Sky high pies 25- Murder by meringue by Mary Maxwell

Author:Mary Maxwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-10-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

A heavyset guy wearing a bright yellow QuikFlash Couriers windbreaker over a checked shirt and paint-spattered jeans stood outside the entrance to the local delivery service when I pulled up in front around four that afternoon. I recognized his face, but couldn’t remember his name. He was around forty or so, with tousled dark hair, a narrow face and a belly that proclaimed his love of beer and his disdain for exercise. As I turned off the engine and grabbed my purse, I noticed that he was gazing at something on the ground near the entrance to the building.

“Isn’t it sad?” he asked when I joined him on the sidewalk. “Some jerk vandalized the memorial for Amelia Felton.”

I looked down at the pavement. There was a modest array of votive candles, floral bouquets and two small stuffed animals. Someone had used spray paint to write RIP AMELIA on the concrete. But someone else had added a much less schmaltzy sentiment directly beside it: GOOD RIDDANCE, WITCH. I noticed that the W was a different color than the rest, as if the artist had decided the original B was a little too racy for downtown Crescent Creek.

“Well, that’s a shame,” I said. “Who would be so callous?”

The man snorted. “Mimi Ballard,” he said. “I saw her out here about an hour ago.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Kate Reed,” I said. “I know that you’ve been in for breakfast at Sky High, but I don’t believe that we’ve met.”

“And I believe that you’re correct,” he said. “I’m Ward Murphy. My wife and I bought the tow service from Larry Kline a couple of months back. I’ve also been working a few hours for the delivery service to make ends meet and get out of her hair a little bit every day.”

“Oh, that’s right!” I felt my cheeks redden. “Isn’t Antoinette your wife’s name?”

Ward nodded. “Annie’s my one and only,” he said with a proud smile.

“Well, now that my brain’s working again,” I said, “I remember that Harper introduced us on one of your first visits.”

He laughed. “She did, but you guys were crazy busy that morning. We said hello while you were carrying about fifty platters of pancakes.”

“That’s right. We had two unexpected sightseeing buses stop that day.”

“What brings you out this afternoon?” he asked. “I always imagined that you and Julia hunkered down to bake until all hours of the night once you stopped serving lunch.”

“I came by to see Francine Hutton,” I said.

“You just missed all the fireworks,” Ward said, tipping his head toward the QuikFlash entrance. “Wanda was about ready to call the cops, but the woman running dispatch was able to quell the ruckus.”

I smiled. “What happened? Was it a disgruntled customer or employee?”

“Neither,” he said. “It was Hugh Felton. His sister’s the one that was poisoned the other day.”

“What was he upset about?” I asked. “I mean, obviously he’s upset about his sister, but what was he doing here?”

“It’s like they say,” Ward replied. “Money makes the world go around.

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