A Zest for Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 5) (12 page)

CHAPTER
30

I climbed back into my car in the
motel parking lot, checked in with Julia at Sky High and listened carefully as
she fretted about delivering a special order to the mayor’s office the next
afternoon.

“I
could
do it,” she said.
“But Emma’s in a play at school and I promised to be there for the first
rehearsal. So…if I left a little early, went home for a quick shower and
stopped at City Hall on the way, it would save you the trip.”

When she’d finished, I told her
that I would take the pies and cookies to the mayor.

“Sure you don’t mind?” Julia asked
with a cheerful lilt.

“Jules?”

“Yes, Katie.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve
saved my sanity?”

She giggled.

“Or,” I continued, “how many extra
deliveries you’ve made over the years when my parents were managing the place?”

“I guess that means you’ll be okay
delivering the mayor’s goodies?”

“More than okay,” I said. “I’m just
grateful that both you and Harper are on my team. It makes life so much
easier.”

Another soft giggle came through
the phone. “It also gives you time to be Nancy Drew.”

“That’s true,” I said.

“Speaking of which,” Julia began,
“there was a message earlier for you…” I could hear her footsteps padding
across the kitchen floor at Sky High. “Harper put it on your desk and…” The office
door creaked open. “…I was up to my eyeballs in cream cheese frosting, but I
think she said…” She shuffled papers and told me to hang on. “Aha!” she
exclaimed victoriously. “Here it is! Oh, how sweet! It’s from your mother.”

The bubbling anticipation that had
been building suddenly fell flat. If she didn’t call my phone directly, the
messages my mother left were usually about unflattering critiques she’d heard
from someone in Crescent Creek. My parents had left Colorado months earlier,
but they maintained close ties with most of their friends. In my mother’s case,
that also included many of the gossipmongers and curmudgeons who were peeved if
their favorite table was already occupied when they visited Sky High for
breakfast or lunch.

“Katie?” Julia said. “Should I read
this to you?”

“Okay, sure.”

“Let’s see…your mom called a few
minutes after three to tell you that…” She paused. “Well, this is weird. She
called to tell you that Dell Flanagan used to own a white water rafting company,
but you shouldn’t mention it if you go see his wife.” There was another brief
pause as Julia walked back to the kitchen. “Does that make sense to you?”

“Yep.”

“Anything you can share?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, brother!” she exclaimed. “Are
we back in the land of the one-word replies?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Katie?”

I suppressed a laugh and thanked
her for telling me about my mother’s call.

“Okay, so is the message related to
Tipper’s disappearance?” she asked.

“Possibly. Since the Flanagan
family once lived in Tipper’s house, I just thought there might possibly be a
connection to what happened the other day.”

“Well, Harper told me that Bobby
used to work for Mr. Flanagan at the rafting company.”

“Oh, so you two were discussing my
mother’s call?”

The line went silent.

“Jules?”

She heaved a sigh. “Well, there was
a lull in the action,” she confessed. “I was caught up on baking. And Harper
was finished setting the dining room for tomorrow. You know how it is, Katie.
We were having a cup of coffee, talking about how much we love your mom. When I
told her about the message, Harper mentioned that her husband worked for Dell
Flanagan about ten years ago.”

“At the rafting company?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Thanks for telling me, Jules. All
of that happened when I was in Chicago, so I never had the pleasure of stopping
by to see Mr. Flanagan’s operation.”

She squawked a laugh. “Pleasure?
That’s a stretch! That man’s mellowed a lot in the past couple of years, but he
was awful back then. Mean and spiteful and rude; it’s no wonder the rafting
business never made it.”

“You know what else?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s odd that my mother left out
that part of the story,” I said. “I kind of remember her talking about the
Flanagans because she and Hannah have been friends for a really long time. But
I don’t recall her saying anything about Mr. Flanagan having a temper.”

“Hmmmm…maybe she was trying to be
discreet?”

