Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7) (10 page)

BOOK: Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7)
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CHAPTER
22

 

 

Later that evening, on the way home
from Food Town, I realized that I forgot to buy milk, so I decided to make a
quick stop at the MiniMart. A middle-aged woman that I didn’t know was behind
the counter, staring intently at the phone in her hand. She looked up from the
task and we shared a silent smile before I took a left at the beef jerky kiosk
and headed for the dairy case in the back of the store.

After comparing the dates on the
available half gallons, I plucked one from the cooler and turned around to
return to the cash register. I’d only taken a few steps when I noticed someone
wearing a battered pair of Carhartt bib overalls and a gray sweatshirt under a
loose-fitting blue jacket.

It was Ira Pemberton. He was
running one finger down the glass door of the beer cooler, peering intently at
the selection on the other side. The knuckles on his hand were bruised and
scraped, the crimson hue suggesting recent wounds. A large gauze pad was
secured to the back of his neck with white adhesive tape. I guessed it covered
the spot where the intruder had walloped him before setting fire to the body
shop.

I waited for a few seconds to see
if he’d look up. When his eyes remained fixed on the bottles and cans inside
the cooler, I approached slowly and spoke in a quiet, congenial tone.

“Excuse me,” I said gently. “Mr.
Pemberton?”

He looked up, squinting until he
recognized me. “It’s Kate, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Kate Reed. You and my
dad used to play cards in the—”

“That’s right! In the apartment upstairs
from your family’s café.” His face softened slightly; I imagined he was
thinking about a long ago night of poker and whiskey with my father and a few
other men from town. “How’s the old goat doing down there in Florida anyway?”

“He’s good…
really
good
actually! My mother, too. They’re both adjusting well to retired life.”

He chuckled. “Your old man probably
goes to the beach every day to ogle the girls in their teeny-weeny bikinis.”

I winced at the suggestion,
imagining my mother catching my father with his eyes glued on some slender woman’s
bronzed curves.

“Maybe I should give them a call,”
he said, glancing down at one sleeve of his jacket. “Take a trip and explore my
options.”

A long thread dangled from the
cuff. As he tugged on it distractedly, I followed the slack white cord to the
sleeve. The thread ended at a spot slightly below where an embossed button was
firmly attached. As his weathered fingers pulled on the thread, he shifted his
gaze back up with a smile.

“This is what happens when there’s
no woman in the house,” he said. “Everything goes to ruin.”

“That sounds like something my dad
would say,” I offered with a smile.

“Yeah, but he’s got your mother to
fix things like this.” The old man’s watery eyes narrowed and he slowly looped
the thread around his finger. “Not that I should care since this coat doesn’t
even belong to me. Marla’s kid left it at my place when they visited a couple
of nights ago. I couldn’t find my own, so I grabbed this.”

I nodded at the comment and asked
if he had the new phone number for my parents.

One hand touched his pocket. “Got
it on my smartphone,” he said with a bemused grin. “I’ve had the thing for
going on a year, but it hasn’t made me feel one lick wiser than before.”

We stood beside the beer cooler for
a brief moment. I was tempted to mention his daughter, but decided to leave
that alone since Rita had hinted at past trouble in the Pemberton family. His
smile softened slowly and I tried to think of how to address the elephant
huddled in the corner.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I
was to hear about the fire,” I said eventually.

His mouth twisted into a frown.
“Yeah…” His gaze tapered more as he stared at the selection of beer. “That was
quite a surprise alright.”

There was something about his tone
that seemed lifeless and flat. I wondered if he was still in shock from the
incident.
It’s only been a short time,
I thought as his hand reached for
the door handle.
He’s probably still walking around in a fog.

“How are you doing?” I asked. “I
mean, I heard they actually attacked you before setting the fire.”

His fingers drifted from the door
handle to the back of his head. “Clobbered me good, don’t you know. And it was
all because I was in the wrong place at not the right time.”

