Death Before Diamonds (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 10) (14 page)

CHAPTER
28

During the lull between our
breakfast and lunch rushes, I went into the office to place an order for
butternut squash, pineapple chunks, onions and celery. Sky High had been a
customer of Liberty Fresh Produce since the first day my grandmother opened the
doors, so it felt like dealing with extended family members whenever I talked
to Randy or Allison Campbell.

“Katie!” Randy said cheerfully when
he heard my voice. “How’s our favorite customer doing?”

“I’m good, thanks. How’s everything
with you?”

“Can’t complain,” he answered. “I
gave that up on account of it never gets me anywhere.”

“Smart man. I should try that
sometime.”

He laughed. “What can we help you
with? We just got some fresh raspberries in, and they’re the juiciest ones that
I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thanks, but I’m not in the market
for any fruit besides pineapple today.”

After he made another attempt to
entice me into buying the berries, I read off the items in my order and we
chatted for a few more minutes about business trends in the area.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling
you this,” Randy said at one point with a hushed voice. “But I ran into that
photographer you’ve been dating.”

My cheeks warmed instantly. “Oh,
yeah?”

“Yeah,” Randy continued. “Zack’s a
good guy. He seems pretty smitten, Katie.”

Since Randy and his wife were a few
years younger than my parents, they both seemed to enjoy dispensing advice and
wisdom whenever we talked. I usually went with the flow, knowing that they were
also still in touch with my mother and father at their retirement Shangri-La in
Florida.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I
said. “I like Zack pretty well, too.”

Randy chuckled. “If your old man
can’t make it from snowbird territory to walk you down the aisle,” he quipped,
“then you can count me in!”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll
definitely keep that in mind.”

After a few more conversational
volleys, I finished the chat with Randy and sat back in my chair. The desk was
relatively organized, so I decided to take a quick look online for information
about the jewelry store robbery that Rex Greer had mentioned. If it was the
motivation for Theo’s visit to Crescent Creek, it would be good to learn at
least the basics about the heist.

I started with the name of the
store—Diamond Galleria—along with the most relevant key words:
robbery
,
shooting
,
Philadelphia
,
Theo Greer
,
diamond heist
and
Arlene
.
The results bounced back in less than twenty seconds, a long register of
newspaper articles, blog entries, industry trend reports and crime statistics.

Since the Diamond Galleria website
was at the top of the list, I decided to take a quick look and explore the
store’s featured products, jewelry collections and press releases. They were
having a sale on diamond tennis bracelets and earrings. Select purchases qualified
for special financing and no down payments. And the Daily Value pop-up featured
a gorgeous cultured freshwater pearl and crystal strand necklace for just under
two-hundred dollars.

Before my itchy shopping fingers
started to point and click toward yet another unnecessary purchase, I selected
a link at the top of the page marked
Galleria Memories
. I was expecting
glamour shots of customers on their wedding days, but the collection of
photographs actually featured a timeline of the store’s history, from the
opening day more than seventy years in the past to portraits of the current
family members on the management team.

As I scrolled down the page, I
noticed that the assortment included a handful of candid shots from various
employee banquets and holiday parties through the years. There were goofy
pictures of men and women in Halloween costumes. One image seemed to be from a
New Year’s Eve party. And a handful of photographs under the heading
ANNUAL
FRIENDS & FAMILY PICNIC
had been taken in a leafy green park setting.

I realized that my mouth was
starting to water while I studied the bountiful selection of food in one of the
picnic shots. It had been hours since I nibbled on a scone, so my mind began listing
things to eat—
omelet
,
banana nut muffin
,
waffle
,
poached
egg on toast
—as I read the captions beneath the photographs.

The list of edibles came to an
abrupt halt when I noticed one name in the final caption.

“Bethany Curlew?”

I quickly zoomed in and examined
the woman in the picture. Although she had a completely different hairstyle and
looked thirty pounds heavier, the person in the picnic photograph was
definitely the same Bethany Curlew that I’d met on Edgewood Road.

“Well, hello,” I said, smiling at
the screen. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Dressed in a baggy T-shirt and
knee-length denim shorts, Bitsy gazed into the camera with a relaxed, confident
smile. She was holding a package of hot dog buns in one hand while hoisting a can
of beer toward the camera.

“Hmmm,” I said. “I guess you gave
up beer and brats for yoga and low-fat living, huh?”

I snickered softly as I inspected
the other people gathered around Bethany. The photograph had captured about a
dozen Diamond Galleria friends and family members at the picnic. The others
looked like a nice group of people: casual smiles, hands waving at the photographer,
arms looped around shoulders.

