Pies Before Guys by Kirsten Weiss

Author:Kirsten Weiss [Weiss, Kirsten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781496723536
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

I spent the next morning trying not to think about Aidan, dead. So of course, that was all I could think about. Not even serving pie helped. The sight of Doran through the order window, walking into the restaurant, didn’t even lift my spirits.

My brother passed the rapidly filling tables and pushed through the Dutch door. I extracted my head from the order window and turned toward the kitchen door.

“I’ve got someone.” A black-clad Doran strode past Charlene, sitting on a barstool that braced open the door.

Trailing behind him was a young African American woman with cheekbones to die for and an impressive Afro.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, wait!”

The young woman froze, her eyes widening. What looked like a vintage sixties scarf was knotted around her neck, and she wore an army-green safari jacket.

“Sorry,” I said, pointing to my own hairnet. “It’s just, the both of you, we’re a commercial kitchen.”

I scowled at the hairnet-free Charlene, Frederick draped over one shoulder. The white cat was banned from the kitchen, but Charlene’s toes were just outside the door.

“But Angie used to work for Starke,” Doran said.

I frowned harder. If anything, Aidan’s murder last night had made me both more determined to investigate and to keep my little brother out of it.

Gordon hadn’t been thrilled to find us at another crime scene last night. Fortunately, Graham had heard the crash of the glass door breaking. He’d confirmed that Charlene and I had arrived well after that. Not that Gordon would consider us suspects, but he had to report to Chief Shaw.

Charlene angled her head toward the hallway. “Let’s go into my office.”

My office, but I didn’t argue, shepherding Doran and the newcomer toward my inner sanctum. I paused in the short hall to peek into the dining area. It was a sunny Friday afternoon, and the restaurant was getting crowded. I followed them into my office.

Angie’s gaze traversed the office. Metal shelves. Uninspired linoleum. A slightly tilting chair in front of the battered metal desk. Charlene and Frederick. The corners of Angie’s mouth turned down. “Should a cat be in a commercial kitchen?”

“He wasn’t in it,” Charlene said loftily. “He was outside it.”

I peeled off my disposable gloves and stuck out my hand. “Frederick’s got narcolepsy and needs special care. I’m Val.”

Warily, she shook it, her grip firm. “Angie.”

“She was Professor Starke’s first teaching assistant.” Doran sat against the desk. “Four years ago.”

“We’re investigating his death,” Charlene said.

“No,” I said quickly. “Not investigating. That would be illegal without a private investigator’s license.”

“Then what?” Angie asked.

Doran snorted. “They’re just nosy.”

“You weren’t so fussy earlier, kid.” Charlene slammed the door behind her, and the veterans calendar fluttered to the floor.

Frederick looked up, his white ears flicking, then settled his head back on her shoulder.

My piecrust specialist’s nostrils flared. “We’ve solved multiple homicides.”

“Multiple?” Angie asked skeptically. “How many is multiple?”

Charlene touched her gnarled fingers together, her lips moving silently. “Does it count if it’s the same killer?”

“Yes,” Angie said.

“Let’s stay on Starke,” I said. “You say you worked for him four years ago?”

Angie nodded, her hoop earrings swinging.

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