Free A Zest for Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 5) by Mary Maxwell Page B

friend Tipper
Hedge bought the house from you, right?”
    “A lovely girl,” Mrs. Flanagan said
in a flat tone. “Although a little rich for my taste with all that hair dye and
makeup.”
    The icy glare in her eyes
strengthened as I considered my next move. I hadn’t seen her in a very long
time, but I could tell Mrs. Flanagan was none too happy with my line of
inquiry.
    “At least my memory’s intact,” I
said, feeling ridiculous. “There are days when I can barely remember my own
name, let alone someone I haven’t seen in such a long time.”
    She smiled. “That makes two of us,
dear. I haven’t seen either of our boys in forever.”
    “Is that right?”
    Her gaze tightened. “Yes, that’s
what I said. It’s been months since they came around.” The taut stare softened
slightly. “Probably has something to do with not wanting to spend time with old
folks.”
    I smiled. “You’re hardly old, Mrs.
Flanagan.”
    “Tell that to Dermot. The last time
he was home, a few weeks before last Thanksgiving, he and his father got into a
pretty heated discussion about money. Dermot kept saying the reason his dad
wouldn’t loan him anything was because he was a cranky old fart.” She snickered
softly at the memory. “As if it’s our fault that he can’t hold a job or…” She
stopped and frowned. “Oh, who wants to hear about all of that?”
    “Every family has challenges,” I
offered. “When my brother was younger, he got a speeding ticket in a school
zone up in Boulder. For some reason, Brody thought mom and dad should pay the
fine. When they refused, he went off like a Roman candle; lots of fizzing and
noise and sparks.”
    “Hmmmm,” she mumbled. “That much is
true, Kate; every family has something.”
    When I finished my tea about twenty
minutes later, after a long and awkward conversation about knitting sweaters
for dogs and making ice packs out of frozen bags of peas, I told Mrs. Flanagan
that I needed to get back to Sky High.
    “So soon?” She got up from the
table and took my arm. “Well, it was a really lovely surprise, Muffin.”
    We were back in the entryway in a
flash. It was obvious she wanted me out of the house. I wasn’t sure why my
question about her sons had struck a nerve, but I suspected it might have
something to do with their youngest child.
    After a final farewell and one of
the least authentic hugs I’ve ever experienced, I was back on the front porch
with the garden gnomes and their yellow-orange eyes.
    “I’m leaving,” I said. “Sorry to
have bothered you.”
    As I started to descend the steps,
I remembered the flash of color I’d seen earlier. When I stopped and turned
around, I felt a small shudder in my chest when I realized it was a gnawed
toothpick with frilled cellophane on one end.
    Exactly like the one I’d seen in
the mouth of the man outside Tipper’s house the previous afternoon.

CHAPTER
18
     
     
    “Is this about work?” Trent barked.
“Or something personal?”
    I was sitting in my car outside the
Flanagan’s townhouse. I’d scooped up the frilly toothpick in a tissue before
leaving the front porch. Since every fiber in my body was telling me it was
related to Tipper’s kidnapping, I wanted to alert Trent immediately. I hadn’t
anticipated that he would be nearly as grouchy as Mrs. Flanagan when I asked
about her sons.
    “It’s about work,” I said. “Did I
call at a bad time?”
    “I don’t think there is a good time
anymore, Katie. I’m up to my eyeballs in one new case after the next.”
    “Busy season, huh?”
    He grumbled something
indecipherable. Then he asked me to get to the point.
    “The point?” I said. “I may have a
lead in Tipper’s disappearance.”
    “Yeah? Did she call you again?”
    “No. I found a toothpick.”
    Trent laughed. “I’m hanging up now,
Katie. I don’t have time for—”
    “Hear me out, okay? Remember the
guy I saw walking the dog at Tipper’s?”
    “Yep.”
    “And he was chewing a