“My mother?” I made no attempt to
stifle my laugh. “Are you serious, Jules?”

“Oh, now! Your mother’s an angel!”

“Uh-huh. But she can also be a
little wicked if the mood strikes. I remember her and my dad getting into a
fairly heated discussion about—”

“Hey, Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to cut you off, but my hubby’s
on the other line. We need to figure out who’s taking Will and Shepherd to the
doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course! I’ll talk to you
later, sweetie!”

“See you in the morning,” she said.
“I hope there’s some good news about Tipper really soon.”

After she disconnected, I sat with
the phone in my hand for a few minutes. I scrolled and tapped to find the
picture of Tipper that I’d taken about a month earlier. We’d met for a quick
coffee at Uncommon Grounds on a Sunday afternoon. She’d been giddy and mysterious,
trying to get me to guess the reason for her excited mood.

“I don’t know,” I’d said. “You won
the lottery?”

“Try again,” she’d advised, raising
one eyebrow. “It’s not about money.”

“Um, the gray hairs you found have
started to regress to your natural color?”

She’d laughed, pronounced me
terrible at guessing and then revealed that the source of her happiness was a
new guy she’d met.

“His name’s Kyle,” she’d said in a
fluttery whisper. “I think we were destined to meet, Katie. Like something that
was just meant to be.”

As I stared at Tipper’s photo and
her voice echoed through my mind, I started to wonder if meeting Kyle Gallagher
had actually been something other than kismet. Instead, it seemed like it may
have been a cruel twist of fate.

CHAPTER
31

The cinderblock building was
located on an isolated stretch of Half Moon Road a few miles from the outskirts
of Crescent Creek. It looked lonely and forsaken, like an abandoned keepsake
left beneath a grove of snow-covered trees.

As I pulled up in front a half hour
after leaving the Moonlight Motel, a sagging canopy of swirling gray clouds
added an element of gloom to the setting. A weather-beaten sign above the front
door suggested better days: FLANAGAN’S OUTDOOR ADVENTURES. Built several
decades earlier as a highway outpost for travelers passing through the area,
the structure had been empty for years before Dell Flanagan decided it was the
perfect headquarters for his fledgling white water rafting company. When that
enterprise floundered, the property went into foreclosure.

Although a faded FOR SALE sign was
taped inside the front windows, I doubted if anyone would seriously consider
giving the location another shot. It was too far from town and the years of
disrepair had taken a toll. Splintered cracks in the plate glass window were
patched with peeling duct tape, derelict boxes and bags of garbage were piled
at the edge of the parking lot and an ancient loveseat had been left upside
down near the front door.

“I bet you were a beauty back in
the day,” I said, shutting off the engine and sliding out of the car. “And I
bet you’ve seen some pretty crazy things over the years.”

I pulled the fleece scarf tighter
around my neck and trudged across the pristine blanket of snow. Other than a
few sets of animal tracks crisscrossing the wide expanse, there was no sign of
life. I walked slowly, scouring the ground for any indication that two-legged
critters had visited recently. I knew it was a long shot, but I had a hunch
that there was a connection between the Flanagan family and Tipper’s
disappearance.

I was standing in the middle of the
former parking lot, gazing at the decrepit exterior, when my phone rang. The
screen said it was Zack, calling from his desk at the
Crescent Creek Gazette
.

“How’s my favorite slab of
mantasticness doing?” I asked.

There was no answer for a few
seconds and then I heard Gretchen Goode say my name.

“Oh, my goodness!” I sputtered.
“I’m so sorry, Gretchen! When I saw the ID on my phone, I just figured it was
Zack.”

She laughed softly. “Of course,
Katie. No worries. I can have the handsome shutterbug call later if you’d
like.”

A gust of cold air stung my cheeks
as I blushed. “No, that’s okay. We’re meeting a couple of friends at The Wagon
Wheel tonight, so…” I shuddered as another wintry burst of wind came through
the trees. “Anyway, Gretchen. What’s going on? Is there something I can help
you with?”

