Sixty Minutes for Murder

by Mary Maxwell

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not that.”

  She laughed. “Okay, so is it about her boyfriend hooking up with the neighbor?”

  My mouth popped open. “Come again?”

  “Haven’t you heard that one yet?” she asked. “Blanche told me yesterday when I ran into her at Food Town that Wendy’s beau is doing the boom-boom with Sue Carswell. The guy’s a horn dog with no moral compass.”

  “Holy smokes…” I tried to process the unexpected news. “I hadn’t heard a peep about—”

  The back door suddenly slammed open and Harper rushed inside. She quickly closed it again before dropping her purse on the counter.

  “Have you guys heard about Wendy Barr?”

  “Is this about Ken boinking Sue?” Julia asked with a wicked cackle. “I was just telling Katie about that breaking news.”

  Harper’s eyes bulged as her head pivoted from Julia to me and back again.

  “Heck, no!” she gushed excitedly. “This isn’t about anything silly like that. Wendy Barr is dead!”

  Now it was Julia’s turn to be speechless, with mouth agape and eyes wide.

  “I had to fill up the car on the way in,” Harper continued. “I saw Amanda Crane and Denny Santiago. They’d just started their patrol shift, and Denny needed to buy gum or something. While he went inside, I stood by the pumps with Amanda. She told me all about it.”

  “What happened?” Julia’s head whipped around in my direction. “Is that what you were starting to tell me?”

  I nodded. “I heard about it from Dina Kincaid last night,” I told her. “I was going to let you guys know this morning.”

  “Amanda told me that it looked like a mugging that was interrupted,” Harper said. “At least, that’s what one of the officers on the scene thought.”

  “Is that what you heard, Katie?” asked Julia.

  “Not in so many words,” I answered. “But a mugging doesn’t sound right. Wendy’s phone, briefcase and purse were with her body when she was found.”

  “Where was she?” Harper said. “I forgot to ask Amanda before Denny came out and they took off.”

  “At home,” I told her. “Wendy was on the ground near the back entrance to her duplex.”

  “What a minute,” Julia said. “Wasn’t there a robbery in that neighborhood recently? Maybe Wendy’s death is connected to that crime.”

  I shook my head. “That was last month. The police arrested a suspect not long after that.”

  “What about her boyfriend?” asked Harper. “I heard that they’re not getting along very well these days.”

  “I’ve heard the same rumors,” Julia said. “But Ken’s never seemed like the violent type.”

  “That’s just the thing,” Harper replied. “Sometimes the least likely person turns out to be the guilty party.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Dina Kincaid was sitting behind her desk at the Crescent Creek PD Headquarters when I stepped through her office door that afternoon at five.

  “Bring any cookies?” she asked, dropping a blue folder beside her laptop. “Or maybe a bottle of Advil?”

  “I do not come bearing gifts,” I said sitting in one of the chairs facing her. “But I can run to the drug store if you’d like.”

  She got up, walked over to a filing cabinet and opened the bottom drawer.

  “Want one?” She was holding a half-filled bag of fun size Butterfinger bars. “I know they’re not as scrumptious as homemade goodies, but my sweet tooth has been very demanding lately. I keep a stash for emergencies like this.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said. “I split a piece of chocolate fudge cake with Julia as we cleaned the kitchen earlier.”

  She sat down and hummed with delight as she bit into one of the tiny treats.

  “How’s the investigation going?” I asked.

  “Making progress,” Dina answered. “Sue Carswell came in last night. We talked for a couple of hours, so I have a better idea of Wendy’s whereabouts before she was killed.”

  “What’s the story?”

  Dina licked the tips of her fingers. Then she got up again, walked the bag of candy back to the filing cabinet and dropped it in the drawer. She closed it with one foot before returning to her chair.

  “Okay, so here’s what I know,” she said. “Wendy and Sue were going out for dinner on Sunday evening. They agreed to meet at the restaurant an hour after finalizing their plans.”

