Murder on Red Mesa Road Read online

  Murder on Red Mesa Road

  Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries / 32

  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.

  © 2019 Mary Maxwell 09012019

  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

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  Nana Reed’s Sky High Recipes

  CHAPTER 1

  I was standing behind the counter at Sky High Pies, the bakery café that my family owns in Crescent Creek, Colorado, when a woman stepped through the front door, sashayed across the empty dining room and announced that she needed four peach pies by six o’clock that evening. I glanced at my watch: half past four.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, noticing the large alligator purse that she clutched in one hand, “but we’re actually closed. I must’ve forgotten to lock the door.”

  She smiled, pointing at the sign my grandmother had placed behind the counter more than four decades earlier. “Isn’t the customer always right?”

  Since we’d sold our last slice of peach an hour before closing, and Julia, our chef and dessert goddess, had left a few minutes earlier, I was flying solo.

  “I’ll pay you triple the regular price,” the woman said, removing a small parcel from the alligator bag, “to bake the pies and keep this for me until I come back. Do you mind terribly? It’s making my handbag a little awkward to carry.”

  I studied the package: brown paper, clear adhesive tape and a local Crescent Creek address as the delivery destination. Then I looked at the woman a bit more closely. I guessed she was in her early thirties, somewhere close to my age, but her designer outfit and expensive gear made her seem much older.

  “Don’t worry,” she said with a relaxed smile. “It’s just a bunch of papers; no drugs or explosives.”

  “No problem,” I said, taking the parcel and slipping it under the counter.

  “I need the pies tomorrow for my boss,” she added. “Peaches are good luck charms for him. He’s coming up from Aspen, so I need them, like, without fail.”

  I managed a lighthearted grin. “I can make that work. We just happen to have some extra dough in the cooler and a few peaches left from a cobbler that our chef made this morning.”

  As she closed her handbag, I took in a few more details about her appearance: matching diamond tennis bracelets on one wrist, an utterly flawless manicure, impeccable veneers on her teeth and a tiny dark smudge on her chin.

  “You’ve got a little something right here.” I tapped just below my mouth and pushed a napkin holder in her direction. “Maybe some chocolate?”

  She removed the splotch after checking her reflection in the side of the chrome dispenser.

  “I’m absolutely captivated at the moment by M&Ms,” she said with a limitless smile. “You know, the candy that melts in your mouth, not in your hand?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, they also melt all over your white vintage Calvin Klein dress, the inside of your handbag and the front seat of your rental car.”

  We both laughed. The hint of snobbery that I’d detected when she first spoke was long gone.

  “Forgive me,” she said, offering her right hand. “I’m Marina Seaton. I’m with the television show that’s going to be filming for the next few weeks at the old Stanfield estate on Red Mesa Road. When I asked the realtor where I could buy peach pies, he recommended your place.”

  “Good choice,” I said. “Which realtor gave you the tip?”

  She laughed. “Plural, dear. We’re working with two realtors: Eugene Crisp and Suzee Dirnhofer. My boss is an old-fashioned lump of intransigence. He thinks only men can conduct business transactions. I, on the other hand, hold no such imbecilic views.”

  “Suzee and Eugene are both wonderful,” I said. “And it sounds like everyone got along well if you’ve already settled on a property for the TV show.”

  Her eyes rolled left and then right. “True, true, true,” she said. “Now we just need to find a muzzle for my boss.”

  I started to say something, but decided against it. Instead, I reached for an order pad, made a notation about the peach pies and then asked if she planned to wait while I worked my magic.

  “I’ll be back at six,” she said, putting a credit card on the counter. “I have a couple of other errands and then a phone call with my astrologist.” She paused, smiling slyly. “Do you believe in the connections between celestial objects and human affairs?”

  “To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought,” I said, ringing up the purchase and processing the credit card. “But I do believe in the connection between raw ingredients and recipes, so I better get started on those pies if they’re going to be ready on time.”

  “Touché!” she replied with a laugh that was melodic and bright.

  I handed her the card and a receipt. She opened her purse again, dropped them inside and then snapped it shut.

  “I’ll see you at six o’clock on the nose!” she said, turning for the door. “And thank you again for being such an angel!”

  CHAPTER 2

  When I shuffled into the Sky High kitchen at five o’clock the next morning, Julia was standing at the back counter studying the four peach pies.

  “Who are these for?” she asked. “Did I forget to make an order before I left last night?”

