She rose as if in a trance. The pulse in her neck felt as if it were beating at ten times the normal rate. “Wha—?”
He gently swung her around and cuffed her before she could complete the word. Then he spoke the dreaded words, “Skye Denison, you’re under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent.”
Part of her listened to Wally recite the rights that were familiar to anyone who watched TV cop shows, while the other part noticed that Trixie had rounded up the girls and was leading them more than a gossip’s length away.
“Wally, are you crazy? How can you do this to me? What’s going on?” Skye protested.
The chief ignored her questions, marching her out the side door and into the back of his squad car. She wondered how many people were watching and felt her chest tightening. This was humiliating. He buckled her into the seat belt and got into the front seat. She leaned as far forward as she could and tried again to ask what was going on.
He cut her off. “We’ll talk at the station.”
What had she done? The short ride was excruciating. What was happening? Her emotions ranged from outrage to fear, and back again.
Wally parked the squad car in the police garage and after unbuckling the seat belt, eased her from the vehicle. He remained silent. Sheer black fright swept her as he marched her through the station.
He grunted to the dispatcher as they passed by. “Call the county jail for a matron.”
He deposited her in the coffee/interrogation room and locked the door behind him. Icy fear twisted around her heart. She had never seen Wally this way. And to drag her out of school in handcuffs—this was bad, this was very bad. Skye tried to retrieve the anger she had initially felt over her treatment, but she was too scared.
Then it dawned on her. The dispatcher was some woman she didn’t know. Where was her mother? She was supposed to be working. Why had they gotten rid of May? That frightened her most of all.
Finally, she forced herself to focus. What did they think she’d done? Theft. What had been stolen? Should she call a lawyer?
After what felt to Skye like the longest wait in her life, Wally walked back into the room. He motioned for her to stand, and directing her with a hand on her upper arm, led her up the stairs and into his office. The decor had not improved since her last visit. It was still drab with faded blue linoleum, a metal desk, and vinyl-covered chairs. The smell of stale tobacco was finally fading, but even after several years of a smokeless occupant, traces lingered. A silent matron sat in a corner with a notepad.
Wally and Skye both settled into chairs. By this point, Skye was beginning to feel numb.
The chief flipped open a file and said, “A theft was reported this afternoon.”
“And you’re accusing me?”
“That’s right. You’re my primary suspect.” Wally spoke like a machine, and he looked as if he had a migraine.
“This is ridiculous,” sputtered Skye.
“It’s a serious crime.”
“Oh, my God.” Skye was beginning to feel nauseous. “I’d better call my attorney.”
The chief nodded. “That might be a good idea. But if you do, we have to sit here until she arrives. In fact, you could end up in jail, waiting to hear about bonds and things like that once you get a lawyer involved.”
Could he really do that? Skye felt a shiver of panic run up her back. “But I haven’t done anything!” She fought to calm down. “Why do you suspect me?”
“Because the stolen object is something others would have limited interest in.”
She searched anxiously for the meaning behind his words. “What was stolen? What would only I be interested in?”
“Your innocent act is really good,” Wally said disdainfully. “You know what was taken.”
“No, no I don’t,” Skye replied in a small, frightened voice. “What was it?”
“A copy of Lorelei Ingels’s tox report was stolen from the coroner’s mail today.” The chief’s lip curled. “Simon Reid returned to the funeral home after Lorelei Ingels’s services at approximately twelve-thirty. He retrieved his mail from the box at that time and glanced through the pile, noting it contained an envelope from the forensics lab. He put the mail on his desk and went about his business. At approximately two o’clock he went to get the envelope. It was gone. After questioning his assistant and calling the lab, he phoned me.”
Skye wondered if Simon had mentioned her midnight adventure at his funeral home and decided she’d better act as if he hadn’t. “That’s it? You’re accusing me of this crime just because I had motive? Others have motive, too, you know. Lorelei’s killer for instance.”
