Body Over Troubled Waters

by Denise Swanson

  Dr. Wraige had his hand on the office’s doorknob, but he seemed to think of something and whirled around, then marched back to where Wally was still sitting. “Any progress on the burglaries from my house?”

  “What burglaries?” Skye asked before she could stop herself.

  Wally hadn’t mentioned anything about the superintendent being robbed. Of course, between their two full-time jobs and the twins, even with a live-in housekeeper, there wasn’t much time for idle chitchat at night before they dropped into bed, exhausted.

  Both men ignored her question and Wally directed his answer to the superintendent. “No. Your security company is taking its sweet time in sending us the recordings of your property.”

  “I’ll call them again.” Dr. Wraige frowned. “You’d think that after the thief was able to disconnect the alarm during the first break-in, they’d be bending over backward to help catch the guy.”

  “Yep,” Wally agreed, then added, “But I suspect that something happened to interfere with the video this time too, and the company doesn’t want to admit it. I’ll be in touch with you if I actually I get the footage. I hope that I’m wrong about it being unavailable because it would give us the best chance of finding out who’s stealing from you.”

  Dr. Wraige gave them all a curt nod, stalked back to the door, flung it open, and disappeared down the hallway. Skye got up to close the door, but Trixie nearly knocked her over as she surged over the threshold.

  “I was looking for Bambi Doozier and someone told me she tried to blow up the school, which can’t be true. What in the devil kind of drugs are in the air around here today?” Trixie demanded.

  A second later, she seemed to notice Opal and Wally. Trixie slapped her palm over her mouth and gave Skye a puzzled look.

  After Skye explained what had really happened, Wally asked, “Why were you looking for Bambi? And who told you she tried to blow up the school?”

  “She’s one of my cupids.” Trixie wandered over to Skye’s desk and dug through the candy jar full of Jolly Ranchers sitting on it.

  “Your cupids?” Wally echoed. “Why does the library need cupids?”

  “Not the library, silly.” Trixie unwrapped a watermelon candy and popped it into her mouth. “My service club. This week, we’re raising money for the Stanley County Animal Shelter by delivering Valentine’s Day greetings for five dollars each during the three lunch periods.” She tilted her head. “I guess I should have specified not to wear the costume to school and just change into it before starting their cupid shift. That’s what the other kids did.”

  “Well, heck. I forgot about that.” Skye put her hands on her hips. “Now I feel even worse about this whole crud muffin of a mess.”

  “It tweren’t your fault, Miz Skye.” Earl Doozier stuck his head around the doorway, then slithered the rest of himself into the office and pointed a dirty finger at Opal. “She’s the one who done it.”

  Chapter 4

  Cupid’s Chokehold

  At least Earl was alone. Skye glanced heavenward and counted her blessings. He was a lot easier to manage without his entourage. His wife would have definitely added to whatever pandemonium was about to occur. Not to mention the violent propensity of his grandmother or maybe great-grandmother—Skye had never quite figured out the Dooziers’ twisted genealogy, which was more like a topiary bush than a family tree.

  Everyone in the now even more crowded office was silent, and before Skye could consider whether she really wanted to know or not, she asked, “Earl, how did you find out about Bambi and the lockdown so quickly?”

  Wally and Opal had remained seated, and in fact, scooted their chairs as far away from Earl as possible. Trixie, who wasn’t afraid of anything and always hoping for a good idea for her next book, had snatched a pen and a legal pad from Skye’s desk and was jotting down notes.

  “When the dang alarm thingy went off, Junior climbed outta the window and came got me.” Earl’s toothless grin was proud. “He ain’t dumb enough to stick aroun’ if somethin’ bad’s abouts to go down.”

  Skye wasn’t at all surprised that Earl’s son hadn’t followed the rules, but she was curious how the Doozier patriarch had found out about his daughter’s involvement.

  “That explains how you knew about the alert,” Skye said, “but what about Bambi?”

  Before Earl could explain how he knew his daughter was a part of the brouhaha, a woman with a bleach job that had been done using a bottle of peroxide rather than a box of Clairol, a Kim Kardashian bust, and the personality of a Komodo dragon slammed open the door and barreled over the threshold. Skye and Trixie jumped out of her path, both taking refuge behind Skye’s desk.

