by Mary Maxwell
“Hang on a sec, okay?” I heard scratching as he covered the phone. Then he came back on the line and told me that his girlfriend and the waiter were both threatening to leave. “I’m sorry, but we’re at dinner and I…” There was a brief pause. “I really need to go, Kate.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, feeling like a louse. “Thanks for telling me about the money in the freezer and Anton Hall.”
“You bet,” he said. “And thanks for telling me about the XZN screwdriver.”
“You’re welcome, detective,” I said with a quiet laugh. “Please tell your girlfriend and the waiter that I’m sorry for disrupting things.”
“I’ll be interested to hear what else you find out about Delilah and Anton,” he added. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
CHAPTER 31
Every window in my sister’s house blazed against the dark night when I pulled into the driveway. With two twelve-year-old boys and a forgetful husband, Olivia was forever pestering her family to turn off the lights when they left a room. As I made my way up the sidewalk to the front steps, I smiled at the glowing bungalow and reflected again on the guilt I’d been feeling about visiting Denver in the past few days without stopping to see her. I hoped that the bouquet of wild flowers in my hand and the chilled bottle of pinot grigio in the crook of my arm would restore me to good standing.
“Aunt Kate!” my nephew Caleb screamed when he answered the door. “Perfect timing!”
He held out one hand for inspection. I leaned in and saw the familiar racecar, thimble, Scottie dog and top hat from Monopoly.
“We’re just getting started,” he said. “What do you want to be?”
I reached over and tousled his hair. “I can’t stay, champ. I just stopped by for a sec to say hello and give these to your mother.”
He frowned. “She’s in the kitchen.” He waited until I’d stepped into the entryway before closing the door. “And dad already got her flowers yesterday.”
I followed my nephew down the hall toward the chorus of voices competing for attention. When I came around the corner, I saw my sister, her husband Cooper and Caleb’s twin brother Connor grouped around the table.
“Kate!” Olivia cried. “You’re just in time for Monopoly!”
I held out the flowers and wine bottle. “I can’t stay, Liv. I’m just here for a quick minute to deliver these and say hello.”
She got out of her chair, walked over and gave me a hug before taking the bouquet and pinot grigio.
“What’s the occasion?”
I smiled at her. “Nothing special. I had to come down again, so figured I’d pop in and see what sanity looked like.”
My brother-in-law released a gruff chuckle. “Things up in Crescent Creek making you crazy, Kate?”
“Crazier,” I said, walking to the table. “After watching Nana Reed and mom and dad do this for so many years, I kind of thought it’d be a breeze. But it’s hard work; physically, emotionally, psychologically.”
Olivia came over, pulled out a chair and pointed. “Sit,” she commanded. “I’ll pour you a glass of wine and you can tell us all about it.”
“I wish I could, Liv. I’ve got someplace else to be.”
She glared at me and put one hand on her hip. “What now?” she said, eyes bulging. “Another AA meeting?”
I shook my head. “Donut shop,” I answered, putting the chair back under the table. “And before you say a word, I’m being careful and I won’t do anything stupid.”
Cooper glanced up from the stacks of Monopoly money he was organizing. “What’re you working on, Kate?”
I quickly explained the situation with Viveca’s brother, carefully omitting any mention of poisoned cupcakes, murder victims and bundles of stolen cash hidden inside a frozen loaf of sourdough bread. While I debriefed the attentive crowd, my sister opened the bottle of wine and poured a splash into a juice glass.
“Did he run away from home?” Caleb asked.
I glanced at my nephew. “I don’t know, buddy. But that’s never a good idea for anyone. It’s better to stay right where you are and work out your differences.”
He instantly scoffed at the morality lesson. “Tell that to these two,” he said, nodding at his parents. “They won’t let me go to Susan Barstow’s next Friday night.”
I shot a quick smile at my sister. “What’s up with that?”
