Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

by Denise Swanson

  She fought waves of nausea and a headache caused by a breakfast too large, a morning too hot, and a firing squad waiting for her behind the glass doors.

  May had insisted Skye eat every bite of the many dishes she had prepared. Being accustomed to only tea and toast in the morning, Skye felt as force-fed as a calf about to become veal.

  Once again Skye had tried to take a day off by using a personal day, but this time she’d been told the superintendent wanted to see her at nine sharp. A parent had made a complaint against her.

  Nervously clearing her throat, Skye made eye contact with the superintendent’s secretary, a tall, voluptuous woman in her late forties with wavy red hair floating over her shoulders. Everyone insisted that she was having an affair with her boss, but no one could prove it.

  Skye tried smiling. “Hi, Karolyn. I understand Dr. Wraige wants to see me.”

  Karolyn arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow and made a show of flipping the pages in her appointment book. “Yes, I see you’re down for nine.” She looked up at the clock and tsked. “You’re a few minutes early and he’s on the phone.”

  Having not been offered a seat, Skye stood off to one side watching the minutes tick by. The outer office was old-fashioned, with dark wood paneling and matching furnishings. The computer terminal on the back wall looked out of place.

  She was about to ask to use the adjoining rest room when the phone buzzed and Karolyn rose from her desk. She unlatched the waist-high gate and allowed Skye into the inner office. Knocking once, Karolyn opened the door slightly and stood back.

  As soon as Skye squeezed her way through, the door was pulled shut. The superintendent sat in a huge leather chair behind a massive walnut desk. Matching onyx in-box, pencil cup, and blotter were the only items on its smudgeless glass top.

  He gestured for Skye to take a seat in one of the wing chairs facing him.

  Dr. Wraige laced his fingers across his chest and stared through watery blue eyes. His gray hair, swept back in a pompadour, was the exact shade of his suit and skin. After a few moments of intimidating silence, he spoke. “Miss Denison, we seem to have a little problem.”

  “Oh?” Skye knew how to play the waiting game, even if she didn’t enjoy it.

  He drummed his fingers on his stomach. “It seems that one of your recent decisions has caused an upset for some parents.”

  Her mind raced. Which ones? The Yoders, Mr. Doozier, the Underwoods? I can’t let on there is more than one. “I see. What exactly is the problem?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. It’s Mayor Clapp’s son.” The superintendent leaned forward. “He was not happy with the results of your evaluation.”

  “Why?” Skye was truly confused.

  This had been a strange case all along. Cray Clapp was a senior with good grades and a top five-percent ranking in his class. When Skye had first received the referral, she had turned it down since the boy did not seem to have any characteristics that would suggest a learning disability. His IQ and achievement seemed to match, and if he had any processing problems, they weren’t interfering with his learning.

  The high school principal, Homer Knapik, had ordered her to do the assessment regardless. So, she had wasted three hours of her time and the student’s. And as she’d suspected, he’d shown no sign of having a learning disability.

  Dr. Wraige squirmed. “Perhaps you’re not aware of Cray’s score on the ACT.”

  “No, I can’t say that I am.” Skye looked puzzled. “That’s not the type of testing I do.”

  “I’m cognizant of that.” He scowled. “But you do know that to gain admittance to a top university one has to have the grades, the class rank, and a top ACT score.”

  “Yes. Last time I checked, a school such as the University of Illinois required anywhere from a twenty-seven to twenty-nine to be accepted by their various colleges.”

  “Correct. Cray scored a twenty-four.” Dr. Wraige’s eyes bored into hers.

  Skye frowned. “I’m sorry to be so dense, but what does that have to do with me?”

  He sat back in his chair and spoke slowly, as if to someone who was not very bright. “If Cray is certified as having a handicapping condition, such as a learning disability, he is allowed certain modifications when taking the ACT. These can include more time, calculators, dictionaries . . . Need I go on?”

  “No. I understand.” She sagged. “You want me to lie so the mayor’s son can get a score he doesn’t deserve.”

  Dr. Wraige scowled. “That statement was impertinent.”

  She didn’t speak.

  “Look, you and I both know that psychological testing is not always as precise as we would like to think.” He oozed sincerity. “Isn’t it possible that you could have overlooked something in your evaluation of Cray Clapp?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded. “It’s not like a blood test. There is a lot that affects the assessment.”

  “Exactly. All I’m asking is that you take another look at your results and see if there’s anything you might have missed.” He opened his drawer and withdrew a sheaf of papers, which he handed to her. “I called Springfield and got this information on students who have both a gifted-level IQ and a learning disability. Maybe they’ll point you in a different direction.”

  “How did you get the state to respond so quickly? It takes them months when I request information.” Skye flipped through the pages in her lap.

  “Friends in the right places.” He smiled insincerely. “You know. You do me a favor, then I owe you one. It’s how the big boys play.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Little Boy Blue, Go Blow Your Horn

  Skye had worked the rest of the day at the elementary school finishing up odds and ends. Now she sat in her borrowed Buick and considered her life. She couldn’t go to her cottage. She had called around and the fastest anyone would agree to come and fix the windows was in two weeks.

