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

by Mary Maxwell

  “Is Hugh Felton still registered?” I asked.

  The scowl on Earl’s face answered the question before he said a word. “The loser’s in Room 117. And you can’t miss it. There’s a stench coming from under the door that smells exactly like desperation.”

  Nearly everyone in town was aware of the bad blood between Amelia’s brother and Earl. When Hugh moved away after high school, most people hoped the feud would fade into history, but the dormant anger bubbled to the surface if their paths crossed when Hugh returned for a visit. Like many long-running disputes, the origins of the grudge were lost to time, faulty memories and a shared fondness for Wild Turkey.

  “We’ve got company,” Earl said, pointing over my shoulder. “Five-O.”

  I glanced through the window. Dina Kincaid was climbing out of a dark blue sedan as two patrol cars moved into position to block the parking lot entrances.

  “Is this all for Hugh?” asked Earl.

  “Stay where you are for the time being,” I said, turning toward the door. “Dina will want a few minutes with you once everything’s buttoned up.”

  He gulped. “Buttoned up? What’s going on, Katie?”

  “I can’t say anything more,” I told Earl. “It’ll all come out soon.”

  “Did Hugh do something wrong?”

  I lifted one hand, motioning for him to stay behind the counter. But Earl’s ability to follow simple instructions, even those designed to keep him safe from harm, was limited in scope and duration. He was like an excited puppy or disobedient toddler; arms and legs springing uncontrollably, eyes wide with excitement and an endless stream of nervous chatter that was a mishmash of unintelligible sounds.

  “I talked to him late last night,” Earl said.

  “Okay,” I replied. “But please don’t go outside until they’re finished.”

  “Finished doing what?” he asked, leaning around the end of the counter for a better view of the parking lot.

  While Earl continued spewing questions and random thoughts about Amelia’s brother, I sent Dina a text to let her know Hugh Felton’s location.

  Got it, she replied instantly. Room 117. Earl with u?

  He’s here, I answered.

  Where’s his father? Dina asked.

  “Earl?” I said “Where’s your dad?”

  He pointed at the door behind the counter that led to the motel office. Then he pantomimed the motion of rocking a baby in his arms. I shared the update with Dina in another text, and she relayed a reminder that I should keep out of sight until they had Hugh in custody.

  “How long has Amelia’s brother been here?” I asked.

  “A few nights,” Earl said. “He wanted to checkout this morning and move back to his sister’s apartment to save on the motel bill, but the police wouldn’t let him because it’s still an active crime scene.”

  “How did he take that news?” I asked.

  Earl shrugged. “About as well as he accepted my apology for running out of Twizzlers in the vending machine.”

  “I’ve heard that he’s a little rough around the edges these days,” I said. “It’s been a while since I saw him.”

  “Hugh Felton doesn’t really have edges,” Earl replied, going back to his perch behind the counter. “He’s one big, black hole of resentment and anger.”

  “Can’t wait to see him again,” I joked. “Do you think a wubbie and pacifier would keep Baby Huey from getting grouchy?”

  Earl snorted a laugh. “Hell, no! There’s only one thing that’ll keep that moron quiet.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about death or Twizzlers, so I decided not to inquire.

  “Why can’t you tell me what he did wrong?” Earl asked, nervously drumming his fingers beside the bag of Doritos.

  “Because I really don’t know,” I said. “There were some clues that seemed to suggest Hugh might be in a position to help the CCPD with their investigation of his sister’s death.”

  Earl’s eyes flared. “Is he the Strychnine Stalker?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I said, Earl. I’ve just learned a few things in the past couple of days that—”

  “Did he kill his sister?” Earl blurted.

  “Calm down,” I said. “You’ll get yourself worked up.”

  “It’s too late for that!” He reached for the Doritos. “I can’t believe that the Strychnine Stalker has been here at the Moonlight! We’ll be all over the news! People will want to stay in Room 117! Maybe we can sell T-shirts and—”

  “Earl!” I shouted. “Get a grip!”

  He froze with a Cool Ranch chip half way between the bag and his mouth.

  “We need to keep calm and stay here until Dina and the officers have a chance to talk with Hugh.”

  “Oh, no…” His voice quivered as he returned the salty snack to the crumpled package. “You didn’t ask me if Hugh was actually in his room right now, Katie. When you came through the door, you asked if he was still registered.”

  I felt a tremor of irritation. “So you’re telling me that he left?”

  Earl’s head bobbed excitedly. “It’s not my fault! You asked if he was registered.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for the phone again. “Do you know where he went?”

  “Possibly,” Earl said. “He asked for a recommendation on where he could get something to eat that would keep him away from all the gossip about his sister.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I was honest with the guy,” Earl said. “Gossip is hard to avoid in a town this small. But I suggested Noodle Nation, the salad place next to Chuck Bronstein’s tire store or Genghis Khan for the stir fry beef with broccoli. All three of those places are pretty quiet this time of day.”

  “Good suggestions,” I said. “What’s Hugh driving?”

  Earl’s left eye closed half way. “Let me think on that,” he said. “It’s either a black or dark blue SUV.”

  I smiled. “Can you narrow that down for me?”