He chuckled softly. “But I’m tough,
Kate. I was unconscious for a few minutes, just flat on the floor in the office.
As soon as I came to, I ran out and…” He coughed and blinked. “I mean, as soon
as the firefighter helped me to my feet, I ran after the son of a bi—” His eyes
crinkled. “—the son of a biscuit, but it was too late. He was long gone and my
shop was lit up like a bonfire! I’ve never seen an inferno so close before, but
it’s really something! There were flames shooting out every window and through
the roof!”

I nodded. “Sounds absolutely
terrifying. It’s amazing the CCFD got there so quickly.”

“No doubt about that,” he agreed.
“I don’t know who made the 911 call, but I’m sure glad they did.”

His remark touched on something I
hadn’t heard about from Trent. I made a mental note to ask later who had called
to report the blaze.

“I guess that’s one good thing
about living in a place like Crescent Creek,” Ira said. “Although the flipside
is everybody whispering behind your back about matters that don’t have a thing
to do with them.” He paused and put one hand to his mouth. “Like the
misunderstanding with my wife and me all those years ago. It was none of their
business, but it sure didn’t stop the old witches from speculating.”

I forced a smile. I didn’t want to
dig into his dirty laundry, so I ignored the comment and invited him to stop by
Sky High sometime for a complimentary breakfast or lunch.

“That’s real neighborly of you,
Kate. I may just take you up on the offer.”

“I hope you will! Make sure you ask
Harper to tell me when you come by, okay? I’ll want to come out and say hello.”

“You bet,” he said, reaching again
for the cooler door. “I should probably buy my beer and skedaddle. Nice talking
to you, Kate.”

“You, too, Mr. Pemberton. I’ll look
forward to seeing you at Sky High soon.”

He mumbled a response and turned to
walk away. I kept my eyes on him for a few seconds, wondering again about where
the fire and Jacob Lowry’s murder intersected with Velma Lancaster’s BMW and
the stolen license plates from Utah.

“Must be a full moon,” I said to myself.
“Either that or Mercury’s in retrograde again.”

CHAPTER
23

 

 

I sent Trent a quick text as I
walked to the car from the MiniMart:
Who called 911 about Pemberton fire?

He replied within seconds:
Good
Samaritans. There were actually two calls.

I opened the car door, put the milk
on the seat and let my fingers fly:
Did you listen to the tapes? Do you know
who it was?

A couple of seconds later, as I
slipped the key into the ignition, my phone buzzed and Trent’s name flashed on
the screen. I swiped to accept the call and tucked the phone between my chin
and shoulder.

“Hey, Deputy Chief Walsh! Do you
know who made the calls?”

“You mean, like, names and addresses?”
he asked in a crotchety tone. “Or were you looking for favorite colors and shoe
sizes?”

I felt a flash of exasperation with
his attitude, but took a moment to let it soften. Then I said, “Sounds like
somebody’s in a cranky mood.”

“Nope. Just trying to be specific,
Katie.”

“In that case, a name would be
specific enough for the time being.”

He snickered. “Maybe they didn’t
identify themselves.”

“You sure?”

The phone crackled with static. I
waited until it passed, but Trent didn’t say anything.

“Hello?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still here.”

“How am I supposed to know? You
didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t know what
to
say.
My integrity and intelligence were both a little bruised by your—”

“Oh, c’mon, Trent! Cut the bull! I
was just trying to confirm something, not ruin your day.”

He laughed. “Gotcha! I was teasing
you, Katie.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever, big guy. Now,
back to the calls—two people reported Ira’s fire, but the dispatcher didn’t get
their names?”

“Actually, the first one was Duane
Schulte. He called after seeing the smoke.”

“And the second?” I asked. “Who
else called?”

“Well,” Trent said slowly, “we
didn’t get her name, but the second call came in about ten minutes later. The
voice was faint, but it was definitely a woman.”

“Anything in the background to
suggest where she was calling from?”

“Hmmm…” Trent grumbled briefly.
“I’d have to check with the techs. I only heard it a couple of times, and Tyler
Armstrong wrote the report. He talked to the dispatcher that night. Why don’t I
check with him and get back to you in the morning?”

