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

here.” I watched out of the corner of my eye while he ate his pie. Something was going on. One, Sam eating pie. Two, Sam agreeing to go with me to visit a possible suspect. It wasn’t like him.
    I was feeling so pumped up I forgot not to mention the “M” word. “I know a murder in a small town or anywhere for that matter is a terrible thing, but doesn’t this one coming as it has give you a good reason for hanging on to your job?”
    “You’re referring to the fact that the city council wants to abolish my position.”
    I nodded. That’s what he’d told me. Many small towns had consolidated or farmed out their law enforcement because of budget shortfall. But if he had to solve a murder every few months, this town needed him.
    “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you of this murder,” I said.
    “What?” I was afraid he was going to fall off his chair.
    At least I had his attention. “You have the motive, which is that your job depends on having something to do like solving murders, and I’m guessing you don’t have an alibi for Friday afternoon. Am I right?”
    “As it happens I was in a conversation with one of my deputies in my office. Are you satisfied?” he asked. The look on his face was partly amused, partly amazed at the gall I had to even think such an outrageous thing.
    “If you ever need a new deputy, I’m available,” I said. “I don’t know what it involves exactly, but I like to think I could qualify.”
    He didn’t say anything for a long moment. For the second time today I’d surprised him. If I did nothing else today, I’d consider it a successful twenty-four hours. I decided not to wait for his reaction. “You said you were thinking of running for mayor,” I said. “What happened to that idea?”
    “I’m still looking into the possibility. The election is in the fall. I have an exploratory committee to check out the situation. I want to know who else is running. The good thing is our current do-nothing mayor is finally retiring. I can’t believe I’d have much competition, seeing as the salary is minimal. But I don’t want to run if I can’t win.”
    “On the other hand, how do you know if you can win if you don’t try?”
    “Good point,” he said.
    Again I had the feeling he was humoring me. It was better than being ignored, so I continued.
    “Who’s on your exploratory committee?”
    “Kate’s husband and a few other guys.”
    “What about a woman? What about me?” I don’t know what got into me, but as long as I didn’t get totally rejected, I decided to keep trying. What did I have to lose, except my reputation and a few sleepless nights of worrying?
    “I know a few people in town,” I told him. “People who buy pies. People who sell other stuff like Jacques, Lindsey and Tammy, and Nina who sells caramels. You remember her from high school. She married Marty Holloway. I meet a lot more people now that I’m at the market on Saturdays.”
    “You don’t want to spread yourself too thin,” he said as if he was my career counselor. “But I’ll check with my committee and let you know.” He stood as if he was ready to leave.
    “Let me call Kate about filling in for me one day this week so we can go to the pig farm.” I took my phone from my pocket afraid if I let him go without a definite commitment I might not see him for weeks. No one could say I wasn’t trying to keep in touch.
    But his phone rang and he pointed to the police station and walked across the street. Maybe that’s one reason Sam isn’t married, I thought. He’s never not on call. He’s always working, even when he’s not working. He doesn’t have a social life, or if he does no one knows about it.
    Like Heath, the food critic. No one seemed to know anything about him. Was he married to his job even though his job was a part-time writer for a small-town newspaper? If he was working for nothing, how did he support himself? Did he take kickbacks? Is that why he gave me and my