The Cherry Chip Murders

by Mary Maxwell

The corners of her mouth turned south. “Yuck! Can I please have a cup of your strongest coffee? I woke up at three o’clock this morning and never went back to sleep.”

  “Something on your mind?” I asked.

  She rolled her soft brown eyes back in her head. “Len insisted on tacos and ice cream after we got out of the movies last night. Whenever he eats spicy food and dairy before bed, I suffer the consequences.”

  “Snoring?”

  She nodded. “And gas. I moved to the guest room at some point because my paint respirator clashes with my nightgown.” She snickered. “Just teasing, Katie. I love that man dearly, but he reeks worse than a toxic waste dump after he puts that combination in his tummy.”

  “My condolences,” I said. “Do you want the coffee in a to-go cup?”

  “Yes, please,” Kiera said. “I’m getting ready to run a few errands around town, so a little pick-me-up seemed like a good idea.”

  “Smart woman,” I said. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

  “Thanks, Katie.” She reached into the backpack that doubled as her purse. “Can I also please get half a dozen chocolate chip scones?”

  “Coming right up,” I said. “Julia made a fresh batch earlier, so I’ll grab six of those for you.”

  When I returned to the counter a few minutes later, Kiera was on her phone. She had one hand cupped around her mouth, although she was whispering so quietly that it didn’t seem necessary.

  “Sorry about that,” she said when she finished. “Have you heard the latest about Darren’s kidnapping?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “What have you heard?”

  She flashed a naughty grin. “It’s only a matter of time,” she said.

  “Before what?” I asked.

  “I’m just surprised that none of us caught on before this,” she went on. “There’s something fishy going on over at Darren and Sheila’s house, but I don’t know if they’re selling drugs, running an illegal casino or dealing in stolen goods.”

  “What have you seen?”

  “And heard,” she said. “I’ve noticed all kinds of varmints over there at all hours of the day and night.”

  “What kinds of varmints?” I asked.

  “Scruffy ones,” she said with a grin. “And pretty ones.”

  I laughed. “That could be half the people in town.”

  “That’s true,” Kiera replied. “But none of these people live here in Crescent Creek. I was just talking to Ruby from my gardening club. She told me that Sheila was at the drive-thru lane at the bank this morning with another woman.”

  “You’re talking about Sheila Rigby?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that who you’re talking about,” said Kiera. “Sheila and Darren?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but I was under the impression that Sheila was still in Las Vegas.”

  “I trust Ruby’s word,” she said. “And her eyes. If it was me, I’d be questioning it since I can barely see the end of my own nose. But if Ruby’s telling me that she saw Sheila, I’m going to take that as the gospel truth.”

  “Did she tell you what Sheila and the other woman were doing?”

  Kiera nodded. “She told me that they made a sizable withdrawal from one of her accounts, and asked for only small bills. You know how the speakers at the bank squawk pretty loudly? Well, that allowed Ruby to hear at least half of Sheila’s conversation with the teller.”

  “Did they take the money out of Sheila’s account or the other woman’s?”

  “Sheila’s,” said Kiera. “And from the description that Ruby gave me, I’d guess Sheila was accompanied by the woman with pink hair that I’ve seen at the house recently.”

  “If it is the same one,” I said, “I met her the other day. She’s Darren’s cousin from Ohio. I believe she told me that her name was Deb.”

  Kiera suddenly clapped her hands together. “See, Katie? Fishy! Darren Rigby doesn’t have a cousin named Deb.”

  “It’s possible that I got the name wrong,” I said. “Maybe I should get my hearing checked.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “Darren doesn’t have any cousins because he was an orphan. To my knowledge, he’s never been successful tracking down anyone from his biological family.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles,” she said. “One time when Sheila and I went for coffee, we got to talking about families and genealogy. I was interested in tracing my roots because I’d just watched a show on PBS. I asked Sheila if she saw the program, but she hadn’t. I strongly recommended it, but then she said the whole subject of genealogy was off limits on account of Darren didn’t know a thing about his family history. He was adopted by a married couple in Cincinnati a few weeks after he was born. They moved to Colorado when he was six or seven, first to Aurora and then up here when his adopted father got a job with the Bureau of Land Management.”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” I said. “If Darren doesn’t have any cousins, I wonder who Deb might be.”

  “Maybe she’s involved in Darren’s embezzling scheme.”

  “Oh?”

  “I heard that one the other day,” Kiera explained. “I ran into Penny Murdoch at Pearl’s shop. I needed to buy a new outfit for a special occasion, and she was in there returning a sweater that her husband gave her for their anniversary. The poor thing. They’ve been married twenty years and he still thinks she wears a small.”

  “Is that what size she wore when they met?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Kiera answered. “But Penny has told him time and again that she prefers large shirts and sweaters. And just to be clear, that’s not because of weight or anything; it’s because she loathes tight-fitting clothing.”

  “Probably why she doesn’t own any bras, huh?”

  Kiera giggled. “Probably. But while we were in the store, she told me a couple of other juicy rumors about Darren Rigby.”

