Dead in the Water

by Denise Swanson

  “Are they all right?” Skye asked, then took a bite of rice.

  “As good as they ever are.” Justin pushed away his empty dish. “They only have the one cell phone, no landline, and Mom forgot it was in her pocket and tossed it into the hamper.” He shrugged. “They don’t get many calls, so they didn’t miss it until we showed up.”

  “Luckily it was on and the battery wasn’t dead.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “We found it by calling the number and zeroing in on the ringing.”

  “That was clever,” Skye murmured. It didn’t explain why Justin and Frannie had come to her house, but at least it hadn’t been a true emergency. She tilted her head and asked, “So, Justin, your parents were otherwise fine?”

  “Yeah.” He paused and drained the can of Diet Coke. “But the thing is, I’ve been wondering for a while if I can leave them on their own.”

  “I see how that would be a concern.” Skye nodded. She hated that Justin might feel he needed to give up college to take care of his parents, but she understood his feelings.

  “You can’t just stay here and take care of them,” Frannie snapped. “You’re too good a writer to drop out of school and take a job at a factory.”

  “It would only be until Mom and Dad were able to get their act together.” Justin didn’t lift his eyes from the tabletop.

  “Which will be never.” Frannie’s brown eyes flashed. “They need to step up to the plate and be the adults for once. Yes, they both have issues. But they certainly should be able to handle their own lives and allow you to be able to follow your dreams.”

  Justin scowled and said, “I know that’s what you think, Frannie.” His lips thinned. Clearly, this was an argument they’d had before. “And yeah. I wish had a father like yours. Someone who cared enough about me to deal with his problems. But my parents aren’t ever going to be like him.”

  “Sorry, sweetie.” Frannie scooted her chair over, laid her cheek on her boyfriend’s shoulder, looked at Skye, and said, “Isn’t there some kind of assistance available to help people like Mr. and Mrs. Boward?”

  “Your parents receive social security disability benefits, don’t they?” Skye asked.

  Justin nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll call the co-op’s social worker and see if she can refer me to an agency that is able to provide a caregiver to check on them a few times a week.”

  Skye got up and made a note on the pad by the phone, then walked into the foyer, grabbed her appointment book from the tote sitting on the coatrack bench, and stuck the slip of paper inside it.

  When she got back to the kitchen, the table had been cleared, and Justin was lining up the fruit bowl, napkin holder, and salt and pepper shakers as if there were going to be an inspection.

  Frannie poked him and giggled. “You are so OCD.”

  “I’m not obsessively compulsive.” Justin grabbed her finger and kissed it. “I’m just super meticulous.”

  Justin turned to Skye and said, “It’s nearly seven, so we’d better hit the road. We both have early classes tomorrow.”

  Skye recoiled as a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen window, immediately followed by an explosion of thunder. “The storm seems to be getting worse.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Justin put his arm around Frannie.

  “Let me call Wally and see how the roads are.” Skye snatched the receiver from the base, then repeatedly poked the on button.

  “Something wrong?” Frannie wrinkled her brow.

  “There’s no dial tone.” Skye replaced the handset in the holder.

  “Try your cell,” Justin suggested.

  Skye took it from her pocket and blew out a frustrated breath. “No bars.”

  Frannie and Justin checked their cell phones with no better luck.

  “Shoot!” Now Skye really didn’t want them to leave. If the phones were all out, the rural roads between Scumble River and Champaign might be flooded.

  As she stared at her cell, there was another blinding bolt of lightning, then the distinctive smell of smoke and the crunch of metal being smashed.

  Justin, Frannie, and Skye rushed to the front door and peered outside. One of the enormous oak trees that lined the driveway was split down the middle, with the largest part lying across Frannie’s car.

  “Guess we’re not leaving after all.” Justin sighed, then shrugged and asked, “Do you have anything for dessert?”

  Chapter 2

  “That is because you have no brains.”

