by Mary Maxwell
Katie: This came for Ken in the mail. Can you please see that it gets to Dina? I called her about it earlier. Thanks! Grace
I carefully removed the small yellow square, lifted the blue card for a closer view and felt a prickle of dread when I saw the words scrawled on the paper in black crayon:
Ken: Before you and the other three eat the sweets, riddle me this: What is the ending to all that begins?
I’d seen the brainteaser before, and I knew that there was only one answer: Death.
CHAPTER 15
“Did Patty really say that?” Dina asked a half hour later when I called her after leaving Ken’s office. “People think there’s a hit list with forty-two names?”
“Some people,” I said. “But you know how this town is; rumors go from tiny sparks to wildfires in less than a minute.”
“Or from cupcakes to corn dogs,” she grumbled. “What is wrong with people? If I knew who leaked the information about strychnine, I swear that I would—”
“Slow down, sister,” I interrupted. “You don’t need to waste energy on that nonsense right now. We should stay focused on the case.”
“But I’m talking about the case, Katie. I’m talking about finding out who at the CCPD had the gall to reveal classified details about a crime scene to a bunch of rumormongers with nothing better to do than spin facts into fantasy.”
“Maybe the leak wasn’t intentional,” I said. “Maybe someone overheard the case being discussed outside of the station.”
The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then Dina roared back to life, asking for a update on my conversation with Grace Santiago and the blue note card that Ken had received in the mail. When I finished, I expected another explosion. Instead, she sounded calmer and less distracted.
“I’m going to take your advice, Katie,” she said. “I’m going to keep my efforts focused on the Strychnine Stalker.”
“You, too?” I said.
“You have to admit,” Dina replied. “It’s a catchy tag.”
“Catchy, yes,” I said. “But won’t it just keep everyone in town on edge if they believe a serial killer is out there somewhere.”
“It’s hard to predict,” she told me. “At this point, we can’t put out a press release stating that there is no serial killer. We can’t deny the possibility of a hit list or refute the idea that someone is using corn dogs laced with strychnine. Because if we do that, they’ll come up with another oddball theory. Maybe the list will double in size. Maybe they’ll claim that the perp is using Little Debbie cakes filled with arsenic. Do you see my point?”
“Sure,” I said. “And I’m in full agreement. The only thing to do now is follow all the leads that turn up, find a suspect as fast as possible and identify the motive.”
“Easier said than done,” Dina replied. “But we’ve both faced tough odds before.”
I laughed softly. “Like getting into my jeans this morning. The odds were not in my favor, but I was victorious in the end.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “You’re one of the most stubborn and industrious women that I’ve ever met.”
“Uh…thank you?” I hesitated for a moment. “I mean, I think it was a compliment.”
“Moving on,” Dina said with a soft laugh. “How did it go with Grace Santiago?”
“We had a brief chat,” I said. “She had to run out for a minute, and by the time she returned to the office there was a client conference call coming up.”
“I thought your text earlier said that she’d agreed to meet with you,” Dina said.
“It did,” I told her. “And she did. But things have been pretty chaotic there with Ken out of the office.”
“Okay, I’m not going to comment on that,” she said. “I’m beginning to suspect that I’m just in a really foul mood today.”
“It happens,” I said.
“All the time,” she replied. “But I’ll feel much, much better when we figure out who killed Amelia and tried to kill Ken.”
“Everyone will,” I agreed. “I’ll stop by on my way home and give you the envelope from Grace. What’s next on your schedule?”
As Dina ran through a list of appointments and witness interviews, the name that I’d first heard from Patty Fletcher bounced around into my mind: The Strychnine Stalker. And then two more followed: Amelia Felton and Ken Ballard. We knew about the connection between Amelia and Ken. But did they know the killer? Was the link personal or professional? And how long would it take before we answered all of the questions and had a suspect in custody?
“Did the card at Ken’s office mention three other people?” asked Dina.
“Yes, it did,” I said. “And that means we have two more possible victims out there somewhere. Unless the killer is truly twisted and evil.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“What if the rumors are true?” I said. “What if it really is forty-two targets instead of four?”
CHAPTER 16
There was a message taped to the office door at Sky High Pies when I returned that afternoon at half past three. It was written on a piece of butcher paper and fastened to the knob with masking tape.
“Oh, great!” someone said from the far end of the hallway. “I was wondering if you found that note yet.”
I turned my head. Harper was heading my way with a stack of menus in her hand and a pencil tucked behind one ear.
“Did you leave this for me?” I asked.
“Sorry about the old school approach,” she said. “We were in the weeds for about fifteen minutes while you were gone. Butcher paper was the only thing that I could find when the call came in.”
I glanced at the message scrawled on the heavy brown paper. It looked like hieroglyphics from ancient Egypt.
“Can you interpret that for me?” I asked.
Harper offered a comical sneer. “What? Is my writing really that bad?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “It’s lovely. But the sound of your voice is even more exquisite.”
