by Mary Maxwell
I held up one hand. “Slow down for a sec, okay? It sounds like maybe something was lost in translation.”
Julia frowned. “We were all speaking English.”
“Not that kind of translation,” I said with a laugh. “I mean the kind when several people pass along a story. It sounds like a few facts were twisted as one person told the next.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like Dina didn’t say a word about murder,” I answered.
“Okay,” Julia said. “In that case, was it just a kidnapping?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really know much at all yet.”
“Well, what did Dina tell you?”
“Not too much beyond the basics,” I said. “Tony Hett called 911 to report that Darren was trying to break into his house.”
“What time was this?” she asked.
“Shortly after eleven,” I said. “It sure doesn’t sound like anything that Darren would do, but Tony was adamant when he was on the phone with the 911 operator.”
“So Darren broke down the door, but he didn’t kill anyone?”
I shook my head. “As I just told you, Dina didn’t say a word about homicide. But she was very clear about the front door; it wasn’t kicked in, although it was unlocked and ajar when the first officers got there.”
“Well, Clark seemed pretty convinced about the murder.”
“Okay, sure,” I said with a smile. “But remember the time he also believed that Dylan Truman won the Nobel Peace Prize for breaking up a fight at that bar in Briarfield?”
She made a face. “Clark may not be the brightest, but he’s a good guy.”
“I agree one-hundred percent,” I said. “But in this case, I think he’s working with faulty information.”
“What about when the cops got to Tony Hett’s place?” she asked. “Was one of his friends really hogtied in the living room with electrical cords?”
I smiled. “Once again, I think the story got twisted somewhere along the line. When the first responders arrived, the front door was open, a bunch of the furniture had been flipped over and there was blood on the floor. Otherwise, the house was empty. No Darren, no Tony and nobody tied up like a hog.”
As Julia and I continued discussing the differences between Dina’s account and the buzz on the local grapevine, Harper suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“What are you guys doing in here?” she asked. “We open in forty-five minutes and the front line isn’t set up, there’s no pancake batter and the batch of muffins that was in the oven look a little too done.”
Julia lurched from the chair and scurried out of the room. “I’ll grab the muffins,” she called over her shoulder. “Then I’ll be right back so we can wrap up our chat.”
“What’s going on?” asked Harper. “You both seem pretty distracted.”
“We were talking about the incident at Tony Hett’s the other night,” I said. “Darren Rigby is missing and the man who—”
“Darren isn’t missing,” she said with a confused frown. “He and Liz Winchester are outside in rocking chairs on the front porch. I figured they were waiting for us to open at seven.”
“Remind me,” Julia asked as she returned. “Who is Liz Winchester again?”
“That’s Darren’s assistant,” Harper answered. “She was one of the first people hired after he and Sheila started their company.”
“Is she the tall woman with bangs?” Julia said.
“That’s her,” Harper replied. “She’s ordinarily very sweet and relaxed, but the expression on her face at the moment says this isn’t a normal day.”
I pushed up from my chair. Then I grabbed my phone. And then I hurried toward the hallway.
“Katie?” Harper reached unsuccessfully for my arm. “What the heck is going on?”
“I’ll tell you,” I said, “as soon as somebody tells me!”
CHAPTER 6
When I unlocked the front door and rushed onto the porch, Liz Winchester got to her feet and walked toward me.
“Katie,” she said. “I knocked, but…” Her face crumpled as tears formed in her eyes. “I ran out of the house without my phone, so I just figured we’d wait here until somebody unlocked the door. I wanted to go right to the police station, but Darren insisted on coming here. He remembered your stories about being a private investigator, and I guess that made him feel like he’d rather talk to you since you’re a friend.”
I kept my gaze on Darren while I pulled Liz in for a hug. We both knew Ivy Minkler from the Crescent Creek Library, so our paths crossed at least once every month at Ivy’s Literary Lunch Bunch, a Sunday afternoon book club that usually featured as much local gossip as bookish banter.
“So what can you tell me?” I asked when she sat beside Darren again. “I talked to Detective Kincaid yesterday. She gave me the rundown on the situation at Mr. Hett’s house, but she said that Darren had been abducted along with Tony.”
Liz nodded. “It’s just…well, it’s so terrifying,” she said quietly. “I got the call a couple of hours ago. I was at home, sound asleep, when a man called and said that Darren had been involved in some type of accident. He told me that I would find him waiting in the gazebo at Arrowhead Park. I tried asking the man a question, but he hung up without another word.”
“Did you recognize the voice?” I asked.
“No,” said Liz. “It wasn’t anyone that I know.”
“And so you drove to the park and found Darren?”
“That’s right,” she said. “He was on the ground, slumped against a tree right by the gazebo. I had to shake him violently to get him to open his eyes.” She reached for Darren’s hand and gave it a long squeeze. “He’s not right, Katie. I mean, he’s totally confused about everything. I think maybe someone has kept him drugged since two nights ago when he was abducted.”
