Chocolate Most Deadly (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Maxwell

  As I clicked off the light and settled back into the pillows, I suddenly remembered one more thing about the scene at Delilah’s apartment: carryout menus for Lucky Jade Bowl. I turned the light on again, grabbed my computer and quickly cross-referenced locations for Thursday night AA meetings in Denver with the address of the popular Chinese restaurant on York Street.

  “Bingo!” I said, finding a location on the same street a few blocks from Lucky Jade Bowl. “Let’s hope that X marks the spot.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Julia was in the kitchen at Sky High the next morning when I stumbled through the door.

  “Don’t you look perky?” she said.

  I stared at her blankly, poured a cup of coffee and slumped against the counter.

  “Another late night?”

  I smiled and yawned before sampling the steaming java.

  “Should I leave you alone until the caffeine kicks in?”

  I took another sip, luxuriated in the warm liquid and then apologized for my listless manner.

  “Who was it?” she asked. “Zack the photographer or Deputy Chief Walsh?”

  I growled softly like a cartoon grizzly. “Don’t poke the bear,” I warned. “I wasn’t up late for a romantic tryst. I was doing some online research.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “New recipes?”

  I shook my head. “It’s that thing I told you about,” I answered. “The one that involves Viveca’s brother.”

  Julia’s cheerful expression vanished. “I was afraid you’d do that. I know how much you loved working as a detective in Chicago.”

  “Guilty as charged,” I said, tying an apron around my waist. “But this is more about doing a favor for a friend.”

  She asked if Viveca’s brother was in some kind of trouble. I gave her a quick recap of the past few days. Then I swore her to secrecy.

  “Mum’s the word,” she said. “I’m just sorry to hear that Viveca’s brother is involved in something like that.”

  “Me, too. But it’s really impossible to tell exactly what’s going on at this point. Tim claims he’s innocent. And there are a couple of characters in his building that I need to check out.”

  Julia heaved a sigh. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

  I smiled, waiting for more.

  “Just take care of yourself, Kate.”

  “As always,” I promised.

  “Does Trent know that you’re snooping around in this mess?”

  “He does indeed,” I answered. “He actually put me in touch with a detective friend of his in Denver. Viveca and I met with the guy briefly to talk about things.”

  “And?”

  I shrugged. “And he’s nice enough,” I said. “But he’s sticking pretty close to Denver PD protocol. Since I’m an outsider, he can’t really say too much.”

  She shook her head and snickered. “But that won’t stop you, will it?”

  “Nope,” I said, joining in the laughter. “Once the bug bites, I’ve got to follow it through until I get to the bottom of things.”

  “How about we get to the bottom of that?” She pointed at the prep list on the whiteboard. “I’d like to leave a little early if possible. My brother and his family are driving through on their way to Dallas. I’d love to spend some time with them while they’re in town.”

  “Absolutely, Jules. How about you leave as soon as the lunch rush is over?”

  “What about all of the prep?” she asked.

  “I’ll worry about that,” I said. “Whatever we don’t do this morning, I can tackle this afternoon.”

  CHAPTER 27

  I was nearly finished frosting two dozen Cocoa Loco Cupcakes when someone knocked on the kitchen door. I put down the spatula, zipped across the room and peered through the window. It was Viveca, cradling a small mountain of padded envelopes and photo albums.

  “Come in, come in,” I said, opening the door. “What’s all that?”

  “Research,” she said. “After I talked to you last night, I decided to dig around in the attic. My brother stashed a bunch of boxes there a few months before my uncle died. Tim was moving around a lot, so he figured Uncle Chester’s attic would be a safe place to keep some of his old scrapbooks and pictures. I thought it might be helpful if you want to look through these and get an idea of who my brother really is.”

  I cleared a spot on the counter so she could deposit the collection of her brother’s keepsakes. Then I offered to pour her a cup of coffee.

  “I’m okay for now,” she replied. “Too much caffeine tends to make me jittery.”

  “That happens to me if I have too much of anything,” I said, smiling with the hope that it might calm her nerves. When my effort didn’t produce the desired results, I decided to try and divert her attention. “How about a cupcake?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you in the dumps today?”

  “Basically,” Viveca answered. “Today. Last Thursday. The day before that.” She pulled a stool from beneath the counter and sat down. “I feel like I’m falling apart, Kate. I’m still reeling from my bookstore closing and moving to Crescent Creek. And now, this thing with my brother…” Her chin dropped against her chest. “…it’s really making me crazy. I’ve never been involved in anything like this before. I just don’t know what to do, you know?”

  I returned to the cupcakes. They were the last thing on the prep list; my final obligation before I made a quick trip to Denver to visit the AA meeting on York Street. I’d decided to start there to see if anyone would be willing to talk about Tim and Delilah. With my responsibilities at Sky High, I couldn’t invest endless hours in the case. But I wanted to do something to try and help Viveca. From the sallow skin, dark circles under her eyes and the way she slouched, I could tell she wasn’t getting any sleep at all.

  “Do you feel up to a few questions?” I said with a smile.

  She shrugged unenthusiastically. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Just let me know if you decide at any point that you don’t want to talk, okay?”

