Chocolate Most Deadly (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

CHAPTER
15

After my conversation with Blanche,
I escorted her to the front porch and then hurried to the kitchen to tell Julia
about the conflagration between Mrs. Speltzer and Homer Dillon. As she listened
to the story, she gaped at me in disbelief.

“Oh, c’mon!” she squealed. “Homer
did
not
say that to Blanche!”

“Yes, he did.” I paused for a quick
grin, gauging her reaction. “And if you don’t believe me, there were about a
dozen other witnesses who heard him.”

She shook her head slowly and went
back to pressing dough into a pie tin. “Well, I swear that I’ve fantasized
about something just like that about a million times, Kate. But my mama taught
me to respect my elders. I always wait until I’m far enough away so that
Blanche’s satellite dishes can’t pickup my voice.”

I smiled. “Those new hearing aids
are too good, aren’t they? I barely whispered a few words to Homer, but Blanche
heard it all.”

“Oh, well,” Julia said. “Live and
learn.”

“And then do it all over again,” I
said, checking the prep list for the remaining items. “I’ll start on the
shortbread cookies unless—”

“Done and done!” Julia said
proudly. “I was going to cross them off, but then Harper had a huge ticket for
Brenda Pinell and her kids.”

I grabbed the marker and updated
the board. “Okay, then maybe I should get to work on Blanche’s special order.”

“What is it?” asked Julia.

I ran down the list that I’d
scribbled on a sheet of paper. I omitted the Long Island Iced Tea ingredients,
although I mentioned that Blanche’s guests might be a little hungover after their
upcoming meeting.

Julia stopped working on the pie
crust long enough to smile at me. “Do you think we’ll be that wild when we’re
their age?”

“Doubtful,” I said. “We’re pretty
straitlaced right now, aren’t we?”

She finished pressing dough into
the tin. Then she pierced it with a fork and lined it with parchment paper.

“I suppose so,” she answered.
“Although there was a day, before I got married and we had kids, when I was
pretty much a party animal.”

“
You
?” I said hesitantly. “A
wild child?”

She giggled. “Well, it wasn’t like
juvenile delinquents on the loose or anything. But I did like to go out with my
friends, have a few drinks, do some dancing.”

“And when was the last time you—”

The door slammed open. Both Julia
and I jumped.

“Kate!”

It was Viveca, looking like someone
in a complete panic. Her hair was stuffed under a knit cap, her cheeks were
damp with tears and she was wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe and flip-flops.

“I just talked to Delilah!” she
said in a wheezing rush. “She sounded really weird and I’m afraid…” She stopped
to catch her breath, leaning against the counter and grabbing the front of her
robe as it threatened to open. “I’m
so
sorry,” she went on. “I just
completely panicked and ran over here!”

I could tell that Julia was dying
of curiosity, so I raised one hand to stop Viveca for a moment.

“Okay, Jules,” I began slowly.
“There’s a situation with Viv’s brother. And she asked for my help. Which is
why she’s here looking like someone who’s just seen a—”

“We’ve got to go back!” Viveca blurted.
“Delilah knows something! I can just feel it in my bones, Kate! There was
something strange about her the other day, right?”

I nodded as Julia inched silently
out of the room.

“Yes, she was different,” I said. “But
I don’t think we should just race back to Denver. Maybe your brother will call
and explain what’s going on.” I waited briefly, but she was still clutching her
chest and panting heavily. “Or maybe he’ll just show up here in Crescent
Creek,” I continued. “Stranger things have happened before.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got a
really bad feeling about all of this, Kate.”

“That’s reasonable,” I said.
“Someone left poisoned cupcakes at your brother’s doorstep. Then they killed
his neighbor and threatened to do the same thing to Tim. I think the best thing
you can do at this point is sit tight and wait for him to contact you.”

Her eyes lifted, fixing on me with
a look of fortitude and dread. “Or for the police to call me and say that he’s
been found dead somewhere.”

I went to the sink, washed my hands
and then asked Viveca if she wanted a cup of coffee. She answered with a
mutter. I filled two mugs and suggested that we go to my office and talk.

“I feel like I’m having one of
those out of body experiences,” Viv said after she was situated in the guest
chair and I’d closed the door. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s
something weird about Delilah.”

“Besides her hair?” I asked, trying
to lighten the mood a little.

“No, I mean on the phone just now.”
A feeble smile rose on my neighbor’s face. “Although, since you mentioned it,
her hair did look pretty hideous.”