She glared at me. Then she flicked one finger against the note. “Dina called,” she said. “It’s urgent. Something about a ticking time bomb.”
The message didn’t make any sense, but I had no doubt that Harper had recorded it accurately. I also suspected that something significant had happened in the short period of time since my last conversation with the CCPD detective.
“Gotta go,” Harper said. “We have two more tables for pie and coffee.”
“Do you want me to help?” I asked.
She pointed at the message again. “Call her back. She sounded pretty pumped.”
Hoping to hear good news for a change, I dialed Dina’s cell phone. When it went immediately to voicemail, I tried the office number.
“Well, there you are!” she said cheerfully. “I was afraid that Harper forgot to tell you that I called.”
“I have your message right here,” I said. “And from the sound of your voice, it’s good news.”
“It’s definitely good news,” she replied. “But first, I had one more favor.”
“Fire away,” I said.
“Would you be willing to talk to Rita McGuire?” Dina asked. “She worked as Ken’s assistant for years before taking early retirement a few days after Amelia got fired. I thought that she might have some insight into the professional relationship between Ken and Amelia.”
“And possibly the personal one, too,” I said.
“Sure,” Dina agreed “That’s true. She’s working part-time at Pepper & Roni’s these days, so you can probably find her there pretty easily.”
“I can drop by and see what she has to tell us,” I said. “Now, what was the good news you had to share?”
“Two more boxes of possibly tainted cupcakes turned up after you left my office earlier,” Dina replied.
I felt my stomach twist slightly. “And what about the recipients?”
“They’re both fine,” Dina answered. “It was Drew Vitale and Pamela Lipton. They were ou
t of town for the past few days, but heard the news about Amelia and made the connection to the anonymous deliveries waiting in their offices this morning. We’ve already picked them up and sent them to the lab.”
“Well, that is good news,” I said. “Two more people who will be going home at the end of the day.”
“The packages were identical to the one in Ken Ballard’s office,” Dina told me. “Four cupcakes, a QuikFlash Couriers delivery ticket and the sketchy poem about the game of chance. It’s too soon to know if one of the treats was laced with strychnine, but the lab techs will answer that question soon enough.”
“What’s their connection to Amelia?”
Dina cleared her throat delicately. “Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Am I?”
“Amelia and Drew were once engaged to be married,” Dina began. “It was during the time that you lived out of state, and not many people knew about the relationship.”
“Okay, so that explains his connection to Amelia,” I said. “What about Pamela?”
“She’d just agreed to marry Drew,” Dina said. “The other little detail is that Mr. Vitale had recently consulted with his attorney to update his will. He was replacing Amelia as the beneficiary on his life insurance policy with his new bride-to-be.”
“Which makes perfect sense,” I said. “But it doesn’t exactly clarify why they both received the poisoned cupcakes.”
“Very true,” Dina said. “And that’s what we need to figure out next. We’ve got Amelia Felton in the morgue, Ken Ballard in the hospital and two more boxes of meringue cupcakes in the evidence locker here at the station. Beyond that, we have a seemingly endless series of unanswered questions.”
“I can think of at least one that we don’t need to worry about,” I said.
“I’m listening,” Dina replied.
“Drew and Pamela will most definitely not want meringue anything for their wedding reception,” I said, hoping to soften the mood with a lighthearted remark.
Unfortunately, Dina wasn’t in the mood for levity. Instead of replying to my quip, she heaved a sigh, suggested that I ditch the dark humor and hung up the phone before I could say a word in my defense.
CHAPTER 17
Harper came into the Sky High office the next morning with a white porcelain mug in one hand and a box from Daylite Donuts in the other.
“Andy Truman dropped these off for you,” she said, gently placing the sugary gems and steaming mug on the desk. “And I thought you might like a refresh on the java.”
“Really?” I leaned down and inhaled the aroma of the donuts. “That’s so nice of Andy. Did you and Julia help yourself already?”
She smiled. “He actually brought a box for each of us. If he does it again, my marriage may be in trouble. I love Bobby with all my heart, but he cannot make a glazed donut that melts in your mouth and sends you over the moon.”
“Well, that’s true. But think of all the amazing things that Bobby can do for you.”
She mulled over the remark. Then she said it was fifty-fifty. And then she told me that my sister was waiting to talk to me.
“She is?” My eyes darted to the blinking light on the desk phone. “Has she been on hold very long?”
“Nope,” Harper said. “And it wouldn’t matter if she had. Olivia’s the least fussy member of the Reed clan.”
Before I could share my thoughts on the subject, she was gone. I took another quick whiff of the sugary bliss radiating from the box of donuts. Then I picked up the phone and greeted my sister with a cheerful version of the tune that Nana Reed sang when we were children.
“Seriously, Katie?” Olivia sounded peeved. “Singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ on a day like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just heard the news about Amelia Felton,” my sister huffed. “Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to hear it just now from Russ McIntosh?”