  She still hadn’t gotten the insurance check so she couldn’t afford to buy a car. And now it looked like she might lose her job.

  The superintendent’s wanting her to change her test results was so similar to the situation that had gotten her fired from her last school that she wondered if she had missed the day in graduate school when the professor told the class it was okay to falsify records if it meant keeping your job. In both cases her superior wanted her to lie in order to appease someone with power and money.

  In New Orleans, the coordinator of special education had ordered her to withdraw her allegation of child abuse. Skye had refused to retract her report, even after the little girl was pressured into saying she had made the whole event up.

  Could she go through that again? If she got fired this time, she’d never find another job as a school psychologist. Skye’s thoughts grew darker and she sank farther down in the seat, her chin resting on her chest. All those years of education would go down the tubes and she’d be left with nothing but her student loans to repay.

  Squealing brakes and a slamming car door roused her from her rumination. Her heart started pounding faster when she heard the slap of leather soles on asphalt. Was someone else coming to harass her? Straightening from her slumped position, she was just in time to see Simon appear outside her windshield. He crossed his arms and looked down at her.

  Skye opened the passenger door and motioned him inside.

  “Have you been avoiding me?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

  “No. My life just sort of got out of hand.”

  “That seems to happen to you a lot.” His voice was steely.

  She twitched, feeling that their relationship was another aspect of her life that was slipping out of her control. “Shoot. I’ve been meaning to call you.” It was good to see him, although he was clearly irritated with her. Even angry, he always seemed so calm, so together. She had always been attracted to sophisticated men. “Sorry.”

  While Skye told him about being kidnapped by her cousins, the new set of crazy parents, and her broken windows, Simon put his arm around her a
nd hugged her wordlessly. She deliberately left out the superintendent’s ultimatum, afraid to hear Simon’s advice.

  “You’ve had a tough week.”

  “Yes, I have. Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for the balloon bouquet.”

  “I didn’t send you balloons. What are talking about?”

  She shrugged and explained, concluding with, “I wonder who sent them.” I’ll have to call around and find out.

  Simon’s eyes hardened, but he remained silent.

  After a few seconds of wallowing in the comfort of his arms, Skye pulled away. Simon was such a take-charge kind of guy that she feared he would take over and “fix” her life if she showed the slightest indication of allowing that to happen. “Everything’s fine now. I was just a little shaken. Sorry to worry you.”

  He took her face in his hands and leaned forward until their lips were touching. “When all this is settled, we need to have a serious talk.” He kissed her lightly and sat back.

  Skye tried to keep her expression noncommittal as her thoughts raced. I can’t think about that right now.

  Simon glanced at his Rolex and reached for the door handle. “Sorry to run off on you, but I’ve got a wake at four, and it takes at least half an hour to get everything set.”

  “Sure, I understand. By the way, I’m staying with my parents until my windows are fixed, so call me there. I do plan on being at work tomorrow, since it’s the last day and I hate to miss the awards assembly. One of the kids I see for counseling won the essay contest.” Skye craned her neck to look up at him.

  “I forgot to tell you why I was looking for you in the first place.” Simon squatted beside the open doorway, took her hands, and lowered his voice. “We got the results of your grandmother’s autopsy. She was poisoned.” He offered her the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his gray suit.

  Skye waved it off. She wasn’t going to cry, even though she felt a catch in her throat and was saddened that someone had shortened a life that was already starting to wane. After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and asked, “How about Grandma’s housekeeper? It was her in the well, right?”

  “Yes, it was her. We don’t have results of her autopsy back yet, probably tomorrow.”

  “Do you anticipate any other cause of death?”

  “No, it was probably the same poison that killed your grandmother.” A line formed between Simon’s brows. “The chief told me to share this information with you, but I can’t say I approve. It’s his investigation; still I don’t think he should be spreading evidence around. It’s hard enough to keep a secret in Scumble River.”

  “Maybe the chief realizes that I can help in finding out what happened to my grandmother.” Skye shook off Simon’s hands, remembering how she disliked his arrogance, his belief that he was always right. “And since ninety-nine percent of my job requires confidentiality, Wally probably trusts me enough to know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  Simon raised an eyebrow. “There was a pan of brownies wedged in the well alongside Mrs. Jankowski. That’s apparently how the poison was administered. And the stomach contents of your grandmother contained brownies.”

  “What kind of poison was it?” Skye asked.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. Dead is dead.”

  May and Jed were sitting on lawn chairs in front of the open garage when Skye drove down the gravel lane. Their house, a red brick ranch, was situated on an acre of lawn that looked like the plush fur of a green stuffed animal. Flowers lined the sidewalks and edged the buildings. Perfectly trimmed evergreens protected three sides of their lot.

  A family of plaster deer stood guard near the edge of the drive, and a concrete goose dressed in a graduation cap and gown graced the back steps. Skye shook her head, wishing she could persuade her mother to get rid of the goose, or at least stop dressing it up.

