An Imitation of Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 9) (2 page)

CHAPTER
3

The next morning at six, as I
nibbled a pecan praline scone and sipped a cup of coffee, Julia flashed a
puzzled smile in response to the news scoop that I’d just shared with her.

“Are you sure?” she said. “Pia
Lincoln and that painter from New York?”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything.
I’d already repeated the story that Pia had shared the previous afternoon
before we finished our meeting about cupcakes for Simone Strickland’s puppy.

“Is there any chance you got
confused, Katie?”

I shook my head. “No,” I assured
her. “I asked Pia to go over the details again before she left.”

“I just find it hard to believe.”

“Because Pia’s divorce was so
bitter?” I asked.

“No, because…” She let the thought
fade into silence. “You know what? I don’t feel like discussing anyone’s
divorce this morning. Let’s talk about something happy.”

I took a sip of coffee. “I lost two
pounds,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Is that happy enough?”

Julia raised her arms and did a
little dance. “That’s awesome!” she exclaimed. “How’d you do it?”

“Willpower,” I said. “I’m eating
every other bite when Zack and I have dessert.”

“What do you do with the ones you
don’t eat?” she asked.

“I feed them to Zack.” I giggled.
“His metabolism is like a freight train and he works out all the time. He can
handle the extra calories.”

She puckered her brow. “I wonder if
Jared would go for that. We’re both trying to lose a few, so the closest I get
to ice cream these days is the left turn lane on the street in front of Scoops
of Joy.”

“I feel your pain, sister!” I
cheered. “But I have to tell you—the effort is paying off. You look amazing!”

She frowned. “Thanks, Katie. But I
don’t know how much longer I can take this. Harper told me that Scoops has a
new flavor called Heavenly Hash that mixes chocolate, hazelnuts, cookie dough
and coconut.”

The corners of my mouth lifted.
“They
do
! And it’s amazing! Pia brought a sample so I could try it
yesterday during our meeting.”

Julia nodded. “Was that for the
dog’s birthday party she’s catering next month?”

“Simone’s puppy is turning one,” I
said.

“And she’s going to feed ice cream
to her dog?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s for
the two-legged guests,” I explained. “You and I are going to come up with some
dog-friendly cupcake recipes for the birthday girl and her furry friends.”

Julia’s eyes went wide. “Oh,
really?
We
are?”

“Did I forget to tell you that
part?”

She wagged one finger. “You did,
but it’s all good. I made some killer peanut butter treats for our dogs not
long ago.”

“That sounds perfect! I’ll let Pia
know we have at least one idea in the hopper.”

As I took a final sip of coffee
before heading to the walk-in, Julia asked me again about Pia’s engagement.

“Are you
absolutely
certain?” she said.

“Yes! What is the deal? You seem to
be obsessing about that, Jules.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. “I
suppose it would be best to withhold judgment until I’ve talked to Pia.”

“Probably a good idea,” I agreed.
“I mean, after all, it is her life.”

“But she
hated
that guy the
first time they met,” Julia said.

“People change.” I shrugged and
glanced at the day’s list of special orders and prep items. “You and I both
have, so why not Vito Marclay?”

Julia mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?” I said.

She heaved a sigh. “It’s none of my
business anyway. But I really think Pia was more in love with Terrance.”

“Who is that?” I asked. “I’ve never
heard her mention the name.”

“He owns a restaurant up in Boulder,”
Julia answered. “They dated for nine or ten months after meeting through one of
her catering clients. I think it was over before you moved back to town last
year.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Why
isn’t she still dating the guy from Boulder instead of Vito?”

Julia frowned. “Because Terrance’s
mother didn’t like Pia.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s what I heard,” Julia said.
“But, then again, I might be wrong. Pia told me the story one night at The
Wagon Wheel as I was starting on my second Manhattan.”

“You? Having two drinks in one
night?”

