If it wasn’t for their home’s current inaccessibility, Skye and Wally could stay with them. With five bedrooms and bathrooms, they had plenty of room.
On the other hand, Skye was glad Carson was sending the motor home, because sharing a house, even with people you loved, could get awkward fast. And between taking care of a toddler and Loretta’s difficult pregnancy, Vince’s family had enough on their plates.
Speaking of families, where was Wally? Why was it taking him so long to check out one residence? He’d warned Skye about the dangers of a structure hit by a tornado. What if a wall had collapsed on him? Considering the current state of confusion in Scumble River, how long would it take for anyone to notice he was missing?
Using the arms of the chair, Skye managed to hoist herself to her feet. She was tired of waiting patiently. Her hormones were screaming that it was past time to have her mother radio Wally for a wellness check.
Before Skye reached the office door, the knob turned and May stepped over the threshold. Her usually immaculate hair was standing on end, her typically crisply pressed uniform was wrinkled, and her face was pale. Whatever lipstick she had applied earlier was long gone and the only hint of its color was smudged in the wrinkles around May’s mouth.
Skye’s chest tightened at her mother’s serious expression and she demanded, “What’s wrong? Why do you look like that? Did something happen to Wally?”
May shook her head tiredly. “No. I promise you he’s fine. He just asked me to get you to the motor court.”
“Why can’t I wait for him?” Skye asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“Wally can’t leave until the coroner comes for the body,” May explained. “And Simon is having trouble getting back from Laurel. He and Emmy were eating at Little Mario’s when the storm struck and now all the usual routes are flooded or blocked with debris.”
At the mention of Simon’s name, she wondered if his mother, Bunny, who managed the bowling alley he also owned, had made it through the storm okay. Skye was fond of the feisty redhead and sorry that she rarely saw her anymore. She needed to make a point to call her and chat. Surely, now that Simon was seeing Emmy, all was forgiven.
After Skye’s marriage to Wally, Simon had started going out with Emerald Jones, a dance instructor at Olive Leofanti’s studio. Olive was both the mayor’s wife and Skye’s aunt. Saying that life in a small town was a tangled web of relationships would be an understatement. And adding an ex’s family to the mix made for a delicate balancing act.
“What body?” It had taken a second for May’s words to get through Skye’s tired brain, but she finally realized what her mother had said and asked, “Who died? Did someone get killed in the tornado?”
“Zeke Lyons.” May’s voice was low and she glanced nervously over her shoulder through the open doorway and down the empty corridor. “Wally found Zeke in his bathroom, but he’s not sure the guy’s death was due to the twister.”
“Oh?” Skye raised an eyebrow, and then, when her mother didn’t elaborate, she prodded, “Why doesn’t Wally think it was due to the tornado?”
“He didn’t say.” May glanced over her shoulder again. “He just told me not to mention his suspicions to Dante or Zeke’s wife.”
“Do the mayor and Mrs. Lyons know Mr. Lyons is dead?” Skye asked.
“Wally spoke to Dante about an hour ago.” May’s lips thinned. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear your uncle screaming.”
“Screaming?” Skye wrinkled her brow. “Was Uncle Dante close to Mr. Lyons?”
“Not at all. Zeke was only appointed to the city council last month.”
“So why was Hizzoner upset?”
“Dante was pitching a fit because Wally refused to come back to the station and tell Zeke’s wife that he was dead.” May rolled her eyes. “Your uncle didn’t want to deal with the poor woman’s grief.”
“Ah. Now I get it.” Skye finally understood. Her uncle’s ability to weasel out of unpleasant tasks was legendary. “So did the mayor end up breaking the sad news to Mrs. Lyons?”
“Of course not,” May said. “He talked Thea into doing it for him. Dante claimed that Billie would take it better coming from a woman.”
Thea, the dispatcher who worked the weekday morning shift, was notoriously softhearted, and Dante never hesitated to use that against her. He was a wizard at finding people’s weaknesses and exploiting them.
