An Imitation of Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 9)

by Mary Maxwell

  “I’ve never heard you mention her before,” I said. “Is she in the area?”

  Blanche shook her head. “She’s in your old stomping grounds, Katie. Marchella lives just outside of Chicago.”

  “Well, I hope she meets someone just as nice as the Guru of Love.”

  “Oh, I agree! Although I think they broke the mold when they made Boris.”

  “Speaking of love and romance,” I said. “Did you hear that Pia Lincoln is engaged?”

  In an instant, Blanche’s frothy smile vanished.

  “To that painter?” she said.

  I nodded. “Vito Marclay. Do I sense that you don’t approve?”

  She heaved an ominous sigh. “I was afraid that Pia would fall for his Rico Suave act,” she said. “I saw them at cocktail party at Todd and Myra’s about a month ago. Vito seems all sweet and wonderful, but I have my doubts.”

  A chorus of loud voices and rowdy applause sounded in the living room.

  “Uh-oh,” Blanche said, returning the vodka to the freezer. “We better check and see what those three are up to. I just had the carpet shampooed, so I don’t want any carnage in there.”

  When we walked into the living room a moment later, June and Roxie were in the middle of the floor, clenched in a tight hug. Gilda stood beside them, dabbing at one eye with a tissue.

  “What’s the latest?” asked Blanche.

  June and Roxie lowered their arms and turned toward us. They were both wiping away tears and sniffling softly.

  “We realized the best thing was to find the middle ground,” June announced. “Each director will serve for a period of three years and six months.”

  Blanche gave me a quick wink.

  “The middle ground?” she said. “That’s extraordinary, girls! I think we need to celebrate your breakthrough.”

  Gilda clapped her hands. “I agree! How about something truly naughty and wicked?”

  Everyone in the room slowly turned and waited for the rest of the scheme.

  “I have a half-off coupon from Scoops of Joy!” Gilda added triumphantly. “Let’s get ice cream sundaes and just go wild!”

  “Shotgun!” Blanche shouted, reaching for her purse. “Who’s driving?”

  CHAPTER 3

  The next morning at six, as I nibbled a pecan praline scone and sipped a cup of coffee, Julia flashed a puzzled smile in response to the news scoop that I’d just shared with her.

  “Are you sure?” she said. “Pia Lincoln and that painter from New York?”

  I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I’d already repeated the story that Pia had shared the previous afternoon before we finished our meeting about cupcakes for Simone Strickland’s puppy.

  “Is there any chance you got confused, Katie?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I assured her. “I asked Pia to go over the details again before she left.”

  “I just find it hard to believe.”

  “Because Pia’s divorce was so bitter?” I asked.

  “No, because…” She let the thought fade into silence. “You know what? I don’t feel like discussing anyone’s divorce this morning. Let’s talk about something happy.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “I lost two pounds,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Is that happy enough?”

  Julia raised her arms and did a little dance. “That’s awesome!” she exclaimed. “How’d you do it?”

  “Willpower,” I said. “I’m eating every other bite when Zack and I have dessert.”

  “What do you do with the ones you don’t eat?” she asked.

  “I feed them to Zack.” I giggled. “His metabolism is like a freight train and he works out all the time. He can handle the extra calories.”

  She puckered her brow. “I wonder if Jared would go for that. We’re both trying to lose a few, so the closest I get to ice cream these days is the left turn lane on the street in front of Scoops of Joy.”

  “I feel your pain, sister!” I cheered. “But I have to tell you—the effort is paying off. You look amazing!”

  She frowned. “Thanks, Katie. But I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Harper told me that Scoops has a new flavor called Heavenly Hash that mixes chocolate, hazelnuts, cookie dough and coconut.”

  The corners of my mouth lifted. “They do! And it’s amazing! Pia brought a sample so I could try it yesterday during our meeting.”

  Julia nodded. “Was that for the dog’s birthday party she’s catering next month?”

  “Simone’s puppy is turning one,” I said.

  “And she’s going to feed ice cream to her dog?”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s for the two-legged guests,” I explained. “You and I are going to come up with some dog-friendly cupcake recipes for the birthday girl and her furry friends.”

  Julia’s eyes went wide. “Oh, really? We are?”

  “Did I forget to tell you that part?”

  She wagged one finger. “You did, but it’s all good. I made some killer peanut butter treats for our dogs not long ago.”

  “That sounds perfect! I’ll let Pia know we have at least one idea in the hopper.”

  As I took a final sip of coffee before heading to the walk-in, Julia asked me again about Pia’s engagement.

  “Are you absolutely certain?” she said.

  “Yes! What is the deal? You seem to be obsessing about that, Jules.”

  Her mouth twisted into a frown. “I suppose it would be best to withhold judgment until I’ve talked to Pia.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I agreed. “I mean, after all, it is her life.”

  “But she hated that guy the first time they met,” Julia said.

  “People change.” I shrugged and glanced at the day’s list of special orders and prep items. “You and I both have, so why not Vito Marclay?”

