Read When Magic Is Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 4) Online

Authors: Mary Maxwell

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Women Sleuths

When Magic Is Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (4 page)

BOOK: When Magic Is Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 4)
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CHAPTER
6

 

 

My call to Zack went right to
voicemail. I quickly told him there was a change in plans and suggested that we
meet for dinner at eight. “I’m still at Crescent Creek Lodge,” I explained. “It
was supposed to be a quick in-and-out delivery, but I got caught up in
something. I’ll tell you all about it later. See you at Luigi’s at eight,
handsome!”

When Zack and I met a few weeks
earlier, the attraction had been mutual and instantaneous. I wasn’t exactly
looking for a relationship; my heart had been shattered into a million pieces
by a man I’d dated in Chicago. In fact, he was part of the reason I agreed to
return to Colorado and take over the family business. Meeting Zack seemed like
one of those times in life when a simple twist of fate was undeniable. He was
the freelance photographer assigned to take my picture for a feature article in
the local newspaper. He was good-looking, smart, funny, charming and prone to
selfless gestures that made my heart hum with joy. After having coffee a couple
of times, we both realized that the connection between us was genuine and
irrefutable.

After leaving the message for Zack
and returning a few calls about upcoming Sky High catering jobs, I decided to
use the unexpected downtime for a little retail therapy. Since my Nana Reed had
introduced me to the concept when I was in middle school, I would often go
window shopping or search websites whenever I wanted to get away from the rest
of the world. “It’s harmless,” my grandmother would always say, “as long as you
leave your credit cards at home!” Of course, Nana Reed’s version of retail
therapy didn’t include an endless parade of online shops, but I still recalled
her advice whenever I idly clicked my way from one site to the next.

Twenty minutes later, while I
scrolled through a selection of roll-on beaded bracelets from my favorite Etsy
shop, I heard Dina’s heels clattering across the lobby’s slate floor.

“Thanks for waiting, Kate.” She
plopped down on the loveseat where I’d been camped since leaving Connie’s
office. “I appreciate you being so willing to help.”

“As always,” I said.

“I know, but I don’t want you to
think we take you for granted. It isn’t often that one of our witnesses is a
former PI.”

I smiled. “I guess it’s your lucky
day, huh?”

She nodded and pulled out her
notepad. While I watched, she flipped through the pages until she came to one
that had Eloise’s name at the top.

“Okay,” she said. “Eloise actually
remembered a few more interesting things after you left.”

“Oh?”

“She saw someone hurrying away from
the garden area before she walked down to the gazebo,” Dina said. “She didn’t
see her face, but the woman was wearing a red down jacket and black leggings.”

“That’s a start,” I said. “But it’s
not exactly a detailed description.”

Dina’s mouth quivered briefly,
hesitating between a frown and a smile. “Like you said, Katie. It’s a place to
start.”

“What else did Eloise tell you?”

“Hmmm…” Dina glanced at her notes.
“She had an argument with her boyfriend last night, something about how much
time he spends with his ex-wife. They were supposed to get together and talk it
out today.” She paused to skim down the page. “Here we go! Eloise told me that
she was ambushed by a rude hotel guest a few minutes before she went into the
gardens to clear her head.”

“Yeah, she told us both that one
earlier.”

Dina nodded. “Oh, and she heard
raised voices from the parking area as she walked toward the gazebo. It was a
couple of people shouting, but she couldn’t tell if it was a man and woman or
two women.”

After scanning the notes and
flipping through a few more pages, Dina put the pad in her lap. “And what about
you, Kate?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you
asking if I heard someone arguing in the parking lot?”

“No,” Dina said. “Why were you here
this afternoon?”

“Delivering three dozen cupcakes
for a party.”

“One of the birthdays?”

I shook my head. “Bachelorette
party.”

“Oh, right.” Dina went back to the
notepad, scribbling something on a blank page. “This place was going to be
pretty busy tonight.”

“It really was,” I said sadly. “And
thank goodness Connie could make arrangements to move the parties.”

Dina smiled. “It’s the prudent
thing to do,” she said. “I mean, who wants to whoop it up while our forensics
team is dusting for prints and searching the hotel?”

“Right, that makes perfect sense.”

She tapped the pen against the tip
of her nose as she flipped through her notes again.

“Oh, there was one thing,” I said,
remembering the potential evidence I’d noticed earlier. “Did you see the cup
and paper sleeve near the gazebo?” I asked. “The ones from Uncommon Grounds?”

