Red Velvet, Dead Velvet (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Mary Maxwell

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve had that conversation at Sky High a few times. I’ve decided that Doc Plumb is going to be dissatisfied no matter what.”

  “You got that right!” Edie agreed. “Luckily, Doc’s gripe session last night wasn’t too horrible. I gave him a coupon for five bucks off at Magic Suds so he could get his pickup washed.”

  “Did that calm him down?”

  “Oh, you bet! He’s a sucker for saving money. I learned that trick a long time ago.”

  “And so…Nigel Summerfield?” I asked, getting back on track. “Did he come in right then?”

  “A couple of minutes after that,” Edie answered.

  “Do you remember when he left?”

  She made a little humming sound. “I’d say it was, like, almost eight or so. I remember he asked me two or three times if his sister had called. But she hadn’t. I felt so sorry for Nigel, you know? The look on his face wasn’t just being upset about somebody not showing for dinner. It was worse than that…like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

  “You’re not far from the truth,” I said. “But I appreciate your help, Edie. I knew you’d have the scoop on Nigel’s whereabouts around that time.”

  “His whereabouts? Isn’t that what cops say on TV?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, trying to avoid more questions. “Nigel and I met at Sky High the other morning. We’re trying to set up a time so he can get the scoop on us for an article he’s writing.”

  “Oh, sure! That makes perfect sense! He talked to my brother for a bit last night to do the same thing. I guess he writes about different places in the country to visit on vacation or whatever.”

  “That’s it exactly,” I said. “He’s a travel writer.”

  She sighed. “Doesn’t a vacation sound good right about now?”

  “You have no idea,” I agreed. “But I’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of going anywhere for the next million years.”

  “Oh, Katie! Don’t be silly! You’ll be able to take a break at some point.”

  “I hope so, Edie. For the time being, I should get my rear back to the book fair. My sister’s alone in our booth. I’ve been gone for a couple of hours and still have one more stop before I head back to the Civic Center.”

  Edie made me promise to come in for dinner sometime soon. I told her that I would suggest the Matchstick to Zack. Then I wished Edie a good afternoon, dropped the phone into my purse and drove across town to the offices of Eugene Crisp Realtors. When I walked through the door, a young woman that I’d never met was sitting behind the reception desk.

  “Are you Samantha?” she asked.

  “Uh, no…” I smiled. “My name’s Kate Reed. Is Mr. Crisp available?”

  While she added me to a long list on a piece of paper, I glanced at the nameplate on her desk: SUZEE DIRNHOFER.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Reed,” she said once the task was complete. “I was expecting someone named Samantha to stop by for pricing sheets on a new listing.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Is Eugene around?”

  She shook her head. “Mr. Crisp isn’t here at the moment.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t. He drove up to Fort Collins on a family matter.”

  I winced. “Oh, no. Is it Hudson?”

  I knew that Eugene Crisp’s son was a freshman at Colorado State. I was also aware that Hudson had been indulging in more than his fair share of Jägermeister shots and six-packs of beer.

  “I’m not really comfortable talking about Mr. Crisp’s personal affairs,” Suzee said.

  “Of course, sure.” I nodded gravelly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” the woman said. “Hudson calls here half in the bag about every other day. He may not be doing very well with classes, but he’s got the partying thing down pretty good.” She frowned. “Oh, I…” Her eyes fell to the desk as she sighed loudly. “I guess that wasn’t exactly discreet, was it?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve actually talked with Eugene and Betty about their son a couple of times. I know he’s struggling with being away from home.”

  “Yeah. He’s not real happy with the dorm food and his roommate, so he calls quite a lot.”

  We shared a sad, silent smile before Suzee asked if there was a message for Eugene.

  “Yes, please,” I said. “I’d like to talk with him about Walter Shipp.”

  She frowned slightly. “What about him?”

  “Well, it’s my understanding that Eugene helped Walter buy a little getaway cabin not long ago.”

