Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6) Page 17

  He smiled. “Okay, sure Katie,” he said. “But you know this isn’t the Ritz, right? We don’t generally take reservations. It’s more of a casual kind of joint.”

  “I know that. And I wouldn’t normally ask you to do something like this, but it’s really important.”

  “What’s up?” His eyebrows lifted with curiosity. “Are Zack’s parents in town to meet his fair-haired lady love?”

  I groaned. “Please don’t ever call me that again, okay?”

  “But it’s what you are, Katie. You’re Zack Hutton’s lady love, and he’s your—”

  “My boyfriend,” I said quickly. “And I’m his girlfriend. But this isn’t Medieval England. We don’t say things like ‘fair-haired lady love.’”

  He looked disappointed, like a moping tyke who’s been scolded for pulling his sister’s hair. “Well, Becca’s reading this book,” Red muttered. “It’s all about a knight who rescues a princess from a castle and…” He saw the grin on my face and the explanation withered into silence. “Ah, shucks, Katie! She’s been telling me about the story, and it sounded kind of romantic and whatnot.”

  I reached over and patted his arm. “It’s all good, Red. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just trying to stay focused on the task at hand.”

  “Which is?” he asked.

  “Can you reserve the last two booths for us?” I said. “I’m not sure if Dina will get here first or if I will. Either way, we’ll be expecting five people to join us.”

  “And who’s sitting in the other booth?”

  I smiled. “Three clowns.”

  Red shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not even going to ask,” he said. “But I’ll take care of it for you. I’ve got green paper streamers left from St. Patrick’s Day. I can use those to tape off the booths so nobody will sit there before you and your friends arrive.”

  “That’s perfect! Dina or I will take them down before our guests of honor get here.”

  Red’s face brightened. “Is this, like, a birthday party or something?”

  “Nothing quite that festive,” I confessed. “But it is a secret, so please don’t say anything to anyone, okay?”

  He leaned closer. “Oh, now I see!” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “A surprise something for someone!”

  I gave him a thumbs up. “There you go,” I said. “It’s going to be a great, big surprise for at least a few of our guests.”

  “I got it,” Red said. “How about I surprise you right now with a free beer?”

  I shook my head. “That’s really sweet, but I’ve got to pickup and deliver three clown costumes in the next hour and make a quick stop at home to change my clothes.”

  Red checked his watch. “Then you better shake a leg, Katie. I’ll see you back here later for your big whizbang surprise!”

  CHAPTER 41

  The walkie-talkie on the passenger seat beside me buzzed and crackled with static before I heard Trent calling my name.

  “Deputy Chief Walsh to Katie,” he blared. “You there, Katie?”

  I grabbed the radio, clicked the button and answered the question.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said. “Over.”

  “What’s that, Deputy Chief Walsh? Over.”

  “I hate clowns,” he grumbled. “Over.”

  I’d been in constant motion for the past two hours: racing to get the costumes, driving back to the police station to leave them with Trent and then hurrying home to change into a new outfit. I didn’t think he’d actually use the walkie-talkie when he gave it to me earlier, but it was now obvious that he was in a chatty mood.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said. “Over.”

  “There was no way I was dressing up like a woman,” Trent complained. “But I’m not that crazy about being a clown either.”

  I resisted the temptation to tease him any further about his appearance. Instead, I thanked him for agreeing to help with the plan Dina and I had devised before promising to never again ask him to dress like a clown.

  “And why clowns anyway?” he grumbled. “Over.”

  “There’s a traveling circus at the Crescent Creek Civic Center this weekend,” I explained. “Some of the entertainers have already arrived in town, so I figured it would make a good cover for you and whichever officers join you tonight. Over”

  “It’s going to be Denny and Hank,” he announced. “They both owe me a favor, so I’m collecting the debt to help you out. Over.”

  I smiled at the thought of the two macho cops dressed in colorful clown outfits when the walkie-talkie squawked again.