“Mom, your big brother is a creep of the worst magnitude,” Skye muttered in disgust.
“Tell me something that I don’t know.” May shrugged, then said, “Let’s go before he tries to make one of us do something yucky.”
“I’d really rather just wait here for Wally,” Skye said, her voice hitching. “What’s the difference where I am? I don’t have any pajamas or clean underwear or even a toothbrush.”
May wrapped Skye in a hug and said, “We’ll get all that for you tomorrow. But right now, for the baby’s sake, you need to rest.” She patted Skye’s back. “Charlie told me that he’d give you one of his T-shirts and the toiletry pack he keeps on hand for folks who forget stuff.”
“I’m not sure his shirt will fit me with this enormous belly.” Skye rubbed her stomach.
“Oh, please.” May snickered. “Charlie’s gut is way bigger than yours.”
Well, that was a first. Skye’s mom wasn’t usually so tolerant of her daughter’s less-than-skinny appearance. May really was mellowing now that Skye was married and expecting.
Smiling, Skye picked up Wally’s duffel, which contained her air-dried shorts and purse, then followed her mother down the steps. As she walked through the police station, she noticed that the bedlam had died to a dull roar.
In the five hours since the tornadoes had ripped through Scumble River, the huge, new Methodist church on the south edge of town had opened its doors, welcoming people with no other place to go for the night. As the news spread, volunteers had assembled, bringing cots, air mattresses, and sleeping bags. Soon afterward, the displaced families had begun leaving the PD and making their way to the shelter.
Although there were far fewer folks in the interior of the station, the parking lot was more crowded than it had been when Skye and Wally had arrived. Vans from all the major television networks were lined up along one side and Dante stood in front of the vehicles, waving his arms. With his chest puffed out, he was clearly pontificating about the disaster.
Skye shuddered at the thought of her uncle in the spotlight. Dante tended to speak impulsively and later deny what he had said. Did he realize denial was a lot harder if your statement was recorded for posterity?
After getting into her mother’s white Olds Eighty-Eight, Skye asked, “Is Wally aware that the PD has been invaded by the media?”
“After a reporter barged into the station, asking how I ‘felt’ about the devastation, and I sent him packing, I radioed Wally.” May glowered. “He warned the PD employees not to make any statements to the press, and told Roy that he was the public information officer.”
“Interesting choice.” Skye leaned back and closed her burning eyes.
“I just hope Roy doesn’t lose it,” May said. “That boy has a short fuse.”
Sergeant Roy Quirk had been Wally’s right hand since before Skye returned to town, but he wasn’t exactly an easygoing man. Before Wally had insisted Roy see a therapist, there had been a few times that Skye had been on the receiving end of his temper and she still had the emotional scars to prove it.
The sergeant had been doing better, but having microphones thrust in your face could try the patience of a saint. And no one had ever suggested that Roy Quirk be canonized.
“Mmm.” Skye was too tired to discuss the sergeant’s issues. “If those vultures get a hint that Zeke Lyons’s death might not be due to the tornado, there would be an even worse feeding frenzy than now.”
“It’ll g
et out.” May’s tone was glum. “There are no secrets in Scumble River.”
May was wrong. There were plenty of secrets in town, and as a school psychologist, Skye knew a lot of them.
Keeping that interesting tidbit to herself, Skye asked, “Did you hear if any other communities around us were affected by the tornadoes?”
“We seem to be the worst hit in this general vicinity,” May answered. “But Brooklyn has significant damage near the highway and Clay Center had a couple of neighborhoods demolished.” She sighed. “And there’s a lot of downstate areas that were hit.”
Skye felt the car turn and opened her eyes. They’d arrived at Up A Lazy River. It was located on Maryland Street, which was part of historic Route 66, and just across the bridge from the center of town.
The motel’s usual guests were fishermen taking advantage of the motor court’s placement on the banks of the Scumble River. Occasionally, a tourist traveling down the Mother Road checked in for a brief stay, but this evening, Skye guessed that Up A Lazy River was full of evacuees from the storm.