Wally’s sighed. “We do have other evidence.”
Skye felt a flicker of apprehension. “What?”
“A witness driving by saw a female of your general build, with brown wavy hair, coming out of the funeral home at close to one o’clock this afternoon.”
“What do you mean, my ‘general build’?”
Wally’s eyes dropped. “Not thin.”
“Fat.”
“That wasn’t what the woman said.” Wally didn’t look up.
This seemed to embarrass him, but she wasn’t about to let the matter pass. “What exactly did she say?”
“She said she saw a big girl coming out of the funeral home.”
“She used the word ‘girl’?”
He consulted his notes. “Yeah, but the lady was about ninety. Anyone under sixty would be a girl to her.”
“I see. And she said brown hair?” Skye asked.
The chief nodded.
“Well, I can see you have never really looked at me. I have chestnut-colored hair.”
“Look, try to wiggle out of this any way you can, but the description fits you.” Wally crossed his arms.
Skye straightened her spine and assumed a dignified pose. “Perhaps, but you said the report was stolen between twelve-thirty and two o’clock. Probably closest to one o’clock.”
“Yes.”
“I have an alibi for those times.” Skye took her first deep breath since he’d accused her of the crime. “I was at the Thistle Creek Country Club for Lorelei’s funeral lunch. Several parents spoke to me, as did Charlie.”
Diverse emotions battled for prominence on the chief’s face—relief among them. “Give me those names.”
After she listed everyone she could remember speaking to, Wally said to the matron, “Escort her to the coffee room. Do not let her talk to anyone, including yourself.”
Skye’s relief was so great she felt a silly hysteria creeping over her. If her hands hadn’t still been cuffed, she would’ve saluted Wally. “Yes, sir.”
In the other room she sat staring at the coffeemaker and the soda-pop machine. Who did steal that report? She prayed it wasn’t Justin. If he did it, she was morally to blame. But if the witness was right, it couldn’t have been the boy. Who else would want the tox report—aside from the murderer, that is?
The dispatcher’s voice penetrated Skye’s thoughts. “The chief says to take the cuffs off of her and bring her back upstairs.”
Wally was slouched back in his chair, looking relaxed, when she entered his domain. He spoke to the matron. “Thanks for your help. You can go now.”
Skye fought to keep her voice normal. “So, do my alibis check out?” She wasn’t sure if he was in a better mood because he had cleared her or because he had found more reason to think she was guilty.
“Yes, lucky for you, you and your car seem to be quite memorable.”
“Can I go?” Skye asked, rubbing her wrists.
“Yes.” Wally leaned forward, appearing a little less confident. “Look, I know you’ve probably been snoo—investigating, so since I was wrong about you stealing the tox report, I’m going to give you one ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is your chance to fill me in on anything you’ve discovered that you think I should know, and it’s your chan
ce to ask me some questions.”
She thought quickly. “In other words, you have diddlysquat on the investigation, and you want to see if I can give you a lead.”
He retained his newfound affability, but there was a distinct hardening of his eyes. “If that’s how you want to interpret my generous gesture, you’re free to leave.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Skye hated having to back down. She knew she was right about his motives, but May had taught her a long time ago not to bite off her nose to spite her face. Besides, Wally had just screwed up royally, and she wasn’t about to let him forget it. She smiled and said, “Here’s what I want: For every piece of information I give you, you answer a question for me. Deal?”
He nodded.
“Also, you call Homer and the superintendent, and tell them I’ve been completely cleared.”
He nodded again.
“Okay. Let’s see, what have I found out? One, Lorelei was far from the saint the teachers seem to think she was. Many students are not sad that she’s gone.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Skye frowned. She had to separate what the teens had told her during counseling, which she couldn’t reveal, from what she had overheard. “Zoë VanHorn benefits greatly from Lorelei’s death.” She couldn’t mention Frannie, as her revelation had been with the expectation of confidentiality. And she couldn’t mention Troy because she wasn’t supposed to know of Lorelei’s pregnancy.