Julia blushed, turning her eyes to
the floor. “I know, but Jared took the kids camping that weekend, so it was a
rare opportunity for me to unwind a little.”

“I think that’s great, sweetie! Was
it a good night out?”

She glanced up. “Yeah,” she said
with a feeble smile. “It was good until the next morning. I woke up in the
bathtub, still dressed and holding a carryout box from Pepper & Roni’s.”

“Late-night pizza run after the
bar, huh?”

She shrugged. “Your guess is as
good as mine. When I called Pia later, she told me that Vito drove us both home
because our designated driver ended up a little too tipsy.”

“And who was your designated
driver?” I asked.

Julia reached for the recipe box on
the counter and started flicking through the cards.

“Jules?”

She didn’t say anything, so I
walked over to where she stood.

“Julia?”

She looked up.

“Were you the designated driver
that night?” I asked.

She nodded sheepishly. “Yes, but
you know what? I’m glad I had some fun. It had been a long time since I let my
hair down.”

I held up one hand for a high five.

“Good for you!” I said as she
slapped her palm against mine. “We all need to have some fun every now and
then.”

Julia grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. I had
too much to drink that night. But we did the prudent thing by calling Vito, so
it was a win-win for everybody.”

CHAPTER
4

Harper knocked on my office door
that afternoon as I was entering scribbled notes from the inventory I did
earlier into the wholesaler’s online entry system.

“Katie?”

I held up one finger. “Just a sec,
okay? I don’t want to accidentally order tofu instead of turkey again.”

She smiled and waited patiently
while I completed the form.

“Sorry,” I said, swiveling on my
chair. “What’s going on?”

“Call for you,” she said. “It’s
Pia. She sounds upset.”

“Do you know why?”

Harper shook her head. “I asked if
she was okay, but she started sniffling.”

“She didn’t give you a clue?” I
asked,

“No,” Harper said. “And Camille
Gribben just walked in with a half dozen quilters from Ireland, so I’d better
get back out there.”

The news made me smile. “Ireland?”

“They’re from something called the
Irish Patchwork Society,” Harper explained with a weak attempt at a brogue. “I
guess Camille was chatting about quilting with someone during her trip to Dublin
last year and they became friends. She invited a bunch of them to come over and
see what Colorado is all about.”

I glanced at the flashing button on
the phone as Julia’s voice skittered down the hallway from the kitchen.

“Harper?” she called. “Barb Fenwick
is behind the counter helping herself to more coffee and Buck Westridge is
bussing tables. Can you get back out there sometime this century?”

Harper rolled her eyes. “She’s in a
snit. I guess the munchkins were roughhousing last night at home and broke one
of her New Kids on the Block wine glasses.”

“Again?” I asked, suppressing a
laugh.

“She’s down to two now,” Harper
said, turning back toward the dining room. “Which is kind of sad considering
Jared bought her a set of six for her birthday last month.”

After Harper left, I closed my
laptop and picked up the phone.

“Pia?”

There was no response, so I tried
again.

“This is Kate,” I said.

“Hello?” replied a faint, faraway
voice that sounded nothing like the usually vivacious caterer.

“Is that you, Pia?”

She answered my question first with
a heavy sigh. Then she said, “Katie? Can you come over to Vito’s right away?”

The panic in her voice was
unmistakable. It sounded like she was trying to keep from sobbing long enough
to say a handful of words.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t know what happened,” she
said. “But there’s blood everywhere and Vito’s gone.”

The declaration hit like a
thunderbolt. In one instant, my brain lurched from the minutiae of completing a
dairy and produce order for Sky High to a calamitous surge of unanswered
questions.

“Okay, hang on,” I said. “Where are
you right now?”

“In his living room,” she told me.
“The front door was ajar when I got here. After knocking a few times, I pushed
it open and came inside.” She paused to exhale, a long, slow breath that I
imagined was intended to help steady her nerves. “I was coming over to discuss
our engagement party,” she continued. “But he’s not here. And there’s blood,
Katie. Lots and lots of blood.”

