Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7) (3 page)

CHAPTER 5

A few minutes after eight that
night, I was sitting at a table in the Sky High dining room with my laptop, a
pile of invoices and a spreadsheet that looked like someone had spilled red ink
on an intricate network of black squiggles. I’d tried working in my office, but
the windowless nook felt even more claustrophobic than usual. I decided the
empty, expansive front room would be more conducive to finishing the bills
before midnight.

“Well, Nana Reed,” I whispered to
my beloved culinary mentor, “here I am, wearing my fuzzy slippers and drinking
wine while I attempt to balance the books.”

The lights were dim, an old Bonnie
Raitt CD was playing softly and I still had a few sips left in the glass of
merlot that I’d brought downstairs from my apartment.

I was in such a relaxed state that
I literally jumped out of my chair when the phone rang. I glanced at the display,
picked up the noisemaker and tapped the screen.

“Ladies’ lingerie,” I said in a
sultry tone. “Are you calling about the buy one, get one offer on strapless
bras?”

My sister snorted. “What the heck
is going on up there?”

“I passed the point of no return
about half an hour ago.”

“Ah, so you’re doing the
bookkeeping?”

I groaned. “Somebody has to. It’s a
necessary evil of running a thriving family business.”

“Speaking of which,” Olivia said,
“have you talked to mom and dad lately?”

“She called me this morning, but
Julia and I were in the weeds. A busload of seniors had stopped on the way to Las
Vegas. I hate to admit this, but I haven’t even listened to her message yet.”

“Well, there’s no need. I can tell you
what she was calling about—dad’s getting a tattoo.”

I smiled. “And?”

“And she’s on the warpath,” my
sister said. “He wants to have Taylor Swift’s face inked on his right bicep.”

“Taylor who?”

Olivia laughed. “Swift. As in,
Taylor Swift the singer.”

“Is he a fan or something?”

“Apparently,” she answered. “They
went to water aerobics a few days ago and a new  instructor played a bunch of
Taylor Swift songs. Dad went nuts, but mom suspects it was because the new
woman had an hourglass figure, a string bikini and the ability to use her
cleavage as a flotation device.”

“Fake breasts?”

“
Very
!” Olivia said. “Mom told
me that the woman had so much plastic going on above
and
below the waist
that she was one part Tupperware, one part Barbie.”

I laughed and asked if my mother
had called earlier for my advice or support.

“Neither,” Olivia replied. “She
started a petition to convince daddy that he’s having a midlife crisis and the
tattoo is a terrible idea.”

“A midlife crisis?”

“You heard me. He’s suddenly obsessed
with pop singers, skinny jeans and a water aerobics instructor named Gigi.”

I didn’t know what to say about my
father’s newfound interests, so I kept quiet. My sister has never had a problem
filling the spaces in a conversation, so I knew she’d keep going if I didn’t
chime in.

“But I don’t see any problem with
it,” Olivia continued a split second later. “I mean, mom’s been texting me
about the new barista at the Starbucks near their condo. His name is Yoyo or
something, and he—”

“Whoa! Hang on a sec. Did you say
his name is Yoyo?”

She snickered. “Or Yolo or Nolo. I
don’t really know for sure. She’s mentioned it a couple of times on the phone,
but I wasn’t going to interrupt her jabbering for clarification. You know how
she gets if you barge in before she makes her point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And so, Yoyo’s in grad school or something.
I think he’s studying—”

My incoming call tone sounded while
she was revealing the coffee shop employee’s chosen educational path, but I
didn’t want to ask her to repeat it. Instead, I took a small sip of my wine and
listened while Olivia explained why our parents were entitled to pursue
whatever flirtations and fantasies caught their eye.

“I mean, it’s not like they’re
going to run off with an aerobics instructor or barista,” she said, coming to
the end of her rant. “They’re too levelheaded for such dramatic changes this
late in life.”

“Time will tell. And speaking of
time, I hate to cut this short, but I have about a dozen more invoices to process
before I can call it a night.”

“I just wanted to give you a quick buzz
to see if mom had cajoled you into signing the petition.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said.
“I’ll call her tomorrow, but I won’t let her know that we talked tonight.”