I didn’t want to add to Darren’s bewilderment, so I suggested that we go inside, get some coffee and call Dina.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Liz said.
But as she stood and held out a hand to Darren, he shook his head and planted his feet firmly on the floor.
“No police,” he said. “They told me not to talk to the police.”
Liz shot me a look that blended alarm, panic and compassion.
“Who told you that?” I asked Darren, kneeling beside his chair.
He gazed at me like a child; head tilted to one side, eyes narrowed in confusion, lips curled into a drowsy grin.
“Spider-Man,” Darren whispered. “But it’s a secret.”
Liz laughed nervously. “He told me that they wore masks,” she said. “I think that’s where the Spider-Man thing came from.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, keeping my eyes on Darren. “So they wore masks and warned you not to talk to the police?”
He raised one hand and pantomimed slicing his throat, but he didn’t say anything to accompany the gesture.
“Alright, I think we all know what that means,” I said, patting his arm. “And you don’t have anything to worry about here, okay? I don’t work for the police, Darren. Liz and I will keep you safe inside. Maybe you and she can sit in the office for a few minutes. Does that sound okay?”
His forehead creased. “My office isn’t open yet.”
“I was talking about the Sky High office.” I pointed at the front door. “It’s just through there and down the hallway. If that sounds acceptable, I can get you settled there and then maybe you’d like a cup of tea or coffee?”
His eyes widened at the mention of something to drink.
“Juice?” he said, looking at Liz. “And some aspirin?”
“Anything you need,” she told him. “Why don’t we get up now, and go into—”
“I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” Darren interrupted. “Did I drink too much last night?”
Liz’s expression soured. “You didn’t do anything at all,” she said. “Somebody did this to you.”
I knew that she was trying to be h
elpful, but the response only added to Darren’s confusion.
“Somebody…” He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe we should take this one step at a time,” I suggested, offering a small nod to Liz. “Let’s get Darren inside and I’ll find some juice while you and he relax in the office. Does that sound okay?”
She heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t have…” Her voice caught in her throat. “This is really freaking me out, Katie.”
“I know,” I told her. “And it’ll be okay. Once we get you both inside, I’m going to call Dina and tell her that he’s safe. I’ll explain the situation and let you know how she wants to handle things.”
“But they told him not to do that,” she said.
I smiled. “Dina will know the best approach under the given circumstances. Since the CCPD is devoting resources to try and find Darren, we really should let them know that he’s safe. My best guess will be that she’ll want to talk with you and get as much information as possible.”
A car pulled into the parking lot from Pine Street. I took a long look until I recognized the vintage Mercedes sedan.
“We should go inside,” I told Liz. “That’s Penny Murdoch.”
When her eyes flashed with a fresh wave of panic, I could tell that she knew what I meant. Penny was a gregarious, middle-aged self-starter, but she loved gossip almost more than her husband and two children.
“She’s just picking up an order of cinnamon rolls,” I added, “but I don’t think it’d be a good idea for her to see your boss in this condition.”
“You’re absolutely right about that!” Liz tugged on Darren’s hand. “C’mon, Mr. Rigby. Let’s get you inside, okay?”
CHAPTER 7
A half hour later, Harper rushed toward me in the kitchen with a look of panic in her eyes.
“Katie?” she whispered. “Did you know there’s a man sleeping on the floor in the office?”
I smiled. “That’s Darren from next door,” I said. “It’s a bit of a long story.”
Her mouth twisted into a disdainful smirk. “Well, did you know that he’s snoring? Gabby Wilson was in the entryway waiting for her friend. Our sleepy neighbor snorted and it scared Gabby so much that she dropped her box of cookies.”
“Any damage?” I asked.
“To Gabby or the cookies?” Harper said.
“You know what I mean,” I replied. “We can replace them if we need to.”
“I’ve already taken care of it,” she said. “But Gabby jumped right on the phone to Penny Murdoch. She told her that we’ve got a drunk sleeping it off over here.”
My mind flooded with a sense of déjà vu. Penny’s arrival earlier had led to Darren being sequestered in the first place. When I’d escorted him and Liz to the tiny windowless room that serves as the office, Darren had immediately slumped in a chair. I tried to engage him in conversation to learn about the events of the previous evening, but he was yawning so much that his replies were unintelligible. Liz had suggested that a beverage would help perk up her boss. When I returned less than five minutes later, after pouring a glass of orange juice and calling my friend Dina with the Crescent Creek Police, Darren was in a fetal position on the floor behind the desk. “He’ll be up in no time at all,” Liz had assured me. “He just needs a power nap.”
“Katie?” Harper touched my arm. “You still in there somewhere?”
I smiled. “Sorry, I was thinking about earlier with Darren and Liz.”
“Freak show,” she said. “But at least he’s quiet now.”
“Thankfully,” I said. “Do you know why Penny thought we had a drunk in the office?”
Harper smiled. “Because Gabby’s scream is what actually woke Darren,” she answered. “After she heard the series of snorts, Gabby went to investigate. The office door was ajar, so she pushed it open and peeked inside.”
