by Mary Maxwell
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But from the way Gallagher was seething and pointing at her, I’d say it was something pretty intense.”
One of my favorite Wagon Wheel servers approached the booth. “Hey, Katie! How’ve you been?”
“I’m good, Zoey. You?”
She smiled. “Can’t complain.”
“Well, you could,” Trent said. “But it’s not gonna do one lick of good.”
Zoey and I locked eyes and she winked. “What can I bring you, doll?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m actually heading back to the bar in a sec.”
“Okay.” She slowly surveyed the table. “How’s everybody else doing with their Diet Cokes and club soda?”
Trent and Amanda nodded.
“We’ll be back once we’re off the clock for a beer,” Denny said, reaching for his glass. “This is just a pit stop for some much-needed fuel.”
“Speaking of which,” Zoey said. “Are you ready to order?”
“Maybe in a couple of minutes,” Trent said. “Katie was in the middle of telling us something, so we’ll wait until she’s bounced back to Prince Charming over there.”
Zoey glanced across the room. “Oh, heck! I didn’t even see Zack come in.” She shot a wide smile at me. “You guys make such a great couple, Katie!”
Trent groaned. “So everyone is always telling her.”
We waited until Zoey had left before resuming our discussion of Kyle Gallagher and the mystery woman.
“What was that about a dog?” asked Denny.
“I’m certain it was the same one that I saw outside of Tipper’s,” I said. “I don’t know what kind—just a small, white ball of fluffy fur. But it had a very distinctive collar: bright pink with rows of Swarovski crystals around it, so I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure it was the same dog.”
Denny frowned. “What kind of crystals?”
“Swarovski,” I answered. “I mean, they looked like them, but…just crystals, you know? Kind of like tiny, square fake diamonds arranged in a band around the dog’s neck.”
Trent scoffed and sipped his Diet Coke.
“But you didn’t get a look at the woman’s face?” Amanda said. “Just now or when you saw her outside of Tipper’s?”
I shook my head. “That’s just it; the dog was being walked by a guy when I saw it the other day. And I saw one of those frilly toothpicks at the Moonlight—” I looked at Trent and smiled. “Remember? I told you that the guy walking the dog had one in his mouth? And then I saw another one on the front porch after talking to Mrs. Flanagan?”
Denny chuckled. “Frilly toothpick?”
“Yeah, Santiago,” Trent said firmly. “Didn’t you read the case notes?”
I saw Denny’s jaw tighten before he managed a smile. “Guess I missed a couple of things,” he said. “I take it there’s a frilly toothpick connection?”
“Just a coincidence at this point,” I said. “Although I actually suspect the guy I saw walking the dog the other day—the one with the toothpick in his mouth—could possibly be Dermot Flanagan or Kyle’s brother.”
“Wait a sec,” Trent said. “I thought the guy was just rambling on due to exhaustion and nerves when he came by earlier. Are you saying that you actually do suspect Gallagher’s brother is involved?”
“Yes,” I answered. “As well as Dermot Flanagan, the woman with the dark hair and Kyle Gallagher.”
“Whoa,” Trent said. “What are you basing that on, Katie?”
“Instinct,” I said. “There was something about the way he looked and sounded when I ran into him on the way over here.”
Trent nodded, squinting as he processed the information. Then he said, “Okay, we’ll take another look at a few things as soon as we get a bite to eat. And I’ll reach out to the Las Cruces PD to see what they know about Gallagher’s brother.”
He reached into his shirt pocket, retrieved a small notebook and went back in for a ballpoint pen. Then he scribbled a note and shoved the two items back into the pocket.
“Have you tried using your phone for that?” I asked.
He sneered. “For what?”
“To make notes about your cases,” I explained. “It’s a lot faster and much more efficient. You just tap and swipe, enter your information and then hit Save. It’s a brave new world out here, Deputy Chief Walsh. Technology is your friend.”