“Works for me,” I said.

“Cool beans. What’s going on with
you this evening? The Zackinator’s out in Hollywood, right?”

I groaned. Trent had a habit of bestowing
silly nicknames every now and then with certain people. I’d never been sure if
the habit was motivated by sociability or a deep desire to disparage others.

“Yes, Zack’s in Los Angeles for
work.”

“Does that make you foot loose and
fancy free?”

“Not really,” I answered. “I’m
heading home to watch a movie.”

“Man, that sounds nice! Wish I was
that lucky.”

“What’s on your schedule?”

“Two words,” he said. “Paper and
work.”

“Poor guy.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said,
sounding less grouchy. “But I love the work, so I’ve got to love the paper.”

I laughed. “A match made in
heaven,” I said. “Have a good night, big guy.”

“You as well,” he said. “I’ll be in
touch tomorrow after I get a chance to ask Tyler about that 911 call.”

CHAPTER
24

 

 

By the time I got back to Sky High,
my mind was spinning through the conversation with Rita at Burger & Brew. I
parked in back and climbed the stairs to my apartment. Then I slipped out of my
jacket, kicked off my shoes and flopped into one of the living room chairs.
After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, I dialed Blanche Speltzer, leaned
back against the cushion and closed my eyes.

“Katie!” she said after a brittle
click
.
“What can I help you with, dear?”

She sounded breathless and jittery,
so I asked if I’d called at a bad time.

“Well, I’m racing around getting
ready for my guests,” she answered. “But I can talk for a second or two.”

“I can call tomorrow if you’re
expecting company.”

She laughed. “It’s just Marla Soble
and her son. She and I had planned on having a girls’ night, but I guess Matt’s
feeling kind of needy. Poor thing! I remember when he was my student; a misfit loner
lusting after girls that wouldn’t give him the time of day.” She sighed at the
memory. “Anyway, the three of us are going to have a little dessert and watch
The
Bachelor
finalé.”

“It’s already the last show? Julia usually
tells me about it the morning after. I didn’t realize the season was coming to
a close.”

Blanche chuckled again. “It already
did! I taped it last week, so this is my…oh, heavens! Never mind about that,
Katie! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why do you—”

“Because you sound kind of anxious.”

“Oh, well…” I reached down and
unbuttoned my jeans to stop the waistband from slicing me in two. “I just ate a
big burger and every last French fry.”

“From your lips to your hips, my
dear,” Blanche said with a giggle. “Although that does sound pretty darn good.”

“It was delicious. I stopped by Burger
& Brew. Zack’s out of town and I didn’t feel like cooking for one.”

“I understand that perfectly well,”
she said. “Now, what can I help you with?”

“Ira Pemberton’s daughter.”

Blanche jeered. “Yuck! She’s nothing
I want to discuss, Katie. I lived through that nightmare years ago with Ira and
his late wife.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, sweet child. There’s not
enough time right now to go into great detail. Let me see…how can I summarize
the whole sordid affair?”

“If it’s too complicated, why don’t
we talk tomorrow?”

“Hang on there,” Blanche said. “I’m
going up to Boulder in the morning with a couple of the girls from bridge.
Probably best to give you the skinny now if you need to know.”

“Well, just the highlights, maybe?”

“The highlights, huh? How about
this—Ira’s daughter accused him of cheating on her mother as part of a
blackmail scheme.”

My mouth dropped open. “Oh. My.
Goodness.”

“Uh-huh. And none of it was true.
Ira loved his wife until the day she died. Never once even
looked
at
another woman. I used to have lunch with her every so often, and it was always
‘Ira’s so wonderful,’ ‘Ira’s such a dream,’ ‘Do you want to know what Ira did
for me this week?’”

“Sounds like true love.”

“From the second they met,” Blanche
said. “And the fact that their daughter turned out to be so…well, just insensitive
and rude, Katie. Despite the fact that some folks say she’s changed now, I
still remember her as a wicked little fiend trying to manipulate her parents
out of spite. I guess the whole thing started when her father refused to buy
her the kind of sports car one of her girlfriends had.”

