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

CHAPTER
12

An hour later, as I watched
Abigail’s chauffeur-driven Escalade begin its return trip to Aspen, I heard
Julia laughing as she joined me on the front porch.

“Well,
that
wasn’t what I
expected!”

I raised my eyebrows. “She’s quite
something, isn’t she? Independent and opinionated, but still a child at heart.”

Julia’s soft chuckle turned into a
full-throated howl. “A child? C’mon, Katie! That was no child. That was a
world-weary Hollywood starlet about ten minutes before she becomes the flavor
of the month.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Julia said, “when you
ducked out to take a call, Abigail confessed that she’d just landed a part in
Spielberg’s next movie.”

“No kidding! That’s amazing!”

“And impressive,” Julia agreed.
“But I get the sense she’s a really lonely little girl. Her parents travel
constantly. Her brother treats her terribly. And she lives with a tutor, two
housekeepers and somebody named Esméralda, who sounds like a cross between
Attila the Hun and Mary Poppins.”

“That’s one of Brendan Ascot’s personal
assistants,” I said. “Although I don’t disagree with your description;
Esméralda sounds like the five-letter word that rhymes with—”

“And what the heck is mamey sapote?
I heard you guys talking after Abigail said she’d changed her mind.”

“Apparently, Abigail decided that
apple, cherry and blueberry are too pedestrian for Mr. and Mrs. Ascot’s wedding
anniversary.”

“What does she want instead?”

“Papaya, passion fruit meringue and
mamey sapote.”

Julia shook her head. “I need a
martini. But I’ll settle for a cappuccino. You want to come inside and tell me
what the heck that is?”

“You bet!”

While we climbed the front steps
and went inside, Julia peppered me with more questions about Abigail Ascot. She
wanted to know if the bubbly young girl had mentioned anything about her
father’s affairs with an actress named Judy, a singer named Trixie and a
broadcaster named Alana.

“The woman that used to be on CNN?”

“Yep. She’s on another channel
now,” Julia said. “But before she switched, she and Brendan Ascot supposedly
had a wicked hot affair when they were at the Olympics in China.”

“You don’t say.”

Julia smirked. “Yes, I do say.
Because I read it in
People
, so it must be true.”

After she divulged more Hollywood
gossip and I made two frothy cappuccinos speckled with nutmeg and cinnamon, we
went into the kitchen. One or two lunch customers were still in the dining
room, lingering over coffee and dessert, so Julia needed to be on duty in case
any last minute orders came in during the final minutes before we closed.

“Okay,” she said, pulling out a
stool and inhaling the fragrant steam from her cup. “What’s the scoop on mamey
sapote?”

I sat beside her and sipped my
cappuccino. “Well, Abigail told me a long story about a trip she took to Miami
last year with her family. While they were in Florida, they had mamey sapote
smoothies and marmalade. Her mother loved it so much, the hotel’s chef made a
pie with it. And, long story short, that’s part of the reason Abigail decided
to switch from the more traditional fruit pies to the three new flavors.”

Julia nodded. “Okay, but that
doesn’t tell me about mamey sapote.”

“Oh,” I said. “You were asking
about the fruit itself?”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Exactly,
Katie. I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Sorry, Jules. It’s pretty simple
really. Mamey sapote is a large evergreen tree that produces berries known by
the same name. On the outside, they’re brown and sort of scratchy, like
something between peach fuzz and sandpaper. When you cut open the berries, the
flesh is usually orange, red or pink, and it tastes like a combination of
cherry, almond, honey, peach and sweet potato.”

Julia contemplated the description
as she drank more of her cappuccino. Then she said, “And we can just stroll
down to Food Town and buy some?”

Between the expression on her face
and the lilting sound of her voice, I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, smarty
pants! I’ll place a special order with one of our vendors in Denver. I’ll make
sure they arrive in plenty of time to ripen properly so we can make a mamey sapote
fruit pie topped with a lattice of raspberry jam swirls and coconut.”

