A Zest for Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 5) (14 page)

CHAPTER
36

The Sky High kitchen smelled like
cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee when I came downstairs the next morning
at five. Julia was leaning down to peer into the lower oven, both hands covered
with bright pink quilted mitts and a wooden spoon clutched between her teeth.

“Morning, Jules,” I called from the
door. “What time did you get here?”

“Four-fifteen,” she answered after
removing the spoon. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Again?”

“I’ve lost count of how many nights
it’s been.” She stood up, opened the oven door and pulled out an oblong baking
pan. “Maybe six or seven.”

I shuffled toward the coffee. “What
about sleeping pills?”

“I don’t like the way I feel the
next morning.” She put the rolls on a trivet to cool, fanning the top with one of
the giant mitts. “If it doesn’t get any better soon, I’ll go in and see Dr.
Fulbright.”

Julia was a talented chef, a loyal
friend and one of the kindest women I’d ever met. She was also a world-class
worrier, constantly agonizing about everything imaginable, from the safety of
her three kids to whether or not she might’ve offended the cashier at Walmart
with a silly remark about the woman’s sweater.

“Maybe the good doctor can help you
stop fretting about things so much,” I suggested, filling a mug with the
steaming java.

“I know, but it’s hardwired into my
brain, Katie. My mom’s a worrier. My grandmother’s a worrier. I think it’s just
something I have to learn to live with.”

Since I could tell from the look on
her face that she wasn’t in the mood to talk about the legacy of anxiety that
threaded through her family, I asked if she wanted a blueberry smoothie.

“You fixing one for yourself?”

“I am indeed,” I answered. “The
coffee will perk up my brain and the blueberries with make me smarter.”

She smiled and did a little happy
dance. “Sounds good to me!”

I took a quick look at the
whiteboard. For once in a blue moon, the list of special orders was fairly
slim.

“I’ll whip up the smoothies,” I
said. “Then we can get down to business.”

“That works, boss!”

As I crossed the room toward the
walk-in cooler, I asked if she’d checked the Sky High voicemail.

“Yep! Kitty Trask called at
midnight to say she needs two dozen mocha cupcakes instead of one, Pamela
something-or-other asked you to call her about desserts for a retirement party
and there’s a really weird message that sounded like Darth Vader.”

I came out of the cooler with the
blueberries, soy milk and a small handful of kale. “And what did he want?”

She glanced down at the floor. “I
can’t even say it aloud, Katie. The language was pretty spicy.” Her face was
red with embarrassment. “And
very
inappropriate. My guess is some kids
got the bright idea late last night to make prank calls.”

“You sure it wasn’t my brother?”

She made a little squeaking sound.
“Brody? Why on earth would he do that?”

“Whenever he gets sloshed, he
regresses to the mentality of a prepubescent boy. He’s called after midnight a
couple of times in the past few months.”

“And what did he say?”

“What do you think? He disguises
his voice by huffing and puffing. Then he says, ‘Luke, I am your father.’”

“Okay, yeah,” Julia said. “Then it
probably
was
your brother, because whoever called blurted that line
right before they hung up.”

I dropped the berries and kale into
the blender, poured in the soy milk and secured the lid.

“I’ll call him later if I
remember,” I said, mixing the smoothie ingredients until they were thoroughly
combined.

“Want me to remind you?” Julia
giggled. “I can always add it to the whiteboard.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll shoot him a
text this morning and tell him I want to talk. That way, if I forget to call
him, he’ll get in touch this afternoon or tonight.”

I filled two glasses with the
blue-green mixture and handed one to Julia.

“Here you go, Jules.” I raised my
glass. “Let’s make it another great Sky High day!”

After she sampled the drink,
Julia’s expression shifted. “Can I ask a question?”

“Always,” I said, sipping my
smoothie.

“Do you think they’ll find Tipper before…”
Her voice dropped away and she frowned. “I mean, I hate to even say it, but do
you—”

“Yes!” I interrupted. “They’ll find
her. They’ll catch whoever’s responsible. And things around Crescent Creek can
go back to normal.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “So do
I, Jules. So do I.”

CHAPTER
37

When my sister called around
two-thirty that afternoon, I was in the Sky High office finishing the daily
bookkeeping.

“I just wanted to remind you that
I’m stopping there tomorrow on the way home from Salt Lake City,” she said
after I answered.

