Deadly Desserts (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 6) (11 page)

CHAPTER
24

The bank lobby was a hive of hushed
activity. I was standing just inside the front door a few minutes later,
digging through the clutter in my purse, when I heard someone say my name. I
felt my cheeks tinge pink with embarrassment as I looked up and saw Thomas
Green coming my way. After my recent conversation with Dina, during which we
discussed his pale skin and greasy hair, I felt slightly uncomfortable as he
walked toward me. Although there was no chance he was aware that we’d
scrutinized his personal appearance, running into him so soon after the
critique still felt slightly awkward.

“Miss Reed,” he said through a
washed-out smile. “Can I help you with something?”

I glanced at my purse. “Can you
tell me why I haul around so much useless stuff?”

The dull grin blazed brighter.
“You’re human. We’re all creatures of habit.”

“I know, but my habits are making
it difficult to find my ID. I need to cash a personal check and make a deposit
for Sky High. And, as usual, I’m already late for an appointment.”

He pointed at the bank bag tucked
under my arm. “Would you like me to hold that while you look?”

“No, thanks. I’ll get it together
here in a sec.” My hand roamed around in the murky depths of my purse, finding
everything but my wallet.

“Why don’t we step into my office?”
Green suggested. “It’ll be easier for you to search for your ID.” He smiled,
but it looked more like a cadaver’s grimace than a friendly expression. “To be
perfectly honest, I have a couple of questions that I’d like to ask you. I
planned to call sometime tomorrow, but…”

His long, slender arm lifted and
his ashen finger pointed toward a small corner office tucked behind a massive
potted palm.

“Okay, sure,” I said, feeling
obliged to accept the offer. “But I can’t stay long.”

As he lowered the hand, I noticed a
flash of metal on his little finger. It was an oval gold signet ring accented
with a black onyx disk.

“That’s a nice ring, Mr. Green. Is
it a family heirloom?”

He frowned. “If it was, you’d be
looking at a twist tie from a bread bag looped around my pinky instead of a
Tiffany original.”

The flashy ring seemed out of
character for Thomas Green. Between his pale skin, slender frame and beaky nose,
he didn’t look like the kind of guy who shopped at the famous jewelry store.

“Actually,” he said, walking beside
me toward his office, “it was a gift from Mr. Craig. Bank employees receive one
of these on their tenth anniversary.”

I smiled. “That’s very generous.”

“I suppose so…” He moved closer and
lowered his voice. “But I actually think it’s the boss’s way of claiming his
property.” He followed the strange remark with a brief smile. “Although I
probably sound ungrateful right about now, so…” He waited while I stepped into
his office and claimed one of the tufted leather chairs. “Sorry about that,
Miss Reed. I hope you’ll forgive me for being imprudent with my words.”

“Don’t you worry about it.” I
started searching through my purse again. “I hate to be rude, but—” His odd
comment echoed through my mind. “Did you say the ring was a way for Mr. Craig
to ‘claim his property’?”

He nodded and sat behind the
pristine desk. The dark wood gleamed and the few items on the surface—a lamp,
business cards in a small holder, a writing blotter framed in black
leather—were neatly arranged. There was a small silver picture frame near the
phone. At first, I was surprised that someone so dispassionate and cold would
keep a personal photograph on his desk. But the initial flicker of surprise
vanished when I saw the woman in the image. Before I could say her name, Green
reached over and brushed a speck of dust from the frame.

“That was taken at last season’s
community theater cast party,” he said, angling the photograph away from my
view. “We did
Taming of the Shrew
.” His pupils dilated noticeably as his
gaze lingered on the picture. “It’s really just a silly memento from the White
Elephant party that the cast and crew do after every show.”

I smiled, but decided not to
comment on the photograph or his explanation. Instead, I asked him to tell me
more about Nathaniel Craig and the commemorative jewelry given to bank
employees.

“What do you want to know?” Green
asked.

“Does he give something to everyone
who works here for ten years?”

