Murder of a Bookstore Babe

by Denise Swanson

  “Oh, yeah. No one gets a free pass.” Wally led Skye up the stairs to his office. “Orlando claims he got to his AA meeting at quarter to nine and it lasted until eleven. Since Laurel is a forty-five minute drive from Scumble River, that would jibe with him leaving the store at eight. Which would put him in the clear.”

  “How can we check?” Skye tilted her head. “Those meetings are confidential.”

  “I know the guy who’s in charge of that particular meeting. If I tell him I need the information to exonerate one of his participants, he’ll trust me enough to tell me if Erwin was there or not.” Wally flipped through a Rolodex, then picked up the phone and dialed. A few minutes later he hung up and said to Skye, “He’s in the clear. Do you want to call Risé to ask about Xavier?”

  “No.” Skye made a wry face. “But I will.” Could this be more awkward?

  It was not a pleasant conversation, and Skye hoped she’d never have to have a similar one again, but Risé did confirm Xavier’s alibi.

  After Wally buzzed the dispatcher and instructed her to allow Xavier to leave, he sank back into his chair.

  After a couple of minutes, Skye asked, “Are there any other leads?”

  “No.” Wally laced his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling. “We talked to Kayla’s people, we looked into the burglary angle, and you’ve cleared everyone we know who has a grudge against Risé. We’ll have to expand our inquiry to nonlocal investors who lost money when her firm folded.” He shook his head in disgust. “We’ll also have to start over and reexamine all the evidence again.” He sighed. “I sure wish the crime scene guys would hurry up. They promised me some answers by Monday about those plastic pieces found in the vic’s hair.”

  Several more minutes of silence went by before a voice rumbled out of the intercom, “Sorry to interrupt, Chief, but there’s been a multiple-car accident near the entrance ramp to I-55. Our ambulance is on its way, and I’ve called for backup from the Clay Center and Brooklyn EMTs. Do you want their officers, too?”

  “I’ll let you know. Right now, get any of our men you can locate out to the scene ASAP.” Wally had already leaped to his feet. “I’m on my way.” He was halfway to the door when he turned to Skye and tossed her a set of keys attached to a sterling silver disc. “Take the Thunderbird. There’s no telling how long I’ll be.”

  “Be careful,” Skye called after his retreating back. “I’ll come by and pick you up tomorrow after church.”

  Skye’s head was spinning with conflicting emotions as she drove herself home. On one hand, she was relieved that Xavier had an alibi. She hadn’t let herself think how awful it would be if Frannie’s father was the killer. It was also great that Xavier had a decent chance of getting his and the veterans’ club’s money back eventually.

  On the other hand, she was dismayed. With the exception of the men she’d dated in the past, Skye had always considered herself a good judge of character. But Xavier, someone she had grown to like and trust, had lied to his boss and had an affair with his best friend’s wife. Apparently he had fooled her, and she worried about whom else she might have misjudged.

  Then there was the little annoying fact that Kayla’s murder investigation was stalled. They had completely run out of leads.

  Skye parked the T-bird, wiggled out of the car, and dragged herself up the front steps of her house. When she opened the door, she heard the phone. Who in the world would be calling after midnight? As she dodged past Bingo, who had greeted her with his tail waving in the air and purring, the ringing stopped. She ran into the kitchen, hoping to catch whoever was calling while they were in the process of leaving a message, but the flashing light was already blinking.

  She checked the number on caller ID, didn’t recognize it, and immediately hit REDIAL, but no one answered. Skye frowned. It had been less than a minute or two since the ringing had stopped. What had they done? Drop the phone and run away?

  Bingo rubbed against her shins, and she scooped him up, cradling the furry comfort device. She pushed the button to hear her messages. The first trio were from her mother, each more hysterical and demanding than the last. Essentially it was the same old, same old. May wanted to know where Skye was and why she wasn’t answering her phone, where Vince was and why he wasn’t answering his phone, and why her ungrateful children were trying to give her a heart attack and kill her.