“I remembered,” I said. “What time
do you think you’ll be here?”

“Depends on traffic and weather,”
she said. “They’re predicting snow in the morning, so that may delay my
departure a little bit.” She snickered softly. “Not that I’m in any hurry to
leave the Hotel Monaco. It’s
really
incredible, Katie!”

She sounded bubbly and her words
were slightly slurred, so I asked if she’d been drinking.

“One glass of wine with lunch,” she
whispered.

“Liv?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I wasn’t,” she said in a slightly
louder tone. “You probably just weren’t listening closely enough. I bet you’re
doing something else right now while you talk to me.”

“We call that ‘multi-tasking,’
darling sister.”

She clucked her tongue. “Well, I
call it being impolite!”

I’d been around my sister enough
times when she had one too many glasses of wine to know that her confession
about lunch had been underestimated. I also knew that there was no point in
pressing the matter. Besides, I couldn’t blame her; the business trip to Salt
Lake City had been a rare respite from life in Denver where she juggled a
stressful job, one scatterbrained husband and two demanding twin sons.

“I’m sorry if you feel that way,” I
said, trying to sound contrite. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

I heard ice cubes clink in a glass.
“It’s okay. I maybe had two glasses at lunch. I’m drinking juice now.”

“How’s the trip going?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s been a big success,” she
said. “I won’t bore you with the details. But the reason I had two chardonnays
with my salad is because things went so well. I wanted to celebrate and blow
off some steam.”

“Sounds like a great idea, Liv! You
deserve some ‘me time’ every so often.”

She sighed. “I know. That’s why I’m
heading to the hotel spa in twenty minutes for a hot stone massage, a mani-pedi
and a mud bath.”

“Wish I could join you,” I said,
feeling a tiny dash of jealousy. “We could have a day of beauty, go out for
dinner at a fancy restaurant and then hit the town for a night of dancing.”

“Let’s do it!” she blurted. “If you
go to the airport
right this second
, you could be here for dinner and
dancing!”

“That would be fun,” I agreed. “But
not very practical.”

“Delta has a five-thirty,” she announced.
“You’d be at the hotel by eight, Katie!”

I listened as she quickly ran
through all of the reasons a spontaneous trip to Utah made sense. Then I
graciously declined the invitation, explaining why a spur-of-the-moment
overnight adventure was out of the question.

“Oh,
pleeeeease
!” she
droned. “Julia and Harper can take care of Sky High for one day!”

“It’s more than that,” I said.
“Tipper’s still missing. There’s no way I can leave Crescent Creek until she’s
safe from harm.”

The announcement left my sister
momentarily speechless. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat, apologized
for being so silly and asked for an update on the case.

“Do you think they’ll let her go
eventually?” she said when I finished.

I started to answer, but the reply
caught in my throat. During my years as a PI in Chicago, I’d heard far too many
tragic stories about abductions that didn’t end well.

“Katie?”

“Sorry, Liv. I was…” I took a quick
breath. “Just keep Tipper in your thoughts and prayers, okay? Trent and his
team are working nonstop to locate her.”

“Why can’t they find her if she’s
still in Crescent Creek?” Liv asked. “It’s a small town. I can’t believe the
kidnappers could just hide her like that for so long.”

“It’s not that easy,” I said.
“Whoever’s doing this is smart. They’re using untraceable phones and Tipper’s
car had been wiped clean. It stands to reason that they’re hiding out somewhere
in the area until the ransom is delivered. They might even be moving her from
one place to another to avoid detection.”

Neither one of us said anything for
a few moments. Finally, my sister whispered, “Are you doing okay?”

I felt another wave of anxiety
building, so I told her that I looked forward to seeing her the following day.

“Okay, me too,” she said, sounding
much more clear-headed than she had at the beginning of the conversation. “But
don’t ever forget this, Katie—I’m here if you need to talk.”

CHAPTER
38

I was climbing out of my car in the
parking lot at the Crescent Creek PD later that day when I heard someone tap
their horn a few times. I’d run out to replenish the stash of chocolate-covered
almonds that I kept in my apartment. On my way home, I made a
spur-of-the-moment decision to stop and check in with Trent. The longer the
search for Tipper dragged on, the higher my blood pressure climbed. I knew that
I could call for an update, but there was something reassuring about sitting
face-to-face to hear the most recent news.