  “How about this?” he said. “It’s a Chevrolet Tahoe, probably two or three years old. There’s an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that’s shaped like a grizzly bear. The right rear passenger door has a scratch approximately five inches in length that’s roughly half a foot below the handle. There was a box of tissues on the dashboard with little flowers on it, like maybe daisies and lilacs. And there’s a Dallas Cowboys sticker on the back bumper, on account of Hugh moved to Texas once he’d finished tormenting me after high school.”

  “Thanks, Earl,” I said. “I’m going outside to let Dina know.”

  “What should I do?” he asked. “Come with you?”

  “No,” I said. “The best thing that you can do right now is keep working on those chips.”

  CHAPTER 37

  The frown on Dina’s face radiated exasperation and impatience when I approached her in the motel parking lot a few moments later.

  “I thought you told me that Hugh Felton was here at the motel,” she said, flicking her eyes between her phone and my face.

  “He was at the time,” I replied. “But he went to get something to eat.”

  She fixed her gaze on the phone. “Any idea where?”

  “Earl gave him three recommendations,” I said. “Noodle Nation, Home Fresh Greens and Genghis Khan.”

  She scrolled through a list of messages. “Okay, thanks. I’m just getting something from Tyler Armstrong. He was doing follow-up interviews for us at QuikFlash this morning, and one of the employees came forward with additional information.”

  “Can you say who?”

  She looked at the messages again. “Tina Randolph. She works as a dispatch operator. We didn’t catch her in the initial interviews because she’d gone out of town for a couple of days. But Tina reported that the morning of Amelia’s death, she went to work earlier than usual. As she was coming in the door, she saw Hugh Felton giving four white bakery boxes to his sister. Tina didn’t really think much of it at the ti
me because she’d never met Hugh before. She figured he was a QuikFlash customer dropping off some deliveries.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” I said. “But I thought you checked the security camera footage from QuikFlash.”

  The scowl returned. “Don’t even get me started,” she said.

  “On what?”

  “Somebody missed the lapse in the footage,” she replied. “After Tyler got the new information from Tina Randolph, he went back to the video. There’s a ten-minute gap in the footage. Someone turned off the QuikFlash security system that morning around the time that Tina got to work. We presume it was Amelia, but there’s no way to confirm that right now.”

  “Wouldn’t that suggest Amelia and Hugh were both involved in trying to kill Ken Ballard?”

  Dina shrugged. “It’s too soon to make that leap, but Tina’s statement and the manipulated video footage strongly suggest that Amelia’s brother was directly involved in something nefarious.”

  “You think that Hugh killed his sister?” I asked.

  Dina raised one hand with the palm toward me. “Slow down, Katie. We need to find the guy and talk to him before we can reach any conclusions.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said. “But the new information from Tina connects some very important dots.”

  “Let’s do it this way,” Dina suggested. “I’ll go to Noodle Nation. We’ll send Denny and Amanda to the salad place. And you can drive by Genghis Khan to see if our ne’er-do-well friend settled on stir fry. But if you see him, sit tight and let me know so I can send a patrol car to make the arrest.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, reaching for the car keys.

  Dina smiled. “I doubt Mr. Felton will agree with that assessment,” she said. “Especially since we now have a direct connection between him, the poisoned cupcakes and his late sister.”

  CHAPTER 38

  I spotted Hugh Felton’s SUV the minute that I reached Genghis Khan. It was parked in front of the restaurant between a tan minivan and a UPS truck.

  After finding a spot to leave my car around the corner, I walked back to verify that I had the right vehicle. The dark blue Tahoe matched the description that I’d received from Earl Dodd: scratch on the right passenger door, grizzly bear air freshener and a faded Dallas Cowboys sticker on the back bumper.

  As I reached for my phone to send a text to Dina, I heard footsteps scuffing along the pavement.

  “Help you with something?” called a voice.

  I turned slowly as Amelia’s brother ambled toward me from the sidewalk.

  “Hugh,” I said. “I’m Kate Reed. Your sister and I—”

  “Get the hell away from my car,” he said.

  There was a jagged edge to his voice; hard and sharp and incontestable. The man wasn’t in the mood to talk to me or anyone else.

  “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Amelia,” I said, closing both hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

  He glared at me silently. It was as if he was daring me to ask the question that was lodged in my throat.

  “Save the sympathy,” he said. “I don’t need it.”

  I kept my gaze locked on his angry snarl. His right eye fluttered and squirmed, an erratic series of twitches that made him appear even more agitated than the tone of his voice suggested.

  “Amelia was a regular at my family’s café,” I said, hoping to engage him in conversation long enough to allow Dina time to arrive. “She was in last week with—”

  “Look,” he interrupted, moving toward me. “I don’t have time to reminisce about my sister. I have a funeral to plan, relatives to call and a bunch of crap to deal with that won’t get done if I stand around and listen to all of Amelia’s little friends whimper and wail.”

  Between the icy glare, dismissive tone and hostile body language, Hugh Felton was communicating loud and clear: Shut up! Leave me alone!

  I’d faced similar characters during my years as a private investigator, so I took a deep breath, straightened my back and went into my pocket for a business card.

