A Zest for Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Read online

  A Zest for Murder

  Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries / 5

  Mary Maxwell

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  © 2016 Mary Maxwell 03062016

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recorded or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  NANA REED’S SKY HIGH RECIPES

  CHAPTER 1

  “She wants what? And she wants it when?”

  Julia’s face looked like a bright red balloon: quivering crimson cheeks, simmering frown and eyes wide with disbelief. It was late afternoon at Sky High Pies, the bakery café that I run in Crescent Creek, Colorado. Our longtime chef was leaning against the counter near the sink, coffee in one hand and a blueberry scone in the other. We’d been rushing around the kitchen since before dawn, filling orders for breakfast and lunch customers while also juggling special bakery requests and a half dozen pies for a catering delivery.

  When I’d returned to the kitchen from my office a few minutes earlier, gingerly announcing that one of our regular customers had suddenly changed her order again, Julia had been in the middle of measuring ingredients for a double batch of Toffee Coffee Brownies. We’d talked about it briefly, and I thought everything had been resolved. But she was upset all over again, so I listened patiently as the rant resumed.

  “Does Tipper Hedge think we’re super human?” she fumed. “Or witches with spatulas instead of broomsticks?”

  I wasn’t surprised by the reaction. When Julia was tired and inundated with demands, there was a good chance she’d overreact to unexpected news. But since we’re all capable of something similar, I waited for a moment until she could catch her breath.

  “Don’t worry, Jules,” I said. “I can manage Tipper’s order by myself in the morning. Why don’t you finish what you’re doing and then head home?”

  “But Katie!” Julia stammered. “She wants it for a party in two days!” Her lower lip shuddered briefly. “And we’ve already got about, like, ten million things to do in the next twenty-four hours.”

  Her eyes left mine to gaze at the whiteboard on the wall containing our prep lists and special orders. Julia was right; there were quite a few things to prepare by the close of business the following day. But her math was a little left of center; the orders included nine pies, four tarts and six dozen cupcakes instead of ten million. I knew that her flustered remark was in response to Tipper Hedge’s revised request for three of our best-selling items: Lemon Love Cookies, Sunshine Citrus Pound Cake and Orange Cinnamon Scones. The sweet treats were for an afternoon tea that she was hosting for the Crescent Creek Civic Circle, a group of the town’s movers and shakers who gathered once each month to gossip and exchange snarky observations while planning their annual charitable event.

  “It’s okay, Jules. Why don’t you head home and I’ll take care of the last few things we need to do today.”

  Julia shook her head. “No way, José! I’m not going to leave you in the lurch.”

  “What lurch? It’s a few easy-easy things.”

  She smirked. “But I left early last Friday. I don’t want you to think—”

  “You left to take your kids to the dentist. I hardly consider that shirking your responsibilities.”

  “Well…” Her eyelashes fluttered and her frown flipped into a wide smile. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

  I gave her two thumbs up. “More than okay. The only challenge will be if Tipper calls again to say she doesn’t want a citrus theme.”

  “Do you know why she changed her original order?”

  I smiled. “I can answer that question with two words: Carmine Dwyer.”

  Julia frowned. “What?”

  “Carmine Dwyer had a few people over for brunch a couple of weeks ago,” I explained. “She stopped by late one afternoon when you were busy in the kitchen and Harper was cleaning the coffee maker. Since I was up front, I helped Carmine select some goodies for her party and she went with the same things Tipper originally ordered: Strawberry & Cream Cake, Perfectly Peachy Blueberry Pie and Blackberry Thumbprint Cookies.”

  “Oh, so when Tipper heard that…” Julia shook her head and laughed. “…she couldn’t stand the idea of serving something similar?”

  “Bingo!”

  “Isn’t it amazing how competitive some people can be?”

  “Amazing’s one word for it,” I said. “But we shouldn’t judge; there will come a day when one of us changes our mind about something at the last minute.”

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “Hmmmm…” She scrunched her mouth, deep in thought. “Maybe. But I’d never dream of calling like that and completely changing the order.”

  “Never say never, Jules. It’s something my Nana Reed always told me when she ran Sky High. ‘Never say never! We’re all quite capable of being picky and indecisive.’”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Julia said, gathering the mixing bowls she’d been using for the batch of brownies. “Your grandmother was an extraordinary woman, Katie. She built this place from scratch with chutzpah, hard work and some of the best recipes ever!”

  “She was incredible,” I agreed, glancing at the framed picture of Nana Reed on the far wall. “I miss her more and more now that I’ve been running Sky High for a few months.”

  Julia beamed another bright smile. “Not as simple as it looks from the outside, right?”

  “Not at all! I remember when I was a kid, zooming through here with my friends or helping to make cookies. It was all fun and games, like a giant doll house come to life.”