“Pia?”

She whimpered. “What?”

“Can you do something for me?”

“Okay.”

“Turn around and go outside to your
car,” I said. “Then wait for the police to arrive.”

“I didn’t call them yet,” she
murmured quietly. “I mean, I
would’ve
called them. But when I pulled out
my phone, I saw your number and remembered all the stories you’ve told me about
working with the police in Chicago. I thought maybe you could calm me down
enough so that I can actually…” Her voice had thinned to a ghostly whisper.
“I’m starting to feel faint, Katie.”

“Keep calm,” I said. “I want to
stay on the phone with you until I know you’re outside and safe.”

“Okay.”

“Remember the story you told me
once about your brother getting badly injured in a skateboard mishap?”

When we first met, Pia and I had
gone to dinner at Luigi’s, bonding over a long, leisurely meal and sharing
details about our personal and professional lives. For some reason, the story
about her brother, the first of many childhood memories she shared that night,
bounced through my brain every time we got together for coffee or I heard her
voice on the phone.

“Do you remember telling me about
that?” I asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you had to run all the way
home to get your parents?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Well, try and think of this moment
as something similar,” I continued. “It might distract you enough so that you
can get through it.”

“I’ll try,” she offered.

“That’s great!” I said. “Are you
ready for the next part?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s what I want you to do,” I
told her. “Go outside, get in the car and stay put. I’ll call 911 as soon as
you and I are done, okay?”

“I guess so.” She sounded frail and
bewildered, the telltale signs of shock setting in. “But what about Vito?”

“The police will be there before
you know it,” I said. “Are you walking outside?”

I waited for her to answer, but she
didn’t say anything.

“Pia?”

Again, nothing but silence, so I
repeated her name a few more times before hanging up and calling the police. As
soon as I relayed the information to the emergency operator, I grabbed my purse
and keys before scrambling toward the kitchen and the back parking lot.

“Where are you off to?” Julia
called. “I thought we were going to work on Daphne’s order for—”

But I was out the door before she
could finish her question. Daphne Hewson’s caramel cupcakes with
cinnamon-crunch topping would have to wait.

CHAPTER
5

Vito Marclay lived on Balsam Drive
in an expansive property that featured a rambling two-story house and guest
cottage behind a tall security fence. When I pulled into the gravel driveway a
half hour after leaving Sky High Pies, I saw two Crescent Creek PD cars and Pia
Lincoln’s Volvo sedan parked in front of the detached garage. Someone was
sitting behind the wheel of one CCPD cruiser, talking on the phone and studying
what appeared to be a plastic evidence bag. After leaving my car beneath a
cottonwood tree, I approached the officer with slow, deliberate steps until he
looked up.

It was Stephen Castle, a 10-year
veteran of the force and one of the best skiers in Crescent Creek. Before
joining the department, Stephen had earned a criminal justice degree while
working as a ski and snowboard instructor in Aspen.

“Hey, Kate,” he said. “I heard you
called this in.”

I nodded. “Is Pia in the house?”

Stephen shook his head. “Amanda
just took her around back to sit on the terrace. She was pretty hysterical when
we got here.”

“Sounded like that when she called
me,” I said. “What’s it look like in there?”

He frowned. “Not pretty. We found a
large pool of blood on the living room floor.”

He held up the evidence bag. It
contained a hunting knife that was stippled with brownish spots.

“And this was beside the kitchen
sink,” he added. “Right out in plain sight.”

We both stared at the razor-sharp
weapon. The blade appeared to be made from stainless steel and the wood handle
was engraved with three letters:
EAH
.

“Maybe someone’s initials?” I
asked.

Stephen grunted. “Beats me.” He
pointed at the metal hand guard between the blade and grip. “I’d be more
interested to learn who the blood belongs to.”

I leaned closer, narrowing my gaze
to study the dark blotches.