  “Walsh to Katie,” he said. “Over.”

  I held the radio in one hand while steering with the other. “Go for Katie,” I said. “Over.”

  “This costume is starting to itch,” Trent griped. “Do you have any talcum powder in your purse?”

  I answered first with a laugh and then an apology. “I don’t have any, but I think there’s time for a quick dash down the block to CVS. Over.”

  “That’s okay,” Trent said. “I won’t be wearing this getup very long because—” A new burst of static overpowered his voice. “—in time to see the Avalanche play Arizona, right?”

  I knew he was talking about hockey, but I wasn’t sure what he’d asked. To keep things moving along without potentially annoying Bongo the Clown, I asked him to repeat the last few sentences. When he finished, he told me to explain how I came up with the plan we were about to enact.

  “It’s actually something that Dina and I devised together. She used a similar ruse a couple of months ago on a case involving a burglary, and I did the same one time in Chicago when—”

  “Walsh to Katie,” she said. “Over.”

  “Go for Katie,” I said, holding my tongue. “Over.”

  “I just wanted the highlights, Katie. Not your whole life story.”

  I clicked the button on the walkie-talkie a few times. Then I turned it off. We’d already discussed the plan an hour before during a brief conference call with Dina. I suspected he was just feeling ornery and had time to kill while he drove across town to meet me at The Wagon Wheel.

  I also guessed that turning off the radio might make Trent hot—as well as itchy—under his clown collar, but I wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet before our encounter with the guests we’d invited to join us for the evening.

  CHAPTER 42

  A large multicolored banner fluttered above the stage in one corner of Red Hancock’s bar: Karaoke Kostume Kontest. The Wagon Wheel hosted lively amateur singing nights twice each week, but one evening a month featured cash prizes for the best three costumed singers. When I initially proposed the idea to invite a few key individuals to discuss Lacy Orvane’s death—and, I hoped, confirm my theory about the persons responsible—Dina suggested we stage the meeting in one of the Crescent Creek PD conference rooms.

  I’d vetoed the idea. I had a hunch who was behind Lacy’s murder, and I was afraid they’d go underground if they suspected that we were on to them.

  “Tell me again,” Dina said, sipping from her bottle of root beer. “Why’d you pick this place to get everyone together?”

  I smiled. “It was one of Lacy’s favorites. She came to sing karaoke here at least once or twice a month. Since everyone thinks this is a spur-of-the-moment celebration of her life, it makes perfect sense.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about perfect sense, but we’ll see.”

  “It can’t hurt,” I said.

  Dina frowned. “It better not. I told the chief we were coming here and he…” She glanced around the crowded room. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t here.”

  “The night is young. Isn’t he a big karaoke fan?”

  Before she could answer, Trent sauntered up to the booth accompanied by Denny Santiago and Hank Russell, two officers from the Crescent Creek Police Department. They were all wearing the clown costumes that I’d rented from Pete’s Party Palace.

  “You guys look a
mazing!” I said, pulling out my phone to take a picture. “Let me just—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Trent growled. “The fewer people see us like this, the happier I’ll be.”

  “And clowns should be happy, huh?” I offered, sliding the phone back into my purse.

  He grunted again and checked his watch. “We should get in position,” he told Denny and Hank. “You two got this, right?”

  Dina flashed a wide grin. I simply nodded. No sense in poking the bear. Or the clown.

  As they settled into the next booth, Dina and I reviewed our plan for the umpteenth time. Once our guests arrived, we’d make a little small talk: the weather, the upcoming Rockies’ game against the Diamondbacks, the half-price sale on overstocked wine at Tipton’s Liquor Mart. As soon as Dina raved about one of the chardonnays she’d purchased, I would mention that Lacy loved it, too. Then Dina would announce that her investigation appeared to be drawing to a close.

  “Sound good?” I asked.

  Dina nodded. “It should work,” she said. “And that’s when you’ll start to—”

  “Hello, ladies!”

