by Mary Maxwell
“Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded.
I smiled. “I’m sorry, Blanche. I wanted to finish taking care of Homer first.”
She scoffed. “Can’t chew gum and walk at the same time, huh?”
I let the barb sail right on by. Then I gently unhooked her fingers from my arm.
“Okay,” I said. “I give up. And I guess I owe you an apology for missing a meeting that I didn’t know we were having.”
Blanche frowned. “Your parents would’ve never done such a thing,” she said. “It’s unfortunate that they entrusted Sky High to someone so irresponsible.”
Harper hurried over just as Blanche was preparing to shake a bony finger in my face.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Speltzer!” she blurted. “This is actually my fault!”
Blanche’s hand trembled briefly before she put it back on the counter.
“I totally forgot to tell Kate that you wanted to talk to her,” Harper volunteered. “We got really busy after you were in yesterday. Between the Oldham kids vomiting and Jeanine Stubbs falling after she slipped on the upchuck, things got pretty crazy around here.”
Blanche raised her chin and glared at Harper down the length of her slender nose. “Do you expect me to believe all that twaddle?”
Harper bobbed her head. “Yes, ma’am. On account of it’s the truth.”
The old woman sighed dismissively. “One person’s fact is another person’s fiction,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to consult with Miss Reed about my very special order for the VFW Auxiliary meeting.”
Harper issued another apology before zipping away toward a table of women waving their menus in the air.
“That girl leaves a lot to be desired,” Blanche said. “What happened to the one that used to wait tables when your parents were here?”
“That was Augusta Ewing,” I said.
Blanche shrugged. “Well, why isn’t she still working here? She always did a flawless job.”
I waited until she’d finished smirking. Then I calmly informed her that Augusta Ewing no longer worked at Sky High Pies because she’d passed away.
“My heavens,” Blanche said quietly, averting her eyes. “I can’t believe that I never heard the news. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“So am I,” I agreed. “She was here for nearly twenty years. Never once missed a shift.”
The snarky expression returned to Blanche’s face. “Unlike someone else I know.”
“I’m sorry, Blanche. What more can I tell you?”
She reached into her purse and came out with a folded sheet of pale pink stationery. When she opened it and smoothed it on the counter, I glanced down at a neatly printed list written in black ink:
2 Peach
3 Boysenberry
1 Strawberry-Rhubarb
12 Blueberry Scones
12 Butterscotch Pecan Muffins
Tequila
Vodka
Light rum
Triple sec
Gin
When I finished, I looked up at Blanche. “Somebody’s making Long Island Iced Teas!”
She blushed, quickly folded the list in half to omit the alcohol and told me to mind my own business.
“Did you want to place an order for the pies and other goodies?”
She glared at me as her jowls quivered and her lips sloped into a frown. “What was your first clue, Sherlock?”
Before I could respond, Homer Dillon leaned over and tapped Blanche on the shoulder.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said. “But why are you being so rude to Miss Reed?”
I felt a surge of unexpected glee. For as long as I could remember, everyone in Crescent Creek treated Blanche Speltzer like royalty. She was the oldest resident. She’d taught in the local high school longer than anyone else. And her family had been among the original settlers when the tiny community was founded. When I’d worked at Sky High during my younger years, on weekends, holidays and school breaks, I’d learned to deal with the highs and lows of her unpredictable moods and crabby personality. And now that I was running the place, I’d continued to indulge Blanche’s whims and quirks—something that Homer Dillon had obviously decided not to do at that particular moment.
“What did you say to me?” Blanche demanded.
Homer repeated his question.
“It’s okay, Homer,” I interjected, hoping to avoid fireworks between the two regulars. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle it.”
Blanche sat forward in her seat. “You can handle it?” she squeaked. “Did you really just call me it?”
I smiled at Homer as he kept watch. “I meant the situation, Blanche,” I said, turning to face the furious spitfire. “Can we maybe start over?”
She glared at me silently.