  Julia had been the chef and dessert guru at Sky High for years. I pitched in to help her on the front line during the busy lunch and breakfast rushes. I also shared baking responsibilities with her when I wasn’t juggling the paperwork, purchasing and other administrative tasks. The third member of our crew was a bubbly go-getter named Harper. She handled the dining room like a gifted maestro from seven in the morning until we closed each afternoon at three.

  “Those are for a first-time customer,” I said. “They were ordered after you left.”

  “When are they coming back for them?” Julia asked.

  “Late yesterday afternoon,” I said.

  Her nose crinkled with a frown. “I hate to break the bad news, Katie, but they’re running behind schedule.”

  “Tell me something that I don’t already know,” I grumbled.

  Julia grinned. “Our middl
e child flushed golf balls down the toilet in the master bathroom last night,” she said with a straight face.

  “What?” I shook my head. “Can you say that again?”

  After she repeated the news, I asked how it related to the peach pies.

  “Well, you asked me to tell you something that you—”

  I waved my hand. “Got it,” I said. “Why did Shep put the golf balls in the toilet?”

  She shrugged. “One of his friends dared him.”

  “How much was the plumber?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to get into it,” Julia replied. “The new carpet in our bedroom was ruined, they had to cut a hole in the wall to replace a pipe and Shepherd claimed that he was taking us to court for, and I quote, ‘Being hideous, horrible, hateful heretics.’” She giggled. “They studied alliteration at school the other day, so at least the episode wasn’t a total waste. Our little nugget retained some of what he was taught and he learned a valuable lesson.”

  “Which one?” I smiled. “Never flush golf balls down the toilet?”

  “Nope.” Julia smiled. “He learned that actions have consequences.”

  I made a face. “I hated that lesson when I was Shep’s age.”

  She offered a hearty laugh. “Heck, it can be a hard one to accept at any age.”

  “Too true,” I said, glancing at the peach pies again. “I guess we should run a special on these today. We can always make four more if our elusive customer returns.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Julia said. “Was it Gunner Sweeney again? He’s ordered things and forgotten them more often that I can remember.”

  I held up both hands, extending all but one thumb.

  “He’s done it nine times?” she asked.

  “I keep a little tally in the desk drawer,” I said. “It might make a fun story for my autobiography someday.”

  “About Gunner?”

  I nodded. “I have this idea that I’ll keep a running list of quirky or unusual customers. Then the book can have little sidebar stories about the oddballs we’ve known over the years.”

  “Beginning with the staff?” Her eyes widened. “We three are among the oddest, don’t you think?”

  I shook my head. “We’re not that weird, Jules. We’re three independent, creative and energetic women who work together better than any other group that I know.”

  “I’d have to agree with that,” Julia said, turning toward the coffee maker. “But I’ll need some java first. Do you want a cup?”

  “Yes, please,” I said. “The first one has barely made a dent in the haze clouding my mind.”

  “I’m exactly the same way today,” Julia replied. “Jared and I barely slept last night after the plumber left.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said, following her across the room. “The soggy carpet, the hole in the wall and the huge invoice to pay.”

  She pulled a cup from the cabinet. “And fifty bucks for the golf balls that started the whole thing. I didn’t even know you could spend that much on something so silly.”

  “Jared probably doesn’t think of them as silly,” I said as she refilled my cup.

  “He does now,” she said, lifting her chin. “We settled that one first. No more expensive toys for Jared.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” I said, “especially under the current circumstances.”

  She winked. “Unless, of course, I see something that I want. In that case, we’ll renegotiate the agreement.”

  “Wiggle room is good,” I said, heading for the hallway. “I need to take care of something in the office real quick. Then I’ll be right back to help set up the front line.”

  “Deal,” Julia said. “While you do that, I’ll gulp down this coffee to get my motor running.”

  CHAPTER 3

  An hour later, as Julia flipped pancakes, scrambled eggs and whistled “Don’t Worry Be Happy” along with the sizzle of bacon and sausage, I heard a voice that made me jump.

  “These look good.”

  I whirled around to find Dina Kincaid examining the four peach pies on the back counter.

  “Hey!” I said, putting one hand over my skittering heart. “You about scared me half to death.”

  “Sorry, Katie.” She smiled apologetically. “I was sure you heard the door squeak when it opened.”

  “No, but thank you for the reminder,” I said. “I need to get Angus in here to take care of those hinges.”

  “How’s he doing?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him around town much.”