  Skye yelled a greeting to her parents as she slid out of the car and headed inside. She showered and changed into blue denim shorts and an orange University of Illinois T-shirt. A quick check showed Bingo asleep on Skye’s bed. Full food and water bowls were on the floor and his litter box was clean. Her mother might not like indoor animals, but she was sure taking good care of this one.

  Skye grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and slid her feet into sandals, then joined her parents outside.

  Not surprisingly, May spoke first. “So what was so important that you had to go into work?”

  Skye contemplated the issue of confidentiality before speaking. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you. There’s a youngster I evaluated and did not find learning disabled. If he had been diagnosed with an LD handicap he would get certain help in taking the college entrance exams, which would probably raise his scores. His father is pressuring the superintendent to make me change my mind and call him LD.”

  “And if you don’t?” May asked.

  “Dr. Wraige never said, but I had a feeling I would be fired.” Skye slumped against the side of the garage. Just saying the word made her feel weak.

  “I think I’ll invite Charlie to dinner tonight.” May hopped up from her chair.

  “That wouldn’t be because he’s president of the school board, would it?”

  May shrugged. “Of course not. It’s just been a while since he’s been over and since you’re here, I thought it would be nice for him to get a chance to visit with his goddaughter.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but Uncle Charlie has done enough by helping me get this job in the first place. I’ll work this one out on my own.” Skye leaned down to scratch a mosquito bite.

  “Okay, but call him if things get rough.” May continued into the house, talking over her shoulder. “I’ve got to check on dinner.”

  Jed took a swallow from his can of beer and stared off at the fields. “I hired Warner Post to fix your windows. He said they’ll have it done by Sunday.”

  “But I already called around. Everyone told me it would be two weeks before they could even start. I hired someone else.”

  Jed crossed his arms. “They’ll be fixed before those other guys get around to it.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to do stuff like this. I can take care of it myself.”

  “It’s better to hire people we know.”

  Skye took her mother’s vacant seat, leaned back, and contemplated the clouds. Finally she said, “Thanks. But from now on let me handle stuff like this myself. I’ll ask for help if I need to.”

  Jed adjusted his cap. “I’ll go out tomorrow and make sure they’re working.”

  She counted to ten, all the while reminding herself how much her parents loved her. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve got to go into school tomorrow since it’s the last day.” Skye sipped her soda. “I’d better go give Mom a hand with dinner.” Skye headed toward the door.

  May was peering into the oven when Skye entered the kitchen. The smell of roasting beef made her mouth water, and reminded her that she had eaten only a few crackers and cheese for lunch.

  She leaned against the counter. “Mom, have you spoken to Chief Boyd lately?”

  “I’m working midnights this week so he talked to me this morning when he came in at seven. I know Grandma was poisoned.”

  “Did he tell you about the pan of brownies?” Skye reached to get plates from the cabinet.

  “Yes. He’s going to have everyone in the family back in for questioning.” May’s expression didn’t give away her feelings. “He also said I could go in and clean up the mess from the search.”

  “Want me to help?”

  “No, I’ll do it tomorrow morning when you’re at school.”

  They were silent as Skye set the table and May stirred a pot on the stove.

  Skye finally said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be right.”

  May put down the wooden spoon and wrapped her arms around Skye. “It’s okay. Bad as it may be, I want to know who murdered my mother.” She held Skye away from her and looked into her eyes
. “But the others probably won’t feel that way.”

  “Especially the one who killed her.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t one of the family.” May turned back to her cooking.

  “Maybe. Do you know anything about those survivalists who were bugging Grandma?” Skye drummed her fingers on the countertop.

  “Not really. We’ve had a lot of complaints about them at the police station, but we haven’t been able to catch them in the act or get any evidence against them.” May narrowed her eyes. “Why? Do you think they may have had something to do with Mom’s death?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to talk to the chief after school tomorrow and make sure he investigates them.”

  “I could talk to Wally.”

  “No, I need to ask him about other stuff too.” Skye didn’t want to admit that she wanted to find out who in the family had an alibi and who didn’t.

  “Just remember he’s a married man,” May muttered.

  “For crying out loud. I was fifteen when I had that crush on him. It’s been sixteen years. Give it a rest.”

  “I don’t like the way you two look at each other.” May shook her head. “Tell Dad to come in. Supper’s almost ready.”

  Skye was more than willing to change the subject. “What are we having?”

  “Stuffed round steak, green bean casserole, salad, and corn muffins.” Steam billowed out of the oven door as May removed the roasting pan.

  When Skye got back from calling her father, May was ready to slice the meat. She had placed it on a wooden cutting board and held a huge carving knife. Golden stuffing oozed from each portion as she set it aside and went on to the next. The smell of sage mixed with the aroma of roast beef.

  While Jed washed up in the half bath off the utility room, Skye set various bowls and platters on the table. May poured iced tea for Skye and herself. Jed brought his can of Miller Lite with him.