He answered with another subtle
nod.

“Well, Lacy was with the bank
forever. I don’t remember her wearing a ring like that.”

“Oh, no,” Green said with a smile.
“Men get signet rings; women receive a diamond tennis bracelet.”

“I see. And how many expensive
Tiffany rings and bracelets has Mr. Craig presented since you started with the
bank?”

He narrowed his eyes, contemplating
the question with great concentration. “Well, I think it’s four…no, it’s five,”
he said. “Counting myself. There’s Annabeth Warren; she’s a loan officer. And
two of the ladies in the back office, Jane Cromwell and Sarah Martin. And Benny
Calhoun, although he’s…no longer with us. I found his ring in his desk
afterward. Mr. Craig doesn’t know this, but I donated it to the community
theater costume department.” There was a small pause before he finished the
roster. “Anyway, besides those employees, there was another bracelet that went
to someone who didn’t actually work at the bank. From what I heard, it was presented
to one of Mr. Craig’s
special
friends as a sort of consolation prize.”

From the deep frown and somber
tone, I guessed that Green disapproved of the bank president’s decision. But I
didn’t want to pursue that thread at the moment. Instead, I expressed my
condolences about the death of Benny Calhoun. Green chuckled and smiled before
explaining that the man had been fired a few weeks earlier.

“Sticky fingers,” he said. “But I
heard that he was also stalking Lacy, so…it was for the best.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a creep. He followed her
around, constantly asked her to go out for drinks after work and he even showed
up at her house one Saturday afternoon.”

“Uninvited?”

Green nodded. “Benny claimed he was
visiting a neighbor and just wanted to be gracious, but Lacy got the feeling he
wanted her to ask him inside.”

“But she didn’t?”

“Of course not! Like I said, the
guy was a creep. Heck, I think he’s even dangerous; I wouldn’t be surprised if
the papers that he sent to Lacy—the ones I gave you for the police—were somehow
related to her death. I didn’t look at them myself, of course. But Benny
Calhoun’s a loose cannon; there’s no telling how far he’d go to make Lacy bend
to his will.”

The odd phrase rolled off Thomas
Green’s tongue as if he’d said it a million times. As if it was a line of
dialogue from a play. Or something he’d rehearsed for another type of
performance. The longer we talked and I studied the expression on his face, the
more I sensed that he was on a mission to focus the Lacy Orvane investigation
on the former bank employee.

“Did you ever hear Mr. Calhoun
threaten Lacy?” I asked.

Thomas Green’s left eye twitched
for a moment. Then he said, “More than once.”

“What did he say?”

“That she would bend to his will,”
Green said again. “That she would be his happily ever after.”

I forced myself not to smile. It
was fairly obvious that Green was delivering something prepared instead of
spontaneous answers.

“And you know what else?” he asked.

I smiled. “What’s that?”

“It’s a good thing Mr. Craig got
rid of him,” Green continued. “He wasn’t cut out to be the next president of
Crescent Creek Bank. With him gone, I can take over when the torch is passed.”

“You make it sound like Mr. Craig
is getting ready to retire.”

“Plenty of people wish he would.”
Green’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. “They think he’s overstayed his
welcome already.”

“Why do they feel that way?”

Another brief flash of irritation
crossed the man’s face. “Because he’s too controlling and demanding. And he’s
old-fashioned; I mean, what financial institution doesn’t offer online banking
in this day and age?”

“Wow! That is surprising. Although
I’ve never heard anything but praise for Mr. Craig.”

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its
cover, Miss Reed. The man is a snake—a lying, cheating snake.” Green’s body
stiffened and he took a long, deep breath. “But maybe we can discuss that
another time, Miss Reed.”

“Another time, of course,” I said
with a grin. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was prying, Mr. Green.”