I returned to the caption, reading
each name and matching it to a face until only two remained.

“Well, well,” I said. “It
is
a small world, isn’t it?”

The final entries, associated with
a pair of slightly blurry individuals in the back row of the group, confirmed
my niggling suspicion that Bitsy Curlew wasn’t entirely honest when we talked
the other day outside of her house.

“Hello, Rex and Theo Greer,” I
said, squinting at the brothers standing together and grinning for the occasion.
“It looks like Bitsy may know you after all.”

CHAPTER
29

After the lunch rush slowed and
Julia shooed me away from the front line, I left the kitchen and went into the
dining room. Harper was making the rounds, refilling coffee cups and water
glasses. I stood behind the counter for a few minutes, admiring her easy grace
and natural ability to maintain an endless flow of upbeat chatter with customers.

“Hey!” she said, gliding by to
start a fresh pot of decaf. “How’s everything in the kitchen?”

I smiled at Julia through the pass
window. “The chef told me to get out of the way,” I joked. “I was cramping her
style.”

“You were
not
!” Julia
called. “I know there are a million other things you need to take care of this
afternoon.”

I smiled. “Starting with a nap?”

“Doesn’t that sound absolutely
perfect?” Harper asked with a heavy-eyed grin. “A nap and someone to rub my
feet and maybe dinner later at Luigi’s without the kids.”

“Or the husband,” Julia added.

While they continued expanding the
list of make-believe diversions, I poured a cup of coffee and headed for the
office.

“Paperwork?” Harper asked.

“Up to here.” I held one hand far
above my head. “If I’m not back in an hour, send the search team. I may just
end up buried under a landslide of invoices and receipts.”

I was nearly to the end of the
counter when the phone beside the register rang and Harper called my name.

“That’s for you,” she said.

“How can you tell?”

“The ring,” she answered, giggling
lightly.

I gave her a comical frown, hurried
back to the register and scooped up the handset.

“Sky High Pies,” I said. “This is—”

“It’s Dina,” she said. “Are you
busy?”

“I was actually getting ready to do
some paperwork,” I said. “The lunch crowd has thinned to a trickle.”

“I’m glad I caught you between
things,” she said. “I know how busy you guys get around noon.”

My eyes drifted to the clock on the
wall.

“Today we were,” I said. “The last
hour and a half were pretty crazy, but it’s calmer now. What’s going on with
you?”

“I’ve got the call logs from Rex
Greer’s phone,” she said.

“Anything useful?”

Dina scoffed. “The guy talks to his
bookie a lot.”

“How do you know it’s a bookie?” I
asked.

“While we were waiting for the
warrant to access his phone,” Dina said, “I got in touch with the Philadelphia
PD. Just to work up a little background on the guy.”

“What did you find out?”

“Nothing dramatic,” she said. “Rex
Greer has one conviction for car theft. He actually served five years and just
got out about six weeks ago.”

“Thus the parole?”

“You got it. And his parole officer
was very interested to learn that Rex missed his appointment the other day
because he was half way across the country searching for his brother.”

“You’ve been busy,” I said.
“Warrant for the phone, calls to Philly and whatever else you’ve done for your
other cases.”

“All in a day’s work, Katie.”

“I hear you,” I said. “Did you find
anything on Rex Greer’s call logs besides the bookie?”

“We did,” Dina answered. “Mostly Philadelphia
numbers and a couple of strip clubs in Chicago. Looks like Rex made a pit stop
on his scenic bus tour of the country.”

“No doubt.”

Dina snickered softly. “But the
most interesting news about his phone involved local numbers here in Crescent
Creek.”

“That’s fantastic! Who did he
call?”

“Besides Sky High?”

“Yes,” I said. “Who did Rex call
besides us?”

“There were two other numbers,” she
said. “He dialed the first one about twenty-three times over a two-day period.”

“Did anyone answer?”

“About half the time,” she said.
“None of the calls exceeded more than five or ten minutes.”

“What about the second number?”

“Forty-six more calls,” she said. “Also
in a two-day period.”

“Doubled up on that lucky winner,”
I said. “Who did the numbers belong to?”

“They’re both on Edgewood Road,” Dina
said. “And they’re both among the last people you’d expect to know someone like
Rex Greer.”

CHAPTER
30

Bitsy Curlew glared at me through
the grimy glass for a few seconds before reluctantly pressing the button to
lower her car window. She’d been preparing to back out of the driveway when I
came to stop at the curb in front of her house and rushed up beside the
burgundy sedan.

