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

by Mary Maxwell

  “No doubt.”

  Dina snickered softly. “But the most interesting news about his phone involved local numbers here in Crescent Creek.”

  “That’s fantastic! Who did he call?”

  “Besides Sky High?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Who did Rex call besides us?”

  “There were two other numbers,” she said. “He dialed the first one about twenty-three times over a two-day period.”

  “Did anyone answer?”

  “About half the time,” she said. “None of the calls exceeded more than five or ten minutes.”

  “What about the second number?”

  “Forty-six more calls,” she said. “Also in a two-day period.”

  “Doubled up on that lucky winner,” I said. “Who did the numbers belong to?”

  “They’re both on Edgewood Road,” Dina said. “And they’re both among the last people you’d expect to know someone like Rex Greer.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Bitsy Curlew glared at me through the grimy glass for a few seconds before reluctantly pressing the button to lower her car window. She’d been preparing to back out of the driveway when I came to stop at the curb in front of her house and rushed up beside the burgundy sedan.

  “You again?” she said.

  I offered an apologetic smile, but it didn’t seem to soften her irritation. “Yep. It’s me. I’m glad that I caught you.”

  “Well, I’m not,” she groused. “I’m going to the drug store to get some Advil. I can feel a migraine coming on.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” I said. “I know how dreadful those can be, so I promise not to keep you.”

  “What did you need?” she asked, sliding her hands up and down the steering wheel.

  “I have a few more questions about Rex Greer.”

  Bitsy moaned. “Oh, c’mon! Give it a rest already. I’ve never met the guy. And I know that his father is missing or whatever, but I can’t help.”

  “It’s actually his brother,” I said.

  She kept her eyes on the windshield, taking slow and deliberate breaths as she waited for me to continue.

  “But I think you might know that already,” I said.

  Her jaw clenched. “Who do you think you are?” she demanded. “You don’t know a thing about me, not one cotton-picking thing. And you have no right, absolutely no right or authority, to come over here and start accusing me of stuff.”

  “I didn’t accuse you of anything, Miss Curlew.”

  The muscles in her jaw flexed and her eyes trembled, but she kept quiet.

  “I’m simply trying to help one person find a beloved family member,” I said.

  She jeered. “Beloved? Is that what you called him?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, how the heck would you be in a position to say something like that? Have you ever met the guy’s father?”

  “It’s his brother,” I said again.

  “Whatever,” she scoffed. “The thing is, you don’t know either of these men. You run some pie place and Rex showed up with a wild tale about how he’s all worried about his big brother and can anyone please help him find the lost little waif.”

  I grinned at her choice of words.

  “What’s so funny?” she hissed.

  “Two things,” I said. “First of all, I never mentioned that Theo is Rex’s older brother.”

  Bitsy’s nostrils flared. “You most certainly did,” she said.

  “And the other thing,” I continued, “the word ‘waif’ makes me smile.” I put one hand into my pocket. Her eyes widened until she realized that I was pulling out my phone.

  “I wanted to show you something interesting that I found.”

  “I don’t have time for this. I need to get to the store while I can still see well enough to drive.”

  I nodded and apologized again. Then I asked where she was the evening that Rex Greer was found in a daze on the sidewalk downtown.

  “Why are you asking?”

  “I don’t know if this will make sense to you or not,” I said, “but I feel like I have a stake in Rex finding his brother. It’s true that I don’t know either of them. And I can’t deny that it might seem strange for me to spend so much time driving around town and talking to different folks about the situation. But I used to work as a private investigator, and the desire to solve a mystery can be difficult to shake.”

  “Maybe you should try a little harder,” she said.

  I smiled. “Were you at home that afternoon and evening?”

  She heaved an irritated sigh. “No, I was not!”

  “Do you mind telling me where you were?”

  “You are one pushy pest,” she answered. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Sure, absolutely. I can’t force you to reveal that information, but the police can.”

  She laughed, a harsh and frosty sound that reinforced the sneer on her face.

  “I do have just one more thing to ask you,” I said.

  “No,” she rasped. “My head is throbbing like nobody’s business.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I apologize for keeping you. But I found something that made me wonder if you’ve got a twin out there somewhere or if maybe your story needs a little work.”

  I quickly opened the picture of the employee picnic that I’d downloaded from the Diamond Galleria website. Then I resized the image so she would be able to see that it included the caption with her name as well as the other individuals in the group.

  “There we go,” I said when it was ready. “I wanted to know if you could comment on this photograph.”

  I flipped the phone and held it so she had a good view. Then I shifted it slightly and pointed at the three smiling faces.

  “That looks like you,” I said, gesturing at the slightly heavier Bitsy with long, curly hair. “Along with Rex Greer and his brother.”

  Bitsy’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Well, I cannot believe this!” she finally sputtered. “You think it’s a big deal that I went to a picnic because my mother worked at some stupid jewelry store?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not it,” I explained. “You told me the other day that you’d never met Rex or Theo Greer.”