  The woman stared at me blankly.

  “And I’m actually interested in the other vacant properties that Walter looked at.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Are you looking for a new home, too?”

  I shook my head. “It’s kind of hard to explain. But I’d appreciate it if you could give that message to Eugene and have him call me.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, scribbling on the sheet of paper. “You want Mr. Crisp to show you the vacant properties that he showed to—”

  “You know what?” I interrupted. “Maybe just have him give me a call?”

  She grinned. “That’s probably easier, right?”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “Thanks for your help, Suzee.”

  Her eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’re welcome! I’ll give him a call in a little while to pass along all of his messages. I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you as soon as he can.”

  “That’ll work! Thanks so much for your help.”

  “Oh, no problem.” The young woman giggled. “You wanna know what’s weird?”

  Thousands of possible answers popped into my head, but I decided to keep them to myself.

  “Sure,” I said. “What’s weird?”

  “You’re the second person this week asking me about Walter Shipp.”

  The comment struck a nerve. In a very short period of time, Walter had gone from being someone I saw occasionally at Sky High to the ever-present topic of conversation.

  “Oh, yeah? Who else was curious about him?”

  Suzee frowned. “Um, I don’t know her name,” she said. “But she’s kind of older and sort of snippy.”

  Great, I thought. That could be half the local population. I asked Suzee if she knew the woman’s first name.

  “No, I’m sorry. She didn’t actually come into the office. She called from out of the blue and said she and Mr. Crisp were good friends and he’d want me to tell her which cabin Walter bought.”

  “That’s interesting. She asked about Walter’s cabin?”

  “Uh-huh. And then she also wanted to know the same thing you did.”

  “About the other vacant properties?”

  Suzee’s head bobbed. “Uh-huh. But Mr. Crisp handled that one, too. He’s got all that stuff in his head, like, totally memorized.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Thanks again, Suzee!”

  “Oh, no problem,” she said. “Have a nice day!”

  As I left the real estate office and climbed back into the car, I mulled over the theory that was coming together in my mind about Walter Shipp’s disappearance. One part conspiracy and one part revenge, the premise seemed more than a little plausible. To first-time visitors and new residents, Crescent Creek appeared to be the ideal pastoral mountain village, a paradise of cozy smiles, friendly neighbors and simple pleasures. But the more I thought about it, my little Rocky Mountain hometown also seemed to be a hotbed of guarded secrets, thorny deception and shady intentions.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite client!” Blanche Speltzer cooed after I hurried through the side entrance at the Civic Center.

  I’d received an urgent text from my sister as I pulled into the parking lot—NEED 2 PEE!!! DON’T WANT TO LEAVE BOOTH!!! WHERE ARE U? I’d hoped that avoiding the main entrance would save me a few minutes so I could reach Olivia before s
he went into full meltdown mode, but Blanche was perched on a folding chair near one of the small meeting rooms just inside the door. She was sipping a coffee and reading the newest Janet Evanovich. I walked over, leaned down to give her a hug and asked how she was doing.

  “I’m fine,” the 80-year-old spitfire answered. “My matchmaking service is thriving. I found a new brand of moleskin pads for the bunion on my left foot. And my niece is taking me to Puerto Vallarta for New Year’s Eve!”

  A tiny wave of jealousy flickered through me; escaping winter for a few days in the sun sounded perfect.

  “That’s great, Blanche!” I said. “And I’d love to chat, but Liv needs to—”

  “Your sister’s fine, Kate. I watched the booth while she went to the restroom.”

  “That’s so kind of you.” I wrapped her in another warm hug. “Thanks for coming to Liv’s rescue.”

  Blanche narrowed her gaze. “You owe me one, hon.”

  “Of course. How about lunch next week at Sky High?”

  “You’re on,” she said.

  “How’d your presentation go this morning?” I asked. “You were introducing Rosemary Flannigan, right?”

