sybil from falling.

  However, the same couldn’t be said for her purse and umbrella. The latter went flying with the wind while the purse went tumbling down the steps, all its contents going this way and that. One thing caught Bert’s eye. A large black jewelry box bounced across the ground and ended at Carla’s feet.

  She reached down to pick it up.

  “Don’t touch that,” Sybil screamed.
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  Carla pulled it open to reveal the contents. Even in the gray and rainy afternoon, they could all see the gold diamond encrusted watch sparkling from inside. Carla’s jaw dropped wide open as she stared at it. Her gaze moved up to glare at Sybil. “It was you.”

  Without another word, the woman tossed off her high heels and made a run for it, her feet splashing through puddles and getting her nylons soaking wet.

  She didn’t make it very far, however, as a cop car pulled in at the end of the road. Sybil froze stiff as a statue when she realized she was caught. Her arms shot up in the air, surrendering herself to her own fate.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I still don’t understand why she would do it. Why steal from her place of work? From her friend?” Carla wondered out loud as she came out of Bert’s bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. She was dressed in a long pink robe, one of the extras the Bert had lying around the house.

  When they’d finally finished up with the police, they were both soaked through to the bone. Since Bert had driven, they opted to head to her apartment and change clothes. Thankfully, Bert and Carla were close to the same size.

  Bert stood in the kitchen, dressed in clean jeans and a sweater. She was also wearing her favorite fuzzy slippers that were in the shape of cheetahs. It felt nice and toasty after spending most of the day running around in the rain.

  Thankfully, due to the building being so old, there was a small fireplace in the apartment. It had been converted to gas at some point, but in any case, it was nice to have it going. It not only added warmth but also a cheeriness to the room.

  “I figured out it might be her when I saw the corner of her book sticking out of my purse.”

  Carla walked into the kitchen, getting out a teacup and a peppermint tea bag since she knew where her friend kept most of her things. “How did that tip you off? You’d looked at that book previously, hadn’t you?”

  “That’s true, but I wasn’t looking at it with the right mindset. She gave it to me before the murder. That’s when I took the closest look. However, after glancing at the cover and interior, I knew I wasn’t interested.”

  “So, what then?” she pressed, pouring hot water over the tea bag from the pot that Bert had just boiled.

  “I saw the name of the publishing company,” she declared proudly.

  Carla squinted her eyes, showing she was still confused.

  “She had self-published her book through a very pricey and less than dependable publishing company. I’ve talked to authors before who’ve been basically tricked and manipulated by that company.”

  Carla’s jaw dropped. “How did that tip you off?”

  “Well, first, Sybil seemed very intent on pushing her book on me, asking me right out of the gate how many copies I’d want to sell in my shop or at my booth. That was the first red flag.”

  “I see,” she agreed, starting to see. Walking to the small kitchen table, she sat with her steaming tea warming her hands.

  “To me, that says that the author already has a large stock of books on hand they’re trying to unload.”

  “How does the company take advantage of people, exactly?”

  “Well, a sales rep gets them all excited about the prospect of having their book published and in print. The writer gets interested, and then the person pitches them a package deal. They make the package sound awesome.”

  “But in reality, it’s not.”

  “Exactly. The package deal has a listing of how many books are going to be printed as part of the deal. One hundred, five hundred, a thousand, maybe more.”

  Carla held up a hand. “Let me guess, the contract states that the author has to purchase all of the books themselves.”

  “Yep. You hit it on the nose. They offer to design a cover and interior, then push the printing through, then they send the books to the author with the bill. The publisher doesn’t do any distribution or publicity at all.”

  “And the author is stuck with a huge bill.”

  “And my guess is that Sybil’s bill was large. It’s very possible that she’s put some of her own funds into the museum to help keep it afloat. It was common knowledge that the museum was struggling. It’s the whole reason they had the fair.”

  “So, she’s low on funds already, is thinking she is going to start making some extra money off her book, and then ends up with a huge unpayable bill instead.”

  “That’s my guess. Based on how eager she was to unload copies, I’d wager that she signed a contract for at least a few thousand books to be printed, if not more. She could end up owing anywhere between from ten to fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “And for someone who has already put so much money into their work, that’s a huge blow.”

  “It’s significant, yes. So, she plans to steal the items and sell them off to collectors for the cash, and then use the insurance money to cover the museum.”

  Carla’s jaw dropped. “Maybe she was planning on selling the saddle to Drake Panderson. Maybe that is why he had a glass case ready.”