“I’d like to offer an apology for missing the appointment yesterday,” I said as Homer sipped his coffee. “I don’t know how our lines of communication here at Sky High got crossed, but I am so very sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
Homer grumbled something, but it was lost in a sudden swell of noise from a nearby table.
“What was that?” Blanche demanded, poking his arm. “Are you looking for a fight, Mr. Dillon?”
He slowly rotated the stool and leaned toward her. “You want to take this outside, Mrs. Speltzer?”
Customers at the nearby tables stopped chattering as the tension in the room escalated. Harper came toward me with a worried frown, but I smiled and motioned for her to keep taking care of the dining room.
“Before things get ugly,” I said calmly, “can you and I go to my office, Blanche? I’d like to discuss your order and make sure we have a chance to clear the air.”
She growled at Homer Dillon. Then she grabbed her purse, slid off the stool and tottered toward the hallway that lead to the back of the building.
“I’m sorry, Miss Reed,” Homer said. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You said what a lot of people in town have been thinking for years.”
As I turned to follow Blanche, she glanced at me. “I heard that, dear! Did you forget about my new hearing aids?”
“Sorry, Blanche!” I said with the perfect blend of regret and meekness. “It’ll never happen again.”
She rolled her eyes. “Until it does,” she said, giving me a wink. “I’m obviously having a bad day myself, Kate. But there’s a very good reason.”
We reached my office and I stepped to the side so Blanche could go through the door first.
“What happened?” I asked.
She slowly settled into the guest chair near my desk. “It’s my grandson William,” she said, smoothing her pale blue skirt around her knees. “He erased all of my Bold and the Beautiful episodes from the DVR. Now I missed seeing Katie tell Liam about Ivy.”
“That’s awful,” I said, circling the room to my desk. “Maybe someone else recorded it.”
Her forehead creased as she considered the suggestion. “You know,” she said. “That’s not a bad idea. Can I borrow your phone to make a quick call?”
I dipped into my pocket and handed her my phone. “Did you leave yours at home or something?”
“It’s right here in my purse,” she answered. “But if I call Lavinia Penfold from my number she won’t pick up.”
I watched while she pecked at the keys. Before the call connected, I asked if she and Mrs. Penfold were on the outs.
“I’d like to strangle the old goat,” Blanche hissed. “We went to the auction last Saturday at the Sullivan place and Lavinia said she’d never speak to me again after I grabbed the bedazzled fanny pack before she could.”
I tried to imagine either one of the elderly women wearing a fanny pack. But as the vaporous image began to form in my mind, Blanche hammered the top of my desk with her knuckles.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But I didn’t buy it for me, silly goose. It’s for my great-granddaughter in Flagstaff.”
<
br /> After Blanche got Lavinia Penfold on the line, discussed the soap opera situation and made peace about the fanny pack, she and I discussed the order for the VFW Auxiliary meeting.
“It’s my last time hosting,” she explained. “I want to pull out all the stops, Kate! I’m hiring a woman to play the harp and a tarot card reader and a couple of brawny young men to serve as waiters.”
“That sounds lovely, Blanche. Why is it your last time? Haven’t you been hosting the monthly meeting for the past twenty years or so?”
She smiled. “That’s correct, dear. And I do believe that two decades is long enough. I’m not getting any younger, and I think it’s time to start relaxing a little bit more. I’m thinking about traveling, maybe a cruise to Alaska or something similar.”
“In that case,” I promised, “we’ll do everything we can to help you host the best meeting in the history of Crescent Creek!”
“Thank you, Katie,” she said warmly. “I could always count on your grandmother and your parents. It’s nice to know that I can count on you, too.”
CHAPTER 15
After my conversation with Blanche, I escorted her to the front porch and then hurried to the kitchen to tell Julia about the conflagration between Mrs. Speltzer and Homer Dillon. As she listened to the story, she gaped at me in disbelief.
“Oh, c’mon!” she squealed. “Homer did not say that to Blanche!”
