Sixty Minutes for Murder

by Mary Maxwell

  CHAPTER 13

  My original idea for dinner was a quick sandwich at Drake’s Deli, but Dina’s remark about Café Fleur’s rich custard dessert made me reconsider. It would take longer and cost four times as much, but I hadn’t treated myself to a solo night out in quite some time.

  When I stepped inside the popular bistro, my eyes instantly locked on Warren Larimer and two other men sitting at a table near the front windows. He was vacuuming a plate of pasta into his mouth with the kind of suction power that would make a Dyson Cyclone V10 green with envy.

  Drea Scott was fiddling with the register behind the bar, so I made a beeline across the room and got comfortable on one of the stools. When she heard my purse hit the counter, she whirled around and offered a warm smile.

  “Hey, stranger!” she called. “We haven’t seen you in here for ages. How are you?”

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks,” I said. “And I’m doing great!”

  She put one hand above her eyes and made a big show of the scanning the dining room.

  “Flying solo?” she asked. “I don’t see that hunky photographer anywhere.”

  “It’s just little old me tonight,” I said.

  She pulled a menu from under the counter and placed it to my left. Then she briefly described two special entrées for the night before asking if I wanted a glass of wine.

  “Rosé, please.” I paused. “And if you can serve it in a pitcher with a straw, I’ll be very grateful.”

  Drea smirked. “Uh, okay,” she said. “That means you’re either celebrating something amazing or having a really crappy day.”

  I shook my head. “Just teasing,” I told her. “I’m in a weird mood.”

  “Let me get the wine,” she said. “Then I want to hear all about everything.”

  When she returned a moment later with my glass of rosé, I asked if Warren Larimer had behaved himself since he arrived.

  “No comment,” Drea said after shooting a quick look in his direction. “I wish that guy would learn to be more of a gentleman and less of a horse’s ass.”

  I giggled. “Alrighty, then! You just answered my question.”

  “I’m sorry, Katie.” She shrugged and looked remorseful. “Was that mean?”

  “You’re fine,” I said. “Warren can be a bit abrasive.”

  “Just a little bit. He was over here earlier asking if Wendy Barr’s company cleans the restaurant. I guess he thinks that one of her employees stole some money or something.”

  “Ah, a fishing expedition,” I said.

  “Well, he didn’t get anything but the truth,” Drea told me. “Our staff does all the cleaning, so I was able to answer him honestly. I don’t know why he’s still trying to drag her name through the mud.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Was he talking trash about her before the alleged theft?”

  Drea nodded. “Constantly,” she said. “At least, it’s been a steady stream of snide remarks for the past few weeks; mostly complaints about the dusting that her crew does or griping about streaks left on the windows. It just sounds to me like he’s the kind of nitpicker that is never pleased.”

  “Nitpicker,” I said. “That’s a good name for him.”

  “Well, his remarks are in such bad taste.” She heaved a weighty sigh. “I mean, the poor woman hasn’t even been buried yet, and that oaf is telling people that she took something from his office.”

  “I heard the same thing this past weekend.”

  “At the charity event?” she asked.

  “That’s right. He was apparently spreading the story to anyone with a pulse and the inability to escape before he started whining.”

  “The fat bastard!” Drea hissed. “He was in here last Friday night with his kids. I mean, isn’t he like sixty or something?”

  I glanced quickly over my shoulder. Larimer was guzzling from a glass of water as his dinner companions chattered and screeched like monkeys in a tree. I’d never seen the other men before, so I guessed they were clients from out of town.

  “I think he’s actually more like mid-forties,” I said. “The weight and trashy diet makes him look older.”

  “Well, whatever,” she said. “He looks too old to have teenagers.”

  “The kids probably agree with you,” I said. “I’ve heard some spicy rumors about both the son and daughter.”

  “Two bloodsucking leeches,” she said, shaking her head. “Juvenile delinquents with money are the worst. I once dated a guy whose dad was rolling in dough. He was such a pig. It didn’t last long after I realized that he was a younger version of his father.”

