Murder by Meringue (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 25)

by Mary Maxwell

  “This was while you were out here on the sidewalk?”

  Ward smiled. “Talking to my wife,” he said. “She was reeling off the shopping list of stuff that I’m supposed to buy on my way back to the office.” He laughed, causing his ample belly to shudder and shake. “I know the first item was toilet paper, but I can’t remember anything after that. When I realized there was some kind of disturbance going on in there, I told Annie that I’d call her back.”

  “What did you see when you went inside?” I asked.

  He frowned and shook his head. “Bunch of papers everywhere, a couple chairs overturned. It looked like the guy went all raging bull when they denied his request. Like I already told you, I didn’t see most of it, but there was plenty of evidence all around that made it look like a tornado had just blasted through the place.”

  “Do you know the name of the dispatch operator?” I said.

  He shook his head. “Not a clue, but she’s on the short side with curly gray hair and glasses. You’ll see her right near the door if you go on in. Her desk is the first one on the left.”

  “Well, I think maybe I’ll do that,” I said. “Thank you for filling me in on all the excitement.”

  He chuckled. “You want some more later,” he said, “come on over and listen to Annie give me the what for after I show up without all the groceries.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The atmosphere inside QuikFlash was tense and hushed. I discovered immediately that Ward’s description was accurate: papers, envelopes, file folders and furniture were strewn across the main room. A small cluster of employees stood around a desk at the back. When she heard the door open, Francine Hutton whirled away from the group and hurried toward me. She’d hired Amelia to serve as the company’s bookkeeper after she left Ken Ballard’s company.

  “What a pleasant surprise!” she called, zigzagging through a field of scattered envelopes and files. “Did you have a delivery for us?”

  “Not today,” I said. “I was stopping by to talk about Amelia, but I also have a few questions about her brother now. I just ran into Ward Murphy. He told me that Hugh was here a few minutes ago.”

  “That nut!” Francine shuddered. “I’ve always heard he was a little odd, but the performance he just gave was truly unhinged. He had this wackadoodle idea that everything his sister owned became his property the minute she passed away.”

  “I hope that no one was hurt,” I said, motioning toward the scattered furniture and paperwork.

  “Just my Precious Moments figurine,” she said with a woeful frown. “It was by the phone. When Hugh went to pick up the receiver and call the bank, he knocked it clean off the edge of the desk.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Which one was it?”

  “The bride and groom by a little fence,” she said. “She’s wearing cowboy boots, and he’s got a wide-brimmed hat. I just swept up the mess a second ago. My little keepsake is now in the bin out back with the coffee grounds and whatnot from the employee break room.”

  She sighed, scuffed the toe of one clog against the worn brown carpeting and asked why she needed to talk to me since she’d already met with Dina and her counterpart, Tyler Armstrong.

  “You know that I worked as a private investigator before coming back to town,” I said.

  She smiled. “In Cleveland, right?”

  “That’s close,” I said. “It was actually Chicago. But the relevant thing is, I’m helping the Crescent Creek PD on the Amelia Felton case. I wanted to ask a few follow-up questions about three deliveries that QuikFlash apparently handled.”

  The smile on her face went flat. “What type of questions?”

  “I know that you spoke with Detective Kincaid,” I began, “but she wanted me to take a second look at Amelia’s desk and check to see if the security video might shed light on who brought in three bakery boxes for delivery.” I glanced over my shoulder at the front counter where customers pickup and drop-off packages. “Unless, of course, you found a telephone request in the logs.”

  Francine shook her head. “That’s just the thing, Katie. I spent two hours this morning going through files and emails from the past week. I can’t find anything about three bakery boxes. The QuikFlash tickets found by the police were completely blank except for names and addresses for Ken Ballard, Drew Vitale and Pam Lipton.”

  “What about the security cameras?” I said. “Did they show anyone bringing in the boxes?”

  She shook her head. “It’s like they just…” She stopped for a second when the door opened and someone came in from the sidewalk. “…um…sorry, Katie. Where were we?”

  “Did you find anything on the security cameras that shows how the three boxes came to be in your outgoing delivery bins?”

  “Oh, that’s right!” A dizzy smile flashed beneath her pale blue eyes. “I’m sorry to be so scattered. These past couple of days have been a whirlwind. I mean, first the news about Amelia. Then we heard about Ken.”

  The door opened again. Francine waved at one of the couriers before glancing back at me.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “the very next that I know, the police show up here with a search warrant and the awful news that we’d been inadvertently involved in a crime because the poisoned cupcake that Ken ate was in a package that we delivered. I know this is crazy to say, but I feel somehow responsible for what happened to Amelia. We didn’t deliver anything to her apartment, but she worked here. I’m so grateful that someone found Ken when they did so he could go to the hospital in time to save him. Otherwise, he might’ve gone to the morgue, too.”

  “Well, you’re not responsible for any of that,” I said.

