Ew! Skye nearly dropped the receiver. May was really upset if she was talking about sex.
“So, you have to find out,” May finished saying. “I’ve been so worried; I couldn’t get a thing done today. I’m lucky I got the bed made, the breakfast dishes washed, and the carpet vacuumed.”
“Mom, it’s not even nine o’clock.” Skye blew out an exasperated breath. “The day is hardly over.”
“Whatever.” May shrugged off Skye’s comment. “Just find out what’s going on with your brother.”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself when you feed him today?” Skye continued to be miffed that her mother delivered meals to Vince at his hair salon. She never brought food to school for Skye.
“He said he didn’t need lunch this week because salesmen were bringing pizza and subs a couple of days, and he’d have the leftovers the rest of the time.” May’s voice held disbelief that her son would prefer takeout food to her cooking. “In fact, he said he was superbusy this week and probably wouldn’t talk to me until after Sunday.” She paused for breath. “Which is why I can’t call him, and you need to speak to your brother, then report back to me.”
“I’ll try.” Skye poised her finger over the disconnect button. “Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot of kids to see today.”
“Whoa, Nelly, not so fast.” Apparently May was far from finished. “A little bird said that you and Wally were talking to Father Burns.”
“We told you, he’s filing the papers to get an annulment.” Skye stiffened. Now what?
“And how’s that going?” May sounded like she already knew the answer.
“Fine.” Skye silently counted to ten, then did it again. “Why?”
“I heard that they can’t find that ex-wife of his.” May’s tone was gleeful. “What if he killed her and the body is buried in his backyard?”
Skye took a deep breath before answering; screaming at her mother would only mean she’d have to go to confession. “You know darn well Darleen moved to Alaska. Why would you even say something like that?”
May had talked herself into a corner but rallied. “You never know. Look at all those people on TV who live next door to serial killers without ever realizing it, then claim their neighbors were so nice.”
“Mom, leave it alone.” Skye’s voice was firm. “Or do you want Wally and me to elope?” Oops! She probably shouldn’t have mentioned the E word.
Her mother’s scream was loud enough to be heard in Chicago; luckily Skye had moved the receiver away from her ear. “Now, there’s someone knocking on my office door and I really have to go.” Skye didn’t wait for her mother to respond. “Love you. Love to Dad. Bye.”
She kept her finger on the disconnect button while she tried to figure out how to have her calls sent directly to voice mail. Skye knew her mother would call back as soon as she figured out a comeback.
Skye was chewing over the fact that she and her mother could keep several psychiatrists busy well into the next millennium when the PA system squawked, “Ms. Denison, please come to the office.” Ursula’s voice was both formal and annoyed, which meant someone was with her, and he or she was making a request of which the secretary didn’t approve.
She felt a frisson of unease. Had May decided to come in person to harangue her further? Her mother and Ursula had some longtime feud going, Skye had no idea what about.
“Ms. Denison, please come to the office.”
Yikes! Ursula hadn’t even given her a minute to get there before repeating the message. Skye wasn’t expecting any parents, and if one had come without an appointment, that usually meant trouble.
Skye grabbed her key, locked the door behind her, and rushed toward the front of the school. When she entered the main office, she hurried to the counter and asked Ursula, “Why didn’t you use the intercom?”
“Your line was busy.” Ursula clipped off the words, giving them an impatient edge.
“Sorry.” Skye had long ago stopped trying to defend herself to Ursula. “What’s up?”
“Her.” The secretary pointed behind her to where Risé Vaughn stood in the health room doorway chatting with Abby Fleming, the school nurse.
“She”—Ursula’s pause was almost imperceptible—“insisted on seeing you.”
“Oh.” Skye looked toward Risé. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” Risé glanced pointedly at Ursula.
“Is this about one of our students?”
Risé ignored Skye’s question. “I’d prefer to speak to you alone.”
“Okay.” Skye gestured over her shoulder. “We can use my office.”
“Thank you.”
Now what? This day was going downhill fast. Skye led the way and Risé followed, the only sound the squeak of the bookstore owner’s tennis shoes on the worn gray linoleum.
Once they were seated, Skye behind her desk and her visitor on a folding chair, Risé said, “I hope this isn’t a bad time. You seem a little tense.”
“No. It’s fine.” Skye rubbed the back of her neck. “I just got off the phone with my mother.”
“Did you two have words?” Risé’s expression was sympathetic.
