Death Before Diamonds (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 10)

by Mary Maxwell

  “Wow,” I said. “You sound pretty ticked.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Marv said sharply. “The Silver Dollar’s been here for sixty years. We’re a family business. Do you know what I mean? We don’t cater to criminal types and we don’t tolerate hanky-panky. If cheating husbands and wives are looking for a place to do their monkey business, they know that this isn’t an option.”

  I smiled at the man’s summary of his motel. Then I asked if he happened to know where Theo was headed after he left Frisco.

  “West,” Marv said. “I know that’s not very specific, but that’s all he said.”

  “It’s a start.”

  “True enough,” he agreed. “But, if I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t try too hard to find him. There was just something shady about that whole deal.”

  “You mean when the other man kicked in the door?” I asked.

  “Yes, indeed,” Marv replied. “People don’t do things like that if they’re dropping by to visit friends.”

  “I don’t disagree,” I said. “But, like I told you, I’m just trying to help his brother. He seems pretty convinced that something bad happened to Theo.”

  “I hope he’s wrong. I’m no fan of the guy after the door incident, but I’d hate to think that he ran into truly nasty trouble out there somewhere.”

  “No doubt,” I said. “Was there anything else you remember about him?”

  “About Theo Greer?”

  “Yes. Anything he said. Something you noticed.”

  “Not really,” Marv answered. “Until that jerk showed up and busted the door, Theo seemed like a normal type of guy. He looked like just any run-of-the-mill traveler going cross-country to visit a friend.”

  “That’s what he told you?” I said. “He was out here to visit a friend?

  “Yes,” Marv said. “When he checked in, Theo said he was on an extended vacation and was driving from coast to coast.”

  “Do you know what kind of car he had?”

  “It was a Ford pickup,” the motel manager said. “Brown with plenty of rust.”

  “Thanks, Marv. You’ve been a big…oh, say. One more thing. Is there any chance you have Theo’s phone number?”

  He laughed. “The police asked the same thing,” he told me. “Normally, I wouldn’t get in the middle of something like this, but I can pass your number along to him if you’d like. I mean, after all, you sound legit. And you’re friends with my wife’s interior decorator, so what other credentials might you possibly need?” He paused and chuckled again. “Not to mention that I Googled your café while we’ve been on the phone and I can see that you look like a really level-headed sort.”

  I smiled at the unexpected praise.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I like to think of myself that way.”

  “Don’t we all,” Marv said. “Don’t we all.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Zack and I were having dinner that evening at Café Fleur. The restaurant was noisy and crowded, but our table felt like a hushed and serene oasis.

  “You look amazing in that dress,” he said, taking my hand. “Blue is a good color for you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, handsome. This one’s black, but I appreciate the compliment.”

  He leaned closer, studying my sleeve. “Looks blue to me, Katie. Maybe it’s the lighting in here.”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” I said. “It was sweet of you to say something.”

  He raised my hand to his lips, kissed it gently and then squeezed. “I think you look fantastic wearing any color, babe. Or, for that matter, not wearing any color at all besides your birthday—”

  “Look who’s here!” someone squealed. “It’s the cutest couple in town!”

  We both glanced up to find Marion McGill standing beside the table. The slender fiftysomething brunette was wearing a tailored blue blazer over a white cashmere turtleneck and black leather pants. She and her husband owned Crescent Creek Animal Clinic, where they tended to a wide array of pets and their human companions. Marion and Herb met and fell in love when they were both enrolled in the Doctor of Veterinary Medicine Program at Colorado State. Although they briefly flirted with the idea of relocating to Arizona or New Mexico after graduation, they decided to stick closer to home when the Animal Clinic’s previous owner announced that he was hanging up his stethoscope for good. The fact that the retiring vet was also Herb’s father helped the couple decide to stay in Colorado.

  “How are you, Marion?” I asked.

  “Can’t complain,” she said, sitting in one of the empty chairs at our table. “How are you kids doing?”

  “We’re both good,” I answered. “Where’s Herb?”

  She nodded at the front door. “He and Pete are parking the car.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” I said. “I ran into Pete at Tipton’s not too long ago, but I haven’t seen Sheila for ages.”

  Marion’s expression darkened. “I guess that you didn’t hear the news,” she said glumly. “Blanche Speltzer found out yesterday, so I figured everyone within a thousand-mile radius would’ve heard by now.”

  “What news?” I asked as Zack covered his mouth to keep from laughing. “I saw Blanche earlier, but she didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, it seems that my dear, darling brother-in-law is having a massive midlife crisis,” Marion said, lowering her voice. “He and Sheila are taking some time to figure out…” The front door opened and she paused briefly to see the new arrivals. “I don’t want Pete to think that I’m talking about it behind his back,” she continued when a family of four stepped in from the sidewalk. “Even though that’s absurd because everyone in here is going to see him in that ridiculous—”

  She stopped when the door opened again, watching silently as her husband and brother-in-law walked into the café. Herb McGill was dressed in his usual attire: dark business suit, crisp white shirt and colorful patterned bowtie. His brother Pete, walking a few steps behind, looked like the polar opposite of his shipshape sibling.

