The Cherry Chip Murders

by Mary Maxwell

  “His reputation?” I smiled.

  “I did some research this morning,” she said. “He’s known to file lawsuits against friends and foes alike. I’d rather protect the CCPD and myself from any unnecessary headaches down the line.”

  “Smart move,” I said. “I wonder if that had anything to do with why Darren and Sheila hadn’t signed the contracts yet for Tony to buy their company.”

  “Maybe that’s why Darren went out there last night,” she said.

  “Possibly. Neither he nor Liz mentioned anything about that earlier.”

  “Well, speaking of Darren,” she said, “is he still back in your office?”

  I nodded. “Should we go wake up Sleeping Beauty and see if he’s ready to tell you where he’s been for the past two nights?”

  We got up from the table and made our way across the room and down the hallway. But when I opened the office door and stepped inside, Darren was gone, one of the guest chairs was knocked over and a message had been scrawled on the back of an envelope with the tube of lipstick that I keep in the top desk drawer: I remember where they took us. Going there now.

  “Well, that’s one way to keep us in the loop,” I said.

  Dina heaved a sigh. “And there’s another,” she replied, pointing at the wall near the door.

  A second message had been scrawled on the pristine white paint that was barely six months old: They want money. Otherwise Tony dies.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Did I see who?” Julia asked when I rushed into the kitchen a few minutes later with Dina close behind.

  “Darren Rigby,” I said. “He was in the office with Liz Winchester, but now they’re both gone.”

  She shook her head. “Did you look on the front porch? Harper told me a few minutes ago that Liz was out there talking on the phone.”

  I glanced at Dina. “Do you mind if I go out there with you?”

  “C’mon,” she said, moving toward the hallway. “I hope she’s got a good explanation for whatever the heck is going on here.”

  But when we found Liz on the porch, she had no explanation. She was a bundle of nerves, incomplete sentences and nonstop sighing.

  “I don’t know where he is,” she sputtered. “I went to the ladies’ room and he was fine. When I came back a few minutes later, my car keys were gone and he’d left a message on the wall.” She winced. “Which, of course, we’ll pay to have repainted. He’s just so out of it that he probably didn’t know what he was doing.”

  I waved away the offer. “The wall is the least of our worries at this point. Did Darren say anything at all before he fell asleep?”

  She shook her head and slumped forward in the chair.

  “Look,” said Dina, sitting beside her. “We’re all dealing with a huge number of unknown factors at this point. But I think that we can agree on one very important thing: Darren is in some kind of trouble and needs help. I obviously haven’t seen him yet, but it sounds like someone possibly drugged him last night. We found traces of ketamine in two of the empty beer bottles in the trash at Tony Hett’s place.”

  “What is that?” asked Liz. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

  “It’s a powerful drug,” Dina said

  “Would it make him so woozy and confused?” Liz said.

  “It definitely could,” I told her. “But it depends on how much you ingest. If you take a fairly large amount, you can experience hallucinations and amnesia, although even with low doses, ketamine can impair someone’s memory.”

  Liz began to cry again. “Can’t you just send someone to find him?” she sobbed. “Isn’t that why you called her, Katie?”

  Dina smiled at me before turning her gaze back to Liz.

  “We’re absolutely looking for Mr. Rigby,” she said calmly. “At this point, however, his whereabouts are a complete mystery. We know that he’s driving your car. We know that he’s in an agitated state. And we know that something took place last that involved Darren, Tony Hett and an unknown number of others.”

  “Who else was there?” Liz asked.

  “We’re working on that,” Dina replied. “We’ve interviewed a witness who observed the events at Tony Hett’s house.”

  “You found a witness?” Liz sat up in the chair. “Tell me who it was!”

  “I can’t do that,” Dina said. “I just want to assure you that we will do everything possible to find Darren and make sure that he’s safe.”

  “Who saw him?” Liz asked.

  I walked closer and knelt down. “Liz? Detective Kincaid can’t share that information with you at this point. And even though we both know how hard this is for you, the best thing that you can do right now is help us develop a list of anyone that Darren might turn to for help.”

  She stared at me silently.

  “And the other thing that you can do,” I continued, “is go home and wait to see if he reaches out to you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “He’s got my car,” she said in a dazed voice. “How am I going to get home?”

  “I can have an officer take you,” said Dina. “Would that be okay?”

  Liz nodded, but her eyes were glazed and unfocused.

  “You’ve been up all night, right?” I asked.

  “I guess so,” she answered, looking at her bare wrist. “I don’t even know what time it is.”

  “It’s around ten,” Dina said. “And if you’ll do me a favor and stay here with Katie, I’ll call dispatch and ask them to send someone to take you home. I’ll come by your house later in the day so we can talk after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. How does that sound?”

  Liz smiled. “It’s fine. I just want Darren to be okay.”

  “And that’s what we want, too,” I said, getting to my feet. “Would you like to come inside and wait until the officer arrives?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine here. Thank you, Katie.” She turned slightly toward Dina. “And thank you, Detective Kincaid. This whole thing is a nightmare. I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and discover that none of it was real. But I guess that’s not going to happen.”