Olivia’s mouth puckered. “Well, it’s, um...” She glared at my nephew. “Caleb? Why don’t you get up and fix a glass of iced tea for Kate?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just here for a sec, remember?”
My sister put the cork back in the wine bottle and deposited it in the refrigerator without comment.
“So?” I asked when she finished. “Why won’t you let Caleb go to Susan Barlow’s on—”
“Barstow,” my nephew blurted. “Susan Barstow! And she’s only the coolest girl in school!”
Olivia shook her head. “Not now, Caleb. We’ve been through this about a million times. Susan Barstow is fourteen. And I’m sure her party will be tons of fun for all the other kids her age, but your father and I don’t—”
“Just forget it then!” Caleb howled, stomping out of the kitchen. “Forget I ever asked. Forget I live here. And forget that I was ever—”
The rest of his complaint disappeared behind his bedroom door as he slammed it on the other side of the house.
“Sorry about that,” my sister said remorsefully. “Somebody’s getting too big for their britches.”
Cooper laughed. “No, somebody’s interested in going to Susan Barstow’s party. That’s all; it’s normal, Liv. It’s what boys do when they get to be Caleb’s age.” He glanced across the table at my other nephew. “Right, big man?”
“Whatever,” Connor mumbled. “Are we gonna play or what?”
“Yeah, we’re playing,” my brother-in-law answered. “As soon as Kate and your mother finish their conversation, we’ll get going and you can beat everyone as usual.”
Connor flashed a toothy grin. “I always win,” he boasted. “Especially when it’s just me and mom and dad!”
“How great is that?” I walked over and gave him a quick peck on the top of his head. “I hope your winning streak continues.”
He puffed out his scrawny chest. “It’s all in the strategy,” he explained. “Get to three houses as soon as possible, bankrupt your opponents and buy railroads instead of utilities. Did you know there’s only a one in thirty-eight chance of profiting from utilities when you buy them?”
“I wasn’t aware of that, Connor. But thanks for the inside scoop.” I laughed, gave him another kiss on his noggin and turned to my sister. “You guys have a great night, okay?” I made a fist, punched my brother-in-law lightly on the shoulder and went over to Olivia. “I’m glad you were home, sis. And I’m sorry that I didn’t come by sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it, Katie.” She clamped one arm around my waist and we headed for the front door. “After such a long time in Chicago, you’re used to being completely independent from your family.”
I nodded. “True, but I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding you.”
“I didn’t. I just miss seeing you is all.”
I kissed her cheek and promised to call soon. “We should schedule something fun,” I suggested. “How about mani-pedis and lunch and some mindless retail therapy?”
“Is now too soon?” she asked as I opened the door and stepped outside.
“I’ll call you,” I promised. “And you better get back in there so Connor can bankrupt you before bedtime!”
CHAPTER 32
Tick-Tock Donuts was a riot of pink neon lights, blinking multicolored bulbs and air so heavy with grease that I probably gained five pounds just walking through the door. The guy behind the counter was round and short, like a fleshy bowling ball with a thin mustache and Coke-bottle glasses. I guessed his age at forty or forty-five, but the plastic badge pinned to his white shirt left no doubt about his nam
e.
“Welcome to Tick-Tock,” Buford drawled. “It’s a great day for a baker’s dozen!”
I slowly surveyed the array of sugary delights inside the glass case. “Can I have a vanilla frosted cake with sprinkles, please?”
He pinched a flat glassine bag from a stack on the counter. “Green, red, pink or silver?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your sprinkles,” he said with a syrupy twang. “We’ve got green, red, pink and silver.”
“Surprise me,” I suggested.
His tiny dark eyes peered at me through the chunky lenses. “I can’t do that,” he said, pushing the glasses up his nose with one knuckle. “Last time someone told me to pick out their donut, Miss Winthrop docked my pay.”
Between the earnest expression, darting eyes and somber tone of his voice, I could tell Buford wasn’t in the mood to tempt fate.
