by Mary Maxwell
Zack took my hand. “And the pleasure of driving a vintage Ford Taurus,” he said playfully, “with a dented hood and an EAT MOR CHIKIN bumper sticker.”
I rolled my eyes. “What can I say? My dad likes Chick-fil-A. And I like that old sedan. It’s got over a hundred thousand miles, but it keeps on rolling down the highway.”
Zack laughed and the warm, familiar sound brought a mile-wide smile to my face.
“I do have a question for you,” he said when the laughter faded.
“Yes, I love you,” I said, using the phrase that we’d only recently begun saying aloud.
He came closer, swallowed me in a bear hug and we shared a passionate kiss until the tomatoes and garlic started bubbling loudly on the stove.
“Oh, shoot!” Zack quickly reached for the pan. “I don’t want that to burn!”
While he tended to the marinara sauce, I finished chopping vegetables and romaine for the salad. Then I refilled his wine glass and leaned against the counter to watch him work.
“That smells pretty amazing,” I said as he added a bit of chianti to the pan. “How’d you learn to cook?”
He grinned. “My mother and father, actually. They both love spending time together in the kitchen. I think it’s how they’ve stayed together for so many years. Even when they’re disagreeing about something, all the tension just melts away when they gather around a bubbling pot of whatever they’re in the mood for.”
We sipped our wine for a few minutes as the sauce simmered and fragranced the air with a perfect blend of garlic, onion and fresh herbs. After a few minutes, I remembered that Zack had something he wanted to ask me. When I reminded him, his face shifted from cheery and relaxed to somewhat somber.
“Oh, wow,” I said. “If I knew it was going to kill the mood, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “My mood’s still fine. I just…well, I wanted to know if you were going to get involved in the dead guy at the Lodge thing.”
I’d expected the question. When we first met, Zack already knew that I’d worked as a PI in Chicago. And it wasn’t a secret that I still enjoyed solving a whodunit, although they were usually the plots of the classic detective novels I read at night in bed.
“Connie asked me to look into it,” I said. “Because of a family matter.”
Zack nodded. “You mean Jasper?”
“Yes, he wasn’t the one that actually found the body in the gazebo, but he…” I didn’t want to divulge what I knew about Jasper’s criminal record, so I paused to think of another way to end the sentence. “Let’s just say that Jasper is a little anxious about the police,” I finished. “And it isn’t anything we need to talk about on date night.”
“Is the entire subject off limits?” Zack asked. “Or just Jasper’s conviction for felony assault on a cop?”
My breath caught in my throat. “Wow! That’s a surprise! How’d you know?”
“I overheard a couple of guys talking in the newsroom at the Gazette. I mean, everybody in town knows that a body was found at the Lodge. And one of the reporters keeps a police scanner on his desk.”
“Then I guess it’s common knowledge by now, huh?”
Zack shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far, Katie. But I think there’s a rumor circulating.”
“About Jasper?”
“Afraid so,” he said. “Which is actually part of the reason I wanted to know if you were going into amateur sleuth mode again.”
I smiled at the way he’d phrased it, but didn’t say anything.
“Oh, I know that look,” Zack said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up,” I answered, brushing one hand down his cheek. “Tell me more about why you were curious about my…” I paused, smiling sheepishly. “…how did you put it? My ‘amateur sleuth mode’?”
His face went red. “Oh, that’s it!” he blurted. “You’re offended that I—”
“No, I’m not offended,” I interjected. “But I am getting pretty hungry! Let’s move along with your famous Manicotti a la Granny Hutton, okay?”
He chuckled again, gave me a quick kiss and went back to work on dinner.
“So?” I asked, pulling one of the kitchen stools closer. “Why did you ask me about Jasper?”
“Because of the rumors,” he answered. “I know Dina’s a great detective. And everybody else in the department will do what they can to help solve this thing. But I don’t want people falsely accusing Connie’s cousin.”
“Are you sure he’s innocent?”
“I’ve known the guy for a while now,” Zack said. “He made a pretty big mistake in the past, but I just don’t…” He leaned down to check the flame on the burner under the pot of water. “Here’s the bottom line, okay? I know you know your stuff. I’ve listened to your brother and sister brag about how well you did as a PI in Chicago. And I know you’ll do everything you can—legally and without getting in Dina’s business—to help uncover the truth about whatever happened in the gazebo.”
When he finished, I put down my wine and leaned in for another hug.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” I murmured into his chest.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I’m okay hearing it again.”
CHAPTER 18
The text from Dina Kincaid later that night was short and sweet: call me asap, pls! It arrived while I was in the kitchen doing dishes. After finishing the task and drying my hands, I went into the living room, plopped on the sofa and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring, so I figured it was something important.
“How are you, Detective Kincaid?”
Dina skipped right over the friendly greeting. “Did you know Bitsy Sanger has a sister?” she asked, sounding short of breath. “And did you know the sister lives in Hawaii?”
“I did not,” I said. “How lucky for her, right?”
“I know. Besides uncovering those little details, I found out there’s no way that was her coffee cup by the gazebo. She’s been on Maui for the past week, spending her days on the beach and her nights at one luau after the next. I finally got her on the phone about an hour ago.”