“I’m surprised that my mother or
sister never told me about any of this.”

“Not too many folks know the real
story,” Blanche said. “And it was so truly shocking that most people were too
polite to rehash the whole scandalous affair after Velma left town.”

The name hit me like a left hook.
“What was that?”

Blanche repeated the last part of
her sentence.

“Her name is Velma?”

“Yes, dear.”

“The same Velma that I saw with
Boris Hertel at Poke-A-Dot?” I asked. “A tall, attractive brunette with long
legs and more confidence than anyone could ever need?”

“Sounds like her,” Blanche said.
“Velma is a very striking woman, although she’s amplified her natural beauty
over the years with quite a few tucks and tweaks.”

“I’m just…” I hesitated, trying to
wrap my mind around the fact that the slightly hostile woman in the bar with
Boris was also Ira Pemberton’s daughter. “I’m just surprised that my mother
never told me about her.”

“I’m not,” Blanche said. “She’s
older than you, dear. And all of the bad blood between Velma and her father
happened a long time ago. Why are you asking about her anyway?”

“Well, someone else told me that Jacob
Lowry and Kevin Hertel were talking about her,” I said. “But I never realized
the woman in the silver BMW was Ira’s daughter.”

“Oh, goodness,” Blanche said in a
hushed, sad tone. “I can see how that would come as a bit of a surprise.” She
clucked softly. “And that poor Jacob Lowry. I haven’t been able to stop
thinking about him since I heard the news.”

“That makes two of us,” I said.

“It’s a horrible thing, Katie.
Whenever one person takes another’s life, it’s just…well, I believe it’s a
crime against all of humanity.”

“I agree with you. A crime against
humanity and an irrevocable tragedy.”

“Did that person tell you what they
said about her?” asked Blanche.

“Sorry? What person?”

“Whoever told you that Jacob and
Kevin were talking about Velma?”

“Not really. We didn’t get into too
much detail. But she was certain Jacob and Kevin were discussing Ira’s daughter.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Blanche
quipped.

“What do you mean?”

“Those three were nothing but
trouble when they were growing up, especially that Velma! Besides the stunt she
pulled with her parents, she was caught shoplifting more than once and I recall
a particularly colorful incident when she painted obscene graffiti on the exterior
of her uncle’s house.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I’m not going to say it aloud,
Katie. It was a bunch of filthy words and especially crude drawings of a man
and a woman performing a
very
adult act.”

“Okay, I think I get the picture.”

“In the end, when Velma cranked
things up way behind teenage mischief and tried to blackmail her own father,
that was the last straw. Her parents threatened to disown her and throw her out
of the house.”

“And what happened?”

Blanche laughed. “Velma beat them
to the punch. She took the money that her mother kept squirreled away in the
kitchen cabinet, packed a suitcase and headed to California.”

“Was this before or after Jacob and
Kevin had started at Berkeley?”

“After,” Blanche said. “Velma never
even applied to go to college. She was somehow convinced that her father would
cave and write her a big check.”

“So she was an angry, delusional
teenager looking for a quick payday?”

“Probably still is,” Blanche said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with the anonymous threats
going around town.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Money, Katie. It’s the root of all
evil.”

“I thought the root of all evil was
Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.”

“It can be! But money’s much worse.
It causes sane people to go bonkers.”

“And you think Velma fits into that
category?”

“Yes, based on what I’ve heard over
the years,” Blanche said. “After she ran away from Crescent Creek, she landed
in Sacramento. Her Greyhound stopped there to refuel and Velma met a handsome older
man at the McDonald’s next to the bus depot.”

“The PI that she eventually married?”


Eventually
? That girl moves
quicker than a fox chasing chickens! She met the guy, wrapped him around her
little pinky and they were buying new china and living room furniture in less
than a week.”

“What was his story?”