  Her lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth to stop the tremor.

  “Isn’t that right?” I added. “You claimed that you’d never even heard the names, but there you are standing with them in a picture from six years ago.”

  She sighed again. “You know what?” she said slowly. “You are one sick individual!”

  And then, with the agility and speed of an Indy 500 pro, Bitsy shifted gears, slammed on the gas and screeched down the driveway into the street. Before gunning the engine again and fishtailing away from her house, she gave me a middle finger salute and cold-blooded grin. As she roared off down the street, I felt confident that I was getting nearer to the truth about Theo Greer’s disappearance as well as the fallout from the robbery and murder at the Diamond Galleria.

  CHAPTER 31

  “That was something,” said a voice behind me.

  I whirled around and saw Mildred Nelson strolling along the sidewalk with a small gray dog. Trim and attractive in a violet cardigan, white blouse and skinny jeans, Mildred looked far younger than her age. When we first met at one of Blanche Speltzer’s cocktail parties, I’d learned that Mildred had recently moved to Crescent Creek on her fiftieth birthday to celebrate her early retirement and reconnect with her family’s Rocky Mountain heritage.

  “She was in a hurry,” I said. “Bad headache or something.”

  “Story of that girl’s life,” Mildred said.

  “Oh? Does she get a lot of them?”

  The raven-haired woman shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”

  I smiled. “Part of her being in a hurry might be my fault,” I said. “I was asking her questions about a guy named Rex Greer.”

  Mildred frowned. “A local fellow?”

  “No,” I said. “H
e’s the man that came to your door asking about his brother.”

  She shook her head. “You must be mistaken,” she said. “I’ve been home all day and nobody’s knocked except the mailman.”

  “This was a couple of days ago,” I said. “Rex is twenty-five or thirty, with short hair and a scruffy beard. He’s in town trying to find his older brother.”

  “Well, I wish that I could help you,” Mildred said. “But he never came to the door.” She paused. “And, now that I think of it, why would he have stopped by? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Bitsy seemed pretty certain that he’d stopped at your house.”

  Mildred’s mouth settled into a stern scowl. “Well, as usual, the little nitwit’s wrong.”

  She shot a quick glance at Polly Ladd’s house. “When Bethany’s friend moved to Edgewood Road, it just seemed like everything went straight into the toilet. Polly gets in more arguments with folks than anybody I’ve ever known.”

  When the dog began to whine, Mildred rubbed its head and cooed a few gibberish phrases.

  “Somebody’s a little impatient,” she said. “We should let you get on with your day and we’ll take our stroll.”

  “It’s beautiful weather for it,” I said, looking overhead at the clear sky.

  Mildred’s eyes twinkled. “It sure is! We’re heading over to that Italian place for dinner after a while. My brother’s in the mood for lasagna and a glass of wine.”

  “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  “Always!” Mildred agreed. “That’s why we’re in there about once a week. Just like Sky High Pies, Katie. I mean, once you find good food, why not make it a regular part of your week?”

  “Well, thank you, Mildred. That’s kind of you to say.”

  She nodded. “You’re welcome. It makes Elwood happy and it saves me from doing the dishes every night.”

  “It’s nice that you two get along so well,” I said.

  “I guess so,” Mildred said with a smile that was unsteady and short-lived. “It’s not like I had much of a choice. My brother fell on hard times about eight or nine months ago. I couldn’t very well let him starve on the streets.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Not many people are,” Mildred said quietly as the small dog began to whine. “He’s a proud man.” She glared at the pup. “And he’s half as much trouble as this little runt!”

  We shared a giggle and she started to walk away with the dog. After a few short steps, she stopped and circled back.

  “You know,” she said. “I think you mentioned that the fellow was trying to find his brother. Is that right?”

  “He’s pretty convinced that something happened to him,” I said.

  Since I was still holding my phone, I quickly retrieved the image of Theo Greer and showed it to Mildred.

  “That’s the missing fellow?” she said.

  “His name is Theo,” I answered. “And his brother’s name is Rex.”

  “Well, I’ve never laid eyes on Rex,” she said. “But that man…” She tapped the phone with one finger. “He was over this way a couple of days last week.”

  Since she sounded certain about seeing Theo Greer, I asked Mildred for more details.

  “Both times he was at Polly Ladd’s house,” she said with a derisive smirk. “She knows all kinds of dicey people, so I figured he was just another one of the cast of losers.” She paused, studying my expression. “What is it, Katie? You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

  I shook off the haze of my spinning brain and thanked her for the additional information.

  “You’re quite welcome,” Mildred said. “I didn’t give it much thought at the time. But now that you’re telling me a young man’s gone missing, maybe I saw something that might be helpful to somebody.”

  “Oh, I think you can be certain of that,” I told her. “In fact, I think it’ll be of great interest to more than one somebody.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “This is Deputy Chief Walsh with the Crescent Creek Police Department,” Trent said when I called him after getting back into the car outside of Bitsy Curlew’s house. “How can I assist you?”

