Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6) Page 10

  “Don’t you worry about it.” I started searching through my purse again. “I hate to be rude, but—” His odd comment echoed through my mind. “Did you say the ring was a way for Mr. Craig to ‘claim his property’?”

  He nodded and sat behind the pristine desk. The dark wood gleamed and the few items on the surface—a lamp, business cards in a small holder, a writing blotter framed in black leather—were neatly arranged. There was a small silver picture frame near the phone. At first, I was surprised that someone so dispassionate and cold would keep a personal photograph on his desk. But the initial flicker of surprise vanished when I saw the woman in the image. Before I could say her name, Green reached over and brushed a speck of dust from the frame.

  “That was taken at last season’s community theater cast party,” he said, angling the photograph away from my view. “We did Taming of the Shrew.” His pupils dilated noticeably as his gaze lingered on the picture. “It’s really just a silly memento from the White Elephant party that the cast and crew do after every show.”

  I smiled, but decided not to comment on the photograph or his explanation. Instead, I asked him to tell me more about Nathaniel Craig and the commemorative jewelry given to bank employees.

  “What do you want to know?” Green asked.

  “Does he give something to everyone who works here for ten years?”

  He answered with another subtle nod.

  “Well, Lacy was with the bank forever. I don’t remember her wearing a ring like that.”

  “Oh, no,” Green said with a smile. “Men get signet rings; women receive a diamond tennis bracelet.”

  “I see. And how many expensive Tiffany rings and bracelets has Mr. Craig presented since you started with the bank?”

  He narrowed his eyes, contemplating the question with great concentration. “Well, I think it’s four…no, it’s five,” he said. “Counting myself. There’s Annabeth Warren; she’s a loan officer. And two of the ladies in the back office, Jane Cromwell and Sarah Martin. And Benny Calhoun, although he’s…no longer with us. I found his ring in his desk afterward. Mr. Craig doesn’t know this, but I donated it to the community theater costume department.” There was a small pause before he finished the roster. “Anyway, besides those employees, there was another bracelet that went to someone who didn’t actually work at the bank. From what I heard, it was presented to one of Mr. Craig’s special friends as a sort of consolation prize.”

  From the deep frown and somber tone, I guessed that Green disapproved of the bank president’s decision. But I didn’t want to pursue that thread at the moment. Instead, I expressed my condolences about the death of Benny Calhoun. Green chuckled and smiled before explaining that the man had been fired a few weeks earlier.

  “Sticky fingers,” he said. “But I heard that he was also stalking Lacy, so…it was for the best.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was a creep. He followed her around, constantly asked her to go out for drinks after work and he even showed up at her house one Saturday afternoon.”

  “Uninvited?”

  Green nodded. “Benny claimed he was visiting a neighbor and just wanted to be gracious, but Lacy got the feeling he wanted her to ask him inside.”

  “But she didn’t?”

  “Of course not! Like I said, the guy was a creep. Heck, I think he’s even dangerous; I wouldn’t be surprised if the papers that he sent to Lacy—the ones I gave you for the police—were somehow related to her death. I didn’t look at them myself, of course. But Benny Calhoun’s a loose cannon; there’s no telling how far he’d go to make Lacy bend to his will.”

  The odd phrase rolled off Thomas Green’s tongue as if he’d said it a million times. As if it was a line of dialogue from a play. Or something he’d rehearsed for another type of performance. The longer we talked and I studied the expression on his face, the more I sensed that he was on a mission to focus the Lacy Orvane investigation on the former bank employee.

  “Did you ever hear Mr. Calhoun threaten Lacy?” I asked.

  Thomas Green’s left eye twitched for a moment. Then he said, “More than once.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That she would bend to his will,” Green said again. “That she would be his happily ever after.”

  I forced myself not to smile. It was fairly obvious that Green was delivering something prepared instead of spontaneous answers.

  “And you know what else?” he asked.

  I smiled. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a good thing Mr. Craig got rid of him,” Green continued. “He wasn’t cut out to be the next president of Crescent Creek Bank. With him gone, I can take over when the torch is passed.”

  “You make it sound like Mr. Craig is getting ready to retire.”

  “Plenty of people wish he would.” Green’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. “They think he’s overstayed his welcome already.”

  “Why do they feel that way?”

  Another brief flash of irritation crossed the man’s face. “Because he’s too controlling and demanding. And he’s old-fashioned; I mean, what financial institution doesn’t offer online banking in this day and age?”

  “Wow! That is surprising. Although I’ve never heard anything but praise for Mr. Craig.”

  “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Miss Reed. The man is a snake—a lying, cheating snake.” Green’s body stiffened and he took a long, deep breath. “But maybe we can discuss that another time, Miss Reed.”

  “Another time, of course,” I said with a grin. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was prying, Mr. Green.”

  He chuckled faintly. “You weren’t, Miss Reed. But I’m not comfortable discussing the situation at great length on bank property.” He turned in his chair and glanced briefly at the photograph on his desk. “What did the police say about the pages from Benny Calhoun?” he asked. “Do you think they’ll arrest him soon?”

  I shrugged. “That’s not for me to say, but you could always ask Detective Kincaid.”