“What do you think?” I asked.
“Maybe the person who was wielding the knife accidentally nicked themselves
during the incident?”

He glanced up and smiled. “You make
me laugh, Kate. Running that pie place when your heart still craves the good
old days in Chicago.”

I laughed softly. “I won’t argue
with you on that, but I love being back in Colorado. And there are some things
that I don’t miss about being a PI.”

“Bad coffee on stakeouts?” he
suggested.

“That’s right!” I made a face. “Bad
coffee, long hours and some of the cranky clients.”

He smiled. “Well, don’t you still
deal with long hours and difficult customers at Sky High?”

“Now and then,” I said. “But at
least the coffee’s always hot and tasty.”

The lighthearted moment lingered
briefly before we both went back to the knife in his hands.

“Where did you find the victim?” I
asked finally.

Stephen looked up. “That’s the
problem. We’ve got a pool of blood and this knife, but no vic.”

I frowned. “Really?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“When Pia called, she was already
pretty upset,” I said. “I figured that maybe she hadn’t mentioned Vito because
she was in such a state of shock after seeing him either grievously wounded or
dead.”

Stephen put the evidence bag on the
passenger seat as his phone rang.

“I don’t know about that,” he said,
checking the display on the screen. “We’ve searched the house and all the other
structures on the property. No Vito. No anybody.”

“Except Pia,” I said.

Stephen’s eyes tapered. “You got
it, Katie. Nobody here except her.”

His phone continued to ring, so I
asked if he needed to take the call.

“It’s my sister,” he said. “I’ll
give her a buzz later.”

I heard footsteps nearby and turned
to see Amanda Crane coming around the side of the garage.

“Hey, Katie. What are you doing
here?”

“Pia called me when she found…” I
gestured toward the house. “…whatever’s inside. Is she still on the terrace?”

Amanda smiled. “She’s back there on
a chaise. The poor thing said she needed to lay down, but we obviously couldn’t
let her go back in the house.”

“Of course,” I said.

“It’s also probably the safest
place for her at the moment,” Amanda added. “And I bet she’d welcome the
company if you want to go around and maybe see her for a second or two.”

“I can do that,” I said. “How’s it
going inside?”

Stephen nodded. “Slow and steady.
The place was tossed pretty badly.”

“And there’s no sign of Marclay?” I
asked.

“Not so far,” he said. “But we’ve
got the word out. We’ll find him.”

Amanda gestured toward the pebble
pathway that looped around Vito’s house.

“Do you want to go on back and see
Pia?” she said. “I’ll be right there as soon as I get something out of my car.”

As I started to leave, the
walkie-talkie hooked to her belt crackled with a voice that was more than a
little familiar.

“You there, Crane?” said Trent
Walsh, my longtime friend and Deputy Chief of the local police department. “Over.”

Amanda plucked the radio from her
waist, toggled the button and announced that she was on the scene. “But there’s
one more thing,” she said, giving me a smile. “Katie’s—”

“Yeah, okay,” Trent cut in. “I
wanted to give you a heads up that Katie Reed will probably be out there
snooping at some point. She’s early thirties, fairly attractive and likes to
poke around in things. I just heard from dispatch that she called in the possible
disturbance on Balsam Drive. Over!”

“Thanks, I’ve got it,” Amanda said,
blushing with unease at the teasing remarks. “We’ll keep you updated as we—”

A massive burst of static came over
the radio and Amanda held it away from her ear. By the time she tried to finish
her sentence, Trent was gone.

“Well, I guess he was too busy to
wait for the rest,” she said, giving me a wink. “Sorry you had to hear that,
Katie. As you know, he doesn’t filter his comments when he gets busy.”

“That’s true,” I said. “And Deputy
Chief Walsh is almost always a busy guy.”

A mischievous smile appeared on
Amanda’s face. “Busy,” she said quietly. “And a touch impatient.”