The Disappearing Pie
by Kevin Hopson
“Can I get you anything else?” Jenny said.
Mitchell swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and met Jenny’s gaze. “Maybe a piece of apple pie.”
She winked. “You got it.”
Jenny’s blonde ponytail twirled through the air as she spun around to fetch Mitchell’s pie. But she stopped and pivoted, turning to face him again.
“Speaking of pie,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Slices of pie have gone missing lately. Since you’re a detective, I was wondering if you have any insight.”
Mitchell arched a brow. “Insight?”
“Yeah. You know. Maybe some pointers to help me solve the mystery.”
Mitchell took a moment to ponder. “Have you noticed any patterns?”
“Like what?”
“Is there a particular kind of pie that goes missing? Also, is there a specific day, or time of day, when it tends to occur?”
Jenny mulled it over, eventually shaking her head. “It’s been a variety of pies, and the timing seems to be random.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But now that I think about it, Benjamin Fisher always seems to be around when it happens, and he’s sitting at the counter right now.”
“You think he’s sneaking a piece whenever he comes in?”
Jenny shrugged. “He doesn’t seem the type. He’s a friendly guy and a very generous tipper. But maybe you could ask him.”
“Me?”
Jenny nodded. “Come on, Mr. Detective. Do this for me, and your apple pie is free.” She chuckled. “Hey, that rhymed.”
“Funny.” Mitchell let out a breath. “Alright. But I can’t guarantee I’ll get any answers for you.”
“Fair enough. All I’m asking is that you try.”
Mitchell eased out of the window booth and stood, making his way to the counter. Benjamin was a lanky guy with dark hair, and Mitchell sidled up to him.
“Hi there, Benjamin,” Mitchell said.
Benjamin turned on his stool. “Mitchell. How are you?”
“Not bad, but I’m curious about something.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you much of a pie eater?”
Benjamin’s brow furrowed.
“I ordered a slice of apple,” Mitchell said, “so I’m just wondering if it’s worth it.”
Benjamin shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been a big fan of pie. But Mary was.”
“Your wife?”
“Uh-huh.”
Mitchell swallowed. “I was sorry to hear that she passed.”
“Yeah, but she’s still here in spirit. She has to have her pie after all.”
Movement in Mitchell’s peripheral stole his attention, and he glimpsed the counter. He watched as the glass lid of a dessert stand hovered in the air, a slice of apple pie floating away. Mitchell’s eyes bulged, and his mouth hung ajar.
“See,” Benjamin said. “No one would believe me if I told them. That’s why I always leave a big tip. Someone’s got to pay for Mary’s pie.”
Kevin’s work has appeared in a variety of anthologies, magazines, and e-zines, and he enjoys writing in multiple genres.