by Mary Maxwell
Dina nodded. “That’s correct,” she said. “We confirmed your alibi with multiple witnesses from that event, Mr. Craig.” She turned and smiled at Thomas Green. “Although we also know that you left the meeting for a little over an hour to run an errand for Mr. Craig.”
Green’s eyes narrowed. “So? It’s a free country.”
Dina smiled.
“Besides,” he added, “what’s that got to do with someone’s lunch habits or fingerprints?”
“Well, the prints on the container didn’t belong to Mr. Craig,” Dina said. “But I believe you left the meeting that day to somehow assist the person responsible for Lacy’s murder.”
Thomas Green muttered under his breath. When Dina asked him to speak up, he glared at her and said, “Is this even legal? Having us come here under…” He looked at me, scowled angrily and then turned away. “Kate Reed lied, detective. She plain lied about why we were invited this evening. When she called earlier, she said a few people were getting together tonight to honor Lacy’s memory. I thought it was the right thing to do, since I worked with her for so long. But now…” His face had turned bright red and a vein in his neck was pulsing violently. “…now, besides wasting our time, you’re not talking about Lacy at all. You’re going on about fingerprints and plastic boxes and…”
Everyone waited for him to finish, but he simply shook his head and looked down at the table.
“Thank you, Mr. Green,” Dina said. “I can appreciate your frustration, but I can also assure you that we are absolutely talking about Lacy Orvane.” She paused for emphasis. “Although, unfortunately, my primary concern right now is talking about her death… as well as the identity of the persons responsible for her murder.”
Daphne’s head jerked toward Dina. “Did you say persons? Like more than one?”
Dina nodded. “Yes, Miss Wright. We suspect that more than one person was responsible for what happened.”
“Well, I didn’t do anything wrong!” Daphne blurted. “It wasn’t my fault! The guy that called and offered me money…well, he tricked me into leaving the delivery door unlocked! I swear he made me think it had something to do with Portia’s birthday!”
“What did you say?” Nathaniel Craig asked in a low voice. “If you left the door open, then you gave the killer a way to sneak in and—”
“Thank you, Mr. Craig,” Dina interrupted. “But I’d rather not get into that just yet. Instead, I’d like to ask how many of you were aware that Lacy planned to leave Crescent Creek?”
I glanced around the table. Nathaniel Craig stared at me defiantly. Thomas Green shook his head. Daphne frowned, glancing away as soon as our eyes met.
“To go where?” Pinky said as I turned to gauge her reaction to the news.
“She’d accepted a new job in Omaha,” I said. “It would’ve been a very nice move for her, too. More money, more responsibility and, I suspect, a whole let less disloyalty from people who pretended to be her friends.”
Daphne began to sniffle. Thomas Green reached over and moved the napkin dispenser closer so she could take a few and dab at her eyes.
“She never told me,” Nathaniel Craig said in his most authoritative tone. “And I am her…well, I was her employer.”
“More like her manager,” I said. “If I’m not mistaken, her actual employer was Crescent Creek Bank, Mr. Craig.”
He swallowed hard, tightening the icy stare. “You’re splitting hairs, Miss Reed.”
“I don’t believe that I am. But…that’s a discussion for another day.”
“Good!” Pinky said sharply. “Because I’m ready to leave this dump and—”
I lifted my arm to keep her from jabbing me in the side. “And my source also told me,” I continued, “that Lacy had discovered the man she was having an affair with also had an on-again, off-again dalliance with another woman in town. A much older woman. A woman with, and I quote, ‘bags under her eyes as big as steamer trunks and a rear end that could give a bowl of Jell-O a run for its money.’”
Daphne’s frown quivered briefly before a frail smile appeared. “Who said that?” she asked. “Lacy?”
“Lacy told someone else,” I said. “And that person told me.”
Pinky’s eyes blazed with disdain. “Hearsay! Nonsense! Malarkey!”
