Dropped Dead in Cherry Hills Read online

  Tiffany didn’t seem fazed by George’s rebuff. She merely dropped her arm back to her side. “I’m new.”

  “Everything okay?” Jessie asked Tiffany. “You were outside for quite some time.”

  “I just broke the news to Bill, my editor.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Kat said. “I know you and Aaron only worked together a short time, but it—”

  “I’m hoping this will be my big break,” Tiffany interrupted with a squeal.

  Kat’s condolences died in her throat. If she didn’t know better, she would say the young reporter almost looked happy that her colleague had died.

  “I told Bill what happened, and he’s on his way over here right now.” Tiffany clutched Kat’s arm, her lips curving up into a huge smile. “With any luck, he’ll let me report on Aaron’s death.”

  Kat took a step back, easing out of Tiffany’s grasp. “You mean you want to write his obituary?”

  “I mean I want to investigate his murder.” Tiffany danced a little jig, as if she couldn’t contain her excitement.

  “Murder?” George squinted at her. “You one of them crime reporters or somethin’?”

  “Not yet, but I hope to be soon.”

  “Well, you just stay away from me then.” George scooted to the edge of his stool. “You too, Kat. I don’t need you women with a knack for courtin’ death hangin’ around me. At my age, I’m already pushin’ my luck.”

  Kat ignored him, focusing instead on Tiffany. “I don’t think Aaron was murdered. It’s more likely his heart gave out.”

  “Kat’s right,” Jessie chimed in. “He was sitting there, and then he fell over. Classic heart attack.”

  “It wasn’t a heart attack,” Tiffany said. “I talked to one of the EMTs. He said Aaron went into anaphylactic shock.”

  Jessie lifted her palm to her chest. “Anaphylactic shock?”

  “You mean he ate something he was allergic to?” Kat asked.

  Tiffany bobbed her head. “He had a nut allergy.”

  “A nut allergy!” George looked appalled. “Can’t fathom not bein’ able to snack on nuts.” As though to punctuate his point, he broke off a huge chunk of his pecan pie and shoved it into his mouth.

  Kat shifted her gaze to Aaron’s booth. Her eyes landed on the water glass that had shattered on the floor before traveling up to the half-empty milkshake glass still sitting on the table. “All Aaron had was a vanilla shake. There’s no nuts in that.”

  “You’re right.” Jessie relaxed a little. “If he ate something with nuts, it didn’t come from my restaurant.”

  “I’m not saying you killed him,” Tiffany assured her. “I’m just pointing out that somebody did.”

  “Tiffany,” Kat said, “I think maybe you’re jumping to conclusions. There’s no evidence that anybody killed Aaron.”

  “There’s no evidence somebody didn’t either.”

  Jessie folded her arms across her chest. “Well, if he did eat nuts, he didn’t get them here.”

  “But you admit they came from somewhere, right?” Tiffany pressed. “And if we find out where, we’ll know who murdered him.”

  “Or, we’ll discover this was a tragic accident and Aaron wasn’t murdered at all,” Kat countered.

  Tiffany shook her head. “This was no accident.”

  Kat and Jessie exchanged skeptical glances.

  Tiffany tilted her chin up. “All right, then. If you guys are so convinced this was all a big mistake, where’s Aaron’s EpiPen?”

  George scrunched up his nose. “Epic-what?”

  “EpiPen,” Tiffany repeated. “It’s this thing you use to inject something into your thigh when you go into anaphylactic shock. Anybody with a severe allergy knows you don’t leave home without it.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t get to it in time,” Kat proposed.

  Kat expected Tiffany to issue a rebuttal, but instead she spun on her heel and stomped over to Aaron’s table.

  Jessie trailed after her. “What are you doing?”

  Tiffany plopped into the booth seat Aaron had occupied only twenty minutes earlier. “Checking his briefcase.” She pushed the milkshake glass aside and dragged the still-open briefcase closer.

