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

by Mary Maxwell

  Zack shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said quietly. “You can drop me at the Gazette office. My car is there anyway, and then I’ll come by as soon as I wrap up the last few things. Besides, if these two are going to end up in a brawl, I want front row seats.”

  I shot him a disapproving look.

  “What?” he said with a grin. “I heard a rumor that Libby and Fern both carry brass knuckles at all times.”

  I swatted his rear. “Stop that!”

  Someone tapped my shoulder a moment or two before I heard their voice.

  “Is that you, Kate?”

  I glanced back and saw Mildred Nelson.

  “Twice in one week,” she said with a warm smile. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  “How are you?” I asked.

  She glowered at Libby. “I’m about ready to violate a few of the Ten Commandments,” she said. “Beginning with ‘Thou Shall Not Rip Libby Durwood’s Greasy Dyed Hair From Her Head.’”

  Zack’s laugh was instantaneous and extremely loud. Libby wobbled around on her heels and glared at the three of us.

  “What are you all staring at?” she said.

  Mildred raised one hand and waved. “Hi, Libby! How are you?”

  The grumpy shopper frowned and went back to arguing with Fern about MiniMart’s policies.

  “Should I find the store manager?” Zack asked. “This could turn into either a hostage situation or a homicide at any second.”

  I gave him a gentle nudge with my arm. “That’s a wonderful idea, handsome. I’ll wait right here in case the United Nations arrives to negotiate a peace settlement.”

  After Zack went in search of the manager, Mildred and I stood and watched the action for a few minutes.

  “I’m glad that I ran into you tonight,” she said eventually. “I was going to call you in the morning.”

  “About what?”

  She glanced around and stepped closer. “Polly Ladd.”

  “What about her?” I said.

  “Remember how you told me that she was out of town?”

  “Right. Because that’s what she told me.”

  “Well, there’s no truth to that whatsoever,” Mildred said with a mischievous smile.

  “Meaning what?”

  Mildred put one hand beside her mouth. “Polly lied about being out of town,” she whispered. “And she also lied about the day when that young man came to the door.”

  “Do you mean that Polly talked to Rex Greer?” I said.

  “You bet,” Mildred answered. “And if she lied about that, what else isn’t she being truthful about?”

  CHAPTER 34

  After dropping Zack at the newspaper offices, I drove over to CCPD Headquarters to see if Trent was still in his office for a quick face-to-face about the Rex Greer case. When I walked through the door, he was leaning back in the chair with his feet up on the desk. A bowl of baby carrots and a carton of onion dip sat beside his stack of case files.

  “This stuff taste like dirt,” he said, dunking a tiny orange nub into the container. “And it smells rank, too.”

  “But it’s healthier,” I said as he chomped contentedly. “Think how many calories you’re saving.”

  He glared briefly and grabbed another carrot.

  “What’s up?” he said after the first bite. “Or did you drop by to check on my dietary habits?”

  I shook my head. “I really think there’s something shifty going on with Bitsy Curlew and Polly Ladd,” I said.

  Trent popped the rest of the carrot into his mouth. He grimaced at the taste of the dip before swallowing and taking a big slurp from a glass of water.

  “The same thing applies to about half the people in town,” he said. “If we were going to start arresting people for being shifty, we’d have to use Mile High Stadium as a holding pen.”

  I reached over and took a carrot. Then I scooped up some of the low-fat dip, took a small bite and felt my mouth convulse.

  “Oh, Trent!” I said after spitting the bite into a napkin. “That stuff is horrible! Where’d you buy it?”

  “Gas station over on Jansen and Hightower.”

  I checked the expiration date on the container.

  “Well, here’s your problem, big guy.” I pointed at the small, faded numbers. “This batch went bad when you were still in middle school.”

  He lurched to one side and spewed a mouthful of carrot into the trash can.

  “What!” His face was twisted and red. “Are you kidding me?”

  I leaned back in the chair. “Maybe just a little,” I said. “It expired four months ago. That might explain the tang and foul odor.”

  He reached into his shirt pocket, dug around for a moment and came out with a crumpled receipt.

  “You mind returning it on your way home?” he said, putting the lid on the container. “See if they’ll give me a full refund?”

  Instead of reaching for the wrinkled slip of paper, I went for another nibble of my carrot.

  “You too busy to do me a solid?” he asked.

  “No, Trent,” I said. “Just let the dip go. It’s not a plot to pilfer a couple bucks from your wallet. I’d guess it was a simple mistake. Someone probably forgot to rotate the stock and that carton accidentally ended up getting lost in the shuffle.”

  He dropped his legs to the floor and sat forward. “Food poisoning, Katie! Ever heard of it? That stuff could kill me.”

  I moved a copy of Sports Illustrated on the desk, revealing a box of M&Ms from the vending machine.

  “What about these guys?” I said. “Any chance they might not be super healthy for you?”

  He grabbed the candy and dropped it into a drawer. Then he asked me to explain my theory about Bitsy Curlew.

  “And Polly Ladd,” I added. “Don’t forget about her.”

  He nodded. “Got it,” he said. “Why do you think they’re being shifty?”

