An Imitation of Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 9) (10 page)

CHAPTER
24

As I drove away from the art
gallery, I smiled and thought about Trent and his tacos—as well as his potato
chips, cookies and candy bars. Since he was in his early thirties, he could
still eat as much as he did when we met in high school and not gain a pound.
But I hoped he would be wise enough to change those habits when another ten or
fifteen years passed and his waistline expanded to become as large and
unrestrained as his jovial laugh.

When the light turned red at Gilpin
and Arapahoe, I glanced across the intersection, saw the busy CVS parking lot
and remembered a couple of things that I needed at home. Although the purchases
could wait until later, I quickly decided that a Twix bar and something to
drink would make the drive to Denver more enjoyable.

After the light changed to green, I
turned into the drug store lot, parked the car and headed for the entrance. As
I approached the front door, I noticed Marjean Bixby standing on the sidewalk.
She had a plastic shopping bag in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Howdy, Katie!” said the cheerful
silver-haired Sky High regular. “Isn’t this a lovely day?”

She gazed up at the sky, an endless
blue canopy flecked with fluffy white curlicues. I did the same and told her
that I agreed wholeheartedly with her assessment.

“Looks like you’ve already been
inside,” I said, gesturing at the shopping bag.

“Yes, I needed some cotton balls
and a few other things. My husband dropped me off about forty-five minutes ago
and went to fill up the truck.” She glanced anxiously at the traffic on
Arapahoe. “I can’t imagine what’s taking him so long.”

“Where did he go for gas?” I asked.

“I thought the MiniMart over on Lookout,”
she said. “But I’m beginning to suspect that he decided to drive out to the car
wash place on Beech. They’re giving away two free beer koozies with every
tank.”

“Did you try calling him?”

She glowered. “Daryl? He hates cell
phones.”

“Do you want me to give you a ride
home?” I offered.

She considered the idea for a
moment. Then she said, “I better wait for him, Katie. Daryl’s been in the dumps
lately and I don’t want to add to his blue mood by not being here when he
finally does show up.”

Daryl and Marjean were the founders
of the Sky High Pies Friday Lunch Bunch. The last day of every week, they came
in at noon with a revolving cast of characters to enjoy a bite to eat, lively
conversation and a slice of pie. My grandmother and Marjean had been good
friends, so it always brightened my day to see her and catch up on the latest
news from the Bixby clan.

“How are your kids doing?” I asked
as she checked the time again.

“Oh, they’re just the
best
!”
she answered, delivering the customary reply. “Did I tell you that Danny and
his wife are going to be grandparents?”

“No! That’s fantastic news,
Marjean.”

She frowned comically. “It is, but
you know what that’ll make me?”

“A great-grandmother?”

She shook her head. “A hypocrite,”
she confessed with a sly smile. “I always said that I’d stop wearing my
stilettos if and when I had a great-grandchild. But you know what, Katie?”

I leaned closer and lowered my
voice. “What’s that, Marjean?”

“I lied!” She reached down and
lifted the right leg of her taupe bell-bottoms to reveal a white suede pump
decorated with hundreds of dazzling crystals. “And I’m not going to apologize!
I love my heels, doll!”

I laughed and studied her shoe. I’d
seen something similar in
Vogue
not long ago, a pair of stunning bedazzled
pumps that retailed for nearly three thousand dollars.

“Are those Jimmy Choos?” I asked.

Marjean wiggled one eyebrow.
“Absolutely!” she said. “Daryl always wants to pinch pennies, but I keep
telling him that we can’t take it with us.”

I nodded, smiling again at the defiant
expression on her face.

“Besides,” she continued, “he has
no idea how much they cost. I told him they came from the discount rack at
Target.”

“And he believed you?”

The rebellious twinkle in her eye
faded as she giggled loudly. “Well, of course,” she said. “Daryl’s a sweet,
sweet man, Katie. But you know what my mama always said about the secrets of a
happy marriage.”

I shook my head. “Actually, I
don’t.”

“My mother, rest her soul, always
told me that—”

A horn suddenly blared directly
beside us. We both jumped in surprise and swiveled to see Daryl Bixby waving
from behind the wheel of his pickup.

“Sorry it took so long, honey!” he
called to Marjean. “I ran into Danny and Mindy! The baby’s coming! Let’s go!”

Marjean frowned, glancing at me
quickly before turning back to her husband.

“What baby?” she asked, sounding
more than a little confused.

Daryl hit the horn again. “Our
great-grandbaby! Mindy went into labor early! They were on the way to the
hospital and saw me filling up the tank.”

Marjean reached over and patted my
arm. “I guess this is my exit,” she said, still perplexed by the unforeseen
news. “You take care of yourself, Katie.”

