Death Before Diamonds (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 10) (12 page)

CHAPTER
24

The Wagon Wheel Saloon was busier
than usual when I walked through the door that evening at six. Situated down
the street from the Crescent Creek Public Library, the watering hole was among
the most popular places in town to sip cocktails, play darts and indulge in the
finest five-alarm chili in the region. It was also a safe bet that you could
soak up as much local gossip as you wanted before finishing your first drink.

I looked around the room. I
recognized a few Sky High regulars before spotting Red Hancock, the hot spot’s
owner, behind the bar with a short, roly-poly guy wearing a green plaid flannel
shirt. I zigzagged through the crowd and took a seat on one of the few
available barstools.

“What gives?” I asked.

Red’s mile-wide smile glimmered. “We’re
trying a new two-for-one deal,” he said. “Looks like folks in town are pretty
thirsty today.”

The other guy laughed. “Especially
Mrs. Santa Claus.” He pointed toward the far end of the bar at Blanche Speltzer
dressed in a chic crimson velvet blazer with a white faux fur collar. “She’s on
her third dirty martini.”

“To be fair,” Red added, “Blanche
asked us to serve them in shot glasses, so it’s not quite as decadent as it
sounds.”

I laughed at the comment as Red clamped
one brawny hand on his cohort’s arm.

“Katie,” Red said, tugging the
other man toward where I sat. “Have you met our new bartender?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t had
the pleasure,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Kate Reed.”

The bald guy looked to be a few
years younger than Red, maybe thirty-five or forty. His grip was like a vice,
and I winced slightly as we shook.

“Ross Bilton,” he said. “Nice to
meet you.”

“Likewise. Are you new to town as
well as this juke joint?”

He smiled. “Yep. My wife got a job teaching
English at the high school. I’ve been studying for my business degree online,
so I’m working here three or four nights a week. Bartending is kind of like a
third career while I get ready for my fourth.”

“He’s on a trial period,” Red
joked.

“How’s it going so far?” I asked.

Ross glanced at Red. “Well, coach?
How am I doing?”

“I’d give it a ninety-five
percent,” Red answered. “And, just for the record, I’m not crazy about people
calling me any nickname besides the one I’ve already got.”

The other man winced comically and
apologized. “What can I get for you, Kate?”

“I’ll have a chardonnay,” I replied.
“And I’ll be sitting over there with Santa’s spouse. If you could bring it to
me, I’d be much obliged.”

While Red showed the newbie where
bottles of wine were stored, I made my way down the bar to join Blanche. She
was focused on her phone, tilting and turning it to get a better view of
something on the screen.

“May I join you?” I asked.

She gave me a sideways glance. “On
one condition,” she said, patting the next stool. “Will you help me figure out
how to download this new dating app?”

I put my purse on the bar and sat
beside her.

“A new dating app?” I said. “Is
something going on with you and Boris?”

Her head twirled in my direction.
“There’s
plenty
going on between us,” she said. “But it’s nothing I can
share with someone as young and impressionable as you, Katie.”

I liked the fact that Blanche and
Boris, two of the more senior residents of Crescent Creek, had been happily
dating for several months. They made a cute couple and the relationship seemed
to have smoothed the more jagged edges of their personalities. Before they
started spending time together, they could both be a little tetchy. But now, no
matter the weather or time of day, they waltzed around town like two newlyweds
enjoying a perfect honeymoon.

“Okay,” I said, smiling as Ross
delivered my glass of wine. “If things are good between you guys, why the
dating app?”

“Get with the program, Katie!”
Blanche said. “My matchmaking service is going gangbusters, but I need to keep
up with the competition. I heard from Mary Louise Sifton that Claudia Stein met
someone new through one of these dating app thingies.” She glowered at her
phone. “They’re a little impersonal for my taste. But if someone as wise as
Claudia thinks that they’re a good bet, I need to check into them.”

I held out my hand. “Want me to
take a look?”

Blanche put the phone beside her
handbag. “Oh, forget about that,” she said. “I’d rather chitchat. What brings
you to the other side of the tracks tonight?” She rolled her shoulders and
smiled. “A place, I might add, that I find very comfortable indeed!”

The remark was amusing, but her
facial expression was even better: a crafty grin with both eyebrows elevated.

“You’re a little imp, aren’t you?”

She raised her shot glass. “I’ll
drink to that!”

We sipped our cocktails and she
told me that two of her friends would be arriving soon.

“You’re welcome to join us for a
bite to eat,” Blanche added.

“That’s okay. I still have work to
finish up at Sky High, so I can only stay for a few minutes.”

“Suit yourself.” She raised one
eyebrow before drinking more of her miniature martini. “I may not be young, but
the night sure is! We’re going to get wild, Katie! Sandy Hollister is bringing
pictures from her trip to the nude beach in St. Tropez.”

I felt my cheeks turn pink. “How
lovely,” I said. “Sorry that I’ll miss out on the fun.”

After I enjoyed another sip of
wine, Blanche leaned closer.

“So?” she said, putting one hand on
my arm. “You seem a little preoccupied, sweetie. What’s going on?”

