When Magic Is Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (2 page)

CHAPTER
2

When Harper came through the
swinging door from the dining room a few minutes later, I was still pondering
the bewildering visit by the overconfident lawyer.

“Who on earth was
that
?” Her
eyebrows were arched derisively. “I was all the way up by the front door, but I
heard her snippy tone loud and clear. At first, I thought it was a three-wattle
bellbird. But then I realized that wasn’t possible, so I snuck over and peeked
through the pass window.”

I frowned slightly. “A three-
what
kind of bird?”

“A three-wattle bellbird!” Harper
cried, sounding like an eager
Wheel of Fortune
contestant. “Velma Short
told me it’s one of the loudest birds on earth. She learned all about them on
her latest tropical birding tour in South America.” She paused, flashing a
self-satisfied grin. “Did you know people can hear a three-wattle bellbird up
to a half mile away?”

“I did not know that,” I said,
carrying the spatula and bowl I’d been using to the sink. “But if it comes up
in conversation tonight when I’m at dinner with Zack, I’ll be
so
very
happy that you told me. Thank you, Miss Walking Encyclopedia!”

“You’re welcome!” she exclaimed
with another glittering smile. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

With the brief educational detour
about three-wattle bellbirds, I’d forgotten what Harper had originally asked.
When she repeated the question, I silently wished we were still talking about
the trivia that Velma Short was known to share. The globe-trotting senior
citizen was a good friend of my mother’s and a regular at Sky High, so I’d
heard all about her beloved bird watching hobby for years.

“Well?” Harper said. “Is it a state
secret or something?”

“No, of course not. That was
Francine Tobin. She’s an attorney in Denver.”

“Are we being sued?”

I shook my head and grabbed the
container of freshly toasted coconut on the counter.

“No, but somebody wants to buy us.”

Harper snickered. “
Buy
us?”
The expression on her face was two scoops of curiosity and a heaping spoonful
of puzzlement. “Who is it?”

“Not a clue.” I shrugged and
pointed at the blue envelope on the counter. “But that’s the proposal. If I
ever get around to opening it, I’ll tell you everything it has to say.”

“Maybe it’s the tall, dark and
way
too handsome guy that’s been coming in every day for a week,” Harper gushed.
“He’s been asking a lot of questions about Sky High and your parents and
whether or not I’m happy working for you.”

“How’d you answer that last one?” I
asked, carefully sprinkling more toasted coconut on the cupcakes.

She giggled. “Oh, c’mon, Katie! You
know
what I told him; I couldn’t be happier, the boss was a dream and
every customer was a priceless gem.”

We shared a jaunty laugh. Then I
put the lid on the coconut container and asked Harper if she knew the guy’s
name.

“No, but I’d say he’s from far, far
away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got a British accent,” she explained.
“And he’s incredibly polite, calling me ‘madam’ and ‘miss’ and ‘young lady.’”

“Oh, brother. So he’s laying it on
pretty thick to see if you’ll spill the beans?”

Harper smirked. “About what? I
haven’t told him anything that isn’t already public knowledge. And you know
that I’d never divulge any secrets or sensitive information, right?”

“Of course,” I said. “Just don’t be
bushwhacked by a handsome British gent.”

“Never in a million years,” she
said. “Unless, of course, it was Prince Harry dropping by for a slice of
something sweet.” She raised one eyebrow. “Or Prince William checking to see—”

“Can you put this in the pantry for
me?” I asked, handing her the coconut. “I’ve got to shake a leg. I’m already
running late thanks to Her Royal Lady Lawyer.”

As Harper stored the leftover
garnish in the pantry, I gingerly arranged the cupcakes in three white
paperboard boxes.

“I think you should open the
proposal,” she announced, coming back into the kitchen. “Just to see how much
they’re offering.”

“You can’t put a price tag on
memories,” I said. “My grandmother started Sky High more than forty years ago.
My parents were here for a quarter of a century. And I just barely walked
through the door. I’m not about to sell the place just to satisfy some
patronizing lawyer’s client.”

She smirked playfully. “I’m just
teasing, Katie. I know you’ll never sell this place; it’s in your blood.” She
peered into one of the boxes that I was packing. “Wow, those look awesome! Are
they for the bachelorette shindig?”

