by Mary Maxwell
“Yours truly!” I said with a wide grin. “If it’s a brand I’ve worn before. I mean, I know my foot’s the same size. And I’m already familiar with the way their shoes fit.”
He pressed his mouth to my ear. “Caveat emptor,” he whispered. The heat from his breath revived my drowsy inner core. “Let the buyer beware.”
“I know what it means,” I said. “But I don’t know if I agree with the premise for every situation.”
As he started to deliver his next words of wisdom, Zack yawned and stretched his arms overhead. When he finished, the right arm floated down and pulled me back in against his muscular chest.
“I hate to be a party pooper,” he said. “But I’ve got to get up extra early tomorrow.”
“Earlier than me?”
“I know, I know. You do four-thirty or five every day, Katie. But it’s not my usual deal. I want to make sure I get at least a few good hours of sleep before the alarm goes off.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“School board meeting,” he said. “For some unfortunate reason, they’re getting together before the annual pancake breakfast.”
I reached over and patted his thigh. “You poor thing! Such inhumane working conditions.”
He winced. “I know. But I’ve never been a morning person.”
“Never?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Well, there’s always the occasional exception to the rule.”
“Like last Saturday morning,” I said, lowering my voice to a husky rasp. “And the Saturday before that. And the Saturday—”
He silenced my teasing with a protracted kiss. Then he pushed up from the sofa, reached for my hand and helped me get to my feet.
“You are one hot tamale, Katie Reed!” he said, attempting to mimic my throaty tone. “I am so glad that you picked me out of all the suitors who were standing in line outside your door.”
I laughed and tweaked his nose. “Those weren’t suitors, silly. Those were just a bunch of hungry guys coming to Sky High for the BOGO on cupcakes.”
CHAPTER 21
The next afternoon, while Julia and Harper sat at the counter in the dining room enjoying their post-work cappuccino, I bid them farewell, climbed into my car and drove across town to Hanover Lane. I parked in front of Tipper’s house and stared at the yellow crime scene tape looped around the perimeter. I noticed a pair of blue disposable booties underneath one of the shrubs near the garage.
“Heathens,” I muttered under my breath. “Can’t even clean up after themselves.”
I got out, collected the wayward booties and slipped them into my pocket. As I turned to retrace my steps, I noticed a woman across the street and down one house. She was waving at me from her front porch, so I returned the gesture and went over to see what was on her mind.
“You’re Audrey’s little girl, right?”
I never squabbled when someone referred to me as my mother’s daughter. Even when they made me feel like I was back in middle school with the unfortunate haircut, gruesome braces and intractable baby fat from head to toe. In this case, I recognized the woman as Lila Belle Devereaux, a buxom blonde who did everything in her power to imitate Marilyn Monroe’s appearance after someone once said she reminded them of the Hollywood legend.
“Yes, Mrs. Devereaux.” I smiled and tried to decide if the dark smear on her face was left from lunch or the elderly woman’s attempt at a beauty mark. “It’s Kate Reed. How are you?”
She crumpled her mouth into a snarl. “Been better. Walter found the polka CDs that I’d stashed in the back of the guest bath vanity. If I hear ‘In Heaven There is No Beer’ one more time, I may be forced to use the paring knife for something other than peeling an apple.”
I nodded solemnly at the roundabout threat. “A woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do, right?”
She tugged on the front door handle. “Come on inside. It’s colder than a witch’s knocker in a brass bra out here!”
I stepped inside as she held the door. When she came in behind me, I heard muffled polka music from somewhere deep in the house.
“See what I mean?” One of her slender arms lifted and she shook her fist. “I should’ve burned those silly polka records. That man’s intentionally trying to push me over the edge with that nonsense.”
She smiled and grumbled before turning on her heel and zipping toward the kitchen.
“Cup of decaf?” she asked, raising a bottle of red wine from the counter. “Or would you rather have a glass of wine?”
“Neither,” I said. “But thanks for the offer.”
“You’re most welcome, Katie.” She stepped back, flattened one hand against her cheek and started humming along with the polka song. “I actually adore this one. I just like to give my hubby a hard time about it. You know—keep him on his toes and all?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
She poured some wine into a clear plastic tumbler. Then she asked if I was hungry.
“No, but thanks,” I said as she joined me at the table. “I’m glad you saw me at Tipper’s. I was going to come over and ask you a couple of questions after I picked up the booties.” I paused while she upended the glass and chugged the wine. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Of course, Katie! Anything for Audrey’s little girl.”
“Were you home the afternoon that Tipper went missing?”
Lila Belle took a long, slow breath. “Such a tragedy.”
I waited for more, but she closed her eyes after the brief pronouncement and swayed in her chair.
“Did you see anyone suspicious in the area that day?” I said finally.
Her eyes popped open. “I saw you.”
I smiled. “Did I look suspicious?”
“Oh, heavens no! Did you say ‘suspicious’ just then?”
I nodded.
“Sorry about that. Half of my brain is listening to you while the other half is doing the polka with my hubby on the dance floor at Vandyke’s Danceteria in Leadville back in…” She stopped and refilled her plastic tumbler. “Shoot now! There I go, rambling all over the world and forgetting what you asked me.”