The big sign near the road usually flashed a red vacancy sign adorned with a neon-blue river. Tonight, the sign was dark and there were vehicles in front of all the cabins. Evidently, a few lucky families had quickly snatched up all the available rooms.
May parked the Oldsmobile and met Skye as she got out of the car. There were no lights in the office, but the windows in Charlie’s attached apartment glowed invitingly. May and Skye climbed the two steps leading to his place, but before they could knock, Charlie flung open the door and swept them inside.Somehow managing to hug them both simultaneously, he said, “You and Jed okay, May? How about Vince and his family?”
“I told you when we talked before that we’re all fine.”
Charlie nodded and turned to Skye. His intense blue eyes under bushy, white brows scrutinized her face as he demanded, “Everything all right with the baby? You and Wally were fully insured, right?”
“I feel good,” Skye assured him. “But just to be safe, I’ll keep my doctor’s appointment tomorrow and let her check me out.” She patted his arm. “And yes, the house and cars were insured.”
Despite the late hour, Charlie was dressed in his standard uniform of gray twill pants; limp, white shirt; and red suspenders. His face was red and the beads of sweat dotting his forehead concerned Skye.
At seventy-seven, he had high blood pressure and a fondness for steaks, beer, and cigars, which made Skye worry about his health. Especially when he was under stress. Which was often, since he liked being in control and the world didn’t always acquiesce to his wishes.
“Good.” Charlie gripped Skye’s elbow. “I’m getting too old for this kind of BS.” He sighed. “Since stuff is supposed to get better with age, I must be darn near magnificent.” Grimacing, he added, “Too bad nobody told my body.”
“You need to take care of yourself,” Skye admonished, a flicker of fear running down her spine. Her godfather rarely admitted to feeling old.
“Yeah. Right,” Charlie said, then took her arm. “Come on. I put you in the cabin right next to me. Trixie and Owen are on the other side of you.”
“So they made it here?” Skye beamed. “That’s great. I’m so glad you had space for them.”
“Hell yes, I had a place for them.” Charlie frowned at her. “I waited until I heard from friends and family before renting out any of my empty rooms.”
“Of course you did,” Skye murmured, then covered her mouth when she yawned.
“That does it.” Charlie shoved a paper grocery sack in Skye’s left hand; her right hand was clutching the strap of the duffel bag. “Time to get the little mother-to-be in bed. We can talk in the morning.”
As May turned to leave, Skye asked, “Are you and Dad staying at the house?”
“Not tonight.” May blew out a breath. “I’ll stop home for some clothes, but we’re staying at Minnie’s place, since she has a generator. We’ll be there until either the power comes on or Jed can find a generator to buy.”
With a final kiss goodbye, May left and Charlie showed Skye to her cabin. It was a typical 1950s motel room. The walls were paneled in knotty pine, the bed was only a double, and a television sporting rabbit ears sat on a metal stand. Skye stared at the aluminum-foil-wrapped antenna, realizing that the old-fashioned rabbit ears might be a good thing, since cable and satellite were probably not working.
Charlie turned on the light and waved to the bag in Skye’s arms. “I put in one of my T-shirts, a robe I got for Christmas and never wore, and a complimentary toiletry kit. If you give me your clothes, I’ll wash and dry them and have ’em for you in the morning.”
Skye flung her arms around his neck and said, “That would be so awesome.” She let him go and added, “Thank you so much for the room and clothes and everything. I’ll bring my stuff over to you in a few minutes.”
The bathroom wasn’t any more modern than the rest of the cabin. The walls were a lemon yellow, while the sink, toilet, and tub were an odd shade of green. Thank goodness she no longer woke up each day feeling the need to vomit or this color scheme would literally make her sick.
Skye turned on the shower, stripped off her maternity top, bra, sweatpants, and underwear, then stepped under the warm water. It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t ice cold, so she couldn’t complain. It was way better than what a lot of Scumble Riverites had right now.