My sister and Russ had dated for thirty seconds during their junior year in high school. The romance started with a chaste peck on the cheek and a double feature at the Tivoli Cinema in Briarfield. It ended three weeks later when Russ announced that my sister was an intellectual and a prude.
“Are you going to answer me?” Olivia snapped.
“I left a message for you,” I said.
“No, you didn’t. I checked four times!”
“Not on your voicemail,” I said. “I called the night that Dina told me about Amelia. One of the boys picked up because you were in the shower.”
“You did?”
“I absolutely did. Check your call log.”
“Okay, sure…” She suddenly sounded less hostile and more confused. “But which twin did you talk to?”
“Oh, shoot,” I said. “I was afraid you were going to start in with the difficult questions. They both sound really similar on the phone.”
“I guess that doesn’t matter,” she said. “Russ was just making sure that everyone from school heard the news.”
“Did he tell you any details?” I asked.
“About how she died?”
“Right. Any specifics?”
“He said that it was poison ivy,” my sister replied. “Or maybe food poisoning? He was sobbing pretty badly when he got to that point.”
I tried to imagine Russ McIntosh crying, but he seemed like the kind of guy who skewed more toward silent and sappy instead of sensitive and tender.
“It was poison,” I said. “Strychnine.”
Olivia gasped. “That’s awful! How? Was it intentional? I mean, did someone actually kill her?”
“Dina and Tyler Armstrong are still working on that,” I said. “I know a couple of things, but really should wait until the case is a little more solidified.”
“You can trust me,” my sister said.
“I know that, but I don’t really have much information,” I said. “It’s like a lot of investigations; fluid and evolving, with more questions than answers at this point.”
“I just can’t believe that she’s gone,” my sister murmured. “It’s such a sad, sad thing. Who would want to hurt someone like Amelia?”
“We don’t know yet,” I said. “Someone was giving her a lift to choir practice, but Amelia didn’t answer the bell. When her friend peeked in the window, she saw her on the floor. By the time the ambulance got there and they broke down the door, Amelia was gone.”
“Do you mean that she was alive when her friend saw her?”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. The medical examiner’s report gave the time of death at around two or three hours before then.”
“It’s just…” She stopped for a breath. “I mean, we haven’t been close for a long time, but I still love Amelia. She and I were such good friends when we were younger.”
“I know,” I said. “I remember being pretty jealous a few times. It was like my sister had a new sister, but from a different family.”
“Don’t be silly,” Olivia said. “She was a friend, not a sister.”
“Well, I know that. I’m just telling you how I viewed it back then.”
“Did you see her?” she asked.
“Amelia?”
“I mean, did you...” Her voice cracked. “Did you see her before they took her away?”
“You mean her body?”
Olivia groaned. I’d memorized her nonverbal menu when we were kids, so I knew that she was growing impatient with my follow-up questions.
“I heard about it that night from Dina,” I said. “She also asked me to do some consulting on the case.”
“Like what?”
“Just some canvassing,” I said. “Maybe a few interviews.”
“That makes sense. You’ve done it before for them.”
“A few times,” I said.
“So? Do you have any good leads? Any suspects?”
“Yes,” I said. “And no. But I can’t really get into that information at this point.”
She sighed.
“Do you have the funeral details yet?”
“It’s too soon for that, too,” I replied. “You know the drill; we have no idea when the body will be released, so it’s nearly impossible to plan the funeral.”
“I hate that,” she said. “It’s unfair to the family.”
“But the police need—”
“I know, Katie. I still think it’s unfair. They should work faster. Do more. Bring in more people.”
“This is Crescent Creek,” I said. “Not New York City.”
She said something so quietly that I missed everything but the last two words.
“You curse like a sailor sometimes,” I said.
Her response was even more colorful.
“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you go make a cup of chamomile tea and put your feet up?”
“I’m on my second cup now,” she said. “And I’m soaking in the tub. I told the office that I’d be working from home today.”
Holy smokes, I thought. Two cups of tea and a bubble bath and she still sounds like a spring that could snap at any second.
“If this doesn’t get my pulse back to normal,” she added, “I’m going for a run and then a vodka tonic.”
“Careful there, sis,” I said. “Drinking and jogging might not mix.”
She giggled. “Oh, thank you! I needed to hear you say something totally stupid. Maybe that’ll help me relax before Cooper and the boys get home later.”
CHAPTER 18
I was reviewing the final ingredients for a batch of cookies that afternoon when Abigail Felton lurched through the back door and into the Sky High kitchen.
“I need to talk to you!” she called. “Is it true that you’re telling people that my brother and sister were both filing for bankruptcy?”
I shot a quick glance at Julia. She was standing in front of the grill working on a rush carryout order for Mayor Washington. The crafty grin on her face left me wishing that I’d accepted her suggestion to leave a half hour earlier to take the deposit to the bank.