Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7) (12 page)

I grinned at the description. “And
do they?” I asked.

“Do they what?”

“Get what they want?”

“Always,” Kevin Hertel said.
“They’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

“Could that include staging a
burglary at Carter’s home before they commit murder and arson?” I asked in a
somber tone.

His mouth exploded into a bright
smile. “Yep. Those things would be child’s play to people like Carter and
Velma. It’s like they were both born without the ability to feel guilt, remorse
or shame.”

CHAPTER
27

A couple of hours after Kevin and
Boris Hertel left, I went back to the office, sat at my desk and reviewed the
notes from a meeting that Julia and I had recently with a woman named Elle
Samuelson and her mother. Elle wanted a naked cake for her wedding reception—chocolate
layers with buttercream frosting between each level but no fondant around the
outside—and her mother had pitched a fit.

I smiled at a little scribbled note
in the margin of my notebook:
Elle wants trendy naked, Mom not so much
.
In the end, the bride-to-be was victorious. The wedding was in a few weeks, and
we were planning a towering chocolate-buttercream cake with fresh pink and
white roses on the top.

I needed to finalize details for
the tasting, so I reached for my phone to schedule it with Elle. As I flicked
through my notes to find her number, a call came in. I glanced at the display
and laughed.

“Perfect timing!” I told Zack after
answering. “I was just getting ready to call a client, but I’d much rather talk
to you.”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry to interrupt
work, Katie.”

“Are you crazy? I’m glad you
called. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“That makes two of us,” he said.
“How’s everything there?”

“Busy. We had a busload of middle
school students stop for lunch today.”

“How’d Harper and Julia feel about
that?”

I giggled. “I’ve never seen anyone
so happy to watch the red taillights of a bus before. The teacher and
chaperones were incredible, but the kids were pretty wound up when they came
into the dining room.”

“Any damage?”

“One little guy had his pride
shattered,” I said. “He was trying to tease a girl by reaching over to pull her
ponytail, but he went too far and the chair tipped.”

“Ah, poor guy. How bad was it?”

“He’ll recover,” I said. “Eventually.
And there were no broken bones and no blood loss, so the adults were relieved.”

“I know how that goes,” Zack said.
“No physical injuries, but the ego gets bruised and battered.”

I laughed again. “Sounds like
you’ve had first-hand experience.”

“Mary Jo Danziger,” Zack mumbled. “I
was twelve.”

I waited for the rest of the childhood
memory, but he was silent. After a gentle nudge, he filled me in on the
childhood trauma. The story involved a first date with Mary Jo in the school
cafeteria, a tray loaded with two bowls of vanilla pudding and an unseen puddle
of milk on the floor.

“I was flat on my back for about
five minutes,” Zack said, doing his best to stifle a hearty laugh. “Pudding on
my face, Mary Jo holding my hand and a bunch of my best buddies standing around
laughing and pointing. It was the worst!”

“Sounds like it. I’m really sorry
to hear you went through that, but it didn’t seem to do any permanent harm.”

He grunted. “Me, tough!” he boasted
in his best Tarzan voice. “Me, can take it!”

“I know you can. I’ve seen you
handle Blanche Speltzer after she’s guzzled two martinis!”

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

“Good. I talked to her the other
day about Boris Hertel.”

“And how’s
he
doing? What’s
the latest?”

“He and Kevin were just here a
little while ago,” I reported. “They gave me the background on Carter Devane
and the origins of Minty Dog Chews.”

“I’m sorry,” Zack laughed. “Did you
say ‘Mincing Dog Toots’?”

“No, no!” I slowed down to
carefully enunciate the name of Devane’s company. “It’s a long story, handsome.
I’ll fill you in when you get home.”

“Sounds good,” Zack said with a
chuckle. “That’s actually what I was calling to tell you, Katie. I have some
good news.”

“I’m listening…”

“I’ll be back a couple of days
early,” he said. “The client’s really happy with what we have and they don’t
think we need the rest of the days that were booked.”