  I nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “When they talked a few minutes before six,” Dina continued, “Wendy was in her office taking care of a few things before a sales appointment that was scheduled for the following morning. After Sue waited at the restaurant for a while, she tried to call Wendy several times. When that didn’t prove successful, she drove home around seven to see if she’d misunderstood the plan.” Dina stopped and smiled. “You know that Sue rents the other half of Wendy’s duplex, right?”

  I nodded. “That’s a good solution for both,” I said. “At some point a few weeks ago, Sue was still trying to decide whether to stay here or move back to Boulder. I don’t think that she really wanted to leave town, but she’d already given up her apartment in the complex on Broadmoor.”

  Dina shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Sue didn’t mention anything about possibly leaving town.”

  “Well, it probably doesn’t matter anyway,” I said. “I mean, in terms of what happened to Wendy.”

  “Hard to say at this point.” Dina was eyeing the filing cabinet again. “I should have you take those Butterfingers with you when you leave, Katie. Otherwise, I’m going to finish that whole bag tonight.”

  I laughed. “Focus, Detective Kincaid. Tell your sweet tooth to chill.”

  “Is that even possible?” she asked. “It’s so bizarre how often I think about candy these days. I guess it’s all the years on the job. I promise myself that I’m going to eat healthy meals, but work inevitably makes that impossible.” She got up, went to the filing cabinet and pulled open the drawer. “Maybe just one more?”

  “Knock yourself out,” I said.

  “Oh, brother!” She closed the drawer with her foot again. “Where was I?”

  I waited until she was seated to answer her question.

  “Sue and Wendy had plans for dinner,” I began, “but Wendy wasn’t at the restaurant when Sue got there. She tried her cell a few times before driving home and discovered Wendy by the back steps of her duplex. Is that about right?”

  “That’s exactly the story that we got from Sue,” Dina said. “She was pretty upset, as you can imagine, but she was very specific about their plans, what time they spoke and where they were going to meet.”

  “And it was just going to be the two of them?” I asked.

  Dina frowned. “Sorry?”

  “For dinner,” I said. “Just Wendy and Sue.”

  She nodded. “I would suspect that’s the case. I know that you told me about seeing Sue and a man in her car on Sunday evening, but I haven’t had a chance to ask her about that. She agreed to come back today, but canceled due to a panic attack.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I said. “She’s been struggling with those a lot in the past few months.”

  “Did she tell you that?” Dina smiled. “Is it now Dr. Katie Reed, baker, business maven and psychotherapist to the stars?”

  I made a face. “Hardly. She told Blanche, and—”

  “And Blanche told the world,” Dina added before I could finish my thought.

  I smirked again. “Where did they plan to eat?” I asked.

  “The Mexican place by the post office,” Dina answered. “I guess Sue’s been flirting with the manager there for the past few weeks. She wanted another chance to, and I quote, ‘ogle his beefy biceps’ again.”

  I smiled. “Did Sue say that?”

  “Word for word,” Dina replied. “I guess Sue’s been teasing Wendy about how often Ken goes to the gym.”

  “Ken Higby?”

  “Hadn’t
you heard that he and Wendy are an item?” Dina asked.

  “I heard about it less than five minutes after it started,” I teased. “Once again, Blanche Speltzer. Although she said it wouldn’t be anything long-term.”

  Dina rolled her eyes. “Who knows how long it’ll last. He’s a handsome guy, but his concept of honesty and integrity is on the sketchy side.” She drummed her fingertips on the desk. “And, to tell you the truth, I’d rather not deal with two people like that at the same time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dina raised one eyebrow. “About what?”

  “You don’t believe Sue,” I said.

  “Is that a question?” Dina asked. “Or a conclusion?”

  I smiled. “Maybe a little of both. There was a change in your tone just then.”

  She shifted in the chair again, reaching for the blue folder that she’d been reading when I arrived.