“Actually, I stopped by your house
a few minutes ago to get your opinion about something,” I said. “Boris told me where
to find you.”

She smiled. “And here I am.”

“In all your radiant beauty,” I added,
nodding at the velvet jacket. “Your outfit is really cute.”

“Thank you, dear. That new
bartender asked if my husband was working late with the elves. I guess the coat
reminded him of Santa Claus.”

“What did you tell him?” I said.

She frowned. “No need to repeat it.
Boris thinks I have a big enough potty mouth as it is. But I think my eight
decades of life give me the right to get saucy every now and then.”

I held up my wine glass. “Cheers!”
I said. “Let’s drink to saucy, confident women of all ages.”

Blanche raised her glass, touched
it to mine and then took a tiny sip. After she put the martini back down on the
bar, she asked me again what I wanted to discuss.

“It’s about Polly Ladd,” I said. “I
wanted to know what you think of her.”

Blanche made a face before pinching
her nose between one thumb and forefinger.

“This is what I think,” she said.
“That woman is bad news.”

I smiled. “Can you be more
specific?”

“How much time have you got?”
Blanche teased. “I actually just talked to a couple of my girlfriends about
Polly because they had a little incident with her at the nail salon.”

“Oh, really?”

She smiled. “Yes, but it’s not a
very juicy story. We can save that one for another time. What I
can
tell
you is that Polly Ladd moved here about a year ago from somewhere on the East
Coast. She works as a tour guide for wealthy travelers, so she’s gone a fair
amount of the time. When she is home, my sources tell me that she spends a
fortune on Botox, eats a lot of quinoa, once ordered a dozen roses that she had
delivered to herself and—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but
how do you know all of this?”

Blanche’s lips sloped into a rascally
grin. “Now, now,” she said. “You know that ladies of a certain age never reveal
three things, don’t you, doll? The date on their birth certificate. The
combination to the safe where they keep their valuables. And which girlfriend
dishes the best gossip in town.” She smiled again, tilting her head at a jaunty
angle. “Although I love you very much, I cannot reveal my sources.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “What do you
really think of Polly?”

Blanche smiled. “She’s not my cup
of tea. I heard she’s snobbish, a sore loser and mediocre at bridge.”

Before I could move on to my next
question, Blanche’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, read the text and
giggled. “That was Dot Higgins,” she said. “The girls are about five minutes
away.”

I took another sip of wine. “In
that case, I should probably get going.”

“Sure you won’t stay and join us
for another?” Blanche asked, raising her martini. “We can drink to the handsome
men in our lives!”

“I’d love to,” I said, getting up
from the barstool. “But I have one more stop to make before I head back to work.”

“Okay, Katie.” She sipped her drink
and put down the glass. “In that case, have a wonderful evening, okay? And remember
to keep the most important thing front and center at all times.”

I smiled. “And what might that be?”

“Don’t do anything that Blanche
wouldn’t do,” she said. “Unless it’s something that’s worth doing twice!”

CHAPTER
25

The offices of Eugene Crisp
Realtors smelled like a movie theater concession stand when I arrived a few
minutes after seven. Suzee Dirnhofer was standing behind the reception desk
sipping from a bottle of Corona as one hand hovered above a large plastic bowl
filled with glistening popcorn. Four men wearing black sombreros, two-piece
suits and silver-accented red satin ties slouched on folding chairs just inside
the front door. A bright blue banner spanned the back wall of the office:
WELCOME!
WE APPRECIATE YOU!

One of the musicians picked up his
guitar and began to pluck the strings. I waved at the quartet before glancing
at Suzee. The 25-year-old go-getter was dressed in a mid-thigh navy skirt and
matching jacket over a jade silk blouse. I’d only known her for a few months,
but I liked the fact that she seemed to possess more verve and enthusiasm than many
other Crescent Creek residents.

“Hi, Katie!” Suzee said brightly.
“I am
so
glad to see you!”

“You are?”

She put down the beer and walked
around the desk. “You’re the
very
first guest at our
very
first Customer
Appreciation Fiesta!”

“Wow!” I said. “What an honor!”

“What a
disaster
!” She
followed the declaration with a raucous laugh. “Mr. Crisp went down the block
to Milton’s Tap Room for something stronger than beer. He thought the place
would be super packed.”

The mariachi band had moved into
the middle of the room, where they began to play softly in the background.

“They sound great!” I said.

Suzee nodded. “Aren’t they good? I
think their version of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ is even better than the original.
They’ll take requests, too. Anything but Black Sabbath.”

She walked to a folding table on
the far side of the room and plucked a CD from a small stack.

“Here,” she said, coming back
toward me. “These are complimentary. It’s their latest album. It’s got a bunch
of traditional stuff, but they also do a great Justin Bieber cover and a couple
of gospel hymns that made me cry.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” I said,
slipping the gift into my purse. “I’ll give it a spin later.”

As the band continued to play a
sleepy song that packed as much punch as a limp noodle, I asked Suzee if she
knew anything about recent homes for sale on Edgewood Road.

“How recent?” she said.