“Yes, he did.” I paused for a quick grin, gauging her reaction. “And if you don’t believe me, there were about a dozen other witnesses who heard him.”
She shook her head slowly and went back to pressing dough into a pie tin. “Well, I swear that I’ve fantasized about something just like that about a million times, Kate. But my mama taught me to respect my elders. I always wait until I’m far enough away so that Blanche’s satellite dishes can’t pickup my voice.”
I smiled. “Those new hearing aids are too good, aren’t they? I barely whispered a few words to Homer, but Blanche heard it all.”
“Oh, well,” Julia said. “Live and learn.”
“And then do it all over again,” I said, checking the prep list for the remaining items. “I’ll start on the shortbread cookies unless—”
“Done and done!” Julia said proudly. “I was going to cross them off, but then Harper had a huge ticket for Brenda Pinell and her kids.”
I grabbed the marker and updated the board. “Okay, then maybe I should get to work on Blanche’s special order.”
“What is it?” asked Julia.
I ran down the list that I’d scribbled on a sheet of paper. I omitted the Long Island Iced Tea ingredients, although I mentioned that Blanche’s guests might be a little hungover after their upcoming meeting.
Julia stopped working on the pie crust long enough to smile at me. “Do you think we’ll be that wild when we’re their age?”
“Doubtful,” I said. “We’re pretty straitlaced right now, aren’t we?”
She finished pressing dough into the tin. Then she pierced it with a fork and lined it with parchment paper.
“I suppose so,” she answered. “Although there was a day, before I got married and we had kids, when I was pretty much a party animal.”
“You?” I said hesitantly. “A wild child?”
She giggled. “Well, it wasn’t like juvenile delinquents on the loose or anything. But I did like to go out with my friends, have a few drinks, do some dancing.”
“And when was the last time you—”
The door slammed open. Both Julia and I jumped.
“Kate!”
It was Viveca, looking like someone in a complete panic. Her hair was stuffed under a knit cap, her cheeks were damp with tears and she was wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe and flip-flops.
“I just talked to Delilah!” she said in a wheezing rush. “She sounded really weird and I’m afraid…” She stopped to catch her breath, leaning against the counter and grabbing the front of her robe as it threatened to open. “I’m so sorry,” she went on. “I just completely panicked and ran over here!”
I could tell that Julia was dying of curiosity, so I raised one hand to stop Viveca for a moment.
“Okay, Jules,” I began slowly. “There’s a situation with Viv’s brother. And she asked for my help. Which is why she’s here looking like someone who’s just seen a—”
“We’ve got to go back!” Viveca blurted. “Delilah knows something! I can just feel it in my bones, Kate! There was something strange about her the other day, right?”
I nodded as Julia inched silently out of the room.
“Yes, she was different,” I said. “But I don’t think we should just race back to Denver. Maybe your brother will call and explain what’s going on.” I waited briefly, but she was still clutching her chest and panting heavily. “Or maybe he’ll just show up here in Crescent Creek,” I continued. “Stranger things have happened before.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about all of this, Kate.”
“That’s reasonable,” I said. “Someone left poisoned cupcakes at your brother’s doorstep. Then they killed his neighbor and threatened to do the same thing to Tim. I think the best thing you can do at this point is sit tight and wait for him to contact you.”
Her eyes lifted, fixing on me with a look of fortitude and dread. “Or for the police to call me and say that he’s been found dead somewhere.”
I went to the sink, washed my hands and then asked Viveca if she wanted a cup of coffee. She answered with a mutter. I filled two mugs and suggested that we go to my office and talk.
“I feel like I’m having one of those out of body experiences,” Viv said after she was situated in the guest chair and I’d closed the door. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s something weird about Delilah.”
“Besides her hair?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.
“No, I mean on the phone just now.” A feeble smile rose on my neighbor’s face. “Although, since you mentioned it, her hair did look pretty hideous.”
