Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6) (2 page)

BOOK: Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6)
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CHAPTER
3

 

 

When Pinky and I stepped through
the front door of Home Suite Home, Portia Pearson was sitting on a sumptuous
red velvet loveseat in the middle of the furniture store she’d inherited from
her father a few years earlier.

“Well, look what the cat dragged
in!” she twanged in her vaguely Southern accent. “Everyone else was thoughtful
enough to arrive early!”

“Oh, brother,” Pinky grumbled under
her breath. “I can feel the tip of that knife blade already.”

“How are you, Portia?” I asked as
we made our way across the crowded showroom floor.

“I. Am.
Fab
ulous!” She stood
gracefully and flashed a smile that confirmed the power of bleach and porcelain
veneers. “Are you both ready for the preliminary round of dessert and snack
samples? We have fifteen entries in both categories, so we’ll need to eliminate
five from each this afternoon. The final ten will be judged on stage during the
last night of the festival.”

Pinky muttered behind me, but I
ignored the complaint. I didn’t want to trip over anything as we walked toward
our host. Portia’s father had opened the store long before she was a twinkle in
his eye. During the years that he ran the business, it was a popular spot for
midrange prices, overstuffed recliners and convenient Lay-A-Way plans. When Mr.
Pearson retired to Arizona and bequeathed the store to Portia, she transformed
it overnight into a showcase for extravagant designer collections, pricey
European antiques and a snooty atmosphere that hissed
If you have to ask the
price, what the heck are you doing here?

“Sorry we’re late,” Pinky offered
as we looped through a minefield of multicolored ottomans. “My car wouldn’t
start, but Katie was kind enough to give me a lift.”

“Don’t you fret about it, sugar,”
purred the matriarch of opulent décor accessories and founder of the Crescent
Creek Food & Wine Festival. “Everyone else is downstairs enjoying a
cocktail.”

“Oh, good!” Pinky said, swerving to
avoid an enormous brown leather headboard. “I’m parched and it’s been a
terrible day!”

I was surprised that Portia would
serve alcohol to the judges before they sampled entries for the annual
festival, but I wasn’t about to question her authority. The scowl on her face
and barbed tone of her voice told me to just go with the flow.

“The store looks amazing,” I said.
“You’ve changed things around since the last time I was here.”

Portia smiled, but didn’t say a
word. The expansive space was divided into several areas containing artfully
arranged furniture meant to suggest a contemporary living room, a tasteful
master bedroom and something that suggested Prehistoric Caveman Meets
Tomorrowland, a cluster of clear plastic furniture and angular metal chairs
accented with faux sheepskin throws.

When we finally reached Portia, she
raised her chin, appraised our outfits and pushed her tomato red lips into a
nearly believable grin.

“Don’t you both look
absolutely
stunning!” She minced closer on her stilettos. “Two of the most beautiful
volunteers in the history of our little event!”

Pinky and I had both agreed to
serve as judges for the annual event a few weeks earlier. I’d considered
declining the request, but Julia and Harper had cornered me in the kitchen at
Sky High to explain why that wasn’t an option. “Don’t you remember what happened
to Antonia Schlagle?” Julia had asked. “She turned down Portia’s offer and they
found her dead at the bottom of Laudermilk Mountain the very next week!”
Although the death had been ruled an accident, local scuttlebutt attributed it
to Portia’s keen interest in revenge and her sizeable collection of vintage
voodoo dolls.

“You’re too kind,” I said, doing my
best not to choke on the cloud of perfume that followed Portia everywhere.
“It’s such an honor!”

“Quite true,” she said. “And…you’re
welcome, Muffin.”

I held my smile without cringing or
letting her know how much I detested the childhood epithet. One evening at Bier
Haus, when my sister was visiting from Denver, Olivia had spilled the beans
about the nickname. Portia had grinned playfully at the revelation, brandishing
it with glee during every conversation since that night.

“Should we go downstairs?” She
waved a willowy hand toward the staircase in the rear of the store. “Lacy
Orvane came in extra early to get everything ready for the tasting, so we should
be ready to begin.”

As Pinky and I followed Portia
toward the stairs, she reminded us of our vital role in tasting and evaluating
entries in two categories: Decadent Desserts and Sassy Snacks. When I’d read
the email invitation to join the panel of judges, I smiled at the cutesy names.
Until I saw the final paragraph of Portia’s note:
Your mother and
grandmother both served, Katie! This is an offer you simply
cannot
refuse!