  “No, it’s not,” Dina said, pulling out her phone. “But like I told you, we’ll do everything within our power to find Darren as soon as possible.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The line at the cash register in Target was a snarl of pouty faces, screaming toddlers and silver-haired matrons glaring angrily at everyone between them and the befuddled young guy checking out customers. It was seven o’clock that night. I’d taken a break from the search for Darren Rigby to run a couple of quick errands before Zack arrived home from work.

  “What’s the holdup?” said a voice behind me. “Is the cashier adding and subtracting because the system is down?”

  When I turned around, I discovered that the inquisitive shopper was Viveca England, my neighbor and good friend. She was pushing a shopping cart loaded with bags of salty snacks, boxes of paper napkins and a dozen six-packs of sparkling water. Her long light brown hair was tucked under a red beret, she was dressed in a stunning black pantsuit and her lips were a glossy pink.

  “Be nice,” I said. “He’s doing the best he can.”

  One of her eyebrows went north. “Is that so?”

  “What are you up to?” I motioned at the loot in her cart: pretzels, potato chips, beef jerky, mixed nuts and crackers. “Blowing your diet?”

  She shook her head. “Antonio and I are hosting game night at my house. I figured this assortment would please most people.”

  “Game night?” I frowned. “I haven’t heard about that. I guess Zack and I didn’t make the cut, huh?”

  She swatted in my direction with one hand. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re at the top of the list. I haven’t emailed the invitations yet.”

  “Then why all the snacks?”

  She gazed down at the pile of colorful bags and boxes.

  “Getting ready,” she answered. “I’m leaving again for Puerto Vallarta in a couple of days. Then I have a trip
to New Orleans with a client from Salt Lake City. And then Antonio’s taking me to Vancouver for a long romantic weekend.”

  “Can I go?” I teased.

  She giggled. “Hey! That’s a fabulous idea! Bring Zack. We could make it a double date!”

  I shook my head. “I was just kidding. You guys deserve a nice getaway.”

  “We all do!” Viveca said brightly. “Especially you, Katie. You get up so early six days a week. You spend hours and hours on your feet. And you have to deal with grumps and grouches all day long.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “But it sounds like your business is really going gangbusters.”

  “I’m blessed,” she replied. “And I’m so very grateful. When I went into interior design, I had no idea whether I could even make a go of it. And now…” She rolled her eyes playfully. “…it’s almost more than I can handle.”

  “But your assistant helps,” I said.

  “She’s amazing! But the two of us are having trouble keeping up with everything.”

  “Maybe you should hire a junior designer,” I suggested. “You could look for someone coming out of school or with a couple of years of experience.”

  “I’ve thought about that,” she said.

  “Maybe you should try it.”

  She nodded. “Maybe so. But first, I have to get this stuff home and put everything away. We’re meeting Blanche and Boris for dinner at Thai Orchid.”

  “Oh, that’s exciting! I heard their new chef overhauled the menu.”

  “She did!” Viveca said. “And it’s all fabulous! I went in with my client from Aspen when she drove up to look at some sketches for a custom living room sofa.”

  My eyes went wide. “You’re designing furniture now?”

  She nodded. “But don’t tell anyone. I promised Maureen that I would do it just this once. I mean, I might consider more of it down the road. But right now, I want to focus on interiors.”

  “Mums the word,” I promised. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “And speaking of that,” Viveca said, “did you hear anything about the guy from California? Is it true that he was beaten up by mob enforcers because of gambling debts?”

  “Are you talking about Tony Hett?”

  She nodded. “I heard that he’s in deep doo-doo with the mafia.”

  “I haven’t heard that particular story,” I said. “But it doesn’t surprise me that rumors are making the rounds.”

  “Okay,” Viveca said. “Then maybe the person that told me about the gambling debts got it wrong.”

  “Who was it?” I asked.

  “Antonio,” she said. “He was talking to another teacher at the high school.”

  “Well, as far as I’ve heard,” I replied, “the incident at Tony Hett’s wasn’t related to gambling debts.”

  “It has to be something really shady,” she said. “I hope it’s a good sign that he wasn’t killed right then and there. The other teacher also said he heard that Darren and Tony were taken to an old farmhouse outside of town to be held for ransom. If their companies and families don’t pay, the kidnappers will cut off an ear and send it in the mail to prove that they’re serious.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “I heard that’s something the mob does in Italy.”

  I cringed. “I hope none of that happens to Darren and Tony,” I said. “Best case scenario, ransom demands will be delivered within another day or two.”

  “And the worst case?”

  “There are no ransom demands,” I said. “And neither Tony nor Darren are ever seen or heard from again.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I was at the center island in the Sky High kitchen the next afternoon, slowly piping bright pink rosettes onto a cake for the upcoming sixth birthday of a friend’s daughter, when Dina called from her office.

  “Yikes!” I looked at Julia, busy cleaning the front line after a hectic final rush of late lunch customers. “Can you do me a favor?”