  “Is that a caftan?” Zack whispered, staring at Pete’s long belted tunic. “Or a circus tent?”

  “Neither!” Marion snapped. “It’s his stage costume for the stupid band that he started! They have a gig later tonight at a private event.”

  “Pete’s in a band?” I said in disbelief. “What about the plumbing business?”

  Marion scowled, watching the McGill brothers as they moved across the crowded room. A few diners stared silently at Pete’s peculiar attire, but most continued eating and talking without noticing the duo.

  “They both inherited a boatload of money from a distant relative a couple of months ago,” she quickly explained. “Herb and I are using our share to start a scholarship for veterinary students at CSU. Pete decided the windfall was a sign from somewhere up above that it was time to fulfill his childhood fantasy of being a rock star. He put an ad in Boulder Buzz for musicians, bought a dozen of those silly tunics and converted the garage at his office into a recording studio.”

  “What kind of music do they play?” I asked.

  “The crappy kind,” Marion hissed. “Now, please don’t ask him questions about it, okay? Just pretend he’s wearing a Broncos jersey and ratty jeans like he usually did before he went completely bananas.”

  When Herb and Pete arrived at our table, they greeted us warmly before asking Marion if she was ready to be seated.

  “Looks like I beat you to it,” she joked.

  “Come on, honey,” Herb said, taking her hand and waiting while she stood. “Let these two lovebirds enjoy their romantic dinner.”

  After the trio had moved on to their reserved booth in the back, Zack asked if I’d heard anything around town about Pete’s fledgling musical endeavor.

  I shook my head. “That’s the first time I’ve heard the news. How about you?”

  He laughed. “Pete actually called the entertainment reporter at the newspaper to ask about photographers he could hire to document the band’s inaugural stages,” Za
ck said. “He asked me to take candid shots during their first jam sessions in the old dance hall above Smoky Joe’s.”

  “Is that why you smelled like barbecue last Thursday night?” I asked.

  Zack nodded. “Pete asked me not to say anything about the band until the divorce was filed.”

  “Divorce? I thought Marion said it was a trial separation.”

  Zack winced. “I don’t know, babe. I’m just telling you what Pete told me.”

  “Well, I sure hope somebody tells Sheila,” I said. “The end of a marriage is tough enough without being left in the dark.”

  “I agree,” Zack said. “But that’s pretty much their business, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

  “There’s another rehearsal tomorrow night,” Zack said a moment later. “Want to join me?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “What kind of stuff do they play?”

  He chuckled. “It’s…uh, very original.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, imagine if you’re at home listening to one of the early hits by the Beatles,” he answered. “And pretend that Paul McCartney and John Lennon are singing after they’ve inhaled a bunch of helium. And then someone in the next room starts yodeling and sawing away on a fiddle. And then, just when you think it couldn’t get any more confusing, a car drives by with hip-hop blaring from the speakers.”

  “Wow!” I said. “That does sound original!”

  “It’s some of the most bizarre music I’ve ever heard,” Zack said. “Do you want to go tomorrow?”

  I made a face. “Not if my life depended on it, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 10

  As I measured brown sugar for a batch of cookies the next morning, Julia slipped around the center island in the Sky High kitchen. She was enjoying a quick cup of coffee during a lull in the breakfast orders, and I could tell she had something on her mind. As I poured the sugar into one of my grandmother’s vintage mixing bowls, Julia flaunted a charmingly inquisitive smile.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  I nodded, waiting for the follow-up.

  “Why didn’t you call the police when that lunatic was here yesterday?”

  “Which lunatic?” I teased.

  She glared. “You know who I mean,” she said. “That Rex guy.”

  “That’s who I thought you were talking about,” I said, checking the next ingredient on the recipe card. “And I didn’t call them because he doesn’t seem dangerous. He seems genuinely troubled by his brother’s disappearance.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be?” she said. “But isn’t that something for the CCPD or the Colorado State Patrol?”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “And that’s what I told Rex. It’s totally fine if he wants to put up flyers around town and ask people if they’ve seen his brother. But the best approach is filing a report and letting the police do their job.”

  “Do you think he’ll take your advice?”

  I shrugged. “Time will tell. I gave him Trent’s name and the non-emergency number. There’s not much more that I can do at this point.”

  Julia snickered. “At this point?”

  “What?” I said. “I told him that Harper remembered seeing his brother. And I promised to give him a call if anyone else remarks about the poster that he left on the bulletin board in the entryway.”

  She crossed her arms and eyed me warily. “Come on, Katie!” Her glib tone was shaded with doubt and cynicism. “I can practically hear the gears grinding in your brain. You love that stuff—mysteries, cold cases, unsolved crimes and all the rest.”

  “Lots of people do.”

  “But how many of them actually get involved in consulting with the local police to help crack cases?”

  I scowled at her playfully. “Plenty,” I said. “Do you think that I’m the only former PI in the world who still enjoys solving crimes or working out the details of an intricate case?”

  “You’re the only one that I know,” she said as Harper rang the bell in the pass window.

