Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6) (3 page)

CHAPTER
6

Portia Pearson sat at one end of
the long mahogany table, tapping her lacquered nails against the wood and
scowling at the clock on the far wall. The lights in the conference room had
been dimmed, and the faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air.

“How much longer are they going to
make us wait?” she griped. “We have work to do!”

We’d been in the room for nearly an
hour. After the ambulance arrived and the paramedics began assessing Lacy’s
condition, Hank Russell, one of the first responders and a veteran of the
Crescent Creek Police Department, had asked the festival judges to wait in the
conference room until Dina Kincaid could talk to us. As lead detective with the
department, she often conducted the city’s official inquiries into crimes that
involved theft, property damage, personal injury, accidents or death.

“This is taking
forever
,”
Portia hissed. “I feel like a prisoner!”

“Imagine how Lacy must feel,” Pinky
said quietly.

Portia stopped drumming her
fingers. “What was that?”

“She must be terrified,” Pinky
continued. “If she can even comprehend what’s happening.”

Luigi swiveled his chair away from
the table and got to his feet. “Pinky’s right,” he said, stretching his arms
overhead. “Miss Orvane has had some type of medical emergency. We should all
pray for her speedy recovery.”

The rebuke left Portia silent, but
I could see the fury swirling in her eyes and the muscles of her jaw working overtime.
She clenched and seethed and fumed, but didn’t say another word for at least
fifteen minutes. While we continued waiting for Dina, Pinky kept busy with a
crossword puzzle, Luigi sipped the glass of merlot that he’d poured earlier and
I monitored Sky High emails for new special orders or inquiries about our
catering business. Becca, Yvonne and Harley sat quietly in their chairs.

I was reading a new email when
Portia suddenly lurched out of her chair, walked to the door and angrily
demanded to know how much longer we’d have to wait. I glanced up from my phone
just as Hank Russell appeared in the doorway.

“Detective Kincaid will be with you
shortly,” the CCPD officer told Portia. “If you need to use the facilities,
you’re more than—”

“It’s not
that
!” Portia
snapped. “I have a festival to organize! Desserts and snacks to judge! And a
conference call with our keynote speaker coming up in a half hour!”

Hank looked at me quickly before turning
back to Portia. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss Pearson, but all of the food
in the other room has been confiscated as evidence.”

Portia’s jaw dropped low enough
that I caught a glimpse of the fillings in one of her molars.

“As
what
?” she screeched.

Hank repeated what he’d just told
her before closing the door.

“Portia?” I said gently.

She whirled around. “What?”

“Why don’t we at least talk about
the festival?” I suggested as she returned to her chair. “That might take your
mind off of the—”

But before I could finish my
suggestion, the door opened again. Dina Kincaid came into the room, a grim
expression on her face and a legal pad in her hand.

“Thank you all for being so
patient,” she said, taking a seat at the table. “I know this is a difficult and
confusing situation, but I appreciate your flexibility. I have a few questions
that I’d like to ask right now, although I may need to speak with you again
during the course of our investigation.”

Portia’s hands trembled as she
leaned forward in her chair. “Investigation? Into someone fainting or having a
heart attack?”

I saw Dina’s eyes widen briefly.
“We don’t know what happened to Miss Orvane,” she said, sounding solemn and
unruffled. “The only way we can uncover the truth is to collect evidence, speak
to witnesses and analyze our findings.”

Luigi’s chair squeaked when he
shifted to address Dina directly. “Miss Detective?”

“Dina is fine,” she said.

The rotund chef smiled. “Thank you,
Miss Dina. My restaurant is open for business, as you know. My assistants are
wonderful people, but they aren’t Chef Luigi. Can you tell me how soon we will
be allowed to go about our business?”

“As soon as we finish the
interviews,” she answered. “First, I’d like to talk with all of you together
for a few minutes. After that, I’ll spend few minutes alone with each of you
upstairs in the Winchester Bedroom Suite.” She smiled. “That sounded weird,
didn’t it? I just…well, that’s where I’ve set up a temporary command post.”

Portia’s face brightened at the
mention of her signature furniture collection. “That’s a lovely choice,
detective. And, might I add, the Winchester is one of our most popular sets
with discerning shoppers. In fact, we’ve reduced the price on—”

“Thank you, Portia,” Dina
interrupted. “I’m sure everyone would love to hear about your furniture, but
why don’t we do that at a more appropriate time?”