  She knew what I was asking, since we’d been through the same drill a thousand times before. I watched attentively as she hurried over and answered the phone before it went to voicemail.

  “You’ve reached the telephone of Dame Katie Reed,” Julia said in a wobbly British brogue. “I do beg your pardon, but m’lady is indisposed at the moment with—” Her eyes bulged. “Yes, yes,” she said, dropping the accent as her face turned beet-red. “Sorry about that, Dina.”

  I put down the pastry bag and took the phone.

  “Good afternoon, Detective Kincaid.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I don’t have much time, Katie. Sorry to be so short with Jules, but I’m in a rush and wanted to give you a quick heads-up.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” I said. “She’s a tough cookie. What’s going on?”

  “The techs at the lab had some interesting test results for me this morning,” she said. “They’re still working on a few final things, but I’m calling to clear up something that’s been resolved.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “What is it?”

  “Remember the blood found at Tony Hett’s house?”

  “Did they get a DNA match?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “It was from a pig.” She paused to let the news sink in. “And I’m talking literally, Katie, not figuratively. To be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised. I know that some folks in town dislike Mr. Hett, and I’ve heard more than one person describe his behavior as piggish.”

  “So the scene was staged?” I asked.

  “That would be a fair guess,” she said. “We also found a glass jar on the side of the road about a half mile from the crime scene. No fingerprints, but the initial analysis matches the fluids in the jar with the trail of droplets found in Hett’s house.”

  “That’s a brilliant stroke of luck,” I said. “How’d that happen so quickly?”

  “The jar landed in the grass directly beneath a streetlight,” she told me. “Whoever was trying to get rid of the evidence did a pretty lousy job of it.”

  “But that also suggests that neither Tony nor Darren was roughed up at the scene,” I said.

  “But it raises the obvious question,” Dina replied. “Why would someone want us to think that they had been injured?”

  “Has anyone at Hett’s company received a ransom demand?” I asked. “If the rumors are true that he likes to play fast and loose with money, maybe he staged a kidnapping in order to bilk his company of some loot.”

  “Why would he do that?” she asked. “That’s like robbing the left hand to pay the right.”

  “Unless he has insurance for that sort of thing,” I told her. “I remember a case that Rodney and I worked in Chicago. It involved a business owner who was in serious financial trouble. He took out a corporate policy for kidnap and ransom coverage, but his wife blew the whistle when he wouldn’t give her any of the proceeds.”

  “I haven’t heard of that kind of insurance,” Dina said.

  “It’s pretty standard for corporate executives these days,” I said. “Since Tony Hett is a high profile type with regular travel overseas, I wouldn’t be surprised if his company had that sort of protection for him.”

  “Well, as far as I’ve heard, no ransom demands have come in,” Dina said. “Whatever is going on here, we’ll know more once we find Darren Rigby, Tony Hett and anyone else who was at the house during the incident.”

  “Any leads?” I asked. “Beyond Porky Pig’s vein juice.”

  She sighed. “You have such a way with words, my friend.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m a little punchy. We did eighty covers at lunch.”

  “That’s a lot for a day like this,” she said. “Doesn’t bad weather usually have a negative impact on people going out to eat?”

  “What can I say?” I asked. “We both work in industries that can be confounding and unpredictable.”

  “Funny,” Dina replied. “One of the uniformed officers at the Milwaukee PD described Graham Rankin the same way:
confounding and unpredictable. I later found that exact description in notes from his arrest a couple of years ago for forging checks.”

  “You lost me,” I said. “Who’s that?”

  “Sorry,” she replied. “I’m back to the evidence we found at Tony Hett’s place. During the initial sweep of the property, we found a phone that belongs to Graham Rankin on the ground about twenty feet from the front door. Based on the eyewitness testimony, that’s near where the two perps parked their SUV with the broken left taillight.”

  “Ah, I get it,” I said. “You think Mr. Rankin dropped the phone before he and his partner abducted Tony Hett and Darren Rigby.”

  “Before,” she said, “or after. At the moment, it’s hard to know which is accurate. But the witness told us where the SUV was parked, so we checked there early on.”

  “Anything helpful on the phone?” I asked.

  “A trove of information,” Dina answered. “We’re looking for Mr. Rankin now so we can ask why his phone was at the scene of an apparent double abduction.”

  “What do you know about him so far?” I asked.

  “Based on the address book,” she said, “good old Graham knows a lot of women, many of whom are in his contact list with their places of employment beside their names.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Well, there’s a young lady named Kiki who works at The Boom Boom Room in Detroit,” Dina said. “And another of his gal pal’s who goes by Lady Lorelei. She works at an establishment in Milwaukee called Big Lou’s Showgirls.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So Graham doesn’t sound like the kind of chap who’ll be in church on Sunday.”

  “Probably not,” Dina said. “But you know what my Aunt Cece said about that, right?”

  I felt a twinge of shame. “Are you referring to ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’?”

  She giggled. “No, not that. Aunt Cece always said, ‘We go to church on Saturday night so we can miss the gabby ladies with the squeaky shoes on Sunday.’”