  “And now?” Julia asked.

  “Oh, it’s still fun,” I said. “But the games are a lot more complicated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like Tipper Hedge,” I said. “Changing her order again two days before the party. Some businesses would refuse to accommodate her request. And others would charge a fee to alter the original plans. But in a town as small as Crescent Creek, we need to be a bit more flexible.”

  Julia snickered. “And the fact that we hadn’t made anything yet helps with that flexibility, right?”

  “Exactly!” I sm
iled. “And, as with Carmine Dwyer, I actually know why Tipper is changing her mind again.”

  “Do tell,” Julia said with a cheeky grin. “Was it the result of your amateur detective work?”

  I shook my head. “More like the result of a stop at CVS. I ran into Naomi Osbourne last night. She told me to expect a call from Tipper after word got out on the grapevine that Mona Holt used a Chocolate & Cherries theme for a party she hosted a couple of days ago.”

  “Can’t they both use the same idea?”

  “Well, they could,” I answered. “But those two have been locked in some kind of crazy competition since they were fifteen. It’s a lot like Tipper and Carmine; a silly long ago spat that festers into a lifelong resentment.”

  Julia tapped one finger against her chin. “Oh, that’s right. But this time it’s because Naomi and Tipper both liked that cute boy from school.”

  I nodded. “Yep. And even though neither one of them ended up with Cody Linkletter, they’ve never outgrown the childhood rivalry.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Julia exclaimed.

  “I agree completely. And that’s another reason I’m not starting on Tipper’s order until the very last minute. Who knows what kind of squabble she’ll get into between now and then!”

  CHAPTER 2

  I was finishing my makeup that evening a few minutes after six when Zack called to say he was running late.

  “How late?” I asked. “We’re supposed to be at Blanche’s in an hour.”

  He hummed into the phone; the familiar melody that accompanied his contemplative decisions about menu selections, movie choices and arrival times on the rare occasions when he was behind schedule. “I’d guess maybe twenty minutes,” he said finally. “And I’m really sorry, Katie. The photo shoot for the newspaper’s first DIY Diary turned into a freak show this afternoon.”

  “What happened?”

  He groaned. “Remember that old movie Nightmare on Elm Street?”

  I giggled. “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, that’s a romantic comedy compared to my day. I was at Darrell and Melinda Griswell’s place to get shots of the new kitchen floor they installed. Let’s just say that it did not go as planned.”

  “Want to tell me about it on the way to Blanche’s?”

  “Not especially. I’d rather just spend some quality time with the woman of my dreams.”

  I smiled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “That can be arranged,” I teased. “If you have her number, I’ll give her a call and ask her to—”

  Ka-boom-boom! Someone knocked on my front door—loudly and with gusto.

  “Hey, sweetie?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “I’ve got to go. Somebody’s at the door.”

  “Sure thing,” Zack said. “I’ll be there in a flash. And if Freddy Krueger’s on your front porch, don’t let him in.”

  I assured my handsome photographer that I’d refuse entry to any Hollywood monsters. Then I hurried down the hall and pressed one eye against the peephole.

  “Oh, brother,” I said quietly. “She is working my very last nerve.”

  When I unlocked and opened the door, Tipper Hedge rushed inside with a burst of icy air and the faint aroma of Chanel No. 5.

  “Hi, Katie!” she blurted. “I’m so sorry to ambush you like this, but I’ve got a huge favor to ask.”

  I forced a smile. “What a surprise!”

  “I know.” She plopped into one of the chairs in my living room. “I would’ve called, but…” Her gaze drifted around the room. “You know how it goes?”

  “Of course,” I said. “But Zack and I are—”

  “I know, I know. You’re going to Blanche Speltzer’s for dinner. So am I. But I forgot all about bringing a hostess gift. I was hoping you might have something downstairs in the display case that I could grab real quick.”

  The grin on my face softened. “Well…”

  Tipper leaned forward, both hands pressed together as if in prayer. “Please, please, pretty please!”

  “What about a nice bottle of wine?” I suggested. “Dunkirk’s is right on the way.”

  She considered the proposal. “I don’t think Blanche likes wine.”

  “Really?” I asked in disbelief. “Since when?”

  “Since…I don’t know,” Tipper answered. “I was at Rosemary Dodge’s house for one of her Meditation & Martini workshops, and she—”

  “Whoa! Hold up there!”

  “What is it?” She glanced nervously at her watch. “We’re all supposed to be there in, like, less than an hour, Katie!”

  “I know, but you can’t just throw out ‘meditation’ and ‘martini’ in the same breath and expect me to ignore it.”

  Her forehead creased. “What? Didn’t you get one of Rosemary’s flyers?”

