A Beeline to Murder

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Whisk in the brown sugar, eggs, corn syrup, bourbon, and salt until well combined. Remove the saucepan from the heat. Fold in the whole pecans.

Pour the filling into the prepared pie crust. Sprinkle the chopped pecans over the filling and bake for 50 to 60 minutes on the middle rack of the oven. After 15 minutes, cover the pie with foil to prevent the crust and nuts from burning. Test for doneness by pushing a toothpick into the center to make sure the filling is set in the middle. Remove the pie from the oven and let it cool before serving.





Serves 4 to 6





Chapter 10


Boxed and jug wine are fine as long as you never drink or cook with a flawed wine.

—Henny Penny Farmette Almanac





Tucking the evidence envelope containing the earring found near Jean-Louis’s body into a pocket of her pea-green cropped pants, Abby held it there as she dashed across Main and darted into Village Rings & Things. Philippe walked briskly beside her, keeping pace despite the humongous piece of pie he’d just devoured. The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows of the store, glancing off the surfaces of glass cabinets, shimmering displays of gemstone jewelry, and shiny mirrors. The pleasing scent of cedarwood and citrus permeated the interior. On any other day, Abby would stroll straight to her favorite area, the marcasite display case . . . but not today. She wanted to interview owner Lidia Vittorio about that earring. . . and her timing seemed near perfect; there were no customers inside the store.

Lidia, emerging from behind a beaded curtain that only partially hid the back room where her husband, Oliver, did the cleaning and repair work, called out sweetly, “May I help you?” Standing next to the curtain and stroking the beads into stillness, she stared at Abby for a moment. “Why, Abigail Mackenzie, is it really you, dear? We’ve missed having you patrol our premises.”

Abby smiled. “I’ve missed seeing you.”

Lidia smoothed an imagined wrinkle from the black crepe dress enshrouding her petite frame. Her silver hair was swooped up tightly in a bun. She walked with the uprightness of a young tree, despite the osteoporosis that had forged a dowager’s hump over her upper back. After embracing Abby warmly, Lidia held her at arm’s length. “You look so healthy. I take it the police work is keeping you fit.”

“Well, I’m no longer with the police, although occasionally I do a little investigative work for the DA.”

“So that explains why you’re not in uniform.”

“True. I bought a farmette outside of town. It’s the farmwork that keeps me fit.”

“Well, nothing beats a homegrown tomato, dear.” With a sly wink at Philippe, Lidia touched the cuff of Abby’s shirt and added, “I’ve got a pair of Australian opal earrings with green pinfire streaks that would go beautifully with the color you are wearing.”

Abby chuckled. “I’m sure you do.”

Lidia turned her attention to Philippe. “You know, young man, I haven’t seen you around town lately, either.” She extended her hand to Philippe, who took her long, tapered fingers in his and bowed ever so slightly, evoking from Lidia a pale-lipped smile.

“Philippe Bonheur,” he said politely. “From New York. I am just visiting.”