  Skye erased all three, feeling a little guilty, but she knew May’s penchant for exaggeration and was fairly certain an unanswered call would not put her mom in the hospital. Besides, Skye had no news, and she didn’t have the energy to spend an hour or more reiterating that fact or reassuring her mother that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were not stampeding down Basin Street. It was too late to phone her parents anyway.

  The last message, the one she had apparently just missed, was from Vince. Skye sagged against the counter in relief that he was okay. “I’m fine. Talk to you in person tomorrow night. Come to Tales and Treats café at six, and tell Mom and Dad to be there at half past, since you know they’ll be at least fifteen minutes early. Make sure you arrive before they do.”

  Son of a gun! Skye’s mood darkened. What was her brother up to? The bookstore closed at four on Sunday, and obviously he hadn’t phoned their mother, which meant Skye would have to do it. Thank goodness it was past her parents’ bedtime.

  Lights-out for May and Jed was ten thirty, as soon as the news was over. She could put off the call until tomorrow morning, when she was awake and alert. Skye had learned a long time ago that talking to her mom without being in full control of her faculties was never a good idea, especially when she had something to hide.

  Before going to sleep, Skye needed to unwind, and she knew just the way. As she waited for the tub to fill, she stripped off her clothes, then twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head. Looking around the newly enlarged and remodeled bathroom, she smiled contentedly.

  It had been worth every cent she’d paid to bring the space into the twenty-first century—and heaven knows she’d spent a lot of pennies. Gone were the leaky pipes, dingy linoleum, and antiquated fixtures. Now there was a separate shower, oversize Jacuzzi, and built-in vanity. She had chosen shades of green for the tile and the paint, and as she slipped into the hot water and leaned back, she gazed at images of clouds rather than a cracked ceiling.

  Stretching out, she let the bubbles flow through her fingers, willing her mind to stop whirring and relax. She had dozed off when she jerked awake. There, at the edge of her dream, was a clue, but as she concentrated, it slipped away. She knew she was overlooking something in the murder case, but what?

  She reached out idly to stroke Bingo, who was curled up on the bath mat waiting patiently for her to go to bed. What was she missing? They had checked out all of the local people who might want Risé dead. The only ones left would be someone from her previous life, who might have tracked her to Scumble River. But was that really likely?

  Risé had been cleared by the law, and her boss was in prison. Unhappy investors were more apt to go after him, weren’t they? So, where did that leave the investigation?

  Suddenly, Skye sat straight up, splashing Bingo, who ran away with an indignant howl. What if she’d been mistaken all along? What if Risé wasn’t the intended target and Kayla was? What if the murderer had killed the woman he intended to kill?

  Damn! That would put them right back where they had started. Wally’s officers had looked into Kayla and hadn’t found any reason someone would want to kill her. So who had done it?

  Skye toed open the drain and got out of the tub. She didn’t have an answer to that question, but she was pretty sure she knew where to find someone who might. Someone who wouldn’t have told the police anything. As Father Burns always said, the Lord would provide.

  May was glad to hear that Vince was okay, but she was extremely displeased that he’d called his sister and not his mother. May was also unhappy that Skye had not gotten any details as to his whereabouts. But sh
e agreed that she and Jed would be at the bookstore café as per Vince’s instructions. The only thing that had saved Skye from lengthy recriminations was that her mom had to get to six o’clock Mass.

  Which was why she had called May at five forty a.m. Thank goodness Xenia attended a later service, since Skye wasn’t sure what her priority would have been if the teenager also went to the early Mass—avoiding May or talking to Xenia.

  Skye didn’t know how long Xenia had been going to church, since Skye usually went at eight. But a few months ago, she’d had to attend the eleven o’clock Mass, and she’d been surprised to see the teenager there. Somehow the Goth-punk apparel didn’t seem to go with Catholicism, but Xenia was anything but predictable.

  Now Skye kept an eye on her as Father Burns concluded the service, saying, “The Mass is ended. Go in peace.”

  After the parishioners responded, “Thanks be to God,” Father Burns added, “Remember, a closed mind is usually accompanied by an open mouth.”