  “It’s here,” she said, opening the cover and scanning the documents inside. “When I asked Sue to describe her final conversation with Wendy, there was something about her word choice. It was almost like she’d memorized her answer as opposed to giving it to me spontaneously during the interview.”

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  Dina looked up and smiled. “Probably because much of what Sue told me, including a handful of phrases and descriptions, was nearly identical to excerpts from the transcript of Tyler Armstrong’s interview with Ken Higby.”

  “How closely did they match?” I asked.

  “They both used some of the same specific words and sentences,” Dina said. “I’ve been studying the transcripts for hours.”

  I waited while she went back to the notes.

  “Can I get a peek?” I asked.

  She closed the folder and dropped it on the desk.

  “Maybe later,” she said. “For now, I’d really like to see how whatever you turn up compares with what they told us on Sunday night.”

  “Whatever I turn up?”

  Dina nodded. “I’d like you to do your thing, Katie,” she said. “Snoop around a little, ask a few questions, keep your eyes and ears open. See if you can uncover anything about Sue Carswell, Ken Higby and anyone else that either worked or socialized with Wendy. You know the town, and you know our victim and two of the witnesses.”

  “I was already ahead of you there,” I said.

  She offered a warm smile. “I know, but I never like to assume anything about anyone.”

  “Especially when it involves murder,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Dina agreed as her phone rang. “Especially then.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Twenty minutes later, after she’d stepped into the hallway to take an urgent call, Dina returned to find me nibbling one of the Butterfinger candy bars.

  “See?” she said with a smile. “Aren’t those little devils good?”

  I smiled. “They’ll do in a pinch.”

  She went behind the desk and settled into the chair. “How was the charity event on Saturday night?” she asked, reaching for a notepad. “Someone told me that Warren Larimer was griping about Wendy.”

  “It was a huge success for the animal shelter,” I told her. “They received one-hundred and ten RSVPs, and around ninety-five attended. The silent auction was one of the best that I’ve seen here in town.”

  She made a quick note. “And Warren?”

  “I didn’t actually hear what he said,” I replied. “But Ivy Minkler did, and she told us that Warren claimed one of Wendy’s employees stole money from his desk when they were cleaning his office.”

  “Do you know how much?”

  “Six hundred,” I said. “But Wendy denied it implicitly. Plus, Warren was especially thirsty that night.” I smiled and winked. “If you get what I’m saying.”

  “I get it,” Dina said. “A few of the officers refer to him as Mr. DUI. You’d think that having his license suspended would keep him from getting behind the wheel drunk a few months after it was reinstated, but that’s not Warren’s idea of following the rules.”

  “Good thing he has money,” I said. “And that he lives close to work.”

  “Right,” she agreed. “The money pays for the car service when he needs to go beyond the distance his two chubby feet can carry him.”

  I made a face. “Are you fat shaming Warren Larimer?”

  “Do you know a better target?” she joked. “His idea of a balanced diet includes Triple Baconator Combos, deep-fried Snickers bars and peanut butter milkshakes.”

  I laughed as she called out the entries. Then I fluttered my eyelashes and said, “Is that so wrong?”

  Dina laughed. “Enough about Warren’s jiggly bits,” she said. “Do you think the claim could be legit about Wendy’s employee?”

  “Doubtful. Warren did something similar with the company that cleaned his office before Wendy started her business.”

  “That must’ve been years ago,” she said. “Like, maybe five or six?”

  “Sounds about right. I don’t remember who he blamed, but Blanche would know.”

  Dina raised one eyebrow. “She knows it all, doesn’t she? I saw her at Tipton’s the other night. She and Boris were stocking up on vodka and salty snacks.”

  “Probably for her bridge club,” I guessed, “or the quilting circle that she just started with her neighbor.”

  “Neither one,” Dina said. “They were hosting a meeting to discuss a boycott of Bier Haus because they added a cover charge and two-drink minimum for polka on Friday and Saturday nights.”