“I wanted to place another order,”
she said. “My in-laws are coming next weekend, and I thought maybe one of your
Triple Treat Chocolate Cakes would be a nice surprise.”

“How wonderful! We can absolutely
take care of that for you. Were you planning to pick it up at Sky High or
should we deliver?”

“Maybe Zack could bring it to the
newspaper on Friday morning,” she suggested. “After all, a little birdie told
me that you and he see one another just about every night now.”

I smiled and Zack’s face flashed
through my mind. “The little birdie’s right,” I said. “Things are going really
well.”

I heard her sigh on the other end.
“Oh, Katie! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Whenever two wonderful
people meet and fall in love, it just makes my heart sing with joy.”

“Thanks, Gretchen. That’s a really
sweet thing for you to say.”

“But it’s true! I know how it felt
when I first met all three of my husbands; the woozy sensation whenever I heard
their voices, the dreamy way they made me feel, the electricity as our hands
touched.”

I crunched forward in the snow
while she burbled on about her romantic past. I didn’t know her well enough to
inquire about the two divorces, her ex-husbands or why they’d married in the
first place. But when she finally surfaced for air, I asked if there was
anything else she wanted to order for the upcoming visit by her third husband’s
parents.

“Um…”

I inched closer to the front
windows of the old building. The glass was dimpled and scratched, some sections
were intact and spotless while a few were zigzagged with the gummy remnants of
old adhesive tape.

“Maybe a dozen scones?” I heard
Gretchen say. “Like, blueberry and banana-chocolate chip?”

“You got it,” I said. “I’ll have
those ready for Zack to deliver next Friday so they’re fresh for the weekend.”

After Gretchen praised Sky High and
divulged how many pounds she’d lost to prepare for the imminent family gathering,
I politely explained that I had to get off the phone so I could take care of
some urgent business.

“Of course,” she said. “I just like
talking to you, Katie. I have a tendency to ramble on way too long, don’t I?”

I assured her that the chat had been
a welcome diversion, wished her a good afternoon and disconnected the call. I
kept the phone in my hand as I leaned forward, peering through the glass into
the front room of the old gas station.

“Wow!” I whispered. “That’s a
housekeeping nightmare if I’ve ever seen one!”

The place looked like a tornado had
swept through. Followed by a herd of buffalo. And then a swarm of sugar-fueled
toddlers. Furniture was overturned, papers were scattered on every available
surface and crushed beer cans were sprinkled around like decorative sugar beads
atop a freshly-iced cupcake.

“Hello?” I called, tapping lightly
on the window. “Anybody home?”

I held my breath and listened
closely for a few seconds. But the only sound I heard was the wind slicking
through the bare tree branches overhead.

“Okay, fine. So my hunch was
fruitless. Better safe than sorry.”

I scanned the interior again,
studying the dented filing cabinets and faded signs advertising rafting and
hiking gear. As my eyes drifted across the back wall, they stopped on a large
framed poster. I recognized it instantly from one of my art history classes in
college. It was
Lincoln in Dalivision
, a surreal lithograph by Salvador
Dalí. When you stood close to the image, it appeared to be a collection of
various boxes and figures. But when you moved away, the cubes of color formed a
portrait of Abraham Lincoln.

“Well, Mr. President,” I said
quietly. “This isn’t the most distinguished setting, but you still look pretty
good.”

I smiled at a faint memory of
Professor Steinkamp lecturing the class about Dalí’s fondness for photo
mosaics. Then another gust of wind reminded me that it would be much warmer
behind the wheel of my father’s old Ford Taurus. I took a final gaze around the
dilapidated building, made a beeline for the car and headed back into town to
meet Zack.