“Yep! Thirty-six of these babies
for tonight.” I glanced at the clock on the far side of the kitchen. “Oh,
shoot! I’ve got exactly seven minutes to get out the door and across town or
else Connie Larson will tan my hide.”

“Want me to call and say you’re
running late?”

I smiled. “That’s a great idea! But
make sure she knows I wasn’t dilly-dallying. Tell her a big shot attorney came
in and dangled a golden carrot in front of my face.”

Harper pursed her lips. “I think dilly-dallying
might sound better. If you tell Connie somebody’s trying to buy Sky High, the
entire town will hear about it and swamp the phones tomorrow morning to
protest.”

I closed the top on the last box,
sealed it with a gold embossed Sky High Pies sticker and grabbed my purse.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “Tell her a big shot attorney wearing
six-thousand dollar shoes showed up out of the blue, but leave out the part
about the offer.”

Harper frowned. “I’m gonna leave
out the part about the shoes, too,” she said. “Connie’s got a serious Jimmy
Choo habit. If you mention that lawyer’s fancy heels, you’ll have to listen to
her brag all about the new pair of boots she bought in San Francisco last
month. They cost twice as much as our monthly rent.”

“I promise,” I said, carefully
stacking the boxes of cupcakes. “I won’t ask Connie about her shoes.”

Harper scurried across the room and
opened the door. “Good luck,” she said as I gingerly cradled the boxes and
headed for my car. “I’ll be here for another half hour or so. But if I don’t
see you before I leave, I hope you and Zack have a fun dinner tonight!”

CHAPTER
3

Connie Larson was standing on the
front steps at Crescent Creek Lodge when I arrived fifteen minutes behind
schedule. I pulled into the circle drive, cut the engine and climbed out from
behind the wheel just in time to see her glance at her watch.

“Sorry!” I called. “I had
everything timed perfectly, but then someone stopped by out of the blue.”

Connie was a tall woman with
prematurely silver hair, rouged cheeks and a heart-shaped face. She was ten
years older than me—somewhere around forty or so—and her body was a testament
to yoga, Pilates and dietary willpower. She was always stylish and immaculate,
dressed from head to toe in designer clothes, tasteful jewelry and fashionable
shoes.

“I had every intention to be on
time,” I added. “And I have a witness! Harper will testify that—”

“Don’t worry about it, Katie,” she
interrupted. “The party isn’t starting on time after all. A couple of flights were
delayed because of storms in Atlanta, so two of the bridesmaids won’t even be
here until around six-thirty.”

I carefully lifted the white boxes
from the backseat, closed the door with my hip and started toward the entrance.
Connie held out her arms, offering to help me carry the cupcakes.

“I’m good,” I said. “But you look
bushed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Thornton
was here again last night,” she explained. “He got tipsy, went out on the back
terrace and started singing Barry Manilow songs around midnight.”

“I don’t think I know Mr.
Thornton,” I said. “Is he a regular?”

Connie nodded. “The poor guy lost
the love of his life to cancer. They met when they were kids and he comes here
to grieve. Care to guess her name?”

It seemed too easy, but I went for
the obvious answer. “Mandy?”

“Close,” Connie said, shaking her
head. “It was Sandy. But poor Neville Thornton thought another girl called her
Mandy, so he started serenading her in front of all the other kids with
Manilow’s big hit. I guess that song was one of his mom’s favorites so he heard
it all the time.”

“What happened to Mr. Thornton and
Sandy?” I asked. “Was it happily ever after once recess ended? Or did she turn
on her heel and snub his singing?”

“More the first one,” Connie said.
“They actually got married and had a family together, two boys and one girl.
But then Sandy got really sick and she…” Her eyes welled with tears. “Sorry, I
still get emotional about it. He’s stayed with us every year since we first
opened, so I feel like he’s kind of my second father or something.” She pulled
a tissue from her pocket and dried her damp cheeks. “I’m a total sap, Katie! I
cry because it’s such a touching story.”

“How is it possible I’ve never
heard about them?” I asked. “I may have been in Chicago the past few years, but
my mother usually kept me updated on all the local news.”

Connie shook her head. “Neville and
Sandy didn’t live in Crescent Creek,” she explained. “Both of their families
actually moved to Denver when they were kids. That’s why it seems like fate
meant them to be together; they ended up at the same school again the year
after they met.”