  I smiled. “I love juicy rumors.”

  “Who doesn’t?” She put one hand beside her mouth. “People are saying that Darren murdered Tony Hett because he couldn’t handle the fact that Sheila had fallen in love with the guy. Also, Tony supposedly called 911 to report that Darren was battering down the front door with one of the chairs from his porch. Well, I heard that after he got inside, Darren pulled a switchblade and stabbed Tony more than a hundred times.”

  “Who told Penny that story?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Sworn to secrecy. I promise everyone that I’ll keep my lips sealed. And that’s good thing, because I’d lose track of who told me what if I had to confess it all. In fact, I heard one last snippet of tawdry trash about Darren just a few minutes before I came over to see you.”

  “What was that rumor?”

  “Besides being upset that his wife was having an affair with Tony,” she said, “Darren also snapped when Hett threatened to expose shocking secrets from the past. My friend didn’t have any details, but she seemed pretty convinced that something Darren did came back to haunt him.”

  “Like your husband and the late-night snack?”

  She giggled. “Not that kind of haunting! I’m talking about having his dirty laundry strung up for the whole world to see.”

  “Ah, okay,” I said. “And I’d agree with you completely. I don’t think anybody wants to see Darren’s laundry flapping around, whether it’s clean or dirty.”

  CHAPTER 41

  A vase of white and yellow roses decorated with a large red bow sat on the porch beside the front door at Darren and Sheila Rigby’s house. A gift card was attached: Sheena Rigby. I smiled at the error, noticing that the bouquet was from Petals by Pauline Floral Design. When it came to flowers, Pauline Cragen was talented and gifted. But with spelling? Not so much.

  I leaned down, picked up the vase and knocked on the door. It opened slowly a moment later to reveal Darren’s so-called cousin with the pink hair.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “These were beside t
he door,” I said, holding out the flowers.

  “Aha!” She took the vase and put it on the credenza just inside the door. “That explains the doorbell while I was on the phone.”

  “Is Sheila here?”

  The woman smiled. “Don’t I wish? I’ve been fielding calls and deliveries for her nonstop. I can hardly get any of my work done.”

  “Speaking of that subject,” I said, “I went by Ultra Violet the other day.”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “Looking for self-defense classes?”

  I shook my head.

  “Can’t imagine that you’d need them around here,” she added. “This place is sleepy and safe.”

  I smiled. “Unless you’re Darren Rigby.”

  Her response was a silent nod.

  “And speaking of that,” I said, “I also heard something interesting the other day.”

  She crossed her arms. “I hear something interesting every day.”

  “Can we cut to the chase?” I asked.

  She smiled. “That would be much appreciated.”

  “Did you know that Darren was an orphan?”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak.

  “Well, it’s true,” I went on. “He’s an orphan. Over the years, he’s tried to find his biological relatives, but the search has been fruitless.”

  “Look,” the woman said. “I can explain everything.”

  “Is your real name Violet?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And Liz Winchester is your sister, right?”

  She answered with a nod. “That’s her married name. She’s divorced, but decided not to change back to Liz Martin.”

  “Does she have a nickname?”

  The woman grinned. “Yeah. It’s Junebug.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I was determined to keep as calm as possible, but her quizzical grin and casual tone was beginning to fray my nerves.

  “Well, I’m really quite confused about what game you’re playing here,” I said. “Someone told me that you and Sheila were seen together in town this morning. And yet, when I came over the other day, you made it—”

  A floorboard squeaked somewhere inside the house.

  “You made it seem like she—”

  “Katie?”

  Sheila Rigby suddenly appeared in the foyer, peering at me with a sad, mournful look in her eyes.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” she said. “I can explain why Violet was carrying on the charade for the past few days.”

  “It’s really good to see you,” I said, stepping across the threshold. “How are you doing?”

  She shook her head, turned around and walked toward the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about all of this,” Violet said quietly as we followed Sheila down the hall. “But I think you’ll understand once you hear what’s been going on.”

  Less than ten minutes later, I not only understood why Sheila had asked her friend to pretend to be Darren’s nonexistent cousin, but I felt my heart slowly breaking as I sipped a cup of tea and listened to my neighbor.

  “I hate to be less than truthful,” Sheila said for the second time since she started talking. “But I hate it even more when other people do it on my behalf.”

  “Sometimes that’s necessary,” I said.

  “Well, it was the best choice in this situation,” Sheila said. “You see, Katie, I wasn’t in Las Vegas at all. I was at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota getting a second opinion about a cancer diagnosis that Dr. Wilson gave me last month. I told folks that I was at a convention because I didn’t want to deal with a bunch of questions before I’d even learned the answers myself.”

  I took a breath. “Oh, Sheila. I’m so, so sorry to hear that news.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I’m sorry again for the deception. It’s just that…” She stopped to take a sip of tea. “Things between Darren and I have been more than a little rocky lately. We took the trip to Europe in the hopes that it would help resolve the friction between us about selling the company. I didn’t want to accept Tony Hett’s offer, but he did.”