  Thomas Green shook his head, averting his eyes at the same time. “No, I don’t think that…” He took another breath. “I suppose it’s not really my place to speculate. I mean, even if I knew something more, I don’t really want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Hang on,” I said. “If you have additional evidence or you’ve found something that might be helpful to the investigation, you need to talk to Detective Kincaid immediately.”

  He nodded. “I don’t understand why they haven’t arrested Benny Calhoun,” he said. “It’s obvious from those pages I found in Lacy’s desk that he was following her and the married guy. And if he was—”

  “Pardon the interruption,” I said. “I thought you told me that you hadn’t looked at the notes you found in Lacy’s desk.”

  He blinked. “Well, maybe a quick peek. This has all been so upsetting and confusing, you know? I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

  “The most important thing you can do is be forthright with the police. If you know more about what happened, whether it involves Benny Calhoun or someone else, please let them know.”

  “I will,” he said. “I just think they should look into Benny Calhoun’s involvement. I mean, somebody needs to do something about what happened to Lacy!”

  “The police are doing something about it,” I said firmly. “And, if you’re reluctant for any reason to talk with Detective Kincaid, I’d be willing to go back with you to the station.”

  The frown tightened. “That’s not necessary. I’ll call her a little later today. I should tell her that I looked at Benny Calhoun’s notes so there’s no confusion about the matter. But I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, so I want to finish up a few things here at the bank before I do anything else.”

  CHAPTER 25

  It was around five-thirty that afternoon when I walked into Portia Pearson’s furniture store. The showroom was empty and hushed. All of the vignettes looked like photogra
phs from House & Garden or Elle Décor; chic, stylish and pristine. As I walked through the room toward where Daphne Wright was whispering into her phone, I noticed the price tag on a chandelier that resembled a Russian spacecraft from the Cold War: Inspired by Sputnik! Sale Price $4,850!

  I fought the urge to laugh. Nearly five thousand dollars, I thought. For a bunch of light bulbs stuck on rusty lead pipes.

  Daphne raised one hand and gestured to let me know she’d be off the phone in a jiff. While I waited, I perched gingerly on a leather love seat and checked my nails. I’d used a new color to polish them the previous night after Zack left.

  “Hmmm,” I murmured softly. “I guess Sheer Ballet Pink was a good choice after all.”

  “What was that?”

  I looked up to find Daphne standing beside me. A quick glance revealed how she’d managed to cross the room without detection: pink fluffy bedroom slippers.

  “Oh, gosh!” She put one hand over her mouth when she noticed me staring at her feet. “I forgot to change back into my heels.”

  “It’s fine. I think comfort is essential.”

  Her cheeks were bright red. “I know, but Portia gets so mad if I’m not, like, totally professional. It’s just that she keeps the thermostat on, I don’t know, the subzero North Pole setting and the place is always freezing!”

  “You look fine,” I said, reaching into my bag for the Sky High coffee mug I’d packed earlier. “Oh, shoot! Do you mind holding this for a sec?”

  She took the mug without question as I quickly rummaged through my bag. I kept up a running commentary the whole time, apologizing for being disorganized and stopping by without an appointment.

  “That’s no problem,” Daphne said, clutching the mug. “Can I help with something?”

  “I had a stack of paperwork for the food festival to give Portia, but I’m starting to think that I left it back on my desk at Sky High.”

  Daphne shrugged. “Well, she’s not here anyway. I’m minding the store while she runs to the post office and bank.”

  “Oh, okay…” I stopped the charade, took the mug and dropped it into my bag. “Then I guess I’ll just…” I pretended to be deep in thought. “Oh, you know what? I think I left my compact downstairs the other day. You know, in all the hubbub and confusion?”

  She nodded sadly. “The day that Lacy was…”

  Neither of us wanted to complete the thought, so I asked if she’d mind running downstairs to see if the missing face powder was in the conference room.

  “The compact is bright pink,” I explained. “With my initials on the top and a little piece of masking tape on the bottom where I wrote my locker combination. I’ve had it since junior high, so it’s kind of a special keepsake.” I paused, stuck out my lower lip and did my best to appear crestfallen. “Do you mind checking for me?”

  “Oh, I can totally do that,” Daphne said, walking toward the stairs that led to the lower level. “Be right back!”

  As soon as she was gone, I scrambled over to Portia’s desk, pulled a plastic bag from my purse and slipped it over the Russian nesting dolls that always sat beside her calculator. She’d told me once that they were left behind by a crabby toddler, so I knew they weren’t a priceless collectible or vintage family memento. She’d also confided that they’d become her good lucky charm, something she held each morning to ensure the day would be highly lucrative. I felt guilty taking them, but it was for a good cause. I also knew they’d be easy to return in a few days during another impromptu visit.

  I’d barely concealed the purloined tchotchkes in my bag when I heard Daphne calling my name.

  “I didn’t see your compact,” she said, returning to the showroom floor. “But I’ll totally keep an eye out for it.”

  “That would be awesome! I’m sorry to interrupt your day like this, Daphne. I probably should’ve called first to make sure it was okay to stop by.”