  “Hey!” she called. “Anybody working back there or do I have to cook Mrs. Avery’s short stack myself?”

  Julia put down her coffee and started around the island.

  “Hold your horses,” she called to Harper. “I saw her come in the door just now. I’ll have those pancakes up before you’ve even poured her tomato juice!”

  They both went back to work as I continued combining ingredients for the chewy brown sugar cookies that Dina Kincaid had ordered. Besides being a friend from childhood, Dina was the lead detective for the Crescent Creek Police Department. She, Trent and I had ended up in a high school love triangle, something that was horribly wrenching back then because Trent dumped me for Dina. But when they later married and divorced, I felt vindicated. And the truly ironic aspect of the equation was the fact that Trent also worked for the CCPD as Deputy Chief.

  As I scooped cornstarch for the cookies from a small plastic container, I smiled and thought about the long ago broken heart and how it had mended nicely over time. Of course, my current romance with Zack Hutton, a photographer for the local newspaper, had surpassed even the wildest dreams that I’d harbored all those years ago in school.

  “What are you sneering about?” Julia asked as I blended the wet and dry ingredients in the big stoneware bowl.

  “Am I sneering?”

  She made a face. “Oh, for sure! And I’ve seen that look before, Katie.”

  “Yeah? What does it mean?”

  Julia answered my question with a skittering laugh. Then she said, “It’s the silly grin you usually get about a minute before Zack walks in the door.”

  I knew that she was right, but I was in a mischievous mood. I’d slept well the night before. It was too early in the day for my lower back to be screaming in agony from hours on my feet. And I’d ingested just the right amount of caffeine to invigorate all of my bits and pieces from head to toe.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” I joked, giving Julia an exaggerated wink. “But I’ll take a look in the mirror this evening around seven.”

  She giggled again. “Are you guys going out tonight?”

  “No, he’s cooking at his place,” I answered. “Lamb chops with a port wine-cherry glaze and hasselback potatoes.”

  Julia frowned. “Hasselhoff what?”

  “Hasselback,” I said, remembering her deep affection for the old Baywatch series. “David Hasselhoff has nothing to do with this. Zack makes them all the time, and they’re delicious! He takes Yukon Gold spuds, cuts them almost all the way through in slender slices like an accordion and then drenches them in butter. Then he bakes them until they’re crispy on the outer edges and creamy smooth inside.”

  “Oh, those do sound good,” she said, flipping Mrs. Avery’s pancakes on the grill. “But you know how I feel about The Hoff. I thought I heard his name.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “And if Zack ever fixes something for me that was inspired by your beloved Hoff, you’ll be the first to know.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I was still in the kitchen a couple of hours later, arranging a dozen double fudge brownies in a paperboard box for a delivery. They smelled so good that I was tempted to start a second batch and indulge my sweet tooth when Harper whistled at me from the dining room.

  “You busy?” she called. “There’s someone on the phone.”

  “Does the someone have a name?” I asked.

  Harper gave me a simmering leer. “I’m sure they do,” she said. “But someone else is in the weeds out here so she didn’t have the time to ask.”

  “Sorry! Do you want me to come out and help?”

  “Maybe after you take the call?” she said. “I was doing great until six members of the Crescent Creek Crabby Committee started bickering about separate checks.”

  “Is that Betty Ritter’s book club?”

  She nodded. “How’d you know?”

  “I saw them come in the door,” I sa
id. “Let me get this call and then I’ll be right with you.”

  As Harper headed back into the fray, I asked Julia how she was doing with the flood of new tickets.

  “So far, so good,” she said with a quick nod. “But if I can’t handle it, you’ll be the first to know.”

  I flashed a smile, grabbed my coffee mug and dashed into the office. When I answered the phone, I heard someone singing in an off-key warble.

  “This is Kate,” I said.

  “Oh, no!” the caller yelped. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes, and it sounded lovely,” I said.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I know my voice is just plain bad.” She chuckled nervously. “Anyway, this is Caroline from Simply Chic. Pearl said you were interested in the fuchsia Wunder Under Pants.”

  I smiled again at the name. “Yes,” I said. “I wanted to know if you could tell me who bought the two pairs recently.”

  “That was Polly Ladd,” said Caroline. “She was looking for a gift for someone and thought they’d be perfect.”

  Polly had moved to Crescent Creek the previous year, shortly before I returned from Chicago. I hadn’t met her yet, but I’d heard a few things here and there. I knew that she worked in the travel industry. I’d heard that she was renting a house on Edgewood Road. And more than one source had confided that Polly’s temper could occasionally be both short and sharp.

  “Did she happen to mention who the tights were for?” I asked. “I mean, if there’s a chance we’re both buying something for the same person…” I left the rest unspoken, hoping that Caroline would finish the thought. “You know what I mean? It can be so embarrassing when you go to a party and someone else brings the same gift.”

  “I’ve done that a couple of times!” she said. “And I totally understand. But Polly didn’t say who they were for.”

  “Darn my luck!” I tried to sound genuinely disappointed. “I guess that I’ll just have to take my chances.”