It was good to see Viveca’s sense
of humor was still in there somewhere beneath the frenzied dash, the disheveled
appearance and the edgy pronouncements about her brother’s innocence. After
working as a PI in Chicago, I’d seen plenty of guilty people as well as the
falsely accused. The hardest part about determining blamelessness or
culpability was the cunning ability of human beings to fabricate stories that
seemed plausible. Until the first fissure appeared in their alibi. Or the first
witness recanted. Or something else happened to bring down the house of cards
built from dishonesty and trickery. It was too soon to know the truth about
Viveca’s brother; I’d never met the guy, so I didn’t have any firsthand
experience. But I knew her. And I could tell that she sincerely trusted her
brother and his account of the incident involving the tainted cupcakes.

As we sat in my office, quietly
sipping from our mugs, I decided that a trip back to Denver was a good idea. I
hadn’t planned on being away from Sky High again so soon, but I knew Julia was
capable of finishing Blanche Speltzer’s special order not only by herself but
with one hand tied behind her back.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said as
Viveca finished her coffee and put the mug on my desk.

She nodded.

“If you’ll go home and try to
relax,” I suggested, “I’ll do my best to get out of here a little early today
so we can drive back down to Denver.”

Viveca’s face brightened. “Oh, I
hoped you’d say that, Kate. The second I heard Delilah’s voice on the phone, I
knew something wasn’t right. And I felt that we needed to go talk to her
again.”

“Did you consider calling her
back?” I asked.

Viveca frowned. “I did! But she
still sounded weird and secretive. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

I shrugged. “Maybe she’s in shock.”
I paused to let the thought sink in. “She lives in the same apartment building
as a man who was poisoned and then suffocated to death. And even though she
knows that Tim may—”

She slammed an open hand on my
desk. “My brother didn’t do it!” Her voice filled the small office like a crack
of thunder. “Okay, Kate? Tim. Isn’t. Guilty.”

“Take a breath, Viv. You’re upset.
We’ll go back and talk to Delilah this afternoon. We’ll find out what she has
to say and how she seems in person, okay?”

Her eyes were fixed on mine as she
slowly stood and steadied herself with one hand on the chair.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I feel like such
a complete wreck.”

I got up and gave her a long hug.
“It’ll be okay, Viv. One way or another, it’ll be okay.”

CHAPTER
16

The door to Delilah’s apartment in Denver
was ajar when Viveca and I arrived around four that afternoon. I knocked
lightly, waiting for a reply as my neighbor shifted uneasily from side to side
in the hallway.

“It’s already unlocked,” she
whispered. “Can’t we just go in?”

I shook my head. She nodded and
moved back to wait. As I listened for the sound of voices, a television or
something to indicate the apartment was occupied, I considered reaching into my
purse for the Glock. In the end, after hearing nothing but my thudding heart
for several seconds, I went with my gut instinct that Delilah’s place was
empty. After deciding that the gun could stay tucked away for the time being, I
took a long, slow breath and gently nudged the door open with my hand.

“Kate?” Viveca tapped my shoulder.
“What do you see?”

“Hold on,” I answered quietly.
“Give me a minute so I can take a look.”

The tiny entryway was neat and orderly,
but the portion of the living room that I could see was a tumble of books, CDs,
hangars and clothing. It was like The Incredible Hulk had stomped through
Delilah’s home, collected all of her belongings and thrown them up in the air.

“Hello?”

My voice echoed in the stillness.

“Delilah?” I said. “It’s Kate Reed
and Tim’s sister.”

There was no reply, so I opened the
door a little wider for a better glimpse of the room. Mismatched pairs of shoes
were scattered in one corner. A pile of multicolored sweaters was draped
haphazardly over the coffee table. The floor beside a scruffy wooden bookcase
was covered with a jumble of books and magazines. Carryout menus from a popular
Chinese restaurant—Lucky Jade Bowl—had fluttered down atop the shoes and books
along with dozens of fortune cookies wrapped in clear cellophane. As I slowly
shifted my gaze, one of the books on the floor caught my eye. I recognized the
familiar blue paperback that a Sky High regular named Thurston Crane carried at
all times:
The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous
.

“Do you see anyone?” Kate
whispered.

“No,” I said. “But why don’t you
wait here for a sec, okay?”

