“If he was poisoned I’m sure it came from elsewhere,” Nick said.
But even as he uttered those reassuring words the sheriff’s car pulled up in front of the house with a state police car right behind it. Sheriff Pike came onto the porch and spoke the dire words. “Sorry to bother you again, Maggie, but we’re going to have to take you in for further questioning. The preliminary lab report indicates the poison was in your pie, though they haven’t determined the source of it yet.”
“That’s impossible! I didn’t poison Len, and I was alone here when I baked it. After it cooled I sealed it in its plastic box. It wasn’t opened till Beth cut the slices for judging this morning, and she did that before a roomful of people.”
The sheriff tried to calm her. “No one’s saying it was deliberate, Maggie. Maybe some drain cleaner accidentally spilled into your filling.”
“No!” she insisted. “No, no, no! Why would I kill him when he gave me the blue ribbon last year and again this year?”
“You didn’t know you’d be winning again,” the sheriff pointed out. “Maybe you thought he’d give the ribbon to Rita.”
Wayne Oates tried to intervene. “If Maggie leaves this house, I’m going with her. You’ll have to lock me up, too.”
“The state cops just have some more questions, Maggie. You’ll have to come along.”
Nick watched them lead her away, with Wayne following behind. “There goes your chance of getting another pie,” Gloria said.
The following morning it was announced that Maggie Oates was being held without bail and the case would be referred to the grand jury for possible indictment. Nick was finished in Clydestown. He had failed an assignment for the first time in his career. The prize pie was being dissected in a police lab and the only person who might duplicate it was behind bars. Nick and Gloria checked out of their motel and headed home.
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” Gloria said, trying to comfort him. “There was nothing you could do.”
As they headed out of town he could see the top of the Ferris wheel and the tents for the fair. A truck came out of the road ahead with two prize cows in the back, their blue ribbons proudly displayed. “Cows, Nicky. Moo!”
“Are you trying to cheer me up?”
“I was reminding you of the notes in the baker’s appointment book. Remember?”
“I remember,” Nick replied after just a moment’s silence. He made a quick U-turn on the nearly deserted road. “We’re going back.”
“Back where?”
“To the sheriff’s office.”
They arrived within minutes and he parked behind the sheriff’s car. “What are you trying to do?” she asked.
“Deliver the winning pie to Milo Marx. And the only way I can do it is by getting Maggie Oates out of jail.”
“You’re not planning a jail break!”
“No, I’m planning to convince them that she didn’t poison Len Fine.”
They found Beth Buckley and Rita Wadsworth in the waiting room. “The sheriff and county prosecutor are taking statements from everyone,” Beth explained. “They’ve got Maggie’s husband in there now.”
Nick strode forward and knocked on the door. An angry Sheriff Pike opened it. “We’re not to be disturbed. What are you doing here, Nicholas?”
“I have important information regarding Leonard Fine’s death, Sheriff.”
“Just wait out there till we’re finished with Mr. Oates.”
“It can’t wait,” Nick said, forcing his way into the room. The county prosecutor half rose from his chair, looking startled, and Wayne Oates merely seemed puzzled.
Nick dropped Leonard Fine’s journal on the sheriff’s desk. “I accidentally picked this up along with my papers after Fine’s collapse. When I realized what it was, I had to return it right away.”
“Accidentally,” the prosecutor repeated, but Nick ignored him.
He flipped open the book to the daily appointments section and pointed to the series of MOO notations. “Do you have any notion as to what these mean?” he asked, holding the book for Wayne Oates to see.
“Not the slightest.”
“That’s odd, since they’re your wife’s initials. She happened to mention that her mother’s name was Oliver. She’s Maggie Oliver Oates.”
The sheriff and the prosecutor were both out of their chairs, crowding around for a look at the book. “What’s this mean, Wayne?” Sheriff Pike asked.
“I don’t know.”
But Nick had an explanation. “It means that Len Fine and your wife were meeting regularly, every week or ten days. Can you think of any reason for those meetings?”
Wayne Oates moistened his lips. “No.”
“Since you had no knowledge of these meetings, is it safe to say they were clandestine in nature?”
That brought Wayne out of his chair, too. “Listen, if you’re implying my wife and Fine were lovers, you’re—”
“That’s exactly what I’m implying. And somehow you found out about it.”
Sheriff Pike stepped between them. “Let’s everyone calm down and be seated. If Maggie and Len were having a secret relationship, maybe he broke it off. Maybe that’s why she poisoned him.”
“Would she have poisoned her own pie, Sheriff, knowing it would make her the number-one suspect? And would Fine have used his dying breath to declare her the winner if they’d broken off their relationship?”
Sheriff Pike was shaking his head. “Then you tell me, Mr. Nicholas, who else could possibly have poisoned that pie? The testimony shows that Maggie was alone when she baked it, and sealed it in a box as soon as it was cool. She delivered it to Beth Buckley at the fair. Beth opened the pies and cut slices for judging in full view of the spectators. There was no chance for her or anyone else to have poisoned it.”
“You’re forgetting the matter of motive,” Nick said. “If Maggie and Fine were having an affair, there’s one other person with a motive for killing him — and who wouldn’t be too upset if Maggie got blamed for it.”
“Look here!” Wayne said, out of his chair again. “I didn’t kill anybody! There’s no way I could have poisoned that pie.”
“Ah, but there is,” Nick told them. “While the pie was cooling in the kitchen you went out there to get a knife to cut yourself a piece of the test pie, even though there was only one piece left. While you were out there with the pie it was a simple matter to poison it.”
“How?” Wayne demanded. “Tell me how! The pie was already baked, with its crust intact.”
“By injecting the poison into the pie with a hypodermic needle, through the air holes in the top crust. You’re a security guard at the hospital, with plenty of opportunity to obtain both the poison and the needles.”
That was the beginning of the end. By day’s end, Wayne Oates had made a full confession and Maggie had been freed. Nick and Gloria waited for her and drove her home. “I can’t thank you enough,” she told them. “You’ve saved my life. And Beth is awarding me the blue ribbon, even though Wayne poisoned my pie. If there’s anything I can do to repay you—”
“There is one thing,” Nick told her with a smile. “You could bake us one of those prize-winning pies.”
DeKok and the Death of a Rottweiler
by Baantjer
© 1996 by Uitgeverij De Fontein, Baarn, Netherlands. From De Cock en een hamerslag by Baantjer (Albert Cornelis), English translation ©2006 EQMM
The most popular author in the Netherlands, Baantjer has more than fifty novels in print featuring his series detective Inspector DeKok. A former inspector for the Amsterdam police himself, the author seems to spin many of his tales from commonplace events — if murder can ever be called such. The latest Baantjer title available in English is DeKok and Variations on Murder, which will be re-released in paperback in June 2006 by Speck Press.