  Bert nodded. “It’s possible.”

  A soft knock came on the back door, the one that led to the alleyway.

  “Oh, someone’s here. Let me go in the other room. I don’t want them to see me like this,” Carla squeaked, rushing into the bedroom.

  Bert chuckled and walked over to open it. “Harry, I didn’t expect you,” she said.

  “Hi, sorry I didn’t call ahead. Did you still want to grab a quick bite to eat with me before I have to get back to the station?”

  She smiled. “Are you sure you’re not too busy?”

  “I’ll need to get back as soon as I can, but I have time for a quick break.”

  “Is that Harry?” Carla called.

  “Yeah, he wants to get something to eat.”

  “Okay, I’ll just stay here then,” she noted.

  “By the way, ladies. You’ll be happy to know that Sybil Statesman has given a full confession. She practically spilled the beans while we were still driving her over to the station.”

  Carla’s head poked out. “So, Karol will be free to go?”

  “After some preliminary items and paperwork, I’d say so, yes.”

  “See? I told you she didn’t do it,” she said, disappearing back into the bedroom.

  Harry suppressed an irritated scowl. “Anyway, do you need to change or anything?”

  Bert peeked over Harry’s shoulder at the rain outside. “Actually, Harry. Do you mind if I just make you a sandwich?”

  “Why? You don’t want to go out?” he asked, a look of disappointment coming over his face.

  “Well, you see, I think I’ve had enough of getting soaked in the rain for one day.” She motioned to the living room. “Besides, we have a warm fire here.”

  Harry considered this and then nodded. “You don’t have to twist my arm. A sandwich sounds lovely.” Walking across the room, he held out his chilled hands to warm at the fireplace.

  Also by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Diner of the Dead Series

  Book 1: The Wicked Waffle

  Book 2: Battered and Buttered Waffle

  Book 3: Sinister Strawberry Waffle

  Book 4: The Wayward Waffle

  Book 5: Pumpkin Pie Waffle

  Book 6: Turkey and Terror

  Book 7: Creepy Christmas Waffle

  Book 8: Birthday Cake Waffle

  Book 9: Spooky Sweetheart Waffle

  Book 10: Eerie Irish Waffle

  Book 11: Savory Spring Waffle

  Book 12: Benedict Waffle

  Book 13: Scary Sausage Waffle

  Book 14: Murderous Mocha Waffle

  Book 15: Red Velvet Waffle

  Book 16: High Steaks Murder

  Book 17: Hole In One Waffle

  Book 18: Fireworks and Waffles

  Book 19: Games, Ghouls and Waffles

  Book 20: Waffling in Murder

  The Wicked Waffle Series

  Book 1:Hot Buttered Murder

>   Book 2: Bacon Caramel Murder

  Book 3: Thanksgiving Waffle Murder

  Book 4: Christmas Waffle Caper

  Book 5: Buckaroo Waffle Murder

  Book 6: Wedding Waffle Murder

  Book 7: Cactus Waffle Murder

  Book 8: Zombie Waffle Murder

  Book 9: A Very Catty Murder

  Pies and Pages Series

  Book 1: Killer Apple Pie

  Book 2: Killer Chocolate Pie

  Book 3: Killer Halloween Pie

  Book 4: Killer Thanksgiving Pie

  Book 5: Killer Christmas Pie

  Book 6: Killer Caramel Pie

  Book 7: Killer Cocoa Pie

  Book 8: Shamrock Pie Murder

  Book 9: Killer Easter Pie

  Book 10: Killer Cheesecake Tart

  Book 11: Summer Smore Murder

  Book 12: Maple Nut Murder

  Book 13: Tea, Thyme, and Murder

  Dead-End Drive-In Series

  Book 1: Sisterly Screams

  Book 2: Moans, Mummies and Murder

  Book 3: Blue Eyed Doll

  Book 4: Movies and Murder

  The Cracked Mirror Series

  Book 1: The Biker and The Boogeyman

  Author’s Note

  On the next page, you’ll find out how to access all of my books easily, as well as locate books by best-selling author, Summer Prescott. I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on – reader feedback is very important to me. Please see the following page for my publisher’s contact information. If you’d like to be on her list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc…just shoot her an email and let her know. Thanks for reading!

  Also…

  …if you’re looking for more great reads, from me and Summer, check out the Summer Prescott Publishing Book Catalog for some truly spooky stories.

  SPBP Book Catalog

  Contact Summer Prescott Books Publishing