“That’s right.” Glenda nodded. “And real china plates and steel forks. Nothin’ plastic.”
“Okay.” Skye grabbed a pen and paper. “Anything else?”
“We need a rental van so’s we can drive around and see everythin’.” Her eyes gleamed with avarice. “And some spending money. A hundred dollars a day. I’m goin’ buy me a fancy purse out there, just like Lisa’s pink leopard one.”
“Got it.” Skye agreed quickly, before they changed their minds and upped their demands. It was a good thing that Glenda had no idea how much a designer handbag really cost. “I just need to clear it with the superintendent. Once he gives me the okay, I’m sure he’ll want you to sign something.”
Earl held out his hand to Skye. “You’ve got a deal.” After she shook it, he said, “We’s got to skeedadle.” Over his shoulder, he added, “Call me when you have our tickets and stuff.”
“Go ahead, baby. I’ll catch up.” Glenda waited until her husband left and said, “I thought I’d never get rid of him. Men’s a lot like a curling iron.” At Skye’s puzzled expression, she explained, “They’s always hot and they’s always in your hair.”
“So true.” Skye glanced at Wally and giggled at his irate expression, then waited for the other shoe to drop.
“I want one other thing.” Glenda narrowed her eyes. “And don’t you go tellin’ Earl.”
“Okay.” Skye hoped she could produce whatever the Doozier matriarch had in mind.
“I want to meet Calizone,” Glenda demanded.
“You mean eat a calzone?”
“No! Is you an idiot?” Glenda stomped her foot, then dug into her enormous purse. She produced a torn-out magazine page that she thrust into Skye’s hands. “Calizone is the greatest wrestler of all time and he’s goin’ be in LA during spring break. I want a ticket to his match and a backstage pass.”
“Got it.” Skye hustled Glenda out the door, then said to Wally, “How much do you think that all will cost?”
“Three thousand for the airfare. Fifteen hundred for the two motel rooms. Maybe that for the food. Five hundred for the van. And whatever wrestling tickets go for.” Wally shrugged. “That makes what, seven thousand including their daily stipend. Pretty cheap, considering their daughter was held at gunpoint by a school employee.”
Before Skye could respond, her office door thumped open and Shamus Wraige stomped inside. His gaze fell on Wally and he marched up to him.
He poked Wally in the chest and said, “This has got to stop.”
“What has to stop?” Wally grabbed the superintendent’s finger, and Skye winced as he held on to it, not quite bending it back, but the threat was implied. “You assaulting a police officer?”
“No, my possessions being stolen.” Dr. Wraige’s naturally ruddy complexion was lobster red. “My car is missing. My brand-new Black Label Lincoln Navigator with blue leather whitewashed wood interior is gone.”
Chapter 5
Trouble in Paradise
Later that afternoon, Skye breathed a sigh of relief as she drove home after school. From start to finish, it had been a chaotic day. Even though the lockdown had been handled relatively quickly, both the staff and the students remained rattled until the dismissal bell rang that afternoon.
Skye and Piper had been called into numerous classrooms to reassure anxious students that there wasn’t now and had never been a real threat. She suspected that her presence had been requested as much for the teacher as for the kids.
Pulling her Mercedes into the garage, Skye sat for a moment and deliberately shoved all thoughts of her workday aside. All she wanted to do for the rest of the evening was play with CJ and Eva, eat dinner with her husband, then cuddle with him on the couch.
The first hint that her night wasn’t going to go as she’d hoped was the sound of babies screaming a duet when she walked into the laundry.
Skye hastily dumped her tote bag and purse on the bench, hung up her coat, and toed off her boots. The crying only got louder as she entered the kitchen.
Dorothy rocked Eva in one arm while she shook a rattle at CJ, who was sitting in his swing. Neither twin took any notice of her efforts and both their little faces were redder than a valentine heart.
Raising her voice above ruckus, Skye called out, “I’m home.”
Dorothy took one look at her standing in the doorway and her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into these two today. They’ve hardly napped and they’ve been fussy all afternoon.”
“I take it they’re dry and have been fed?” Skye asked, entering the room and picking up CJ.
She wasn’t at all surprised when Dorothy nodded. The housekeeper had raised four of her own children, so Skye was sure the woman hadn’t missed the obvious.
“At first, I thought it was teething, but none of the things that have been helping them seemed to work.” Dorothy added, “And they don’t have a fever or any sign of a cold or flu.”
“Were their stools normal?” Skye couldn’t believe she was discussing poop.
“Uh-huh,” Dorothy continued, “I called their pediatrician and she said it didn’t sound like an ear infection, so it was probably a growth spurt because babies are usually extra fussy when that happens.”
“I remember reading about that.” Skye bounced CJ who had quieted but was still whimpering. “When their bones, muscles, and tendons grow, it can be very painful. And they have seemed hungrier than usual, which would make sense because they’d need extra calories to get through the growth spurt.”
“Yeah, the doc mentioned that it can mess up their sleep patterns.” Dorothy paced the floor patting Eva’s back.
Skye joined Dorothy in circling the kitchen. “Did the doctor have any suggestions?”