The sneer on his face moved into an all-out scowl. “Is that right? Well, Katie, I don’t need any more friends at this point. What I need is to find Tipper Hedge before the lunatics that kidnapped her do something that we all regret.”
CHAPTER 34
Zack was in the middle of telling Red a story about Gretchen Goode and the newspaper’s sports columnist when I made my way back to the bar.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
Red leaned in. “Yeah, Katie. I kept an eye on you and the folks in blue; Trent looked a little unhappy at one point.”
I groaned. “That’s how he looks ninety percent of the time. I guess he was born a half-empty kind of guy.”
The front door opened and a group of boisterous regulars rushed in from the sidewalk. Zack shouted a quick greeting to one of the cluster—a skinny bald guy named Howell who worked in advertising sales at the Gazette—before they crossed the room and gathered around one of the pool tables.
“Will you lovebirds excuse me?” Red announced in a deep, comical voice. “I’m going to see what that band of hooligans is drinking tonight.”
After he left and I had a few sips of wine, Zack asked for an update on Tipper.
“She’s still missing,” I said. “And the PD is doing everything they can. Trent just got a call from Dina as I was leaving their table. The CSP pulled over—”
“The what?” Zack said above the noise from the new arrivals. “Did you say ‘ESP.’”
I pressed my mouth to his ear. “No, silly. CSP; the Colorado State Patrol. They just pulled over a car near Downieville that was going ninety-five on I-70.”
“So?”
I shrugged. “Nothing definite yet,” I answered. “But it was a woman. With a small white dog. And two of Tipper’s credit cards.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Trent had told me that the CSP thought she might have something to do with the BOLO on the black BMW.
“But didn’t you tell me that they found Tipper’s car?”
“Yes, but the CSP called because of the credit cards,” I answered. “And the bulletin also mentioned a white fluffy dog. Since there was a pooch in the car and the woman was refusing to cooperate, they called Trent as a courtesy.”
“Why are you smiling?” asked Zack.
“Because I’m pretty sure that’s the dog I saw outside of Tipper’s the other day,” I said. “And I just saw it again less than thirty minutes ago with a woman who was talking to Kyle Gallagher.”
He laughed. “Katie, I hate to break the news, but there are lots of little white dogs in the world.”
“I know, but how many have bright pink collars?” I said with a smile. “And how many little white dogs with bright pink collars are stopped by the State Patrol in a car driven by a woman who has two of Tipper’s credit cards in her pocket?”
He laughed and raised his glass. “Then that’s good news, right?”
“Let’s hope so,” I said as our friends scurried in the door. “Let’s hope Tipper’s home safe and sound as soon as possible.”
CHAPTER 35
Later that night, after dinner with Zack and our friends, I drove home to Sky High, climbed the stairs to my apartment and collapsed onto the bed.
“Maybe I’ll just wear this outfit tomorrow,” I mumbled, gazing at the spidery crack in the ceiling. “But someone might notice…” I rolled over, staring into the open closet across the room. “So what am I going to—”
The phone vibrated on the side table.
“I hope that’s something good,” I said, glancing at the display. “From Deputy Chief…” I swiped t
he screen. “Hi, Trent. What’s the latest?”
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Katie.”
“Is there news?” I asked.
“I just got off with the CSP again,” he reported. “The woman they stopped on the interstate had some other interesting things in her possession besides Tipper’s credit cards.”
“Do they also belong to Tipper?”
“Some of them,” he answered. “They also found the phone Tipper used to call you…Sturges or something? Remember? She’s the school teacher in Las Cruces who…” I could hear him pawing through the things on his desk. “Anyway, I’ve got it written down here on one of these scraps of paper. But I know it’s the same name.”
I waited until he stopped to take a breath. “I remember,” I said. “It’s Tania Sturges.”
Trent grumbled. “Okay, sure.”
“Did the woman tell the CSP where Tipper’s being held?”