  I smiled. “Aha! The oldest activists in town strike again!”

  Dina rolled her eyes. “Good for them! As long as it’s legal and nobody gets hurt, why shouldn’t they have fun during their golden years?”

  “Do you want me to ask Blanche about Warren’s claim?”

  “If you don’t mind,” Dina said. “I can do an official interview with her in a day or two if she heard something related to the case. Just be circumspect and remember we’re working on an official murder investigation.”

  “As always,” I said. “I’ll see what Blanche might know about the spat between Warren and Wendy. Talk to a few other people that use her cleaning company. Maybe see if her neighbors noticed anything unusual in the days before she was killed.”

  Dina nodded. “That sounds good. Just keep me in the loop, and don’t go too crazy.”

  “I won’t visit every house in town,” I said. “Besides, I still owe Helen Studebaker a lemon pound cake for the advice she gave me about improving my short-term memory.”

  “Is that right?” Dina’s lopsided grin suggested that she was skeptical about my explanation. “Helen’s an expert in memory matters?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, grinning at her goofy expression. “But she did take the time to help me when I first moved back to town. I was freaked out about remembering customer names and bookkeeping details and a million other things.”

  Dina nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. “And if Helen gives you anything useful about the case, don’t forget to pass it along.”

  “Now who needs help with their memory?” I teased. “We just talked about that. I promised to keep you in the loop.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You did tell me that, didn’t you?”

  “It’s okay, detective. You’re super busy. I know how easily things can fall through the cracks.”

  “That doesn’t make it right,” Dina said. “I hate when I’m forgetful.”

  I reached into my pocket and found my phone. Then I tapped the screen, opened the note that I made when Zack and I saw Wendy on Sunday and asked Dina if she’d had time to trace the license plate.

  She frowned. “What license plate?”

  “I sent you a text on Monday,” I said. “The car tag that I saw when Wendy was arguing with a guy in front of Diebel’s Custom Tailor.”

  The frown deepened. “You sent me a text about that?
”

  I smiled, but decided to wait while she picked up her phone and searched for the message.

  “Well, look at that!” She held it up so I could see the screen. “You did send me a message that night.”

  “Yes, but it’s—”

  “Is that a Colorado plate?” she cut in. “Or was it from another state?”

  I leaned in to see her phone. “Didn’t I say it was Colorado?”

  She grinned, arching one eyebrow again. “Well, golly,” she said in a squeaky tone. “It looks like I’m not the only one who forgets things.”

  I blinked, checked the text a third time and then apologized for the omission.

  “No big deal, Katie,” she said. “And I’m sorry that I missed this on Sunday.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied.

  “Well, I’ll get on it ASAP,” she promised.

  “I’ll be curious to see what you come up with,” I said. “The guy that Wendy was talking to definitely looked sketchy.”

  Dina nodded. “I’m guessing that you didn’t recognize him.”

  “That’s correct. Neither did Zack.”

  “Where was it again?”

  “On Linwood Street,” I answered. “They were standing on the sidewalk in front of Diebel’s.”

  “Okay, got it,” she said. “I’ll let you know what I find in the system.”

  “Sounds good.” I got up from the chair. “Do you have time for dinner? Maybe just a quick sandwich?”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t that sound nice? I’d love to join you, but I need to go over the notes from Tyler’s interview with Sue Carswell one more time.”

  “Ah, I’m glad you mentioned her again,” I said. “I wanted to—”

  Her phone buzzed on the desk. She leaned forward, read the caller ID and then issued a loud groan.

  “When it rains, it pours,” she said. “I’ve got to take this call, too. I’m so sorry. What was it you were saying?”

  The phone rang a second time, pulling her eyes back to the screen.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later and finish the rest of it.”

  She glanced up again. “Thank you so much, Katie. If you decide on Café Fleur for dinner tonight, would you please have a crème brûlée for me?”