I walked through the vestibule and
into the living room. I wanted an unobstructed view to be certain I wasn’t
seeing something that could be explained.
Maybe Delilah’s sorting things for
a rummage sale
, I thought.
Or maybe she’s cleaning out her closets.

Unfortunately, both of those
innocuous possibilities were dispatched instantly when I turned and looked
around the corner.

A man was on the floor, sprawled on
his back in a widening pool of blood.

Viveca suddenly tugged at the back
of my blouse. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

From where she stood behind me, she
couldn’t see the man. I motioned for her to move back into the hallway.

“What is it?” she said in a jittery
voice. “I can tell something’s wrong.”

“It isn’t your brother,” I told
her. “And it isn’t Delilah. Just please go back out and wait for me, okay?”

“I will,” she whispered. “But
you’re
really
freaking me out.”

As I stared at the man in the
middle of the faded Oriental carpet, it was obvious that we’d stumbled upon the
aftermath of something violent and deadly. He was bleeding from a severe head
wound, a gruesome lesion on the back of his head. I’d seen similar things in Chicago,
but it was always a shock to the system. I gazed at the gash for a brief moment
before quickly checking the surrounding area. A small black pistol sat on the
floor beside the man’s left hand. It looked like a plastic toy gun against the
pale carpet. Something colorful was tucked beneath one of his legs, a splash of
yellow, green and red that I instantly recognized as a package of Rowntree’s
Jelly Tots. One of my close friends in Chicago used to nibble on the British
candy every time we went to a movie. Finding something so frivolous and
familiar at the scene of a murder was jarring; my eyes stayed on the
multicolored cellophane wrapping until I heard Viveca again.

“When are you going to tell me what
you found?” she called from the hallway.

I turned away from the ghastly
tableau in the living room, gulping down the familiar sense of dread that I
knew from the crime scenes and morgues I’d visited during my days as a PI. I
retraced my steps out of the apartment, joining Viveca across from the open
doorway.

“What is it?” she asked. “I can
tell from the look on your face that it’s not good.”

“Let’s go downstairs,” I said,
reaching for my phone. “We need to call 911.”

She moved toward the door, her face
suddenly twisted into a tight grimace. “Are you sure it’s not Tim?”

My arm instinctively lifted to
prevent Viveca from entering the apartment and glimpsing the shocking scene.

“Come with me,” I said in a dry
murmur. “We shouldn’t be up here.”

Without another word, we quickly
walked to the stairs, hurried down to the foyer and pushed open the front door
of the building.

“911,” said the voice that answered
my call. “What’s your emergency?”

“My name is Kate Reed,” I said.
“I’m at the AltaVista Apartments on Franklin. There’s a man upstairs on the
second floor. It looks like he’s been shot.”

The dispatcher asked me to repeat
what I’d just told her. When I added that I was with another friend, she
instructed us to wait outside for the patrol cars to arrive.

“I’ve got two units on the way, Miss
Reed. And I’ll stay on the line with you until they arrive.”

“Okay, thank you. I should also add
that I didn’t try to check for vitals or resuscitate the victim because it was
obvious he was deceased.”

“How can you be sure?” The
dispatcher’s voice was a lifeless whirr, a flat and steady monotone that was
completely devoid of emotion.

“I was a PI in Chicago,” I
explained. “Unfortunately, I was on more than one crime scene that involved a
similar outcome.”

The woman asked me to hold so she
could check on the arrival time for the patrol cars. While I waited, the faint
wail of sirens sounded in the distance. By the time she returned, I could see
the flicker of their lights a few blocks away.

“Both units are just seconds from
your location,” the dispatcher said. “Do you see them?”

“Yes, thank you,” I answered. “Do
you know if Detective Adam Caldwell is on duty?”

She repeated the name quietly to
herself and then confirmed a second later that he was working. “Why do you
ask?” she said.

“It’s a friend of a friend kind of
thing,” I explained. “We just met him yesterday and—”

“I can call him if you’d like,” the
dispatcher offered. “I’m not sure exactly where he is at the moment, but since
you know him maybe it would be a good idea.”

The first Denver PD car screeched
to a stop at the curb. Viveca waved at the two officers as they climbed out and
headed toward us.

“If you don’t mind, that’d be
great,” I told the dispatcher. “My name is—”

“Kate Reed,” she said. “You already
gave it to me, ma’am. I’ll contact Detective Caldwell and let him know what’s
going on over there.”