  “Do you want to tell me how you really felt about him?” I teased.

  She snickered. “Sorry, Katie. I ran into him a couple of nights ago at The Wagon Wheel. It rekindled the horrible memories all over again.”

  “What happened?”

  “Too long of a story,” she said. “Suffice to say, he’s at the top of my list of regrets. Right above bleaching my eyebrows when I was fourteen and letting Debby Hollister borrow my Britney Spears CDs.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Was that another teenage mistake?”

  She laughed again. “No! That was last year, and she still hasn’t returned them!”

  CHAPTER 14

  As I drove past Pearl White’s boutique around eight o’clock, I was still smiling at the last joke that Drea Scott had shared before I left the restaurant. Simply Chic usually closed at seven, but the lights were still on and Pearl was dressing a mannequin in the front window. After parking the car and making my way back to the popular clothing store, I tapped lightly on the glass.

  Pearl stopped wrestling with the pale blue cardigan and dressmaker’s dummy long enough to squint through the window. When she recognized me, her face brightened with a dazzling grin and she motioned toward the entrance.

  “Hi, Katie,” she said, after opening the door. “Come on in!”

  I stepped into the shop, inhaled the lush aroma of lilac and gardenia and waited while she secured the lock again.

  “What’s going on?” Pearl asked when she finished.

  “Oh, you know…” I said with an exaggerated shoulder roll. “Loitering downtown, as usual.”

  “Where’s your man?”

  I told her that Zack was playing basketball with a group of friends. Then I apologized for interrupting her work, and asked if she could help me with something. I promised it wouldn’t take too much time.

  “What kind of something?” she said.

  “I’m wondering if you might know about a particular type of belt or shoulder bag strap,” I explained. “It has a repeating pattern of—”

  “Three grommets?” Pearl asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

  “Detective Kincaid came by a couple of hours ago,” Pearl answered. “I’m surprised that she hasn’t called you yet.”

  “To tell me that she was here?”

  Pearl frowned playfully. “Uh-huh,” she said. “That’s exactly what I meant.” She swatted the air with one slender hand. “No, silly goose! To tell you that she’d already asked me the same question. I guessed that you’d probably be looking into Wendy’s murder as well, and Dina confirmed that when she was here.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “And what’s the answer about the belt?”

  Pearl turned on her heel and motioned for me to follow. We walked a meandering path between racks of shirts, sweaters and dresses, stopping near a vintage pie safe filled with a display of leather goods.

  “I’m not saying any of these were used to…” She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a mournful frown. “…well, you know,” she went on. “To kill Wendy Barr. But when Detective Kincaid was here, describing the…uh, the pattern of marks on her neck, I thought instantly of Elsbeth Harmon’s line of belts, shoulder bags and pocketbooks.”

  When she stepped aside, I saw an assortment of leather items arranged on shelves inside the cabinet. They were black, maroon and
mocha suede, and every piece featured a repeating pattern of three grommets as the sole ornamentation. I felt an icy spike in my heart as I studied the distinctive accessories and imagined one of them coiled around Wendy’s neck as she struggled to escape her attacker on the night of her death.

  “Well, you’re right,” I said. “The triple-grommet design might be a match.”

  Pearl nodded, running a finger along the edge of one rolled belt. “That’s Elsbeth’s signature design element,” she said. “It’s also why her company is called Trinity Ranch.”

  I smiled. “Got it. A group of three united together.”

  “That’s it,” Pearl said. “Luckily, I’ve never heard Elsbeth compare her designs to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, although her husband probably does.”

  “Oh, yeah? It sounds like you know…what’s her name again?”

  “Elsbeth Harmon,” Pearl answered. “Her studio and retail outlet are in Cherry Creek, but she spends most of her time in Santa Fe these days.”

  “Well, la-di-da!” I twirled one finger in the air. “Sounds like the leather goods business is where it’s at!”