  Earl’s wife, Glenda, had arrived. She looked as if she’d just tumbled out of bed after a long, hard night of booze and bad decisions, which didn’t augur well for any of their futures. Especially her poor husband’s.

  Ignoring everyone else, Glenda glowered at Earl and screeched, “What in the hell is goin’ on? Junior woke me up lookin’ for the keys to the tank and MeMa is loadin’ all the guns, even the bazooka.”

  Earl, evidently having a death wish, snapped, “Confound it. I’s told that boy we didn’t need no wimmen involved. I said I’d handle it.”

  “Like yous handled the guy at the bar last night?” Glenda put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Lucky for you, I had the SIG Sauer P238 in my purse or he woulda beat the twinkies out of you.”

  “But, honey pie,” Earl whined, “I was a warmin’ up. I coulda taken him if ya gave me the chance to get my muscles loosened—”

  “Don’t make me break a nail slappin’ some sense in you,” Glenda warned.

  Skye gazed at the bloodred talons Glenda was using to poke at her husband and cringed. Those claws could do some real damage. But at least her mood wasn’t too bad or she’d have been holding her gun. A good indication that the Doozier queen was really angry was when she had a weapon in her hand.

  “Ain’t that sweet how concerned she is about me.” Earl beamed. Skye wasn’t shocked that he didn’t seem to understand that his wife had insulted him or that there was a lovesick expression on his usual slack-jawed face as he said, “I won’t let you or Bambi down. I’s got a plan that could set us up for life.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. Earl always had a get-rich-quick scheme.

  “Your last plan for our future nearly landed you in the hoosegow for murder.” Glenda tapped the toe of a drunk-tank-pink high heel on the worn carpet. “I’m countin’ to three and you better tell me exactly what’s happen’.” She shot a malevolent look at Skye. “Or is this all just a made-up reason to come and moon around her.”

  “But, sweet cheeks, you’s knows that I love you more than Paula Deen loves butter.” Earl clasped his hands to his heart. “Or likes you’re the last package of toilet paper in the apocalypse.”

  “Well…” Glenda hesitated. “I jus’ wished that every time you’s goes missin’, you didn’t turn up wherever she’s at.” Glenda jerked her thumb at Skye. “What is she? Some sorta trouble magnet?”

  “Hmm.” Earl scratched his receding chin. “You’s has a point there. Where Miz Skye goes, misfortune does seem to follow.” He thought a few more seconds then nodded. “That’s why she needs me to help her out, but you, my sugar dumplin’, is the cheese in my nachos.”

  “You do love that jar of melty orange stuff.” Glenda batted her false eyelashes at her husband. “And I love you like a candle.” She giggled and tapped his nose with the tip of her fingernail. “Because iffen you don’t pay enough attention to me, I’ll burn down your house.”

  While the lovebirds were cooing at each other, Skye murmured to Trixie, “Why don’t you go get Bambi while I try to smooth things over?”

  Bambi was the last of Earl and Glenda’s brood—at least as far as Skye knew. She was a quiet girl, and one of the few Red Ragger offspring
who hadn’t been referred for any special education assistance, which meant she had more of a relationship with Trixie than Skye.

  Once the school librarian had eased her way around the couple blocking the door and left, Skye glanced at Wally and Opal. Opal had slid so far down she was almost under the table, and Wally waved at Skye, indicating that she should continue to handle the situation.

  Skye gave him a little nod, turned to the Dooziers, and said, “Earl, when Glenda arrived you were about to tell me how you found out that our lockdown involved Bambi. What’s the scoop?”

  “It’s nothin’ complicated.” Earl dug his finger into his ear and mined for wax. “When that police lady was busy tinkling, Bambi used the office phone and called me. When my baby girl told me she thought she was in trouble, I’s come a runnin’.”

  Tugging at the crotch of her skintight jeans, her low-cut tank top exposing a large expanse of chalk-white cleavage, Glenda looked daggers at Skye and said, “What have y’all done to my little angel?”