Dina nodded. “Bagged and tagged,”
she said. “And, of course, I plan to ask Bitsy Sanger if she was here this
afternoon.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “But maybe
someone wrote the wrong date on the cup. It could’ve actually been from
yesterday.”

Dina shook her head. “Doubtful,”
she said. “Connie assured me that her maintenance guy had been working
diligently for the past three days to keep the garden walkways and flower beds
free of litter and debris. They had a class come through from the grade school
on Monday for a field trip. Apparently, those little guys left quite a mess in
their wake.”

I didn’t see any value in
discussing the messiness of small children, so I made another suggestion. “Then
maybe it was someone else named Bitsy.”

Dina nodded solemnly and made a
note. “I suppose it could be. I knew an Elizabeth in college; her family called
her Bitsy. It’s a common enough nickname.”

“And if that’s the case,” I said,
“you’d need to consider interviewing all of the women by that name here in
town.”

“That’s a pretty big group,” Dina
said. “Although I’ve got to ID the victim before I do anything else.”

“You didn’t find a wallet?”

She shook her head. “His pockets
were empty,” Dina answered. “With the exception of this tag.” She pulled a
translucent evidence bag from her pocket. “It looks like some sort of code or
acronym.”

“May I?”

She gave me the bag and I held it
up for inspection. The item inside was a square of white paper with bright red
string looped through a hole in one end. The code that Dina had referred to was
a series of letters, numbers and symbols. On one side, printed in black ink,
the cipher read:
AN914$80<$65
. On the other, someone had used a green
marker to write a similar notation:
PW1215/70
. As a frequent shopper at
Becca Hancock’s vintage clothing store near the center of town, I instantly
recognized the tag and code.

“This is from Timeless Gold,” I
said.

Dina raised her eyebrows. “The
thrift store?”

“Not thrift,” I said. “Vintage.
There’s a big difference, and Becca knows her stuff. She handpicks everything
for the shop. I’ve found some amazing goodies there since I moved back from
Chicago.”

“Such as?”

“A classic Chanel jacket,” I said.
“It cost a pretty penny, but in Chicago it would’ve been three or four times as
much.”

Dina held out her hand and I gave
her the evidence envelope. Then she studied the small paper tag. “So, if this
is from Becca’s store…” She paused, glancing over at me. “Then maybe our John
Doe was a customer.”

“Maybe,” I said. “It’s possible he
bought the tuxedo from Becca. I remember seeing two or three in the men’s
section there a few weeks ago.”

She held up the tag. “So? What do
these letters and numbers mean?”

I quickly explained Becca’s code.
The initials and numbers in black referred to the employee who had priced the
garment and the date it was added to the store’s inventory. The first dollar
amount was the price when the item went on the rack. The less-than symbol and
figure indicated the lowest possible amount in case someone tried to negotiate
on the item. The entry in green ink documented the employee who sold the item
as well as the date and amount.

“I don’t follow,” said Dina. “Do
you mean that people can bargain with Becca and try to pay less than she’s
asking for something?”

I nodded. “It’s not uncommon.
Especially with some vintage clothing stores. Becca knows what things are
worth. And she knows what she needs to sell them for in order to make a
profit.”

Dina flashed a tired smile. “Thanks
for filling me in, Katie. I’ll stop by Becca’s store tomorrow and see if she
remembers selling the tuxedo to our vic.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Let me know
if there’s anything else I can do.”

“You know I will,” she said. “I’ll
see you around.”

CHAPTER
7

 

 

The cool air felt refreshing as I
walked out to my car. The chaos and confusion of the past few hours had left me
feeling drained and weighed down by the heaviness of the mood throughout the
Lodge. It felt good to be surrounded by the hushed simplicity of early evening.
But as I reveled in the quiet moment, a woman’s voice came from nearby.

“Well, hello again,” she said with
a haughty pitch. “It really
is
a small world, isn’t it?”

When I turned around, I saw
Francine Tobin, the snobbish attorney who had stopped at Sky High earlier in
the day. I forced myself to smile as she came closer. There was a man trailing
behind her a few paces. He looked like one of the athletic models that
advertisers use to peddle cologne, leather jackets and sports cars. His
complexion looked impossibly smooth and his full lips were like sculpted swoops
of pink dough. His hair was thick and wavy, molded to his head with what seemed
gallons of something glossy. He was dressed in faded jeans, hiking boots and a
navy shawl-collar sweater.