  Pearl shook her head. “Elsbeth does okay, but her husband’s filthy rich. He’s a partner with Harmon, Scoville and Booth, the big law firm in Denver.”

  I smiled, twirled my finger again and said, “Well, double la-di-da! No wonder she can be in two places at once.”

  Pearl looked puzzled. “What do mean?”

  “Cherry Creek and Santa Fe,” I said. “And I’m sorry. I just had a deliciously rich dinner at Café Fleur, so I’m feeling a little giddy.”

  “Oooh,” she murmured. “Did you have the osso bucco?”

  “No, I went with something a little less exotic. But it sounds like the veal shank is yummy?”

  She rubbed her stomach and let her eyes roll back in her head. “I had it last night when I was there for dinner. It’s a very rare treat, but I love indulging my palate now and then. I’m usually a Caesar salad kind of gal.”

  “Well, good for you, sister! We only live once, right?”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said.

  I went back to the leather belts and accessories inside the pie safe. They were beautiful and distinctive. When I caught a peek of one price tag, I also realized they were far more expensive than I would’ve guessed.

  “What was that law firm’s name again?” I asked.

  “Harmon, Scoville and Booth,” she said. “They handle real estate, mergers and acquisitions, intellectual property and energy.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “I wonder if my sister knows anyone there.”

  “Oh, for sure,” Pearl said with a laugh. “Everybody in the Denver legal community knows someone at Harmon, Scoville. They’re like the tiptop of the upper echelon in the city. I always thought it was odd that Jack Harmon had Frank Kanter as a client. You know, why does a relatively small real estate developer need a big, fancy law firm down in the city?”

  “Ego,” I said. “I mean, that’s what my sister would probably tell you.”

  She smiled. “Is Liv getting sour on the legal field?”

  “Not really. Just some of the people that work in it.”

  “Well, you should ask if she knows Elsbeth’s husband,” Pearl said. “I’ll be curious to hear what she thinks. They’re actually a very nice couple, very supportive of one another. Jack Harmon helps Elsbeth because lots of his clients end up buying her shoulder bags and belts.”

  “Do you know if Frank Kanter did that?” I asked.

  Pearl nodded. “Are you kidding? Frank not only gave Elsbeth Harmon originals to everyone who works for his company, he also gave them to the tenants in the Sagebrush Lofts Building.”

  I smiled. “Fancy.”

  “Tax deduction,” Pearl said with a wicked laugh. “He’s no dummy. That guy works every angle, including the ones that are shadier than shady.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said. “Now, I’ll be even more curious to see if one of the Elsbeth Harmon belts was used to strangle Wendy Barr.”

  “Oh, I so hope that wasn’t the case,” Pearl said. “There must be other designers that use grommets in their work.”

  I shrugged. “Did Dina ask about recent sales of these belts and bags?”

  Pearl nodded. “She did. But I’ve only sold four of the belts so far. They’re a little pricey, and most people go for more affordable options.” She turned slightly and pointed at a nearby display. “Those are great quality, and they’re about half the cost of an Elsbeth Harmon belt.”

  “Nice,” I said. “Save money, keep your pants up and still have some cash to buy a new pair of shoes.”

  CHAPTER 15

  My first coffee of the day was sitting on the center island in the Sky High kitchen, sending curls of steam toward the ceiling, when a gentle tap sounded on the back door. It was an hour before sunrise on a chilly Wednesday morning. Julia was scurrying between the walk-in and the front line, setting up for the breakfast rush and telling me about a rumor she’d heard in the Wendy Barr case. Harper had called a few minutes earlier to report that she was running behind schedule due to a family emergency that involved a stuffed rabbit and the toilet in their guest bathroom.

  “Who’s at the door?” Julia called, heading back from the cooler with a tray piled high with chopped vegetables and sliced cheese.

  “I’m about to find out,” I said, putting down the recipe card for Berry Good Morning Muffins. “Randy Campbell said he’d be making deliveries today, but I doubt if it’s—”

  Our visitor knocked again before a dog began barking wildly on the back deck.