  Julia mumbled something unintelligible.

  “What was that?” I said.

  She heaved a sigh. “It’s none of my business anyway. But I really think Pia was more in love with Terrance.”

  “Who is that?” I asked. “I’ve never heard her mention the name.”

  “He owns a restaurant up in Boulder,” Julia answered. “They dated for nine or ten months after meeting through one of her catering clients. I think it was over before you moved back to town last year.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “Why isn’t she still dating the guy from Boulder instead of Vito?”

  Julia frowned. “Because Terrance’s mother didn’t like Pia.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That’s what I heard,” Julia said. “But, then again, I might be wrong. Pia told me the story one night at The Wagon Wheel as I was starting on my second Manhattan.”

  “You? Having two drinks in one night?”

  Julia blushed, turning her eyes to the floor. “I know, but Jared took the kids camping that weekend, so it was a rare opportunity for me to unwind a little.”

  “I think that’s great, sweetie! Was it a good night out?”

  She glanced up. “Yeah,” she said with a feeble smile. “It was good until the next morning. I woke up in the bathtub, still dressed and holding a carryout box from Pepper & Roni’s.”

  “Late-night pizza run after the bar, huh?”

  She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. When I called Pia later, she told me that Vito drove us both home because our designated driver ended up a little too tipsy.”

  “And who was your designated driver?” I asked.

  Julia reached for the recipe box on the counter and started flicking through the cards.

  “Jules?”

  She didn’t say anything, so I walked over to where she stood.

  “Julia?”

  She looked up.

  “Were you the designated driver that night?” I asked.

  She nodded sheepishly. “Yes, but you know what? I’m glad I had some fun. It had been a long time since I let my hair down.”

  I held up one hand for a high five.

&nbs
p; “Good for you!” I said as she slapped her palm against mine. “We all need to have some fun every now and then.”

  Julia grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. I had too much to drink that night. But we did the prudent thing by calling Vito, so it was a win-win for everybody.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Harper knocked on my office door that afternoon as I was entering scribbled notes from the inventory I did earlier into the wholesaler’s online entry system.

  “Katie?”

  I held up one finger. “Just a sec, okay? I don’t want to accidentally order tofu instead of turkey again.”

  She smiled and waited patiently while I completed the form.

  “Sorry,” I said, swiveling on my chair. “What’s going on?”

  “Call for you,” she said. “It’s Pia. She sounds upset.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Harper shook her head. “I asked if she was okay, but she started sniffling.”

  “She didn’t give you a clue?” I asked,

  “No,” Harper said. “And Camille Gribben just walked in with a half dozen quilters from Ireland, so I’d better get back out there.”

  The news made me smile. “Ireland?”

  “They’re from something called the Irish Patchwork Society,” Harper explained with a weak attempt at a brogue. “I guess Camille was chatting about quilting with someone during her trip to Dublin last year and they became friends. She invited a bunch of them to come over and see what Colorado is all about.”

  I glanced at the flashing button on the phone as Julia’s voice skittered down the hallway from the kitchen.

  “Harper?” she called. “Barb Fenwick is behind the counter helping herself to more coffee and Buck Westridge is bussing tables. Can you get back out there sometime this century?”

  Harper rolled her eyes. “She’s in a snit. I guess the munchkins were roughhousing last night at home and broke one of her New Kids on the Block wine glasses.”

  “Again?” I asked, suppressing a laugh.

  “She’s down to two now,” Harper said, turning back toward the dining room. “Which is kind of sad considering Jared bought her a set of six for her birthday last month.”

  After Harper left, I closed my laptop and picked up the phone.

  “Pia?”

  There was no response, so I tried again.

  “This is Kate,” I said.

  “Hello?” replied a faint, faraway voice that sounded nothing like the usually vivacious caterer.

  “Is that you, Pia?”

  She answered my question first with a heavy sigh. Then she said, “Katie? Can you come over to Vito’s right away?”

  The panic in her voice was unmistakable. It sounded like she was trying to keep from sobbing long enough to say a handful of words.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said. “But there’s blood everywhere and Vito’s gone.”

  The declaration hit like a thunderbolt. In one instant, my brain lurched from the minutiae of completing a dairy and produce order for Sky High to a calamitous surge of unanswered questions.

  “Okay, hang on,” I said. “Where are you right now?”

  “In his living room,” she told me. “The front door was ajar when I got here. After knocking a few times, I pushed it open and came inside.” She paused to exhale, a long, slow breath that I imagined was intended to help steady her nerves. “I was coming over to discuss our engagement party,” she continued. “But he’s not here. And there’s blood, Katie. Lots and lots of blood.”

  “Pia?”

  She whimpered. “What?”

  “Can you do something for me?”

  “Okay.”

  “Turn around and go outside to your car,” I said. “Then wait for the police to arrive.”

