by Mary Maxwell
A sly smile appeared between his dimpled chin and perfect nose. “So, what’s the real number?” he asked. “Twenty-four?”
I laughed. “Add another six years and you’ll be right on the money.”
His mouth dropped open. “Wow! You still look awesome for someone that old!”
For a fleeting moment, I considered dispensing a few words of sage advice about polite conversation with someone you don’t know. But then I realized the time would be better spent trying to uncover helpful clues about Rex’s assault and Theo’s whereabouts. I thanked Ken for the information, checked the time and decided to take a chance that Rory Thurber hadn’t changed his eating habits since the last time I saw him at Sky High Pies.
CHAPTER 20
When I turned the corner at Sawyer and Crestwood, the first thing that I noticed was the green neon sign in the window at Drake’s Deli. I’d lost track of how many months it had been on the fritz, but I smiled when I saw it blink OPEN TIL MIDNIGHT! for the first time in months.
Colin Drake’s sandwich shop was a popular spot in downtown Crescent Creek. It attracted business professionals in suits, teenagers at the end of the school day and a loyal crowd of regulars who appreciated the late-night hours and delicious fare. Since Rory Thurber was a creature of habit, I knew that he ate breakfast at Sky High nearly every morning and lunch at Drake’s Deli most afternoons. I figured it was worth a quick stop to see if he could tell me anything about Rex Greer’s trip to Edgewood Road the previous day.
“Hey, Colin,” I said, stepping through the door. “Your sign’s fixed!”
“At last!” replied the slim man behind the counter. “Dewey took his sweet time, but it looks even better and brighter than before!”
“Patience is a virtue, huh?”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that, Katie. I think Dewey got tired of me calling two or three times every week to ask how soon he planned to finish the job.”
The seating area was empty, but I spotted a paper cup and carryout bag on the counter.
“Has Rory been in yet?” I asked.
“He’s here now,” Colin said, nodding toward the narrow hallway that led to the restrooms. “Went to see a man about a dog.”
I smiled and took a seat at the counter. “How’s business? Zack told me that he stopped by last week and there was a line out the door.”
Colin smiled proudly. “Pulled pork,” he said. “The restaurant critic from the Gazette raved about it. Since then, lunch has been sheer bedlam. But I’m loving every minute of it!”
“Congratulations! I’ll have to dig through the pile of papers on my desk to find the review.”
He pointed at a framed clipping on the wall above a nearby booth. “It’s right there if you want to read it now.”
“Oh, that’s perfect,” I said, getting up from the seat. “I’ll take a quick—”
“There’s no soap in the dispenser!” a voice yelled down the hallway. “Just thought you’d want to—”
Rory Thurber stopped in mid-sentence when he saw me standing beside the counter.
“Oh, g-g-golly,” he blubbered. “Sorry about that, Katie. When I went back there, the place was empty.”
I smiled. “That’s okay, Rory. I’ve heard worse.”
Colin chuckled and asked if I wanted to order a sandwich.
“Actually,” I told him, “I came by to talk with Rory about something.”
“Sounds good,” Colin said. “I’m going in the back to slice ham if you two are all set.”
After he disappeared into the kitchen, I invited Rory to join me in the booth below the framed Gazette review.
I pointed at the newspaper article. “Colin told me that it’s a rave.”
Rory nodded. “The pulled pork is one of the best things I’ve ever had in my whole life,” he said. “I mean, besides the pies and cakes that you all serve at Sky High.”
“Thanks, Rory! That’s sweet of you to say.”
“It’s the truth,” he added. “And I believe that honesty is the best policy.”
“That’s what Nana Reed always told me.”
“Ah, what a gem she was,” Rory said wistfully. “I miss seeing her in the kitchen, you know. Zipping around, baking pies, telling her grandkids to keep their grubby little paws off the cookie jar.” His eyes twinkled at the memory. “How are your folks getting along down in Florida?”
