Skeletons & Scones (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 8)

by Mary Maxwell

  “Oh, Katie! Don’t make me say it.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me,” I said. “All of this hemming and hawing has my curiosity really piqued.”

  She muttered again.

  “I didn’t quite catch that,” I said. “Please repeat it and speak very slowly and distinctly.”

  After a deep breath, she looked up, fixed her gaze on me and said, “There’s a rumor going around town that we…” She blushed and looked away. “Oh, Katie. Please don’t make me say it.”

  I laughed. “How bad can it be, Jules?”

  She shook her head. I reached out and put both hands on her shoulders.

  “Get a grip,” I told her calmly. “Just tell me what they said.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Okay, okay! There’s a rumor that we use frozen pies.”

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  “Frozen pies!” I heard myself shriek. “They think we use frozen pies!”

  Julia nodded glumly. “I didn’t want to tell you,” she said. “I was afraid you might get—”

  “Frozen pies!”

  “—upset and start yelling and—”

  “Why would we use frozen pies?” I demanded.

  “—maybe even cursing if—”

  A string of colorful words interrupted Julia’s attempt to keep me calm. While she continued pleading for me to relax, I kept up the ruckus. After a few more minutes, I suddenly detected Harper laughing in the distance. I hadn’t heard her come in through the front door while I was reacting to the news that a bunch of 10-year-old rumormongers were trying to trash our reputation.

  “Well, well, well,” Harper said. “I guess you heard the rumors, huh?”

  I spun around.

  “Did you know?” I demanded.

  “Yep,” Harper said. “But I wouldn’t get too worked up if I were you, Katie.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  She laughed. “Because the rumor was started by Wilbur Sprague. His daughters go to school with Julia’s kids.”

  I didn’t know the name, so I asked her to enlighten me about the man.

  “Wilbur Sprague is the guy that just opened Sweetie’s Pies,” she told me.

  “Wait a sec,” I said. “Isn’t that the new business going into Alice and Ted Purdue’s old spot on Chesapeake and Dodge?”

  Harper nodded. “Bingo! Wilbur and his wife moved to town a couple of months ago. From what I heard, they originally planned to open a fried chicken restaurant. But then they heard how successful we are at Sky High and decided we needed a little competition.”

  I gulped in a breath. “Well, competition is one thing,” I hissed. “But spreading lies is a whole different ballgame.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I was standing on the back porch a few minutes before we closed for the day, inhaling the fresh air and watching a pair of birds flutter between trees at the edge of the meadow behind Sky High Pies. It had been a busy lunch and there were a few special orders to finish before I could leave to run errands. I was just about to head back to work when the door whooshed open and Julia waved me inside.

  “She’s here, Katie. I thought you’d probably want to talk in your office.”

  I moved across the sun-bleached wood planks.

  “Who?”

  “Maureen Dixon,” Julia answered. “Remember our conversation this morning?”

  The day had been a whirlwind of breakfast and lunch customers, nonstop telephone orders and an unexpected visit from my sister. Olivia had decided on a spur-of-the-moment road trip up from Denver because things at the law firm where she worked had been especially tense in recent weeks. “I just want to hide in your apartment for a little while,” she’d said, grabbing a half dozen snickerdoodles from the rack where they were cooling in the kitchen. “I won’t mess it up. I won’t go through your closets. And I promise not to critique your housekeeping skills.” I’d swatted her on the backside and sent her upstairs with a promise that we’d talk after I finished work, but she left an hour later with a quick wave and a relaxed smile.

  “Katie?”

  When I realized that Julia was waiting for an answer, I apologized and asked her to clarify what she’d just told me.

  “Which part?” she said.

  “You said something about a conversation?”

  She smiled. “Maureen Dixon. Remember? The clairvoyant who hosted the—”

  “Oh, gosh! I’m sorry, Jules. I’m kind of scatterbrained this afternoon.”

  “Join the club. I didn’t think the lunch rush would ever end.”

  We went back into the kitchen and Julia shuffled over to the pass window at the sound of Harper’s voice.

  “There you are!” she said. “I was starting to think that maybe I should come back and cook Mr. Tate’s omelet myself.”

  “Sorry, sweetie,” Julia said, squinting at the ticket dangling from the order wheel. “Is he having the usual?”

  Harper made a face. “Egg white omelet with raisins, shredded carrots and spinach,” she whispered. “I think he’s turning into a rabbit.”

  While they shared a chuckle over the retiree’s standard late lunch order, I headed for my office. When I came through the door, Maureen Dixon was sitting in one of the guest chairs, nervously twisting a tissue in her hands.

  “You must be Kate,” she said, getting up from her perch. “I’m Maureen.”

  Her hand was cool to the touch and her fingers were pale and slender. Her wrists were adorned with dozens of gold bangles and there was a bluish tattoo on the back of her right hand. Her long hair, a soft chestnut shade laced with hints of gray, was gathered into a loose ponytail and held in place with an ornate silver clip. A pair of glasses with bright red frames gave her the look of a librarian or scholar. Julia had told me that she thought the woman was fifty, although the only thing that suggested she was at the mid-century mark were the wisps of silvery hair.