“Okay, but don’t call between nine
and noon their time,” Olivia advised.

“Why not?”

“Water aerobics runs from nine to
ten,” she said. “And then mom meets her girlfriends for morning coffee at
ten-thirty.”

“Well, why can’t I call her while
dad’s in his aerobics class?”

My sister heaved a sigh. “Because
she’s now taking the class, too. I guess she figured that he wouldn’t do
anything
too
shameless if she was bobbing in the pool beside him.”

CHAPTER
6

By ten o’clock that night, I was in
bed watching
The Notebook
for the six millionth time surrounded by a few
of my favorite things: a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream from Scoops of Joy, a
half dozen mini chocolate chip cookies and a reasonable number of peanut
M&Ms. There were only a few more minutes left in the movie when my phone
rang. I considered burying it under the blankets, but took a quick glance and
saw the only name that could tear me away from the heartwarming story of Noah
and Allie.

“Zack!” I said. “How are you,
handsome man?”

“I’m fine.” He laughed tenderly.
“You sound pretty wound up.”

“It might be the sugar,” I
confessed.

“Oh, babe. This late? How are you
ever going to get to sleep?”

I giggled. “Well, if you were
here…” I let him fill in the rest.

“Wish I was,” Zack said. “This
hotel room is amazing, but it’s kind of lonely with only me in it.”

“Should I catch the first flight
out in the morning?”

“Don’t tease me like that.”

“Okay,” I said, lowering my voice
to a smoky rasp. “There are plenty of other ways to get the job done.”

He laughed again. “Come on, Katie!
You’re not making this any easier.”

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I am pretty
wound up tonight. It was a
really
crazy day here.”

“I heard about your morning
adventure,” he said. “If that’s what you’re talking about.”

“What did you hear?”

“Ellie Sharp had a meeting with my
boss today,” he said. “She told Gretchen about stopping at your place for
breakfast this morning, and Gretchen told me.” He chuckled again. “Actually,
she told everyone on the conference call this afternoon, so don’t be surprised
if a few people in town mention the drunk guy ordering a scotch at Sky High.”

“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically. “I
can see the appeal. It’s
such
a hilarious story.”

“Don’t be mad, babe. It
is
pretty memorable.”

“I suppose so,” I said. “But it’s
also kind of sad and tragic. Boris Hertel’s a really sweet man.”

“Yeah? I haven’t met him, but I
also heard that his next stop after Sky High was Tipton’s Liquor Mart where he
proceeded to steal a—”

“Jeez! Did Gretchen blab that on
the conference call, too?”

“No, I heard that bit of news from
one of the
Gazette
reporters. He and I are working on a special feature
for the paper. We had a quick call today with the graphic artist and Joe
mentioned that he was…” Zack stopped and cleared his throat. “You know what,
babe? I didn’t call to talk about Crescent Creek gossip. I called to hear your
beautiful voice.”

“Ah…that’s sweet. Thank you,
handsome.”

“You’re welcome. So…tell me
something in your beautiful voice.”

I smiled. “What do you want to
hear?”

“Hmmmm…maybe you could do that sexy
French accent again and talk about all the ways you can tease me when I get
home.”

I purred like a kitten. Then I told
him a few ideas. And then we talked about how much we missed one another when
he traveled for work. After an interlude during which he described the enormous
Jacuzzi tub in his hotel room and explained a few things that two consenting
adults could do in it, I started giggling uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” Zack asked.

“You.”

“What?” he said. “What did I do
now?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetie. I
just…well, actually you
did
do something, but it’s totally wonderful.”

He rumbled a few more things about
the Jacuzzi. Then he apologized and said he had to cut short the call because
he was meeting an old college buddy in the bar at the hotel.

“Oh, that’s nice. Have I heard
about him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s his name?”

“Alice,” Zack said.

“That’s a strange name for an old
college buddy.”

“Not really. We were good friends
when we were in school. She and her husband live out here now, so they’re
meeting me for a nightcap.”

“Oh, her husband, too?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Katie. Her
husband, too.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Otherwise,
I’d have to worry about you and your old college buddy taking that big Jacuzzi
out for a spin.”