“Interesting.” The chief made a note. “What’s your first question?”
“Were you ever allowed to search Lorelei’s room?”
“No, we’re still trying to get a warrant.”
“Okay, info number two. Mrs. Ingels and Linette both have reputations for being willing to do anything to win a beauty pageant.” Skye crossed her legs.
“That has no bearing on Lorelei’s murder. No question for you.”
Her lips thinned. “Be that way. How about Mrs. VanHorn? She’s bound and determined to have Zoë take over everything that Lorelei had. I’ve heard her threatening the director of the musical and Mrs. Ingels. And you may not realize how much money is involved with the pageants those girls compete in.”
“I’ll accept that as relevant. What’s your second question?”
“Have you searched Lorelei’s school locker?”
The chief sighed. “No, we’re still waiting for a warrant for that, too.”
“Third, I overheard a bunch of Lorelei’s closest girl-friends talking about the teacher she was sleeping with. I didn’t get a name because you arrested me at just that moment.”
“We didn’t have any hint of that.” Wally looked a little sheepish. “Too bad you didn’t hear who it was.”
“Yeah.” Skye decided it wasn’t a good idea to pursue that line of thought. “There are only so many male teachers, which narrows it down.” Skye paused, remembering what the little girl who cut off the other kid’s braid had said. “Or, maybe the teachers weren’t necessarily male, and not necessarily from the school. She had a lot of dance, voice, and drama teachers, too.”
“Very interesting. Question three?”
“How are people’s alibis holding up?”
“Without the results of the tox screen, we haven’t been sure how long whatever she was given takes to work. But according to the medical examiner, she could have been given the doctored drink at any time and consumed it hours later. That means no one has an alibi.”
Skye had one more question, but couldn’t think of anything else to trade. She tried passing speculation as information. “Last, the Ingels are a strange family. The little sister is spooky. She reminds me of the girl in that movie, The Bad Seed.”
“You think the little girl might have killed her sister?”
“No.” What she really wondered was if Mr. Ingels had been molesting Lorelei and then turned to Linette. But it would be irresponsible for her to suggest such a possibility without some evidence. “But maybe her parents think so. Maybe that’s why they’re fighting so hard for you not to search Lorelei’s room. Maybe they’re afraid there’s some proof.” Or maybe Mr. Ingels was hiding his own sins.
“Interesting, but pure conjecture. No question.”
“Okay.” Skye suddenly remembered her discovery during cheerleading practice. “How about this? That piece of tinsel you found in the gym the day Lorelei died—it’s probably part of a pom-pom.”
Wally made a note. “Thanks. Next question?”
“Did you ever find out what the bottle with the pill fragments originally contained?”
“No, we’ve looked in all the stores in Scumble River, Clay City, Brooklyn, and even Laurel. Nothing matches.” The chief stood. “I’m sending someone to Kankakee tomorrow.”
Skye got up, too. “Good luck finding out who stole the report. I assume another is being mailed—as we speak.”
“No. I just made Simon a copy of the one I received. The lab sends the reports to both of us.”
Damn! If she had known that, she could have used one of her questions to get the results of the tox screen. She tried the casual approach. “What were the results?”
The chief smiled, not fooled for a moment. “Sorry, you’ve used up all your questions for today.”
She didn’t bother to suppress her loud groan. Oh well, maybe his victory would improve their relationship.
CHAPTER 17
Keep a Watchful Lie
Considering everything, Skye felt surprisingly pleased as she went down the police-station stairs. True, being arrested had been a terrifying and humiliating experience, but now she and the chief were even. How could he remain ticked off at her after he had wrongly accused her of committing a crime? To add to her sense of well-being, she had been able to share her information with Wally, so he couldn’t accuse her later of hiding evidence, plus she’d gotten answers to some of her questions. Too bad she messed up and didn’t ask about the tox-screen results. But all in all, not a bad few hours’ work. Good thing she tended to see the glass as half-full and not half-empty.
