Death Before Diamonds (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 10) (16 page)

CHAPTER
35

I met Zack at the front door to Sky
High Pies a half hour after returning home from Trent’s office. His arms were
loaded with shopping bags and he was clutching a bottle of wine in each hand.

“Is everything okay?” I said as he
stepped inside. “Your text made me think that there was some kind of emergency.”

He smiled and asked me to take the
bottles. “Everything’s great, babe.” He put the bags on a bench in the entryway
and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I just need your help carrying the last
thing in from the car.”

“What last thing?” I asked.

He chuckled, a mysterious and
slightly sinister sound that suggested he was up to something.

“Come with me,” he said, offering
one hand. “If you don’t like it, we’ll have plenty of fireplace kindling for
the winter.”

I felt a lump in my throat. He’d
teased earlier in the day about winning a prize in the newspaper raffle, but I
hadn’t given it much thought. I figured it might be movie tickets, free ice
cream from Scoops of Joy or spa sessions at Crescent Creek Lodge. I didn’t
anticipate anything that required two people to carry it into the house.

“Close your eyes,” Zack said as we
approached his car. “It’s in the trunk.”

I followed orders as he guided me
slowly across the parking lot.

“I won an original work of art,
Katie.” I heard his keys jangle as he opened the lock. “It’s signed and
everything.”

After the trunk lid squeaked, Zack
told me it was okay to take a peek. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a
large wood carving of an elderly man wearing a frizzy red wig and what looked
like one of my Aunt Eunice’s old muumuus.

“What do you think?” He was grinning
from ear to ear. “I originally won a pair of knitting needles and four skeins
of yarn, but Karen from Human Resources is apparently deathly afraid of clowns.”

I pointed at the sculpture. “That’s
a clown?”

Zack smiled. “Like the one in
It
,”
he said, pointing at the razor-sharp teeth. “The book by Stephen King.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” I said.
“And knitting needles are probably much more appropriate for Karen from HR.”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah. I
thought so, too.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” I said, folding
my arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss. “It’s amazing how kind and
thoughtful you can be, handsome.”

He winked. “It’s mostly because of
you,” he said. “Like the line from that Jack Nicholson movie.”

“‘You can’t handle the truth?’”

“No, not that one,” he said with a
rolling laugh. “The other one: ‘You make me want to be a better man.’”

“Oh!” I wrapped my arms around his
waist. “I love that movie!”

We kissed again.

“And I love that line, too!” I
added. “I fantasized for the longest time that someone would say it to me one
day.”

A few minutes later, after we’d
carried the raffle prize onto the front porch, Zack stood back to inspect the sculpture.

“Hmmm,” he murmured quietly. “It
looked a lot better in the newsroom.”

I smiled, but didn’t say a word.

“You know what?” he asked a moment
later.

“What’s that, handsome?”

“I think maybe Karen got the better
deal.”

I grinned again and gave him a pat
on the back. “Maybe,” I said. “But she won’t have as much kindling this
winter.”

As we laughed and hugged, Zack told
me that he’d thought of an even better place for the scary clown sculpture.

“Where?” I asked.

“The back of the coat closet at my
place.”

“Won’t he be lonely?” I joked.

“Probably, but—”

My phone chirped in my back pocket.

“Sorry, babe,” I said, retrieving
it and checking the display. “Do you mind if I take this?”

Zack shrugged. “Knock yourself out,
sweetheart. I’ll plop on one of these chairs and relax for a second or two.”

While he did exactly that, I
answered the phone.

“Sky High Pies,” I said. “This is
Kate Reed.”

Instead of someone’s voice, I heard
a squelchy, hacking cough before the caller cleared their throat.

“Miss Reed,” said a woman with a
gravelly voice. “This is Tammy Bancroft from Diamond Galleria in Philadelphia.
I’m returning your call about one of our former employees.”

With the deep voice and hacking
cough, she sounded like a lifelong smoker.

“Yes!” I said. “Thank you for
calling. I didn’t know if I’d hear from you or not.”

She coughed into the phone again, a
rumbling blast that turned my stomach. The noise conjured images of nicotine
stains on her fingers, yellowish-brown teeth in her mouth and a horror-struck
cardiologist on speed dial.

“Well, I don’t know if I can help
you,” she said after finally clearing her throat. “But I pride myself on
impeccable customer service. If somebody calls Tammy Bancroft, then I call them
back.”

“That’s a very admirable trait, Ms.
Bancroft.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “As is a
wise use of one’s time. Now, what can I help you with?”

“I was calling about Arlene,” I
began. “She worked for you several years ago.”

When I paused for her reply, I heard
the unmistakable sputter of a match igniting. I waited for her to inhale the
first puff of her cigarette before I continued.

