Harold gave me a hopeful look. "If we bring the pan back, will you bake us another one?"
Emeril glared at him. "That's rude. You can't ask somebody to make you a pie, it has to come from the kindness of her heart. Right, Tess?"
He beamed at me, and I had the feeling I was being played.
"Exactly right, Misters Peterson. But I have a feeling you'll be able to get plenty of pie this weekend."
They flashed identical smiles.
"Festival pie is some pretty great pie," Harold said. "We'll be in the parade too."
They returned to their lunches, and I watched Jack making a pyramid out of butter packets for a moment, and then I remembered.
"My suspect," I whispered. "I forgot to tell you about him."
Jack raised an eyebrow. I quietly filled him in on Mrs. Nash and the peppermints.
He leaned back in his chair and gave me a skeptical look. "Nash? The pastor?"
"Quiet," I hissed.
He lowered his voice to a murmur. "Tess, lots of people like peppermint candy. Trust me, as someone who hates the smell, I am well aware. I can't really see Pastor Nash hanging out in your back yard, let alone cutting body parts off people."
I sighed. "I know, it sounds absurd. But then I was thinking about the nuns—"
"What nuns?"
I explained about the horror movie nuns.
Jack's grin broadened. "I think we're safe from possessed nuns, Tess."
When he said it likethat, sure.
"But we should at least check him out. The real culprit is usually the last person you'd expect it to be," I told him, just before Lorraine returned with our glasses of water and lemonade.
Jack mouthed the wordculpritat me, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh, but I ignored him. You never knew about a person. Until I had proof that Pastor Nash was not involved, he was staying on my list.
"Special is double cheeseburgers with fries or onion rings," Lorraine said. "How many do you want?"
This was directed at Jack.
"Three with fries, two with onion rings," he said. "I only had a donut or two for breakfast."
"Or twelve, probably," I muttered. "Lorraine, I'll have a salad. Too many donuts lately. My jeans are getting tight."
"Not that I could tell," Jack said with a lazy grin.
My face heated up again, and Lorraine laughed.
"You will not have a salad, all we have is day-old iceberg lettuce. I'll throw an extra pickle on your burger, and you can consider that to be a vegetable. Fries or onion rings?"
I sighed. "Fries. Thanks, Lorraine. Oh, by the way, I hear you're going to goat yoga with me and Eleanor this evening."
She grinned at me. "Yep. You know me. I love watching those goats do yoga."
After she'd left to take our orders to the kitchen, Jack tapped his long fingers on the table. "Whatever you're up to, it has nothing to do with goats or yoga, does it?"
I have a teensy problem. I can't lie worth a darn. Everything shows up on my face. I'd be a lousy poker player.