Nathaniel Craig shifted uneasily on the seat across from her. He gave Pinky a quick glance before turning to me. “Who told you that?”
“I’d rather not say,” I answered.
He glared at Dina. “Was it you, Detective Kincaid?”
“No, it wasn’t. But it is important to note that Lacy’s married gentleman friend described the other woman, the older woman, as, and I quote, ‘petty, small-minded and prone to bouts of rage that—’”
Pinky’s hand slammed onto the table with such force that the salt and pepper shakers went flying. “How dare you!” she seethed at Nathaniel Craig. “How dare you tell that sleazy tramp that I was small-minded!”
The outburst left everyone in the booth silent, but it seemed to fuel Pinky’s rage.
“And what’s wrong with my badonkadonk, Nathaniel?” Her voice had started to tremble from the emotion. “It’s not like Jell-O! It’s nothing like Jell-O! You didn’t seem to complain about it when we were sleeping together!”
Daphne gasped. “Oh, that’s—”
“Not one word, missy!” Pinky snapped. “You’ve been nothing more than a thorn in my side since the day we met at the theater! But your gullibility and innocence proved essential when Thomas called and offered you money to leave the door open!”
“That’s a lie!” Green said. “She’s lying, Detective Kincaid!”
Dina started to say something, but Nathaniel Craig got there first.
“How could you conspire with Pinky to hurt Lacy?” the banker said, his eyes fixed on his underling. “Why on earth would you do something so…”
“So impulsive?” Pinky said.
Nathaniel Craig stared at her silently.
“Because he wanted your job, you little twit! And it was all my idea. I was beyond livid when you broke things off with me the last time and took up with Lacy Orvane! I mean, my word, Nathaniel! Talk about Jell-O! That woman’s thighs were half cellulite and half lard! No wonder she was so jittery all the time. And, tell you the truth, she was just using you to get back at her boyfriend. Didn’t you know that?”
Craig shook his head, still mute, still stunned.
“Yes, yes,” Pinky went on. “Poor, pitiful Ron. Less ambition than a wet noodle. And Lacy thought maybe by carrying on with you that he’d get with the program. But the doofus just kept dragging around like a zombie. It took him months to even suspect that you and she were shacking up at that notorious no-tell motel down in Frisco.”
When she finally stopped to breathe, I asked Dina if she wanted to continue sharing a few more details with our guests. But before she could even answer, Pinky was locked and loaded with another barrage.
“Our plan would’ve been perfect if some scrawny twerp…” She jeered at Thomas Green again. “…if he hadn’t left the bag with the syringes in the alley! I mean, how stupid can one person be? And you asked someone at the Horsetooth Reservoir where to find water hemlock! What on earth were you thinking, Thomas?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Green mumbled. “You told me to go get it. And I forgot where you said to look.”
“Because I had a baby shower to attend!” Pinky said. “If Sandy’s mother-in-law could’ve picked another day, I would’ve driven up there myself! I swear, Thomas. Between you and Daphne over there, my life has been a living hell. Surrounded by bumbling idiots! Having to explain simple things four or five times! I mean, seriously!”
Thomas Green gulped and swallowed. “I d-d-didn’t know what you planned to do with the poison, Pinky. I thought you were just going to scare Lacy so she’d stop seeing Mr. Craig. You told me that the plan was to break them up so you and he could start carrying on again behind his wife’s back.”
Nathaniel Craig opened his mouth, but Pinky stopped him with another volley. “Don’t even think about denying it,” she shrieked. “And then…” Her gaze jumped from Nathaniel Craig to Thomas Green. “…what about you?” She leveled one finger at him like a dagger; the glossy crimson polish glistened in the lights above the booth. “Why didn’t you tell me she was leaving town? If I’d known that, the poor girl would still be alive.”
Green squared his shoulders. “I didn’t know,” he said anxiously. “But she’s dead because of you, Pinky. I told you to go easy with that stuff. Just a drop or two, that’s what I said.”
