Chocolate Most Deadly (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by Mary Maxwell

me?”

CHAPTER
8
     
     
    It took less than fifteen minutes
to explain my sudden departure to Julia, change my clothes and return calls
from two special order customers who would only talk to me.
    “But weren’t you planning to go
later in the afternoon?” Harper asked as I headed for the front door. “Izzy
Yoder is coming in sometime soon to talk with you about her mother’s birthday
cake.”
    I stopped in the middle of the
dining room. “We don’t have an appointment,” I said. “Did she just call?”
    Harper nodded. “From the road.
She’s running errands and asked if you were here.”
    “Well, please apologize and tell her
that something unexpected came up,” I said. “And maybe ask if I can call her
tonight after eight. We should be back by then.”
    Harper smiled. “I’ll try, but you
know how Izzy can be.”
    “Yes, I do!” I turned and resumed
my trek toward the door. “She can be an absolute angel.” I grabbed the handle
and gave it a tug. “Or she can be a wildcat out for blood.”
    Harper responded with a nervous
giggle. “Well, I hope she’s wearing her halo and wings today or I’ll be turning
in a request for hazard pay and workmen’s comp.”
    I gave one final goodbye wave,
closed the door and hurried down the front stairs. Viveca’s midnight blue BMW
flew around the corner and up the driveway as I hit the bottom step.
    “I figured it might be faster if I
drove,” she shouted above an old Alan Jackson song blaring from the speakers.
“You okay with country music?”
    I popped open the passenger door,
slid in beside Viv and buckled my seatbelt. “I’m okay with anything that’ll get
us to Denver and back home again in one piece.”
    As we drove through Crescent Creek,
I sent a quick text to Trent. He’d mentioned a detective friend at the Denver
Police Department, and I thought it might be a good idea to get the guy’s
contact info before Viveca and I reached the city.
    Why do you need Adam’s number? Trent responded in typical overprotective mode. Something wrong?
    I was sending a quick reply— Everything
okay with— when my phone rang and Trent’s name appeared on the screen.
    “Viv, I’ve got to take this,” I
said.
    She smiled and lowered the volume
on Alan Jackson singing “I’ll Love You All Over Again.”
    “Hey, Trent?” I said as soon as the
call connected. “Can you just shoot me Adam’s number? I’ll explain everything
when you get back from Grand Junction.”
    He groaned. “Uh-oh. That’s a sure
sign that you’re in some sort of trouble.”
    “No, it’s not. But it is a
sure sign that I can’t really talk right now.”
    “What’s the matter, Miss Reed?” he
said in his Bart Simpson voice. “Cat got your tongue?”
    I told him that I wasn’t joking. I asked
him again to send Adam Caldwell’s telephone number. Then I announced that I was
hanging up.
    “Kate, don’t do that!”
    “Jeez Louise,” I said. “What is
it?”
    “I’m not coming back until
tomorrow,” he answered. “The stenographer had some kind of seizure this morning
before we could finish up. I have to stay over one more night.”
    “That’s fine,” I said. “We can do
dinner another time.”
    “Thanks. I knew you’d understand.”
    “I hope the stenographer’s okay.”
    “She is,” Trent said through a
light burst of static. “I guess her doctor gave her a new prescription and it—”
    The line went dead before he
finished describing the woman’s condition. I tapped my phone, sent a quick text
and reminded him to forward the phone number for his friend with the Denver PD.
A couple of seconds later, he replied to my note: Sorry. Call dropped. Adam
Caldwell is at  303-555-9807.
    “Was that your ex?” Viveca asked
after I put away my phone.
    “It was.”
    “Uh-huh,” she murmured. “I thought
so.”
    I turned to catch a better look at
her expression, but she was concentrating on the semi that was slowing to a
stop in the road ahead.
    “Why’d you think