  —Dorothy

  “Son of a bitch!” Chief of police Wally Boyd slammed down the telephone. It looked like he was working a double.

  Zelda Martinez had been his last hope, and his call had gone directly to her voicemail. Zelda, as Scumble River’s youngest and only female officer, was usually eager to work a double shift, not only for the money but also for the experience.

  When Tolman had called in sick at the last minute, Wally had known it was going to be tough to find coverage for him, but he hadn’t counted on the storm’s interference. The Scumble River Police Department had only six full-time officers, including Wally, so it just took one case of the flu or someone on vacation to create a staffing problem.

  With two guys stuck on the wrong side of a flooded underpass, two others not answering their phones, and the part-timers, who were supposed to fill in the gaps, unavailable due to their other jobs, Wally was out of options. And as usual, to solve the problem of being short-staffed, he would have to sacrifice time with Skye. He had to figure out a way to employ additional officers before the baby came, because he wasn’t going to be an absentee father.

  Wally walked over to the dartboard on the back of his door and flipped it over, then returned to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a handful of darts. Taking careful aim, he released the projectile and watched in satisfaction as it landed smack-dab in the middle of the mayor’s forehead.

  The police department needed more personnel, but the city council had frozen hiring for all local government services. Although Wally had been begging for an exemption for the PD, with Mayor Dante Leofanti behind the moratorium, he knew he didn’t have a chance at getting the council to allow him to take on another couple of officers.

  Hizzoner was throwing a tantrum because his plot to outsource the town’s law-enforcement services to the county sheriff’s department had been thwarted. He had wanted to use the money saved on police salaries to finance building a mega incinerator on the edge of town so he could charge other communities to burn their trash and funnel the money into his mayoral salary. But once his plans became public, Scumble Riverites had protested, and Dante had been forced to give up his scheme. Which meant the police department would be the last city service the mayor would excuse from the freeze.

  Although Dante was Skye’s uncle, her mother’s brother, their relationship hadn’t ever been particularly cordial. It had deteriorated even further when Skye and Wally had exposed the mayor’s incinerator plans. And because Hizzoner held on to his grudges like a tick stuck to a hound dog, there would be no more money for the PD until he was booted from office.

  However, in order for that to happen, someone needed to run against him. Currently, he was running unopposed in the November election, leaving only a little over two months for a write-in candidate to appear.

  Hell! Wally threw another dart. This one landed on the mayor’s beaky nose. The police department hadn’t even been allowed to replace the idiot who had been fired for dealing drugs. Hizzoner had brushed off Wally’s reasoning that replacing an officer wasn’t the same as a new hire, all the while insisting that the budget didn’t have room for another salary.

  Wally had hoped the city council members would override the mayor, but they were all either in his back pocket or afraid of his wrath. Even Zeke Lyons, the newest council member and the only one who wasn’t one of Dante�
��s old cronies, was too much of a milquetoast to speak up.

  When Zeke had been appointed to fill in the vacancy created after Ratty Milind had a stroke while he was screwing his little side dish in the Dollar or Three store’s parking lot, Wally had hoped Zeke would change the way the council did business. From what everyone had said about Zeke, he had seemed like a stand-up guy who would put the town’s interest before his own. But so far, Zeke hadn’t even opened his mouth at any of the council meetings.

  Which just proved what Wally’s father, Carson, always said—politicians and babies have one thing in common: they both need to be changed regularly and for the same reason. Of course, Carson Boyd was sarchotic—so sarcastic that his targets weren’t sure if he was joking or a whack job.

  Blowing out an exasperated breath, Wally threw the remaining darts, then removed them from the board and flipped it back over. It wouldn’t do for the mayor to come visit and see his own face, impaled by the sharp projectiles, staring back at him.

  Checking that he had his portable radio and flashlight, Wally turned off the lights in his office, stepped into the hallway, and locked the door behind him. If he couldn’t find anyone to cover the afternoon shift, he’d better get his ass out on patrol.