“No, you most definitely would
not!” he said firmly. “I’m a one-woman man, Katie. And that woman is you.”

I closed my eyes, fell back into
the pillows and felt the bowl of M&Ms cascade all around me under the
covers.

“I’m so glad to hear that news,” I
said, scooping up the runaway candy. “And I better let you go, babe. I just spilled
M&Ms all over the bed.”

He laughed, told me that he loved
me and whispered one more sweet nothing before hanging up.

CHAPTER
7

Julia and I were working on a large
breakfast order in the Sky High kitchen the next morning when Harper appeared
in the pass window.

“How’re we doing on that food?” she
asked. “The threadheads are getting restless.”

“Threadheads?” Julia said.

Harper bobbed her head toward the
dining room. “Camille Gribben and her band of quilters. They haven’t eaten much
since yesterday at noon.”

“Why on earth not?” I asked.

“Some kind of crazy competition,”
Harper explained. “The president of the quilting guild in Cortez sent out a
challenge to everyone on her email list. She dared them to finish a full-size
quilt in twenty-four hours. They’re going to raffle the results off for a group
that helps vets.”

Julia laughed as she folded crisp
bacon bits into an order of scrambled eggs.

“Didn’t they stop to eat at all?” I
asked.

Harper shrugged. “Diet Coke, Tic
Tacs and Slim Jims. Not exactly a healthy, balanced diet.”

“Well, it was only for one night,”
I said with a smile. “And it sounds like it was for a good cause.”

The bell on the front door chimed.
I looked through the pass window across the dining room as Dee Whitaker waved
and motioned for me to come out of the kitchen. A married mother of three, Dee
was a 45-year-old chatterbox who worked as the executive assistant to Mayor Washington.
Her position at City Hall afforded her the inside scoop on matters both large
and small. The look on her face suggested that she hadn’t stopped by to order
cookies for an upcoming meeting.

“Can you handle it from here?” I
asked Julia.

She rolled her eyes. “You should
know by now that I can handle anything, Katie.”

I squeezed her shoulder, gave
Harper an estimate on the order for Camille Gribben’s group and then made my
way out of the kitchen. Dee was waiting for me just inside the front door,
glancing furtively around the dining room and gripping her purse straps with
both hands.

“Hi, Katie,” she said quietly. “Is
there somewhere we can talk?”

“Other than right here?”

She frowned. “It’s about the hit
list,” she whispered. “I want to be discreet.”

“Hit list?”

She pressed one finger to her lips.
“Hush! Let’s go somewhere private.”

As soon as I closed the office door
a moment later, Dee opened her purse and pulled out a sheet of yellow paper. I
noticed a large coffee stain along the bottom of the creased page as she opened
it and eased slowly into one of the chairs by my desk.

“I took notes,” she said. “Mainly
because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”

I walked behind the desk and sat
down. Then I asked her to tell me what she’d heard.

“Marla Soble,” she said. “Do you
know her?”

I smiled. “Not really, but the
name’s been coming up a lot lately.”

Dee sneered at my comment.
“Lately?” she said. “Marla’s name has been coming up for
years
. And it’s
never been anything good.”

Since I didn’t have personal
experience with Marla Soble and I needed to get back to the kitchen, I decided
not to debate the point. Instead, I suggested that Dee enlighten me on the most
recent gossip.

“Well, first of all, have you seen
the woman’s skirts?”

I shook my head.

“They’re like the size of a postage
stamp!” Dee said. “Teeny, tiny scraps that leave nothing to the imagination.”

“Well, if Marla’s in really good
shape maybe she’s proud of her body.”

“Proud?” Dee’s voice had more
sizzle than a skillet filled with frying bacon. “It’s gratuitous and naughty
and…” She stopped to take a breath. Her face was pink and one side of her mouth
was quivering uncontrollably. “Did you hear about the time she was wearing one
of those scraps and the wind came up?”

“Must’ve been shocking,” I said,
trying not to grin.

“Shocking! The whole world got a
look at her caboose! And her tattoo!”