  Smiling, Skye joined the congregation shuffling down the aisle toward the exit. As always, Mass had made her feel at peace, but it was time to talk to Xenia about Kayla. And this time she wasn’t giving up until she got the whole story.

  When Skye had tried before, she’d accepted Xenia’s claim that Kayla was an angel and there was no one who would want to hurt her, but now Skye wondered whether she’d been too quick to believe Xenia. No one was that perfect, and Xenia had to know more about Kayla than she had told Skye. After all, who had more dirt on a teenage girl than her best friend?

  “Wait up, Xenia.” Skye caught up with the girl at the foot of the stairs, and they moved onto the grass.

  “Ms. D.” Xenia stopped. “I bet I was the last person you thought you’d see at church.”

  “Not the last person . . .” Skye trailed off, not wanting to lie. “But I thought maybe with your trust issues—”

  “Hey,” Xenia cut her off. “I believe God loves me. I just think he has a really, really wack way of showing it sometimes.” She grinned. “Besides, I like asking Father B. questions that get him all riled up. I’m an equal-opportunity annoyer.”

  Skye couldn’t imagine the priest “all riled up,” so instead of commenting, she asked, “How about I buy you lunch?”

  “McDonald’s or the Feed Bag?” Xenia challenged.

  “You pick.”

  Xenia weighed the choices. “Since you probably want to pump me about Kayla again, McDonald’s is more private.”

  “True.” Skye was glad that Xenia seemed to be in a cooperative mood. “Then McDonald’s it is.”

  “I’ll meet you there. Get me a Big Mac, fries, and a large coffee,” Xenia said, then started off to the right. “The lot was full, so my car’s parked on the street.”

  Skye nodded and headed in the opposite direction. She hoped this wasn’t Xenia’s way of ditching her.

  When she arrived at McDonald’s, Xenia had staked out a booth in the back corner. Skye placed their order and joined the girl once their meals were ready.

  Skye slid into the seat opposite Xenia and distributed the food. “Thanks for talking to me.”

  “Duh. Like you wouldn’t have hounded me until I did.” Xenia decapitated a sugar packet and poured the contents into her cup, stirred, then asked, “So, what’s up?”

  “I need you to be straight with me.” Skye had thought a lot about how to approach Xenia and decided head-on was the best way. “I know Kayla was your friend, and you don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but we need to find her killer. No one is as wonderful as you described Kayla to me last time we talked.”

  “True,” Xenia agreed without the least bit of embarrassment. “But why should I tell you Kayla’s personal business?” She fiddled with her stirrer, spattering the tabletop with droplets of coffee. “Besides, I thought you told me yesterday that the murderer was after Ms. Vaughn, not Kayla.”

  “Now I think I was wrong.” Skye shook her head. “Something’s been bothering me, and I think I figured out what. Your version of Kayla and Chase’s version of Kayla are too dissimilar. It’s almost as if you two were talking about different girls.”

  “That’s ’cause he had no idea who she really was.” Xenia took a bite of her sandwich, swallowed, and added, “He thought she should be like some nineteen-fifties housewife—pop out two-point-five kids, make his dinner, and clean up after everyone.”

  “And you thought she should pursue her art and become a famous director.” Skye gave Xenia a calculating glance. “Was that her dream or yours?”

  “Both of ours.” Xenia sneered. “Chase is a jerk. He’s just like Kayla’s stepdad.”

  “You’re sure?” Skye made a face. “One of my personality flaws, and a bad one considering I’m a psychologist, is that I’m often too quick to judge people.”

  “I’m right about Kayla.” Xenia’s voice was firm. “And about Chase.”

  “One thing I always try to remember is that the side a person shows you is not always representative of them as a whole.” Skye stabbed her salad over and over with her fork as she considered Xenia’s statements. “Kayla had to see something in Chase. They were together a long time.”