“They’re good,” I answered. “Ornery and impatient and opinionated.”
“Some things never change,” he said with a warm smile. “My parents were the same; inflexible and cranky up until their last breath.”
We sat quietly for a few moments, reflecting on the warmhearted memories and inevitable passage of time. Then Rory heaved a sigh and pressed back against the seat.
“So, then,” he said. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“I did, yes. It’s about a passenger you had yesterday afternoon. Do you remember taking a guy from Java & Juice to Edgewood Road?”
Rory frowned. “That wackadoodle from back east?”
“His name is Rex Greer,” I said.
“Could be Mickey Mouse for all I care,” Rory griped. “The guy was a wackadoodle. Kept insisting that he was on a covert mission to find a criminal who’d escaped justice. Seemed convinced that they were holding his brother for ransom and only one person could save him.”
“And who might that be?” I asked. “Mickey Mouse?”
Rory chuckled. “Sounds about right. I just drove the guy to Edgewood Road and dropped him off.”
“Did he say anything else that you can remember?” I asked.
“I try to forget the wackadoodles, Katie.”
“Sure, of course.”
“But I did see where he went.”
My pulse jumped. “That would be helpful. Which house?”
Rory nodded. “I don’t recall the actual address, but it had blue shutters. To be honest, I wasn’t paying that much attention. My mission was driving the guy to where he wanted to go. After that, he was a free agent.”
“But you’re sure that he went to a house with blue shutters?”
Both of Rory’s gnarled thumbs shot up. “That’s affirmative,” he said. “Edgewood Road. House with blue shutters.” He smiled proudly. “Come to think of it,” he said. “The place also had a Kokopelli statue in the front yard.”
“Kokopelli?”
“Yeah, it’s that humpbacked character with the flute and feather headdress that Marilyn LaGuardia sells at her knickknack shop. Some people say Kokopelli is a fertility deity, but I think it just looks like a weird pixie with bad posture and a flute.”
CHAPTER 21
I’d been sitting in my car near the intersection of Edgewood Road and Sterling for twenty minutes responding to a few Sky High emails on my phone. The area was neat and tidy, with nearly identical bungalows in all directions. After my conversation with Rory Thurber, I’d hoped it would be a cinch to find the house with blue shutters and a Kokopelli statue in the front yard. Unfortunately, when I arrived and inspected the surrounding stretch of Edgewood Road, my expectation was thwarted; two houses directly across from one another featured blue shutters and figures of the legendary deity in the front yard.
“Copycats,” I muttered, glancing back and forth between the houses. “I wonder which one is the original, and which is the duplicate.”
As I considered flipping a coin to decide which door to knock on first, a car swerved around the corner, raced past me and slid into the driveway at one of the two Kokopelli bungalows. As I got out from behind the wheel and walked toward the house, a slim redhead emerged from a burgundy four-door with a Broncos pennant fixed to the antenna. She was wearing a black tank top, floral print calf-length tights and sapphire running shoes.
“Hi, there!” I smiled and waved. “How are you?”
She tucked a rolled yoga mat under one arm, slipped off her sunglasses and considered me cautiously.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“My n
ame is Kate Reed.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking my hand. “I’m Bitsy Curlew.” Her nose crinkled. “Well, it’s Bethany. But everybody calls me Bitsy.”
I guessed she was a few years younger than me, probably mid-twenties or so. From the faultless makeup, trim physique and coordinated workout gear, it looked like Bitsy Curlew spent plenty of time and money on her appearance.
“Good to meet you, too,” I said. “I know that you’re just getting home, so I’ll be brief. I wanted to ask if you had a visit yesterday from someone named Rex Greer.”
Her gaze narrowed. “No, sorry.”
“He took a taxi to your street around three-thirty or so,” I added.
She leaned into her car and came out with a black leather satchel. When she repeated the move, she had a bright green reusable grocery bag loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables.