I waited until he looked directly at me before I smiled warmly. “I’d like silver sprinkles, please,” I said. “And you can tell Miss Winthrop for me that you’re doing an awesome job, Buford.”
His chubby jowls trembled as he laughed. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be right back. The vanilla frosted with silver are in the kitchen.”
As I waited for Buford’s return, I glanced around the narrow shop. From the laminated tabletops and gleaming subway tile on the walls to the radiant linoleum floor, the place was decorated entirely in blue and white.
At the far end of the room, near a doorway that I imagined lead to the restrooms, two men sat huddled in a booth. The one on the left was Anton Hall. He’d popped the collar of his leather jacket and pulled his knit cap low on his head. The other guy was wearing a porkpie hat, gray crewneck sweater and glasses with green-tinted lenses. One of his legs jutted out from the booth and I noticed his shoe. It was a white Chuck Taylor with a jagged black thunderbolt drawn on the rubber toe cap. While the two men continued talking in low voices, I got out my phone, pretended to check messages and snapped a couple of quick photos of their faces.
“Here you go, ma’am,” said Buford, reappearing behind the counter with a bag of donuts in his hand. “Don’t tell Miss Winthrop, but I’m giving you a trio for the price of a single.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “How much do I owe you?”
He quoted a price. Then he hesitated. “It’s on the house,” he said.
“But what about your boss? Won’t she be upset if you give things away for free?”
His mouth looped into a feral grin. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He slid the envelope across the counter. “Besides, she’s leaving to go work at Sunnyside Buffet. The owner here promoted me to night manager. I take over as soon as Miss Winthrop is gone.”
I congratulated Buford on the Tick-Tock upgrade and asked if I could use the women’s room. He pointed at the doorway just past the booth where the two men were whispering.
“I just cleaned it an hour ago,” he said proudly. “It should smell fresh as a daisy for you, ma’am.”
When I strolled past the booth a moment later, the guy in the porkpie hat looked up with a cold glare. I offered a faint smile and stole a quick peek at their table. In addition to half-filled cups of coffee and a pack of American Spirit cigarettes, I saw a bag of the same British candies found beside the murder victim in Delilah Benson’s apartment. Both men were intently studying a map of the state that showed several red circles drawn around small mountain communities west of Boulder.
After continuing my journey and stepping into the women’s restroom, I pulled out my phone and dialed Viveca. As I counted the rings, I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the tiny white porcelain sink. In the harsh glare of the overhead light, there were enormous dark splotches under my eyes and my skin glowed with a bluish tint. I was about ready to give up when Viveca answered.
“Hi,” she said, panting lightly. “Sorry it took so long, I couldn’t find my phone.”
“That’s okay. I’m a very patient woman.”
She snickered softly. “Are you home already?”
“No, I’m still in Denver.”
“How’s it going?”
I gave her a quick update on my conversation with Detective Caldwell. I told her about the money hidden in Delilah’s freezer. I told her the police suspected it was somehow connected to the dead man that we found. And then I told her that Anton Hall had a less than stellar reputation.
“Who’s that?”
“The guy we saw in your brother’s building,” I said. “The one with the bald head and the gold earrings.”
She took in a quick breath. “That is so weird that you mentioned him,” Viveca said. “I was going through more of the emails that I got from my brother and there was a picture of that Anton guy with Delilah, Tim and a couple of other women.”
“And your brother sent the picture to you?”
“Not intentionally,” she explained. “He was forwarding it to some guys he knows in Austin. I’m guessing that Tim added my email address accidentally.”
“Can you send it to me?”
“I’m sitting at my computer right now,” she answered. “Hang on a sec.”
While Viveca tapped at the keyboard, I studied my face again in the mirror. I used an index finger to gently pull the skin away from the corner of one eye, trying to see if it would make me look less haggard.
“Did you get it, Kate?”