“She and I were very, very close
when we were younger,” I said, cringing slightly at the fib. “But we lost touch
through the years. And today, believe it or not, I had the sudden urge to get
in touch with her.”

“How nice,” the woman said. “But I
don’t see why you’re telling me about it.”

“Well, I’ve lost her address and
phone number,” I explained. “I thought maybe, you know, because you pride
yourself on impeccable customer service and everything, that you might be kind
enough to share it with me.”

“Arlene no longer works for us,”
she said.

“I know, but do you have her old
employee file or something?”

She exhaled so passionately that I
almost thought I smelled smoke.

“That would be at our off-site
storage facility,” she said. “Arlene hasn’t worked for us in several years.”

“Well…” I sighed to suggest mild
disappointment. “What about this? Can you tell me which last name she’s using
these days?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“That probably sounded strange,
didn’t it? But the last time we talked, Arlene was pretty serious about this
one boy.”

“Earl?”

“Yes, that sounds right. I thought
that maybe if they got married back then, she might’ve taken his last name.”

The woman snickered. “Considering
that Earl ended up wearing a prison jumpsuit instead of a tuxedo, there was no
wedding. Far as I know, Arlene still goes by the same last name. The only thing
that’s changed about that girl, for better or worse, is her zip code. I heard
that she’s somewhere out west these days.”

I thanked Tammy for the update and
asked if she remembered Theo and Rex Greer.

“I believe that Theo worked for
Diamond Galleria as a security guard,” I said. “And his brother attended at
least one company picnic.”

Tammy sighed. “I remember them,”
she said sounding less than thrilled to discuss the two brothers. “One’s dumb
as a box of rocks, and the other
is
a box of rocks. If either of them
has one redeeming quality, then I’m the Queen of England.”

I smiled and pictured a member of
the British royal family wearing a tiara, diamond necklace and diamond drop
earrings with a lit Marlboro pinched between her lips,

“Oh, really?” I increased the
undercurrent of regret in my voice. “Well, in that case, can I ask one final
question?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me
talking to Arlene again,” the woman answered, sounding suddenly irritated.

“You and Arlene didn’t get along?”

“I’ve probably said too much
already,” she confided. “What else did you want to know?”

“How does she spell her last name?”

The woman snorted. “How does she
what
?”

“Spell her last name?” I said
again. “It’s been so long and she always got really mad because I could never
get it right.”

“I can believe that,” the woman
said. “Getting mad was something she did very well.”

I smiled to myself and waited to
see if she would fulfill my request. After enjoying another long, slow moment
with her cigarette, she did exactly that. She told me the name, spelled it
slowly and then repeated it again.

“Did you get that?” she asked.

“I did indeed,” I told her. “And I
really
appreciate you being so helpful and patient.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman said.
“And, if you do get in touch with Arlene, please tell her that I’m still
waiting for her to return that little black dress that she borrowed a week or
so before she quit without notice.”

CHAPTER
36

I crawled out of bed the next
morning, stumbled to the bathroom and flipped on the light. When my eyes
finally opened, I glanced in the mirror above the sink and screamed.

The Bride of Frankenstein was glaring
back at me in all her glory: smeared mascara, pasty complexion and a conical
heap of tousled hair with a zigzag white streak on one side.

“What the heck is that?”

I touched the brittle patch of
hair.

“Oh, no, no,
no
!” My mind
filled with a flashback of the solitary cupcake that I’d taken to bed for a midnight snack. “I fell asleep in the frosting again!”

Luckily, Mrs. Frankenstein and I
both found it amusing, and I was still chuckling a short time later as I
unlocked the door and stepped into the Sky High kitchen. Julia’s car was in the
back parking lot, but I didn’t see her or smell coffee brewing.

“Jules?”

My voice echoed through the silent
room. I dropped my purse, shuffled around the center island and looked through
the pass window. She was sitting in a booth, madly scribbling on the back of a
paper placement.

“Julia?”

Her eyes shot up from the document.
She smiled, nodded and held up one finger.

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry to
interrupt.”

With another grin, she went back to
work, so I retraced my steps, started a pot of coffee and went into the office.
I’d left in such a hurry the previous afternoon that the top of my desk looked
like a jumbled mess again. I quickly organized the folders, cooking magazines
and unopened envelopes to restore some appearance of order.

I’m a packrat
, I thought.
I’m
going to end up on the next season of
Hoarders.

“Ready for this?”

Julia’s voice startled me. I
whirled around in my chair just in time to see her place a mug of coffee on the
desk.

“Sorry, Katie! I didn’t mean to
frighten you.”

I laughed. “I already beat you to
it,” I said. “Frankenstein’s lovely bride greeted me in the bathroom mirror
this morning.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Frankenstein’s bride,” I said. “I
fell asleep in bed with part of a toasted coconut cupcake. Some of the frosting
was in my hair when I woke up.”

