Murder of an Open Book

by Denise Swanson

  Skye gave Dorothy a thumbs-up, then noticed that Bingo had magically appeared at her feet. He thumped her leg with his paw and purred loudly. Aw, yes. It was cat chowtime. As the housekeeper talked to her daughter, Skye prepared Bingo’s supper. She popped open the tin of Fancy Feast, scooped the contents into his bowl, and set it and fresh water next to the untouched bowl of dry food on a mat that read, KITTY CAT CAFÉ. FEED ME AND I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

  Bingo sniffed delicately, lifted his head, and glared at Skye.

  “Come on, don’t be silly. You’ve been eating the same stuff for over five years now.”

  He looked up at her out of slitted eyes, sat back, and stared.

  “We’ve had this discussion before. Grandma may have prepared home-cooked meals for you, but that isn’t going to happen in this house.” Skye pointed to the back door. “If you’re not happy here, feel free to leave.” Bingo continued to gaze at her, and Skye added, “You’re lucky that I buy you the name-brand cat food.”

  Bingo blinked as if thinking it over, then took a tentative lick.

  “That’s more like it.” Skye patted the cat’s head, turned, and walked to the refrigerator. She grabbed a can of caffeine-free Diet Coke and a container of spinach and artichoke hummus, then took a bag of toasted garlic pita chips from the cupboard and carried her snack to the table.

  On a good day, Wally didn’t get home until after five, usually closer to five thirty. And since he liked to work out and shower before sitting down at the table, they rarely ate dinner before six thirty or seven. She wasn’t fond of eating that late—it felt as if she had just finished supper and it was time for bed—but she was slowly adjusting to her new husband’s schedule.

  One method of coping was to have a little something a bit earlier to tide her over and then eat less with Wally later on in the evening.

  “Tammy’ll be here in ten minutes. Walmart was really crowded, and they only had two cash registers open.” Dorothy tucked away her cell and said, “I’ll put the sausage in the fridge next to the polenta. When you’re ready for supper, the salad is in the green Tupperware bowl and the garlic bread is on top of that container wrapped in foil. Put the bread in the oven for fifteen minutes while you reheat the sausage and polenta.”

  “At three fifty, right?” Skye asked, and when Dorothy nodded, she said, “Thanks. It sounds yummy. But then, all your food is.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Dorothy finished tidying the kitchen and started to wash the pan that the sausage had been in. “How’s everything with you?”

  “Just fine.” Skye dipped a pita chip into the hummus. “I can’t wait for this week to be over. I’m so ready for spring break.”

  “It’ll be nice for you to have some time at home.” Dorothy dried the pan. “You had to go to work the day after you got back from your honeymoon, didn’t you? That had to be exhausting.”

  “A little.” Skye took a sip of her soda. “But since you did all the laundry for us, it wasn’t too bad.” She smiled. “I’m getting spoiled.”

  “Like May didn’t spoil both you and Vince?” Dorothy snickered, then sobered and asked, “Have you been feeling okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” Skye stuffed a chip into her mouth so she couldn’t talk. Shoot! Had Dorothy noticed something? Had she told May?

  “You don’t want to get run down.” Dorothy slid the clean pan into the cupboard shelf and walked over to Skye. “The whole putting on a wedding and then starting a new life can be tough.” She patted Skye’s shoulder. “Now that there’s more than just you to consider, you need to take better care of yourself.” She opened her mouth to continue, but the sound of a honking horn interrupted her. Grabbing her purse from the counter, she said, “Don’t forget to take your vitamins.”

  Oh. My. Gosh! Skye choked on the chip she’d been chewing. She closed her eyes. Was there any evidence of her pregnancy? No. She certainly hadn’t bought any maternity clothes or baby items.

  Unless Dorothy had noticed the unusually rapid consumption of soda crackers, Skye hadn’t left any trace of her morning sickness. She’d even been careful to hide her copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting—it had been a pain to stick it in a shoe box at the back of her closet every time she was through reading, but she’d done it.