“Does that mean you’ll lose money?”

“Not at all,” he answered. “They
pay for the full week whether they use it or not.”

“That sounds pretty wonderful!”

“It’s nice, for sure. But you want
to know what I think is wonderful?”

“Vanilla pudding on a cafeteria
tray?” I said.

Zack’s laugh sounded warm and
zesty. “Well, of course,” he said. “But what I’m talking about is getting to
see my favorite girl, Katie! I’m talking about you!”

I basked in the glow of the
compliment as he discussed the remaining day of photography for his client.
Then he asked what I was working on and I explained the concept of a naked
wedding cake.

“Hmmmm,” he said thoughtfully.
“That’s a new one on me.”

“Same for Elle Samuelson’s mom. Her
face turned so red when she heard the idea that I thought she was going to
explode.”

“But she didn’t?”

“Not while they were here,” I said.
“But Mrs. Samuelson has a temper, so who knows what happened after they got in
the car to go home.”

Zack laughed again. “Well, whatever
happens with the wedding, babe, I know the cake will be as beautiful as the
bride!”

CHAPTER
28

The next afternoon around four o’clock, the lobby of the Crescent Creek Lodge was filled with two dozen silver
haired men and women chattering about their upcoming excursion to Boulder. They
were all wearing matching bright blue caps emblazoned with a huge sunrise and
the name Silver Spurs Tours. The group’s leader was a tall, vivacious middle-aged
woman with curly red hair to her shoulders and a clipboard tucked under one
arm.

“Listen up, people!” she called as
I scooted around the edge of the crowd. “Our bus is due to leave in less than
ten minutes. Does anyone need the little boys’ or little girls’ restroom before
we depart?”

While the cluster of tourists
discussed the pros and cons of the suggestion, I made my way to the front desk.

“May I help you?” asked the man
behind the counter.

I didn’t recognize him, but Connie
Larson had told me that a couple of new employees had joined her team at the
hotel in recent weeks.

“Is Connie available?”

His gaze narrowed. “Is she
expecting you?”

“No, but I just have one quick
question for her.”

He reached under the counter,
producing a pad of paper and pen that he held toward me.

“Why don’t you write a note?” he
suggested. “I’ll make sure she gets it later.”

I took the pad and pen, but put
them down on the counter. “Maybe we can give her a quick call?”

The man’s nostrils flared slightly.
“Or maybe you can leave a note?”

I clenched my teeth and smiled.
Connie’s hotel was one of the more exclusive options in the area, but her staff
members were usually more relaxed and easygoing. As I thought about the best
way to handle the unexpected delay, I heard Connie calling my name. When I
glanced over my shoulder, she was slipping through the Silver Spurs group and
heading for the front desk.

“Hi!” she said, wrapping me in a
hug. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I answered. “How about
you?”

She gave the gray-haired gang a
little nod. “I’ll be better once these ruffians check out in a couple of days,”
she whispered. “I’ve never seen so much debauchery in all of my life.”

I glanced back at the senior
citizens as they began walking toward the front door. Besides the usual lively
chatter that you’d expect with any tour group, they appeared to be a sedate and
respectable crowd.

“What’s the scoop?” I asked
quietly.

Connie rolled her eyes. “Skinny
dipping, streaking through the halls, crushed beer cans in the pool and noise
complaints from some of our other guests.”

“Wow! That’s how I want to party
when I’m their age.”

She smiled. “I know. I feel the
same way, but I’d hope that you and I will be a little less wild and crazy when
we stay at hotels on a cross-country tour.”

As the last of the Silver Spurs
guests filtered out of the lobby, Connie took my arm and suggested we go to her
office. I smiled at the man behind the counter, but he was immersed in
something utterly riveting on his computer screen and didn’t notice.

“Who’s the gatekeeper at the front
desk?” I asked as Connie opened her office door. “He was determined not to let
me through.”

She laughed. “That’s Rowland. He’s
actually very good at the job, but his background is in super exclusive resorts.
He’s used to running interference for high-class types.”