  Her answer was another meager shrug.

  “Does your brother attend AA meetings?”

  The question actually made her smile. “How can I answer that? It’s supposed to be…” She chuckled softly. “…anonymous, isn’t it?”

  I held her gaze. When she realized I was ignoring the rhetorical question, she confessed that Tim had been to rehab twice and was trying AA meetings again after he relapsed while on tour with his band.

  “As far as I know, Delilah is still going with him,” she added. “And most nights there’s a whole group that goes to eat dinner together after the meeting. He was being stalked by one of the other members, so I think Delilah felt like she needed to protect her boyfriend from other women.”

  I felt a slim quiver of recognition in my stomach, the sensation that I used to feel when I was working a case in Chicago and the clues began to align.

  “Here’s what I propose,” I said, carefully slathering one of the moist cupcakes with frosting. “Once I get these beauties finished, I’m going to freshen up, change my clothes and drive back down to Denver. I’ve got a hunch about the AA connection. I want to see if somebody at one of the meetings might know where Tim and Delilah would stay when they’re keeping a low profile.”

  Viveca sighed. “Oh, Kate,” she said softly. “You really are amazing.”

  I glanced over. She was rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. I wanted to give her a hug and offer words of comfort and encouragement. But I decided to keep working on the cupcakes so I could get to Denver before the AA meeting started at six-thirty.

  “I should go with you.” She began gathering the scrapbooks and photo albums into her arms. “Maybe we can sift through my brother’s stuff tomorrow.”

  “I’ve got another idea,” I said. “Why don’t you take those home? I can look through them later, and you should try to maybe get some rest this afternoon.”

  Her eyes flickered at the suggestion. It seeme
d like she was genuinely torn between the desire to stay in Crescent Creek and the sense of duty to join me while I poked around into her brother’s disappearance. I reassured her again that I could handle the quick trip to the city, and she seemed to relax a bit.

  “And you really don’t mind?” she asked.

  I reached into one of the cupboards, grabbed a small box and loaded it with two Cocoa Loco Cupcakes. I carefully positioned it on the top of the books in her arms. Then I gave her a playful swat on the rump.

  “I don’t mind,” I said, holding the door open so she could head home. “And I promise to call you later with a full report.”

  I stood on the back porch and watched her walk slowly across the expanse of grass between Sky High and the matching Victorian that she’d inherited from her uncle. I’d only known Viveca for a short time, but a sisterly bond had already formed between us. She was the first neighbor to greet me when I returned to Crescent Creek. And she was the first guest I’d invited over for a glass of wine. Whatever else happened in the days ahead, I wanted to do everything possible to help unravel the knots of anxiety that were now tied around her heart.

  CHAPTER 28

  An hour later, after I finished the prep list and cleaned up the kitchen, my sister called from Denver. I hadn’t talked to Olivia in a couple of weeks. When her name appeared on the phone, I cringed with guilt about visiting the city without letting her know.

  “When are you coming down to see me?” It was the sharp, cutting tone that I imagined she used when cross-examining witnesses in court. “I know you’re busy, but it’s been a million years since we got together.”

  I sighed. “It’s been less than a month, Liv.”

  She was quiet for a few seconds before asking me to explain why her husband saw me the other day walking into an apartment building on Franklin Street. I felt my stomach twist and my cheeks turn crimson.

  “I’ve actually been down a couple of times this week,” I told her hesitantly. “But I was with Viveca and we were—”

  “And you didn’t stop by and see me?” she blurted, sounding annoyed and hurt.

  “I would’ve, but I was with Viv.”

  “I’ve met her,” Olivia said. “I think she’s nice.”

  “But we were kind of doing something that needed our undivided attention,” I offered.

  She huffed loudly into the phone. “Like what?”

  I flipped through a quick list of playful possibilities in my mind: face lift, tummy tuck, shoe shopping. Since I knew my sister would never believe anything quite so colorful, I decided to tell her the truth.

  “Snooping around?” she said dismissively. “But I thought you gave that up when you left Chicago.”

  “I was just helping Viveca because she’s pretty upset,” I explained. “It’s too complicated to go into right now, but it involves her brother.”

  “Is he in some kind of trouble?” Olivia asked. “Is whatever you’re doing in Denver dangerous?”

  I laughed. “Not any more dangerous than having dinner with your family.”

  As I feared, she didn’t find humor in my silly joke. Instead, she asked when I was coming back to the city.

  “I’ll actually be down there this afternoon,” I said.

  “Well, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. Can you reschedule the visit for another day so that we can at least meet for coffee or something?”

  “What I’m doing this afternoon can’t exactly be rescheduled.”

  She snickered. “What is it—brain surgery?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “It’s actually an AA meeting.”

  There was no sound on the other end of the line. I finally asked if my sister was still there.

  “Yes, I’m here,” she said quietly. “And I’m so sorry, Kate. I didn’t realize you had a…problem.”

  I’d been so intent on answering her questions honestly that I didn’t understand what she meant for a brief moment. When it did make sense, I started laughing and told her not to worry.

  “I’m not going there because I have a drinking problem,” I said.

