The Cherry Chip Murders Read online

  “Darren was with friends?”

  She laughed. “That’s how Rachel’s husband described it. He’d heard that Darren was possibly involved in the incident at Tony Hett’s house, but figured everything had been cleared up because Darren looked pretty happy at the hotel.”

  “Did her husband recognize any of the other people?”

  “Actually, Darren was with Leo Leachman,” she answered. “He owns the discount furniture stores down there. He does all those wacky commercials where he dresses up like a lion and calls himself the King of Fun Furniture.”

  I wasn’t familiar with the stores or television spots, but decided to focus on Darren’s whereabouts rather than furniture royalty. Since I didn’t know her friend, I asked Harper if she would call Rachel Sampson’s husband and encourage him to get in touch with Dina if he hadn’t already.

  “It’s kind of late,” Harper said. “They’ve got two new babies at home, so would it be okay if I talked to her in the morning?”

  “Of course,” I said. “That’s exciting news about the twins.”

  She sighed. “It’s awesome! Dakota and Jackson are the cutest Lab puppies that I’ve ever seen. I asked Bobby if we could get another dog, but he put his foot down.”

  “Oh, I thought you meant real babies.”

  “Don’t be a hater,” Harper said with a laugh. “For some folks, it’s one and the same. Plenty of people do better parenting pooches than humans.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “And thanks for the tip about Darren. I know that Dina will be thrilled that our wayward friend has been spotted.”

  “No problem,” she replied. “Give her my best when you talk to her.”

  “Will do,” I said. “See you in the morning.”

  After I finished the call with Harper, I quickly sent a text to Dina: Darren Rigby was seen at Fenwick Hotel.

  Her response came back instantly: So I’ve been told. Will call you tomorrow. Sleep tight!

  CHAPTER 16

  I called my sister early the next afternoon as soon as the lunch rush subsided. I had a hazy memory of Olivia telling me a story about a client who wore a lion costume to a meeting when he launched a new advertising campaign for his business. Although there was a slim chance that more than one entrepreneur considered themselves to be tough, daunting and regal, I hoped that Olivia had been talking about Leo Leachman. If so, maybe she could do some snooping to look for a connection between Darren Rigby and the King of Fun Furniture.

  Olivia worked for a prestigious law firm in Denver, a big shot outfit with high-profile corporate accounts, a handful of local celebrities and more than one disreputable client with a reputation for shady deals.

  When she answered the call, my sister immediately asked me to hold for a moment. I used the time to check my manicure and file a couple of nails that broke that morning as I attempted to dislodge a child’s shoe from the toilet in the ladies’ restroom. One of our regular customers had left her three-year-old girl unattended for less than a minute. The tiny rebel had used that split-second opportunity to do away with one of the sneakers that she had decided were not a match for her outfit.

  “Are you still there?” Olivia gushed when she finally came back on the line.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She was panting and wheezing, like someone who’d just finished a 100-yard dash.

  “I didn’t know that I’d be gone so long,” she said. “I was closing my door when one of the partners needed me.”

  “I called you at work,” I said. “I understand that business comes before annoying interruptions from your baby sister.”

  “Oh, shut up!” she teased. “You’re not annoying, Katie. At least, not that often.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?”

  “That’s what they tell me!” She giggled softly. “So what’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “I have a question for you,” I said.

  “Yes, I love you more than Brody,” she said with another laugh.

  “What is going on with you?” I asked. “Two martini lunch? I haven’t heard you this giddy in ages.”

  “I’m choosing joy,” she said, with a deep vein of sincerity in her voice. “I made the conscious decision to look on the bright side.”

  I waited for a moment. Then I said, “Does this conscious decision involve medication?”

  “Stop that!” she squealed. “I’m serious about this! Cooper and I went to a seminar last week on meditation and the power of positive thinking.”

  “Uh-oh,” I interjected. “My brother-in-law at a meditation class? That doesn’t sound quite right.”

  “He actually suggested it,” Olivia said. “Someone at the office was talking about how beneficial it’s been for her marriage. Coop did some research online and came home with the news that we were going to a two-hour lecture about deliberative reflection. It’s supposedly helpful for everyone, with or without problems in your marriage.”

  “Well, how do you like that? I guess some old dogs can learn new tricks.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Did you only call to give me grief about my husband’s age? Big deal if he turned forty. It’ll happen to you one day, too.”

  “No, I was calling about something else,” I said quickly.

  “Good,” Olivia said. “Because you’re just a couple of years behind me, okay? If I’m old, you’re trending in that direction.”

  “Let’s drop the age thing,” I said. “After all, it’s just a number. And Cooper still looks pretty good for his age.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said skeptically. “What else is new? You call to ask me a question, but end up insulting the love of my life.”

  “I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  She heaved a sigh. “That’s what the boys said the other day after they broke the sliding glass door playing soccer in the house.”

  “Ouch! How much did that cost?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Coop took care of it. So what did you want to ask me?”