“She claims that she doesn’t know,” he said. “The most they got from her before she asked for a lawyer was something about Kyle Gallagher’s brother and Dermot Flanagan hiring her to be their administrative assistant for some kind of business down in Albuquerque.”
“What about the dead woman?” I asked. “Did she help ID her?”
“Yes,” Trent said. “Her name was Claire Cain. She’d been dating Dermot Flanagan for a few weeks. And, if the woman’s story is to be believed, Claire was accidentally shot during an argument with Dermot about how they were going to spend the ransom money.”
The news seemed somehow fitting, like another jagged piece had slipped into the puzzle. I’d been involved in enough investigations when I was a PI to recognize crimes that had been carefully crafted as well as those that seemed slapdash and spontaneous. From the very beginning, Tipper’s abduction felt like it was more the latter; a series of jumbled and messy actions that indicated the perpetrators probably had a goal of some sort—in this case, kidnap Tipper for ransom—without taking much care to ensure that they hadn’t left a trail of breadcrumbs scattered in their wake after fleeing the scene of the crime.
“What do you think?” asked Trent.
I’d been daydreaming, so I wasn’t certain if I’d missed his last remark.
“About what?” I said hesitantly.
“The whole thing,” he answered. “You’ve worked kidnappings before, haven’t you?”
“Don’t be difficult, Trent. Remember Walter Shipp?”
“Um…”
“I helped find him after he was abducted by Pepper McIntosh and her band of lunatics.”
Trent chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. I hadn’t forgotten, Katie. I was…” The sound of scrunching papers came over the line again. “So, anyway? What do you think?”
“I’d guess she’s still in the area,” I said.
“Since she wasn’t in the trunk of the car when it was found on Yukon?”
“More because I saw the woman and the dog talking to Kyle Gallagher tonight,” I said. “And he was behaving strangely, as if I’d caught him doing something naughty.”
“Such as?”
I groaned. “Use your imagination, Trent. He and Tipper have only known one another a short time. It sounds like maybe he’s involved with his brother and Dermot Flanagan in a business that’s gone south. And he knows that Tipper’s mother is wealthy.”
“Ah, I see where you’re going, Katie.”
“It’s a classic scenario,” I said. “Guy meets girl. Girl’s family member has bucks. Guy needs an emergency infusion of cash. Girl’s fairly vulnerable because of her dodgy romantic history. Guy sweet talks girl, romancing her with candlelit dinners and red roses and seemingly genuine professions of love.”
He grunted. “‘Seemingly genuine professions of love,’ Katie?”
“What would you call it?”
“Pile of manure,” Trent said. “Guys like that give guys like me a bad name.”
I didn’t want to debate the merits of the observation, so I asked Trent what more the State Patrol had learned from the woman caught speeding on the interstate.
“She likes Dr. Pepper,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He repeated the line. “And that’s it, unfortunately. After she told them about working for Clark Gallagher and Dermot Flanagan, she asked for a lawyer and a can of Dr. Pepper before making it quite clear that she was done talking.”
“Figures,” I grumbled. “The first solid lead we get and she refuses to help.”
“I don’t know about that,” Trent said. “We’ve got the car now. And you saw her in Crescent Creek earlier. So I think your theory’s totally right, Katie.”
“About Tipper being somewhere nearby?”
“You betcha,” he agreed. “And about Kyle Gallagher’s brother and Dermot Flanagan being involved. I’m not going to rest until we get Tipper back home safe and those punks are singing like canaries.”
I rolled my eyes at the cliché, but knew that Trent meant well.
“I remember Dermot Flanagan,” he said as I got up from the bed and drifted down the hall toward the kitchen. “Guy was a snotty jerk. His brother was the cool one.”
“Daniel?”
“Yeah, I always liked him better. Seemed real levelheaded and smart. That’s probably why we got along so well.”
“Because you’re levelheaded and smart?”
“If you say so,” Trent said.
