Pecan Pies and Homicides Read Free Page B

shop’s customers gaped at Mr. Crump, but by the time he’d reached the third stanza, their gazes had turned wistful and several of them swayed in their chairs.
    And then, a woman who’d been sitting alone near the rotating display case slowly rose to her feet and added her soft, sweet soprano to Mr. Crump’s rich baritone. Together, they sang. The words soared through the pie shop like graceful birds, casting a spell over everyone in the room.
    Hail to the blue green grassy hills;
    Hail to the great peaked hummocky mountains;
    Hail to the forests, hail to all there,
    Content I would live there forever.
    When the song was finished, Ella Mae and her patrons clapped heartily and someone cried, “I’d like what he had for dessert!”
    The request was taken up by all of her customers.
    â€œYou’d best get back in the kitchen, girl,” Reba said with a sly wink. “Keep on singin’ folks,” she announced gaily. “A slice of Red Hot Apple Pie in exchange for a song.”
    As Ella Mae hurried through the swing door, she heard the organist from the Methodist church sing the opening line of the hymn “Another Year Is Dawning.”
    Surrounded by music and warmth, Ella Mae began rolling out dough.
    Two hours later, she peeked into the dining room and was surprised to see that none of her customers had left. Some had changed seats to chat with other diners, and the organist and the town florist were playing cards with Mr. Crump, but every person was still there. The room had grown loud. Gone was the subdued lunchtime murmur, replaced by story swapping and raucous laughter.
    â€œHas a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Reba asked, looking smug.
    Nodding, Ella Mae reached for the tray of dirty dishes Reba had set on the counter. “Okay, you’re right. I’ve been moping far too long. My mother wouldn’t want that. She’d want to see what I’m seeing: the people of her community coming together to share a meal, a song, and a laugh.”
    â€œLike I said before, anythin’ is possible,” Reba said gently as the two women returned to the kitchen. “Break your mama’s spell. Yes. But don’t forget to weave a few of your own. Speakin’ of that subject, Suzy Bacchus just came in. She looks like a kid waitin’ to ride the Ferris wheel. She’s so antsy that I couldn’t even get her to sit down. Want me to send her back?”
    Ella Mae, who’d been busy loading cutlery into the dishwasher, froze. “Please. And can you ask her to bring me a cup of coffee? The day feels like it’s lasting forever. Not that I mind. I’m thrilled with what’s happening in that dining room. I just need a jolt of caffeine before I clean the kitchen.”
    â€œSure, I’ll let Suzy play waitress. But I’m not sharin’ my tips,” Reba teased and then vanished through the swing door.
    Suzy Bacchus owned Havenwood’s book and gift store, an eclectic shop called the Cubbyhole. Like Ella Mae, she had special abilities. Suzy had a photographic memory. Despite the fact that her mind was a storehouse of knowledge, she was humble, bubbly, and fun. Whenever she entered a room, she immediately filled it with positive energy. When she breezed into The Charmed Pie Shoppe’s kitchen, Ella Mae felt as if the lights shone a little brighter.
    â€œI have big news!” Suzy said, setting a coffee mug on the wooden worktable. She yanked off her fuchsia hat and a pair of hand-knitted mittens and tossed the accessories on top of a crate of potatoes.
    â€œI’m all ears.”
    After pushing back a lock of light brown hair from her cheek, Suzy took a deep breath and said, “I know we’ve spent the past few months poring over any and all references to the Flower of Life in hopes that it would free your mom. We started at the beginning by researching the Gilgamesh legend. That story described the original