I S-pie

A Pushing Daisies Fanfiction

Chapter Four

No News is Good News

The next day, as Emerson Cod seated himself in a booth at the Pie Hole and asked for the usual slice of triple berry a la mode, Chuck was at his side almost instantly. There had been no other customers that day and she was about to die of boredom. (Well, not really.) She sorely hoped that there was a new development in the case.

Ned soon joined them and Emerson told them that he was going to talk to one of Darius Edwards' coworkers. Actually, two of them.

"Alan and Amanda Demetrius. They sound so stereotypical and suburban." Ned sighed and looked at the picture Emerson had given him to look at. It showed a handsome, smiling, blonde man and a beautiful, smiling, blonde woman. They were in front of a large, well-kept house and a nice, expensive car. "They are stereotypical and suburban."

"I'm sure they're very nice people," Chuck replied.

"Nice, my ass. I have reason to believe they were involved in the murder of Darius Edwards."

"But look at them. They're so happy." ("Too happy," Ned muttered under his breath.) "Do they look like they're the type of people to kill someone?"

Emerson narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, Darius Edwards used to be happy. And now he's dead. Somebody out there is the reason, and the odds are that it was someone he knows. Maybe even the man who was declined a promotion to the position of manager so that Darius Edwards could get it instead, even though the other man had been working there for two years longer."

"Oh," Chuck said. "I guess looks can be deceiving."

"That's what we're gonna find out. I need to go check it out."

"Sounds fun," Chuck commented, rubbing her hands together eagerly and looking at Ned. "Let's go!"

"I don't think I need to," Ned replied quickly. "Nobody's dead. …Are they?"

Emerson shook his head in response. But Chuck was not finished.

"Please? Just for old times' sake?"

"He said he didn't need to go," Emerson growled, "which means you don't either."

He would have liked to say that she never needed to go, and it would have made his life a lot easier if she never went at all. But he did not.

"Well, if you really want to," Ned said finally, hesitantly.

"It might be dangerous," Emerson warned, less concerned about their safety than he was about his success with the case.

"All the better," Chuck said. "I love an adventure."

"Last time you went on an adventure, you died," Ned said flatly.

An awkward silence ensued.

A moment later, Olive arrived with Emerson's slice of pie.

"Took you long enough," he grumped, shoveling a forkful into his mouth. Emerson Cod was an emotional eater. And at the moment he was feeling many emotions, none of them good.

"Oh, you're here," Olive beamed. "I know what this means."

She nudged Ned playfully.

"New case, huh?"

Ned said nothing, fearing Emerson's anger be turned against him.

"Oh. I see how it is," Olive murmured, turning away. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"It's all right, Olive," Chuck called. "Come sit."

Emerson uttered a low warning growl before taking another purposeful bite of his pie.

"There is a new case," Olive said happily, sliding into the booth next to Emerson. "So…"

"What's it to you?" Emerson asked, shoving away his pie plate.

"Somebody forgot to take their happy pills this morning," Olive whispered loudly to Chuck, who giggled appreciatively.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you know anything about this case. If I even have one, that is."

"Because I think you owe it to her for being so mean to her all the time," Chuck supplied.

"Aww, thanks, Chuck," Olive smiled, touching her friend's hand gratefully from across the table.

"I still haven't said you could come," Emerson said.

"Well, I have," Chuck shot back.

As they went out to the car, Chuck calling shotgun, Emerson shot Ned a glare and muttered obscenities to himself.

.

"Now that's just weird."

Chuck poked her head in through the door to the room in which Emerson Cod was currently standing.

"He's dead," she said softly. "Well, that's no good."

Alan Demetrius was in a tuxedo, and had a chocolate heart and a bouquet of roses on his desk. There was a bag on his head with a question mark on it, which startled Chuck as it reminded her of her own death. Death by suffocation in a pink plastic bag emblazoned with a yellow happy face was a rather embarrassing way to die. Though it wouldn't have mattered much, if she hadn't come back to life to worry about it.

"Not that. The fact that he's all trussed up like that. And there's two more outfits laid out on the desk here."

There were indeed. One was a sporting outfit, complete with shorts, tight shirt, and hiking boots. The other was a pair of nice jeans, tennis shoes, and another tight shirt on which a movie ticket lay.

"Maybe he's gay?" Ned offered, slipping inside to join them. He was followed by Olive.

"Only one way to find out," Emerson said pointedly, shooting a look at the Pie Maker.

"I bet he was getting ready to go on a date," Chuck added, looking adoringly at Ned as well and smiling.

"Maybe there wasn't a murder. Maybe he, you know, offed himself to escape punishment," Olive suggested with surprising brightness. "For killing one of his buddies." (As she watched Chuck and Ned fall over themselves cooing at each other, she felt as though she wouldn't quite blame him. For the killing-his-buddy part.)

"Mm-hm."

"You know, you sounded just like the coroner just then," Chuck told him.

"Nobody kills themselves while they're getting ready for a date," Emerson said in reply.

"Nobody gets ready for a date in their office," said Olive. "He probably wasn't going on a date at all. He was just pretending, in order to throw everyone off his trail. Especially his wife. He didn't want her to know."

Ned raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Chuck frowned.

Olive continued. "I know – he didn't want his wife to know, because he was going to kill her next, until he found out the police were hot on his tail. Yep, this guy was a suicidal serial killer. He was crazy! Heh… heh..."