  “Can you meet me for a coffee later? I’m driving down to do a little research into something that happened the other night. I thought that if you could spare the time, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your firm.”

  “Do you need an attorney?” she asked.

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” I said. “But if you can get together later, I’ll explain it all to you.”

  “Sure,” Olivia said. “I can do that. What time and where?”

  “How about five-thirty at Bean & Company?” I suggested. “It’s downtown on Wazee near the stadium.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “And remind me to tell you more about the meditation for couples retreat. It’ll blow your mind!”

  “After the past couple of days,” I said, “that shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “Isn’t this place cute?” asked my sister as she swept into Bean & Company later that afternoon. “They have another location, but I always stop here for coffee when I’m in this part of town.”

  “It’s very nice,” I said. “Someone mentioned it to me a few weeks ago. They discovered it when they came down for a baseball game, so Zack and I tried it last month when we came to town for a little Sunday afternoon shopping expedition.”

  Olivia’s eyes flashed with joy. “I’m so glad that you like it! They’ve got great coffee. They’re convenient to the stadium. And the train station is just a couple of blocks away.”

  “What more could anyone need?” I said.

  She plopped down in a chair. “Well, I could use a few more hours in the day. I’m burning the candle at both ends this week.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The usual,” she said, raising one hand to cover a yawn. “Both boys are super busy with school and morning soccer practice and there’s a tournament coming up and Cooper’s out of town for a couple of days. So guess who gets to play chauffeur and laundress and human ATM?”
/>   I smiled.

  “Were we difficult at that age?” she asked.

  “I can still be difficult,” I joked, hoping to earn at least the sliver of a smile.

  My sister huffed. “Oh, that’s bull and you know it, Katie. You’ve got the perfect husband, the perfect job and the—”

  “Do you want me to buy you a coffee?” I asked.

  She responded with another yawn.

  “Sit tight,” I said, getting up from the table. “What would you like?”

  “Cappuccino, please. And maybe something to nibble on. I skipped lunch, and now I’m starving.”

  Since there was no line at the counter, I was back at the table in less than ten minutes. My sister was on her phone when I returned, whispering to someone on the other end about what sounded like plans for a surprise birthday celebration.

  “Why were you whispering?” I asked when she put away the phone.

  Her eyes darted around the room. There was no one within earshot, so the cloak and dagger maneuver seemed unnecessary.

  “It’s a top secret party,” she said. “For someone in town with a very high profile.”

  “Anybody I’d know?”

  She glared at me. “Do you know any celebrities?”

  “Besides you?” I teased.

  “Don’t be a pain,” Olivia replied. “I’m sworn to secrecy. I haven’t even told my husband.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “That’s how it starts. The next thing you know, you’re enrolled in weekly meditation sessions.”

  Her face went red. “Just! Stop!”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve probably had too much caffeine today.”

  She tasted her cappuccino, offering a thumbs up when she put down the cup again.

  “So?”

  “You’re wondering why I wanted to talk?” I asked.

  “Yes. You did that Winston Churchill thing in the message you left when you called the second time this afternoon.”

  “Which one?”

  “Don’t be daft,” she said. “The ‘riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma’ thing.”

  “Oh, that thing,” I said. “Some folks call it a chicken, wrapped in a duck, inside a turkey.”

  She rolled her eyes. I rolled mine right back.

  “Sorry, sis,” I murmured. “I’m in a weird mood.”

  “Well, snap out of it!” she said, giving her watch a glance. “The boys are having dinner at a friend’s house tonight, so I made reservations for us at City Oasis.”

  “Which is?”

  She glared at me. “You’re not a rube, Katie. Are you playing some kind of weird game?”

  “No game,” I said. “I’ve never heard of the—”

  “Yes, you have! It’s the steakhouse in the Fenwick Hotel. I understood that much of your message; something about a guy named David Rigby is—”

  “Darren Rigby,” I said.

  “Well, whatever!” Olivia huffed. “Someone that you know is involved in something bad with Leo Leachman.”

  I smiled. “I didn’t say it was anything bad.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” my sister replied. “If it involves Leo, it’s definitely something shady. The man is a complete jerk, so I hope your friend Darren isn’t getting into anything that he can’t handle.”

  “Darren’s actually our neighbor in Crescent Creek,” I said. “I think you met him once briefly last year when you and Cooper came up for the weekend. Darren and his wife bought the house to the south of Sky High shortly before I came back from Chicago. It’s the big stone thing with the pool, tennis court and guest cottage.”

  Her forehead creased. “I thought somebody named Sheila lived there.”

  “That’s Darren’s wife,” I said.

  Olivia took in the news, bit her lower lip and drank more of her cappuccino.

  “Is that hitting the spot?” I asked.

  “It’s good,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat any of the cookies?” I pointed at the plate loaded with a selection of sweet treats. “You told me to get something to nibble on.”