“Well, I do. I know that you’re levelheaded and smart, Deputy Chief Walsh.”
“Jeez, Katie. That’s so sweet of you—”
“And I also know that I need to get off the phone and catch forty winks.”
“Copy that,” he said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we know something, okay?”
“Same for me, good buddy. If I come across anything at all that I think will be helpful, you’ll be the first person to hear about it.”
CHAPTER 36
The Sky High kitchen smelled like cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee when I came downstairs the next morning at five. Julia was leaning down to peer into the lower oven, both hands covered with bright pink quilted mitts and a wooden spoon clutched between her teeth.
“Morning, Jules,” I called from the door. “What time did you get here?”
“Four-fifteen,” she answered after removing the spoon. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Again?”
“I’ve lost count of how many nights it’s been.” She stood up, opened the oven door and pulled out an oblong baking pan. “Maybe six or seven.”
I shuffled toward the coffee. “What about sleeping pills?”
“I don’t like the way I feel the next morning.” She put the rolls on a trivet to cool, fanning the top with one of the giant mitts. “If it doesn’t get any better soon, I’ll go in and see Dr. Fulbright.”
Julia was a talented chef, a loyal friend and one of the kindest women I’d ever met. She was also a world-class worrier, constantly agonizing about everything imaginable, from the safety of her three kids to whether or not she might’ve offended the cashier at Walmart with a silly remark about the woman’s sweater.
“Maybe the good doctor can help you stop fretting about things so much,” I suggested, filling a mug with the steaming java.
“I know, but it’s hardwired into my brain, Katie. My mom’s a worrier. My grandmother’s a worrier. I think it’s just something I have to learn to live with.”
Since I could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t in the mood to talk about the legacy of anxiety that threaded through her family, I asked if she wanted a blueberry smoothie.
“You fixing one for yourself?”
“I am indeed,” I answered. “The coffee will perk up my brain and the blueberries with make me smarter.”
She smiled and did a little happy dance. “Sounds good to me!”
I took a quick look at the whiteboard. For once in a blue moon, the list of special orders was fairly slim.
“I’ll whip up the smoothies,” I said. “Then we can ge
t down to business.”
“That works, boss!”
As I crossed the room toward the walk-in cooler, I asked if she’d checked the Sky High voicemail.
“Yep! Kitty Trask called at midnight to say she needs two dozen mocha cupcakes instead of one, Pamela something-or-other asked you to call her about desserts for a retirement party and there’s a really weird message that sounded like Darth Vader.”
I came out of the cooler with the blueberries, soy milk and a small handful of kale. “And what did he want?”
She glanced down at the floor. “I can’t even say it aloud, Katie. The language was pretty spicy.” Her face was red with embarrassment. “And very inappropriate. My guess is some kids got the bright idea late last night to make prank calls.”
“You sure it wasn’t my brother?”
She made a little squeaking sound. “Brody? Why on earth would he do that?”
“Whenever he gets sloshed, he regresses to the mentality of a prepubescent boy. He’s called after midnight a couple of times in the past few months.”
“And what did he say?”
“What do you think? He disguises his voice by huffing and puffing. Then he says, ‘Luke, I am your father.’”
“Okay, yeah,” Julia said. “Then it probably was your brother, because whoever called blurted that line right before they hung up.”
I dropped the berries and kale into the blender, poured in the soy milk and secured the lid.
“I’ll call him later if I remember,” I said, mixing the smoothie ingredients until they were thoroughly combined.
“Want me to remind you?” Julia giggled. “I can always add it to the whiteboard.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll shoot him a text this morning and tell him I want to talk. That way, if I forget to call him, he’ll get in touch this afternoon or tonight.”
I filled two glasses with the blue-green mixture and handed one to Julia.
“Here you go, Jules.” I raised my glass. “Let’s make it another great Sky High day!”
After she sampled the drink, Julia’s expression shifted. “Can I ask a question?”