He chuckled faintly. “You weren’t,
Miss Reed. But I’m not comfortable discussing the situation at great length on
bank property.” He turned in his chair and glanced briefly at the photograph on
his desk. “What did the police say about the pages from Benny Calhoun?” he
asked. “Do you think they’ll arrest him soon?”

I shrugged. “That’s not for me to
say, but you could always ask Detective Kincaid.”

Thomas Green shook his head,
averting his eyes at the same time. “No, I don’t think that…” He took another
breath. “I suppose it’s not really my place to speculate. I mean, even
if
I knew something more, I don’t really want to stick my nose where it doesn’t
belong.”

“Hang on,” I said. “If you have
additional evidence or you’ve found something that might be helpful to the
investigation, you need to talk to Detective Kincaid immediately.”

He nodded. “I don’t understand why
they haven’t arrested Benny Calhoun,” he said. “It’s obvious from those pages I
found in Lacy’s desk that he was following her and the married guy. And if he
was—”

“Pardon the interruption,” I said.
“I thought you told me that you hadn’t looked at the notes you found in Lacy’s
desk.”

He blinked. “Well, maybe a quick
peek. This has all been so upsetting and confusing, you know? I didn’t mean to
mislead you.”

“The most important thing you can
do is be forthright with the police. If you know more about what happened,
whether it involves Benny Calhoun or someone else, please let them know.”

“I will,” he said. “I just think
they should look into Benny Calhoun’s involvement. I mean, somebody needs to do
something about what happened to Lacy!”

“The police
are
doing
something about it,” I said firmly. “And, if you’re reluctant for any reason to
talk with Detective Kincaid, I’d be willing to go back with you to the
station.”

The frown tightened. “That’s not
necessary. I’ll call her a little later today. I should tell her that I looked
at Benny Calhoun’s notes so there’s no confusion about the matter. But I’ve got
a lot on my plate right now, so I want to finish up a few things here at the
bank before I do anything else.”

CHAPTER
25

It was around five-thirty that
afternoon when I walked into Portia Pearson’s furniture store. The showroom was
empty and hushed. All of the vignettes looked like photographs from
House
& Garden
or
Elle Décor
; chic, stylish and pristine. As I walked
through the room toward where Daphne Wright was whispering into her phone, I
noticed the price tag on a chandelier that resembled a Russian spacecraft from
the Cold War:
Inspired by Sputnik!
Sale
Price $4,850!

I fought the urge to laugh.
Nearly
five thousand dollars
, I thought.
For a bunch of light bulbs stuck on
rusty lead pipes
.

Daphne raised one hand and gestured
to let me know she’d be off the phone in a jiff. While I waited, I perched
gingerly on a leather love seat and checked my nails. I’d used a new color to
polish them the previous night after Zack left.

“Hmmm,” I murmured softly. “I guess
Sheer Ballet Pink was a good choice after all.”

“What was that?”

I looked up to find Daphne standing
beside me. A quick glance revealed how she’d managed to cross the room without
detection: pink fluffy bedroom slippers.

“Oh, gosh!” She put one hand over
her mouth when she noticed me staring at her feet. “I forgot to change back
into my heels.”

“It’s fine. I think comfort is
essential.”

Her cheeks were bright red. “I
know, but Portia gets
so
mad if I’m not, like, totally professional.
It’s just that she keeps the thermostat on, I don’t know, the subzero North
Pole setting and the place is always freezing!”

“You look fine,” I said, reaching
into my bag for the Sky High coffee mug I’d packed earlier. “Oh, shoot! Do you
mind holding this for a sec?”

She took the mug without question
as I quickly rummaged through my bag. I kept up a running commentary the whole
time, apologizing for being disorganized and stopping by without an
appointment.

“That’s no problem,” Daphne said,
clutching the mug. “Can I help with something?”

“I had a stack of paperwork for the
food festival to give Portia, but I’m starting to think that I left it back on
my desk at Sky High.”

Daphne shrugged. “Well, she’s not
here anyway. I’m minding the store while she runs to the post office and bank.”