“You again?” she said.

I offered an apologetic smile, but
it didn’t seem to soften her irritation. “Yep. It’s me. I’m glad that I caught
you.”

“Well, I’m not,” she groused. “I’m
going to the drug store to get some Advil. I can feel a migraine coming on.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said. “I
know how dreadful those can be, so I promise not to keep you.”

“What did you need?” she asked, sliding
her hands up and down the steering wheel.

“I have a few more questions about
Rex Greer.”

Bitsy moaned. “Oh, c’mon! Give it a
rest already. I’ve never met the guy. And I know that his father is missing or
whatever, but I can’t help.”

“It’s actually his brother,” I
said.

She kept her eyes on the
windshield, taking slow and deliberate breaths as she waited for me to
continue.

“But I think you might know that
already,” I said.

Her jaw clenched. “Who do you think
you are?” she demanded. “You don’t know a thing about me, not one
cotton-picking thing. And you have no right, absolutely
no
right or
authority, to come over here and start accusing me of stuff.”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything,
Miss Curlew.”

The muscles in her jaw flexed and
her eyes trembled, but she kept quiet.

“I’m simply trying to help one
person find a beloved family member,” I said.

She jeered. “
Beloved
? Is
that what you called him?”

“I did.”

“Well, how the heck would you be in
a position to say something like that? Have you ever met the guy’s father?”

“It’s his brother,” I said again.

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “The thing
is, you don’t know either of these men. You run some pie place and Rex showed
up with a wild tale about how he’s all worried about his big brother and can
anyone please help him find the lost little waif.”

I grinned at her choice of words.

“What’s so funny?” she hissed.

“Two things,” I said. “First of
all, I never mentioned that Theo is Rex’s older brother.”

Bitsy’s nostrils flared. “You most
certainly did,” she said.

“And the other thing,” I continued,
“the word ‘waif’ makes me smile.” I put one hand into my pocket. Her eyes
widened until she realized that I was pulling out my phone.

“I wanted to show you something
interesting that I found.”

“I don’t have time for this. I need
to get to the store while I can still see well enough to drive.”

I nodded and apologized again. Then
I asked where she was the evening that Rex Greer was found in a daze on the
sidewalk downtown.

“Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know if this will make
sense to you or not,” I said, “but I feel like I have a stake in Rex finding
his brother. It’s true that I don’t know either of them. And I can’t deny that
it might seem strange for me to spend so much time driving around town and
talking to different folks about the situation. But I used to work as a private
investigator, and the desire to solve a mystery can be difficult to shake.”

“Maybe you should try a little
harder,” she said.

I smiled. “Were you at home that
afternoon and evening?”

She heaved an irritated sigh. “No,
I was not!”

“Do you mind telling me where you
were?”

“You are one pushy pest,” she
answered. “That’s none of your business.”

“Sure, absolutely. I can’t force
you to reveal that information, but the police can.”

She laughed, a harsh and frosty sound
that reinforced the sneer on her face.

“I do have just one more thing to
ask you,” I said.

“No,” she rasped. “My head is
throbbing like nobody’s business.”

“I know,” I said. “And I apologize
for keeping you. But I found something that made me wonder if you’ve got a twin
out there somewhere or if maybe your story needs a little work.”

I quickly opened the picture of the
employee picnic that I’d downloaded from the Diamond Galleria website. Then I
resized the image so she would be able to see that it included the caption with
her name as well as the other individuals in the group.

“There we go,” I said when it was
ready. “I wanted to know if you could comment on this photograph.”

I flipped the phone and held it so
she had a good view. Then I shifted it slightly and pointed at the three
smiling faces.

“That looks like you,” I said, gesturing
at the slightly heavier Bitsy with long, curly hair. “Along with Rex Greer and
his brother.”

Bitsy’s mouth opened and closed a
few times. “Well, I cannot believe this!” she finally sputtered. “You think
it’s a big deal that I went to a picnic because my mother worked at some stupid
jewelry store?”

I shook my head. “That’s not it,” I
explained. “You told me the other day that you’d never met Rex or Theo Greer.”

Her lower lip quivered and she caught
it between her teeth to stop the tremor.

“Isn’t that right?” I added. “You
claimed that you’d never even heard the names, but there you are standing with
them in a picture from six years ago.”

She sighed again. “You know what?”
she said slowly. “You are one
sick
individual!”

