by Mary Maxwell
“Does Rex still claim that his brother came to Crescent Creek to find someone responsible for a jewelry heist?”
Trent nodded. “And a murder,” he said. “The trouble is, the kid’s got no evidence and he can’t provide anything meaningful.”
“Cut him some slack,” I suggested. “He was zapped with a Taser and dumped on the sidewalk.”
“Yeah, I know. But we can’t do much with one picture of his brother, a bunch of flyers and some half-baked story about stolen diamonds being sold overseas by a criminal mastermind who decided that Crescent Creek was a good hideout for going off the grid.”
“Well, that part of it actually makes sense,” I said.
“Which part—laying low here?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s quiet, far from the beaten path and most people mind their own business.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You kidding me?”
“What?”
“Name three people in town who mind their own beeswax,” he said. “And don’t even think about including yourself on that list.”
I laughed at the taunt. “I can mind my own business quite well, thank you very much!”
Trent snorted. “Bull,” he said with a rumbling chuckle. “You love gossip almost as much as you love making pies and cakes.”
“True,” I said. “But…well, okay. How about Ron Claypool, Gillian Prentiss and Leonard Shattuck?”
He laughed again. “Leonard’s been dead for going on six years. Care to try again?”
“Well, you said three people,” I replied. “You didn’t specify that they had to be alive.”
“Whatever you think, Katie.”
“C’mon, big guy. You have to admit that I’m right.”
“I don’t have to admit anything,” he said.
“That’s also true,” I admitted. “I’ll give you that.”
He smiled and puffed out his chest. “Thank you, Katie!”
“So…anyway,” I said. “What about Rex Greer’s case? Any leads on his brother?”
Trent shrugged. “Nothing yet,” he said. “Tyler is going down to Denver to talk to Raymond Block about the stolen car. I guess he knows Rex Greer from back in Philadelphia, so maybe he’ll tell us something helpful about the guy’s history.”
He shook his head, dropped both loaves of bread into his basket and checked his watch.
“As much fun as it is to hang out with you at Food Town,” he said, “I’ve got a bucketful of case files to get through before bed.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, pushing my cart toward the cereal aisle. “And let me know how you make out with the sprouted grain taste test.”
CHAPTER 27
When I walked into the Sky High kitchen the next morning, Julia was waiting by the backdoor. She had both arms crossed, a sly expression on her face and one foot was tapping at irregular intervals on the tile floor.
“When were you going to tell me?” she asked.
I dropped my purse on the counter and started toward the coffee pot, but she snagged my arm with one hand.
“Not so fast!” Her voice fizzed with the same undercurrent that accompanied her attempts to tell jokes, so I didn’t think it was anything especially serious. “I want to talk about something before you get cranked up on caffeine.”
I whimpered sadly and pointed at the fresh-brewed java.
“No way, José,” Julia teased.
I smiled. “How about as soon as I get a sip of coffee?”
She loosened her grip and offered to pour it for me. I followed her across the kitchen and plopped down on a stool.
“Sorry, Jules,” I said. “It was a super short night again.”
She filled a mug, added a splash of cream and delivered to me with one eyebrow raised.
“Okay,” she said. “One sip, but then I ask my question.”
I made the moment last as long as possible. When her foot started tapping again, I knew that the best way to stop the erratic drumming was to hear the query.
“What’s on your mind?” I said.
Her arms crossed again. “When were you going to tell me that the guy the police found downtown is the one that was in here looking for his brother?” she said. “I was mortified when Bitsy told me about what happened.”
“How do you know her?”
Julia frowned. “Yoga class. Why?”
“And how did she hear about it?”
Julia shook her head. “I didn’t ask. Mainly because I was dumbfounded that you didn’t tell Harper or me yesterday.”
I took another sip of coffee. Then I started to get off the stool, but Julia scowled so sharply that I knew we’d have to finish the conversation before the day could begin.
“I was going to tell you,” I offered. “But I guess it slipped my mind.”
Her eyes widened. “Slipped your mind? How on earth does something like that slip your mind? You could’ve at least sent us a quick text last night.”
“Why are you so upset?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem like anything you’d—”
“Because I was worried about you!” Her voice was beginning to bristle with frustration. “Because I care about you! And because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you!”
By the time she finished, her cheeks were scarlet and the veins in her neck thumped with emotion. I waited to let her catch her breath before I apologized again.
“The last thing I would ever want to do is get you upset,” I said. “I guess that after working as a PI, things like that don’t seem so…” I tried to find the right word, hoping that my choice wouldn’t set her off again. “I guess that they don’t seem so alarming,” I finished. “Because…well, here I am! And I’m fine!”
She scowled. “Yeah, here you are,” she said. “And you’re fine. But how was I supposed to know? I left a bunch of messages on your phone, Katie. And you never called me back. I was terrified that you’d been…I don’t know, hurt or kidnapped or…”
Her eyes quivered as they filled with tears. “…or something worse,” she murmured. “Something like being murdered by that wild-eyed lunatic looking for his brother.”