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “Which me?”

  “Katie.”

  “Which Katie?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then I said, “Trent. It’s Kate Reed. Why are you being so cagey?”

  “I was born that way,” he said. “It’s part of what makes me a good cop.”

  I had my own opinion about his ability to evade simple questions, but decided we could save that conversation for another day.

  “What do you know about Polly Ladd?” I asked.

  “Nada,” he said. “Who’s Polly Ladd?”

  “She lives across the street from Bitsy Curlew,” I explained. “Over on Edgewood Road.”

  Trent groaned softly. “Is this going somewhere, Katie? Or do you plan to just keep calling out a bunch of names until I say ‘uncle’ and throw in the towel?”

  “It’s related to Rex Greer,” I said. “He took a cab to Edgewood Road the other day a few hours before he was found in front of the post office.”

  “And you think that one of those women zapped him with a Taser?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “But they both acted a little shifty when I talked to them.”

  “Doesn’t everybody act shifty from time to time?” Trent asked.

  “Not me.”

  He laughed. “Uh-huh. You’re an absolute angel, aren’t you? Squeaky clean, unimpeachable and honest twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  I waited until he finished. Then I ignored his remark and asked about Polly Ladd again.

  “Didn’t I already make that obvious, Katie? I don’t know the woman. What are you getting at?”

  “I’m not exactly sure yet,” I said. “But my gut’s telling me that there’s something fishy over here on Edgewood Road.”

  He chuckled. “Your intuition is usually right on the money,” he said. “But we haven’t had any calls or reports of suspicious behavior from that part of town.”

  “I guess no news is good news, huh?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “Hey, before we hang up,” I said. “What was the deal with how you answered the phone?”

  “What was wrong with it?”

  “I’ve never heard you sound so formal before,” I explained. “You’re usually a little more direct and to the point.”

  “You mean gruff and impolite?”

  I laughed. “No, not at all. Just like someone who’s busy or in a hurry.”

  “It’s part of our new departmental program to be more well-mannered on the phone,” Trent explained. “They brought in a consultant from Dallas to listen and provide constructive criticism.”

  “Yeah? How did they rank your performance?”

  “They told me that I was gruff and impolite,” he growled. “Like people give a lump about somebody being all sweet and courteous when you’re dealing with matters of life and death. We need to get to it, Katie. Know what I mean? By the time you’re all unicorns and rainbows and sugary sweet, somebody could be stretched out in the middle of the street with a life-threatening injury or something.”

  “Kind of like Rex Greer?”

  He grunted.

  “I heard that several cars went by,” I said. “They ignored Rex when he was propped up in front of the post office bleeding from his wounds.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Trent said. “But to people driving along, the guy probably looked like a vagrant or something.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, heck. I don’t know, Katie. I’m kind of cranky from hunger. This new diet’s going to kill me.”

  “I didn’t think you were starting for another couple of weeks.”

  “My doctor busted me in the drive thru at McDonald’s,” he muttered. “Third time in as many days.”

&
nbsp; “What’s he doing there so often?” I asked. “Isn’t that like enemy territory to him?”

  “He goes to that health food place across the street,” Trent answered. “It’s just my bad luck that he was shopping for nuts and seeds or whatever every time I was trying to enjoy one last McMuffin.”

  “Keep it up, big guy. You’ll feel better and be less crabby.”

  He groused again. “No kidding,” he said. “It’s hard to be crabby when you’ve passed out from hunger.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Zack and I were standing at the end of the MiniMart checkout line that night at six-thirty buying the things that I’d forgotten during my Food Town stop the previous day. There were a half dozen people ahead of us, and the crowd hadn’t moved for ten minutes because Libby Durwood and her arch rival were in a heated battle about the store’s policy regarding discounted boxes of pudding mix.

  “It says three to a customer,” Fern Rivera said calmly. “You’ve got twenty-three in your basket, Libby.”

  The two middle-aged fusspots had been adversaries since Fern’s recipe for caramel shortbread cookies took top honors a few years earlier at the Crescent Creek Food & Wine Festival. Although Libby had filed a formal complaint with the judges, the request was denied due to a confidential note the festival organizers had received along with a grainy black-and-white photograph of Libby buying chocolate-dipped pizzelle—the traditional Italian waffle cookies that she presented to the judges as her own—from an Italian bakery in Denver the afternoon before the contest.

  “I’m so happy that you can count,” Libby hissed. “But you know what they say, dear heart! The customer is always right!”

  Zack groaned. “I’m going to lose my mind,” he whispered. “Can we please just order a pizza? I still have to finish something at the office before I’m done for the day.”

  He’d already suggested putting the bacon and mayonnaise that I was holding back on the shelves and ordering a delivery from Pepper & Roni’s. But I had my heart set on BLTs and tomato soup for dinner.

  “Do you want to take my car?” I suggested. “I can walk home from here.”