  A mile-wide smile sparkled on her face. “It was perfection, dear. I’m an old hat when it comes to public speaking. Did I ever tell you about the time I introduced Jackie Collins at a literary event?”

  I shook my head.

  “It was in California,” Blanche continued, “during the years that her sister was on that TV show. My husband and I were—”

  I touched her arm. “I hate to be rude, but I do need to get back to the booth. Maybe you can tell me the story next week?”

  Blanche smirked. “Oh, so now you want to get in the booth? Olivia told me that you’ve been gone for hours.”

  “I had a few errands to run.”

  “Like visiting Velma Short?”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  She lowered her chin. “I know about lots of things, dear. My hearing may not be what it once was. And gravity has been unkind to some parts of my anatomy.” She glanced briefly at her chest and then snickered softly. “But I’ve got the best network of confidantes and colleagues in all of Crescent Creek.”

  I frowned. “Who was it?”

  Blanche laughed again. “Roberta Knight. She’s never driven by a crime scene before, so she was having a look at Walter Shipp’s when she saw you pulling into Velma’s driveway.”

  “Well, she’s right. I did stop to see Velma.”

  “Hmmmm,” Blanche said skeptically. “Just a little social call? In the middle of a busy day?”

  I shook my head. “I wanted to ask her a couple of questions about Walter.”

  “I knew it!” Blanche crowed triumphantly. “When I heard that you were there the night he disappeared, I just felt it in my bones that you were snooping around again.”

  “Who told you I was at Walter’s the other night?”

  The old woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one of my confidantes.”

  “Tessa Breckenridge?”

  Blanche scoffed. “She’s in Vancouver for her grandson’s wedding.”

  I thought for a moment. “Ellen Cotterill?”

  “Nope. She’s already left to spend the winter in San Diego.”

  I started to think of a third name, but realized we could spend hours sifting through Blanche’s seemingly endless list of contacts. After living in Crescent Creek for most of her life, she literally knew everyone.

  “Okay then,” I said. “I’ll be going now.”

  “Giving up pretty easily aren’t you?”

  I smiled and turned to walk away, but Blanche wrapped one bony hand around my wrist. “Hang on there,” she said. “What do you know about Walter Shipp? Has Trent told you if they’ve found his body yet?”

  “His body?”

  “Well, I heard about the death threat,” Blanche told me. “And when word got around town that Walter’s house was ransacked and they found blood, I just assumed one of his victims had gone off the deep end.”

  “One of his victims?”

  She frowned. “Don’t play coy with me, Kate. We both know Walter Shipp made a lot of enemies with his financial improprieties. And even though the investors that lost their money should pursue legal recourse, I think more than a couple of them are capable of murder.”

  I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I guessed it was Olivia, tiptoeing toward the end of her rope.

  “I should get to the booth,” I said. “And I hope you’re wrong about Walter.”

  “You think he’s still alive?”

  “I hope so. He may be a greedy you-know-what, but I hope he’s okay.”

  Blanche rolled her eyes. “Time will tell, hon.”

  As I started to walk away, she grabbed my arm again.

  “By the way,” she said, “I heard about your dinner with Zack Hutton. I’m glad that my matchmaking expertise proved beneficial for you.”

  I smiled. Zack and I had actually met before Blanche recruited us as the first two clients for her fledging dating service. But I didn’t want to spoil the proud gleam in her eye, so I skipped right past the subject.

  “It was a lovely evening,” I said. “I really like Luigi’s a lot.”

  “I guess so! I heard that you plowed right through that Shrimp Fra Diablo like someone who hadn’t eaten in days.” She chuckled. “And, my goodness, Kate! Seven bread sticks?” She leaned to one side and glanced at my hips. “A girl’s got to watch the carbs if she wants to stay svelte and desirable.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Like I said, it was a lovely evening!” I gently tugged my arm from her grip. “And now, Blanche, I really do need to go check on Liv. It was nice running into you. I’ll see you one day next week for lunch at Sky High.”