“I wasn’t home until after that,” she said, slipping the two bags over one arm. “I taught a couple of classes and then stopped at the store.”
“Okay, so you didn’t talk with him?”
She frowned and held up one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“Are you with the police?”
“No, I’m from Sky High Pies,” I said. “The bakery café over on Pine.”
She lifted her chin, gazing at me with mild disdain. “I’m gluten free,” she announced in a sulky tone. “I steer clear of bakeries and such.”
I smiled fearlessly. “Well, we serve a full menu for breakfast and lunch,” I said. “You could always skip the breads, biscuits and sweet rolls.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. But I generally eat a pretty low-fat diet.” She patted her tight, flat stomach. “I need to stay in shape to motivate my students.”
“Do you teach yoga?” I asked.
“At the Community Center,” she said. “And also a couple of other places in the area. I’ve converted quite a few local folks since I moved to town.” She smiled and looked next door. “My neighbor’s a huge fan, but she travels for work and only comes to class a few times each month.”
“I know how that goes,” I said. “If I didn’t work around the clock, I’d be able to get more exercise.”
She gave me a quick once over. “You look like you’re in great shape.”
I shrugged. “I look okay when I’m dressed,” I said. “But when I’m naked and peep in the mirror, it’s pretty scary.”
“Oh, go on!” She lowered the hand from her eyes as the clouds shifted above. “You just need to love who are; no matter whether you’re tall, short, slim or wide. It’s all good as long as you’re healthy and happy.”
I smiled again. “Well, I’ve got about two extra inches of healthy and happy around my waist right now, so some cardio is definitely in my very near future.”
She grinned faintly before checking the time on her phone.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said. “But I’ve got another class later. I need to switch the laundry and do a few other things for tomorrow before I leave again.”
“Of course,” I said. “I don’t mean to keep you. I was just trying to see if I could find anyone who’d talked to Rex Greer.”
“Is he the guy looking for his brother?” she asked.
I felt my pulse surge. “Yes,” I said. “Did he come to your door?”
She shook her head. “Like I told you, I wasn’t home, but I ran into my neighbor later. I bet she talked to the guy. She’s out there all the time planting flowers and watering the lawn.”
“Which neighbor?”
The woman’s willowy arm floated up effortlessly and she pointed at the next house to the north. The place had undeniable curb appeal, from the carefully manicured shrubs across the front and baskets of salmon geraniums lining the porch railing to the pair of majestic fir trees that towered over the property from the center of the sloping lawn. A sleek silver BMW convertible with LUVYOGA vanity plates was parked in the driveway.
“Who lives there?” I asked.
“Polly Ladd,” Bitsy answered. “Do you know her?”
Although we’d never met, I knew from the grapevine that Polly worked as a tour guide for wealthy travelers. I also knew that she’d recently purchased fuchsia Wunder Under Pants from Simply Chic as a gift for the woman that was now gazing at me with feigned interest.
“Maybe I should check with her,” I said, glancing across the lawn at Polly’s house.
“I’m also pretty sure that my…um, my other neighbor also saw Polly talking to the guy you’re asking about,” Bitsy said.
“Which neighbor might that be?”
“Mildred Nelson,” she said. “She and her brother live just over there.” She pointed at a house on the opposite side of the street. “The one with the Kokopelli in the front yard.”
“I’ll pay them a visit next,” I said. “Maybe they’ll be able to help me.”
“Oh, they drove up to Longs Peak today.” She flashed a smile. “I know because Mildred asked me to walk their dog while they were away.”
“How sweet,” I said. “It’s nice to know that everyone on your block does such a good job looking out for one another.”
Her gaze tapered. “What is it you’re trying to find out?” she asked, nearly whispering.
“It is a little complicated,” I answered. “The man that I mentioned believes that his brother has gone missing.”
“Oh…” The woman’s expression switched from effervescent and cheerful to melancholy. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”
“Yes, it’s pretty distressing.”