Julia frowned. “Oooh! That
sounds…well, it doesn’t sound very good to me. But if it’s what Little Miss
Hollywood wants, then it’s what Little Miss Hollywood gets!”

CHAPTER
13

I’d just locked the front door of
Sky High Pies when my phone rang a few minutes after three. A quick glance at
the screen told me it was Dina Kincaid, calling from her office at the Crescent
Creek PD.

“Detective?”

“Hi, Katie. How are you?”

“I’ll be better when the prep work
for tomorrow is done and I can catch up on the bookkeeping. How are things
going with the Lacy Orvane case?”

“That’s what I was calling about,”
Dina answered. “I was wondering if you’d thought about the incident since we
talked earlier. I mean, you were at the meeting and you know how we investigate
a suspicious death, so I’d appreciate your views on the situation.”

“You’re treating it as suspicious?”

“Very,” Dina said. “The initial
toxicology report shows incredibly high levels of cicutoxin.”

I’d never heard the name before, so
I asked for an explanation.

“It’s nasty stuff, Katie. Cicutoxin
is potent, highly noxious and found in a variety of plants. The most common one
is water hemlock.”

“And that’s what killed Lacy?”

“According to the preliminary
autopsy results and tox screens,” Dina said. “The medical examiner was pretty
certain, but we’re running more tests to make a definitive conclusion. We’ll
have those reports in a few days.”

I closed my eyes and pictured
Lacy’s gorgeous smile, the way her bangs were forever falling into her eyes and
the tiny curved scar on her chin from a childhood ice skating accident.

“You still there, Katie?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just…” I
banished the thoughts of Lacy and opened my eyes. “Do we know how she was
poisoned?”

“Chocolate-dipped strawberry,” Dina
answered. “It was loaded with the stuff, probably injected with a syringe.”

“What was the name of the poison
again?”

“Cicutoxin,” Dina said. “From water
hemlock plants; they grow in marshy areas, near lakes, streams, farm ponds,
that sort of thing. I know you were still in Chicago early last year, but there
was a very sad case that got a ton of local publicity. A family was at
Horsetooth Reservoir up near Fort Collins. Their little pooch chewed on some
water hemlock and died within three or four hours.”

“Just like Lacy.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay,” I said. “How can I help?”

“Well, I’m starting with the food
festival judges at the meeting,” Dina said. “Do you know if anyone had a bone
to pick with Lacy?”

I thought about the group from the
previous afternoon: Portia, Becca, Pinky, Luigi, Harley, Daphne and Yvonne. As
far as I knew, everyone loved Lacy and the feeling was mutual. She was a sweet,
thoughtful and charming woman, the kind of friend who remembered every birthday
and anniversary. She sent greeting cards, baked delicious cakes and always
called whenever someone was going through a rough patch.

When I told Dina that I couldn’t
think of any bad blood amongst the judges, she widened the net. “How about
anyone in the community?” she said. “Do you think her work as a loan officer at
the bank might have something to do with it?”

“Anything’s possible. I’ve never
heard her mention contentious customers, but I would imagine she’s declined a
loan application or two along the way. Have you talked to Suzanne Craig? She’s
still working part-time at the bank as her husband’s assistant.”

“I plan to ask her about it,” Dina
said, “but she’s out of town for a couple of days.”

“She is?”

“According to the assistant branch
manager, Suzanne left on a business trip two nights ago and she’s due to return
tomorrow.”

“I’d heard the same thing, but Zack
swears he saw her in town yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, I think…” I paused, trying
to remember Zack’s exact words. “You know what? Why don’t I ask him later? If
it sounds like it’ll be helpful, I’ll call you right away.”

“Sounds like a plan, Katie. I
appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure,” I said. “Lacy was a
good friend. I’m going to miss her.”

“You and everyone else in town,”
Dina agreed.