All too soon, Skye forced herself to get out of the shower. She didn’t want to overtax Charlie’s generator by having to run the water heater too long. She wasn’t sure if that was how it worked, but just in case, she wanted to make sure she didn’t hog the resources.
Skye walked into the main room, thankful that Charlie was so big and tall that his T-shirt made it over her baby bump and still hung nearly to her knees. She didn’t mind sleeping in the altogether with her husband, but if there was a fire, she certainly didn’t want the entire motor court to see her naked.
As she rubbed her wet curls with a towel, the cabin door opened and Wally stepped inside. His expression numb, he gave her a tired smile and took off his duty belt. His tie was missing and his dark hair stood on end as if he’d run his fingers through it again and again.
Although Skye had a million questions, she didn’t ask any of them. Instead, she quickly led him into the bathroom, unbuttoned his shirt, and said, “Charlie offered to wash and dry our clothes so we’d have something to wear tomorrow. I’ll run them over to him while you shower.”
“That’d be wonderful, darlin’.” Wally stepped out of his pants and boxer briefs. “Do you think he might have a spare beer and something to eat? I never did get supper.”
“Absolutely.” Skye dug her shorts out of the duffel bag and gathered the rest of the dirty laundry from the bathroom floor. Then as she turned to go, she said, “I’ll be right back with food and a cold Sam Adams for you.”
“Great. I need a drink.” Wally’s voice was muffled from the water. “Reid finally made it into town and it’s likely that Zeke Lyons was murdered.”
Chapter 7
“The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,” said the Witch, “so you cannot miss it.”
Skye woke slowly the next morning, and when she stretched, her joints creaked as if she were eighty-six instead of thirty-six. Hearing Wally chuckle, she turned her head and saw him grinning at her.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then said, “You know it’s a good stretch when it sounds like you’ve just poured the milk on a bowl of Rice Krispies.”
She snickered when Wally swung his legs over the side of the mattress and groaned as he got to his feet. Giving her a dirty look, he walked over to the door and picked up a plastic sack with their freshly laundered clothes neatly folded inside. A note attached to the bag informed them that breakfast would be ready at seven and scrambled eggs weren’t good cold. Evidently, Unc
le Charlie had used his passkey.
While Wally took his turn in the bathroom, Skye checked her phone. Before going to sleep last night, she had sent a quick text to the intern, instructing her to report to the Stanley County Special Education Cooperative administration building in Laurel. Skye’d had to leave a voicemail for the co-op’s lead school psychologist, since she didn’t have the woman’s cell number, and now she saw that both the intern and psychologist had left messages for her not to worry about them. Skye was beyond relieved to have at least one item removed from her to-do list.
Once Wally and Skye were dressed, they walked next door to Charlie’s apartment for breakfast. He ushered them into the kitchen and ordered them to sit. A mountain of toast was already on the table and he slid plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of them. After pouring Skye a glass of milk and himself and Wally coffee, Charlie took his seat and they began to eat.
Taking a healthy swig of milk, Skye swallowed and said, “I don’t know how we can thank you enough for saving us a cabin and doing our laundry and feeding us, Uncle Charlie.”
Picking up his fork, Charlie pointed it at Skye and said, “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that as you get older, life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the more essential it is not to waste a single bit of it. You and your family are the most important things in my life. I will always do what needs to be done to make sure you all are taken care of.”
Skye swallowed the lump in her throat, reached for her godfather’s hand, and kissed his knuckles. “Right back at you, Uncle Charlie.”
Waving away the emotionally charged atmosphere, Charlie asked, “When’s your doctor’s appointment?”
“Eight thirty. I took the first one so I could get back early for school.” Skye snickered. “Guess I don’t have to worry about that now.” She glanced at Wally. “I thought I’d get Mom to take me so you can stick around here. You probably don’t want to be out of town today.”
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