  “That’s not your neighbor’s dog is it?” Julia asked.

  “Doubtful,” I said, picking up the pace. “Winston Churchill’s yap isn’t that meaty.”

  When I opened the door, all of our questions were answered as Aaron Crowley stepped forward with a gorgeous Golden Retriever bringing up the rear. The dog was on a bright blue leash attached to a collar that jingled with a collection of metal tags.

  “Morning,” Aaron said. “I hope you don’t mind, Katie. We saw the lights on and thought we’d make a quick stop to place an order.”

  I smiled at the owner of Hot Diggity Dog, the most popular pet sitting, walking and boarding business in Crescent Creek. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt, wrinkled khakis and running shoes.

  “Who’s your friend?” I nodded toward the well-behaved pooch, sitting patiently on the deck beside Aaron.

  “This is Ruby Rose,” he said, reaching down to pat the dog’s head. “She just moved to town recently with a couple from Memphis.”

  I walked closer, crouched down and greeted the pup by name. She wagged her tail and licked my hand. Then she nudged against Aaron’s leg and whimpered.

  “She’s a stickler for schedules,” he joked. “Once we start our morning walk, she likes to keep moving until we’re back at the house.”

  “Where does Ruby Rose live?” I asked.

  “They bought Jack and Evelyn Carmichael’s place,” Aaron said. “Over on Academy Drive.”

  I thought about the location for a second or two, calculating the house’s proximity to Wendy Barr’s residence on Ogden Terrace. When he saw my expression shift, Aaron inquired about my mood.

  “You look sad all of a sudden,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  “More or less,” I replied. “I was just thinking about how close Ruby Rose lives to Wendy Barr’s duplex.”

  “Oh, right…” Aaron winced and his shoulders dropped. “Terrible news. We walk by there on our return route.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “You can loop down Ozeta and then cut through the little park there with the pond.”

  He nodded, rubbing the dog’s head again. “Somebody loves to get in the water,” he said with a chuckle. “Even though somebody else…” He pointed one finger at himself. “…isn’t crazy about cleaning all the mud and gunk off when we get back home.”

  “Hey, what can you do?
Dogs know all the best ways to have fun.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed. “Especially this beautiful girl!”

  Ruby Rose pressed against his leg again. Let’s go, buddy, said her big brown eyes. This human stuff is B-O-R-I-N-G!

  “So? You mentioned something about an order?” I said.

  “Oh, yeah!” Aaron’s face lit up with a big grin. “I want to get one of the peanut butter puppy cakes that you all make. Another client is having their first birthday next week.”

  “Who are we talking about?” I asked.

  “Rusty,” Aaron said. “He’s Connor and Bess Ashton’s Doberman.”

  My heart fluttered with joy. I remembered the day that Connor and Bess came in for lunch after their previous dog passed away. Buddy had been with them for fourteen years, and his unexpected departure left them grief-stricken. When they stopped by one day a few months later with a skittering ball of dark brown fur, we celebrated by toasting the new family member with cappuccinos on the front porch.

  “Of course,” I said. “We love Rusty. I can’t believe a year has passed already.”

  Aaron laughed. “Neither can they. He’s such a good dog, but I think they would’ve loved it if he’d stayed at his birth weight for a while longer.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “Dobes are big dogs.”

  “Yep, they are. So can I pickup the cake, like, next Tuesday morning?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, walking to the whiteboard and making a quick note. “Anything else?”

  “Not for today,” Aaron replied. “I just thought it would be good to place the order while I was thinking of it and we were passing by.”

  “Well, thank you! It’s always good to start the day with two friendly faces.”

  He started to step away from the door, but then paused. “Before we go,” he said. “Have you heard anything about Wendy’s case?”

  “I know that Dina Kincaid and Tyler Armstrong are working diligently,” I said. “They’re both skilled investigators, so it’s only a matter of time before they crack it.”