  CHAPTER 25

  An hour after the book fair closed for the day, Olivia and I were slumped in bright yellow plastic chairs in the aisle beside the Sky High booth.

  “I can’t feel my feet,” she moaned.

  I glanced down. “Kitten heels?”

  “What?” She smirked, raising one eyebrow. “They’re cute. And they go with my outfit.”

  I patted her leg. “You knew we’d be standing most of the day, right?”

  “Yeah, but I wanted to look cute, Katie. I mean, if I’m going to be in the booth, handing out samples of Sky High goodies, I need to look presentable.”

  “Sweetie, you’d look fine in a flour sack. Nobody here today was looking at your shoes.”

  She scoffed. “One guy did.”

  “Who was it?” I asked. “Teddy Higgins? I hear he’s got a thing for ladies’ feet.”

  “Eew!” Liv squirmed in her chair. “That’s just gross!”

  I smiled. “So? Was it Teddy?”

  My sister shook her head. “It was a little guy,” she explained. “Maybe two or three. He dropped a mini cupcake and crawled under the table. When I felt something brush against my leg, I looked down and there he was.”

  “Let’s just hope he doesn’t grow up to be the next Teddy Higgins.”

  Liv cringed again. “Would you stop saying that name, please?”

  I smiled, gave her another comforting pat and got up from the chair. “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “You sit here for a few more minutes and give those tired puppies a little more recovery time. I’m going to find Ivy and make sure the doors open tomorrow at eight.”

  Liv nodded, reached for a miniature Pumpkin Pecan Cinnamon Scone and nibbled away. I strolled through the convention hall, searching for Ivy Minkler among the crowd of exhausted vendors and volunteers. When I finally found her, sandwiched between two irate red-faced women complaining about booth locations, I approached slowly and tried to get Ivy’s attention. Just as she saw me, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but the New York City area code suggested it might be Nigel Summerfield.

  “This is Kate,” I said.

  “It’s Nigel. I got your message.”

  “Any wo
rd from your sister?”

  “No. I’m about half out of my mind, Kate. I keep calling her phone, but it goes right to voicemail.”

  “Have you heard from the police?”

  “Some detective called two or three times,” he answered. “But she hasn’t really told me anything promising.”

  “Recently?”

  “What?”

  “Did she call recently?”

  “I don’t know. I guess…uh, I talked to her late this morning sometime. And there was another call this afternoon, but I didn’t answer. I’ve been driving around, trying to see if I can find my sister’s rental car.”

  “Was it Detective Kincaid?” I asked. “Did she talk to you this morning?”

  “Yeah. But, like I said, I’ve been—”

  “You need to call her back,” I said firmly. “Do you have her number handy?”

  I could hear Nigel breathing, but he didn’t answer my question.

  “Look,” I said finally. “The police found evidence that your sister was in Walter Shipp’s house yesterday.”

  A faint gasp came over the line.

  “That’s why you need to call Detective Kincaid.”

  “You know something,” he said firmly. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Nigel? Just call her. It’s not my place to—”

  “What do you know?” His voice fizzed with fear and concern. “Please, Kate. Just tell me. I’m going crazy not knowing where she is.” He stopped and inhaled deeply. “I feel so powerless. I’ve got do something, you know? I don’t care how things are done here in Colorado. But back in New York, we don’t just sit around and keep quiet. Annabeth is the only family I have left.”

  “I know that, Nigel. So, please—call Dina Kincaid. She’ll fill you in on the latest developments.”

  “If you know something about my sister,” he said, “please just tell me.”

  “It’s not my place,” I said calmly. “But that’s why I called you earlier. So that you would—”

  He hung up before I could finish. I quickly dialed his number, but it went to voicemail. I waited for the tone and repeated what I’d just told him during our brief conversation. Then I dialed Dina Kincaid’s number.