“Within the past few years.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t worked
here that long. But if you’re in the market for a new place, I can see if
anything on that street is in the MLS.”

“I’m not looking to buy,” I quickly
explained. “I’m more interested in previous sales.”

“Want me to check?” she offered.
“It’ll only take a minute to see if anything pops up.”

“Thanks!” I said, following her
back to the reception desk. “That would be great!”

While she started the search, I
listened to the mariachi band tear through a spicy rendition of
I Heard It Through
the Grapevine
.

“Okay,” Suzee said a few minutes
later. “Here are all the residential sales transactions on Edgewood Road during
the last eight years.”

“Are the owners male or female?” I
asked.

Suzee smiled. “Is this about gender?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I’m
following a hunch about something that involves two or three women in
particular.”

She narrowed her eyes, leaned
toward me and lowered her voice. “Like a coven?” she asked. “Are you telling me
that we have witches in Crescent Creek?”

I quickly explained that my mission
didn’t involve witchcraft, broomsticks or pointy black hats.

“Darn!” Suzee said. “It’s been so
dull around here lately. A good witchcraft conspiracy would liven things up a
little bit.”

“No doubt,” I agreed. “But that’s
not on my agenda.”

“What is?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “But
it may involve one or more women living on Edgewood Road and a man who’s gone
missing.”

“Okay, sure.” Her eyes zipped back
to the computer. “There’s a listing here from eight years ago. Someone named…”
She moved closer to the screen. “Well, the buyer was Eldon Slattery. Do you
want any of that?”

I shook my head. “Let’s focus on
the female buyers.”

“Works for me,” Suzee said. “Six
years ago, a woman named Lucille Fanbrick bought the little Tudor there on the
corner of Edgewood Road and Elm.”

“Okay,” I said. “Anything more
recent? Maybe within the last three or four years?”

“You betcha! There are three more…”
She paused, frowned and then glanced at me over the top of her laptop. “This is
pretty cool, Katie. Two of these transactions are from almost three years ago
and the third one is from last year.”

“That sounds promising,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Do you want to know what
else?”

I nodded.

“Wow!” Suzee’s voice trilled with
excitement. “Are you ready for this?”

I answered with another silent nod.

“All three properties were bought
by the same woman!”

A soft tickle of anticipation fluttered
in my stomach at the news.

“And get
this
!” She looked
up, eyes wide with astonishment. “The notes here say that she paid well above
the asking price for all three properties.” She paused again. “And…my goodness!
She also paid cash to expedite each closing.”

“Must be nice!” I smiled as Suzee
fell back in her chair. “That’s a lot of moolah!”

“No kidding!” she cheered. “I mean,
I can’t do the math in my head, but it would’ve been like…” Her gaze tapered
again and her lips moved silently as the abacus behind her vibrant blue eyes
clipped into overdrive. “Well, almost a half million dollars or so.”

“Are they big lots?” I asked.

Suzee nodded. “Fairly large. The
front lawns are a normal size, but they all have a huge amount of space in the
back.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. “Can
you tell me the buyer’s name?”

She nodded. Then she checked the
screen again. And then she revealed the identity of the individual who owned a
trio of houses on Edgewood Road.

“And you said that two of them
closed on the same day?” I asked.

“Yep!”

“Can you tell me the month?” I
said.

Suzee nodded and checked the
information again before answering my question. The sales had transpired almost
exactly three years after the brazen robbery of Diamond Galleria.

“And I have one more question,” I
said.

“Fire away!”

“Do you know if the buyer lives in
one of the houses?”

Suzee frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if she purchased all three,
then maybe two of them were investment properties,” I suggested. “Or she might
possibly rent all three and live elsewhere.”

Suzee’s eyes twinkled. “Oh! I get
it! My brain may not be clicking quite right.” She tapped on the bottle beside
her computer. “This is my second beer. I never drink at work, but this is a
special occasion and I hated seeing all of those Coronas go to waste.”

“That makes sense.”

She went back to the laptop,
shifting her eyes around the screen in search of the answer to my question.

“You know something?” she said
finally. “Let me just check Mr. Crisp’s notes in another file. For most
transactions, he keeps a sort of personal journal about what each buyer is
looking for, the types of features they want and if…” She stopped to study a
new document, squinting to decipher Eugene Crisp’s comments about the Edgewood
Road properties. “Well, this must be it,” she said. “The buyer spent most of
her time looking at the house with the Jacuzzi in the master bath. She went
back to see it eight times before making up her mind.”

“And which house has the Jacuzzi?”
I asked.

“The one with the gazebo in the
back,” Suzee answered. “It also has a walk-in closet and marble countertops in
the kitchen.”

“Sounds nice,” I said.

“Doesn’t it now?”

“If I was flush with cash,” I said,
“and buying more than one house on the same street, I’d definitely want the
Jacuzzi.”

After a few more minutes with
Suzee, while the mariachi band provided a melodic soundtrack for our conversation,
I went outside to my car.

“Well, that was interesting,” I
said, checking my makeup in the rearview mirror. “One woman, three houses and
two more dots connected.”