by Mary Maxwell
“Mr. Figg!” I pulled out the other chair and sat across from him. “How are you this morning?”
“Good, Katie! How about you?”
I nodded and sipped my coffee. “Can’t complain.”
Homer made a face. “Doesn’t help if we do, but that never stops me.”
His laughter was infectious, so I joined in and we enjoyed the moment. Then he pushed his cinnamon roll aside, brushed a few loose crumbs into his hand and sprinkled them onto the plate.
“I have something for you.” He glanced around at the other diners; an assortment of local regulars along with a handful of unfamiliar faces. When he was confident that no one was trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, Homer reached into his pocket, came out with a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table. “It’s the address for the place where Roger Kovac’s nephew is living,” he said quietly. “A rental house on the outskirts of Fairplay. I also got the name and location of the bagel shop where he’s been working lately.”
I put the note in the front pocket of my apron. Then I thanked Homer and asked how he happened to be privy to the information. He looked around again, scooted his chair closer to the table and told me that he couldn’t reveal the source.
“My brain’s like a steel trap,” he said, touching the side of his head. “All the valuable stuff like the names of my sources and where I hide the hooch is kept safe under lock and key.”
I smiled and offered to refill his coffee cup.
“Thanks, but no,” he said, covering the top of the empty mug with one hand. “I’m hiking with Bo Kennedy and Boris Hertel in a bit. Too much caffeine makes me jittery on the trail, so I never have more than one cup before we hit the road.”
“Sounds reasonable,” I said. “How about a few scones for the hike? We have a new white chocolate-toasted almond that you might like.”
He grinned playfully. “Now that,” he said, “is an offer I cannot refuse.”
“Okay then.” I got up from my chair and pushed it under the table. “If you sit tight, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
“That’s a deal, Katie,” Homer said. “And if you use the information that I just gave you, please promise me one thing.”
I smiled, waiting for the request.
“Be careful,” he said. “Whatever the Kovacs are up to, it’s bound to be something shady.”
CHAPTER 29
The Powderhorn Bagel Company was wedged between a pet supply store and the offices of a real estate company on US-285 in Fairplay. When I parked at the end of the modest strip mall and climbed out of the car, my nose instantly detected the delightful aroma wafting across the road from Mason’s High Country BBQ.
Talk about perfect, I thought. Bagels and cream cheese on one side of the road and burnt ends on the other.
When I pushed open the glass door and entered the narrow shop, I was in a deserted room with an old Loretta Lynn song coming from speakers in the ceiling. The display case, filled with neatly stacked bagels and cookies, sat between an ancient cash register and a cooler loaded with cans and bottles.
“Be right out,” a voice called from the back. “I’m grabbing some—”
The swinging door pushed into the room and the fresh-faced guy that I’d seen in Café Fleur a few nights before came into view.
“—cream cheese for the…” He blinked. “…for the cooler,” he said, frowning slightly. “Sorry about that, ma’am. I was expecting my girlfriend.”
I smiled. “I can only imagine your disappointment,” I said, walking toward the counter.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a bemused grin. “What for?” he asked. “I mean, what do you mean ‘disappointment.’”
I shrugged and asked if he was Rance Kovac.
“Last time I checked,” he joked. “What can I help you with?”
“My name is Kate Reed,” I told him. “I’m from up in Crescent Creek, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your uncle.”
He scowled. “Crescent Creek?”
I nodded. “About an hour or so north,” I said. “Your dad’s family used to live there.”
“Oh, yeah…” He put the plastic tub of cream cheese on the counter. “I thought it sounded kind of familiar.”
“Have you been there recently?” I asked.
“To Crescent Creek?”
“Like in the past few days?”
He laughed. “I haven’t been anywhere but here and home. I’m filling in for the assistant manager while she’s on maternity leave, so I’m basically pulling a double every day of the week.”
Since I was certain he’d been in Café Fleur a couple of nights earlier, I considered pressing him on the issue. But then I realized it wasn’t worth the fireworks that might ensue.
“That’s a lot of hours,” I said. “How soon will she be back to work?”
He shook his head. “Got me. The baby was way late and they had to do a cesar…” he paused, trying to remember the right word. “They had to do a cesar…” His cheeks went red with embarrassment. “Ah, shucks. I can’t remember the name, but it’s the thing where they—”
“A cesarean?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said. “How are they doing?”
He stared at me blankly.
“The mother and her new baby?” I said to prompt a reply.
“Oh, yeah!” He grinned. “They’re both cool. Her hubby came by yesterday and said things were going okay.”
As his smile sagged, I asked if he’d seen his uncle lately.
“Which one?” he said.
“Roger.”
The instant I said the name, Rance’s eyes tapered and his teeth clenched tightly.
“Why are you asking about him?”
“I’m just following up on a few things I heard recently,” I said, hoping the evil glare in his gaze would start to dissipate soon. “There’s an old story about a bank robbery. Have you heard it by any chance?”