  “Back when they first started dating, he was what she needed—someone to love her more than anyone else. He was a way to escape from her family and for her to be number one in someone’s life.” Xenia twisted a skull-shaped ring on her finger. “But that was years ago. When Kayla started film school in Chicago, she got a taste of freedom and saw what life outside of Scumble River could be like. It made her think that maybe Chase wasn’t the right guy for her.”

  “Chase said they were getting married later this month.”

  “True. She agreed a couple of weeks ago to marry him.” Xenia narrowed her eyes. “But now that we’re talking about it, Kayla said something the night before she was killed that made me wonder if she’d changed her mind.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t remember exactly.” Xenia shook her head. “It was just a fleeting impression.”

  “Interesting.” Skye thought for a moment. “Did you tell me that the night Kayla died, Chase started calling you sometime before eleven o’clock?”

  “Yeah.” Xenia nodded. “Way before. Maybe as early as quarter after eight or eight thirty.”

  “Oh.” Skye’s mouth dropped open and she sat up straighter. “He told me he didn’t start calling you until after midnight.”

  “Then he lied. And I can prove it. I haven’t erased his messages.”

  “I need to talk to Chase.” Skye felt the ghost of an idea percolating in the back of her mind.

  “Not without me.” Xenia stood up. “Let’s go. I know just where to find him.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter

  “Don���t you have to get to work?”Skye asked. Despite her attempt to dissuade Xenia from accompanying her, the teenager doggedly followed Skye to her car, plunked down in the passenger seat, and ignored Skye’s commands to get out.

  “I’m not missing this.” Xenia whipped out her cell. “I’ll call in sick. They’ll be okay without me.”

  “You’re going to make this harder,” Skye argued. “He’ll probably talk to me more openly if you aren’t there, since you two don’t get along.”

  “So, you’ll have to work for it.” Xenia crossed her arms. “Deal.” When Skye glowered, Xenia asked, “Do you think he killed Kayla?”

  “I don’t know.” Skye measured her words carefully. “I want to check on something.” What the Dooziers had said about Kayla’s winning film, and what Xenia had said about thinking that Kayla had had a change of heart regarding marrying Chase, were starting to add up, not to mention his lie about the timing of his calls to Xenia. But Skye still wasn’t sure she’d done the math correctly.

  Part of her refused to believe that the young man who was so torn up at seeing his fiancée crushed under a bookcase could be the one who put her there. However, another part of her knew it all fi
t. If she was correct about the motive, Chase may even have convinced himself he didn’t do it. Another thing to keep in mind was that Chase was a darn good actor. His Prince Charming in the school’s production of Sleeping Beauty had been outstanding.

  “What do you want to check on?” Xenia asked. “Do you think he murdered her because she broke off their engagement? That’s pretty wack, even for him.”

  Skye ignored the girl’s questions. “I am going to call the chief and have him on the line while we talk to Chase.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “Yes. You told me Chase will be at the park playing baseball, so he has no expectation of privacy. Plus, I’m not recording him.” Skye paused, considering what the city attorney had told her when she was hired as a consultant, then murmured half to herself, “We aren’t arresting him or even taking him to the police station, plus I’m not a sworn officer so I don’t have to read him his rights.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’ll be back in a second.” Skye got out of the Thunderbird and said over shoulder, “Don’t forget to let Risé know you’re not coming in.” As soon as Skye was out of Xenia’s earshot, she phoned Wally, explained her theory, and asked him to check something with the ME. Although Wally wasn’t thrilled with her idea, he did agree that bringing Chase into the PD and formally interviewing him probably would not elicit much information.

  When she pointed out that Chase was a long shot and they would be in a public place, in full view of dozens of witnesses, Wally finally acquiesced, saying, “The only reason I’m going along with this is because I know if I don’t, you’ll do it without me. At least this way I can be nearby to protect you.”

  “True. And I appreciate your being there.” Skye smiled. At least he realized his limitations. “I’ll call you back once we find him, and if I need you, I’ll say, ‘Thanks for clearing that up.’”

  “Fine. I’ll ask the medical examiner your question.”

  As Skye and Xenia drove to the baseball field, Skye outlined what she wanted Xenia to do, then asked, “Any questions?”