  As he ran down the stairs, Wally grabbed his cell from his shirt pocket and dialed Skye to tell her he wouldn’t be home until midnight. His wife wouldn’t be happy, but he knew she wouldn’t complain. She was employed by the department as a part-time psych consultant and understood the demands of the job.

  When his call didn’t go through and there were only clicks and pops, then a strange buzzing on the landline, he stopped his descent and tried Skye’s cell. That number went to voicemail after the first ring.

  Since Skye had gotten pregnant, she’d faithfully kept her phone turned on and charged up. Maybe she was in a dead zone. Their house was full of mysterious spots where their cells didn’t work.

  Frowning, Wally left a message and headed toward the attached garage. A few steps from the exit, he turned and hurried to the front of the station instead. His mother-in-law, May Denison, was the afternoon dispatcher. She could keep trying to reach Skye while he was out on patrol.

  When Wally walked into the dispatch area, he stopped to stare out of the rain-streaked window. His office was windowless and he was momentarily stunned by the intensity of the howling wind and flashing lightning. He’d been following the weather alerts for the past couple of hours, but clearly the storm was growing worse than had been predicted.

  May pointed outside and said, “It’s getting really bad.” Her forehead wrinkled. “A lot of phones are out and cells aren’t working too well either.”

  At sixty-three, his mother-in-law had the energy of a twenty-five-year-old. She kept her house immaculate, exercised at a nearby community’s fitness center three times a week, and worked the afternoon shift at the PD as a police, fire, and emergency dispatcher. As far as Wally could see, May’s only flaw was her overinvolvement in her children’s lives.

  Skye was thirty-six and her brother, Vince, was forty. Neither needed nor wanted the intense nurturing their mother was determined to provide, which made Wally asking May to check up on Skye a little awkward. His wife wouldn’t be happy that he was siccing her mom on her. But for the past several days, Wally had had an uneasy sensation about Skye’s pregnancy, and he didn’t like the idea of her being alone for the next eight hours.

  “The alerts didn’t make it seem as serious as it looks.”

  “Did you find someone to cover for Paul?” May asked. “I hope he’s okay.”

  “A hot appendix is nothing to mess around with and I’m glad he went to the ER, but I sure wish he would’ve called me when he first felt sick, rather than waiting until the last minute.” Wally scowled. “And no, I wasn’t able to get anyone to work for him.”

  “So you’re staying until Zelda comes on at midnight?” May asked.

  “No choice.” Wally shoved his hands in his back pockets. “But I don’t like the idea of Skye being by herself. Do you think her dad or Charlie would run over and stay with her until I get home?”

  Charlie Patukas was Skye’s godfather. He’d never married or had any children of his own, and he had been like a father to May, whose real dad had died when she was young. He owned the Up A Lazy River Motor Court, but was knee-deep in most of what went on in Scumble River.

  Wally pursed his lips. Maybe Charlie could be talked into running for mayor. It sure wouldn’t hurt to ask. If anyone could win as a write-in candidate, Charlie was that person.

  “Why are you worried?” May’s frantic voice yanked Wally from his musing. “Is something wrong with her or the baby?” She clutched her chest. “What is she hiding from me?”

  “Nothing,” Wally assured his mother-in-law. “It’s just she’s only a few weeks from delivery, and she’s gotten so big it’s hard for her to move.”

  “She can barely fit behind the wheel of her car.” May’s mouth flattened. “That old Bel Air isn’t going to work when she has a baby to haul around. I wish she would have let you buy her that SUV.”

  Wally fully intended for Skye to have a safer vehicle, whether she wanted one or not. In fact, he’d ordered her a Mercedes G-class. It was being delivered to their house this Friday and he couldn’t wait to see her face. The SUV was an extravagant car, but his wife and child deserved the best.

  Unwilling to ruin the surprise, Wally mumbled something noncommittal to May and repeated, “So, do you think either her dad or Charlie would be free?”