  Skye was relieved that she was out of reach of Glenda’s fingernails and said, “There was a slight error in judgment on the part of our school secretary.” When Opal whimpered, Skye quickly continued, “But Bambi is fine. She was never in any physical danger.” Behind her back Skye crossed her fingers and hoped she wasn’t lying. “The superintendent has authorized me to compensate your family for any embarrassment the school might have caused you or Bambi.”

  Earl looked from his wife to Skye and back. “We’s had a lot of pain and sufferin’, so we’s goin’ need a lot of compensation to get over it.”

  Glenda nodded her agreement, then squawked, “Making up for smearing my darlin’ kitten’s reputation won’t come cheap. I’m talkin’ a whole aisle at Walmart expensive.”

  Skye hadn’t come up with anything she thought Glenda would go for, so she said, “Tell me what you want.” She was hoping that the Red Ragger queen wouldn’t ask for a new house or something equally outrageous.

  “We’s need to confer.” Earl shot Glenda a crafty look. “Right, honeypot?”

  “Right.” Glenda gathered her faux fur jacket around herself, grabbed Earl’s scrawny arm, and pulled him into the hallway, slamming the door after her.

  As soon as the couple left, Wally stood, walked to the door, edged it open, and peered into the hallway. After a quick look, he motioned to Opal, and said, “This is your chance. The Dooziers are down by the fountain. Go in the other direction and make your way back to the office. You can help Anthony find Homer.”

  Opal nodded, jumped to her feet, and shot over the threshold. As soon as she was in the hall, she started running and didn’t look back.

  “You know she won’t narc on Homer,” Skye commented. “If he doesn’t want to be found, she’ll never tell us where he’s hiding out.”

  “Even after he set her up to take a fall by telling her to use his gun to defend the school?” Wally’s eyebrows rose into his hairline.

  Skye shook her head. “It would take more than that to get her to snitch on him.”

  “Homer will have to face the music eventually.” Wally perched on the edge of Skye’s desk. “He has to show up sometime.”

  “He’s probably somewhere nearby.” Skye shrugged. “He’s just making sure the superintendent is really gone before he announces his presence.”

  “Speaking of which.” Wally crossed his arms. “How high did Wraige authorize you to go?”

  “He never exactly said, but I’m guessing he’d pay a good sum to avoid having the Dooziers hire Loretta to sue him.” Skye smiled. “Dr. Wraige is afraid of our sister-in-law. As well he should be.”

  Skye frowned and bit her lip. Something was bothering her. Suddenly it occurred to her what had been nagging at the back of her mind.

  She snapped her fingers and asked, “Where’s Homer’s gun?”

  “I confiscated it, bagged and tagged it, and gave it to Quirk to put into the evidence locker at the station.” Wally gave her an odd look. “Did you think we’d just leave it sitting around?”

  “No. Sorry. Evidently my hormones are still causing some blips in my thinking.” Skye rubbed her eyes. “Dr. J says pregnancy brain can last up two years, so only eighteen more months to go.”

  Wally stood, walked around the desk, and hugged Skye. “You’re doing fine. This morning’s false alarm rattled all of us.”

  “Will Homer get the gun back?” Skye snuggled into Wally’s chest, determined to enjoy the warmth and the closeness for a few seconds before she had to resume her professional duties.

  “It depends.” Wally stroked Skye’s back as he explained. “Many states have laws prohibiting concealed carry in schools, but Illinois allows it. If Homer doesn’t have a license, the gun is classified as contraband and we won’t return it.”

  “Homer’s an idiot, but he’s got the self-preservation instincts of a skunk with fully loaded stink glands, so he probably does have a license,” Skye muttered gloomily.

  “Look on the bright side, we are allowed to keep evidence until the conclusion of the case.” Wally winked at her. “Depending on our investigation and the decision on how to proceed, we may not wrap this thing up for weeks or months, or even years.”

  “But I thought you weren’t going to press charges against Opal.”

  “I’m not. However, that doesn’t mean we might not charge someone else.”

  “Ah.” Skye nodded. “Especially if that someone presses you to return his gun.”

  “Exactly.”

  Skye chuckled, then realized it had been quite a while since Earl and Glenda had retired to the hallway to consult with each other.