Emerson grunted.

"Olive, you always making this stuff out to be more exciting than it is. Hey – how'd you know that there's a connection to another murder?"

Ned cocked his head, suspicious. "Yeah, Olive. How did you know?"

Chuck bit her lip. "Oops." She looked guilty. "I guess I must have told her this morning when she asked if I knew any good gossip—"

"Oops is right, sister," Emerson growled, interrupting. "You know what could happen if somebody, namely my client, finds out their information is being spread around to third parties."

"I thought your client was dead."

"Oh, no, this isn't the client – Emerson was hired by Adrienne Edwards," Chuck said.

"You did not just give her more information!" Emerson groaned.

"Sorry. Erm, you're right. This is the client. And he is most definitely dead," she amended hastily.

Emerson rolled his eyes and Ned grinned in spite of his friend's frustration.

"Yeah," Emerson said, "so you should probably go. While we do our detective-y stuff."

"I can't stay and watch?" Olive asked hopefully.

"No," Emerson and Ned replied in unison.

Pouting, Olive left the room to stand out in the hallway. Chuck pouted too.

"She's going to find out," she mouthed at Ned.

"No she won't," he mouthed back. His eye twitched.

"Well, do your thing, Pie Man," said the detective, gesturing to the body.

Ned made a pleading face but Emerson glared at him.

"I really don't want to do this. I thought I told you—"

"Hey," Emerson interrupted. "You didn't have to come along. But you did. So make yourself useful. I'm not asking, the money is."

"The money isn't here," Chuck pointed out. "You are too asking."

"He isn't even your client," Ned added. "There's no reward."

"Yes, but if this helps us solve somethin' leadin' to the bigger picture, there will be a very, very big reward. When somebody gets murdered there's always a reward."

"He's not doing it," Chuck repeated. She just wanted to back Ned up. It wasn't that she didn't want him to wake Alan up – she did really want to find out who had killed him and how and why. Ned sensed this.

"There goes my lead. I can't believe this fool is dead too," Emerson grumbled.

"Well, not for long."

He clicked the start button on his watch and leaned forward to touch the man's neck.

"Whoa. Where am I?"

"You're in your office, Mr. Demetrius," Chuck spoke up. "Pardon us for the interruption, but I'm Chuck and these are my friends Ned," (here the Pie Maker tried and failed to give a convincing smile) "and Emerson." (Emerson rolled his eyes. Again.)

"Well it's nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. This isn't my office."

"Well, I'm afraid you're running out of time," Ned fretted. "Forty seconds."

"Mr. Demetrius, did you have any last wishes or requests?"

"Tell my wife Amanda I loved her. I don't remember buying any of this, but could you give her these dozen roses? She'd love that. I—"

Just as Chuck was about to comment on how sweet that was and that they would be sure to do it, Emerson interrupted sharply:

"Dammit, woman, just ask him who killed him!"

"Oh. So that's what happened." The man shook his head wistfully. "I was wondering. Well, the only thing I can tell you is that whoever he or she was that did it, they were not quite right in the head."

"He or she?"

"Yes sir." The man, strangely enough, chuckled. "It was a man dressed up as a lady."

Just at that moment, Ned lurched forward and touched the man again.

"Well, that helps," Emerson grumbled sarcastically. "So he isn't gay, but the person who killed him most definitely is. And there are only a thousand gays in this city, not counting the two thousand others that won't admit it. Unless there's a catch, like it wasn't really a man, or he wasn't really dressed in woman's clothing. And there's always a catch."

"At least he only has one wife we have to talk to," Chuck said, with a small smile.

Emerson Cod froze. A picture entered his head, one of a woman who used to be one wife of four. One of a woman who was commanding and sexy. He shook away the picture quickly and once again assumed his poker face.

"That always has to happen, doesn't it?" Ned asked, still somewhat in shock as he stared blankly at the now-dead body of Mr. Demetrius. "I have to re-dead them right after they finally tell us something important."

"Of course," Emerson snapped, jamming his hat onto his head and shooting a glare at Chuck. "It's too bad we always run out of time before then. I couldn't possibly imagine why."

They left the room just as they had found it so the police could collect their own evidence, though nothing there would be of use to them. Olive was waiting outside and jumped up when she saw them. They used her phone to call 911 and then she leapt on them with various questions.

"So, did you find out anything interesting?" she wanted to know.

Emerson Cod lied, to protect his client and himself. He also told the truth, because Alan had really said nothing much they could go off of. He, moreover, referred to Chuck's ceaseless and unnecessary interruptions.

"Nothin' we didn't already know."

.

Oscar Verbinius did not own a television set. He actually owned very few electronics at all. And the little technology he did use was work-related and not for personal enjoyment.

But still, he did enjoy listening to news. It meant chaos. And he enjoyed chaos.

So as he pressed his ear to a vent, listening to the anchor-woman of channel five babble on about local baker and owner of the Pie Hole crafting the latest and greatest in sweet creations, his lips curved into a disturbing smile.

It was not that he disliked the Pie Maker. The Pie Maker had actually helped to clear his name of murder a while back. But the Pie Maker held secrets that Oscar Verbinius wanted to know.

He smiled because he knew how important order was to the Pie Maker. And he knew that order was about to completely disappear.

And the owner of the television that he was listening to knew these things too.