“Then what’s the Crescent Creek
connection?” I asked. “Why does Mr. Thornton come back every year and croon
Barry Manilow songs?”

“He’s the most sentimental man I’ve
ever met,” Connie answered. “Even though they moved away, he comes back every
year to put a bouquet of roses on the place he first saw Sandy.”

“Where’s that?”

“The playground at the elementary
school,” Connie said.

I smiled. “That sounds kind of—”

“Sad and cheesy?” Connie opened the
front door and waited until I’d stepped into the wide entry hall. “Tacky and
weird?”

“I was thinking more poignant and
heartbreaking,” I said. “Do you want the cupcakes in the kitchen?”

“That’ll be perfect. Jasper and his
sister Eloise are handling the bachelorette party. They’ve got two large silver
platters ready for the sweet treats.”

I followed Connie across the foyer,
around a corner and down a long gallery lined with framed pictures from the
hotel’s illustrious past. Originally built as a grand mountain retreat for a
Denver banker and his family, the rambling house had been converted into a chic
hotel by Connie and her husband about ten years earlier. They’d intended to
open a low-key bed and breakfast, but the elegant estate had become immensely
popular after a video from the hotel’s first wedding reception went viral. Over
the years, they’d tripled the number of guest suites and meeting rooms with two
sizable additions.

At the end of the gallery, we
entered the hotel’s large dining room. It had previously served as the original
owner’s library and billiard room, but Connie and Trevor knocked down walls to
create an expansive space with picture-perfect views of the mountains through a
wall of French doors that opened to a wide terrace. With its white tablecloths,
sparkling place settings and stylish décor, the dining room was a favorite
destination for local families celebrating special occasions or travelers
relaxing after a day spent hiking or skiing in the surrounding area.

“We’re expecting a full house
tonight,” Connie said, zigzagging between tables toward the kitchen. “We’ve got
tons of reservations for dinner plus the bachelorette party and a pair of
birthdays.”

“Sounds like business is booming,”
I said.

She chuckled. “Yes, we feel so
lucky and blessed. You know, we took a gamble on this place, Katie.”

When we reached the far side of the
room, Connie paused to peer through the tiny window in a swinging door. “Let me
make sure the coast is clear,” she said. “We had an unfortunate gravy boat
accident the other night.” She looked left and right into the kitchen before
pushing against the door. “It’s safe,” she said with a lighthearted smile.
“There’s no one in here at all.”

I followed her into the kitchen,
put the cupcakes on the counter and admired the ornate silver platters that
she’d mentioned earlier.

“These are gorgeous, Connie.”

She beamed. “My sister gave those
to us for our tenth anniversary last month.”

“Well, they’re stunning.” I gave
her a little wink. “And if they’d fit in my purse, I might be tempted to commit
my first criminal offense.”

We shared a quick laugh and Connie
offered a cup of coffee. “I don’t know about you,” she said, filling two pale
green mugs. “But I need a big jolt of java right about now.”

As I sipped my coffee, she went
into the pantry and came back with a plate of the hotel’s homemade Ginger
Chippers, delicious and chewy gingersnap cookies studded with chocolate chips,
dried cranberries and chopped walnuts.

“These are
so
amazing,” I
said after my first bite. “Where’d you get the recipe?”

“My mother made them when we were
kids,” Connie answered. “They’re an old family favorite.”

“Well, I’m inspired to recreate
them at Sky High,” I said.

Connie laughed. “Or I can just give
you the—”

Before she could finish, the side
door slammed open and a ruddy-faced man dressed in a white chef’s coat lurched
into the room. His name was Jasper Turner. Connie had introduced us when he
joined her kitchen staff the previous month.

“There you are!” he gasped. “I’ve
been looking all over for you!”

Connie quickly put her coffee on
the counter. “What’s going on, Jasper?” She took a few steps toward the
distressed man. “Is everything okay?”

Jasper leaned against the walk-in
cooler, struggling to catch his breath. He was trembling and frazzled; the
expression on his face was a blur of fear and shock. Connie walked over and put
one hand on his shoulder.

“Jasper?” Despite the sudden turn
of events, her voice was calm and steady. “What is it, dear?”

The guy’s face was ashen and his
watery blue eyes were wide with fright. “There’s a body,” he stammered in a
trembling voice. “Eloise found a body in the gazebo.”