“Like I said, how lucky can you get?”
Dina laughed. “You’re right, but you know what? Bitsy deserves a two-week vacation to Hawaii. I think it’s the first time she’s been away since everything that happened with the divorce and custody battle.”
I wasn’t in Crescent Creek when Bitsy Sanger’s marriage ended, but I heard about it from my sister. Bitsy and I were childhood friends, so Olivia kept me in the loop with weekly updates. It was a contentious split; plenty of mudslinging, slurs and snarling lawyers that ended with Bitsy getting the two kids and Aaron moving to Colorado Springs.
“Did you hear that she’s dating someone new?” I asked.
“Amanda said something about seeing her at dinner not too long ago,” Dina said. “Good-looking guy with impeccable table manners.”
“Those are both nice to find,” I said.
“Especially if they come in the same package,” she quipped. “Like you’ve got with Zack.”
“I thank my lucky stars every night before I go to sleep.”
“You deserve it,” she said sweetly. “You both do.”
“Thanks, that’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s the truth, Katie. I mean, when we were kids, I know we didn’t get along so well. But it’s nice to be adults now. It’s like my mom always says, ‘With age comes wisdom.’”
“I like that one. I’ll have to remember it the next time somebody moans about their birthday.”
We laughed together briefly before Dina went back to the reason for the call.
“Anyway, since Bitsy Sanger is out of town, that pretty much gives her a solid alibi for the situation at the Lodge.”
“You mean the murder?”
“Or accidental death. It’s really too soon to make a conclusive call. Yes, John Doe was deceased. And yes, he’d suffered a blow to the head. But it
would seem that was from falling and hitting the bench. The ME said that wasn’t enough to kill him.”
“And that means there’s a chance that his death was caused by something else,” I said.
“Possibly,” Dina agreed. “But the autopsy didn’t reveal any other visible wounds or injuries. We’re waiting for toxicology and the rest now, so I’m focusing on witness interviews and trying to ID the victim through other means for the time being.”
“Did you have a chance to talk to Annie Dunkin’s sister?”
“Yes, I stopped at Annie’s this evening,” Dina explained. “Thanks for sending that text after you got the scoop from Reverend Tuttle. It turns out that Bethany Dunkin, also known as Bitsy, met the victim at a party in Boulder a few weeks ago. As you might expect, he flirted with her and tried to get her number. But Bitsy’s seeing someone, so she declined the overture.”
“Did she tell you his name?” I asked.
“I wish,” Dina said. “She’d only met him once. She thought it might be Alan or something similar.”
“According to Dean Oxford, they looked pretty chummy outside the coffee shop.”
“I know; Dean told me as much when I stopped by Uncommon Grounds to see him. He said that Bitsy Dunkin and the man in the tux got into her Range Rover together.”
“What was that all about?”
“Bitsy said his car had crapped out and he needed a ride to Crescent Creek Lodge. She also told me that she gave her soy latte to John Doe when he got out of the car.”
“Mighty darn chummy,” I said. “For two people that only met once.”
“That’s Bethany; gregarious and ready to lend a hand to one and all.”
“Sounds a little too ready,” I said. “Considering that she didn’t even know the guy.”
“But she knows karate,” Dina said. “She’s a black belt. I’d say the girl can definitely take care of herself if someone gets handsy.”
I didn’t want to debate the wisdom of Bethany offering a ride to a man she didn’t really know, so I asked Dina if they’d found the victim’s car.
“Not yet,” she answered. “Although I did get a look at Bethany’s Range Rover. It was parked in front of her sister’s place, so I peeked in the windows. It was neat and tidy, much like the woman herself.”
“Speaking of which,” I said. “Did she tell you what they talked about on the drive to the Lodge?”
“His current romantic entanglements.”
“Do tell,” I said.
“It was pretty tawdry,” Dina said with a stern tone. “The guy sounds like a regular Don Juan.”
“A different girl in every port?”
Dina chuckled. “And rough waters between destinations. From what Bitsy Dunkin reported, our victim was quite the Casanova; two different women in Crescent Creek have been vying for his affections.”
“Sounds like he was one busy guy.”
She laughed again. “Yeah, very busy. Until he wasn’t.”
“Well, love can be a dangerous game.”
“We both know that’s true,” Dina sighed. “But time wounds all heels, so I guess our John Doe learned his lesson the hard way.”
CHAPTER 19
The next day around four, after Sky High closed and I’d finished the daily bookkeeping, Julia banished me from the kitchen. “I can deal with these last two orders,” she’d said confidently. “And you deserve some time away from here.”
Since I needed to run a couple of errands downtown, I figured a stop at Becca Hancock’s vintage clothing store would be on the way. Timeless Gold was located on Meadow Drive, a tree-lined street filled with retail shops and restaurants a few blocks north of the Crescent Creek town square. Becca had opened the boutique shortly after she and her husband moved to town. While Red ruled the roost at The Wagon Wheel, a popular bar and gathering spot, Becca sold exquisite second-hand things along with a limited number of brand-new originals by regional designers and artisans.
“Hey, Katie!” she said warmly as I came in the door. “I’ve got something that’ll be perfect for you!”