  “For a meditation workshop?”

  Tipper nodded eagerly. “Yeah. After her trip to Sedona, she’s all jazzed up about New Age this and that.”

  “That mixes martinis with meditation?”

  “Yeah, yeah!” Her eyes flicked to her wrist again. “I’ve got my doubts if she’s even serious about it or not, but there’s no time to go into that now! Can I get something from downstairs?”

  Despite the strong desire to tell Tipper Hedge to take a hike, I didn’t want to create any ill will. She could be indecisive. She could be forgetful. And she could be obnoxious if she had too many cocktails. But we’d been friends since grade school, so I grabbed my keys, hurried down the outside stairs and unlocked the door to the Sky High kitchen.

  “You’re an angel,” Tipper gushed as we headed for the display cases in the dining room.

  “And a fool,” I whispered under my breath.

  When we arrived at our destination, Tipper began raving about a few of her favorite sugary treats. While she praised Nana Reed’s cookies and pies, I slipped a Cherry Chocolate Bundt Cake into a white bakery box and sealed it with a gold embossed Sky High sticker.

  “Here you go, Tipper. I’ll see you at Blanche’s.”

  She thanked me for the cake and started to search for her wallet in the suitcase-sized Birkin bag dangling from her willowy arm.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, pressing one hand against her back. “You’re a great customer and a true friend! Let this be my treat!”

  “Okay,” she said, wrapping me in a loose hug and pressing a hurried kiss on my cheek. “But promise you won’t tell anyone that I didn’t pay for it!”

  “Never in a million years,” I pledged. “Now, vamoose! We’ll see you soon!”

  CHAPTER 3

  The picket fence surrounding Blanche Speltzer’s cozy bungalow was decorated with twinkling white lights when Zack and I arrived. A trio of full-size reindeer ornaments—galloping metal animals filled with glowing blue bulbs—grazed on the lawn beneath the outstretched limbs of several mature cottonwood trees. It was early March, but Blanche usually left her holiday decorations in the yard long past the last snowfall of the season.

  “Do you think Santa’s home?” Zack asked with a mischievous wink.

  I laughed and grabbed my purse. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get in there before we’re any later.”

  “It’s twenty past seven,” Zack said. “Which means that we’re, like, five minutes late. Is she going to make us sit in the corner or something?”

  I shook my head. “No, but she’s a stickler for timeliness.”

  We scrambled along the walkway and onto the front porch. Laughter and a chorus of chattering voices spilled over the threshold when Blanche answered my knock.

  “Well, well,” said the retired history teacher. “Don’t you look cute?”

  “Sorry we’re late,” I murmured, offering the bottle of wine Zack had picked up earlier. “We thought you might enjoy this, Blanche.”

  She checked the label and smiled. “Now, this is a nice surprise.” She gave me a light kiss on one cheek before hugging Zack. “You two kids are always worth the wait!”

  While
she took our coats to the guest bedroom, we made our way into the living room. I stood in the doorway and gazed at the blaring television.

  “Where is everybody?” Zack whispered.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. Blanche said it was going to be a small dinner party, but I didn’t realize she meant—”

  “Alrighty then!” Our hostess suddenly appeared on the far side of the room. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got a very lovely chardonnay, club soda with lime and some of the raspberry chocolate ale that Jack Truman makes at his little brewpub over on Pike Street.” She paused, raising one eyebrow. “And if you’re feeling especially festive, I make a mean dirty martini.”

  “Katie?” Zack smiled. “What would you like, gorgeous?”

  “Hmmmm…” My inner wild child wanted a martini, but I knew the next day was going to be especially busy at Sky High. “I’ll take a glass of wine, please.”

  Blanche nodded. “And for you, hot stuff?”

  “I’ll try the ale,” Zack answered. “I’ve heard great things about this year’s batch.”

  “As have I,” Blanche smiled, clicking off the television. “Now, why don’t you two get comfortable? I’ll get your drinks and give my other guests a quick call to see when they’ll be arriving.”

  “Who all is coming?” I asked, following Zack to the sofa. “I saw Tipper earlier, and she said she’d be here.”

  Blanche nodded. “That’s quite correct, dear. I invited Tipper and the gentleman she’s been seeing. I thought it’d be nice for him to meet my favorite young couple since he might become a local resident soon. He’s living in Denver at the moment, but if this romance with Tipper heats up…” She covered her mouth and laughed. “Well, he’d be a fool not to move to town.”

  Tipper hadn’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend, so I asked Blanche for the scoop. She quickly ran through what she knew: Tipper met Kyle at an art gallery opening in Denver; he was a tall, good-looking former DEA agent who retired shortly after being seriously wounded in a shootout with members of a drug cartel.