The scowl deepened as he exhaled loudly. I thought he was going to say something, but he maintained a cold silence.
“Anyway, my friend was at a séance the other night,” I continued, deciding to finish the thought. “And someone asked the medium to contact your uncle.”
Rance’s stiff frown softened. “Don’t you have to be dead for that to work?”
“Usually,” I answered.
“Who said my Uncle Roger is six feet under?” he asked.
“That’s just it. There are more rumors than facts going around about him. I’ve heard that he left Colorado and went to Mexico.”
“Doesn’t that sound nice?” Rance said with a grin. “Kick back on the beach with a margarita? Do some surfing? Maybe even rent a boat for some deep sea fishing?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, offering a measured smile. “That all sounds great, especially if it’s the middle of winter and we’re having a blizzard.”
I’d interviewed enough witnesses during my years as a private investigator to realize that Rance wasn’t going to divulge anything helpful about his uncle. And since I wasn’t conducting an official investigation, I decided to leave the subject alone for the time being. Instead of trying to press him with another follow-up question, I walked along the display case, surveying the goodies.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Could I please have two sesame seed, two cinnamon raisin and a half dozen of the chocolate chip cookies?”
“You betcha!” He reached for a box of disposable gloves. “The chocolate chippers are fresh as of an hour ago.”
“Sounds perfect.” I watched as he filled a white paper sack with my order. “And how’s the barbecue across the road?”
“At Mason’s?” He glanced over my shoulder through the window. “It’s the best you’ll find west of Memphis.” His laugh was a little too loud and boisterous. “And if you want to try another good place, you might want to check out Millonzi’s. They’re only open for dinner, but it’s awesome!”<
br />
He worked with the register to total my purchase. After handing him a twenty, I thanked him for the treats and hospitality.
“Don’t you want your change?” he called as I turned for the door.
“Keep it,” I said. “You deserve it for helping out your coworker while she’s home taking care of her newborn.”
When I stepped outside, I smelled the spicy bouquet from the barbecue place again. My stomach reminded me that we could use some nourishment, but I didn’t want to take the time to eat in Fairplay. I wanted to drive north to Crescent Creek, fix a toasted bagel with cream cheese and call Trent to give him the lowdown on my encounters with Riley and Rance Kovac.
CHAPTER 30
Zack was wearing a pair of black mesh basketball shorts, a plain gray T-shirt and black athletic socks when I walked through the door of his apartment that night at seven. His gym bag and shoes were on the floor in the kitchen along with a stack of envelopes, his car keys and a bottle of pinot noir.
“Hey, buster,” I said, kneeling down to pick up the wine and his mail. “Did you have your hands full when you got here?”
He scurried over, gave me a quick kiss and returned to the bubbling pot on the stove.
“I decided to make dinner for you,” he said. “I had shopping bags, my dry cleaning and all the rest in my hands when I came in earlier.”
The air was lightly fragranced with onion and garlic. Based on that aroma and the cans of crushed tomatoes, I suspected we were having pasta with red sauce.
“I’m fixing spaghetti alla puttanesca,” Zack announced with a big smile. “It’s one of my favorites.”
I sidled up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. We stood in the rolling waves of steam from the pot as he stirred and added fresh herbs. After the hectic day at Sky High and the quick trip to Fairplay, I was suddenly exhausted.
“Do you mind if I go sit in the other room?” I asked.
“Not at all, babe. I’ll join you in a second with the wine.”
When he came into the living room about ten minutes later, I had my eyes closed, my feet up on the coffee table and throw pillows under both arms.
“You look pretty comfy,” Zack said.
I opened one eye. “And you look pretty sexy,” I said. “I get weak in the knees when I see a handsome man dressed for a game of hoops.”
He handed me a glass of wine and flopped down beside me.
“We lost,” he grumbled. “It was my weekly game with some of the guys from the newspaper and another bunch from the CCFD.”
“Firefighters know how to get the job done,” I said, touching the side of my glass to Zack’s. “But let’s drink to your valiant effort, okay?”
We enjoyed the wine in silence for a few minutes. I could smell the puttanesca sauce and my stomach was beginning to churn.
“I’m starving,” I moaned. “How much longer?”
“Ten minutes or so,” Zack answered. “I put the pasta in just before I came out.”
“Did you set a timer?”
He gave me a look. “Who’s the chef tonight, babe?”
I smiled and drank more wine.
“Did your trip to…” He stopped and concentrated for a moment. “I’m sorry. I was crazed today. I know you told me, but…where’d you go?”
“Fairplay,” I said. “And don’t worry about not remembering. I think I was basically mumbling when I left that quick message for you this afternoon.”
He smiled. “Yeah, you were. Mumbling and panting. At first, I thought it was a wrong number and some sexy mama was calling to invite me over for—”
“Anyway,” I interrupted. “How was your day?”
“Besides losing the game?” He shrugged. “Not bad. I had a call from an old client. He wants to hire me for a freelance gig next month.”