“The missing guy is his brother?” she said. “And you’re trying to help bring them together?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I used to work as a private investigator, so it’s still kind of hard to turn away from these types of circumstances.”
She nodded. “I get it,” she said. “I hope everything works out.”
“Thanks, Bitsy. I really appreciate you taking a moment to talk.”
“No problem at all.” She smiled and reached into the car again, coming out with a brochure that she handed to me. “Here’s a schedule. Maybe you can check out one of my sessions sometime.”
“Okay, thanks! I’ll definitely give it a shot when things calm down a little.”
“Are you into yoga?”
I shrugged. “I tried it a few times when I lived in Chicago,” I said. “I really liked a couple of the poses.”
“Oh, yeah? Which ones?”
“Well, corpse pose is pretty great.”
She laughed. “That’s the one where you’re flat on your back!”
“I know,” I said. “That’s definitely my favorite.”
“Which other ones do you like?”
“Is there one called Sipping a Glass of Merlot?” I joked. “Because if there is, I could do that pose for the whole class!”
CHAPTER 22
The candy apple red front door at Polly Ladd’s house was so glossy that I could see my reflection as I rang the bell.
“You look gorgeous,” I whispered to my blurry twin. “Although it might be time to trim your bangs and—”
“Can I help you?” someone said behind me.
I spun quickly around, hoping that my mumbled praise hadn’t been overheard. A tall, lean woman with platinum blonde hair tucked under a wide-brimmed straw hat was standing nearby. She was wearing khaki shorts, a short-sleeved denim shirt and dark green gloves. A basket filled with gardening tools dangled from one hand. I guessed she was in her early forties, with long, slender legs and porcelain skin. Half of her face was obscured by a pair of Jackie O sunglasses and her lips were tinted with pale peach gloss. Since I’d never met Polly Ladd, I didn’t want to bungle our first exchange if the shapely gardening enthusiast was someone else.
“I’m looking for Polly,” I said.
She offered a slight smile and lazy nod, but didn’t say anything.
“My name is Kate Reed,” I continued. “I wanted to ask you a fe
w questions about a young man who may have stopped by looking for information about a missing relative.”
Her smile became a deep frown, growing from cool and aloof to frozen tundra in the blink of an eye.
“Did you say Kate?” she asked finally.
I nodded. “Kate Reed,” I said with a sunny smile. “From Sky High Pies.”
“The place in that cute Victorian?”
“Yes, that’s right. My grandmother opened it more than forty—”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Miss Reed.” Her interruption was as sharp and precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. “But I’m on a schedule. What did you say this was about?”
“Of course, I’ll be brief,” I promised. “Did a man named Rex Greer come to see you yesterday?”
She waited exactly two seconds before telling me that she didn’t know anyone by that name.
“Oh, that’s odd…” I looked over at Bitsy Curlew’s house. “Someone told me that he’d been by to see you.”
Polly Ladd took off her sunglasses and smiled again, showcasing teeth as white and lustrous as refined pearls.
“Well, as usual, Bitsy was wrong,” she said with another razor-sharp edge to her voice. “I’ve never even heard the name.”
“Okay, so…” I stammered, feeling the heat from her intense gaze. “I guess…she was mistaken.”
Polly sighed and shifted the basket from one hand to the other.
“Do you mind if I ask one more question?” I smiled again. “Did you buy fuchsia leggings from Simply Chic recently?”
Instead of answering, Polly laughed. It was a deep, hoarse sound, like someone who smokes cigars, drinks whiskey and gambles in the backroom of a roadside bar most nights until the wee hours of the morning.
“Are we playing Twenty Questions?” she said. “Or is this some kind of hidden camera show?” She bobbled her head from left to right. “If that’s the case, your crew is doing a very good job of hiding!”
I hadn’t expected the sudden change in her demeanor. While she was icy and unapproachable at first, the unfriendly façade had just crumbled to reveal a luminous smile and sunny giggle.