I got up and wrapped her in my arms. “I’m fine, Jules.” I stepped back, keeping both hands on her shoulders. “Why are you so emotional this morning?”
As I waited for her answer, she swallowed hard and swiped at the tears. Then she plucked a paper towel from the dispenser and covered her face.
“Are you okay?” I said gently.
She mumbled something.
“Sorry?” I said. “I didn’t catch that, sweetie.”
The towel came down and she was smiling again.
“I’m such a drama queen,” she said. “I don’t know what that was all about, Katie. I guess maybe it was Bitsy telling me that the guy had your phone number written on his hand when the police found him all bloody and everything.”
Since it was the second reference to Bitsy Curlew, I asked if Julia knew how the yoga instructor had heard about the incident involving Rex Greer. I also made a mental note; the police hadn’t released any details about the incident, so it was highly suspicious that Bitsy was aware of the phone number on Rex’s hand.
“She called me,” Julia said. “After her yoga class last night.”
“No, not how you found out,” I said, realizing that she’d misunderstood the question. “How did Bitsy hear about Rex being assaulted?”
Julia’s mouth drifted into a lazy grin while she considered the question.
“I don’t know,” she said after a moment or two. “I didn’t think to ask her because I went into an instant panic about whether or not you were okay.”
I smiled. “We’ve already covered that; I’m fine. But I’m still a bit confused.”
“About what?” asked Julia.
“Well, the yoga class finishes at seven, right?”
She shook her head. “Six-thirty. With the regular session and closing meditation, it’s ninety minutes and they start at five o’clock.”
While Julia waited for my response, I hurried over to where I’d left my purse.
“What?” she said.
“I need to get in touch with Trent,” I told her.
“About what?”
I found my phone and sent a quick text asking Dina to call me as soon as possible.
“Katie?” Julia’s voice trembled slightly. “What’s going on? You’re sort of freaking me out right now.”
“That makes two of us.” I shuddered briefly as a chill ran down my back. “You just said that Bitsy Curlew told you after your yoga class that Rex had been attacked.”
She nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, that makes her either clairvoyant or somehow involved,” I said. “Because the first responders found Rex at around seven o’clock on the other side of town.”
CHAPTER 28
During the lull between our breakfast and lunch rushes, I went into the office to place an order for butternut squash, pineapple chunks, onions and celery. Sky High had been a customer of Liberty Fresh Produce since the first day my grandmother opened the doors, so it felt like dealing with extended family members whenever I talked to Randy or Allison Campbell.
“Katie!” Randy said cheerfully when he heard my voice. “How’s our favorite customer doing?”
“I’m good, thanks. How’s everything with you?”
“Can’t complain,” he answered. “I gave that up on account of it never gets me anywhere.”
“Smart man. I should try that sometime.”
He laughed. “What can we help you with? We just got some fresh raspberries in, and they’re the juiciest ones that I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks, but I’m not in the market for any fruit besides pineapple today.”
After he made another attempt to entice me into buying the berries, I read off the items in my order and we chatted for a few more minutes about business trends in the area.
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” Randy said at one point with a hushed voice. “But I ran into that photographer you’ve been dating.”
My cheeks warmed instantly. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Randy continued. “Zack’s a good guy. He seems pretty smitten, Katie.”
Since Randy and his wife were a few years younger than my parents, they both seemed to enjoy dispensing advice and wisdom whenever we talked. I usually went with the flow, knowing that they were also still in touch with my mother and father at their retirement Shangri-La in Florida.
“Well, that makes two of us,” I said. “I like Zack pretty well, too.”
Randy chuckled. “If your old man can’t make it from snowbird territory to walk you down the aisle,” he quipped, “then you can count me in!”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
After a few more conversational volleys, I finished the chat with Randy and sat back in my chair. The desk was relatively organized, so I decided to take a quick look online for information about the jewelry store robbery that Rex Greer had mentioned. If it was the motivation for Theo’s visit to Crescent Creek, it would be good to learn at least the basics about the heist.
I started with the name of the store—Diamond Galleria—along with the most relevant key words: robbery, shooting, Philadelphia, Theo Greer, diamond heist and Arlene. The results bounced back in less than twenty seconds, a long register of newspaper articles, blog entries, industry trend reports and crime statistics.
Since the Diamond Galleria website was at the top of the list, I decided to take a quick look and explore the store’s featured products, jewelry collections and press releases. They were having a sale on diamond tennis bracelets and earrings. Select purchases qualified for special financing and no down payments. And the Daily Value pop-up featured a gorgeous cultured freshwater pearl and crystal strand necklace for just under two-hundred dollars.
Before my itchy shopping fingers started to point and click toward yet another unnecessary purchase, I selected a link at the top of the page marked Galleria Memories. I was expecting glamour shots of customers on their wedding days, but the collection of photographs actually featured a timeline of the store’s history, from the opening day more than seventy years in the past to portraits of the current family members on the management team.
