Case of the Purloined Pie

The building passes as a nursing home where I pass as the maintenance guy. I see it for what it is. It’s a city full of intrigue and deception. It’s a city full of tasty treats and donated baked goods. It’s a city and I’m its protector. I’m Charlie Melton, Dessert Detective.

I’m making a chain of paper clips when she walks into my life. She has fiery red hair and dangerous shoes. Shoes that could sprain a girls’ ankle and sprain a guys’ soul. Shoes that make good girls go bad.  I lean back in the chair and put my feet on the desk. She strolls in the office and looks me in the eye. “Why are you in my office? Get to work.” she growls.

I stand up and ease past her. “The kitchen is missing a blackberry pie. It’s for a fundraiser. Do you know anything about it?” she breaths in her best big girl voice.

“A missing pie, eh? I’ll take your case. I get $100 a day plus expenses.” She slams the door. That dame is playing it hard. I’ll find her pie. I’d find her pie and finish the paper clip chain. The case will be solved by me,  the Dessert Detective.

I pull my cap low over my eyes to fight the glare of the dining room lights. Making sure I’m not being followed, I stroll over to the nurses’ station.  I take a seat next to the brunette bombshell writing secret nurse words in an official looking book. Maybe she knows something. Maybe she saw something. Maybe she has cookies.

“What about the pie, sugar cakes? Have you seen a missing pie?”

She turns and looks at me with big brown eyes; eyes that are like pools of hot fudge waiting for a bowl of ice cream. “I’m charting”, she said. “I don’t have time.” She seems scared or really irritated at being interrupted. This case is getting deep.

I give her my card and instructions to call if she remembers anything or gets any cookies. I glance at my watch and see it’s time. It’s time to go to lunch and take a quick nap. I stroll through the door and out of her life forever, or maybe an hour.

I come back in the building with a full belly and red eyes from a nap haunted by images of disappearing pies and irate nurses. I come into paradise gone wrong. I come into a room full of guilt.

The room is full. Everyone is seated at tables and looking down in shame at undecipherable coded cards. They know something, and they’re ashamed. Maybe they’re afraid. One guilt ridden pie purloining suspect is standing. I march over and turn on the drill sergeant voice. “Where’s the pie? You know something.” 

She can’t even look me in the eye. “B-11”, she says. “B-11” It’s some kind of nefarious code. What does it mean? “N-42”, she says. I fade back to think. I’m not getting anything out of this crowd. They’re too afraid, or ashamed. Maybe they’re bored, I don’t know.

I walk around, thinking. I think about who has motive to steal a pie. Who has opportunity? Who has change for a five so I can get a soda?

I go to my maintenance shop to search for change and there it is. It’s the smoking gun. It’s the gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s the payday. On the desk is an empty pie plate with crumbs and a partial blackberry. Then I remember.

I ate it. I thought they brought it for me. Darn this senior forgetfulness. Darn it to heck.

I quickly cheer up. I solved my case. I got my man, even if it was me. I earned my fee. I’m still good, very good.

Tune in next time for;”Dessert Detective, The Great Cake Caper.”