Never Say Pie (A Pie Shop Mystery) by Carol Culver

I thought people would want something small and savory to munch on as they strolled the market on a warm sunny Saturday. It’s always good to introduce the locals to different tastes as well as the old reliable standards like the pies I’d told Sam about. I’d see how business was tomorrow and then make any adjustments to my menu for next week.
    I wondered if anyone but us vendors knew about Heath’s demise. Whoever knew, whoever didn’t know and didn’t care … we’d all be back at the fair, one week after we’d been soundly bashed by the critic. The good thing was we had no need to be afraid of being criticized by him ever again. As for myself, I could kiss my pie contest good-bye now that Heath was out of the picture. As far as I knew, the Gazette had never had a food critic in the past and maybe would never have one again. I wished I knew who to credit for the loss of his presence. Not that I approve of murder. But I wasn’t crying buckets over it either. Maybe if I’d met the man I’d feel sorrier that he was dead.
    The next morning I arrived early at the fair after a restless night. I didn’t sleep well. Maybe because I was not only worried about a killer on the loose, I was even more worried about being mistaken for that killer. By the chief of police of all people. I dressed in layers, a pair of cut-off denim shorts then some stretch pants, a tank top covered with an oversized sweater which felt good at eight this morning, but by noon would be way too heavy. Then I packed my station wagon to the brim with pies, along with my portable cooler. The awning and the structure of the booth would be set up by the fair work crew. All I had to do was arrange my pies and sell them.
    My stalwart student worker Manda arrived at the fair shortly after I did and after we set up and unpacked the pies, I took advantage of her presence to walk around before the opening bell.
    I loved that time of day. Sellers were unloading their trucks and vans as the sun was just warming the pavement of the school parking lot. The fresh-picked leafy green vegetables looked crisp and succulent. The corn in green husks was piled high, waiting to be shucked. Strawberries, peaches, and nectarines were at their prime, oozing juice and sweet flavor. Everything was so calm and peaceful it was hard to imagine anything bad happening around here. In fact, I couldn’t help thinking positively. Something good was bound to happen. Sam would catch the murderer. It would be a stranger, an outsider. No one we knew. Why would a stranger kill Heath Barr? I had no answer for that. But when we found out we would all be relieved and grateful to our police chief. I would sell all my pies.
    I was dying to talk to my fellow vendors to find out what happened when they met with Sam the night before. After their interviews they’d each taken off without saying much and looking shaken. I hoped they too would be feeling more upbeat today.
    But it didn’t look promising. As the sun rose and the booths opened, none of my new friends seemed willing to talk to me. What had Sam done to them? Threatened them with arrest if they got in touch with me or each other? Warned them that I was a problem? Told them I was trouble with a capital T? Or was it just my imagination?
    First I dashed across the aisle to approach Lurline, who said she was too busy to talk. She did give me a lemon coconut cupcake though. Maybe that was to divert me, or to buy me off. If I could be bought off, cupcakes were the way to do it. I said I’d see her later and walked back to my pies licking the frosting off my lips. And wondering. Was it just my own anxiety or was Lurline acting strange?
    Later when I had a chance for a brief break, I dropped by the sausage booth. Bill said he was short-handed. Dave couldn’t make it and he was all by himself. I murmured something sympathetic and he told me again I should come by to see their ranch. “You can’t appreciate our pork products until you see how