As I scrolled down the page, I noticed that the assortment included a handful of candid shots from various employee banquets and holiday parties through the years. There were goofy pictures of men and women in Halloween costumes. One image seemed to be from a New Year’s Eve party. And a handful of photographs under the heading ANNUAL FRIENDS & FAMILY PICNIC had been taken in a leafy green park setting.
I realized that my mouth was starting to water while I studied the bountiful selection of food in one of the picnic shots. It had been hours since I nibbled on a scone, so my mind began listing things to eat—omelet, banana nut muffin, waffle, poached egg on toast—as I read the captions beneath the photographs.
The list of edibles came to an abrupt halt when I noticed one name in the final caption.
“Bethany Curlew?”
I quickly zoomed in and examined the woman in the picture. Although she had a completely different hairstyle and looked thirty pounds heavier, the person in the picnic photograph was definitely the same Bethany Curlew that I’d met on Edgewood Road.
“Well, hello,” I said, smiling at the screen. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Dressed in a baggy T-shirt and knee-length denim shorts, Bitsy gazed into the camera with a relaxed, confident smile. She was holding a package of hot dog buns in one hand while hoisting a can of beer toward the camera.
“Hmmm,” I said. “I guess you gave up beer and brats for yoga and low-fat living, huh?”
I snickered softly as I inspected the other people gathered around Bethany. The photograph had captured about a dozen Diamond Galleria friends and family members at the picnic. The others looked like a nice group of people: casual smiles, hands waving at the photographer, arms looped around shoulders.
I returned to the caption, reading each name and matching it to a face until only two remained.
“Well, well,” I said. “It is a small world, isn’t it?”
The final entries, associated with a pair of slightly blurry individuals in the back row of the group, confirmed my niggling suspicion that Bitsy Curlew wasn’t entirely honest when we talked the other day outside of her house.
“Hello, Rex and Theo Greer,” I said, squinting at the brothers standing together and grinning for the occasion. “It looks like Bitsy may know you after all.”
CHAPTER 29
After the lunch rush slowed and Julia shooed me away from the front line, I left the kitchen and went into the dining room. Harper was making the rounds, refilling coffee cups and water glasses. I stood behind the counter for a few minutes, admiring her easy grace and natural ability to maintain an endless flow of upbeat chatter with customers.
“Hey!” she said, gliding by to start a fresh pot of decaf. “How’s everything in the kitchen?”
I smiled at Julia through the pass window. “The chef told me to get out of the way,” I joked. “I was cramping her style.”
“You were not!” Julia called. “I know there are a million other things you need to take care of this afternoon.”
I smiled. “Starting with a nap?”
“Doesn’t that sound absolutely perfect?” Harper asked with a heavy-eyed grin. “A nap and someone to rub my feet and maybe dinner later at Luigi’s without the kids.”
“Or the husband,” Julia added.
While they continued expanding the list of make-believe diversions, I poured a cup of coffee and headed for the office.
“Paperwork?” Harper asked.
“Up to here.” I held one hand far above my head. “If I’m not back in an hour, send the search team. I may just end up buried under a landslide of invoices and receipts.”
I was nearly to the end of the counter when
the phone beside the register rang and Harper called my name.
“That’s for you,” she said.
“How can you tell?”
“The ring,” she answered, giggling lightly.
I gave her a comical frown, hurried back to the register and scooped up the handset.
“Sky High Pies,” I said. “This is—”
“It’s Dina,” she said. “Are you busy?”
“I was actually getting ready to do some paperwork,” I said. “The lunch crowd has thinned to a trickle.”
“I’m glad I caught you between things,” she said. “I know how busy you guys get around noon.”
My eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.
“Today we were,” I said. “The last hour and a half were pretty crazy, but it’s calmer now. What’s going on with you?”
“I’ve got the call logs from Rex Greer’s phone,” she said.
“Anything useful?”
Dina scoffed. “The guy talks to his bookie a lot.”
“How do you know it’s a bookie?” I asked.
“While we were waiting for the warrant to access his phone,” Dina said, “I got in touch with the Philadelphia PD. Just to work up a little background on the guy.”
“What did you find out?”
“Nothing dramatic,” she said. “Rex Greer has one conviction for car theft. He actually served five years and just got out about six weeks ago.”
“Thus the parole?”
“You got it. And his parole officer was very interested to learn that Rex missed his appointment the other day because he was half way across the country searching for his brother.”
“You’ve been busy,” I said. “Warrant for the phone, calls to Philly and whatever else you’ve done for your other cases.”
“All in a day’s work, Katie.”
“I hear you,” I said. “Did you find anything on Rex Greer’s call logs besides the bookie?”
“We did,” Dina answered. “Mostly Philadelphia numbers and a couple of strip clubs in Chicago. Looks like Rex made a pit stop on his scenic bus tour of the country.”