  “I didn’t call them yet,” she murmured quietly. “I mean, I would’ve called them. But when I pulled out my phone, I saw your number and remembered all the stories you’ve told me about working with the police in Chicago. I thought maybe you could calm me down enough so that I can actually…” Her voice had thinned to a ghostly whisper. “I’m starting to feel faint, Katie.”

  “Keep calm,” I said. “I want to stay on the phone with you until I know you’re outside and safe.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remember the story you told me once about your brother getting badly injured in a skateboard mishap?”

  When we first met, Pia and I had gone to dinner at Luigi’s, bonding over a long, leisurely meal and sharing details about our personal and professional lives. For some reason, the story about her brother, the first of many childhood memories she shared that night, bounced through my brain every time we got together for coffee or I heard her voice on the phone.

  “Do you remember telling me about that?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you had to run all the way home to get your parents?”

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “Well, try and think of this moment as something similar,” I continued. “It might distract you enough so that you can get through it.”

  “I’ll try,” she offered.

  “That’s great!” I said. “Are you ready for the next part?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here’s what I want you to do,” I told her. “Go outside, get in the car and stay put. I’ll call 911 as soon as you and I are done, okay?”

  “I guess so.” She sounded frail and bewildered, the telltale signs of shock setting in. “But what about Vito?”

  “The police will be there before you know it,” I said. “Are you walking outside?”

  I waited for her to answer, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Pia?”

  Again, nothing but silence, so I repeated her name a few more times before hanging up and calling the police. As soon as I relayed the information to the emergency operator, I grabbed my purse and keys before scrambling toward the kitchen and the back parking lot.

  “Where are you off to?” Julia called. “I thought we were going to work on Daphne’s order for—”

  But I was out the door before she could finish her question. Daphne Hewson’s caramel cupcakes with cinnamon-crunch topping would have to wait.

  CHAPTER 5

  Vito Marclay lived on Balsam Drive in an expansive property that featured a rambling two-story house and guest cottage behind a tall security fence. When I pulled into the gravel driveway a half hour after leaving Sky High Pies, I saw two Crescent Creek PD cars and Pia Lincoln’s Volvo sedan parked in front of the detached garage. Someone was sitting behind the wheel of one CCPD cruiser, talking on the phone and studying what appeared to be a plastic evidence bag. After leaving my car beneath a cottonwood tree, I approached the officer with slow, deliberate steps until he looked up.

  It was Stephen Castle, a 10-year veteran of the force and one of the best skiers in Crescent Creek. Before joining the department, Stephen had earned a criminal justice degree while working as a ski and snowboard instructor in Aspen.

  “Hey, Kate,” he said. “I heard you called this in.”

  I nodded. “Is Pia in the house?”

  Stephen shook his head. “Amanda just took her around back to sit on the terrace. She was pretty hysterical when we got here.”

  “Sounded like that when she called me,” I said. “What’s it look like in there?”

  He frowned. “Not pretty. We found a large pool of blood on the living room floor.”

  He held up the evidence bag. It contained a hunting knife that was stippled with brownish spots.

  “And this was beside the kitchen sink,” he added. “Right out in plain sight.”

  We both stared at the razor-sharp weapon. The blade appeared to be made from stainless steel and the wood handle was engraved with three letters: EAH.

  “Maybe someone’s initials?” I asked.

  Stephen grunted. “Beats me.” He pointed at the metal hand guard between the blade and grip. “I’d be more i
nterested to learn who the blood belongs to.”

  I leaned closer, narrowing my gaze to study the dark blotches.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Maybe the person who was wielding the knife accidentally nicked themselves during the incident?”

  He glanced up and smiled. “You make me laugh, Kate. Running that pie place when your heart still craves the good old days in Chicago.”

  I laughed softly. “I won’t argue with you on that, but I love being back in Colorado. And there are some things that I don’t miss about being a PI.”

  “Bad coffee on stakeouts?” he suggested.

  “That’s right!” I made a face. “Bad coffee, long hours and some of the cranky clients.”

  He smiled. “Well, don’t you still deal with long hours and difficult customers at Sky High?”

  “Now and then,” I said. “But at least the coffee’s always hot and tasty.”

  The lighthearted moment lingered briefly before we both went back to the knife in his hands.

  “Where did you find the victim?” I asked finally.

  Stephen looked up. “That’s the problem. We’ve got a pool of blood and this knife, but no vic.”

  I frowned. “Really?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “When Pia called, she was already pretty upset,” I said. “I figured that maybe she hadn’t mentioned Vito because she was in such a state of shock after seeing him either grievously wounded or dead.”

  Stephen put the evidence bag on the passenger seat as his phone rang.

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, checking the display on the screen. “We’ve searched the house and all the other structures on the property. No Vito. No anybody.”

  “Except Pia,” I said.

  Stephen’s eyes tapered. “You got it, Katie. Nobody here except her.”

  His phone continued to ring, so I asked if he needed to take the call.

  “It’s my sister,” he said. “I’ll give her a buzz later.”