She glanced at her watch. Past seven. Maybe she should have suggested to Wally that they get something to eat. She’d check with the dispatcher to see what time he went off duty when she asked about her mother’s whereabouts.
Almost whistling, she pushed open the dispatch door and smiled at the unfamiliar woman sitting behind the radio panel. “Hi, I’m Skye Denison, May’s daughter. I thought she was on duty tonight. Do you know what happened?”
“No, they don’t tell us part-timers much. Just got a call about three to come in.” The woman indicated the phone. “Want to call your mama?”
“Thanks.” As she dialed, Skye asked, “Do you know when the chief gets off work?”
The dispatcher started to answer, but her radio blared to life and she held up a finger indicating just a minute.
Meanwhile, Skye’s call went through. “Mom, why aren’t you working?”
“Hello to you too,” May said. “I got a call this afternoon saying the schedule had been screwed up, and I wasn’t on until tomorrow. Why?”
Interesting. Obviously Wally had finagled to keep May off-site. He’d learned something since the last time he had dealt with their family, when he had tried to interrogate her brother, and Skye and her mother had foiled his scheme by getting a lawyer there pronto.
Skye told May what had happened. Her mother was not amused, and Skye almost pitied Wally. A verbal bloodbath would almost certainly take place tomorrow afternoon when May came on duty. Before hanging up she invited May to go with her to the pageant on Saturday. May said she’d consider it.
As Skye finished her call, the dispatcher asked, “You were asking about the chief?”
“Right.”
“I think he was supposed to be out of here a half hour ago.” The woman pointed to the window that opened onto the waiting area. “That lady’s been waiting at least that long for him.”
Skye felt a twinge in her chest as she stared at the person the disp
atcher indicated. Seated on the vinyl sofa was Abby Fleming—school nurse, Vince’s ex-girlfriend, and one of the most beautiful women in Scumble River.
It had been a long day. Skye resisted the desire to tell Charlie about her false arrest and have him yell at the chief, but she did phone Trixie. She was the one person who would listen to her woes without trying to fix them.
Toward the end of their conversation, Skye tried to be magnanimous, and said, “Well, maybe Wally has learned something from all this. Now he’ll have to admit how easy it is to do something against your common sense in the heat of an investigation.”
Trixie wasn’t convinced. “Men always think what they do is fine, but heaven forbid us women make mistakes.”
“I think it’s a sign of progress that he’s dating again,” Skye commented, closing her eyes in pain as she forced herself to utter the words.
Trixie snorted. “A hard-on does not count as personal growth.”
Trust Trixie to get to the heart of the matter. Skye laughed so loud she scared Bingo, who hid under the bed for twenty minutes after she hung up.
Sleep came in snatches, punctuated by horrible dreams. Finally, at five, she gave up and got out of bed. Her head felt fuzzy, and it took an effort to walk across the room. She dug through her dresser drawer for her swimsuit and pulled it on.
After packing what she would need to wear for the school day, and feeding the cat, she slid into the Bel Air. The aqua car made her feel as if she should be wearing a formal gown and tiara, and waving to the crowd along a parade route.
Skye tried to swim three or four mornings a week, but the Lorelei crisis had interrupted her routine. When it was cold she swam at the high school before the day started. In the summer she used the Scumble River recreational club, a lake formed from a reclaimed coal mine.
Today she was earlier than usual and felt a chill run up her spine as she entered the empty building. There hadn’t been a single car in the lot—even the janitor hadn’t arrived yet.
A few years ago, when the district received some money from a neighboring nuclear power plant, they added a pool to one side of the gym. Instead of using the funds for new books or more teachers, the school board had been hoodwinked by a fast-talking salesman and a group of parents with their own agendas. It was the one time in anyone’s memory that the board had voted against Charlie. Allen Ingels had supported the pool. Because of this, Skye always had mixed feelings when she used the facility.
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