“Just to keep them on their regular schedule.”
“So we should put them in their cribs for a nap now or their bedtime will be thrown off,” Skye murmured.
“Right.” Dorothy headed toward the nursery. “I was just waiting for you to get home since I know you like to see them before they go to sleep.”
The two women deposited the still-sniffling twins in their cribs and grabbed the portable baby monitor. Skye followed Dorothy out of the room.
After she closed the door, Skye leaned against the wall in the hallway. It was tough hearing her babies in such distress.
Once Dorothy had gone upstairs, Skye hurried into the master bedroom to change. As she finished and walked back into the kitchen to start dinner, she was thankful that she could no longer detect any sounds from the nursery.
Sadly, a few seconds later she heard Eva whimper. Skye hesitated. Should she get Eva out of there so she didn’t wake up her brother? Or should she wait to see if her daughter would go back to sleep?
When both babies started screaming again, Skye put her hands over her ears and prayed for strength. She’d try to be strong and let them cry themselves to sleep as the doctor had suggested, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d last.
A half hour later, the babies had just fallen asleep when Wally arrived home. Skye cringed as he loudly shut the door between the garage and laundry room, then clomped down the hall.
As he entered the kitchen, Skye immediately whispered, “Be quiet.”
“Why?” he whispered back.
Skye explained about the twins and returned to making supper. Wally kissed her cheek and went to change out of his uniform.
He reappeared a few minutes later wearing lounge pants and a sweatshirt. After a quick peek in the nursery, he set the table.
Finished, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and, keeping his voice low, asked, “Do you want Diet Coke or wine?”
“This day definitely calls for wine.” Skye also spoke softly. “How was the rest of your shift?”
“Fine.” Wally poured a glass of merlot and handed it to Sky
e. “But we didn’t get to talk much after the lockdown, and there is something that I needed to tell you.”
Skye’s stomach clenched. “Oh?” What now?
“Maybe you should sit down.” Wally’s expression was apprehensive.
“Okay.” Skye slid into a chair and took a gulp of wine, sure she was going to need it.
“Your Uncle Charlie has been arrested.” He held up his hand before Skye could respond. “Loretta got him out on bail so he’s not in jail, but he could be in big trouble.”
As he explained the situation, Skye couldn’t hold back her tears.
When he finished, she got herself under control, wiped her face with a tissue, cleared her throat, and said, “I’d better call Mom.”
Chapter 6
Cupid Shot Us Both with One Arrow
Wally stared at the mess in front of him. Monday had sucked eggs and Tuesday was starting off even worse. He pulled Charlie’s file toward him, groaning at the memory of Skye’s reaction to the news her godfather had been caught up in the state police’s sting. Even though Loretta had gotten him released, the threat of a conviction still dangled over his head.
Charlie claimed that he had no knowledge of the drug or weapons transactions that had gone on in the cottages of his motor court. Although Wally tended to believe him, that didn’t mean the state police investigator felt the same way.
Wally was fairly certain that Skye’s godfather had chosen to turn a blind eye to what was happening in his establishment. There was no other explanation. Charlie wasn’t a stupid man, and the same people renting a couple of cabins the identical day every week had to have seemed fishy to him. Especially during the off-season, when there were no tourist or hunters or anglers around.
Certainly, the other owners of small motels up and down the I-55 corridor from Chicago to St. Louis had twigged to what was taking place. They’d been smart and reported the suspicious activity to the state police, making Charlie look even guiltier by his silence.
Normally, Wally would have kept his distance from an investigation involving another law enforcement agency, but Skye’s tearful face, not to mention her mother’s hysteria, had him looking through the paperwork for the investigator’s number. He was fairly confident a call to the detective in charge of the case wouldn’t be considered too much of an intrusion. After all, as the chief of police in the town where the sting had transpired, he was entitled to an update.
Wally was reaching for the phone when the intercom buzzed. Annoyed at the interruption, he punched the blinking red button for the mayor’s private line.
“Yes?” Wally’s tone conveyed his impatience.
“My office. Now.” Hizzoner hung up before Wally could respond.
“Son of a nutcracker!” Wally cursed, wishing for the zillionth time he hadn’t promised Skye that he’d stop swearing when the twins were born. “What in the devil does Dante want now?”
Cripes!
Just what he needed. Another of the mayor’s inane demands.
Although Dante was May’s brother, the relationship between him and the rest of the Leofanti family had never been overly cordial. It had deteriorated even further when Skye and Wally had exposed the mayor’s scheme to save money by outsourcing the police department.
Hizzoner had planned to use those funds for the construction of a super incinerator, which he would use to burn neighboring communities’ garbage. He’d then charge those towns a hefty fee and rake in the cash. He didn’t care that the huge trucks and rancid smells would change Scumble River from a pleasant rural village to an unlivable nightmare.
This all had happened quite a while ago, but Dante held on to grudges as if they were his firstborn child, and he continued to delight in wasting the police department’s time and resources. The mayor was willing to do almost anything to make Wally look bad, and this abrupt summons was probably something to further the man’s game of revenge.
Holding on to his temper by a thread, Wally stood up and grabbed a legal pad. He straightened his shoulders and marched into the hallway.