  With one last cuddle, she freed herself from her husband’s embrace and walked over to the office door. Easing it open, she peeked outside.

  It appeared that Earl was scouting the perimeter. Skye watched the skinny little man dressed in camo sweatpants and a torn T-shirt slide from locker to locker as he glided down the corridor. He almost looked like a ten-year-old boy playing cops and robbers, until you noticed the dense tattoos up and down his forearms and the basketball-shaped gut hanging over his trousers.

  “What’s he doing?” Wally joined Skye in watching Earl sneaking towards them.

  Skye shrugged. “My best guess is that he’s making sure that no enemies have snuck up on him while he was distracted by talking to Glenda.” She closed the door and took a seat behind her desk.

  “Sounds reasonable.” Wally nodded. “Any idea why he’s not wearing a coat? February in Illinois isn’t exactly short sleeve weather.”

  “Earl told me he runs hot like his hero General Patton.” Skye had long ago stopped trying to make sense of anything the Doozier patriarch did or didn’t do.

  “I never heard that about Patton.” Wally frowned.

  “Me neither.” Skye shrugged. “Earl might have made up that detail or gotten it from a cartoon. Who knows with him?”

  “Hmm,” Wally grunted, then said, “I really need to find Homer. Do you want me to stick around or do you have this under control?”

  “I’ve got it.” Skye wasn’t sure that she truly did, but there wasn’t anything Wally could do to help. “When Trixie comes back with Bambi, I’ll check that she’s okay and send her to class with a note explaining that as per Dr. Wraige’s instructions, she shouldn’t be penalized for anything she missed. Then I’ll negotiate with the Dooziers regarding the amount of the bribe they’ll accept to forget all this ever happened. After that, we should be good.”

  Wally had his hand on the knob when the office door slammed open, and he had to jump out of the way as Earl and Glenda marched inside.

  “You tell her, honeydew.” Earl took off his dirty baseball cap, revealing muddy-brown hair that formed a ring around a bald spot the size of a cantaloupe. “You can explain what we’s want better’n me.”

  Uncharacteristically,
Glenda shuffled her stiletto-clad feet, sucked in a lungful of air, and finally blurted out, “We want to go to Beverly Hills for spring break. All of us, including Elvis and his wife, and Elvira, and Hap, and Cletus, and MeMa.”

  “So, ten people?” Skye asked, wondering what something like that would cost.

  “Eleven,” Earl piped up. “Sweet lips done forgot little Skeeter.”

  “Who’s Skeeter?” Skye lasered the little man with a skeptical look. “I don’t remember any of your kin named Skeeter.”

  “Elvis’s boy.” Earl shoved out his sunken chest. “I’s a Pawpaw. He and Mavis had ’em round the same time as you’s had your litter.”

  Skye glanced sideways at Wally. How had they missed that blessed event?

  As if reading her mind, Earl explained, “Elvis got a good job managin’ a Lock and Hole storage unit, and he done moved to the city.”

  “Chicago?”

  “Laurel,” Earl clarified. “He and the missus are livin’ high on the hog. They’s got one of them there storage units fixed up real nice.”

  “They’re living in a storage unit? With a baby?” Skye asked Earl. “How?”

  She’d had a hard enough time managing the twins in a luxury RV while their new house was being built. And her accommodations had had bathrooms, not to mention a washer, dryer, and complete kitchen.

  “It has air conditioning and heat and electricity.” Earl widened his bloodshot eyes and exclaimed, “The owner, Mr. Drysdale, even rented them a Porta Potty and put it right out back.”

  “Okay, then.” Skye had heard enough. “Eleven people for a week’s vacation in Beverly Hills. May I ask why you chose that destination?”

  Glenda’s fish belly–white cheeks pinked up and she mumbled, “Cuz of the Housewives.”

  Skye was momentarily confused, then realized Glenda meant the reality TV program. “I see. Then you’ll need airfare, accommodation, and food.”

  “We’s want two rooms at a nice place. Something luxurious like that hotel where’s they leave the light on for you,” Earl demanded. “And we’s want to eat good too. Restaurants where you sit down and they bring it to you.”