  “I can’t exactly put my finger on it yet,” I said. “But, first of all, there’s the fuchsia Wunder Under Pants.”

  Trent’s head turned slightly to one side and he narrowed his gaze. “What was that?”

  “They’re purple tights,” I said. “Polly Ladd told me that she gave two pairs to Bitsy as a thank you gift.”

  He scowled. “What’s fishy about that? Is it a crime to give somebody purple tights or to wear them?”

  “They were in the background of Theo Greer’s picture.” I paused, but Trent’s expression remained unchanged. “And I talked to a couple of people who remember seeing Theo arguing with a woman wearing fuchsia tights.”

  An eternity passed before he turned in his chair and lifted his legs to the desktop again.

  “Fascinating, Katie. But I’m not smelling anything fishy.”

  I took a moment, drawing in a long, slow breath and pushing a few stray hairs from my eyes.

  “Well, it’s not just the tights,” I said. “Bitsy also lied about knowing Rex and Theo Greer. I found a picture online from a picnic that all three of them attended. And when I talked to Polly the other day, she was acting…well, she was being pretty reticent and cautious.”

  “How so?” asked Trent.

  “It seemed like she wanted to tell me something,” I explained. “But she stopped short.” I paused to think about my conversation with Polly on her front porch. “There was something almost too slick about her, okay? It was like she’d rehearsed all of her answers and had this sort of…well, almost professional skill with appearing casual and conversational although the corners of her eyes kept tightening.”

  Trent selected another carrot from the package. “Maybe she had stuff to do,” he suggested. “And she didn’t want to be rude.”

  I nodded, considering the possibility.

  “Or maybe,” I said, “she knows something about Theo Greer and couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

  “You’re being paranoid,” he said with a ragged grin. “Probably too much coffee and not enough sleep.”

  “That’s
always possible.” I got up from the chair. “But something’s going on over there. I can feel it, like one or both of those women are keeping secrets.”

  “Oh, here we go again,” Trent said with a deep laugh. “Keeping secrets is as prevalent around here as people acting shifty. One out of every four residents tells three lies a day.”

  I smiled at the statistics. “Did you do a survey or something?”

  Trent leaned back his chair. “No, I did not,” he said. “I just lied. But it sounded pretty believable, didn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 35

  I met Zack at the front door to Sky High Pies a half hour after returning home from Trent’s office. His arms were loaded with shopping bags and he was clutching a bottle of wine in each hand.

  “Is everything okay?” I said as he stepped inside. “Your text made me think that there was some kind of emergency.”

  He smiled and asked me to take the bottles. “Everything’s great, babe.” He put the bags on a bench in the entryway and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I just need your help carrying the last thing in from the car.”

  “What last thing?” I asked.

  He chuckled, a mysterious and slightly sinister sound that suggested he was up to something.

  “Come with me,” he said, offering one hand. “If you don’t like it, we’ll have plenty of fireplace kindling for the winter.”

  I felt a lump in my throat. He’d teased earlier in the day about winning a prize in the newspaper raffle, but I hadn’t given it much thought. I figured it might be movie tickets, free ice cream from Scoops of Joy or spa sessions at Crescent Creek Lodge. I didn’t anticipate anything that required two people to carry it into the house.

  “Close your eyes,” Zack said as we approached his car. “It’s in the trunk.”

  I followed orders as he guided me slowly across the parking lot.

  “I won an original work of art, Katie.” I heard his keys jangle as he opened the lock. “It’s signed and everything.”

  After the trunk lid squeaked, Zack told me it was okay to take a peek. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a large wood carving of an elderly man wearing a frizzy red wig and what looked like one of my Aunt Eunice’s old muumuus.

  “What do you think?” He was grinning from ear to ear. “I originally won a pair of knitting needles and four skeins of yarn, but Karen from Human Resources is apparently deathly afraid of clowns.”

  I pointed at the sculpture. “That’s a clown?”

  Zack smiled. “Like the one in It,” he said, pointing at the razor-sharp teeth. “The book by Stephen King.”

  “Well, that’s comforting,” I said. “And knitting needles are probably much more appropriate for Karen from HR.”

  He bobbed his head. “Yeah. I thought so, too.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” I said, folding my arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss. “It’s amazing how kind and thoughtful you can be, handsome.”

  He winked. “It’s mostly because of you,” he said. “Like the line from that Jack Nicholson movie.”

  “‘You can’t handle the truth?’”

  “No, not that one,” he said with a rolling laugh. “The other one: ‘You make me want to be a better man.’”

  “Oh!” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I love that movie!”

  We kissed again.

  “And I love that line, too!” I added. “I fantasized for the longest time that someone would say it to me one day.”

  A few minutes later, after we’d carried the raffle prize onto the front porch, Zack stood back to inspect the sculpture.

  “Hmmm,” he murmured quietly. “It looked a lot better in the newsroom.”

  I smiled, but didn’t say a word.

  “You know what?” he asked a moment later.

  “What’s that, handsome?”

  “I think maybe Karen got the better deal.”

  I grinned again and gave him a pat on the back. “Maybe,” I said. “But she won’t have as much kindling this winter.”