“Don’t even think about telling me this is my fault!” she seethed. “When I first discussed the idea, you were thrilled with the opportunity to frame your boss and get his job as bank president.”
Thomas Green’s face, normally white as bleached bone, was now bright red and dappled with beads of perspiration.
“That’s a lie!” he screamed. “You’ve all got to believe me! Pinky’s responsible for this. I mean, c’mon! Detective Kincaid!” He glared at Dina through crazed eyes. “Those are Pinky’s fingerprints on the plastic container from the deli! Aren’t they? Aren’t they?”
Dina held his gaze, but didn’t respond.
“Did this all start because you saw her picture on my desk, Kate?” Green sneered at me angrily. “Is that how you figured it out?”
I shook my head. “That was curious to see,” I told him calmly. “But there were other factors that—”
“I know what you’re talking about!” Green continued, sounding even more irrational. “The fingerprints, right? Well, I told Pinky to wear plastic gloves! But she refused! She said they might mess up her manicure and nobody would ever find the evidence!”
Pinky pounded the table again. “And they wouldn’t have found it,” she screeched, “if you’d been smart enough to throw it in the incinerator at your buddy’s auto body shop like I told you to!”
I felt Dina’s hand on my arm. “This isn’t what I expected,” she whispered.
I answered with a silent nod.
“Okay, that’s enough, Pinky,” Dina said gravely. “Before we take you and Mr. Green to the station, there a couple of questions that I hope you can clear up for us.”
Pinky sneered. “Mr. Green and I? What about Daphne? She played a part in the whole thing, too?”
Dina glanced across at Portia’s assistant. “Miss Wright? I heard about the phone call you received.”
Daphne’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know what they were planning to do, detective.”
“She’s still an accomplice,” Pinky said. “She made it possible for the killer to sneak into the furniture store, go downstairs and put poison in—”
“You did all of that!” Thomas Green yelled. “You’re the killer, Pinky! And if you think that I’m going to—”
He stopped in midstream as three clowns appeared beside the booth.
“What’s all the racket?” asked the joker in the frizzy red wig.
Thomas Green’s mouth gaped open and his eyes vaulted from the costumed posse to Dina and then back to the clowns.
“I’m Deputy Chief Walsh,” the red-headed clown said, sweeping the disheveled tangle of crimson hair away to reveal Trent’s ruffled dark hair. “And these clowns—” He nodded at Denny Santiago and Hank Russell as they removed the fright wigs they’d been wearing for the last hour. “—they’re going to escort the five of you down to the station so we can have a little chitchat about things.”
Pinky pounded on the table again. “You can’t prove a thing!” she shrieked, managing to sound simultaneously confident and bewildered. “Whatever evidence you think you have is circumnavigational!”
Dina looked at me. I nodded, signaling that I’d take it.
“Do you mean circumstantial?” I asked.
Pinky sneered. “See? You’re trying to intimidate me so I incriminate myself.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I said as Denny and Hank motioned for everyone to get out of the booth. “Detective Kincaid and her team have quite a large amount of circumnavigational evidence. There’ll be no need for intimidation of any kind.”
CHAPTER 44
“Well, that was more drama than I expected,” Dina said. “I particularly like the way Pinky threw everybody under the bus.”
It was an hour after Pinky and Thomas Green had been driven away in the back of separate patrol cars while Portia Pearson, Daphne Wright and Nathaniel Craig rode to the police station in a third cruiser. As Denny Santiago helped Pinky into the back of his car, she’d scowled at me and hissed a scorching commentary about my weight, my hair and the shoes on my feet. “But you’re not a total horror show,” she’d hissed in conclusion. “At least you can make a decent cherry pie!”
Trent came out of The Wagon Wheel with his clown wig in one hand and a corn dog in the other.
“Police work makes me hungry,” he said when both Dina and I stared at the cornmeal-encased sausage on a stick. “Is that so wrong?”