  She frowned. “Why would you do that? This is a furniture store; people come in and out all the time.”

  “Well, of course, but I’m still…” She was smiling now, a slanted grin that told me there was no need to apologize. “Okay then! I’ll be going and you can get back to…whatever you do when there’s no one here.”

  She glanced around at the empty room. “Want to know the truth?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m actually going through the classifieds,” she confessed. “I’ve been here way too long. I want to find something that challenges me and gives me a chance to use my degree.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I’m certified to teach, but thought this would be more fun.”

  “But it’s not?”

  She made a face. “Oh, it’s so not fun. But there’s a bunch of other personal stuff going on, so…” The lighthearted tone had darkened and her smile was fading fast. “Anyway, Miss Reed. It was nice to see you. I’ll tell Portia that you stopped by.”

  I thanked her again and headed to the car. When I’d climbed behind the wheel, I dialed Dina’s number. She didn’t answer, so I listened to her greeting and left a quick message.

  “I need a favor,” I said. “And I know you’re really busy. But it might just help you crack the Lacy Orvane case so—” The line beeped with the incoming call alert. “—so give me a buzz, please! Okay? Okay!”

  I quickly toggled to the second line and heard the warm and melodious voice of the most handsome photographer in all of Crescent Creek.

  “Hey, babe?” Zack said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned against the seat. “I love you right back, handsome.”

  “Whew,” he said. “That’s a relief.”

  “Did you think I’d changed my mind?”

  “Not really. It’s just that Winnie-the-Pooh thing.”

  I laughed. “What Winnie-the-Pooh thing?”

  “Oh, you know…” I could hear the slight tinge of self-consciousness in his voice, the faint flicker of discomfort that surfaced whenever he revealed the adorable, sweet center of his impossibly caring heart. “It’s something like, ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”

  “That’s it exactly,” I said softly. “And I agree; I always want to be sure of you, too.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could hear his deep, resonant breathing.

  “There’s one more Winnie-the-Pooh line that I like just as much,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think it’s something like, ‘It’s so much more friendly with two.’”

  Zack laughed. “You’ve got it word-for-word, babe,” he said. “That’s it exactly: ‘It’s so much more friendly with two.’”

  CHAPTER 26

  As I drove past Blanche Speltzer’s bungalow on the way home, I spotted her on the front porch. When I stopped at the curb and honked, she waved for me to come inside.

  “Well, look at you!” she exclaimed as we stepped through the front door. “So cute and such perfect timing! I was just getting ready to fix a cup of tea, Katie. Will you join me?”

  After I declined, she upped the ante by offering one of her renowned dirty martinis instead.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I said. “But I appreciate the hospitality.”

  She headed for the hallway, nodding her head to invite me along. “Why don’t we sit back here, dear? The front room seems particularly drafty this afternoon for some reason.”

  Once we were settled in the kitchen, I asked Blanche about her matchmaking business. She’d started the enterprise a few months earlier, but I hadn’t heard her talk about it much since then.

  “Oh, it’s ticking along, Katie. Do you know of someone in need of my services?”

  I instantly thought of Thomas Green, the pale bank gnome who seemed slavishly devoted to Nathaniel Craig. When I mentioned his name, Blanche threw back her head and cackled loudly.

  “Why on earth would he need me, Katie? He’s married to that sweet Vivian Baxter.”

  I blinke
d at the news. “The pharmacist at Food Town?”

  Blanche nodded. “Yes, they’ve been married for several years. And, even though they haven’t all been filled with bliss, Vivian says she’s devoted to Thomas.”

  I felt a couple of loose ends knit together in my mind.

  “I guess she didn’t take his last name when they married?”

  The frisky, gray-haired matchmaker raised one finger and wagged it at me with a fluffy laugh. “It’s a new age, Katie. Not every woman does that these days.”

  “Right,” I said, trying to picture Thomas Green and Vivian Baxter together. “I suppose it is a new age.”

  While she toyed with the white poodle salt and pepper shakers on the table, I asked if she’d had any new success stories with her matchmaking service.

  Her eyes creased as she smiled. “I introduced Samuel Clay and Ramona Reece just last week! I think they’re going to fall madly, deeply, truly in love and then I’ll officiate at their wedding and everyone will live happily ever after!”

  “Did you say that you would officiate?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I did indeed! I just got my certificate in the mail yesterday. I am now an ordained and licensed ceremonial minister, Katie. I can do weddings, funerals, vow renewals and baptisms. It’s really easy. I filled out the form while I was watching Jeopardy, sent in my forty bucks and—voilà!—I’m a genuine ceremonial minister.”

  I had questions about the unexpected news, but decided they could wait for another day. Instead, I congratulated Blanche on her latest achievement before asking if she’d heard anything new about Lacy Orvane.

  “Why don’t you just come out and ask the question directly, Katie?”

  I smiled. “Okay, Blanche. Do you know who she was involved with?”

  “I only wish,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’ve been alive a very long time, Katie. Nearly eighty-one years, as you may remember. And I know just about every living soul in Crescent Creek. But I’ve never had this much trouble getting to the bottom of something as simple as the identity of a local adulterer.”