“Did you come to chat about our
offer?” Francine said, casting a quick glance at Mr. Handsome.

My face hurt from holding the smile
in place, but I wasn’t going to let down my guard. “Um. No, I had a delivery to
make.”

She actually looked disappointed
for a brief moment before the icebergs reappeared in her eyes. “Well, I suppose
it won’t hurt for you two to meet.” Her frosty gaze bounced from me to the man
in the blue sweater. “Miss Reed,” she said with a flourish of theatrical
affectation. “This is Mr. Christopher Edgerly.”

He offered his hand. When our
fingers touched, I wasn’t surprised by the glove-soft skin. He looked like the
kind of guy who slept in cocoa butter to preserve his youthful glow.

“It’s most definitely a pleasure,”
he said in a smoky British accent. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

The smile on my face cracked. “To
what?” I asked. “Meeting me in the parking lot of the Crescent Creek Lodge?”

I didn’t expect his laugh to sound
so much like burled oak and steel. It was solid and brawny, fading into the
frosty air in slow, cascading rolls of cheerfulness.

“Well,
meeting
you,” he
said. “I hadn’t anticipated the
where
of it exactly.”

The
where
of it
, my
inner killjoy sniped.
Does he think we’re in a Hugh Grant movie or
something?

“Okay, so…” I glanced at Francine
Tobin. She looked like an unhappy elf who’d just learned that Santa Claus isn’t
hiring for the season. “It was nice to see you again. But if you’ll excuse me,
it’s been a long day and I—”

“Mr. Edgerly is my client,” the
forlorn sprite announced. “He has great interest in acquiring your property,
Miss Reed.”

Aha!
chirped the voice in my
head.
Another mystery solved
.

“Yes, I had hoped we might sit down
over dinner to discuss my offer,” said the good-looking shark. “I’m most
interested in making it
very
worth your while, Kate.”

My first name sounded hollow and
tarnished coming from his collagen-enhanced lips. Even so, I managed to bolster
my withering grin into another gleaming smile as I explained that Sky High Pies
wasn’t on the market.

“What did you think of our
proposal?” asked Francine Tobin.

“Well…I think it’s still sitting
unopened on my desk,” I answered. “And, once again, that’s because Sky High
isn’t for sale. I’ve only just taken over from my parents, so—”

“Only just?” the attorney scoffed.
“It’s been
several
months, Miss Reed.”

I ignored her completely; my gaze
was locked on Christopher Edgerly’s translucent jade eyes. For a brief moment,
I felt the magnetism of his splendor, the undeniable allure of his gorgeous
appearance. But then I snapped out of it and told them both that I was
exhausted and would take a look at the proposal soon as a courtesy.

“Soon?” Edgerly smiled. “As
in…tonight?”

I shrugged. “It will probably be
tomorrow, actually. I’ve had a long day. And I’m meeting someone for dinner in
a few minutes.”

“Very well,” said Francine Tobin.
“In that case, I’ll plan on calling you the day after tomorrow. Mr. Edgerly and
I will be conducting business in Crescent Creek for the rest of the week, but
we’ll clear our calendar the moment you’re ready to sign the papers.”

As they walked away toward the
hotel’s front entrance, I got into my car and started the engine. Then I leaned
my head on the steering wheel, took a deep breath and counted to ten.

I know what you’re thinking
,
my inner voice whispered.
And I know it rhymes with rich!

CHAPTER 8

 

 

Since the shortest route to Luigi’s
Ristorante went by Uncommon Grounds, I decided to make a quick stop and satisfy
my curiosity about something. If Dean Oxford was behind the counter, I could
ask him confidentially about Bitsy Sanger. He was the owner of the popular java
joint and one of my favorite fellow entrepreneurs; trading tips on new
suppliers and vendors had become a monthly tradition since I took over Sky High
earlier in the year.

“Hey, Katie,” he said as I
navigated the crowded coffee shop. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, thanks. How are you?”

He raised both hands and imitated
the oscillating motion of a teeter-totter. “Jeremiah quit without notice,” he
mumbled. “And somebody put an entire roll of paper towels into the toilet in
the men’s room.”

I winced. “So sorry to hear the
news,” I said. “Especially about the clogged-up toilet.”

“It’s clear now!” Dean grinned
triumphantly. “Thanks to Homer Dratch!”

“Ah, the best plumber in the
world!”