I followed her to the truck,
waiting until she was safely inside and the door was closed.

“Congratulations, you two!” I said
through the open window.

Daryl’s hand went for the horn, but
Marjean was quicker. She grabbed his wrist, pulled back his arm and glared at
him.

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “That’s
more obnoxious than those camo boxers you got last week.”

He gave me a weary smile. “She’s
delirious with joy,” he said. “Has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, yes I do, buster!” Marjean
said, releasing his arm. “And what I’m talking about now is you better get us
over to that hospital so we don’t miss our great-grandchild’s big entrance!”

I tapped the pickup door and wished
them well. Then I watched as Daryl slid the truck into gear, glanced around the
parking lot and hit the gas. As they lurched across the pavement and into the
street, I heard Marjean’s voice and caught a glimpse through the back window of
her wagging one finger at Daryl.

“‘Hello, young lovers,’” I crooned
with a toothy grin. “‘whoever you are…’”

I kept humming the old song until
their truck disappeared behind a grove of Aspen trees. Then I went inside to
stock up on candy bars and bottled water before I set off to hopefully uncover
something helpful about the Aston Martin that was found at Pia Lincoln’s house
after she and Vito Marclay went missing.

CHAPTER 25

Although my resolve and willpower
were generally unwavering, I couldn’t resist the temptation to have a few bites
of my sweet treat as soon as I got back into the car. Nana Reed always
chastised me for eating candy bars and sugary treats that weren’t baked in the
Sky High kitchen. But I’d surrendered years ago, deciding that the occasional
incursion into enemy territory was far from a mortal sin. And for some reason,
Twix bars were among my favorites. With the crisp biscuit, chewy caramel and
smooth chocolate coating, they ticked all the boxes for me when I wanted a
quick jolt of something sweet.

As I savored the first bite, I
checked my phone for messages. There were two new voicemails from my mother,
but I decided to wait until later to listen to them.

“You deserve a moment to yourself,”
I said, leaning my head back on the seat and closing my eyes. “Just a few
seconds of rest and relaxation and empty calories.”

I took another bite of the candy
bar and my sister’s face suddenly flashed through my mind. Olivia lived in Denver
with her husband and two sons. It had been a few weeks since we got together,
so I decided to call and ask if she had time to meet for a cup of coffee while
I was in the city. But instead of Olivia’s cheery voice, I ended up listening
to an automated attendant explain that I would have the opportunity to leave a
message at the sound of the tone.

“It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing,”
I said after the high-pitched squeal ended. “I haven’t seen you in a while, so
it would be awesome if you’re—”

I heard the familiar
beep
-
beep
-
beep
signaling an incoming call. I quickly glanced at the screen and saw Dina
Kincaid’s name and office number.

“—if you’re available,” I said,
finishing the message for my sister. “Shoot me a text or call me, okay?”

I toggled over to Dina.

“Oh, there you are,” she said after
my greeting. “I was just about to hang up.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. What’s going
on, detective?”

“Vito Marclay,” she said. “Have you
ever met the guy?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” I
said. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, most importantly,” Dina
began, “I trust your judgment. I’ve talked to a few folks around town so far,
mostly neighbors and people who met him at the art gallery, and I’m getting
mixed messages. I also had a chance to exchange emails with a detective in New
York. It’s a guy I met at a conference last year who offered to lend a hand
if I ever needed anything.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He gave me a snapshot of Vito’s
time in the city,” Dina answered. “He worked a series of odd jobs while he was
getting his art thing going. Then he exploded and became one of the hot young
painters represented by—”

“Phil Bickerton?”

Dina sighed loudly. “Lady Edith
Guinness,” she said. “A British aristocrat who made a big splash for about a
decade with a gallery in Greenwich Village near NYU.”

“Sorry, detective. I thought you
were talking about the Bickertons.”

“That’s okay, Katie. They actually
didn’t meet Vito until a short time later. And I guess it was love at first
sight. They loved his paintings. He loved their beach house in Montauk. And
they all lived happily ever after until a disgruntled gallery employee tipped
the police off to an art theft and forgery ring being run out of the
Bickertons’ gallery.”

“That sounds like trouble for
somebody.”

“It was,” Dina said. “Although Phil
and Geraldine Bickerton hired an incredibly sleazy
and
incredibly
masterful attorney who got them all off the hook.”

“No jail time?”

Dina laughed. “Not even a slap on
the wrist,” she said. “I’m waiting for a copy of the case file, but my contact
said it was a truly lucky break that comes along about once every blue moon.”

“And now they’re all here in
Crescent Creek,” I said.

“Vito lives here year-round,” Dina
added. “And Phil Bickerton comes and goes now that his wife passed away. He
still has a place in New York.”

“Okay, so…you mentioned that you’d
talked to Vito’s neighbors?”