  “It’s good to meet you,” I said, settling in behind my desk. “I’m sorry that I missed the séance last night.”

  A thin smile appeared below her hazel eyes. “Don’t be. It was much less successful than my usual evenings.”

  “Julia shared a few things,” I said.

  She nodded. “I know this is way outside a normal favor,” she began. “And we don’t even know each other. But I’ve talked to Julia a few times and she told me all about your work in Chicago.”

  “As a PI?”

  “Right. When she first told me, I just thought it was kind of cool. I’ve never met a private detective before. But after last night and this morning…” Her eyes narrowed and she looked away. I watched as her fingers resumed their nervous twitching and she curled the tissue over and over in her hands. “Sorry,” she continued a moment later. “This is really…well, to be honest, I’m pretty scared, Kate. I’ve worked as a clairvoyant for a long time and I’ve never had anyone threaten me after I attempted to make contact with the other side.”

  I’d left the door open when we came into my office, so I decided to close it before we delved deeper into her story. As I walked back to my desk, I noticed that Maureen was dabbing at her eyes with the shredded knot in her hands. I quickly spun around, grabbed the box of tissues from the bookshelf near the door and placed it on the desk.

  “Just in case,” I said.

  She reached over and plucked two from the box. “Thanks,” she said in a hushed murmur. “I’m so embarrassed about this. Part of the reason I moved to Crescent Creek was to get away from my past. And now…” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. “That’s why I wanted to get your advice, Kate. I’m sure Julia told you about the difficulty I was in several years ago.” She paused, waiting for a response; I gave her a nod. “It happened in Denver, when I was working as the office manager for a small heating and cooling company.”

  When she stopped for a breath, the tears resumed, narrow rivulets that meandered down her cheeks. She made no attempt to blot them, so I waited to give her a moment.

 
“Sorry,” she whispered finally. “This is all getting me even more freaked out than I was earlier.”

  “Telling me about the past?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not that really. I mean, I’m just so embarrassed about how stupid and selfish I was back then. I was married, but I was also involved with this guy that worked for the company.” She managed a faint smile, suggesting that she didn’t want to discuss the long ago romance that she now regretted. “He asked me to drive him somewhere and I agreed. I found out later from the police that he was meeting with someone who’d been helping him steal tens of thousands of dollars from the company.”

  “And that’s how you were arrested for embezzlement?”

  Maureen frowned. “See?” she said. “Totally stupid. But I thought he was a good man and my marriage was pretty rocky.”

  “I’ve been there,” I said. “Not the part about the arrest or being married, but…” I suddenly wished that I’d kept my mouth zipped. “Lots of women somehow end up with the wrong guy at some point.”

  “That was me,” she agreed. “And it basically ruined my life for a while there. My dad hired a good attorney and the charges were reduced to a misdemeanor. But I couldn’t get a job for a really long time.”

  “Is that when you started…” I wasn’t sure how to finish the thought: Talking to ghosts? Communing with the dead? So I said, “When you started doing the work that you’re doing now?”

  She laughed softly. “Professionally, yes. But I’ve been visited by spirits since I was a little girl.”

  “Wow. I had no idea that was a real thing.”

  Again, I felt clumsy with the conversation. I’d never talked to a clairvoyant before, so I didn’t want to offend her with any inarticulate blathering.

  “I know it may seem…odd or eerie to some people,” she said, “but it runs in my family. My mother and grandmother were both spiritualists.”

  When my phone rang, I jumped slightly. After quickly turning down the volume, I apologized for the interruption. Then I asked Maureen to tell me more about the séance the night before.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “Well, for starters, how about the guy that got upset after asking you to contact a specific individual?”

  She smiled at the way I’d described the man’s request.

  “He asked me to get in touch with…” She used her fingers to make quotation marks in midair. “…‘a dead bank robber.’ Those were his words, too. ‘A dead bank robber.’”

  “Did he tell you the deceased party’s name?”

  Maureen nodded. “Roger Kovac. I guess he buried the haul from the robbery in the mountains somewhere, but it’s never been found.” She smiled sadly. “Have you heard of him before?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I’ve got a couple of close friends at the Crescent Creek Police Department. I’m sure they can—”

  “Oh, please don’t!” she blurted. “I don’t want them to be involved. I really just wanted your advice about how to get rid of the guy in case he comes back.”

  The pained expression on her face made that abundantly clear. Her mouth was set in a rigid frown, deep wrinkles crisscrossed her forehead and the muscles in her jaw were pulsing in tight contractions.

  “You really should talk to the police,” I said. “Threats like that need to be taken seriously.”

  She bit her lower lip, but didn’t reply. Her gaze drifted from my face to a spot on the top of the desk.

  “Maureen?”

  She swallowed hard and slowly glanced up.

  “I know about the strange package you found last night,” I said. “And it’s understandable that you’d be—”

  “I threw away the skeleton and note,” she confessed in a hushed voice. “I don’t care if anyone thinks that was a bad thing to do. I couldn’t have them in my home for even one second more.”

