Free Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7) by Mary Maxwell Page B

dislike
your sixth sense right about now?” she moaned.
    I’d been expecting her to say
something. It had been our busiest back-to-back breakfast and lunch rushes
since I’d taken over at Sky High Pies. Although my grandmother and parents had
often regaled my brother, sister and me with tales of their most frenetic days
when they were at the helm, there’s nothing like living through a madcap session
with nonstop orders, grouchy customers and delivery drivers piling up at the
backdoor.
    “Sorry my intuition was on track,
Jules.” I raised my cup of coffee. “But here’s to you! As brave and courageous
as any chef I’ve ever known!”
    She blew the bangs out of her eyes
and sipped her lemonade. Then she asked if I wanted one of the peppermint
cookies.
    “I’m okay, thanks,” I said. “I’m
going to fix a sandwich before I go into the office and do some paperwork.”
    She smiled, nibbled on a cookie and
swept the back of one hand across her forehead. “I’m going straight home and
into the bathtub when we close,” she said. “And if one of the kids or my
husband interrupts me, it won’t be pretty.”
    We laughed and toasted our successful
day. Then I headed across the room toward the walk-in. I was in the mood for a spinach
tortilla wrapped around roast chicken with pesto mayonnaise, shredded romaine
and mozzarella. But before I reached my destination, I heard Trent calling my
name.
    “Yo! Katie!”
    I glanced over my shoulder and saw
him standing beside Harper in the pass window.
    “Look who I found wandering around
the dining room!” she joked.
    “It’s your favorite deputy chief of
police,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Have a few minutes to talk?”
    I motioned for him to come around
to the swinging door. When he appeared a moment later, I suggested we sit in my
office. He agreed to the idea and started to leave the kitchen until his
wandering eyes locked on the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies cooling on
the back counter.
    “Are those spoken for?” he asked.
    I nodded. “Those are Adam
Martin’s,” I explained. “His youngest broke her arm yesterday. He’s taking
those to try and cheer her up.”
    Trent smiled. “They’d make me feel
better, too.”
    “Will you settle for some coffee
instead?”
    “Not quite as cheerful,” he said.
“But that sounds good.”
    After pouring a cup for Trent, I
grabbed his elbow. “Let’s go, buster. If you behave and mind your manners,
maybe we’ll find a couple of cookies for you after our meeting.”
    “What about the free cupcakes you offered?”
    I shrugged. “Same qualification
applies,” I answered. “Behave and we’ll see how it goes.”
    He groused and grumbled as we
walked down the hall to my office, but the pouting had completely subsided by
the time we were settled on opposite sides of my desk.
    “This isn’t very comfy,” he moaned,
squirming on one of the guest chairs.
    “For good reason,” I said. “If
people get comfortable and stay too long, I won’t get my work done.”
    He rolled his eyes and reached into
one pocket, coming out with a small notebook open to a page covered in notes
and doodles.
    “You brought audio-visual aids?” I
asked.
    Trent ignored the remark, flipping
silently through the notebook until he found what he wanted.
    “Okay, then,” he said, sitting back
in the chair. “Let’s start with the BMW. You told me that it belonged to a
brunette, right?”
    I shook my head. “I told you that I
saw her getting into it. I don’t know if she actually owns it or not.”
    He looked up from the notes. “Are
you in a grumpy mood or something?”
    I shook my head.
    “Then why are you being so
argumentative?”
    “I wasn’t. I simply clarified the
difference between what you said just now and what I told you during our
earlier conversation.”
    He scowled. Then he muttered. And
then he flipped more pages in the notebook.
    “Let’s try again, okay?” He glanced
up, waiting for my response. When I