“I did.”

“What did they have to tell you?” I
asked.

“Some described Marclay as a witty,
engaging and well-mannered guy,” Dina answered. “But a couple of women have
shared some rather unsavory stories about his dating habits.”

“Uh-oh. Is he a smooth-talking
charmer who breaks promises as fast as he makes them?”

Dina didn’t answer, but I could
hear papers rustling on her end. I waited for a few moments, imagining that she
was trying to find notes from her interviews so she could share a few salient
details. When it seemed like there was a slight chance she’d forgotten about
me, I called her name.

“Oh, jeez,” she stammered, coming
back onto the line. “I’m sorry, Katie. I wanted to find this…” She cleared her
throat gently before continuing. “Okay, here’s what one woman told me: ‘We met
on a dating site, and he claimed that he was currently separated from his wife
and getting a D-I-V-O-R-C-E.’” When she laughed at the fact that the woman had
spelled out the word, I smiled to myself and waited while she finished. “‘But a
couple of dates later, he claimed to be single and never married.’”

When she stopped, I asked if she’d
be willing to share the identity of the witness.

“I’d rather not,” Dina said. “Trent
did my annual review yesterday, so I’m trying to be extra vigilant.”

“Was it Kim Hatcher by any chance?”

Dina cursed under her breath.
“How’d you know that, Katie?”

“Because,” I said, trying not to
laugh. “Kim
always
spells out certain words. It’s a habit that she picked
up after their first son was born.”

“Oh, right!” Dina said. “Like
C-O-O-K-I-E or B-E-D-T-I-M-E.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “Those are a
couple more. I think it’s kind of endearing.”

She sighed. “Unless you’re trying
to interview her about Vito Marclay.”

“Which is the most important thing
in that whole scenario. I didn’t know that Kim was dating.”

“She’s trying,” Dina said. “Now
that the youngest is in college, she figured it would be okay for her to have a
life again.”

I smiled at the thought of Kim
Hatcher venturing out into the world of first dates and awkward conversations.
She and her ex-husband had three sons during the first five years of their
marriage, but Charlie turned out to be more interested in a woman from his
office than the brood of young boys and wife at home. Since the divorce, Kim
had devoted herself to raising their sons and working a full-time job. It was
good to hear that she was getting out and about for a change.

“Obviously,” Dina continued, “she
won’t be building a new life with Vito.”

“How long did they date?” I asked.

“Until she caught him kissing
another woman in the parking lot at Food Town,” Dina answered.

“What a jerk!” I said.

“Completely,” Dina agreed. “We
found Vito’s address book in the desk at his home, so we’re interviewing as
many people as possible to see if there might be a solid lead to help determine
his whereabouts.”

“He keeps an address book?” I
asked. “Isn’t that kind of antiquated?”

“I suppose so,” Dina said. “But the
guy seems as interested in old styles of painting as he does contemporary work.
Some of the unfinished canvases in his studio were of street scenes and people
from, like, I don’t know, maybe the eighteenth century or something.”

A noisy diesel truck was pulling
into the CVS parking lot, so I asked Dina to repeat the last part of what she’d
just told me.

“And you said eighteenth century?”
I said after she finished.

“Yes, Katie,” she grumbled,
sounding slightly irritated. “For the third time, some of the canvases in
Marclay’s studio were of people dressed like the guys on the old cigar boxes my
dad used to buy.”

“Dutch Masters?” I said,
remembering my grandfather doing the same thing.

“I guess so,” Dina replied. “Dressed
all in black with wide-brimmed hats and ruffled shirts and long, curly hair.”

The truck’s brakes squealed as it
drove past my car.

“Where are you?” she said.

“The CVS parking lot,” I told her.
“But I’m getting ready to drive to Denver and check on something.”

“Isn’t it kind of late for that?”

I glanced at the glowing digital
numbers on the bank sign across the street. It was nearly four.

“I’ll be okay,” I said. “Zack’s in Santa
Fe, so I’m flying solo this week.”

“What’s he doing down there?” she
asked. “Freelance gig?”

“You got it. He’s doing product
shots for a jewelry catalog.”

“Oh, really?” she said. “Any chance
he’ll come home with an engagement ring?”

The question surprised me so much
that I snorted when I laughed.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t expect
that one.”

“Just teasing, Katie. I’ve got a
sixth sense about those things. I think Zack’s going to propose one of these
days.”

“It feels like we’re heading in
that direction.”

“And what would you answer?” Dina
said. “Y-E-S? Or would it—”

“Well, golly!” I interrupted.
“Would you look at the time? I’d better let you go so I can hit the road. I
want to be back home by ten.”

Dina snickered. “Okay,
bride-to-be,” she said. “Drive carefully and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”