  Skye shook her head. She was being paranoid. No one knew about the baby. Not Dorothy. Not May. Not anyone. And no one would know until she and Wally made the announcement. Reaching for another chip, she relaxed against the back of the chair, then stiffened.

  Crap! Had Dorothy opened up the medicine chest and seen the prenatal vitamin bottle or noticed an empty one in the trash can? That would certainly explain her farewell remark. Best-case scenario, she just meant that now that Skye had a husband, she wasn’t on her own anymore, and anything that affected her would affect him, too.

  Yep. That had to be it. Skye took a sip of soda, then stood and fetched the stack of folders from the hall bench. Until Wally got home, she’d work on the report that Trixie’s early-morning visit had prevented her from completing. Feeling virtuous, she spread the papers across the kitchen table, arranged her yellow legal pad at the proper angle, and picked up her favorite pen. Heck! Maybe she could even get a head start on the next day’s cases.

  An hour later, Skye was pondering the meaning of the pattern of subtest scatter on the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children—Fourth Edition, affectionately known as the WISC-IV, when she heard a car pulling up in front of the house. Shoving the protocol into the folder, she organized the files that were strewn across the table into a pile, got to her feet, and dashed into the hallway.

  Wally had just stepped inside, and when he spotted her, he met her halfway down the corridor, wordlessly gathering her to his chest. He gently cupped her chin and claimed her lips. His kiss was hungry, and she returned it with a reckless abandon that surprised her. They’d been apart for only twelve hours, yet it felt as if she hadn’t been in his arms for days.

  At the same time that he roused her passion, it was clear that his own was growing stronger, too. He pulled her tighter, her soft curves molding to the contours of his muscular body. Blood pounded in her brain and her knees trembled. Something about her pregnancy had put her hormones, and apparently Wally’s as well, into overdrive. They’d been going at it like oversexed rabbits, and she wondered if that was natural. She needed to check with someone about that.

  As Skye’s world spun out of control, the radio attached to Wally’s epaulette crackled and the dispatcher’s voice said, “Officer Martinez, there’s a ten-ninety-one at the St. Francis parish hall. Please be advised that the ladies are afraid to go to their cars.”

  Skye jerked out of his arms. Nothing like her mother’s voice coming from her husband’s shoulder to throw a bucket of cold water over Skye’s lust.

  May was the afternoon dispatcher for the Scumble River Police Department, and as such, Wally was her superior. The role of boss and son-in-law was a delicate balance—one Skye was trying not to influence. But it was tough with Skye also working for the PD as a psych consultant. That was the bad part of small-town living: There was no way to keep a clear demarcation between professional and personal worlds.

  With a sheepish grin, Wally unclipped the radio from his shirt and said, “Sorry about that.” He set the receiver on the bench. “I need to remember to turn that thing off once I’m home.”

  He tried to take her back into his arms, but Skye headed for the kitchen, asking over her shoulder, “What’s a ten-ninety-one?” She’d memorized the more common ten-codes, but the meaning of that particular one eluded her.

  “A stray animal.” Wally followed Skye and took a beer from the fridge. “If it’s vicious, I hope Martinez doesn’t try to capture it all by herself. Too bad animal control only works nine to five.”

  Zelda Martinez was the newest police officer and the only woman on the Scumble River force. Zelda had joined
the department eighteen months ago. She’d been hired fresh out of college and was still inexperienced in dealing with everyday issues not covered in the curriculum.

  “Should you check to see if Zelda’s okay? Maybe give her a call?” Skye asked, picking up the pile of folders and carrying them back out to the hallway bench so she wouldn’t forget them in the morning.

  Once again, Wally followed Skye, and after she’d put down the files, he gave her a light kiss on her lips. “I love how you worry about everyone, but Martinez has to learn these things on her own.”

  “You’re right. I know that. I wouldn’t swoop in to rescue one of my students. Well, yes I would, but I know I shouldn’t.” Feeling oddly self-conscious, she eased out of Wally’s reach and said, “It must be the hormones talking, or I’m becoming my mother.” She smiled up at him. “Pray for the former.”

  The puzzled expression on his handsome face was replaced with a grin and he said, “Speaking of hormones, how are you feeling?”