And then, with the agility and
speed of an Indy 500 pro, Bitsy shifted gears, slammed on the gas and screeched
down the driveway into the street. Before gunning the engine again and fishtailing
away from her house, she gave me a middle finger salute and cold-blooded grin.
As she roared off down the street, I felt confident that I was getting nearer
to the truth about Theo Greer’s disappearance as well as the fallout from the robbery
and murder at the Diamond Galleria.

CHAPTER
31

“That was something,” said a voice
behind me.

I whirled around and saw Mildred
Nelson strolling along the sidewalk with a small gray dog. Trim and attractive
in a violet cardigan, white blouse and skinny jeans, Mildred looked far younger
than her age. When we first met at one of Blanche Speltzer’s cocktail parties,
I’d learned that Mildred had recently moved to Crescent Creek on her fiftieth
birthday to celebrate her early retirement and reconnect with her family’s Rocky
Mountain heritage.

“She was in a hurry,” I said. “Bad
headache or something.”

“Story of that girl’s life,”
Mildred said.

“Oh? Does she get a lot of them?”

The raven-haired woman shrugged. “I
couldn’t say.”

I smiled. “Part of her being in a
hurry might be my fault,” I said. “I was asking her questions about a guy named
Rex Greer.”

Mildred frowned. “A local fellow?”

“No,” I said. “He’s the man that
came to your door asking about his brother.”

She shook her head. “You must be
mistaken,” she said. “I’ve been home all day and nobody’s knocked except the
mailman.”

“This was a couple of days ago,” I
said. “Rex is twenty-five or thirty, with short hair and a scruffy beard. He’s
in town trying to find his older brother.”

“Well, I wish that I could help
you,” Mildred said. “But he never came to the door.” She paused. “And, now that
I think of it, why would he have stopped by? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Bitsy seemed pretty certain that
he’d stopped at your house.”

Mildred’s mouth settled into a stern
scowl. “Well, as usual, the little nitwit’s wrong.”

She shot a quick glance at Polly
Ladd’s house. “When Bethany’s friend moved to Edgewood Road, it just seemed
like everything went straight into the toilet. Polly gets in more arguments
with folks than anybody I’ve ever known.”

When the dog began to whine,
Mildred rubbed its head and cooed a few gibberish phrases.

“Somebody’s a little impatient,”
she said. “We should let you get on with your day and we’ll take our stroll.”

“It’s beautiful weather for it,” I
said, looking overhead at the clear sky.

Mildred’s eyes twinkled. “It sure
is! We’re heading over to that Italian place for dinner after a while. My
brother’s in the mood for lasagna and a glass of wine.”

“Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Always!” Mildred agreed. “That’s
why we’re in there about once a week. Just like Sky High Pies, Katie. I mean,
once you find good food, why not make it a regular part of your week?”

“Well, thank you, Mildred. That’s
kind of you to say.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome. It
makes Elwood happy and it saves me from doing the dishes every night.”

“It’s nice that you two get along
so well,” I said.

“I guess so,” Mildred said with a
smile that was unsteady and short-lived. “It’s not like I had much of a choice.
My brother fell on hard times about eight or nine months ago. I couldn’t very
well let him starve on the streets.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I
wasn’t aware of that.”

“Not many people are,” Mildred said
quietly as the small dog began to whine. “He’s a proud man.” She glared at the
pup. “And he’s half as much trouble as this little runt!”

We shared a giggle and she started to
walk away with the dog. After a few short steps, she stopped and circled back.

“You know,” she said. “I think you
mentioned that the fellow was trying to find his brother. Is that right?”

“He’s pretty convinced that
something happened to him,” I said.

Since I was still holding my phone,
I quickly retrieved the image of Theo Greer and showed it to Mildred.

“That’s the missing fellow?” she
said.

“His name is Theo,” I answered.
“And his brother’s name is Rex.”

“Well, I’ve never laid eyes on
Rex,” she said. “But that man…” She tapped the phone with one finger. “He was
over this way a couple of days last week.”

Since she sounded certain about
seeing Theo Greer, I asked Mildred for more details.

“Both times he was at Polly Ladd’s
house,” she said with a derisive smirk. “She knows all kinds of dicey people,
so I figured he was just another one of the cast of losers.” She paused,
studying my expression. “What is it, Katie? You’ve got a funny look on your
face.”

I shook off the haze of my spinning
brain and thanked her for the additional information.

“You’re quite welcome,” Mildred
said. “I didn’t give it much thought at the time. But now that you’re telling
me a young man’s gone missing, maybe I saw something that might be helpful to
somebody.”

“Oh, I think you can be certain of
that,” I told her. “In fact, I think it’ll be of great interest to more than
one somebody.”