The glimmer in Portia’s eyes faded
as Dina glanced at her phone to check an incoming message.

“Who can tell me what happened here
today?” she said. “In particular, I’m interested to learn when Lacy left the
rest of the group and went into the next room with the desserts and snacks.”

Pinky put one hand above her head,
waiting patiently until Dina looked up from her notes.

“Oh, sorry Pinky,” she said. “It’s
not necessary to raise your hand.”

“It’s not?” Pinky shot a hesitant
look at Portia. “Whenever we have meetings here, we always…” She paused,
swallowed and then gulped in a deep breath. “Festival rules and all, you know?”

Dina frowned. “This isn’t about the
festival,” she said. “This is about what happened to Lacy.”

Pinky nodded. “Of course, I
understand.” She swayed nervously in her chair. “I found Lacy on the floor
after she fainted or whatever. I’d gone to the little girls’ room before the
meeting started. And I was walking back down the hallway when I heard someone
choking in the room with all the food before there was a really loud thud.”

“See?” Portia said dismissively.
“She fainted.”

I shook my head. “I’ve seen someone
faint before, Portia. I don’t believe that’s what happened here.”

Luigi put down his glass of wine.
“I agree, Katie. In my career, running restaurants and working as a bartender,
I’ve seen many, many people faint. For the vast majority, the episodes only
lasted a matter of seconds. Before we moved to Crescent Creek, one of my best
customers in Phoenix was a doctor. He told me that the reason someone faints is
the brain isn’t getting enough oxygen and you lose consciousness for a very
short amount of time.”

“And that’s not what happened with
Lacy,” I said. “When we all rushed in there, she was still unconscious.”

“Maybe she was overwhelmed with the
pressure of being a judge,” Portia suggested.

Luigi jeered at the remark. “Oh,
that’s ridiculous! Lacy works as a loan officer in a bank. Can you imagine how many
times she’s had to give someone the bad news that their application wasn’t
being approved?”

Portia wrinkled her nose. “I have
no idea, Chef Benedetto. And that’s not even my point. I was simply saying
that—”

“I’m sorry to cut you off,” Dina
said. “But I’d like to keep our conversation focused on what happened here this
afternoon, not what Lacy did for a living.”

“I beg your pardon, detective!”
Portia rasped in a haughty, high-pitched voice. “But
you
are a guest in
my
store, and I—”

“No, Mrs. Pearson,” Dina said
firmly. “I am a
detective
in your store, conducting an investigation as
part of official police business. I suggest we all take a moment to collect our
thoughts so no one says anything they might later regret.”

“Too late for that,” I muttered under
my breath.

Portia swiveled in her chair. “
What
was that, Kate?”

“Nothing relevant,” I said. “But I
do agree with Dina; we should focus on whatever happened to our friend this
afternoon.”

Pinky nodded in agreement. “Katie’s
right. And I think it’s pretty clear that Lacy fainted.”

“No, no,
no!
” Luigi said in
his booming voice. “My friend Dr. Malick in Arizona made it crystal clear about
fainting, and this was not the case with Miss Orvane.”

Dina pushed back from the table.
“Actually, none of us can be certain about what happened to Lacy,” she said,
getting to her feet. “Until the doctors at County Regional have fully assessed
her condition, I want to make sure we cover all the bases here at the scene of
the incident.”

Portia snorted. “I’d like to know
when I can get back to business. I have a festival to organize. And a store to
run.”

Dina nodded slightly. “I can
appreciate that, Mrs. Pearson. But I, too, have business to conduct.” She
paused briefly, opened the pad on the table and scanned the entries she’d
written earlier. Then she looked up and fixed her gaze on Portia. “One of our
officers found a note threatening Miss Orvane’s life. And one of the paramedics
believes that Lacy’s clammy skin, breathing difficulty and other symptoms
indicate that she ingested a noxious substance shortly before she collapsed.”

Pinky Newton gasped loudly. “Does
that mean that she was…” Her voice withered into silence as one hand covered
her mouth.

“Yes, I’m afraid it does,” Dina
said. “Based on the symptoms and the paramedic’s initial appraisal, it appears
that Lacy Orvane was poisoned here this afternoon.”

“And there was a note?” asked
Portia.

Dina nodded. “Yes, a note
threatening her life. And it was written on stationery from your store, Mrs.
Pearson.”