  She offered a weak smile with a shrug. “I just hope they catch the guy that did this sooner rather than later. I don’t think we’ll ever get back to completely normal around here, but we can get close to it. Once people heard that there was a serial killer, the whole town seemed to get a little less friendly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you felt it?” she asked. “People kind of looking twice when they go to their cars in a parking lot. Fewer smiles and waves when you’re walking or driving anywhere. And if you get something in the mail that you don’t recognize, it goes right in the trash.”

  “I’ve heard the same rumors about a serial killer,” I said. “And I understand why folks might feel that way. But we also have to go about the business of our lives while the CCPD works to identify and apprehend whoever was responsible for what happened to Amelia and Ken.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Francine said, sounding less than convinced. “And in that case, I should get on with the business day. I need to make arrangements for Amelia’s belongings to be handled once the police are finished with her office. It’s still part of the investigation, so nothing can be discarded until we get the approval from Deputy Chief Walsh.”

  “Trent’s a good guy,” I said. “They’re just following protocol to keep the case moving and protect the evidence.”

  She smiled. “I know that. I’m not complaining.” The remark was followed by a long, willowy sigh. “Anyhoo, Katie,” she continued after a cleansing breath. “What was it you wanted to see again?”

  “Amelia’s desk,” I said. “Dina wanted me to take another look at the files and paperwork just in case she missed anything.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, that’s part of the crime scene, too,” she said. “And I don’t know how valuable it’s going to be for you. We’d been using that office as a temporary storeroom before Amelia came to work for us. It’s a pretty big jumble of file boxes, accounting records and holiday decorations.”

  “Not to worry,” I said. “I’m primarily interested in the desk drawers and filing cabinets that she might’ve used.”

  “Well, it’s no skin off my back,” Francine said. “If you want to go in there and poke around, you’re more than welcome to have at it.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Two hours later, as the janitorial cre
w arrived to clean the QuikFlash offices once they closed at six, I sat in the tiny room that Amelia Felton had occupied during the last few months. After methodically searching the drawers and filing cabinets, I remembered a case that I’d worked during my years as a private investigator in Chicago.

  “Can lightening strike twice?” I said, reaching under the desk. “Or will it—”

  My voice froze as I touched something taped to the bottom of the center drawer.

  Holy smokes, I thought. Dina is going to be ecstatic if this is evidence, even if she didn’t think of looking underneath the desk.

  As soon as I retrieved the manila envelope and scanned its contents, I instantly dialed Dina’s office at the CCPD.

  “Tell me again,” she said after I described the breakthrough. “You found a hit list and details about strychnine poisoning?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “It was in an envelope taped to the bottom of Amelia’s desk drawer.”

  “Really? So she didn’t try that hard to hide the information?”

  “Seems that way,” I said. “I’d looked through all the drawers three or four times, but then I remembered a case once in—”

  “Not now,” Dina said. “Is there anything on the envelope or the contents that would confirm Amelia left it there?”

  “Nothing visible that I noticed,” I said. “Let’s hope that the techs in the lab can pull prints or touch DNA from it.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you,” Dina replied, “but I’ve got my fingers crossed. That’s really the first solid clue we’ve found on this case outside of the bakery boxes and meringue cupcakes.”

  “Did the lab find anything more on the box from Ken’s office?” I asked.

  “Nothing new,” she said. “Still waiting for the lab to identify the smudge that was on the bakery box in Ken’s office.”

  “You know something?” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, I’ve been in this tiny office by myself for the past couple of hours,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about Amelia and Ken and the anonymous delivery of meringue cupcakes.”

  “Okay, so…” She yawned. “Sorry about that, Katie. Somebody needs to get more rest.”

  “Besides me?” I asked.

  “Yep. Except for the first two hours, I didn’t sleep very well last night. After I hit the pillow, I was out instantly. But I woke up later when a car backfired on the street below my bedroom window, and I never really got back to sleep.”

  “You poor thing,” I said as she yawned again. “Why don’t you take a quick power nap in your office?”

  “That sounds amazing,” she replied. “But the chairs are stacked with folders and the sofa has four big boxes on it.”

  “Can’t you just flop forward on your desk?” I asked. “I do that all the time at Sky High. You should just turn off the lights, cross your arms and put your head down.”

  “I’ve certainly done it before,” she said. “But I have too much work to do. Deputy Chief Walsh had a call from Mayor Washington this morning. He wanted to know how much longer before we crack the serial killer case. I guess the drums are really starting to beat around town. People demanding action, or Trent’s head on a stick.”

  “And that’s not going to happen,” I said. “He’s too focused to let anything derail this investigation.”

  “No kidding,” she said. “But you didn’t finish your thought a second ago. You told me that you’ve been sitting in Amelia’s office for the past two hours. Where were you going with that?”

  “Sure thing,” I said. “It started after I found the envelope taped to the bottom of the drawer. When I looked inside, I found two sheets of paper. One had a list of four names. The other was DIY instructions for killing someone with strychnine.”

  “You’re joking,” she said.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not. The sheet was like a step-by-step guide to committing murder. In this case, murder by meringue, since that’s what the cupcakes were topped with.”