I waited until she’d taken a small sip. Then I repeated my question about suspicious individuals in the area the day that Tipper vanished.
Lila Belle swirled the wine in her glass. “You betcha! I saw the man you talked to when you got up to Tipper’s door.”
“The one with the dog?”
Her face tightened. “The dog that left a little present on the end of our driveway,” she griped. “And, by ‘a little present,’ I mean—”
“I’m sorry to hear about that,” I cut in. “The man told me that he’s a neighbor of yours.”
She scoffed, swirling the wine again. “Hell if he is! That scalawag and some skinny woman with dark hair showed up the night before with that pooping machine on a leash. I figured they were Tipper’s friends or relatives. But then I saw him jockeying the vehicles around just a half hour or so before you pulled up. He was acting all shifty and everything, looking around, creeping in and out of the backyard, moving his dented old truck into the garage, closing the door and then doing the same thing with a dark SUV. He finally left Tipper’s fancy car in the driveway before he pranced off with that little dog.”
“The SUV belongs to Tipper’s boyfriend,” I said. “The police are still trying to identify the owner of the old pickup.”
Lila Belle’s forehead creased with uncertainty. “Which one’s her boyfriend?”
The question caught me off guard. When I asked her to explain, she covered her mouth with a slender hand and said something so quiet I didn’t catch a word.
“I’m sorry, but can you repeat that?”
“I said that it’s hard to know which one’s her boyfriend,” Lila Belle said in a slow, steady voice. “Because I’ve seen her being sweet on two different boys in as many days.”
Once again, I was surprised by her answer. I considered the most diplomatic way to
ask her to elaborate, but decided there was no need or time for subtlety.
“Do you mean you saw her kissing two men?”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “At least, I think so.”
“Did you meet either of them?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t want to, Katie. I know scalawags when I see them. In some cases, I can spot ’em from a million miles away.”
“Was one tall and rather handsome?”
She gestured at the thick lens in her glasses. “I don’t get much detail with these puppies,” she said. “So I can’t comment on whether or not either of them are good-looking. But I do know that one was taller than the other. And the shorter one has the little yappy white dog.”
I nodded and let the details sift down into my brain. If Lila Belle was correct, she was throwing a huge curve ball into the scenario. According to Blanche Speltzer, Tipper had introduced Kyle Gallagher as her new beau. But now Lila Belle was confiding that she’d seen Tipper being affectionate with two different men.
“You look perplexed, Katie. Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, gosh no! I’m just…well, I’m a little stunned. I’d heard that Tipper was dating one man, not two.”
She chuckled. “Well, we can’t believe everything we’re told. What do you know about the fellow?”
“Not much actually,” I answered. “I guess it was a fairly new relationship. And Blanche Speltzer told me that she met Kyle one day when he was out shopping with Tipper.”
Lila Belle drank more wine, swirled the final few drops around the bottom of the glass and then swallowed the last of it in one gulp.
“Sure you’re not hungry, Katie?”
“I’m sure, Lila Belle.”
“Why are you asking about Tipper’s boyfriend and his dog?”
“Did you also see the taller man with the dog?”
She scrunched her nose. “Oh, I have no idea. Things tend to blur together after a certain point in the day.”
I glanced at the half-filled bottle of wine. There were two others just like it on the counter by the toaster.
“Well, I’m asking because I have a hunch that the shorter guy with the dog may be involved in the incident.”
“You mean the abduction? That’s what everyone was calling it at The Wagon Wheel when the hubby and I went out last night.”
“I can imagine. Something this dramatic doesn’t happen all that often around here.”
“Every five years or so,” she said confidently. “I remember five years ago, that Davidson woman was abducted by her ex-husband. Do you remember that one, Katie?”
“My mother told me about it,” I said. “I was living in Chicago at the time, so she—”
“Well, that’s right! You moved away for…medical school or something.”
“Art school,” I said. “After that I went to work for a private investigator.”
She nodded as I briefly explained the past twelve years of my life. Then she asked if I thought Tipper was still alive.
The question pierced the quiet with a sliver of dread. “I certainly hope so. And that’s another reason I stopped by today. Since I used to work as a PI, I know a couple of things about conducting investigations. And if I talk to a few people on your street, maybe I can—”
“Well, don’t bother with Muriel Gladwell! She just got back from Aruba last night. Went there with some young gigolo who’s half her age.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the tip, Lila Belle.”
“My money’s on the guy with the pooping dog,” she announced. “I saw him lurking around after you went in the back.”
“When I was delivering the goodies?”
She shrugged. “Yum! I love the treats at your place.” A look of pure bliss crossed her face as she hummed happily. “I obviously didn’t know what was in the boxes, but I figured that’s what you were doing. I ran into Tipper three or four days ago. She told me that you were whipping up something yummy for her party.”
“That’s sweet, thanks. Now…back to the afternoon that I came by and Tipper went missing.”
Lila Belle picked up the wine bottle, tipped it toward her glass and watched as the liquid splashed against the plastic.