I put my head in my hands. “This is not how I thought the morning would go,” I said.
“Well, that’s rich!” Harper giggled. “Gabby said the very same thing after she dropped the box of cookies.”
“Look,” I said, offering an apologetic smile. “Can you handle Gabby? I need to get on the phone and find out why Dina isn’t here yet.”
Harper’s eyes turned into saucers. “Fudgesicle! Between Gabby’s screams and the broken cookies, I totally forgot that Dina’s waiting for you in the dining room.”
“She is?” I asked. “How long has she been here?”
“I don’t know,” Harper replied with a shrug. “Maybe ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, turning for the door into the next room. “Will you remind me later to call Penny and explain everything?”
“Oh, no worries,” she said with a massive grin. “I’ve already taken care of that, too!”
“You did?”
She snapped her fingers several times. “No rest for the wicked! I gave Gabby a dozen new cookies and squelched Penny’s worst instincts with an appeal for discretion.”
“Well, thank you again,” I said. “You never cease to amaze!”
Her grin widened even more. “No problem at all! You better go see what Dina has to say before she hits the highway.”
“I will,” I said. “But first, how did you get our least favorite gossipmonger to back down?”
Harper smiled. “I reminded Penny that I still have the video of her tipsy karaoke performance of that naughty Donna Summer disco song.”
“When did that happen?” I asked.
“Ten years and six hairstyles ago,” Harper answered. “It’s worked a few times in the past, so I figured it would work again today.”
CHAPTER 8
Dina was sitting alone at a table as I hurried across the dining.
“I’m so sorry about making you wait,” I said, sliding into the chair across from her.
“Things have been a little chaotic this morning.”
“Welcome to my world,” she said. “I actually didn’t mind having a few minutes to catch my breath.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” I said. “The last thing I need is—”
“But now that you’re here,” she said, “I want you to know there’s a singular reason that I’m sharing more than I normally would.” She paused, glancing at me with a watery grin. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”
I shrugged. “Is it because you value my opinion as a former private investigator?”
“That’s definitely true,” she said. “But I was also wondering if one piece of evidence that we found at Tony Hett’s place last night came from Sky High.”
The news hit me like an uppercut followed by a bucket of cold water.
“What was it?” I asked.
“A bakery box,” she said. “It was empty and in the trash can, but the sticker on top was like one of yours.”
“Hold on,” I replied quickly. “Like one of ours or was one of ours?”
“It was the same color,” she explained. “With a similar typeface.”
“What did it say?”
She checked the handwritten notes that she was carrying.
“‘Thanks for being so sweet,’ she said.
“Phew, that’s a relief!” I said. “We stopped using that one before my parents retired. These days we go with ‘Make every day a Sky High day!’”
She made a face. “If I did that, I’d never fit into any of my clothes.”
“Are you sure it’s connected to what happened?” I asked. “I mean, maybe he bought something at a bakery a few days ago.”
Dina shook her head. “Yesterday’s date was on the receipt. So whoever bought the cupcakes did it the day that Hett went missing.”
“How do you know the box was for cupcakes?”
“Someone wrote it beside the sticker in red ink,” she said. “There was also a second box from the same place. It had Cookies written on it.”
“Well, that tells us that Tony or his visitors have a sweet tooth,” I said.
She smiled. “I kn
ow that, but it also could help us identify those visitors if Hett wasn’t the one buying the baked goods.”
I considered her comment. Then I thought about how long it would take to visit all of the bakeries, restaurants and grocery stores in the area that used the generic bakery labels. And then I asked if Dina had pictures from the crime scene on her phone.
“I do,” she answered.
“Can you show me the boxes and labels?” I asked.
“I can.” She reached into her pocket. “But you’ve probably seen them or something similar a million times.”
“Sure, but I’d still like to take a look,” I told her. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
She focused on the phone for a few seconds. When the image was ready, she put it on the table and slid it toward me.
“Pretty standard,” she said. “Unless I’m missing something.”
I studied the photograph of the sticker. It was identical to the decals that my grandmother and parents had used for years at Sky High. They were sold by a local promotional company that handled everything from caps, clocks and coasters to wine, watches and wellness journals. All of the merchandise could be imprinted with motivational slogans, silly catchphrases or company logos.
“Did you check with Tori Bailey?” I asked. “Her company carries that line of stickers.”
Dina scribbled the name in her notebook. Then she said, “Did you talk to Darren and Liz when they got here?”
“Very briefly,” I said. “And it didn’t make much sense.”
“But it might be helpful,” she replied. “Can you give me the highlights?”
“Darren told me that the intruders wore Spider-Man masks,” I said. “And Liz thinks that someone drugged him.”
“I’ll take him to the Med Center,” Dina said. “He should be checked by a doctor before we try to get his statement.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. “I’ll put everything in an email and send it to you later.”
“Instead of coming to the station?”
“I can do both,” I said.
She nodded. “I’d appreciate that, Katie. Considering Tony Hett’s resources and reputation, I’d like to do everything by the book.”