I rolled my eyes. “Everything makes you hungry, Deputy Chief Walsh. It’s a good thing you’re working with that new personal trainer.”
He smirked in disbelief. “How’d you know about me and Tank? I told him to keep things quiet.”
Dina snickered and headed for her car. “I’ll let you two hash that one out. I’m going back to the station and continue my conversation with Tweedledum and Tweedledumber.”
Trent promised to join her soon. “I’ll handle Daphne, Portia and Nathaniel Craig,” he offered. “While you grill the mastermind and her goon.”
“Just don’t come back with any fried food,” said the intrepid detective. “The exhaust fans are down for maintenance tonight, so the aroma could be potentially lethal.”
After we watched her drive away, Hank muttered something that sounded like a compliment.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What was that?”
He finished chewing the last bite of his treat. Then he said, “I wanted to thank you for lending a hand again, Katie.”
“My pleasure, Deputy Corn Dog. I’m glad to be of service.”
He sneered. “I was being serious.”
“Me, too,” I said. “I know you guys are more than capable, but I enjoy dipping back into the PI business every now and then.”
“Just don’t let it become a habit. People around town have already started talking.”
“About me?”
“Yeah,” Trent said. “And about whether the city’s paying you to consult on official police business.”
I shook my head and waited. I could tell from the way his mouth was quivering that there was more to come.
“But don’t worry, Katie. I always tell them that you’re paying me for the pleasure of my company.”
I didn’t react to the quip. Instead, I raised one hand, gave him a wave and turned toward my car.
“Hey, hold on there a second!” he said, sounding simultaneously shocked and hurt. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“About what?”
“That was funny, Katie.”
My blank expression didn’t waver. “Well, you’re the clown here, so I guess you’d know.”
Trent lifted the bright red wig. “I still don’t think the costumes were necessary.”
“Sure they were. If Pinky or Thomas Green saw you in the next booth, there’s a chance they would’ve scooted right back out the door.”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I suppose. After all, you never can tell what guilty people will do.”
“True enough. Now it’s just a matter of making their confessions official.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but…I mean, c’mon. We read ‘em their rights, they knew everything they said could be used in court.”
“And still, on they went.” I smiled. “Singing like a couple of songbirds.”
“You know something, Katie? The longer I stay in this business, the less surpris
ed I am when guilty people explain themselves. I mean, shoot! Pinky actually believed that she could frighten Lacy into ending the affair with Mr. Moneybags!”
“There’s no logic or reason involved,” I offered. “Just pure greed and arrogance.”
“And that Green guy? What a tool.”
“Is that an official verdict?”
Trent scoffed. “Might as well be. The little guy thought he’d implicate his boss for giving Lacy poison based on a plastic box from Drake’s Deli. But he forgot to wipe off Pinky’s prints before he left it in the alley.”
I nodded. “Again, no logic or reason.”
“Just pure toolness.”
“Toolness?”
His forehead creased. “What? Isn’t that a word or something?”
“Or something,” I said. “But I know what you meant. I also know why some people in town use the Danny Downer nickname for Thomas Green.”
The wrinkles above Trent’s eyes tightened. “What?”
“Danny Downer,” I said again. “Somebody gave Green that nickname because he’s so pessimistic.”
“Well, let’s hope his cellmate doesn’t find out. It could make the schmuck’s sentence seem that much longer after he’s convicted and thrown behind bars.”
CHAPTER 45
I was leaning back in my chair, feet up on the desk and eyes closed, when Harper came through the door of the Sky High office the following afternoon.
“Don’t you look comfortable?”
“I just finished paying the bills.” I smiled and patted the tower of invoices beside the checkbook. “I think I’ve earned a five-minute breather.”
“Are you near the end of the siesta?”
I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got another ninety seconds. Why?”
“That Hollywood kid is in the dining room,” she said. “Wearing a pair of two-thousand dollar boots and a faux fur bomber jacket that I saw in Vogue last month.”