  Although I understood the motivation to get rid of the disturbing delivery, I also knew that Trent and his team would be disappointed to learn that the evidence had been destroyed. Before I could ask where she’d left the skeleton, Maureen elevated the tension with a new disclosure.

  “Someone called me,” she suddenly announced. “This morning at six. I haven’t told Julia that part because I didn’t want her to worry too much.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “What did they say?”

  “It was a woman. I didn’t recognize the voice, but she knew my name, where I live and the kind of car that I drive.”

  I didn’t react to the unsettling disclosure. Instead, I asked Maureen to tell me what the caller said during the conversation.

  “If I tell the police about any of this,” she gasped in a trembling voice, “I will be killed in a very horrific way.”

  CHAPTER 6

  While the ominous threat echoed in the room, I reached for my phone. After calls to Trent’s office and mobile numbers went unanswered, I tried the police department switchboard. When Maureen heard me ask for Deputy Chief Walsh, she shook her head and started to get up from the chair.

  “Hold on,” I whispered. “I’ll explain in a—”

  “Katie?” Trent growled, coming onto the line. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I said brightly. “I’ll make it quick.”

  “Okay. What’s on your mind?”

  “I have a favor to ask,” I said, doing my best to sound innocuous and unruffled. “Is there any chance you could come over and talk to someone?”

  He didn’t answer, but I could hear him huffing on the other end.

  “Her life was threatened last night and again this morning,” I added. “Nothing’s happened yet, but I thought—”

  “Did she report it?” His voice was still taut, but I had his attention.

  “No, but there’s a reason.”

  He sighed, a slow and even hiss. “I can send Amanda and Denny. They’re getting ready to start their shift.”

  “I think it would be better if you came,” I told him. “I know that you’re busy and all, but she’s pretty freaked out.”

  “Yeah? Pretty freaked out, but not enough to call the police?”

  I took a breath to keep from saying anything that I’d regret later. Then I posed my question again.

  “Right now?” he said. “I’ve got a bunch of case files on my desk, Katie. And there’s a meeting tomorrow that I need to prepare for.”

  “It won’t take long,” I promised. “Do you want us to come to your office?”

  He hesitated for a moment, weighing the options aloud. Then he agreed to stop by if we could limit the meeting to thirty minutes and I would fix him up with some Sky High goodies.

  “Done and done,” I said. “We’ll see you as soon as you can get here.”

  When I finished the call, Maureen was slumped in the chair, grimacing slightly and biting her lower lip.

  “You doing okay?” I asked.

  She glanced up. “I don’t even know. This whole thing is like one big nightmare.”

  “Of course,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Why don’t we talk about something else while we wait?”

  “Like what?” Her eyebrows crumpled as she frowned.

  “How about you?” I suggested. “I’d love to hear how you got involved with séances and tarot cards.”

  She heaved a sigh, crossed her legs and straightened her posture. “It’s like this bakery café,” she said. “It’s a family affair. I inherited the gift from my mother just as she did from my grandmother. When I was really little, I thought the spirits were characters from picture books come to life. The first time I asked my mom about them, she explained that some members of our family had the ability to communicate with the other side. I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about until I was maybe seven or eight. That’s when it all clicked.”

  I listened intently as Maureen shared her story. She told me about her early séance attempts and how she improved with time as her abilities sharpened. Althou
gh she earned a degree in fashion design and ran a boutique selling her own dresses after the embezzlement fiasco, her reputation as a psychic eventually began to overtake the traditional career. She juggled both pursuits for years, but decided to close her shop in Denver to focus on her work as a psychic. A few months later, she packed up everything she owned and moved to Crescent Creek.

  “Why our little town?” I asked when she finished.

  Her face brightened with a wide smile. “Childhood memories,” she said. “My parents took me to Snowmass when I was about ten. I fell in love with skis and snowshoes and s’mores by the fire. I adored my dress shop and creating beautiful designs, but my heart wasn’t in it as much as when I first opened the boutique.”

  “I totally get that,” I said. “I spent a dozen years in Chicago before I came back to Crescent Creek. I loved the big city, but, now that I’m here again, I know it’s where I’m meant to be.”

  She laughed gently. “Small town life is a huge change, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “A huge change, but a welcome one, too.”

  Maureen checked her watch and fidgeted in the chair.

  “He’ll be here soon,” I assured her. “Trent’s a good guy. If you tell him about the threats you received, he’ll be able to assess the situation and recommend the best course of action.”

  She sighed nervously. “I’m sure that’s true,” she said, nearly whispering, “but I’m still afraid he’ll think less of me if he learns about my past.”

  Before I could reassure her yet again, a booming knock echoed through the building from the kitchen door.

  “I bet that’s Trent,” I said, jumping up from the desk chair. “Sit tight, okay? He and I will be right back in a flash.”

  CHAPTER 7

  When Trent came in the backdoor, he was carrying a plastic cup from Java & Juice along with a pink shopping bag from one of my favorite clothing stores in Crescent Creek.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked. “I’ve been out here knocking for the last five minutes.”

  “Julia and Harper are gone for the day.” I gave him a dazzling smile, hoping the joyful attitude would be contagious. “I was in the office talking to Maureen.”