  I smiled. “Probably because his new romantic interest lives in Briarfield.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She’s a lovely woman, too; a perfect match for Angus. Luckily, he still finds time to do the occasional repair around here.”

  “That’s good,” she said, nodding toward the door. “Because those squeaky hinges are ready for him as we speak.”

  After finishing the quip, Dina’s smile went flat.

  “Very funny,” I replied. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m okay,” she answered.

  “You might be okay,” I said. “But your face says that something heavy is on your mind.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s true,” she replied. “Can we step out back for a minute?”

  I put down the banana bread batter that I was getting ready to pour into a pair of baking pans. Then I wiped my hands on a towel and followed her outside to the deck.

  “Can I run something by you?” she asked.

  “Always,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “We have a double homicide on Red Mesa Road,” she answered. “It’s the big house that Kelly Stanfield lived in when we were kids.”

  It took me a few seconds, but I finally conjured an image of the property. Kelly was a friend that Dina and I went to school with until we were juniors at Crescent Creek High. The summer before we started senior year, Kelly’s father landed a new job with a company in Omaha, so they packed up the contents of the rambling stone house, loaded their two horses into a trailer and drove off into the sunset. We promised to keep in touch, but neither Dina nor I heard from Kelly again. We learned years later that she met a boy the first day after they arrived in Nebraska. They fell madly in love, Kelly became one of the most popular girls at her new school and life after that unfolded like a fairytale: handsome husband, two adorable children and a successful career as a realtor and motivational speaker.

  “I thought that house was on the market,” I said.

  Dina nodded. “For the past two years,” she replied. “The current owner was determined to get his original asking price, but that’ll be even more difficult now.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “That kind of notoriety is hard to shake.”

  Dina’s phone buzzed. While she read the new message, I started running through the most obvious questions. Who were the victims? Was it related to the sale of the property? Did anyone witness the homicides? What would motivate someone to—

  “Sorry about that,” she said. “Tyler and Trent had a conference call with a detective from the LAPD.”

  “Really? They’re working a case that involves someone out there?”

  Dina smiled. “This one,” she told me. “And it actually involves more than one someone.”

  “And you need my help?” I said.

  “First, we need your memory.” She went back to the phone, pulled up a picture and then held it up so I could see the screen. “Do you remember this woman?”

  It was the customer who ordered four peach pies the previous afternoon.

  “Of course,” I said. “I always remember people who forget to come back for their bakery orders.”

  Dina narrowed her gaze. “She didn’t come back?”

  “No, but that’s happened before,” I said. “You know how it is; people get busy, things fall through the cracks. Most folks eventually remember and either call or fly through the door the next day with a flustered apology.”

  “She wo
n’t be doing either,” Dina said. “We found her last night along with a second victim. They were gunned down outside of the Stanfield’s old house.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “What happened?”

  She responded with a sad smile. “This one’s already making my head hurt. That’s why I wanted to see if you could spare time to do a little consulting. I’ve done a small amount of online research, but you’re really good at that.”

  “I can help with whatever you need once we close Sky High for the day,” I said.

  “That’s great,” Dina replied. “I can definitely use your help. And there’s an even more important reason that I came to see you this morning.” She paused. “How well do you know Marina Seaton?”

  “I don’t think that I know that name,” I said.

  “She whispered your name to the EMTs in the ambulance,” Dina said. “And she died a few minutes later before they got to the hospital.”

  My mind suddenly cleared; Dina was talking about the attractive woman that ordered the peach pies the previous day.

  “Oh, my word,” I said quietly. “That poor woman…”

  “So you do know her?” Dina asked.

  I shook my head. “She came in yesterday,” I said. “She placed an order, we talked for a few seconds and then she asked me to hold a package while she ran a few other errands.”

  “Is it still here?” Dina asked.

  I nodded. “In the office.”

  “Okay, I’ll collect that before I leave,” she replied. “That must be why Marina said your name in the ambulance.”

  “Was she the only victim last night?” I asked.

  “Marina was one of two fatalities,” Dina answered. “The other victim was a man named Calvin Bloom. They both worked for a television production company based in Los Angeles. A third man was wounded during the shooting, another employee from the TV crew, but it was essentially a flesh wound.”

  “Do you have any idea what happened?” I asked.

  She sighed. “We’re still processing the scene, so it’s way too soon to speculate. But we have two fatalities, one wounded victim and shell casing from two different guns.”