  “As usual, once ten a.m. comes and goes, I’m fine.” Skye shrugged. “I sure hope the morning sickness doesn’t last throughout the whole pregnancy. If it does, I’m never doing this again.”

  “I’m happy with once.” He chuckled. “Or ten times. However many kids you want.” Wally put down his beer bottle and unbuckled his leather utility belt, placing it next to the radio and Skye’s duffel. Next he loosened his collar and took off his tie.

  “That’s good.” Skye had no idea how many children she wanted. She’d see how they did with this one before she decided. An only child might be lonely, but there were always cousins. Vince and Loretta had already provided one of those. “Are you planning to work out before dinner?”

  “If you’re not too hungry.” He put an arm around her, gave her a hug, then started to free her curls from the French braid she’d put her hair in after her shower. He liked it loose and was forever undoing it from Skye’s preferred ponytail or bun. “Sitting behind a desk or in a patrol car all day doesn’t do much to keep me in shape, and as an older dad, I need to be in tip-top form.”

  Wally had eight years on Skye, a fact May had held against him when he’d first started pursuing her daughter. He was also divorced, which had been another mark in her negative column, at least until he’d gotten an annulment. Now that he and Skye were married, May had finally come around, and she was firmly on Team Wally.

  “Speaking of exercise,” Skye said as Wally continued to unbraid her hair and massage her scalp. “You won’t believe what happened to me this morning after my swim.”

  Wally had finished freeing Skye’s hair and started to rub her shoulders, but he stopped and said, “What? Another run-in with Homer?”

  “Not then.” Skye grimaced. “That came later, after the Trixie part.”

  “Sounds like you had quite a day.” Wally turned his attention to kneading her neck.

  “I did.” Skye relaxed under Wally’s ministrations. “Oh, that feels good.”

  “How about this?” Wally bent his head to nibble at her earlobe.

  “Oh. Yeah.” Skye enjoyed the dizzying current racing through her.

  Wally’s lips seared a path down her throat as he peeled off her T-shirt.

  She felt as if she were floating, and for several long moments she mindlessly enjoyed the sensation of her husband’s mouth and hands exploring her body. Now that they were married, being with Wally felt different, felt better. Possibly, it was being able to make love without the Catholic guilt of premarital sex or the need to go to confession afterward.

  Finally, Skye took Wally’s hand and led him upstairs to their bedroom. No need to make out in the drafty foyer when they had a king-size four-poster at their disposal.

  Once they had shed their clothes, Wally stretched out on the bed, drawing Skye on top of him. She nuzzled his chest, then raised her head so she could look into her new husband’s eyes as she ran her fingers through the pearl-gray strands at his temples. She liked the way the silver emphasized the midnight blackness of the rest of his hair.

  Tracing the smooth olive skin that stretched over his high cheekbones, Skye purred her pleasure. He was such a gorgeous man. And he was all hers.

  With her caresses, Wally’s brown eyes went from the color of milk chocolate to dark. Finally, he captured her right hand and brought it to his lips, kissing and nibbling his way to her wrist.

  She shivered as he nuzzled the sensitive skin there. She responded by kneading the muscles of his broad shoulders while kissing the strong column of his throat. Wally growled and reversed their positions so that she was lying on the mattress. After that Skye lost track of time.

  An hour or so later, while Wally and Skye lay cuddling under the sheet, he asked, “So what happened to you at the pool this morning?” After she described her altercation with Blair, Wally said, “Maybe you should just skip your swim for a while.”

  “Why should I?” Skye got up and started to get dressed again. “From now on, I’ll make sure to check the schedule, and there shouldn’t be any more problems with her.”

  “Just be careful.” Wally got up from the bed, took Skye’s chin in his hand, and tilted her face upward. “She sounds a little crazy, and that can be dangerous.”

  “Trust me.” Skye made a face. “As a psychologist, I know that.”

  “So you’ll avoid her?” Wally headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “I promise.” Skye waited for the water to warm up, then joined him underneath the spray. “I’ll run the other way if I see Blair Hucksford anywhere near the pool.”