“Yeah.” Skye made a wry face. “But I didn’t get to use mine.”
“Ah.”
When Risé didn’t go on, Skye asked, “What can I do for you, Risé? I don’t have any information I can share with you about your burglary or Kayla’s death.”
“I’m not here about that.” Risé flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. Today she was wearing blue jeans and an orange T-shirt with FICTION REVEALS TRUTHS THAT REALITY OBSCURES—JESSAMYN WEST printed on it.
“Then how can I help you?” Skye wondered what Risé was doing at the junior high. “Do you have a student here?”
“No, Orlando and I never had children,” Risé stated, almost daring Skye to comment.
“I see.” Skye tilted her head. Why was the bookstore owner pussyfooting around? Risé had struck her as someone who was more direct.
“Anyway.” Risé cleared her throat. “I don’t generally like to ask for favors . . .”
Oh-oh.
“But I’m in a bind.” Risé reached into her shoulder bag and handed Skye a flyer. “Part of Kayla’s duties was to lead our teen book club.”
“I remember seeing a notice for the book club, and having Kayla lead it was a terrific idea.”
“Thanks. I thought having someone younger would encourage the teens not only to participate in the group, but also to express themselves more freely.”
“That makes sense.” Skye sneaked a peek at her watch. She really needed to get to work. At this rate, she’d be up until midnight doing paperwork, trying to make up the time she’d already lost this morning. “Did a lot of kids sign up for the club?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’d say yes. We have twelve on the list and sold nearly twenty copies of the book, so more may show up.”
“That’s great.” Skye beamed. She’d been correct in thinking the bookstore would promote reading among the teenagers. “Will you be leading the discussion since Kayla is, ah . . . not available?”
“That’s my problem.” Risé’s shoulders drooped. “Not only haven’t I read the book, but I don’t have any relationship with the kids.”
“But—”
Risé cut Skye off. “If they don’t enjoy themselves this first time, they won’t come back.” She straightened. “My husband and I have put all our money into this business. We need the teens’ support.”
“That’s true.” Skye knew Risé was right. Teens could be unforgiving if they were disappointed. “But what do you think I can do?”
“You can lead the group.” Risé held up a hand to stop Skye’s protest. “My new employee tells me that the kids all like you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Skye’s cheeks turned pink. She didn’t handle compliments well. Changing the subject, she asked, “Who have you hired to repla
ce Kayla?”
“Xenia Craughwell.”
“Really?” Skye was shocked. Xenia didn’t need the money, and it was hard to imagine the girl in a position where she would have to be pleasant to people. “How did you find someone so quickly?”
“She came to me yesterday and filled out an application. She passed my little reading and math test with flying colors and really seems to love books.” Risé looked at Skye with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?
“Uh . . .” Skye thought fast, not wanting to give her real reasons. “She just never mentioned that she was looking for a job.”
“Oh.” Risé seemed satisfied. “So, will you take over the teen club?”
Skye wavered. “I’d really like to help you out, but my plate is pretty full right now.” She hated to see the teen book club die out before it even got started. “Isn’t there someone else you could ask?”
“Not at this late date.” Risé shook her head. “The group meets Thursday night.”
“Well . . .”
“Last Saturday, at our grand opening, you mentioned you had read If I Have a Wicked Stepmother, Where’s My Prince?, which is our selection.”
“True,” Skye admitted. “But . . .”
“You’d be perfect.” Risé’s tone was cajoling.
“I don’t know.” Skye tried to avoid looking into the woman’s desperate eyes.
“Maybe your friend, the school librarian, would co-lead with you,” Risé coaxed. “She seemed really excited that Scumble River finally had a bookstore.”
“Okay,” Skye gave in. “But you need to find someone else for next month. I already have two jobs, not to mention a fiancé and my family to deal with, so I can’t take this on permanently.”
“That’s all I ask. Next month Xenia can take over. We couldn’t afford to pay someone on a permanent basis, but”—Risé pulled a checkbook from her open purse—“name your fee.”
“A white chocolate mocha latte and some of Orlando’s amazing shortbread.” Skye smiled. “I know Trixie will work for treats, too.”
“We’ll supply you both for a year.” Risé got up. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“How’s Orlando doing?” Skye wondered whether his falling off the wagon had started him on a downward spiral.