  “Okay,” Dina said. “What else?”

  “The list included four names,” I said. “Ken Ballard, Drew Vitale, Pamela Lipton and Richard Lorenzo.”

  Dina was quiet while she pondered the new details. I knew that she’d figure it out if she took the time. And I could tell that she was following my conjecture when I heard a shift in her breathing as well as an uptick in her voice.

  “Four names on the hit list,” she said. “But none of them belonged to our first victim.”

  “Can you please repeat that?” I asked.

  And she did. Twice. Then she repeated the four names again.

  “Isn’t Richard Lorenzo an attorney?” I asked.

  “That’s correct,” Dina replied. “He’s also my top priority right now. We’ve recovered the poisoned cupcakes from Drew and Pamela. But if Lorenzo’s on that list, we have another potential victim that we didn’t know about.”

  “His office is less than a mile from here,” I said. “Do you want me to go over?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got this,” Dina replied. “I can call his office much faster than you can drive over.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Let me know if—”

  And she hung up before I could finish making the offer.

  CHAPTER 26

  The next afternoon, I saw Carmen Alvarez in the post office. She was addressing a package at one of the side tables near the racks of greeting cards and shipping envelopes.

  “Hey, beautiful!” she said after I called her name. “How are you?”

  We shared a quick hug before I asked about her three children.

  “A mother’s work is never done,” she said, tapping the package on the table. “I ordered new shoes for the girls, but they hated the colors. Nobody told me that peach and pink were last year’s trends.”

  “How old are they now?” I asked.

  “Brea is ten,” Carmen said. “And Angela’s going on thirty. She thinks that being in the sixth grade means she’s an adult now.”

  “And how about your son?”

  She smiled. “It isn’t on his birth certificate,” she said, “but apparently his middle name is Trouble.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “It’s a stage,” she added. “We were all two at some point, right?”

  “I still feel that age on some days,” I said with a wink.

  Carmen’s sunny smile dimmed. “What do you think of everything going on with Amelia and her brother?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You know that she died, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Such a tragic thing.”

  “Do you think that her brother did it?” she asked.

  The question sent my mind reeling. “Why would you think that Hugh is involved with his sister’s death?”

  She inched closer. “Because of how he’s been acting,” she whispered. “I saw them arguing a lot before he got a room at the motel. He always stays with Amelia when he comes to visit, but something was different this time.”

  “Where did you see them arguing?”

  “At the bagel place,” Carmen answered. “I ran in there one day last week, and Amelia was screaming at her brother. Like, really loud! Everybody in the place could hear what she was saying to him.”

  I smiled. “And what was it?”

  “Something about a cake,” she said. “Or cupcakes. That part was kind of garbled. But they were fighting about cooking something.”

  “Maybe for the Family Flair Bakeoff,” I said. “I’ve heard they entered again this year. That was at least part of the reason that Hugh came up from Dallas.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said. “But even before I saw them arguing, I was getting weird vibes. I told my husband that something fishy was going on, but he suggested that I should mind my own business. And now look what happened! Amelia’s dead, and her brother’s going after all of her money!”

  “Hold on,” I said. “What do you mean?”

&
nbsp; “I saw him at the bank,” she told me. “He was in with the branch manager, trying to get all of the cash from his sister’s checking account to help pay for her funeral. I mean, the poor woman’s only been dead for a couple of days, and the vultures are already circling.”

  “Did they give it to him?” I asked. “Maybe he was the designated beneficiary on her account.”

  Carmen shook her head. “You’re right about that,” she said. “I couldn’t make out every last word, but I swear that I heard the guy from the bank tell Hugh that both he and Ken Ballard were beneficiaries on Amelia’s account.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “That’s what it sounded like to me. I suppose it could’ve been about something else, but the guy definitely said Ken and Hugh were on the paperwork.” She moved even closer. “And since somebody also tried to kill Ken, doesn’t that sound like maybe Hugh’s behind the whole thing?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s really going to be a matter of evidence and facts, not conjecture or rumors.”

  Carmen’s eyes widened. “Well, this isn’t a rumor, Katie. I heard this with my own two ears.”

  “I know, but there’s still—”

  “Not to mention the business with their uncle,” she said quietly.

  “Who’s uncle?” I asked.

  “Amelia and Hugh,” she said. “If you haven’t heard about that yet, check him out on Google. His name was Garrett Bachus. He was from Rhode Island. And even though Hugh wasn’t born yet when the uncle did something similar, it sure sounds like he’s either following in his relative’s footsteps or somebody’s turned the tables on Amelia and—”

  “Carmen!”

  I whirled around and saw her husband, a tall guy with chubby cheeks and dark hair slicked down with pomade.

  “What’s taking so long?” he asked. “The kids are starving!”

  “Be right out,” she called. “I ran into Katie, and we got to talking about you-know-who.”

  He frowned. “No, I don’t know who. Can we please hurry it up and get some food?”