by Mary Maxwell
CHAPTER 33
As I drove back to Crescent Creek with the fresh cherry-cranberry kringle on the passenger seat and an old Eagles CD playing in the background, I thought about Darren and Sheila Rigby. They’d lived in the house beside Sky High Pies for years, but I didn’t know either of them well. They came in for lunch or breakfast at last once a month, and I delivered special orders to their offices for quarterly staff meetings, Christmas parties and annual Fourth of July customer appreciation picnic.
But they now seemed like curious enigmas, a pair of interlocking puzzles, strangers. Since I still had more than an hour to drive, I decided to give Courteney Cacchione a quick call. She’d worked for Darren and Sheila’s company for the past few years, so I hoped she might be able to provide at least a sketch of the couple.
After checking the phone to make sure I had a signal, I dialed Courteney’s home number.
“Katie?” she said a moment later. “Did you call to tease me about forgetting to pay my bill again?”
I laughed. A few weeks earlier, Courteney had ordered a half dozen pies for a family reunion. When she came to pick them up, I’d stepped into the kitchen for a split second, but she was gone when I returned. She’d been so frazzled by the thought of her ten siblings and their children coming to town that she mistakenly thought she’d already settled the bill.
“No, no,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about Sheila and Darren if you can spare a few minutes.”
“Oh, golly,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Such a bizarre situation, isn’t it?”
“I completely agree. Have you talked to Sheila?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I left her a message, but haven’t heard back yet.”
“I did the same thing,” I said.
“I also went by the house,” Courteney added. “But a really rude you-know-what that rhymes with rich answered the door.”
“Did she have pink hair?” I asked.
Courteney gasped softly. “She did! Do you know who I’m talking about?”
“Her name’s Deb,” I said.
“Did you meet her, too?”
“Briefly. I guess she came up to lend support to Sheila after what happened with Darren.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Courteney said.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Of course, Katie. What is it?”
“How have things been around the office during the past few weeks? I’ve heard some rumblings about trouble between Darren and Sheila.”
Courteney yelped. “Talk about negative energy! Trouble’s been brewing between those two ever since that Tony Hett guy approached them with a proposal to buy the company.”
“I thought they’d agreed to sell,” I said. “Isn’t that the story?”
“He had,” Courteney answered. “But Sheila wasn’t convinced that it was the right move for them. And every time she argued for keeping the business and staying in Crescent Creek, Tony Hett would throw another million bucks on the table.”
“How did Darren react to that?”
“Are you kidding?” she said with another laugh. “He was livid at Sheila, but thrilled with the extra money. But it didn’t seem to matter because Sheila held her ground! And that Tony Hett’s more stubborn than a mule. He started badgering Darren and telling him that if he couldn’t get ‘the little woman,’ and those were his exact words, to change her mind then the deal was off. I couldn’t believe some of the names that Tony called Darren either. Just terrible, foul things.” She paused, sighing into the phone again. “But none of that matters now. I heard late yesterday from someone at the company that Tony told Darren to take a hike, so nobody wins.”
And there it was: a possible motive for Tony Hett’s murder. If he’d withdrawn the offer for Rigby Engineering due to the squabbles between Darren and Sheila, at least one person had a reason to kill the guy.
“You still there?” Courteney asked.
“Yes, I’m here. I was just thinking about something.”
She whimpered into the phone.
“Me, too,” she said after a long silence. “I’m thinking about how sad and awful it is that Darren’s disappeared. I already miss not seeing his big, silly grin every morning at work.”
“You’re not alone,” I said, hoping to quell a little of her anxiety. “We all miss him.”
“Do you think the police will figure out what happened?” she asked.
“No question about that,” I answered. “It’s just a matter of time.”
CHAPTER 34
Harper slipped into the office at Sky High the next morning while I was finishing a call with a sales rep from a company that sold beef and poultry products. She stood near the door for a few seconds before walking over and sitting in one of the guest chairs. Then she began drumming her fingertips beside an old coffee cup crammed with ballpoints and pencils; it was a gentle pitter-patter that started quietly and blossomed into a syncopated concerto.
“Sorry,” she whispered when she caught me staring at her artfully manicured nails. “Your mother’s on hold.”
I twirled my gaze to the solitary blinking light on the phone base. Then I winked at Harper and thanked her for letting me know. She slowly returned to her feet and stretched her arms overhead. Then she leaned down, added a loud encore to her fingernail opus and hurried out of the room.
“I’m not getting any younger,” my mother snapped when I switched to her call.
“Sorry,” I said. “But I’m trying to run a business.”
“And you’re doing rather well, sweetheart!” she said proudly. “At least, that’s what I hear from my girlfriends up there.”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“Don’t be silly,” she answered. “I’m not about to give up my confidential sources. That kind of information is hard-won and precious.”
“Like every last one of your gray hairs when I was growing up?”
She chuckled. “Exactly like that, dear. But don’t think that part of my life is over. Did Zack give you my message about your brother?”
