The Death of Pie Read Online Free PDF Page A

careful to bite my tongue first before answering. I bit it hard. I have bitten it so many times over the years that there are permanent indentations into which various teeth now fit into rather neatly, and thus the pain is really minimal. As I bit, I counted to ten in English, Pennsylvania Dutch, Spanish, and French. One may rest assured, however, that my watery blue eyes remained focused on his face to let him know that he had stepped over the line. Finally, I cleared my throat, and hoped that whatever wattles I might have accrued over my forty-nine years were vibrating with authority.
    â€˜Young man, as I have explained to you at least a dozen times: I am not Amish, although my grandparents were. I am a Mennonite. I happen to be amongst the more liberal sort of my Old Order brethren. We Mennonites do not ride around in horse-drawn buggies. Having suitably rebuked you, allow me to remind you that I am indeed a kind and gentle person. Unless you have walked a mile in my size forty-four brogans with Sister Malaise as your mother-in-law, you are in no position to judge me.’
    â€˜Yes ma’am,’ Toy said, for apparently I had managed to stare him into a state of semi-submission. He tried slumping in his straight-back chair as if he were a teenager with a strand of spaghetti for a spine. Much to my secret amusement, the chair refused to cooperate and Hernia’s new Chief of Police slid off it and onto the floor.
    I glanced over at Granny, who had reappeared. For the first time ever, her perpetually downturned mouth was a straight line! Arguably, one corner might even have qualified as ‘slightly askew.’
    â€˜Moving right along,’ I said, looking at the list Toy had given me, ‘you have my best friend down as your number three suspect. Why is Agnes on your list?’
    â€˜Duh,’ Toy said, having regressed even further in my book for using that loathsome word, ‘Ramat made her out to be a total loser. It’s no wonder she can’t marry. I sure wouldn’t date her.’
    â€˜Well, of course you wouldn’t; you’re—’
    â€˜Gay? Actually I’m not.’
    â€˜But you just said you were!’
    â€˜No, I didn’t; I simply didn’t deny it. My generation doesn’t make a big thing of being gay like yours does. Now, what do you think of the last suspect on this list?’
    â€˜Doc Shafor? You have got to be kidding! He’s an octogenarian, for crying out loud!’
    â€˜Octogenarian, huh? Never heard of it, Miss Yoder. But sadly, I’m beginning to think that a person’s religion doesn’t have much to do with whether or not he could commit murder.’
    â€˜It’s not a religion you – you – Chief of Police!’ All right, so I hissed like a goose sitting on her nest. At least I hissed with a soft ‘c.’ One should always be careful not to be tricked into hissing whilst reading sentences that lack hissing sounds.
    Toy, who resembled a much younger version of Justin Bieber, shrugged. ‘Whatever. Let’s see, in my notes I’ve also got down that Doc Shafor is sort of an old guy. Is that true?’
    â€˜Yes, dear. As I said, he’s an octogenarian . He and Columbus – the one who discovered America – were childhood playmates.’ That was not a lie; it was an absurdity. Surely, even someone of Toy’s mental capacity would never believe that Doc Shafor had been around in the 1400s.
    â€˜No way,’ Toy said. He sounded truly impressed.
    â€˜Would I lie?’ I said, still without fibbing. Meanwhile, Granny Yoder rolled her eyes.
    â€˜I’ve also got down that he’s a skirt-chaser,’ Toy said.
    â€˜A what ?’ I said.
    â€˜He likes the ladies,’ Toy said.
    â€˜Oh, that,’ I said. ‘Yes, that’s quite true. I remember hearing the names Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria.’ Never mind that those were the names of Christopher