“What am I?” I asked, sitting in
one of the guest chairs. “Chopped liver?”

Connie followed the quip with a
lilting laugh as she walked behind her desk. Then she gave me a quick rundown
on Rowland’s stellar qualifications.

“Well, he sounds awesome!” I said
when she finished. “Maybe I need someone like that at Sky High Pies.”

She snickered. “No, you don’t. The
team you have now is absolutely perfect!”

“I am pretty darn lucky. Julia and
Harper do such a great job.”

“As do you,” Connie said. “Now,
tell me—what’s going on? I’m thrilled to see you, but there’s something in your
eyes that suggests you’re not here to simply shoot the breeze.”

“Can’t we do both?” I smiled. “I
have a couple of questions about something, but it’s been forever since we had
a chance to just chat.”

“Do you want something to drink? I
can call Gina in the lounge and have her bring a glass of wine or maybe
coffee?”

“I’m fine, but thanks. I know
you’re busy. And I should get back to work myself before too long.”

Connie nodded. “Okay, so…” Her
voice had the singsong rhythm of a schoolteacher addressing a class of students.
“What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to ask you about a
guest,” I said. “Her name is Velma Lancaster.”

The response was instantaneous; a
wide and relaxed smile with a slight tilt of her head. “You just made my day,
Katie.” She reached down, opened one of the desk drawers and retrieved a beige
envelope. It was one of the familiar packets with a button-and-string closure
on the flap and
Inter-Departmental Mail
printed on the front. “I just
called Detective Kincaid about this,” she said. “But maybe I can get your
thoughts as well.”

She handed the envelope to me. I
took it and placed it in my lap.

“Estelle found those things under
the mattress in Mrs. Lancaster’s former suite about thirty minutes ago,” Connie
explained. “She’d asked to change rooms due to the noise I was telling you
about earlier.” She smiled and laughed softly. “You know—the rowdy youngsters
with Silver Spurs Tours.”

I smiled, picturing the animated
group of guests leaving the lobby a moment earlier. Then I looked down at the
envelope. It was crisp and new, unmarked except for a three-digit number
circled with heavy black marker.

“That’s Mrs. Lancaster’s original suite
number,” Connie said. “Estelle put the items in the envelope and made a note of
the room before she brought them to me.”

“Are these Mrs. Lancaster’s
belongings then?”

Connie gestured at the packet.
“Aren’t you going to take a look, Katie? I’d like to hear what you think.”

When I opened the flap and peered
inside, I saw a folded sheet of paper and crinkly white tissue that appeared to
be wrapped around a small object.

“Go ahead,” Connie said. “Take a peek.
My gut tells me that they’re related to what happened at Ira Pemberton’s. I’d
love to see if you agree.”

I held the envelope up and let the
contents slide out onto the desktop. Then I put the packet aside, reached for
the piece of paper and felt my heart shudder when I saw what was printed on the
front. It was the same strange rhyming verse that Boris Hertel had delivered to
me at Sky High Pies.

“What do you think?” Connie asked
eagerly. “Isn’t that weird?”

I nodded. “Yes, and it’s also
something that I’ve seen before.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve
got
to be kidding me!”

“I’m completely serious,” I said,
putting the poem back into the envelope. “What’s in the tissue?”

She smiled. “See for yourself. They
about took my breath away.”

I carefully unfolded the tissue.
Inside, gleaming beneath the overhead lights like matching stars plucked from
the night sky, I found two stunning diamond and pearl earrings.

“Wow,” I said, looking over at
Connie. “These are pretty darn spectacular!”

She sighed. “If only they were
mine,” she said breathlessly. “I’d never take them off.”

I stared at the astonishing earrings
for a few more seconds before wrapping them in the tissue and putting the
bundle back inside the envelope.

“What do you think?”

I smiled at Connie. “I think you
were wise to call Dina Kincaid.”

“Stolen?”

“Quite possibly,” I said. “But the
truly curious thing is the poem.”

“What poem?” asked Connie.