The police station, city hall, and library were all housed in the same redbrick building they had occupied since it was built in the fifties. The city hall and PD shared the ground floor. The town’s small library took up the back half of the second story while the chief’s and mayor’s office shared the remainder of the space.
A few years ago, Dante had ordered an opening cut in the wall between the city hall and the police department. While Wally wasn’t fond of how easily Hizzoner could now stroll over anytime the urge hit him, he had to admit it was a hell of a lot simpler to walk through the archway rather than go downstairs, out the PD’s door, enter the city hall, and climb the steps to the mayor’s office. Especially on a day like this when the freezing wind was gusting hard enough to blow the mane off a lion.
A few seconds later, when Wally strolled into Dante’s lair, he found Hizzoner appeasing someone on the phone.
“I promise you: your problem is my number one priority.” Dante’s voice vibrated with fake sincerity, and sweat beaded along his follicle-challenged hairline. “Yes, yes. He’ll be there as soon as I fill him in on the situation. Just sit tight.”
Wally took a seat and settled back to enjoy the show. One of Scumble River’s more prominent citizens must be raking the mayor over the coals. And while Hizzoner was more proficient at the sidestep shuffle then Fred Astaire, the sight of him dancing on the flames was always amusing.
“Shit,” Dante said under his breath, then cleared his throat and soothed, “I’m very sorry that you’re continuing to have these burglaries.” The mayor glared at Wally. “We will definitely get your car back.”
Well, crapola!
Although Wally maintained his bland expression, inwardly he cringed. That had to be Wraige complaining to the mayor about all the thefts.
“Yes. Right. Just let me hang up and get him going,” Dante mollified. “I promise, he’ll be there soon.” Banging the handset into the holder, the mayor scowled at Wally. “That was Shamus Wraige.”
“Did he have another break-in?” Wally asked, wondering why he’d called the mayor instead of 911. “What did they take this time?”
“Nothing.” Dante’s thin lips quirked. “But Dr. Wraige is sure someone just tried to get in again. He heard the back door rattle, and when he went to investigate, no one was there.”
“And he called you instead of the police.” Wally shook his head.
“Why would he call the cops?” Dante sneered. “You haven’t caught the scumbag breaking into his house, and it’s been going on for several weeks.”
“We’ve done all we can.” Wally crossed his legs. “We dusted for fingerprints—there weren’t any that didn’t belong to the family—the pawnshops within a hundred-mile radius have been notified to be on the lookout for the missing items, and the security company claims that someone put a piece of tape over the lens of their cameras and the recordings were compromised.”
“How about the car?” Dante thrust out his chin. “What are you doing about that?”
“We’ve alerted the other law enforcement agencies.” Wally shrugged. “There’s not much hope. An expensive vehicle like that Navigator is either already sailing on a ship overseas or down to individual parts at a chop shop.”
“I can’t tell the superintendent of schools that BS.” Dante shoved his chair back so hard it hit the wall behind him. “You need to do something.”
“If you approve the budget for overtime reimbursement, I can have Martinez and Anthony do a grid search of the county.” Wally knew that wouldn’t fly, but it really was the only thing left to do.
Dante leaped out of his seat—quite an achievement for someone shaped like an egg—and screamed, “No more money! It already cost a fortune to specially equip a squad car so that dog of yours would be comfortable.” Before Wally could protest that it
was the mayor’s idea to get a K-9 officer, Hizzoner extended a finger and shrieked, “Admit it! You’re just dragging your feet on this to make me look bad.”
“Not true.” Wally shook his head. “But if you insist, I certainly can.”
“Screw you!” Dante advanced on Wally flailing his arms like Humpty Dumpty about to fall off the wall. “You get over to Shamus Wraige’s right now,” the mayor screamed. “And do something to make him think your department isn’t as worthless as it is!”
Wally stood, towering over Dante. “My department has a ninety-eight percent clearance rate.” Wally barely stopped himself from punching Hizzoner. “Which you would know if you read the reports that you insist that I send you every month.”
“You don’t fool me!” Dante squawked. “You pad those statistics.”
“Unlike you, I do not.” Wally kept his voice calm, but just barely.
“Liar.”
“If the nose fits.” Wally stared at the mayor’s long, pointy proboscis.
“What are you saying?” Hizzoner glared, but when Wally didn’t answer, he deflated and muttered, “In any case, give me a call when you get Shamus to cool his jets. All we need is him badmouthing us to his cronies.”
“Yes, sir.” Wally gave a mocking salute and headed to the garage.
Once inside, he slid behind the wheel of the Hummer, secured his seat belt, and cranked the engine. He reversed out onto the parking lot and made a left on Basin Street.
Having been to the Wraige residence twice already in the past month, Wally was familiar with the route and he automatically steered the SUV toward the town’s most exclusive neighborhood. Which ironically was a few miles past the McDonald’s and near the water resource recovery facility.
As he drove south of town, Wally thought about the ruckus the residents of that subdivision had caused when they realized that their million-dollar-plus houses were not only within smelling distance of the sewage treatment plant, they also backed up to an old graveyard.
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