Before I could say a word, she disappeared through the fluttering blue silk curtains that separated the front of the shop from the storage area and office in the rear. When she returned a few seconds later, I knew she was right; the plum-and-rose kimono in her hands was exactly the kind of thing I loved to lounge in after my nightly bubble bath.
“Well?” Becca said eagerly. “What do you think?”
“How much?”
“Fifteen,” she answered.
“Sold!” I reached into my purse. “But please don’t let me anywhere near that sale rack over there. I’m trying to be more responsible with my budget.”
She smiled and started folding the kimono on the countertop. I glanced longingly at the discounted bargains and then watched her wrap my purchase in white tissue paper.
“I knew this had your name all over it,” she said, slipping the garment into a roomy lavender paper bag with twine handles. “Someone else tried to buy it, but I steered them toward another option.”
“Thanks for looking out for me,” I said, putting a twenty on the counter. “Without you, I’d probably end up wearing the same three outfits for the rest of my life.”
Becca shrugged. “It’s part of the joy I get from running this place,” she said. “Red tells me it’s the best thing that ever happened to our marriage.”
“Timeless Gold?”
“Yep. When I worked in that insurance office after we first moved to town, I guess my moods were a bit unpredictable. But now that I’ve got the shop, I go home at the end of the day with a smile on my face. We still have to pinch pennies, but it’s totally worth it!”
“Well, you’re luckier than most,” I said. “So many people come into Sky High and grumble about their jobs.”
She murmured a similar sentiment. “I had a woman do that in here last week,” Becca said. “Really sweet girl until she opened her mouth. I’m not kidding, Katie! Between the language and volume of her complaints, it reminded me of a truck driver I once dated years ago.”
“Been there,” I said. “Done that.”
We shared a grateful smile and I asked Becca if she had time for a few questions.
“About the trucker driver?”
I laughed. “Heavens, no. I was curious about a man who bought a tuxedo from you. Fairly handsome guy with a beard. I think he was around forty, and he had a scar on one cheek and a—”
“The Dynamic Dimitri!” Becca announced cheerfully. “He bought the tux from me a couple of weeks ago.”
I smiled at the name. “Okay, so…”
“And he’s a magician,” she continued. “A pretty good one, according to what he had to say!” She chuckled. “Why, Katie? Are you thinking of hiring him for a special event at Sky High?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m trying to find out who killed him.”
Becca’s smile shuddered briefly before vanishing. “Oh, my…” One hand went to her cheek. “He’s dead?”
“Yes, two days ago. And there was a tag from your store in his pocket. I’m guessing he bought the tuxedo from you.”
She nodded. “Is this about what happened at Connie’s hotel?”
“Right,” I answered. “His body was found in—”
“The gazebo! Red was talking to a guy in the bar the other night after it happened. I guess he heard the story from a girl that works at the Lodge. She told him about a body being found, but I didn’t hear that he was wearing a tuxedo.”
“It’s a tragic situation for everyone involved,” I said sadly. “Especially Mr. Dimitri.”
“It’s not Mr. Dimitri,” Becca said. “It’s Dynamic Dimitri. I mean, at least that’s his professional name.”
“How’d you find out that he’s a magician?”
“It was all he talked about,” she said. “Well, that and the fact that the love of his life is from around here.”
“Did he tell you his real name?”
She frowned. “Um…” I watched as she pulled a small box from beneath the counter. “He paid with cash, but left a business card,” she said as her fingers flipped through the alphabetical dividers in the box. “Here it is!” She plucked a glossy black card from the collection and studied it through narrowed eyes. “The Dynamic Dimitri.” She flipped over the card and checked the back. “Nope. There’s a phone number and an address in Boulder, but no other name.” She smiled and ran her finger along the front of the card. “Although it does have his motto, I suppose you’d call it: Magic at the speed of fright.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
Becca shrugged. “Yeah, neither do I.” She handed the card to me. “Maybe he was a spooky magician.”
“A spooky magician?”
She smiled. “I don’t know. What else could it mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But that’s just one of many unanswered questions about the man.”
Becca was quiet; her eyes were fixed on the black business card.
“Have you talked to Dina Kincaid yet?” I asked.
She shook her head, still staring at the small rectangle of glossy black paper.
“I imagine she’ll be in at some point today,” I said. “I was at the Lodge when the body was discovered. When I saw the price tag that they found in his pocket, I told Dina it was from your shop.”
“Yeah, of course.” She shifted her gaze from the card and smiled weakly. “I’m just so…I mean, you know? He was just in here buying that tux, but now he’s…”
I waited while she continued processing the unexpected news. Then I asked if she remembered anything more that the man said during his visit to the shop.
“Not really,” she said. “When he told me that he’s a magician, I asked about his work. You know; the types of places he performs, whether he does children’s parties and the like.”
“Do you recall what he told you?”
She bit her lower lip. “Uh, mostly private parties. I think maybe he mentioned corporate gigs, too.” She paused, trying to conjure a memory of the trivial chat with the magician. “I mean, he wasn’t here all that long. He came in, asked if I had a second-hand tuxedo and got really excited when I told him that I did.”