I pointed at the envelope. “The one
on that piece of paper. Didn’t you read it?”

She shrugged. “Quickly,” she said. “Maybe
too quickly? I was more interested in the sparkly goodies.”

Since Connie was a fashionable
dresser with a ravishing wardrobe and plenty of her own fancy jewelry, I wasn’t
surprised by the remark.

“Well, the very same poem was also
left at someone’s house in Aspen,” I said. “It  was burglarized when the owners
were in California.”

Connie crossed her arms over her
chest. “And let me guess,” she said, sitting back in the chair. “They took a
pair of expensive diamond-and-pearl earrings?”

“Along with a costly first edition
of a book,” I said. “Something called
Desire of Eden
.”

“What’s that worth?” she asked.

When I told her, she laughed. “An
old book might appeal to some people,” she said. “But I’d rather have the earrings.”

“No doubt.” I looped the string around
the button on the envelope. “I think either one would be a good discovery next
to a birthday cake.”

Connie reached into a pocket in her
skirt, coming out with her phone. “Will you hang around and help me explain
this to Detective Kincaid?” she asked.

“I don’t think you need me here,” I
said. “Just tell her the truth.”

“I can do that.”

“You can probably leave out the
wild and crazy seniors on tour,” I suggested. “Unless you feel that would be
especially relevant.”

Connie laughed. “I’ll probably skip
that part.”

“Good idea,” I agreed. “There will
be plenty to discuss without that minor detail.”

She unfolded her arms and reached
for the envelope. “I just can’t believe that Velma Lancaster is involved in
something like this.”

“Because she’s a guest here?”

Connie shook her head. “No, because
she strikes me as a very sincere and levelheaded woman. I mean, once you chip
away the icy façade. She’s been here for a few days, and I’ve talked with her a
couple of times in the dining room. Mostly about the history of Crescent Creek,
the surrounding area and that sort of thing.”

I smiled. “The usual humdrum
touristy stuff?”

“I suppose,” Connie said quietly.
“Why do you suspect that she’s involved with something illicit?”

I shrugged, but kept quiet.

“Oh, c’mon. You can tell me, Katie.
What are you helping Trent and Dina with this time?”

“Am I that obvious?”

Her frown had faded and she laughed
at my question. “You’re that intense,” she said. “Like I told you, there’s
something in your expression. What’s going on?”

“Well, I can’t say too much,” I
confided. “But that’s mainly because I don’t know much about the situation.”

Connie shifted in her chair, easing
back and crossing her legs to get more comfortable.

“Is it about the fire at Ira
Pemberton’s place?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact,” I said. “It
appears to be connected to that case.”

“But how is Mrs. Lancaster
involved?”

“I can’t answer that quite yet, but
she knows some of the people associated with the situation.”

“Like Carter Devane?” Connie smiled
playfully. “Is he associated with whatever’s going on?”

“Bingo,” I said. “How do you know
that name?”

Connie smiled, leaned forward and
tapped the iPad on her desk. “Because he checked in a couple of days ago,” she
said. “The Continental Divide Suite for himself and a double king room for his
assistant. I’ve also seen him in the dining room with Mrs. Lancaster a few
times.”

“That’s strange. Trent told me that
Carter Devane went back to Aspen.”

“Well, that’s true, too.” Connie
got up and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “He’s been driving back and
forth between here and his home down there. He checked into the Lodge so he’d
have a place to stay in town while the police are sorting through things.”

“Sorting through things?”

“He didn’t really give me any
details,” Connie answered. “He just mentioned that he was working with the
local PD on something sensitive.”

She was starting to check the time
every few seconds, so I got up and told her I needed to get back to Sky High.

“Thanks for telling me about he
earrings,” I said. “Make sure you share all of that with Dina.”

“I already did,” she said. “Trent
was busy, but I talked to Dina briefly. Strangely enough, she was already on
the way over here, so it was good timing. And from the excitement in her voice,
I’d say we found something she thinks might be helpful to the case that she’s
working on.”