  “Jed won’t answer the phone, so let me try Charlie.” May dialed, then said, “It’s busy. Hopefully that means he’s home and the telephone is working. I’ll keep trying. And I’m sure when I reach him, he’ll be happy to go visit his goddaughter.”

  “Great.” Wally glanced out the window. “I need to hit the streets. Let me know if you aren’t able to reach Charlie within the next half hour.”

  “Will do.” May frowned. “I have a bad feeling. Maybe I’ll call someone in to cover for me and go over to your place myself.”

  “Don’t!” Wally realized he’d shouted and modulated his tone. “Skye’s going to be mad enough that I sent Charlie to babysit her. If you take off work to do it, she’ll be upset with both of us.”

  “Well…” May narrowed her eyes, their emerald green the same brilliant color she’d passed on to both her children. “Okay.” She shook her finger at Wally. “But nothing better happen to my daughter or grandchild while I’m stuck here.”

  “If Charlie can’t go over, I’ll stop by and check on her.” Wally’s jaw clenched. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll ask County to cover for me.”

  Wally started to leave but halted when the phone rang. May answered it, then held up a finger, indicating he should wait. She listened for a few more seconds, then frowned and tried to speak.

  Finally, May put her hand over the receiver, looked at Wally, and said, “Myra Gulch called a few minutes ago. Seems her neighbors were playing their music too loud and she wanted the police to make them stop. She’s just called back and is threatening to shoot them.”

  “What’s her address?”

  “1900 Kansas Street,” May read from the computer monitor.

  “Call County for backup!” Wally shouted as he ran toward the police station garage.

  Once he was in his squad car, he raced toward the crazy woman’s address, thankful that the rain had momentarily stopped. Arriving a few minutes later, he leaped out of the cruiser, unsnapped his holster, and hurried up the sidewalk.

  When he knocked on the screen door, it crashed open, clipping him on the side of the head. A woman stood just inside with her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

  Without apologizing, she snapped, “I thought the idiot dispatcher said that nobody was available.”

  “Myra Gulch?”

  “Of course.” Myra
was a plain woman in her late seventies. She wore her gray hair scraped back into a bun and her dark eyebrows formed a disapproving line across her forehead. “I knew threatening to shoot my horrible neighbors would get your attention.”

  “I’ll need you to hand over your gun, ma’am.” Wally kept his fingers on the butt of his weapon.

  “I don’t have a gun, you moron,” she sneered. “I just said that to get your attention.”

  “Threatening to shoot someone is a serious offense.” Wally kept his voice even.

  “And driving me crazy isn’t?” Myra huffed. “If it’s not that stupid dog barking, it’s that awful classical crap. Just listen.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Wally said.

  “Are you deaf?” Myra pulled her white cardigan closed. “The thumping is awful.”

  “You can hear it right now?” Wally asked. The only sound he could make out was the howling of the wind and the water dripping from the house’s eaves. “You know sometimes, if you’re having a panic attack, your heartbeat can thud like a bass line pounding.”

  “I’m not mentally ill.” Myra’s large nose twitched in disapproval. “Go make that noise stop.”

  “Ma’am.” Wally’s patience was wearing thin. “There is no music.”

  “You lazy, good-for-nothing—”

  “Your crazy is starting to show,” Wally said, keeping his voice calm. “You might want to tuck it back in.”

  “I’ll have your job!” Myra ranted. “The mayor is a personal friend of mine.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Wally shrugged. Sometimes you had to burn a few bridges to keep the lunatics away from you, and he was fine with that. “He can post your bail if you do shoot someone.”

  He turned to leave, and when something hit his shoulder, he looked back and saw the witch had thrown a book at him. He picked it up and gently tossed it inside the open door.

  Shaking his head, Wally stared at Myra and said, “Just be aware that falsely reporting a crime wastes the police’s time, and you could be prosecuted.”