  We’d been so focused on going over our strategy that we hadn’t noticed Portia Pearson approach the booth.

  “Hi!” I jumped up, gave her a big hug and motioned for her to join us.

  “I apologize for being a few minutes late,” she said, sliding across the bench to the seat by the wall. “My cousin called from Tulsa. I swear that girl’s motor mouth never stops! She gabbed and gossiped until I finally just hung up.”

  “Did you?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “Seriously?”

  Portia nodded. “I do it all the time. Then I call her the next day and explain that the call dropped because my battery was so low.”

  “And she believes you?” asked Dina.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Portia’s plucked eyebrows lifted. “I’m not the kind of girl to tell fibs.” She laughed; a sharp, shrill sound that cut through the loud barroom chatter.

  “No doubt,” I said. “And that explanation is totally believable.”

  She snickered again. “At least the first sixty times, right?”

  Dina smiled. I waved at a couple that came to Sky High a few times a month. And Portia silenced the volume on her phone before dropping it into her clutch.

  “I’m not going to let that dang thing interrupt our party time,” she said. “I mean, poor, poor Lacy. I’m so glad you thought of this, Katie. And what a perfect place to get together and celebrate her life!”

  As she surveyed the room, I watched her face with a sideways glance. I wanted to see her reaction when our other guests arrived. Luckily, they arrived together, so I didn’t have to wait long.

  “What is she doing here?” Portia demanded.

  I innocently asked what she was talking about.

  “My assistant,” Portia hissed. “Don’t I see her enough at work?”

  Her eyes began to widen as she realized that three other people were following Daphne and they were all walking directly toward our booth.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she muttered, flashing a quick look at me. “It’s a parade of fools!”

  I got up to greet the new arrivals. Once everyone realized they’d been invited to the same celebration of Lacy’s life, they grudgingly slid into the roomy booth. Nathaniel Craig sat across from Portia. Thomas Green followed, sitting beside his boss. Pinky Newton plopped down next to the pale bank vice president. And Daphne Wright stood nervously beside the table for a moment before I moved closer to Portia and patted the seat beside me.

  “Come on in,” I said. “The water’s fine and the sharks won’t bite.”

  The attempt at levity landed with a resounding thud. I apologized with a shrug and waited while Dina took her position beside Thomas Green.

  “Isn’t this…a little awkward?” Nathaniel Craig said, nervously rubbing his hands together. “I mean, we all want to honor our coworker and friend, but I didn’t—”

  “Neither did I!” Portia fixed her irate gaze on the bank president’s face. “And I don’t believe I would’ve so readily agreed to be here if I’d known he was coming!”

  Daphne stared at her employer, probably trying to comprehend how she’d landed in a booth at The Wagon Wheel on karaoke costume night with such a motley crew. I smiled at her quickly and gave a little nod. She instantly averted her eyes, staring instead at the napkin dispenser in the middle of the table.

  “Well, before we get carried away,” Dina began, “let me just say that I appreciate—”

  “And what are you doing here anyway?” Portia glared angrily at Dina. “Were you even Lacy’s friend, detective? I never once heard her—”

  “Portia?”

  The stern clarity of Dina’s voice stopped the rant.

  “Why don’t we order some drinks?” I suggested.

  “Let’s hold off on that for a sec,” Dina said calmly. “We may not even be here that long.”

  Portia huffed and asked me to let her out of the booth.

  “I think there are some things we need to discuss first,” I said, studying her twitching, narrowed eyes.

  “Like what?” she demanded.

  Dina shifted forward, putting one hand on the table. “Let’s start with this,” she said evenly. “We’re here to talk about Lacy Orvane. And, while there may have been a little artifice involved in actually getting everyone together, I believe—”

  “Artifice?” Thomas Green hissed. “That’s putting it mildly! Kate out-and-out lied to me.”