  “Excellent plan.” Wally smiled, slid his hand down her hip, and proceeded to show her how good girls were rewarded.

  CHAPTER 6

  AWHFY—Are We Having Fun Yet?

  Seriously? Again? Skye lay completely still, staring up at the ceiling. When she’d first opened her eyes, she’d made the colossal mistake of turning her head too quickly to check the time on the alarm clock. She’d immediately felt as if she’d just taken a roller-coaster ride after eating a really greasy corn dog.

  As she fought to control the queasiness, she ran her schedule through her head. She was supposed to be at the junior high Tuesday mornings, then the high school in the afternoon. And to top it off, she had PPS meetings at both schools. No way could she call in sick.

  Just after midnight, Skye had been jerked from a deep sleep by the thunder and lightning of a severe storm passing through the area. It had taken her forever to doze off again, and she’d hoped to finally be able to snooze at least until her alarm sounded, but once again, she’d woken up before dawn. It was barely five o’clock and still pitch-black in their bedroom. The sun wouldn’t rise for another ninety minutes, and both she and Wally could sleep for at least one more hour. Well, to be perfectly accurate, he clearly could continue to spend time in slumberland. She, on the other hand, although so tired she could cry, couldn’t fall back asleep.

  Suddenly, she was burning up. Trying to cool off, she carefully threw back the covers. A few seconds later, she was freezing. In an attempt to avoid another wave of nausea, she tried to grab the blanket without moving her head. Nope. She couldn’t reach it. As she stretched her fingers toward the elusive quilt, a sharp pain shot up her spine. She whimpered. Okay. This was officially not fun.

  “Are you all right, sugar?” Wally’s warm voice tickled her ear.

  “No.” Skye held back a sob, not wanting the poor guy to have to deal with a hysterical wife as soon as he opened his eyes. “I feel awful.”

  “The doc said the morning sickness might peak at ten to eleven weeks, then diminish between twelve and sixteen.” He gently ran his hand over her stomach. “Seems like Junior is right on time.”

  “Swell. The queasiness better improve at three months, because I don’t know if I can handle thirty more days of this.” Skye made an effort not to whine, but she didn’t succee
d. “And now my back hurts.”

  “Turn over and I’ll give you a massage.” Wally nudged her, and Skye stiffened.

  “I can’t move or I’ll vomit.” Skye froze until the nausea subsided, then said, “I thought this would be the happiest time in my life.” A tear ran down her cheek. “But I’m just sick of being sick. I want to be able to eat an English muffin for breakfast again and drink a cup of coffee without feeling as if I’m going to hurl.”

  “It won’t be too much longer.” Wally stroked her forehead. “You can do it.”

  “I’m disappointed in myself,” Skye confessed. “I thought I’d be stronger.”

  “You are. You’re the toughest person I know.” Wally pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll go get you a cup of ginger tea and some crackers. You just lie here and relax.”

  Wally hurried away, and Skye tried to doze. A few seconds later her eyelids flew open. Great! Now she had to pee. Maybe she could hold it. She concentrated on clenching her muscles and thinking of something dry like the sun beating down on the desert sand.

  Nope! Her visualization wasn’t working. It was get up now or change the sheets later. She eased herself off the mattress and hurried to the bathroom. After using the toilet, she sank to the floor and hugged the bowl, waiting for last night’s ice cream sundae to stage a comeback.

  When Wally returned, Skye said weakly, “One thing being pregnant has taught me—evidently you can keep puking long after you think you’ve finished.”

  “I’m so sorry, darlin’.” Wally stroked her hair. “You know I’d go through this for you if I could.”

  She made a noncommittal sound, not entirely convinced her handsome husband was telling the complete truth. After she sipped her tea and nibbled on a saltine, her queasiness finally subsided enough that she was able to stand.

  When she reached into her duffel for her bathing suit, Wally frowned. “I thought you were going to avoid the pool for a while.”

  “I promised that I’d avoid Blair, not skip my swim.” Skye took off her nightshirt and panties. “Before I left the high school yesterday, I checked, and the area isn’t reserved this morning. Besides, the swim really helps the morning sickness.”