  She picked up one of the snickerdoodles, took a small bite and put it back on the plate.

  “Yummy,” she said.

  “Should I get a box?” I suggested. “Then you can take those home to the boys.”

  “Probably a good idea,” she said. “I spaced out the dinner reservation when I first got here. We shouldn’t spoil our appetite.”

  “So we’re going to the steakhouse because it’s in the hotel?”

  She smiled. “So smart!”

  “Hey, take it easy,” I said. “I don’t need the sarcasm.”

  “Sorry,” she offered in a hushed voice. “I guess we’re both in weird moods.”

  “I guess so,” I said. “And before they get any weirder, tell me what you know about the King of Fun Furniture.”

  “Leo the Loser,” she said. “I can describe him in four words: sketchy, sketchy and super sketchy.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse,” Olivia replied. “Our firm used to represent his businesses, but that’s no longer the case as of six months ago.”

  “Oh?”

  “Is that why you called me?” She arched one eyebrow. “Trying to get the inside scoop?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Well, you know that I can’t say anything more,” she told me. “I was never on the account, but I still have to respect the attorney-client privilege.”

  “And yet you gave me that definitive and comprehensive four-word description?”

  She laughed. “That’s common knowledge. I mean, if you follow the local business news. Leachman is notorious for appearing on the Call for Action segments where the reporter is chasing him through the parking lot, trying to get him to comment about complaints or law suits filed by disgruntled customers.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” I said. “I rarely watch the news at night.”

  “You should Google him,” she suggested. “You’ll find plenty of shady stories about legal trouble, all of which he settles out of court.”

  “Seriously?”

  “His pockets are deeper than the deepest ocean,” she said. “He weaponizes his bank accounts and his legal representation to get people to settle. And when they do, Leo insists on non-disclosure agreements.”

  “How do you know so much about the guy if you didn’t handle his account?” I asked.

  “Gossip around the firm,” she said. “One of the attorneys left to work for Leo. He and I teamed up on another account a couple of years ago, so we were friendly until the lure of bigger paydays and trips on the corporate jet proved irresistible.”

  “Do you still talk to him?”

  She smiled and sipped the cappuccino again. Then she said, “Only because I really like his wife. Cooper and I go out to dinner with them every so often. She’s a lovely, lovely woman; probably one of my best friends. How she puts up with her husband working for such a troll is beyond me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s almost like socializing with the boss is mandatory,” she said. “When Stan left our firm and went to work for Leo Leachman, Stella didn’t have a clue about all of the red tape. She just thought it was a momentary blip on her husband’s resume. He’d gotten bored with standard corporate work—you know, contracts, mergers, acquisitions—so we all thought he took the job with Leachman simply for the cash. But it’s almost like he signed a blood oath or something. It’s weird and…” She laughed. “I’m sorry, Katie. I’m rambling. You’re looking for information about Leo Leachman, not my former coworker. One thing I did hear at the office was that Leo’s in business now with a sanctimonious guy you might know.”

  I laughed. “Because I hang out with so many of those types, right?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Olivia said. “This character moved to Crescent Creek fairly recently. His name is—”

  “Tony Hett?”

  Her mouth plopped open. “How
’d you know?”

  “It was a lucky guess,” I said. “Tony’s involved in the situation that I’m looking into, but I haven’t heard about his arrangement with Leo.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “I should’ve called you the second I heard that Mr. Leachman was involved with someone from home.”

  “Actually, it’s fine,” I said. “You just gave me some great background.”

  She smiled. “Oh, good! So what’s the deal with Darren? Is he in the furniture business?”

  “No, he and Sheila own an engineering firm in Crescent Creek.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So…I don’t get it. Why is he meeting with Leo?”

  “If I could answer that question,” I said, “maybe Darren would already be back home.”

  Olivia squinted even more. “Now I’m totally confused,” she said. “You make it sound like he’s been abducted by aliens or went missing on a hike.”

  “Neither of those two things,” I said. “But he’s lost alright. It’s a long story. Maybe I should keep it for dinner?”

  “Oh, right!” She swiped her phone to check the time. “And that’s a perfect transition. We should get out of here and head to the Fenwick.”

  “That works for me,” I said, getting up from my chair. “I’ll get a little box so you can take the cookies to the boys.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Do you want me to call Stella and Stan to see if they can join us later for dessert? Maybe they’ll know something that will be helpful for your Darren Rigby case.”

  “The guy that left your firm to work for Leachman?” I said.

  “That’s the one,” she replied. “They live right around the corner from the hotel. If they don’t have plans, I bet he’ll jump on the chance to brag about his new cushy job.”

  “Can’t wait!” I joked. “He sounds like a real barrel of laughs.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to learn if my sister’s former coworker was a charming gentleman or a complete dolt. When Olivia called Stella on the way from the coffee shop to the Fenwick Hotel, the attorney’s wife gleefully accepted the invitation before explaining that her husband was on the way to Las Vegas with his employer.