A Good Day to Pie by Misha Popp

Author:Misha Popp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Twenty-Five

On Sunday morning, it feels wrong to gather at the top of the stairs for our entrance shots, and not just because this was supposed to be our day off.

Abigail addressed us all at dinner last night with a less-than-rousing speech about how the best way to honor Bryan’s memory was to get back in the kitchen. No one commented that it was the same line she used after Chloe died, but if I noticed it, I bet others did too.

Now there’s a somberness to our dwindled group that keeps us quiet, worse than the uneasy air that followed the loss of Chloe on that first day. It’s not that Bryan’s death matters more; it’s that circumstances are so irrevocably different now.

Aside from Nell and me, none of the other bakers saw Chloe, so it was easy to believe she really did succumb to a tragic accident. Even I could almost convince myself it was true, but with two deaths and a police presence, that’s no longer an option.

As we wait for Natalie to arrive with the cameras, the interviews swirl around my head, just as they did all night. Tony sits on an upper step by himself, eyes fixed at a point between his knees, fingers tapping the same rhythm I witnessed yesterday, each finger touching his thumb in a fluid cascade.

He’s the first one I would’ve been digging into last night had I been home with my laptop. If the cop was right and Tony really has been convicted of something, a simple Google search would probably give me an answer, but if not, the PI databases I subscribe to would.

The accusation feels off, though, because surely FoodTV wouldn’t cast convicted felons on a baking show. It has to violate some kind of liability or insurance thing.

I silently curse myself, realizing I’m jumping from convicted felon straight to irredeemable psychopath, and I know better. I know because for all intents and purposes, I’m a serial killer and I’m still here, and I know because Frank has hired several ex-cons, including one of his last dishwashers, who was able to use the experience and glowing reference to move into a higher-paying position.

Next to me, Nell picks at the edge of her apron, and I lean into her, just to let her know I’m there.

“This is not the fun time I signed up for,” Freddie announces from his spot on the landing. “I still think we should’ve had a proper Irish wake last night and got tanked.”

“You’re not even Irish,” Courchesne points out.

“I can be in spirit.”

“I feel hungover and didn’t even drink anything,” Nell says quietly. “I hardly slept.”

“It’s the stress,” I say, because I feel it too. I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through everything I had heard and everything I still needed to learn.

Poor Julian definitely had his work cut out for him this morning.

Footsteps sound above me, and I turn to see Grant settle himself against the wall, the last to arrive.

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