CHAPTER
14

The pile of unpaid invoices on my
desk looked as appetizing as a stale strawberry cupcake slathered with
liverwurst-flavored frosting. As I stared at the collection of bills, wishing
magical powers were real and the pencil in my hand was a wand, the phone rang
and
Pinky Newton Home
appeared on the screen.

“Katie?” she said in a faint voice
after I answered. “It’s Pinky.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Our lives are in jeopardy,” she said.
“I just heard a rumor, Katie. All of the food that we were supposed to taste
yesterday was poisoned, not just the strawberries that Lacy ate.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

She answered with a few hushed
words that were so faint it sounded like bees buzzing on the other end. When I
asked her to repeat them, she said it would be best if we talked in person.

“Do you want to come over here?” I
asked. “We can sit down with a slice of pie and some coffee.”

“Have you seen my thighs lately?”
she said, no longer whispering. “They’re a mile wide and jiggly as Aunt
Tinker’s Sunshine Salad.”

I smiled at the image. I’d seen the
side dish enough times to know that Pinky’s thighs didn’t jiggle as much as her
aunt’s much-loved carrot, pineapple and gelatin concoction.

“You look great, Pinky. But if you
want to skip the pie, we can just have a cup of coffee.”

She whispered another reply. When I
asked her to repeat it, she sighed and said, “Just give me a sec, okay? I’ll
slip into the powder room. I’ll be able to talk more freely there. I’ve got a
gazillion things to do this afternoon, so I probably shouldn’t be driving all
over the planet.”

I listened to her footsteps and the
sound of a door opening and closing. Then she repeated the bombshell she’d
delivered a few moments before.

“All of them, Katie,” she added.
“Every last entry for Decadent Desserts and Sassy Snacks had been tainted with
some kind of toxic substance.”

“Cicutoxin,” I said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the name of the poison that
Lacy ingested. I talked to Detective Kincaid earlier.”

“Okay,” Pinky said. “But my source
didn’t tell me the scientific name; they just said it was poison.”

“Who was your source?”

She scoffed. “Do I ask you to
reveal the secret ingredients in your recipes?”

“That’s different,” I answered.
“We’re talking about a murder, Pinky. And, potentially, any of us could’ve
sampled one of those contest entries ahead of the official tasting.”

“Well, we’re not supposed to,” she
said sharply. “Rules are rules! Lacy Orvane ignored that little fact and look
what it got her.”

“But that was common knowledge,
right? According to Portia’s comments, Lacy was notorious for sneaking a sample
or two ahead of time. It was also her job to organize and inventory the
competition entries, so she was alone in the room for a good hour or so with
the samples. Since everyone in town knew that she was especially fond of
chocolate-dipped strawberries, I suspect that the person who did this probably
counted on her to eat at least one. But then they dosed the other desserts and
snacks just in case.”

“Oh, what does Portia Pearson know?
That witch is always so busy being high and mighty that she’s as clueless as a
clump of dirt.”

I quickly considered a short list
of people that knew Pinky and also had knowledge of the police investigation.
There was Dina Kincaid, although she’d never reveal inside information to
anyone but her coworkers and a small group of trusted confidants. Amanda
Crane’s sister was a frequent customer at Pinky’s flower shop. Since Amanda had
been one of the uniformed officers on the scene shortly after Lacy was
discovered, there was a slim chance she’d told her sister. And it was possible
that Nelson Branch from the morgue, someone who played poker with Pinky’s
brother, could have divulged the information. I was thinking about which of the
three might possibly be Pinky’s source when I heard her whispering again.

“What was that?”

“Have you talked to Trent?” she
asked. “What’s he say about all of this?”

“Deputy Chief Walsh is in Evans
representing the Crescent Creek PD for a CACP meeting.”

“A
what
meeting?” Pinky
asked. “That all sounded like alphabet soup!”

“It’s the Colorado Association of
Chiefs of Police. Trent’s involved in a planning committee for their next
annual conference, so he isn’t even in town at the moment.”

“But surely he’s privy to what his
team is working on,” she said.