“Blind fool with no common sense,”
Blanche said. “And the guy works as a private detective, Katie. You’d think that
he would have more on the ball than the average guy. Know what I mean? If he
spent his working hours helping to uncover the truth for his clients, he
should’ve been able to do the same thing for himself. Their marriage has been a
roller coaster ride, sometimes on, sometimes off. Who knows where it stands
today?”

“Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly
when they first met,” I said. “On account of Velma’s dazzling beauty and her
feminine ways.”

“And her skintight wardrobe,”
Blanche said with a sharp tone. “Not to mention the buckets of makeup and a
moral compass that always pointed straight south to you-know-where.”

“Dallas?” I quipped.

Blanche snorted. “No, Katie! Not Dallas!”

“I know what you meant. I was just
trying to—”

“Work my last nerve?”

I winced. Then I apologized. And
then I listened as Blanche gave me a few more details about the tawdry past of
Ira Pemberton’s estranged daughter. She described a few fragmented
conversations that she’d had with Ira’s wife about the situation, brief
exchanges over coffee at Java & Juice or in the produce aisle at Food Town.
“Her heart was just broken in two by the whole thing,” Blanche said finally.
“Between the anxiety that Ira really had cheated on her and their daughter
trying to blackmail her husband, I wasn’t surprised at all that her health
failed not too long after that.”

“Are you telling me that Ira and his
daughter haven’t talked since Velma left town?”

Blanche snickered. “That would be
the most logical outcome, but Velma actually saw the error of her ways about
five years ago. She came back to see her dad, but he refused to even let her in
the front door. After three or four failed attempts, Velma asked Marla Soble to
intervene.”

“Ira’s girlfriend?”

“That’s one way to describe her,”
Blanche said. “Another would be gold digger. And a third would be grifter. I
know it probably seems crazy that I’m friendly with the woman, but I promised her
dear mother that I wouldn’t cut Marla out of my life.”

“Are you saying that Marla’s kind
of shady?”

“Not ‘kind of,’ Katie.
Very
shady. The woman’s as crooked as the Colorado River! And her son’s just as
ornery! He can match his mama’s every twist and turn when it comes to figuring
out how to get maximum returns on minimum investments!”

“Well, how do they compare to Ira’s
daughter?” I asked. “Velma certainly seemed…well,
aggressive
is one way
to describe her behavior at the Poke-A-Dot.”

Blanche scoffed. “Aggressive? How
about immoral? Or depraved? I mean, what kind of young woman accuses her father
of having an affair and then trying to blackmail him to keep the news from her
mother?”

I didn’t have an answer, so I
suggested that it was always possible that Velma Lancaster had changed her ways
somewhere along the line.

“A leopard doesn’t change its
spots, Katie.”

“Velma isn’t a leopard,” I said.

“True enough. She’s a wicked witch,
a corrupt and wanton floozy who—”

The doorbell chimed, sending my
heart into my throat.

“Is that someone at your door?”
asked Blanche.

“I guess so.” I jumped out of the
chair and hurried across the room. “Do you mind holding for a sec?”

“I’ll wait,” she said. “Although if
you’re expecting a gentleman caller, then maybe I should let you go.”

“My only gentleman caller is in California
this week,” I said. “And I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

I lowered the phone, pressed my eye
to the peephole and squinted. It was Boris Hertel, peering at the door from
beneath the hood of a rain slicker.

“Can I get back to you later?” I
asked Blanche.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s Boris Hertel. I’m not
sure what he wants, but he looks pretty distressed.”

The doorbell clanged once more.

“And he sounds pretty impatient,”
Blanche said. “I’ll talk to you later, Katie. Tell Boris that I said hello.”

“Okay, I will. And please give my
regards to Marla. I’m probably going to be talking to her soon about this whole
mess, but don’t mention that part.”

As I dropped the call and slid the
phone into my pocket, Boris rang the bell again.

“Please open the door, Miss Reed,”
he rasped. “Someone wants to kill my son, and we think you can help stop them.”

BOOK: Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7)
8.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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