  “I called and asked you to join a small group here for karaoke night,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I told you it was to honor Lacy Orvane and—”

  “You said it was to celebrate her,” said the suddenly grumpy bank vice president. “Not to force me to spend time with that witch!” His gaze was focused on Portia. “She was never kind to Lacy during rehearsals or after a production or when—”

  “Because Miss Orvane didn’t have one talented bone in her body!” Portia said through gritted teeth.

  Green’s expression switched instantly; the defiant, aggressive glower vanished and he was left looking shell-shocked and confused.

  “Okay, I’d say that’s enough of the playground chatter,” Dina announced, reaching into her pocket for a small notebook. “From this point forward, I’d like everyone to please be courteous and respectful when someone else is talking.” She paused, glancing around the booth at the dissimilar expressions and stances. “As you know, during the past few days, the Crescent Creek Police Department has been investigating the death of Lacy Orvane. Although, on its surface, the incident appeared at first to be some type of medical emergency, we now know that Lacy died after ingesting a sizeable quantity of cicutoxin.”

  Everyone contemplated the announcement for a few seconds. Daphne winced slightly, anxiously chewing one fingernail. Nathaniel Craig smirked and shook his head. Thomas Green’s eyes were locked on Pinky, but she was staring at the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist.

  As I considered the dazzling bauble, I suddenly remembered what Green had said during my visit to his office. “…there was one bracelet that went to someone outside of the bank’s inner circle,” he’d told me. “Let’s just say it was presented to one of Mr. Craig’s close and personal friends as a sort of consolation prize.”

  And then, as her fingers began to slide the expensive piece of jewelry around her slender arm, I noticed something on the inside of her wrist.

  It was small and ornate and dark.

  At first, I thought it was a small bruise or a birthmark, but then I realized it was something else entirely.

  It was a relatively discreet tattoo of one word: Love.

  CHAPTER 43

  My eyes lingered on the tattoo and diamond bracelet as Dina continued talking about the investigation. When I finally glanced away from Pinky’s wrist, the CCPD detective was describing the three classes of fingerprints.

  “There are loops, arches and whorls
,” Dina explained. “Approximately sixty to sixty-five percent of the population has loops, thirty to thirty-five has whorls and—”

  “Pardon me, detective,” Nathaniel Craig cut in. “But what does any of that have to do with why you asked us to come here tonight?”

  “I was getting to that,” Dina said.

  “Well, can you speed things up?” Despite the jagged edge in his voice, the banker’s expression was blank. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve got better things to do than listen to a lecture about fingerprints.”

  Dina smiled. “Alright then,” she said. “The reason I’m telling you this is because we found a plastic carryout container from Drake’s Deli that had a very interesting set of fingerprints on it.”

  Nathaniel Craig didn’t say anything.

  “Were they his?” Daphne asked.

  “No, but I believe the killer wanted us to think Mr. Craig was responsible for Lacy’s death,” Dina answered.

  “How?” Nathaniel Craig demanded. “I had nothing to do with it!”

  “Because the plastic carryout box had your initials on it,” Dina said.

  The revelation changed the banker’s demeanor. He began to clench his teeth and his breathing quickened. I saw him cast a quick glance at Pinky before he turned to Dina.

  “That’s utterly fascinating, detective. But quite a few people in town know that I buy my lunch from Colin Drake almost every weekday.”

  “Well, what about the day that Lacy was poisoned?” I asked.

  Nathaniel Craig moved his gaze to me. “What was that?”

  “Colin and his employees write the date of every order on the outside of the plastic container,” I explained. “The one that Detective Kincaid just referred to was marked with the date that Lacy Orvane died.”

  Craig scoffed. “Coincidence,” he said. “Or fluke.” He stopped to think, casually rubbing one hand along the side of his face. “Or, to be quite practical about the matter, anyone could write anything on the container if they had a black marker. Isn’t that right, detective? Not to mention that I didn’t go to the deli that day; I attended an all-day Chamber of Commerce meeting at the Civic Center and they provided lunch for everyone.”