“I would imagine so,” I agreed.
“But I haven’t talked to him in a few days. Dina mentioned that he’s out of
town when we were at Portia’s yesterday.”

“When somebody tried to kill us
all!” Pinky gasped. “We could be dead right now, Katie! Do you realize that? If
we’d started nibbling on those desserts and snacks, we’d be standing outside
the Pearly Gates trying to explain to St. Peter why the heck somebody would
want to murder us in cold blood!”

I waited until she finished the
rant. Then I asked her to take a deep breath and count to ten.

“What for?” she demanded. “That’s
not going to bring Lacy back! And it sure won’t—”

“Pinky!”

She sniffled. Then she said,
“Sorry, Katie. I think I’m losing it.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie. This is
a very difficult situation for all of us. Our friend is gone. And her death
wasn’t an accident. Someone deliberately poisoned those strawberries to—”

“It was
all
of them!” she blurted.
“Every last dessert and snack on that table had been turned into a murder
weapon.”

“Okay, if that’s what your friend
told you. I haven’t heard that yet.”

“He’s not my friend, Katie. He’s a
customer and—” She muttered something that Nana Reed would describe as “no-no
language” before continuing. “You tricked me into telling you that, didn’t
you?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I just
figured that it must be someone you’re friendly with.”

She heaved another sigh. “If I tell
you,” she whispered, “do you promise not to say a word?”

“Cross my heart,” I said. “Who told
you about the desserts and snacks being poisoned?”

“Nathaniel Craig.”

“Suzanne’s husband?”

“Well, did I stutter, Katie? Yes,
Suzanne’s husband. Someone told him and he told me.”

“I didn’t realize you and he were
such good friends.”

She groaned scornfully. “We’re
not
friends! Nathaniel Craig calls the shop once each week to buy a dozen roses. If
things weren’t so tight, I wouldn’t even do business with the man. But it’s a
standing order; same flowers, same day of the week, same delivery address.” She
paused to snicker. “It’s not
their
address, but running a flower shop
can be a lot like being an attorney or a doctor.”

“How so?”

“You know,” she said.
“Client-patient privacy or whatever it’s called. It’s none of my business who
people send flowers to.”

“Okay, Pinky. I’ll take the bait.
Who was Nathaniel Craig sending flowers to?”

She gasped. “Client-patient
privacy, Katie! I can’t tell you that.”

“What if I try and guess?” I said.
“Will you tell me if I’m right?”

“I suppose so…”

I was getting ready to say one
name, but another suddenly flew from my mouth.

“Lacy Orvane,” I blurted. “Is that
it?”

Pinky gasped again. “How did you
know?”

“I was just speculating. Is that
really who he sends roses to every week?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Pinky?”

“I feel sick to my stomach, Katie. Like
I just violated an oath or something.”

I laughed and told her she’d done
nothing of the sort. Then I said, “Okay, let’s get back to the desserts being
poisoned. Nathaniel Craig called and told you that—”

“Actually,” she cut in, “I usually
talk to him, but didn’t today. I was in the powder room when he phoned. My
sister’s helping me out a few hours a week while I look for a new employee. She
took his call and they got to talking about Lacy. At first, Barb said he didn’t
seem all that interested in having a conversation about what happened. But then
he suddenly announced that all of the desserts and snacks had been poisoned
with—”

“Cicutoxin?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll stick with
calling it poison.”

“And that’s what Nathaniel Craig
told your sister?”

“Well, for Pete’s sake! Are your
ears clogged or something? I just told you that he was the one. Do you think he
killed Lacy?”

“I’m just trying to get the facts
straight, Pinky. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

She didn’t say anything for a few
seconds. Then she giggled softly. And then she apologized again for being
brusque.

“Pinky?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t we already cover that?” I
said. “There’s no need for you to say that you’re sorry. We’re all upset about
what happened to Lacy. And we want the person responsible to be arrested and
put behind bars as soon as possible.”

“Amen to that, Katie!” she said.
“Amen to that!”