  Kat and Lisa crossed the room to join Jessie. The three of them watched while Tiffany flipped through a stack of papers. After a moment she flung the papers aside and reached into the case’s inside pocket, coming up with a handful of items ranging from business cards to prescription bottles to pens. From what Kat could see, the pens all looked to be of the ink variety.

  Tiffany sat back, a satisfied quirk to her lips. “No EpiPen.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t on him?” Jessie asked. “Maybe he kept it in his jacket pocket.”

  Tiffany shook her head. “The EMTs would have found it.”

  “In that case, maybe he didn’t have one,” Kat said.

  “I just saw it in his briefcase this afternoon,” Tiffany informed them.

  “Then he took it out and forgot to return it,” Jessie said. “It’s probably sitting somewhere in his office.”

  Tiffany draped her arms along the back of the booth. “I can check his desk, but he wouldn’t have left it there. We work out of cubicles. Nobody keeps important stuff there. That means whoever killed him had to have taken it.”

  “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say somebody did want Aaron dead,” Kat said, knowing they wouldn’t get anywhere until they addressed Tiffany’s theory. “They’d not only have to take his EpiPen, but they’d also have to get him to ingest nuts, right?”

  Tiffany jumped out of the booth seat. “Right.”

  Kat spread her palms. “Then how did they get him to eat the nuts? He’s not going to put them in his mouth willingly.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Obviously they slipped it into something without him knowing.” She looked around before aiming her finger at the milkshake glass. “Like that.”

  “You don’t think he would notice if there were nuts in his milkshake?” Kat countered. “Even if they had been run through the mixer, there would still be little chunks left to clue him in that something wasn’t right.”

  Tiffany traced the edge of her lower lip with one knuckle before snapping her fingers. “Or they used some kind of nut oil. That would be virtually undetectable.”

  An all-consuming silence settled over the group. Tiffany’s idea had merit, Kat had to concede. How hard would it have been for someone to add a little oil to Aaron’s milkshake?

  The others appeared to be asking themselves the same question. Jessie had blanched. Lisa’s lips were parted, her eyes fixed on Aaron’s milkshake glass. George was the only one who didn’t seem concerned. Kat wasn’t even sure he was still listening to them. His pecan pie had commanded his full attention.

  Something moved across the room. Turning, Kat saw the orange tabby was back, taking shelter under the same table as earlier. She wondered how long he had been there. Given the commotion that had ensued after the paramedics showed up, it would have been easy for him to sneak back inside undetected.

  His paws were crossed in front of him, and his nose was tilted up. If Kat didn’t know better, she would say he looked smug. Was it possible he understood what had happened to the man who had protested his presence so vehemently?

  Goosebumps broke out over Kat’s arms as she surveyed the group gathered around her. She didn’t know if Aaron’s death had been facilitated by someone here, but she had the eerie sensation at least one other person felt just as smug about his passing as the orange tabby.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kat was still troubled by the question of whether Aaron’s death had been accidental or intentional when a forty-something man stormed into Jessie’s Diner. He swung the door open so hastily that Kat feared the glass pane might shatter when the bell affixed to the top clanked back into place.

  “Bill!” Tiffany’s face lit up, her blue eyes sparkling beneath all that black eye makeup.

  Bill joined them at the counter. Unlike his young reporter, the plain, brown-haired, brown-eyed man’s only distinguishing characteristic was a goatee that protruded from his chin like a small rodent.

  “I rushed over here as soon as you called,” he said. His gaze rested on Jessie, Lisa, George, and Kat in turn before landing squarely on Tiffany. “Is it true? Aaron’s really dead?”

  Tiffany nodded. “Somebody poured nut oil into his milkshake.”

  Jessie held up her hand. “Hold on, now. We don’t know that.”

  Tiffany shrugged. “It makes the most sense.”

  “A lot of things could have happened,” Jessie said. “He might have eaten something earlier and had a delayed reaction. Or maybe he’s allergic to more than just nuts. He could have been stung by a bee, for all we know.”

  George whipped his head around. “You got bees in here?”

  “No. I’m just trying to keep an open mind.”

  George didn’t look convinced. His eyes darted from left to right as though he could visualize a swarm of honeybees buzzing in front of him.