“Yes,” I said. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“I did,” she replied. “But I prefer to kvetch over the phone. Typing with those little keys takes too long.”
“It goes faster if you use both thumbs instead of one finger.”
“Thank you, dear. But I prefer to do things my way.”
I wanted to say, Oh, brother. Do you ever! But I settled for something less confrontational. I didn’t have time for a maternal meltdown; there were six more orders to finish before the end of the day, and I promised Zack that I’d meet him at Food Town at six o’clock.
“What do you think about Brody?”
“I’m happy for him,” I said. “He’s been looking for the right woman for a long time.”
My mother hissed a sigh. “Since kindergarten!” she said. “And he’s about as mature today as he was back then.”
“Now, now,” I said gently. “He’s a bit untraditional in just about every way, so I don’t see why marriage would be any different.”
“That’s true,” she replied. “But it doesn’t make it right.”
“So it’s wrong for Brody and his bride to do what they choose?”
“Did you even know he was dating this woman?”
I laughed. “He and I don’t really talk that often.”
“That wasn’t my question,” she said brusquely. “Did you know that he and Danielle broke up?”
“That was two years ago,” I said.
“It was?” She sounded genuinely shocked. “I thought they were still going out.”
“Olivia talked to him about six weeks ago,” I said, “but he didn’t mention anything about a new girlfriend.”
“Then what did they talk about?”
“He wanted to borrow money,” I said.
“Again? We just loaned him five thousand to start his new business.”
“That was generous of you,” I said.
“Your fa
ther and I talked about it for a long time,” she said. “Olivia’s established in her profession. You’re guiding Sky High into the future. But Brody has been struggling, so we wanted to help.”
“Like I said, that was very kind and generous.”
“But eloping to Mexico?” Her voice rocketed from calm to full-on freak show by the end of the question. “And not inviting any family members? I just think that’s selfish.”
“I can understand how you might feel that way,” I said. “But don’t take it personally. Brody and his new bride have every right to—”
“We don’t even know the woman’s last name yet!”
“You don’t?”
She sputtered a few sentences so quickly that they became a soggy word salad.
“I didn’t really catch that,” I said when she finished.
“Good!” my mother replied. “Because it wasn’t very nice. And I’m sorry for being upset. But we’re his parents. And he’s our child. Didn’t he consider us when he decided to just buy a couple of airplane tickets and jump on the next flight?”
“Was it really that spontaneous?”
“According to my sources,” she said.
“And you’re still not going to tell me, right?”
She didn’t answer.
“Did you call him?” I asked.
“Who?” she said, sounding like a pouting child.
“You know who,” I said. “If you call Brody and talk to him, it might help smooth out some of the wrinkles.”
“Don’t say that word!” she squawked. “You know that I hate it more than almost anything, Katie!”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “It’s hard to keep track of them all. But I do think it would be helpful to talk to Brody.”
“I left him a message,” she said.
“It can sometimes take a while to hear back,” I replied. “He doesn’t check his phone as often as we do.”
“Well, I’ll talk to him about that,” she said with a snippy twang, “as soon as he returns my call!”
CHAPTER 35
I was the only customer at Java & Juice that afternoon around five. I was huddled at a table with my laptop, a cup of coffee and a list of questions about the Darren Rigby-Tony Hett case.
The first one was obvious: Where is Darren? After he’d inexplicably vanished from the office at Sky High Pies with his sister’s car and a foggy memory about the night before, I’d talked to a few people around town during the day who knew Darren personally or professionally. Everyone was deeply concerned about his well-being and shocked to hear the news about his disappearance if they hadn’t yet, but no one had a clue as to his whereabouts.
“Did you try his assistant?” Pearl White had asked when I stopped at her clothing store. “If Sheila’s out of town, Liz might know where he’d go to clear his head.”
I had explained the role that Liz Winchester had played the night immediately before Darren disappeared. Then I’d asked Pearl to call me if she heard anything. And then I’d thought about dropping two hundred bucks on the outfit displayed in the front window.
“You’d look so cute in that, Katie,” she said as I stared lovingly at the matching blazer and slacks. “Don’t you agree? Add the pale blue sweater with a scoop neck that’s on sale and you’re ready to roll.”
“Thanks for the kind words,” I’d answered. “But Zack and I are saving for some new furniture for the apartment. We’re starting to recover a little bit from the wedding and honeymoon expenses, so feathering our nest is the next big ticket item.”
“Well, I’ll keep both things in mind,” she’d said, giving me a hug. “I’ll let you know about any special sales coming up, and I’ll discreetly ask if anyone’s seen the elusive Mr. Rigby.”
The next question on my list was also readily apparent: Why did Darren vanish? And even though I could propose any number of reasons, the truth was impossible to know.