I was thinking about the veiled
threat when Portia’s assistant met us as the bottom of the steps. Daphne Wright
was a tall, dark-haired young woman wearing a pale pink blouse and pleated gray
slacks. I’d only talked with her a time or two, but I got the sense that she
knew Portia’s assistant should follow the adage about children: seen and not
heard. Since Daphne was twenty-two and a recent college graduate, I wondered
how she felt about such a subservient role.

“The other judges are in the
conference room,” Portia said, gesturing toward the double doors at the far end
of the narrow basement corridor. “Daphne will get you something to drink while
I run back upstairs to make sure the front door is locked. We had a little…”
She paused, glaring briefly at her assistant. “Well, we had a little
incident
earlier when someone who shall remain nameless …” She gave Daphne another
furious scowl. “…left the delivery door unlocked as if we were inviting the
local riffraff to come right in from the alley and help themselves to whatever
they could find.” She sneered at Daphne again. “And, when you consider that
she’s
never
done that before, it’s even more surprising!”

“But my keys went missing somehow,”
said the timid assistant. “You were running errands or whatever, so I couldn’t
use your set to lock the door. I mean, I tried to—”

“Yes, yes,” Portia snapped. “That’s
all
very
fascinating, but I doubt if our guests give a hoot.”

I was afraid the uncomfortable
silence that followed would be endless, but Pinky quickly thanked Portia for
the update and held one hand toward Daphne.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she
said. “My name is Pinky Newton.”

Portia smirked silently before
click-clacking on her heels back up the staircase.

“And I’m Kate Reed,” I added,
shaking the young woman’s trembling hand.

“What would you like to drink?”
asked Daphne.

“I’m fine for the moment,” I said. “How
about you, Pinky?”

“A cup of tea would be perfect,”
she said. “And maybe a thimble of strychnine for Portia.”

I gasped at the sinister quip as
Daphne smiled—nervously and with a darting sideways glance.

“I’m teasing!” Pinky whispered. “I
think half a thimble should do the trick!”

CHAPTER
4

 

 

A chorus of bubbly voices spilled
into the corridor as Pinky and I approached the conference room. I recognized
them instantly: Becca Hancock, proprietor of my favorite vintage clothing store;
Yvonne Masterson, a retired bookkeeper with a penchant for rescuing orphaned
cats; Luigi Benedetto, owner of the most popular Italian restaurant in town;
and, Harley West, a local caterer renowned for his artisanal goat cheese.

“Kate Reed!” Luigi cheered when I
walked through the door. “Welcome, welcome,
welcome
!”

“Thank you, thank you,
thank you
!”
I smiled. “How is everyone?”

“We’re doing great,” Becca said,
raising a highball glass. “Although I don’t know how well I’ll be able to judge
anything after I finish this!”

“Alright, everyone!” Portia said,
sweeping into the room with a clipboard in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Now that our two slowpokes have arrived, we can finally get started!”

I caught the scowl on Pinky’s face before
it vanished. “I’m sorry,” she said to the other judges. “It’s all my fault.”

Portia dismissed the apology with a
wave of the clipboard. “Yes, yes. But let’s not dwell on your shortcomings,
Pinky. We need to begin in just a moment or two. I’d like to ask that you all
switch off your phones and make any last minute trips to the loo.”

Pinky dropped her purse on the
table and returned to the door. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Nature’s
calling!”

After she left, Portia came toward
where I stood. “I wanted to extend a special welcome, Kate. Since this is your
first time on our panel and all.”

“I’m really happy to help,” I said
as Portia wrapped me in a fleeting hug that felt as warm as a slice of Baked
Alaska. “It’s such an honor to serve as a judge for the festival.”

She lowered her arms and stepped
back. “Well, as you probably know, I
love
tradition, Kate. And you’ve
got big shoes to fill. Both your mother and grandmother were among our most
revered tastemakers.” She paused and quickly surveyed my outfit: faded jeans,
bulky cardigan over a white turtleneck and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. “Although,
to be honest, they both had more of a flair for appropriate attire.”

I was prepared for the barb, so I
simply smiled and explained that my Michael Kors gown was being altered.

“Oh, really?” Portia’s mouth curled
into a dismissive squiggle. “I didn’t know he made things for someone so…
voluptuous
.”

Luigi Benedetto stood and walked around
the long table. “He does indeed, Miss Portia. He makes all of my chef’s coats.”
His chubby hands patted his belly. “And, as you can see, I, too, am very
voluptuous.”