  Bill shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “So nobody knows how Aaron died?”

  “The paramedics said anaphylactic shock,” Tiffany replied. “And since he was only allergic to nuts, there must have been some kind of nut derivative in his milkshake.”

  Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t put anything in that shake except the usual. Milk, ice cream, and vanilla flavoring. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Kat held her breath as Jessie and Tiffany glowered at each other. The tension between them was palpable, and it was clear neither one was willing to back down.

  After a long moment, Tiffany wheeled toward Bill. “So, what do you think? Can I do a story on this?”

  “Let’s n
ot get ahead of ourselves.” Bill, who had been in the middle of reaching for an order pad under the counter, held up his find. “Mind if I borrow this? I left my notepad at the office.”

  Although Jessie waved her approval, her mouth compressed into a thin, white line. Kat felt a little sorry for her. No matter how popular her restaurant was to the people of Cherry Hills, it wouldn’t be good for her reputation if the Courant publicly blamed Jessie’s Diner for Aaron’s death.

  Bill grabbed a pen from the basket near the register. “I’d like to hear all the facts before I decide whether this is fit for our readership.”

  “We don’t have any facts yet,” Jessie said. “The truth is, no one standing here knows for sure why Aaron had a reaction the way he did.”

  Bill nodded. “Okay. You’ve got a point there. We may need to wait until he’s autopsied.”

  “For real?” Tiffany wrinkled her nose. “Tox screenings can take weeks. By then this will be old news.”

  “We have a responsibility to do our due diligence,” Bill told her. “And that means getting our facts straight.”

  Tiffany jammed her hands on her hips. “Well, here’s a fact for you. Aaron’s EpiPen was stolen.”

  “Or misplaced,” Jessie piped up.

  Tiffany shook her head. “I saw it in his briefcase.” She aimed her finger at Aaron’s abandoned table. “That very same briefcase right there.”

  “That was this afternoon, right?” Lisa asked.

  Tiffany swayed backward, as though she were startled by Lisa’s decision to join the conversation. “Yeah. So?”

  “So, he could have moved it somewhere else between then and now.”

  Tiffany dismissed Lisa’s comment with a flick of her wrist. Jessie, on the other hand, shot her cook a grateful smile, obviously pleased by the support.

  “Does anybody know where this Pen is?” Bill asked.

  “I’m sure his killer does,” Tiffany replied.

  “You’re assuming somebody killed him,” Lisa said.

  Tiffany’s nostrils flared. “Of course somebody killed him. You think his EpiPen just got up and walked off right before he happened to need it?”

  Bill stepped between them. “Now hold on a second. There’s no need to start a fight over this.”

  Tiffany and Lisa glared at each other for a few more seconds before they each took a step back. Neither one looked happy with the situation. Kat couldn’t blame them. She knew as well as anyone how high tensions could run after a suspicious death.

  The only person who appeared to be remotely enjoying himself was George. His eyes shone as they shifted back and forth between the women. Nabbing the front-row seat at a catfight was probably the most excitement he’d had in weeks.

  Reminded of cats, Kat checked the far table. The orange tabby was still there. He had curled up against the wall and was watching the humans with one yellow eye pried open.

  Bill rubbed his goatee, his gaze roaming around the dining area. When he spotted Aaron’s briefcase, his hand fell back to his side. “What’s Aaron’s case doing open?”

  “Tiffany did that when she was looking for the EpiPen,” Lisa told him.

  Tiffany shot her a dirty look. “It was already open.”

  Bill eyed her. “But you went through it.”

  “Yeah. So? What would you have done?”

  Bill ignored the challenge in her tone. “You don’t know what’s in there. He could keep confidential information on his sources inside that case.”

  “Confidential? For real?” Tiffany rolled her eyes. “He writes opinion pieces.”

  Bill didn’t respond. Instead, he tossed the order pad and pen onto the counter and walked over to Aaron’s abandoned table.

  Tiffany followed him. “What are you doing?”