“That’s great! Congratulations, sweetie!”
“Thanks. The job’s in Lake Tahoe. They’re putting me up in an amazing place on the water.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice to a throaty rumble. “Wanna come along? We could go skinny-dipping in the hot tub and drink Dom Perignon under the stars.”
Although the idea was more than a little enticing, I knew it wasn’t to be; Sky High kept me busy six days of the week and I wasn’t ready yet to leave Julia and Harper on their own. The hesitation had nothing to with them and everything to do with me. I felt like a new mother with her first child and it was too early to leave the baby with someone else no matter how trustworthy.
“Maybe next time,” I said.
Zack gave me a gentle nudge with one elbow. “I figured as much, but wanted to make the offer.”
“I’m sorry. I just think…” I didn’t need to finish the explanation; we’d had the conversation enough times that we both knew the reasons.
“So?” Zack said after another sip of his wine. “What was going on in Fairplay?”
“Just doing a little poking around,” I answered.
“Hmmmm,” he said. “That sounds kind of mysterious.”
I shook my head. “Not really. It’s that case that Trent and Tyler are working on.”
Zack smiled. “I figured as much. You looking into it from an outside angle?”
“Something like that.”
“Was the trip productive?”
“I learned a few things,” I said. “But it wasn’t as interesting as when I went to Como the other day and discovered that having someone greet me at their door while they’re brandishing a rifle isn’t all that much fun.”
Zack frowned. “Katie?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I mean, I was pretty jumpy for a few seconds, but she explained later that there’s some family stuff going on.”
“She?”
“Her name’s Riley Kovac,” I said. “She’s connected to the bank robber that…” I could tell his mind was split between listening to me and thinking about the next steps in his dinner preparations. “You know what, babe? Why don’t we talk about something else?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Zack said. “I just want you to be—”
I covered his mouth with one hand.
“Safe and careful, right?” I asked, lowering my arm.
He nodded.
“I am,” I said. “It did freak me out when Riley Kovac came out of her house with a gun, but the terror was short-lived.”
Zack frowned again. “See, though? When you say things like that I worry about you.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t. I’m thirty years old and the closest I’ve come to a really dangerous situation was ninth grade home ec glass when Mary Louise Steward came after me with her pinking shears because Tommy Glen gave me a card for Valentine’s Day and not her.”
The dark look on Zack’s face was replaced with a warm smile. “Mary Louise Steward, huh?”
I smiled. “She was my archenemy after that little incident.”
“Where is she now?” he asked.
“She and Tommy live in Boulder,” I said. “With their three kids, two dogs and a pet hamster named Big Ruth.”
“What? No white picket fence?”
I shrugged. “Heck if I know! I haven’t talked to either of them since ninth grade. I get all my info from Harper. She and Mary Louise keep in touch on Facebook.”
“Well, it worked out in the end,” Zack said, getting up from the sofa.
“How’s that?”
“Mary Louise ended up with Tommy,” he said. “Harper’s got Bobby. And you have me!”
I followed him into the kitchen, pressed against his back and clamped my arms around his broad chest.
“That’s so true, handsome,” I said. “And I thank my lucky stars every day of the week!”
CHAPTER 31
I was in the dining room at Sky High the next morning at eight o’clock listening to Loretta Woolsey brag about her new grandson—“smartest, most precious, cutest and least gassy baby ever born”—when the bell on the front door chimed. It was Tyler Armstrong. He gave me a nod and waited in the entryw
ay.
“Loretta?” I said as she scrolled through the pictures on her phone. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but—”
“Be patient!” she said, flashing a quick glance up from the blur of images. “I’ve almost got it.”
I smiled at Tyler and held up one finger. He nodded again and walked out onto the front porch.
“See?” Loretta squealed, swiveling the phone in my direction. “Isn’t that the most stunning nursery ever?”
I leaned down and studied the picture. It was a pale pink room with silhouettes of tiaras, flowers and unicorns on the walls.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “It’s very unique. But I thought Debbie and Matt had a boy.”
Loretta jerked the phone away and shoved it back into her purse.
“I didn’t think you were listening, Katie.” She rolled her eyes over toward where Tyler had been standing a moment earlier. “You were making faces at your boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s not—”
“And, by all means, I understand why,” Loretta continued. “He’s a big chunk of handsome alright. But I was showing you that picture because I’m hoping Debbie gets pregnant again real soon. I just have my heart set on a baby girl, so I’m already starting to make subtle little hints.”
“That’s super smart,” I said, putting one hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure your daughter-in-law will appreciate the suggestions.” I noticed that her coffee cup was nearly empty. “Do you want me to top you off? I think Harper just made a fresh pot.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, doll. I’ve already had three cups. Besides, your man’s out there waiting for you.”
When I found Tyler Armstrong a moment later, he was in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, glaring at his phone.
“Bad news?” I asked, taking the next chair.