“Yes,” she said. “I was actually watching for the mailman. He almost always comes around that time of the day, so I was in the front room, just glancing up and down, trying to see his little white van. And then I saw you. Wearing that cute jean jacket and those—what were they? Maybe pale peach slacks?”
I nodded, marveling at her attention to detail.
“Yes, okay. They were peach.” She leaned forward and cupped one hand around her mouth. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Katie. But they make your backside look as big as a barn.” She winked and chuckled. “You may want to rethink that choice the next time you’re tempted to wear those pants again. But maybe that’s what girls your age are going for; the big caboose, jiggly rear, Jell-O shelf sort of—”
“Thank you, Lila Belle. But…the man with the dog?”
“Oh, yes! Sorry about that. The man with the pooping dog.” She sipped the wine. “Uh, let’s see. You went around back. I’m guessing that’s because Tipper didn’t answer. And when you did that, the man sort of hurried up, loaded the pooch in the backseat and hightailed it out of Dodge.”
“So the guy with the dog drove Tipper’s BMW away from her house?”
“Isn’t that what I just told you?” Lila Belle asked, sounding a little pitiful.
“Sure thing. And that’s actually a huge help, so thank you! I don’t even know if the police are aware of that fact yet.”
She furrowed her brow. “Well, of course they are, Katie. I talked to that lovely Dina Kincaid last night when she stopped by.”
I nodded. “That’s great, Lila Belle. It’s important to tell them as much as you know. And I guess you’ve already taken care of that.”
“Correct. I’m a good citizen, Katie. I wanted to help in some way. It’s a terrible thing that’s happened. I just hope they find that lunatic before he hurts Tipper.” She nipped from the tumbler again. “And, before his dog can poop on anybody else’s driveway.”
CHAPTER 22
Lila Belle’s obtuse attempt at humor was on my mind as I drove home. I imagined that she did what plenty of other people do when something unsettling happens—make light of the situation, crack a joke to release the escalating tension and count their blessings that the shadow of doom has darkened someone else’s doorstep.
As I pulled into the parking lot at Sky High Pies, I saw someone sitting on the front porch of the old Victorian. It was a man, dressed entirely in black. He was in one of the rocking chairs, talking on his phone and making large, swooping gestures with one hand. After leaving my car in its usual spot in back, I walked around to the porch. When I realized that I’d never seen the stranger before, I greeted him with a friendly wave.
“You must be Kate,” he said, getting out of the chair.
“I am,” I answered, taking a close look at the unexpected visitor. He was tall, probably a pinch over six feet, with close-cropped dark hair, pale green eyes and a layer of scruff along his jawline. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Kyle Gallagher.” His smile was genuine and bright. “Trent Walsh suggested I get in touch with you.”
After several months at the helm of the bakery café, I was accustomed to sudden swerves in my day. But the surprising appearance of Tipper Hedge’s boyfriend was as far from a last-minute pie order as you could get. As I started up the front steps, my phone whirred in my hand. It was Trent, probably calling to let me know I should be expecting a visit from the man currently standing in front of me.
“Deputy Chief Walsh?” I said, quickly answering the call.
“Hey, Katie,” he said. “I wanted to let you know that Kyle Gallagher turned up. And it looks like he’s got a rock solid alibi for yesterday. He’d forgotten his wallet at Tipper’s earlier in the day when she asked him for cash to tip the bartender that she’d
hired.”
I looked up at the man on the porch. He’d returned to his phone, staring intently at the screen while I was on my call.
“By the time Gallagher realized that he didn’t have the wallet,” Trent continued, “he was on the way to Denver with his brother. He called Tipper’s, didn’t get an answer and left a message asking her to look for it. He figured she was busy with the party, so the fact that she didn’t answer or call back wasn’t a concern. I guess someone else who’d heard the news reached him late last night to tell him. Kyle and his brother drove immediately back to Crescent Creek.”
“Okay,” I said. “I guess that explains yesterday.”
“I just got off the phone with him about twenty minutes ago,” Trent added. “He should be there at—”
“At any moment?”
“Uh-huh.”
I smiled at Gallagher. He’d put away the phone and was leaning on one of the white columns beside the top step.
“I’m looking at him right now,” I said.
“Oh,” Trent said meekly. “Guess I should’ve dialed your number straightaway instead of going down to the vending machine.”
“It’s okay. But I should probably talk to him and let you get back to the bag of Doritos or Cheetos you just bought.”
Trent grunted. “Sunflower seeds,” he said. “I’m trying to be healthy, Katie.”
“Good luck with that, big boy. I’ll catch you later.”
I slipped the phone into my pocket, climbed the stairs and reached out to shake Gallagher’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said with a smile. “That was Trent calling to tell me to expect a visit from you.”
Gallagher chuckled. “Right on time, huh?”
I pulled out my keys to unlock the front door. After he followed me into the dimly-lit entry hall, I asked if he wanted something to drink.
“I’m okay. But thanks, Miss Reed. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
His eyes were underscored with the telltale dark circles that follow a long and sleepless night. I nodded at the dining room and suggested he find a spot to sit while I walked my coat and purse back to the office.