  When she paused again to drink more tea, I glanced at Violet on the other side of the table. She smiled, but it was fleeting. I’d been so ready to lecture her about honesty, but now felt grateful that she’d been able to help Sheila with what was undoubtedly one of the most difficult times of her life.

  “If I’m going to be completely honest,” Sheila continued, “I should let you know that Darren moved to an apartment the day after we returned from our trip. Not only has he been fighting me bitterly about the sale of our company, but he’s also been finding his own sort of comfort in the arms of another woman.”

  Violet scoffed. “She’s talking about my sister.”

  I nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “I really had no idea that Darren and Liz were romantically involved until I found an email on his work computer after we returned from Europe,” said Sheila. “In fact, I guess the truth is that my husband had become a stranger in the past year. Until the last few months, our company always did quite well. But Darren’s appetite for extravagance and luxury spiraled out of control. That was why I initially agreed to talk with Tony Hett. It seemed like selling was the only way out of the financial nightmare that Darren had created. But then I changed my mind because we had worked too hard to turn our dream into reality. Even though the company is in a great deal of debt, I hope that Rigby Engineering can survive. Although now I’m going to be grappling with that nightmare while undergoing chemotherapy and radiation.”

  When she stopped and gazed at me with a peaceful smile, I said, “How can I help?”

  “Oh, you dear heart,” she said, putting one hand against her chest. “I can’t even begin to answer that question today, but it is so kind of you to ask.”

  “I’ll be ready to do whatever you need,” I said. “Day or night. Zack and I love you very much and we’ll be by your side along with all of your other friends and neighbors.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. “I have so much that I want to share with you, but I’m beginning to feel a little dizzy. Maybe we could get together again in a few days?”

  “I would like that very much,” I said. “For now, I’ll see myself out. Just know that we’re all thinking of you.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Sheila said. “You’ve really warmed my heart by being so understanding about everything that we’re dealing with here. Please give Zack a big hug for me, okay?”

  Violet got out of her chair and walked around the table. Then she gently helped Sheila to stand before they began moving toward the next room.

  “See you soon,” Sheila called to me.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  After I stepped outside and heard the door close behind me, I pulled out my phone and dialed Dina’s office number.

  “I was just thinking about you,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Have you got a minute?” I asked. “Because I’m pretty sure that the things I’m about to tell you will help close the Tony Hett case and arrest a few very bad people.”

  Dina was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I’ve got all the time that you need, Katie. Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

  CHAPTER 42

  A week after Darren Rigby, Liz Winchester, Dwight Rankin and Walter “Rooster” Franklin were charged with conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping and more than a dozen other felonies, I walked into Dina’s office at the CCPD Headquarters with a surprise delivery of cherry cupcakes from Klatch & Company in Denver.

  “Are you serious?” she said after opening the box. “I can’t eat these things after the case we just closed.”

  “I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” I said. “But Daria Goodman wanted me to bring these to you.”

  “Is she the woman that makes the kringle?” asked Dina.

  “I think Granny Goodman handles that particular menu item,” I said. “But I stopped in to see Daria
and let her know how things turned out.”

  “That’s kind of her to send the cupcakes,” Dina said. “I wish everything from here on out could be so nice with this case.”

  “Did you run into some trouble with it?” I asked.

  “Not really trouble,” she replied. “It’s more like an onion that keeps revealing unexpected layers.”

  I smiled. “I don’t follow you.”

  “Remember the thumb drive that Darren gave you?”

  “How could I forget?” I said.

  “Well, our Crime Lab techs found two distinct tiers of information on it,” Dina explained. “The first tier, the things that appeared when we initially opened the drive, included various documents, photographs and spreadsheets associated with Tony Hett’s business deals, both legit and nefarious.”

  “So far, so good,” I said. “I mean, shouldn’t you and the Denver PD know about all of his dirty deeds?”

  “Definitely,” Dina said. “And we can also prove that those files were copied to the thumb drive the day after Tony went missing. I suspect that Darren returned to Tony’s house while the Rankin brothers and Rooster kept Hett at the other property that he bought recently. Darren cherry picked things that would paint the worst possible picture of Tony, giving law enforcement a clear snapshot of his illegal acts and deeds during the past ten years or so. In Darren’s skewed view of reality, I think that he planned to use that information as some type of safeguard in case anything went sideways with what he and Liz Winchester were planning. He may have hinted that he wanted to pass that along when he saw you at the steakhouse, but I think he panicked. I think that he gave it to you right then—along with the impression that he was conducting some kind of undercover sting on Leo Leachman and Tony Hett—as a way to deflect from the surprise of you spotting him in public after he’d run out on you at Sky High.”

  “That sounds logical,” I said. “What about the second tier of files? What else was on the thumb drive?”

  “Ah, right,” Dina said. “That’s where the really cool technical stuff comes into play. The second tier included documents that had been deleted. They were all from Rigby Engineering: sales reports, contracts, employee reviews and applications. But that tier also included a series of emails between Darren and Liz. They provide a step-by-step guide to the evolution of the plot.”