It was good to see Viveca’s sense of humor was still in there somewhere beneath the frenzied dash, the disheveled appearance and the edgy pronouncements about her brother’s innocence. After working as a PI in Chicago, I’d seen plenty of guilty people as well as the falsely accused. The hardest part about determining blamelessness or culpability was the cunning ability of human beings to fabricate stories that seemed plausible. Until the first fissure appeared in their alibi. Or the first witness recanted. Or something else happened to bring down the house of cards built from dishonesty and trickery. It was too soon to know the truth about Viveca’s brother; I’d never met the guy, so I didn’t have any firsthand experience. But I knew her. And I could tell that she sincerely trusted her brother and his account of the incident involving the tainted cupcakes.
As we sat in my office, quietly sipping from our mugs, I decided that a trip back to Denver was a good idea. I hadn’t planned on being away from Sky High again so soon, but I knew Julia was capable of finishing Blanche Speltzer’s special order not only by herself but with one hand tied behind her back.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said as Viveca finished her coffee and put the mug on my desk.
She nodded.
“If you’ll go home and try to relax,” I suggested, “I’ll do my best to get out of here a little early today so we can drive back down to Denver.”
Viveca’s face brightened. “Oh, I hoped you’d say that, Kate. The second I heard Delilah’s voice on the phone, I knew something wasn’t right. And I felt that we needed to go talk to her again.”
“Did you consider calling her back?” I asked.
Viveca frowned. “I did! But she still sounded weird and secretive. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
I shrugged. “Maybe she’s in shock.” I paused to let the thought sink in. “She lives in the same apartment building as a man who was poisoned and then suffocated to death. And even though she knows th
at Tim may—”
She slammed an open hand on my desk. “My brother didn’t do it!” Her voice filled the small office like a crack of thunder. “Okay, Kate? Tim. Isn’t. Guilty.”
“Take a breath, Viv. You’re upset. We’ll go back and talk to Delilah this afternoon. We’ll find out what she has to say and how she seems in person, okay?”
Her eyes were fixed on mine as she slowly stood and steadied herself with one hand on the chair.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I feel like such a complete wreck.”
I got up and gave her a long hug. “It’ll be okay, Viv. One way or another, it’ll be okay.”
CHAPTER 16
The door to Delilah’s apartment in Denver was ajar when Viveca and I arrived around four that afternoon. I knocked lightly, waiting for a reply as my neighbor shifted uneasily from side to side in the hallway.
“It’s already unlocked,” she whispered. “Can’t we just go in?”
I shook my head. She nodded and moved back to wait. As I listened for the sound of voices, a television or something to indicate the apartment was occupied, I considered reaching into my purse for the Glock. In the end, after hearing nothing but my thudding heart for several seconds, I went with my gut instinct that Delilah’s place was empty. After deciding that the gun could stay tucked away for the time being, I took a long, slow breath and gently nudged the door open with my hand.
“Kate?” Viveca tapped my shoulder. “What do you see?”
“Hold on,” I answered quietly. “Give me a minute so I can take a look.”
The tiny entryway was neat and orderly, but the portion of the living room that I could see was a tumble of books, CDs, hangars and clothing. It was like The Incredible Hulk had stomped through Delilah’s home, collected all of her belongings and thrown them up in the air.
“Hello?”
My voice echoed in the stillness.
“Delilah?” I said. “It’s Kate Reed and Tim’s sister.”
There was no reply, so I opened the door a little wider for a better glimpse of the room. Mismatched pairs of shoes were scattered in one corner. A pile of multicolored sweaters was draped haphazardly over the coffee table. The floor beside a scruffy wooden bookcase was covered with a jumble of books and magazines. Carryout menus from a popular Chinese restaurant—Lucky Jade Bowl—had fluttered down atop the shoes and books along with dozens of fortune cookies wrapped in clear cellophane. As I slowly shifted my gaze, one of the books on the floor caught my eye. I recognized the familiar blue paperback that a Sky High regular named Thurston Crane carried at all times: The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.