She sat in one of the chairs facing
the desk and sipped her coffee.

“I didn’t know that he had a wife,”
she said.

“Frankenstein?”

She smiled. “Yes, but it’s kind of
early to talk about him.”

“It’s kind of early to talk about
anything
,”
I muttered. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Because of the cupcake?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s the Rex
Greer thing. I keep rolling it around in my head, reviewing the clues and online
research to try and figure out what the heck is going on with Rex and his
brother.”

“And?” Julia smiled, sipping her
coffee. “Any progress? Do you have a theory about why he was attacked?”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good
as mine. Rex has yet to give a comprehensive statement about the incident.
It’ll probably be another day or two before anyone can start figuring out what really
happened.”

“And in the meantime?” Her eyebrows
lifted. “What are you planning to do?”

“Mind my own business,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Like that’s possible.”

“I might check online again later,”
I said. “Maybe Theo’s Facebook page will shed some light on the situation.”

Julia drank more coffee, eyeing me skeptically.

“What?” I said. “Do you think I’m
sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“I’m not touching that,” she said,
getting up from the chair and motioning for me to follow. “Come on, Katie. I made
some notes about your cooking class idea, and I also need to ask you a couple
of questions about the prep list.”

I grabbed my coffee and we walked
out of the office, down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Right there,” she said, pointing
at two entries at the bottom of the whiteboard on the wall. “What do those
say?”

I studied the scrawled words. “The
first one is ‘buttermilk biscuits,’” I told her. “And the other one is…” I
paused, frowning at the indecipherable doodle. “Well, I have no idea, but I
hope it isn’t anything we need this morning.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she said with a
confident smile. “We’ll figure it out, Katie. We always do!”

CHAPTER
37

When my eyes blinked open at five-fifteen
that evening, I was confused and disoriented. I got out of the desk chair, stumbled
across the office and glanced in the mirror.

“Somebody looks rumpled,” I said to
my reflection. “Thank goodness there are no witnesses.”

Julia and Harper had scrambled out
the door around four o’clock. I’d finished the daily bookkeeping and returned a
few phone calls before apparently catching up on my lack of sleep with a catnap
in the desk chair.

Although the snooze was a nice
surprise, it left me groggy and listless. I felt like a sloth, everything
moving at a slow and languid pace. My eyelids were slabs of granite on a
slippery slope, inching ever downward with gritty determination.

“Is it too early for bed?” I asked
the drowsy woman in the mirror.

But instead of waiting for her to
answer, I drifted out of the office, down the hall and into the Sky High kitchen.
I retrieved a can of ginger ale from the walk-in, popped the top and took a
restorative sip.

“That’s tasty,” I said to the empty
room. “Be even better with a splash of rum or bourbon.”

I wandered around the silent space,
studying the neatly organized pots and pans hanging on the rack. Some were new,
others were nicked and dented with age. One in particular caught my eye. It was
a cast iron skillet with
NANA REED
printed on the side in white paint.
I’d tagged it with the nickname we used for my grandmother when I was eight.
She’d made an offhand remark about it being one of her favorite possessions
because it could double as both a multipurpose kitchen resource and a weapon
for self-defense.

“I love you, Nana Reed,” I
whispered, reaching up to touch the skillet.

After another revitalizing sip of
my drink, I glanced at the whiteboard that we use to track prep tasks and
special orders. We’d accomplished more than usual that afternoon, so the board
was nearly bare. But along the bottom, in bright green marker, I saw two
atypical entries.

In her delicate and precise
handwriting, Julia had left me a note:
Take the night off!
Directly
below that, in the immaculate lettering that she used to write guest tickets,
Harper had added her own comment:
You deserve it, boss!

I laughed at their thoughtful
suggestions before plucking one of the ink markers from the Mason jar on the
counter to add my own message:
Thanks for being amazing! Nothing around here
would happen without you!

I dropped the pen back into the
jar, finished my ginger ale and walked the empty can to the recycle bin by the
backdoor. Then I pulled out my phone and sent Zack a text about dinner. He
replied almost immediately to say that he’d been delayed at the newspaper and
wouldn’t finish work until around 9.
Sorry, babe
, he added.
See you
ASAP! XO

For a brief moment, I considered
calling my neighbor to see if she wanted to go out for a bite. But then I
decided to head upstairs to my apartment, take a long bubble bath and order a
calzone and salad for delivery from Pepper & Roni’s.

“Laptop,” I said, returning to the
office. “I can at least do more cost comparisons for the cooking classes while
I wait for the food to arrive.”

I was nearly to the desk when my
phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code indicated
the northern and western parts of the state.

“Hello?” I said after the call
connected. “This is Kate.”

“Miss Reed?” said a man with a
resonant baritone. “This is Theo Greer. I understand that you’ve been looking
for me.”