  “Then what it is?” she demanded. “Why are you going to an AA meeting?”

  “Ah, c’mon, Liv. You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Is someone there with you?”

  “No, Liv,” I said. “Because it’s like Vegas.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You know,” I added. “What happens at AA meetings stays at AA meetings.”

  She answered the bland deflection with a few colorful words that Nana Reed would never condone before the line went dead.

  “Thanks for calling, sis,” I mumbled, feeling a fresh wave of guilt. “Always good to catch up.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The AA meeting that I decided to try first was held at the York Street Club, a red brick mansion in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. After finding a place to park on Gaylord Street, I walked down Thirteenth Avenue and around the corner onto York. As I approached the stately structure, I paused at the foot of the long stone steps leading to the front door. I took a moment to appreciate the grand old mansion. It was a magnificent building with neatly manicured shrubs and landscaping, a wrap-around porch and a steeply-pitched roof punctuated by attic windows.

  As I made my way up the staircase, a man came in the opposite direction. He was scowling at his phone as his thumbs tapped on the tiny keyboard.

  “Hey,” he said, glancing up briefly. “How’s it going?”

  I smiled. “Good, thanks,” I said. “Do you know where—”

  But he was gone before I could finish my question. I watched him scramble down the rest of the stairs before going inside. The entryway was empty, but I heard voices somewhere above and headed for the stairs going up to the second floor. When I reached the landing, I noticed two women standing outside an open doorway.

  “Welcome,” one of them said warmly. “You’re a new face.”

  I nodded. “Yes, this is my first time here.”

  She gestured across the threshold. “We’ll be starting in just a few minutes.”

  With another nod, I stepped into a room outfitted with folding chairs and tables. I smiled at a couple of middle-aged men sitting together before crossing the room to where a woman with green-tinted hair stood alone beside a long wooden table. She was struggling to remove a clear plastic sleeve from a stack of paper cups. Besides the distinctive hue of her hair and the unlit cigarette tucked behind one ear, I also noticed that all of her fingernails except one were painted pitch-black and speckled with tiny spots of yellow. A quick glance at her right thumb revealed the telltale splotch of dried solvent used to apply acrylic nails.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  She looked up. “Yes?”

  “Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions?”

  She fixed her almond-shaped eyes on my face. “What is it?” she said in a flat tone.

  “Do you know Delilah Benson?” I asked. “Or Tim England?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”

  “Oh, my name is Kate Reed,” I told her. “And I’m helping Tim’s sister look for—”

  The muscles in her jaw tightened. “Are you here for the meeting?”

  I shook my head. “No, my neighbor’s brother has gone missing,” I explained. “I suspect that he and his girlfriend, that’s Delilah, might both come here for—”

  “Then maybe you should talk to the police.”

  “But do you know them?” I asked again.

  “That’s not how this works,” the woman said as she positioned the stack of cups on the table beside a large stainless steel urn. “Alcoholics Anonymous is just that—anonymous.” She paused briefly to let the word—and the melodramatic emphasis of her tone—sink in. “We’re not here so that police detectives can barge in with a bunch of questions about members.”

  “But I’m not with the police,” I explained. “I’m
just trying to help a friend find her brother.”

  “Then you should go to the cops,” the woman said. “I’ve heard that’s in their job description.”

  It was a few minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin. A trio of twentysomething men came through the door, talking in hushed voices and nodding in unison like hipster bobbleheads. Between their facial scruff, knit caps and baggy cardigan sweaters, they looked like the guys I used to see in the galleries and restaurants in Wicker Park before I left Chicago.

  “I’m sorry that I can’t help you,” she said, finally softening her cynical shell. “It’s just not what we’re all about.”

  “I appreciate you telling me that,” I said. “But isn’t the point of your group to help people?”

  She nodded, keeping her attention on the cups she was organizing into a small army of identical stacks. “Yeah, but we help them with addiction and recovery,” she said. “We’re not babysitters or stormtroopers.”

  A man walked by us, leaving the aroma of patchouli in his wake. The woman’s nose wrinkled and a groan came from her frowning mouth.

  “I can’t stand that smell!” she hissed.

  “Patchouli?”

  She nodded. “My sister’s roommate thinks it somehow harmonizes with her body chemistry.” Her eyes tumbled up and back in her head. “As if anything could ever match her big fat—” She stopped the crude comment before adding the final twist of the knife. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s been a really awful couple of days.”

  A few more people came into the room. They were a mix of ages and races, but it was clear that they shared common ground as warm hugs and friendly greetings were exchanged. I checked the time on my phone. I had less than five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin, but the green-haired gatekeeper kept her focus on arranging paper cups.

  After a few more pointless attempts to engage her in conversation, I drifted toward a small cluster of attendees in the corner. A woman wearing a faux fur jacket was at the center of the group, holding court as two men and a second woman listened with rapt concentration. I recognized her immediately; it was the woman that Viveca and I saw leaving Tim’s apartment building when we arrived the other day. She was built like a water heater, no curves or hips, just a short, stout body encased in a black spandex sheath, bright pink leggings and dark ankle boots.