  As we laughed and hugged, Zack told me that he’d thought of an even better place for the scary clown sculpture.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “The back of the coat closet at my place.”

  “Won’t he be lonely?” I joked.

  “Probably, but—”

  My phone chirped in my back pocket.

  “Sorry, babe,” I said, retrieving it and checking the display. “Do you mind if I take this?”

  Zack shrugged. “Knock yourself out, sweetheart. I’ll plop on one of these chairs and relax for a second or two.”

  While he did exactly that, I answered the phone.

  “Sky High Pies,” I said. “This is Kate Reed.”

  Instead of someone’s voice, I heard a squelchy, hacking cough before the caller cleared their throat.

  “Miss Reed,” said a woman with a gravelly voice. “This is Tammy Bancroft from Diamond Galleria in Philadelphia. I’m returning your call about one of our former employees.”

  With the deep voice and hacking cough, she sounded like a lifelong smoker.

  “Yes!” I said. “Thank you for calling. I didn’t know if I’d hear from you or not.”

  She coughed into the phone again, a rumbling blast that turned my stomach. The noise conjured images of nicotine stains on her fingers, yellowish-brown teeth in her mouth and a horror-struck cardiologist on speed dial.

  “Well, I don’t know if I can help you,” she said after finally clearing her throat. “But I pride myself on impeccable customer service. If somebody calls Tammy Bancroft, then I call them back.”

  “That’s a very admirable trait, Ms. Bancroft.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “As is a wise use of one’s time. Now, what can I help you with?”

  “I was calling about Arlene,” I began. “She worked for you several years ago.”

  When I paused for her reply, I heard the unmistakable sputter of a match igniting. I waited for her to inhale the first puff of her cigarette before I continued.

  “She and I were very, very close when we were younger,” I said, cringing slightly at the fib. “But we lost touch through the years. And today, believe it or not, I had the sudden urge to get in touch with her.”

  “How nice,” the woman said. “But I don’t see why you’re telling me about it.”

  “Well, I’ve lost her address and phone number,” I explained. “I thought maybe, you know, because you pride yourself on impeccable customer service and everything, that you might be kind enough to share it with me.”

  “Arlene no longer works for us,” she said.

  “I know, but do you have her old employee file or something?”

  She exhaled so passionately that I almost thought I smelled smoke.

  “That would be at our off-site storage facility,” she said. “Arlene hasn’t worked for us in several years.”

  “Well…” I sighed to suggest mild disappointment. “What about this? Can you tell me which last name she’s using these days?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “That probably sounded strange, didn’t it? But the last time we talked, Arlene was pretty serious about this one boy.”

  “Earl?”

  “Yes, that sounds right. I thought that maybe if they got married back then, she might’ve taken his last name.”

  The woman snickered. “Considering that Earl ended up wearing a prison jumpsuit instead of a tuxedo, there was no wedding. Far as I know, Arlene still goes by the same last name. The only thing that’s changed about that girl, for better or worse, is her zip code. I heard that she’s somewhere out west these days.”

  I thanked Tammy for the update and asked if she remembered Theo and Rex Greer.

  “I believe that Theo worked for Diamond Galleria as a security guard,” I said. “And his brother attended at least one company picnic.”

  Tammy sighed. “I remember them,” she said sounding less than thrilled to discuss the two brothers. “One’s dum
b as a box of rocks, and the other is a box of rocks. If either of them has one redeeming quality, then I’m the Queen of England.”

  I smiled and pictured a member of the British royal family wearing a tiara, diamond necklace and diamond drop earrings with a lit Marlboro pinched between her lips,

  “Oh, really?” I increased the undercurrent of regret in my voice. “Well, in that case, can I ask one final question?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve me talking to Arlene again,” the woman answered, sounding suddenly irritated.

  “You and Arlene didn’t get along?”

  “I’ve probably said too much already,” she confided. “What else did you want to know?”

  “How does she spell her last name?”

  The woman snorted. “How does she what?”

  “Spell her last name?” I said again. “It’s been so long and she always got really mad because I could never get it right.”

  “I can believe that,” the woman said. “Getting mad was something she did very well.”

  I smiled to myself and waited to see if she would fulfill my request. After enjoying another long, slow moment with her cigarette, she did exactly that. She told me the name, spelled it slowly and then repeated it again.

  “Did you get that?” she asked.

  “I did indeed,” I told her. “And I really appreciate you being so helpful and patient.”

  “You’re welcome,” the woman said. “And, if you do get in touch with Arlene, please tell her that I’m still waiting for her to return that little black dress that she borrowed a week or so before she quit without notice.”

  CHAPTER 36

  I crawled out of bed the next morning, stumbled to the bathroom and flipped on the light. When my eyes finally opened, I glanced in the mirror above the sink and screamed.

  The Bride of Frankenstein was glaring back at me in all her glory: smeared mascara, pasty complexion and a conical heap of tousled hair with a zigzag white streak on one side.

  “What the heck is that?”

  I touched the brittle patch of hair.

  “Oh, no, no, no!” My mind filled with a flashback of the solitary cupcake that I’d taken to bed for a midnight snack. “I fell asleep in the frosting again!”