CHAPTER
7

The shriek that erupted from
Portia’s mouth after Dina delivered the bombshell made everyone around the
table cringe and cover their ears.

“Are you
accusing
me of
something?” she screamed. “Do you think I was
involved
in whatever
happened to Lacy?”

During her years with the Crescent
Creek Police Department, Dina had handled a wide array of angry, belligerent
and impolite people. I knew the sudden outburst would be far from a challenge,
so I sat back in my chair, crossed my arms and waited.

“Why would I invite her to be a
judge for my festival?” Portia demanded. “Why would I poison her with so many
witnesses around?” Her voice had steadily increased in volume; she was now
shouting and her face had flushed from pale pink to a deep, angry crimson. “And
the stationery? I keep it in a tray that’s in clear view on my desk, detective.
Anyone visiting the store—customers, friends, delivery men, sales reps from our
vendors—any of them could simply take a few sheets when I’m busy on the
showroom floor.”

Dina took a long, slow breath. Then
she smiled, tilted her head slightly to one side and said Portia’s name with
the gentle, soothing tone of a parent dealing with an enraged toddler. I
expected the eruption to continue, but Portia simply glowered at the detective.

“Yes?” she said eventually. “What
is it Detective Kincaid?”

“I’m not accusing
anyone
of
anything
,”
Dina said calmly. “I just wanted to make you aware that what may turn out to be
a key piece of evidence was written on your letterhead.”

Portia stayed silent, clenching her
teeth and glaring furiously at Dina. Everyone in town knew she had a temper.
And many local residents had been the object of her anger. But I’d never seen
Portia’s face quite as red, her fists quite as knotted or her eyes burn quite
as brightly with rage. I was staring so intently at Portia that I nearly jumped
from my chair when Luigi gently asked Dina an obvious question.

“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
he said. “Can you tell who made such a horrible threat against such a wonderful
person?”

Dina shook her head. “It didn’t
look familiar to me,” she answered. “But our forensics team will analyze the
note along with all of the other evidence we’ve collected.”

When she stopped and looked around
the table, I asked Dina to tell us about the note found in Lacy’s hand. “You
mentioned that it was a threat,” I said. “What did it say exactly?”

Dina glanced across the table. “It
said her life was at risk if she didn’t, and I quote, ‘end it with your married
lover.’ And then it said something very intriguing: ‘A pure hand needs no glove
to cover it.’”

Portia snorted. “What? Who talks
about gloves when they’re poisoning someone?”

I smiled at Dina and she nodded.
“Actually,” I said, “it’s a quote from
The Scarlet Letter
. That’s the
famous novel about a woman who—”

“I
know
what it’s about,
Kate!” Portia fumed. “A foolish girl named Heather who commits adultery. And I
get it, okay? Everybody in town knows that Lacy’s been knocking boots with a
married man, although she’s done a very good job of keeping his identity a
secret.”

When she finished—eyes blazing,
cheeks aflame and lips stitched into a tight frown, I calmly informed her that
the main character in
The Scarlet Letter
was
Hester
, not Heather.

“Are you being
serious
right
now?” she demanded in a shrill squeak. “Who gives a rat’s rump about…” She
stopped, pointed at me with one lacquered nail and grumbled. “I’m upset about
Lacy, not some stupid book. And I don’t care if the girl in the story was
Hester, Heather or Hula Hoop!”

Dina was getting ready to say something
when her phone buzzed. She looked down and I saw the expression on her face
change from methodical and focused to absolute sadness.

“Detective?” Portia’s voice was
softer and her expression less aggressive. “We planned to taste all of the
desserts and snacks this afternoon, but that’s obviously not going to happen.
Could you tell us how much longer you need to keep us?”

Everyone at the table sat silently
in their chairs. Luigi wiped his forehead with a pale yellow handkerchief.
Becca and Harley looked like mute statues, their posture crisp and their faces
blank. Pinky twirled an unsharpened pencil on the tabletop, idly staring as the
slender utensil blurred into a shimmering red sphere. And Yvonne sat patiently
smoothing wrinkles from one sleeve of her blouse.

“Yes,” Luigi said after a few
hushed moments. “My restaurant needs me, Miss Detective.”

Dina looked up and slowly moved her
gaze from one face to the next. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you of this,” she
said, “but our friend Lacy Orvane died at the hospital about ten minutes ago.”