CHAPTER
32

The drive from Half Moon Road to
The Wagon Wheel was going smoothly until I turned a corner in downtown Crescent
Creek and noticed two people talking in front of my favorite coffee shop. One
was a woman with long jet-black hair holding a small white dog on a leash. And
the other, dressed in a dark jacket, faded jeans and muddy hiking boots, was
Kyle Gallagher.

I quickly grabbed my phone and sent
a text to Zack:
running behind. c u asap
.

He responded instantly:
how
long?

My thumbs zipped over the tiny
keyboard:
five or ten mins. sorry!

Then I dropped the phone on the
passenger seat, spotted an open parking space in the next block and left the
warmth of the car for the icy sidewalk in front of Shoe Serenade. The owner, a
bouncy redhead named Jade Barnard, saw me get out of the car.

“Hey!” She called after opening the
front door. “I’ve got an
amazing
pair of ballet flats with your name all
over them!”

I waved, promised to stop in soon
and explained that I was running late.

“Story of my life!” she said. “Tell
Zack that I said hi!”

After she slipped back inside her
shop, I started walking toward Kyle Gallagher and the dark-haired woman. As I
gingerly stepped over the slush in the crosswalk, I took a closer look at the
little white dog standing between the pair.

“Holy smokes,” I whispered. “The
bedazzled pink collar.”

When I’d successfully crossed the
street, I began moving at a fast clip. But when I was a few doors down from
where they stood, I realized they were in the middle of a heated argument. I
couldn’t make out anything either one was saying, but the expression on Kyle
Gallagher’s face—pinched, bright red and shuddering with emotion—made it clear
that I should cool my heels until the artillery stopped firing. At one point, I
thought he glanced in my direction, so I quickly walked to the window of Pinky
Newton’s flower shop and peered at the display of tulips, forsythia and roses.

A couple of seconds later, I took a
quick peek and saw the woman stomping away with the white dog. Kyle was on his
phone; huddled against the front of Uncommon Grounds with his back to the
blustery wind.

Give him a chance to cool down
,
advised my inner voice of reason.
No need to engage him if he’s still in
fight mode
.

I kept my eyes locked on Kyle. The
second he lowered the phone, I was on the move again, hurrying to arrive before
he went into the coffee shop.

“Mr. Gallagher,” I said in a light,
casual tone. “We meet again!”

He pivoted in my direction, blinked
a few times in confusion and then grinned. “Hey, Kate. How’s it going?”

“Fine, thanks. How are you holding
up?”

He shrugged. “So-so. I decided to
take a walk and get a coffee. Thought it might be a good way to clear my head.”

I matched his smile for a few seconds
with one of my own before asking where he was staying.

“Sorry?” he hesitated. “Where I’m
what?”

“You told Trent that you were at
the Moonlight,” I said slowly. “But I went by there earlier and my friend Earl
said you weren’t registered.”

I kept my gaze on Kyle’s face. His
eyes narrowed slightly, bounced from left to right for a moment and then
settled on the phone in his hand.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said,
scrolling through a series of texts. “I must’ve been a little confused or
something.” He suddenly looked up. “Because of everything that’s going on with
Tipper and that poor woman who got shot.”

He sounded believable. And the dark
circles under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t slept much lately. But there
was a subtle hesitancy that lingered in the air as he smiled at me; the faint
trace of deceit that I recognized from hundreds of witness interviews that I
conducted as a PI. After waiting for him to say something more, I finally
repeated my original question.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, fumbling with
the phone and nearly dropping it. “I decided to stay at Crescent Creek Lodge.
The last time I was in town, right after Tipper and I started going out, I
stayed at the Moonlight. I must’ve gotten them mixed up when I talked to Trent
earlier.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “And,
like you already mentioned, being confused is understandable considering
everything that’s going on.”

Before I could ask my next
question, Kyle’s phone rang. He checked the screen, answered the call and told
the person on the other end to hold for a moment.

“I need to take this, Kate.”

I smiled.

“It was good running into you,” he
added. “I’m sure we’ll see one another soon.”