“Oh, okay…” I stopped the charade,
took the mug and dropped it into my bag. “Then I guess I’ll just…” I pretended to
be deep in thought. “Oh, you know what? I think I left my compact downstairs
the other day. You know, in all the hubbub and confusion?”

She nodded sadly. “The day that
Lacy was…”

Neither of us wanted to complete
the thought, so I asked if she’d mind running downstairs to see if the missing
face powder was in the conference room.

“The compact is bright pink,” I
explained. “With my initials on the top and a little piece of masking tape on
the bottom where I wrote my locker combination. I’ve had it since junior high,
so it’s kind of a special keepsake.” I paused, stuck out my lower lip and did
my best to appear crestfallen. “Do you mind checking for me?”

“Oh, I can totally do that,” Daphne
said, walking toward the stairs that led to the lower level. “Be right back!”

As soon as she was gone, I
scrambled over to Portia’s desk, pulled a plastic bag from my purse and slipped
it over the Russian nesting dolls that always sat beside her calculator. She’d
told me once that they were left behind by a crabby toddler, so I knew they
weren’t a priceless collectible or vintage family memento. She’d also confided
that they’d become her good lucky charm, something she held each morning to
ensure the day would be highly lucrative. I felt guilty taking them, but it was
for a good cause. I also knew they’d be easy to return in a few days during
another impromptu visit.

I’d barely concealed the purloined
tchotchkes in my bag when I heard Daphne calling my name.

“I didn’t see your compact,” she
said, returning to the showroom floor. “But I’ll totally keep an eye out for
it.”

“That would be awesome! I’m sorry
to interrupt your day like this, Daphne. I probably should’ve called first to
make sure it was okay to stop by.”

She frowned. “Why would you do
that? This is a furniture store; people come in and out all the time.”

“Well, of course, but I’m still…”
She was smiling now, a slanted grin that told me there was no need to
apologize. “Okay then! I’ll be going and you can get back to…whatever you do
when there’s no one here.”

She glanced around at the empty
room. “Want to know the truth?”

I nodded.

“I’m actually going through the
classifieds,” she confessed. “I’ve been here way too long. I want to find
something that challenges me and gives me a chance to use my degree.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m certified to teach, but
thought this would be more fun.”

“But it’s not?”

She made a face. “Oh, it’s
so
not fun. But there’s a bunch of other personal stuff going on, so…” The
lighthearted tone had darkened and her smile was fading fast. “Anyway, Miss Reed.
It was nice to see you. I’ll tell Portia that you stopped by.”

I thanked her again and headed to
the car. When I’d climbed behind the wheel, I dialed Dina’s number. She didn’t
answer, so I listened to her greeting and left a quick message.

“I need a favor,” I said. “And I
know you’re really busy. But it might just help you crack the Lacy Orvane case
so—” The line beeped with the incoming call alert. “—so give me a buzz, please!
Okay? Okay!”

I quickly toggled to the second
line and heard the warm and melodious voice of the most handsome photographer
in all of Crescent Creek.

“Hey, babe?” Zack said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against
the seat. “I love you right back, handsome.”

“Whew,” he said. “That’s a relief.”

“Did you think I’d changed my
mind?”

“Not really. It’s just that
Winnie-the-Pooh thing.”

I laughed. “What Winnie-the-Pooh
thing?”

“Oh, you know…” I could hear the
slight tinge of self-consciousness in his voice, the faint flicker of discomfort
that surfaced whenever he revealed the adorable, sweet center of his impossibly
caring heart. “It’s something like, ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”

“That’s it exactly,” I said softly.
“And I agree; I always want to be sure of you, too.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could
hear his deep, resonant breathing.

“There’s one more Winnie-the-Pooh
line that I like just as much,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“I think it’s something like, ‘It’s
so much more friendly with two.’”

Zack laughed. “You’ve got it word-for-word,
babe,” he said. “That’s it exactly: ‘It’s
so
much more friendly with
two.’”