I checked my email to confirm that the photograph had arrived. Then I asked Viveca to see if she could find anything else in her brother’s correspondence that might help us identify his other friends and acquaintances.
“Like what?” she asked.
“More pictures,” I said. “Anything about the places where his band plays in Denver, restaurants they frequent or clubs that they like.”
She agreed to sift through Tim’s notes as soon as we got off the phone. Then she asked me to promise something.
“What is it?” I said.
“That you’ll be careful, Kate.”
As I started to reply, I heard a muffled sound at the far end of the restroom. Moving closer and leaning down, I saw a pair of feet in the last stall. When my eyes focused on them, I felt a blast of adrenaline rush through me.
I was staring at another pair of Chuck Taylors with jagged black thunderbolts drawn on the toe caps. Before the person in the stall had a chance to come out and see my face, I quickly opened the door and headed down the short corridor.
“Kate?”
In the shock of discovering that I hadn’t been alone in the women’s restroom, I’d nearly forgotten that Viveca was still on the phone.
“Promise that you’ll be really careful, okay?”
I started walking again, doing my best to sound casual and relaxed as I returned to the front of the donut shop.
“I promise,” I said. “As long as you—”
I stopped in my tracks. The booth was empty. And the two men were gone.
“Kate?” Viveca said again as I slowly moved toward the counter. “Is everything okay?”
Buford came out from the kitchen carrying a tray of glistening glazed donuts.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “But I need to call you back.”
I quickly tapped the screen and opened the new email from Viveca. I checked the image of Tim, Delilah and Anton Hall. It was a slapdash candid shot taken during a party in a nondescript living room. They were sitting on a sofa looking slightly drunk. The coffee table in the foreground was covered with beer bottles, crumpled bags of pretzels and grease-stained pizza boxes. I smiled when I took a closer look at the two women on either end of the sofa. On the left, with a bottle of wine in her hands, was Heidi, the twin with the green hair. And on the right side, wearing the familiar faux fur jacket, was Lois. She was leaning against Anton Hall, one arm around his shoulders and the other positioned beneath his chin.
“Would you like anything else?” Buford asked when I approached the counter.
“No, but can I ask for a f
avor?”
He smiled. “What can I help you with, ma’am?”
“Do you recognize anyone in this picture?”
I held out my phone. He leaned forward and examined the photograph. Then he shifted his gaze in my direction. “They’re all regulars,” he said. “Anton was just here.” He raised one plump arm and pointed toward the empty booth by the restrooms. “And that lady comes in here sometimes.” He narrowed his gaze for another look before gesturing at Delilah. “But she’s never alone,” he said. “She’s always with a guy.”
“Anton?”
Buford shook his head. “No, she comes in with somebody named Tim.” He checked the picture again. “Yeah, right there,” he said, pointing. “That’s Tim.”
“Okay, so Tim and Delilah come in together sometimes,” I said.
“Yes, and the other two women come in with Jake and Anton.”
“Jake Breen?”
“Yes,” Buford said. “I’m glad they finally left.” He looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “They were camped out in that booth for almost three hours.”
“Oh, so that was Jake?” I asked. “The guy that was sitting over there with Anton?”
Buford smiled. “The one and only,” he answered. “Anton and Jake are here just about every night.”
“Wow,” I said. “I guess they really are regulars!”
He angled his head to one side, gesturing at the assortment of donuts in the case. “Can you blame ’em?” he said proudly. “Tick-Tock has the best donuts in town!”
“Do you know if Jake and Anton work together?” I said. “Or maybe they’re just buddies?”
He smirked. “They act almost like brothers. Jake’s older and he always yells at Anton.”
“I guess some guys behave that way, right? Whether they’re brothers or just good friends.”
Buford shook his head. “Not me and my brother. We treat each other nice.”
“Well, he’s lucky to have you as a sibling,” I said. “Which of you is older?”
He grinned like the Chesire Cat. “Me,” he said. “By two years.”