I waited again while Dee calmed
down. Then I asked if she’d come by to discuss Marla’s wardrobe choices and
ink-bedecked backside or another subject.

“I wanted to tell you about the hit
list!” Dee gushed. “I overheard Marla and Ira talking about it at Smitty’s Cash
& Carry last night.”

“Ira Pemberton?”

“Well, of course, Katie! Is there
another Ira in town?”

I shrugged. “Just trying to keep
the facts straight.”

She licked her lips anxiously. “I
know. And I’m sorry. This is…well, the really strange thing is that I’d already
heard about the list from Boris Hertel’s son.” She smiled. “I should clarify
that to be as accurate as possible. Kevin Hertel came to see the mayor about a
new business he plans to open in town. But then he mentioned that he’d received
some type of threatening note. I suppose he was looking for advice about how to
handle the situation. Anyway, Kevin and Mayor Washington were discussing things
and I happened to be right outside the mayor’s door at the time.”

I nodded. “What did Kevin share
with the mayor?”

“Well, it was really kind of
strange,” Dee said. “And I couldn’t quite catch everything because Kevin’s
voice kept getting softer and louder, softer and louder. But the first thing I
could understand was something about dog biscuits or dog toys or something.”

“Minty Dog Chews?”

She looked at me through a jittery
smirk. “Minty
what
?”

“It doesn’t matter. Go on with your
story.”

“Okay, so…” She adjusted her
position in the chair. “…the mayor was most interested in what Kevin was saying
about death threats. He asked a bunch of questions, and the next thing I heard
was three names: Ira Pemberton, some woman and a guy named Carver.”

“Could it have been Carter Devane?”

She frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know.
Sounded like Carver to me, but there were a few other people in the hall right
about then. Made it kind of hard to hear very well.”

“Sure,” I said with a wink. “Not to
mention that they interrupted your eavesdropping.”

She finally relaxed enough to
smile. “I know, right? Don’t you just
hate
that?”

“Completely. So…back to what you
heard.”

“Well, Mayor Washington told Kevin
that he’d check with somebody over at the CCPD. But then Kevin said maybe they
shouldn’t because he’d run into Marla at Scoops of Joy and they got to talking
about the hit list and she told Kevin not to tell a soul or—”

“Sorry, Dee. Can you slow down a
bit? You’re getting kind of worked up and I don’t want to miss the finer points
of what you’re saying.”

She scoffed. “Finer points? There’s
nothing fine about Marla Soble. Except maybe the pointy end of her horns.”

I smiled. “But you’re certain that
Kevin told the mayor about the exchange with Marla?”

She nodded.

“And Ira Pemberton was talking to
Marla Soble about the rhyming hit list?”

She held up one hand. “What do you
mean ‘rhyming’ hit list?”

“Oh, sorry. If you haven’t actually
seen it, then you—”

“And you
have
?”

“It’s a long story,” I explained. “Long
and pretty weird. But I think both you and I are on the same page with this
thing. We both want to do what’s right to protect the people mentioned on the
list from harm.”

She snickered and one eyebrow
lifted. “Is Marla on the list?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Okay,” Dee said. “Then you’re
right; we’re both on the same page.”

“I thought so. But I’m curious
about something.”

“What’s that?”

“Why’d you come to Sky High this
morning to tell me all of this? Why didn’t you go to see Deputy Chief Walsh or
maybe Dina Kincaid at the CCPD?”

She folded her notes and put them
back in her purse. Then she came out with a second piece of yellow paper.

“Because of this,” she said. “It’s
my day to pick up lunch for the office. Everyone wanted Sky High goodies for
dessert, so…” She laughed again. “It’s ‘two birds, one scone,’ Katie.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense!”

“Besides,” Dee added, “Blanche
Speltzer told me to come see you if I ever heard about anything truly odd or
suspicious in town. She said that you’d be able to do some snooping around
because you used to work as a private detective.”

“That’s true. I did that in Chicago
before moving back to Crescent Creek.”

“Well, thank goodness you did,” she
said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Trent Walsh and Dina Kincaid both do really
good work to serve and protect, but sometimes there’s nothing like an
independent, feisty woman to help snoop around and find the truth.”