As I thought about the possibilities, even more questions came forth: Was it fear? If so, that would be entirely logical. Why did someone drug Darren at Tony Hett’s house? Why did they detail him briefly, but keep Tony? And who else might—
My phone rang as I added the last few thoughts to my list. It was Dina, so I stopped typing and scooped up the phone.
“Am I interrupting anything important?” she asked.
“I’m at Java & Juice,” I said. “Noodling on the Rigby-Hett case.”
“And?” Her voice edged up hopefully. “Any big aha moments?”
“So far, it’s mostly questions,” I answered. “I know things will become clear in due time, but none of this makes much sense.”
“For example?” Dina said.
“Why did Rigby go all the way out to Hett’s ranch?” I began. “Why didn’t he just call if he wanted to discuss Tony’s offer to buy Rigby Engineering? Not to mention that any questions from Darren and Sheila were supposed to go through their attorney or the business broker that Hett’s been using.”
“Right,” she said. “But isn’t it possible that Tony had invited Darren out so they could sit down face-to-face and discuss things?”
“Anything’s possible,” I said. “But from what I’ve heard, the differences were between Darren and Sheila. He wanted to sell, but she wasn’t convinced.”
“Yet,” Dina said with a soft snicker. “Tony Hett doesn’t like to lose. He’s been known to throw another million at a transaction when it hits a snag.”
“And so…” I paused. “You think that maybe Tony lured Darren out there to increase the bid while Sheila was in Vegas?”
“I don’t know if he lured Darren,” she said. “The menu was beer and pizza, not foie gras and filet mignon.”
“Simple man, simple tastes,” I said.
“Darren Rigby is not a simple man,” Dina said. “I like the guy, but he’s more than capable of being prickly, especially when he doesn’t feel that he’s getting his way.”
“Says who?”
She laughed again. “You want a list?”
“Not really,” I said. “I just want the truth, followed closely by justice.”
“As do I,” said Dina. “But we’ve got a long way to go before we have either. Right now, we’ve got—”
“A bunch of unanswered questions,” I said quickly. “Thus, I’m here with my list of unknowns and a nagging feeling that something’s getting ready to run off the rails.”
“Based on what?”
“Darren Rigby’s behavior,” I said. “He can be a bit of a control freak, but he’s not a rash, spontaneous guy. He’s predictable and disciplined. I mean, he’s wound so tightly that you can bounce a quarter off of him.”
“No, thank you,” Dina replied with another laugh. “The only things that I want to bounce off Darren Rigby at the moment are a bunch of—”
“I know,” I cut in again. “Questions.”
“Stop doing that, Katie! It’s annoying. And I’m not in the mood.”
I smiled. Since we were teenagers, we’d developed a conversational style that often made other people jumpy. We completed one another’s sentences, finished our thoughts and generally acted like identical twins born to separate mothers a few months apart. In the madness of the world, with the increasing pace and pressure, it was good to know that I had more than one truly authentic and loyal friend.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“It’s okay.”
“Do you have any good news about the investigation?” I asked.
“Cherry frosting,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The techs found traces of cherry frosting at both crime scenes,” she explained. “And before you say anything, I’m not suggesting that you or Sky High had anything to do with it.”
“I know that,” I said.
“Good,” Dina replied. “It just seems a little…I don’t know, too close to home or something.”
“Because of the frosting?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, suddenly sounding a
bit apprehensive. “You run a bakery. You sell cherry things. And we found cherry frosting in Tony Hett’s house and Darren Rigby’s hotel room.”
“Take a breath,” I said. “I know you weren’t pointing a finger at me, Julia or Harper.”
“Okay.”
I waited a few seconds. Then I asked if she was better.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little on edge. I didn’t know Tony Hett, but I really like Sheila. I can’t stop thinking of what she must be going through.”
“Lots of confusion,” I said quietly. “Probably a little anger and rage.”
“At Darren?”
“No, no,” I said. “At the situation. They’d been having some fairly intense conversations about the business lately, but I’ve never known either of them to hold a grudge or stay mad. They’ve both made little comments here and there about how they handle disagreements at the office.”
“Did they really?”
“Sure,” I answered. “Since Sky High Pies and Rigby Engineering are both family businesses, I think they found comfort getting my opinion about certain things.”
“Such as?”
“Just how family members resolve disputes when they work together,” I said.
“And?”
“What?” I said. “You want a lesson right now?”
“Not so much a lesson. I’m just wondering if you detected any subtext when Darren or Sheila talked with you about their difficulties at the company.”
“What are you getting at?” I said. “Do you think Sheila had something to do with Darren’s kidnapping and Tony’s death?”
When Dina didn’t say anything immediately, I knew the answer.
“What is it?” I went on. “Did you find something that implicates her?”
“There was something regarding her trip to Las Vegas,” Dina said.
“What happened?” I asked with a nervous laugh. “Did she win big at the casino and runaway from home?”
Dina blew out a loud breath. “That would be much less complicated,” she said. “The problem with Sheila’s weekend trip with her girlfriends is that it was a lie.”