For a brief moment, the tension in
the room sizzled, but then I moved closer, surrounded Portia with both arms and
gave her another hug. “It’s so nice of you to include me,” I said in my most
disarming tone. “I’m truly flattered to be here today.”

When she realized that her
impertinent remarks hadn’t bothered me in the least, Portia pressed her lips to
my ear. “Sorry about what I just said,” she whispered as Luigi returned to his
seat. “I’m exhausted from all of the festival meetings. You look absolutely…” I
waited for the finalé to her unexpected apology, imaging that she’d conclude with
ravishing
,
breathtaking
,
stunning
or
flawless
.
“…well, you look utterly
comfortable
, Kate.”

I refrained from laughing. Instead,
I thanked her again and walked over to the unoccupied chair between Becca and
Luigi.

“Normally, we do our preliminary
tasting session the day before the festival,” Portia explained. “But we’ve had
so many entries this year, that I decided to eliminate a few so that you’ll
only need to sample ten desserts and ten snacks next weekend at the festival.”

“How many people entered the desserts
category?” I asked.

Portia glanced down at her
clipboard. “There’s a total of fifteen,” she said. “Although I think we can
probably just eliminate Trudy Branch before we begin.”

Yvonne Masterson tapped her cane on
the edge of the table. “Why on earth would you do that? She’s got a right to
compete just like everybody else.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree,” Portia
said. “But Trudy enters the same tasteless cardboard cream puffs every year.
And, to be honest, I explained that we’d be happy to see a creation that was
maybe a little more—”

Someone screamed in the hallway.

“Heavens,” Portia said. “Was that—”

A second shriek sounded as Pinky
Newton lurched into the open doorway.

“Come quickly!” she shouted. “It’s
Lacy Orvane! I think she ate one of the chocolate-dipped strawberries!”

Portia slowly removed her reading
glasses. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Everyone knows that Lacy usually sneaks a
bite or two beforehand. It’s hardly a sin if she couldn’t wait for the rest of
us.”

“That’s not it!” Pinky sputtered.
“I think she’s dead!”

CHAPTER
5

 

 

Lacy Orvane was on her back in the
next room, one leg twisted beneath the other at an awkward angle. Her eyes were
fixed on the coffered oak ceiling, a wide-eyed stare that sent a chill down my
back as I knelt beside her.

“Is she dead?” Pinky asked
nervously.

I lifted Lacy’s right arm, found a
faint pulse and watched as a chocolate-dipped strawberry tumbled from her hand.
It landed on the carpet with a faint
thump
and rolled toward the credenza
where all of the desserts and snacks for the judging session were arranged in
neat rows.

“Call 911!” I said as the other
judges poured into the room. “And get me something to put under her head!”

Pinky was on her phone in a flash,
telling the emergency operator that we needed an ambulance for a fainting
victim.

“I don’t think she fainted,” Luigi
whispered, tapping my shoulder. “Maybe it was a heart attack.”

I kept my eyes on Lacy as the small
group swarmed around our friend on the floor. “Anything’s possible,” I replied,
glancing at the wayward piece of fruit. “But I think it would be a good idea to
put that strawberry in a plastic bag.”

“What on earth for?” Portia hissed.
“Daphne can clean things up later.”

I looked over my shoulder.
“Please,” I said. “Will you do that for me?”

Her eyes widened slightly as she
realized the seriousness of my request. Portia and I had talked a few times
about my years as a private investigator in Chicago. She was also aware that
I’d assisted the local police with a couple of cases since I moved back to Colorado.
Between those previous conversations and the expression on my face, she could
tell that I suspected our fellow committee member’s predicament might not be as
simple as a fainting spell.

While I kept one hand on Lacy’s
shoulder and the other on her wrist, Daphne rushed into the room with a small
needlepoint pillow.

“Will this do?” she murmured,
crouching on the floor. “It’s from the showroom upstairs.”

As I carefully raised Lacy’s head,
Daphne slid it underneath. I caught a quick glance of the proverb on the front
before it was obscured by our friend’s luxurious curls:
I’d Give Up
Chocolate, But I’m No Quitter!

“The ambulance should be here in a
couple of minutes,” Pinky said from the doorway. “Is there anything else that
we should do in the meantime?”

I looked up again. “Pray,” I said.
“And cross your fingers.”

BOOK: Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6)
11.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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