At first, I thought maybe Trent was
responsible for the muffled horn taps, but then I realized it was Dina Kincaid.

“Hey, detective,” I said as we
closed the distance between us. “How’s your night going?”

She held up a McDonald’s bag.
“Dinner is served. Want to split a Quarter Pounder?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got leftover
chicken pot pie at home. I just wanted to see if we’d heard anything new about
Tipper.”

Even though her face was partially
obscured by shadow, I saw the dejected look in Dina’s eyes. “Nothing in the
last few hours,” she said. “We had a tip earlier about the alley behind the
hardware store, but the group that swept it didn’t find anything useful.”

“Just beer bottles and cigarette
butts?”

She grinned. “C’mon, Katie. Let’s
get inside where it’s warmer. Trent should be up in the conference room on the
second floor with a couple of the guys.”

As we crossed the lobby and headed
toward the elevator, Dina told me that Tipper’s mother had called earlier.
Apparently, she’d received a series of messages from someone purporting to be
the kidnapper. The voice on the phone was garbled, but Mrs. Hedge was adamant
that it was a man. He’d asked for two-hundred grand in exchange for Tipper’s
release.

“Is she going to pay the ransom?” I
asked.

“She’s working on getting the cash
together,” Dina said as we reached the elevator. “But she also told me something
really interesting. Two-hundred thousand is the exact amount that Tipper tried
to borrow about a month ago to help her new boyfriend with a business deal.”

The elevator arrived, we stepped
inside and Dina punched the button for the second floor. As the doors creaked
slowly shut, I asked her to tell me more about the call from Mrs. Hedge.

“I was actually pretty impressed,”
she began. “Tipper’s mom is one tough cookie. She had the presence of mind to
ask for proof of life. They sent a picture, but it’s pretty blurry.”

Dina clutched the McDonald’s bag in
one hand and dug in her coat pocket with the other. She came out with her
phone, asked me to hold the Quarter Pounder and then pulled up the photo that
Mrs. Hedge had forwarded.

“Can I see?” I asked.

She nodded. “Like I said, it’s not
the best.”

As the elevator climbed slowly
toward the second floor, she held up her phone and I studied the picture for a
few seconds. Tipper looked flustered and confused. Her hair was uncombed, the
mascara around her eyes was smeared and a piece of duct tape covered her mouth.
As the elevator doors opened on the second floor, my eyes stopped directly
behind Tipper.

“I’ve seen that lithograph before,”
I said, pointing at the phone.

“You’ve seen what?” Dina looked at
the image again. “Oh, that,” she said casually. “That’s just an old Abraham
Lincoln poster.”

I shook my head, leaning forward
and pointing at the screen. “No, it isn’t,” I said. “That’s a Salvador Dali
lithograph.”

I paused to gauge her reaction, but
she didn’t say anything. When the elevator doors began to close again, I used
my hand to stop them so we could step into the hallway.

“You can’t tell from this, but when
you get up close to the actual thing, it’s a bunch of different images—some
colored blocks, a woman’s back, an orange sky, the silhouette of a woman’s
head. And when you step back, the cubes of color form a portrait of Abraham
Lincoln.”

Dina smiled. “Thanks for that,
Katie. But I’m more interested in where and when you saw it?”

“Remember Dermot Flanagan’s dad had
that white water rafting business?”

She squinted and shook her head.

“He rented an old vacant gas
station out on Half Moon Road,” I added. “It did great for a couple of years
before—”

“Is that where you saw the Abraham
Lincoln picture?”

“Yes! I stopped by the other day,
just following a hunch about Dermot.”

“What about him?”

“I don’t really have anything
concrete yet, but—”

Footsteps echoed toward us from the
far end of the hall.

“I thought I heard you two,” said
Trent.

“Katie’s got something,” Dina
called.

He smiled. “Yeah? What might that
be?”

“She may have found Tipper,” Dina
announced, walking toward where he stood.

“What was that?” he bellowed.

“I think we know where they’re
holding Tipper,” I said.

Trent’s loopy grin fell flat. “You
serious?”

Dina held out her phone. “The
Abraham Lincoln poster,” she said. “Katie saw it hanging inside an abandoned
building out on Half Moon Road.”

“Then why are we standing around?”
Trent roared, grabbing the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Let’s have dispatch send
the nearest patrol cars, and then we should all get out there
now
!”