  “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “I’d be happy to take care of any catering that you might need for the memorial service.”

  He studied the card for a few seconds before slipping it into his shirt pocket.

  “Okay, thanks,” he said. “But I still don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s understandable, Hugh. It’s a devastating shock to your system. And everyone processes these things in their own way.”

  The angry grimace on his face shifted slightly. “Processes?” he said. “What’s that mean?”

  Although he still appeared visibly distressed and angry, Hugh’s voice was softening.

  “Just how you…” I loosened my fingers and took another deep breath. “Well, how you come to terms with the sudden loss of a beloved family member.”

  “Beloved?” He actually laughed after spitting out the word. “There’s nobody beloved in my family.”

  I was caught off guard by the quick rebuke. As my mind scrambled to find a new approach, I heard the sound of tires squealing somewhere nearby. Come on, Dina, I thought. Where are you?

  “Had Amelia mentioned any disputes with friends or coworkers lately?” I asked, hoping to redirect the conversation and buy a little more time.

  Hugh’s forehead crumpled. “Disputes?”

  I nodded. “Did she talk about any recent disagreements?” I said. “Maybe with someone at QuikFlash or a neighbor?”

  The tactic was working. Hugh’s eyes flicked left to right a few times as he considered the questions. When he eventually spoke, I was surprised by the response as well as how much his demeanor changed as he shared his thoughts about his sister.

  “My sister is a good…was a good person,” he began. “She made mistakes like everybody else. She could get angry. She could cuss up a storm. But she would’ve never have hurt anyone if people had just left well enough alone.”

  “What people?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat and dragged the back of one meaty hand across his lips. “This all makes me real uncomfortable. I should get going anyway. Our mom and dad are flying in this afternoon. I need to get ready to drive down to Denver and meet their plane.”

  “When is the memorial service?” I asked. “I heard a couple of different dates from people earlier today.”

  “It’s next Friday,” Hugh said. “The police won’t let us bury her until they’re finished with the investigation.” His eyes narrowed again. “Which is so stupid because it was an accident. There’s no way that Amelia would kill herself.”

  The unexpected comment left me thunderstruck. After talking to Phyllis Hartley earlier, when she revealed that the Nite to Remember cake had been entered in the Family Flair Bakeoff by Amelia and her brother, I suspected that Hugh was involved in the death of his sister and the attempted murders of Ken Ballard, Drew Vitale, Pamela Lipton and Richard Lorenzo. At this point, the motive was entirely speculative, but the circumstantial evidence seemed to indicate his guilt: the smudge of frosting on one of the bakery boxes and the security camera footage from QuikFlash Couriers.

  “Do you know what I learned the other day?” I asked Hugh.

  He glared at me. “Do you think that I even care?”

  “Well, you should,” I replied. “Considering that it relates to your Uncle Garrett and the murders that he committed twenty years ago.”

  Hugh smiled. “Twenty-two years, six months and three days,” he said with a gruff chuckle. “I thought you law enforcement types were supposed to be concerned about truth and facts and irrefutable evidence.”

  “Cute,” I said. “And you’re right; we’re not only concerned about the truth, but we’ve made some very interesting discoveries that are true and irrefutable. I know that Detective Kincaid will very much look forward to discussing all of that with you at CCPD Headquarters.”

  “Yeah?” He looked up and down the street. “Doesn’t look like she got the memo.”

>   I smiled. “I’ll say this for you, Hugh. You’ve got the confidence and swagger thing down.”

  He crinkled his nose. “Is that fear I smell, Katie? You afraid now? Think that I’m going to force a poisoned cookie down your throat?”

  “Actually, it was cupcakes,” I said as Dina’s sedan whirled around the corner. “And I’m not afraid. But I do have a question for you.”

  Hugh scowled. “About what?”

  “You just described your sister’s death as an accident,” I said. “Considering that Amelia had ingested strychnine and the police found cupcakes poisoned with the stuff at four locations in town, it would appear that there may be a link between Amelia’s death and the other crimes.”

  “Don’t you mean the other murders?”

  I shook my head. “Singular,” I said. “Your sister is actually the only person killed by the tainted cupcakes. The other four would be attempted murder, since the intended victims are still among the living.”

  He smiled. “Listen to you,” he said with a dark snarl. “You sound like a cop.”

  “I used to work as a PI. These days, I do a little consulting work when I can be helpful.”

  “You feel like being helpful right now?” he asked.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “How about you move out of my way so I can leave?” He aimed the key fob at the SUV and the vehicle’s alarm squawked. “I’ve got a funeral to plan.”

  I stepped aside. When he made a move for the driver’s door, I followed along.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  I flashed a sunny smile. “Do what?”

  “Be an ass,” Hugh hissed. “Get away from me, freak. I know that you’re friendly with Deputy Chief Walsh and that lady detective, but that doesn’t mean diddly to me.”

  “Who came up with the idea?” I asked. “You or Amelia?”

  Hugh glared at me. Then he spit on the ground. And then a CCPD patrol car screeched around the corner just as he reached for the door handle.

  “You say one word about that slipup,” he said, “and I’ll cut your throat the next time I see you.”