Read Never Say Pie (A Pie Shop Mystery) for Free Online

got a whole line of meat.”
    But his brother shook his head. “The guy will never come. He’s made up his mind.”
    “Who is this Barr anyway?” said Jacques. “Where does he get off bad-mouthing the cheese I sell? I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about. He’s a fraud. I say let’s expose him.”
    I smothered a smile. Of all people to call someone a fraud, it had to be Jacques. Away from his cheese booth he sounded completely American. But put him in a sales booth with a decent Camembert in front of him and suddenly he sounded positively Parisian. He even looked the part tonight with his spiky haircut and his slim-cut linen jacket. All he needed was a beret.
    “I haven’t seen him,” I said, “but some of you did. I only talked to him on the phone. I asked him to give me another chance and he said he’d come by the shop. That was Monday and I still haven’t seen him. But then he said he’d be in disguise like a real food critic so I couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes,” I said. “So if he was wearing a mailman uniform or dressed like my dairy supplier maybe I missed him.” I didn’t mention the pie contest. I hated to give Heath credit for the idea, especially if it worked.
    “I don’t think so,” said Martha, the chicken seller wearing stretch pants and a sweater. It gets cool at night even in the middle of summer along the coast, fog or no fog. We don’t have balmy summer evenings like other parts of the country so everyone was dressed warmly. “I think he’s a chicken. Which is an insult to my birds. What I mean is that he’s afraid of us. He hides behind his byline but he’s scared to meet us face to face since he’s dumped on us in his article. Otherwise why isn’t he here? I challenged him to meet with us tonight, and I invited him to visit my ranch. You all are invited too,” she said. “You’ll never buy a chicken from anyone else once you see how ours are raised. But where is our critic? Why won’t he stand by his words?”
    “Right on,” Lindsey said. “I told him about this meeting too.” She turned to me. “Hope you don’t mind, Hanna. I thought it was only fair. So if he had any guts he’d be here.”
    There was a moment of silence while everyone turned and looked at the door. Nothing. No one. A second later there was a loud knock.
    I swallowed over a hard lump in my throat. There was a communal gasp. Had Heath Barr answered the summons? We were all pretty brave without him around, but if he actually walked in now would we really tell him what we thought? That he was all talk, he had no taste, he didn’t deserve to be a food critic and so forth and so on. Or would we politely ask him for his credentials, if he didn’t mind, and tell him we hoped he’d come back Saturday and give us another chance? Or …
    The knocking was louder and more insistent. I went to the door. Technically I closed at six, so it couldn’t be a customer at this hour. I yanked the door open. Sam was standing there looking grim. As I said, he’s not ever Mr. Smiley, but he looked especially stern tonight.
    “Oh, hi Sam,” I said. “I hope nothing’s wrong. Has one of my fellow food vendors violated an ordinance by parking on the wrong side of the street or did someone leave their parking lights on? If there’s been an infraction, hand me the ticket, I’ll take care of it. Sorry to bother you when you’re off duty. We’re just having a little business meeting.” I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, which caused me to run on that way. I hoped it wasn’t an official visit.
    “Who’s we?” he asked.
    “We’re all food vendors.”
    He held up a folded newspaper. “Would they be the same vendors that Mr. Barr criticized in his column.”
    “Some of them are. We’re just exercising our right to peacefully assemble under the first amendment. Nothing wrong with that.” My nerves were on edge and Sam’s long silence didn’t help to calm me down. What did he want