“And the richest,” Dean joked.
“From what he charges. But I’m not really complaining. I was grateful he could
swing by so quickly and help me out.”

I nodded. “You feel like fixing me
a decaf cappuccino?”

“Sure thing. Regular or flavored?”

“I’ll go with regular, please. And
make it a small. I drank about a gallon of coffee when I was over at the Lodge
this afternoon.”

“Yeah?” Dean started to work on my
drink, grinding beans and tamping the results into the portafilter. “How’s
Connie doing?”

I didn’t like being the bearer of
bad news, but I wanted to be honest. I told Dean about the body. I told him that
the police were conducting the official investigation. And then I mentioned
that there was a cup from his place at the scene. When he heard that final
detail, his cheerful grin went flat.

“Wow! Do you think…”

I shrugged. “It could be a
coincidence.”

“Was it marked?” asked Dean. “Or
was it blank?”

“It had today’s date,” I told him.
“Along with the name Bitsy.”

I saw the flash of recognition in
his eyes. “I’ve been here since we opened,” he said. And I remember that order.
It was the only soy latte so far today.”

“Was it Bitsy Sanger?”

Dean shook his head. “No, it was a
redhead that I’ve never seen before. When she ordered a skinny soy latte and
told me her name, I did a huge double take.” He chuckled softly. “I mean, it’s
a small town. And as far as I knew, there’s only one Bitsy living in Crescent
Creek. It just seemed like an interesting coincidence for someone with the very
same first name to order a skinny soy latte.”

“Because that’s Bitsy Sanger’s
favorite?”

“Yep. It’s actually the
only
thing she orders.”

“And she wasn’t in today?”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, the
skinny soy latte earlier was ordered by a redhead. She was wearing some of
those stretchy yoga pants, running shoes and a parka.”

“Sounds comfortable,” I said,
smiling.

“Suppose so.”

“Did you talk to her at all?”

He answered by rolling his eyes.
“They were six deep at the counter, Katie. And, like I told you, the toilet was
overflowing and Jeremiah had screwed me over. On top of that, Reverend Tuttle
was here with his weekday Bible group, so the place was packed.”

“Sounds like it was kind
of…hectic?” I offered a sympathetic smile as Dean put my cappuccino on the
counter.

“You can say that again. It was
busy and people weren’t happy about the hall over there being flooded.” He
shrugged. “Not that I could do much about it besides keep running back with a
mop.”

“Right,” I said. “Or close down
until Homer came to the rescue.”

Dean finally managed a weary smile.
“Which he did, actually. Right about the time that redhead in the stretchy
pants was leaving.”

“With the soy latte marked
Bitsy
?”

When I reached into my pocket, he
waved one hand and said it was on the house. Then he said, “Oh, yeah! I almost
forgot—the redhead stopped to talk to someone from the Bible group.”

“Do you recall who it was?”

He frowned. “I wish I could, Katie.
But Homer was coming in, two old guys were arguing over by the window there
and…” A groan finished the list. “You know how it goes? Some days are crazier
than others.”

“Yeah, of course. And don’t sweat
it; Reverend Tuttle comes into Sky High just about every day, so I can ask if
he happened to know the woman.”

“Cool,” Dean said with a grin. “Why
are you so interested in the redhead?”

“I was just curious about
something,” I said. “It’s an old habit from my days in Chicago.”

“Oh, right! I get that; once a
detective, always a detective.”

“Much to the consternation of some
people named Trent Walsh.”

Dean chuckled. “He was in this
morning.”

“How was Deputy Chief Walsh?” I
asked. “Did he mind his manners?”

“Always. He and Dina were in with
some guy from Denver.”

“Oh, really? I wonder if it was
Adam Caldwell.”

Trent had introduced me to Adam
when I was conducting another recent investigation as a favor to my neighbor.
Besides being a nice guy with impeccable manners, Adam Caldwell was a top-notch
detective with the Denver Police Department.

“I didn’t catch his name,” Dean
said. “It looked like they were discussing police business, so I didn’t try to
make small talk.”

“Wise choice,” I said. “Trent can
get pretty crabby if you—”

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“—interrupt him when it’s a serious
conversation.”

“Hey, if you don’t mind, I should
take this,” he said, glancing at the screen. “Good seeing you, Katie! I’ll have
to stop by soon for breakfast or lunch.”

“Or a slice of pie!” I said,
heading for the door.

BOOK: When Magic Is Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 4)
13.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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