  “Gathering up his stuff.” Bill straightened some papers before stacking them neatly inside the case. “Anything in here that doesn’t have to do with the Courant belongs to his family.”

  “Or the police,” Tiffany countered.

  Bill stopped what he was doing and pressed his palms flat on the table. When he spoke, Kat detected the first traces of exasperation in his tone. “Tiffany, I realize you think human interest articles are a waste of your talent, but it’s what our readership wants.”

  George stuck his hand in the air. “Not me. Nothin’ gets the juices flowin’ like a good murder mystery.”

  Tiffany rewarded George with a giant smile. “See? Some people appreciate good journalism.”

  “Our last readership survey indicates the opposite.” Bill grimaced. “Let me rephrase. Naturally our readers want good journalism. But they’re looking for upbeat stories. They want advice on how to dress fashionably on a budget, gardening tips, and recipes they can try at home.”

  Tiffany stuck her finger in her mouth in a mock gag.

  “Don’t give me that,” Bill scolded. “You saw the survey results.”

  “I didn’t get no survey,” George interjected.

  Bill slammed Aaron’s briefcase shut and snapped the clasps into place. “We’re not doing any true crime stories. That’s my final word.” He headed for the front door.

  Tiffany chased after him. “You’re making a big mistake. Aaron Moskowitz was murdered. Don’t you think his neighbors want to hear about that?”

  George bobbed his head, his wispy gray hair fanning over his forehead. “I sure do.”

  Bill stopped and turned around, Aaron’s briefcase smacking against his leg. “Think about what you’re saying, Tiffany. And think about Aaron’s family.”

  “What family?” she said. “He lived alone.”

  “What about his parents and siblings back in Chicago? How are they going to feel when they find out you’ve been running around spouting accusations that aren’t true?”

  Tiffany tilted her chin up. “It is true. And whether you let me write about it or not, I intend to prove Aaron was murdered.”

  Bill stormed out the door without another word. Tiffany stayed close to his heels, shouting out pleas for him to reconsider. Kat had to admire the young reporter’s tenacity. With her ambition, it wouldn’t take her long to land a job at one of the national papers.

  “Well,” Jessie said, sinking onto the stool next to George, “I certainly hope that’s the end of that. If I never hear another conspiracy theory centered around nuts, it will be too soon.”

  George pushed his empty plate aside and swiveled toward her. “Hey, Jess. You hidin’ that pecan pie from me? I’m ready for a second helpin’.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You seem tense,” Andrew Milhone said, draping his arm around Kat’s shoulders as they sat side by side on her living room couch.

  Kat didn’t answer right away. Instead, she focused on petting Matty. The yellow-and-brown tortoiseshell was snoozing in her lap without a care in the world. At that moment, Kat couldn’t help but envy the lazy thing.

  Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to shake Tiffany’s accusation from her head. Could Aaron Moskowitz really have been murdered?

  “Hey.” Andrew squeezed Kat’s shoulder. “I forgot to ask how that newspaper interview went. Did you put in a good word for 4F?”

  “Not exactly,” Kat said.

  “Really? I thought that was the whole reason you were meeting with this reporter woman. What was her name again?”

  “Tiffany Reed.”

  Matty adjusted positions. Kat rubbed the tortoiseshell’s tummy, recalling how excited Tiffany had been after the paramedics had driven off. Was it possible she had been the one to kill Aaron? Could Tiffany have been so desperate to prove she would make a good crime reporter that she was willing to create her own story? It seemed ridiculous, and yet Kat couldn’t forget how Tiffany’s eyes had gleamed when she’d started talking about her passion.

  She took a deep breath. She was letting her mind run amok. Aaron’s death had been an accident, pure and simple.

  “My interview with Tiffany was cut short,” Kat told Andrew. “A man died while we were at Jessie’s.”

  “I heard about it at the station, but I didn’t realize you were there when it happened. Tough break, huh?”

  Tom ambled out of the kitchen. The brown-and-black feline sat down on the carpet and licked his chops, his green eyes on the humans.

  “Food allergies aren’t to be messed with,” Andrew said. “Shame the guy didn’t get help in time.”