“He’s working on remaining sober.” Risé’s face was hard to read. “He says he wants to win back my trust, but we’ll see.” She opened the door. “We’re having one of his favorite authors for a book signing on Saturday, and that’s helping him stay positive. I just hope we get a decent turnout.”
“A book signing?” Skye clapped her hands. “How exciting. I’ll definitely be there.”
“Good.” Risé smiled wryly. “Bring a lot of your friends.”
Skye accompanied Risé to the school’s front door. As she watched her walk into the parking lot, she thought how similar to Risé Kayla had looked from the back. Which one had really been the intended victim? The young girl whom no one had any apparent reason to kill, or the woman with a lot of enemies?
CHAPTER 15
Pride and Prejudice
By five o’clock, Skye had secured Trixie as a coleader for the book club, had attended two Pupil Personnel Services meetings, and was eager to get off work to go talk to Wally. Her mind had raced the entire day with all the information she’d gathered, and the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the murderer had meant to kill Risé.
Unfortunately, tonight was the night of Wally’s monthly dinner meeting with all the police chiefs in Stanley County. Along with the sheriff, they got together at Harry’s restaurant to share intel. And since Skye had worked so late, she had only a half hour to discuss the case with him before he needed to leave for Laurel. But first she had to find him.
As she hurried toward the parking lot, Skye dug her cell phone from the bottom of her tote, powered it on, and dialed his private line at the police station. After four rings, it went to voice mail and she disconnected. Her next try was his cell, which also went to voice mail, and then his home phone, where the answering machine picked up.
Sheesh! Had he left for the county seat early? Unlocking her car, Skye blew out an exasperated sigh. She had no choice. Although she’d been avoiding her mother all day, she’d have to phone the PD’s nonemergency line, even if May was the dispatcher on duty that night.
Skye held her breath as the call was answered, “Scumble River Police, Fire, and Emergency.”
Hot damn! She had lucked out. “Zelda?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Skye.” She threw her tote bag onto the passenger seat, slid behind the wheel, and put the key in the ignition. “Is the chief around?”
“Sorry. You just missed him.” Zelda Martinez’s low, sultry voice thrummed through the line, and Skye wondered briefly what effect Scumble River’s only female officer was having on the rest of the force.
“Did he head over to Laurel already?” Skye buckled her seat belt and turned the ignition key.
“Hold on a second and I’ll check.” There was a short pause; then Zelda said, “According to the board, he’s going home first.”
“Okay.” Skye backed the Bel Air out of its parking spot and headed toward Wally’s house. “Thanks.”
A few minutes later Skye turned into the driveway of the four-room bungalow that Wally owned. It was hard to believe that the son of a Texas oil tycoon lived so modestly, but she certainly understood why he didn’t want anyone else in Scumble River to know about his affluent background. She’d been relieved Monday night when he’d told her that he didn’t have a trust fund or expect to be his father’s heir, but others might not feel the same way.
Skye knocked, then let herself in the back door. Hearing water running, she was glad she and Wally had exchanged keys when they got engaged. Otherwise, she’d be stuck on his doorstep until he got out of the shower.
Passing through the enclosed back porch that had been turned into a laundry room, she noticed a folding rack hung with freshly pressed navy uniform shirts, no doubt ironed by Wally’s part-time housekeeper, Dorothy Snyder. As Skye crossed the kitchen, she wondered whether Dorothy would continue to work for them once they were married. And if she did, would it be awkward, since she was one of May’s best friends?
When she entered the bedroom, Skye was tempted to arrange herself across Wally’s king-size mattress and surprise him when he got out of the shower. Reluctantly, she discarded the idea, realizing that with so little time before he had to leave for his meeting, it would be best to greet him upright and fully clothed.
Curling up in a leather club chair in the corner, she waited for him to emerge from the adjoining bathroom. Wally strolled out a few minutes later, still dripping and drying his back with a cocoa brown towel. It took him a second or so to spot Skye, but when he did, a slow grin spread across his handsome face.
Skye smiled back, her gaze traveling from his long, sinewy legs, to his slim hips, up to the molded bronze muscles of his chest and shoulders, and coming to rest on his depthless, dark brown eyes.
“Darlin’, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Wally ambled over to her, took her hands, and drew her to her feet. “I wish all surprises were this good.”
Skye wound her arms around his neck and gave him a light kiss. “You sweet-talker.”
He pressed her body tightly to his. “Just the facts, ma’am.”
She felt a lurch of excitement and had to fight the desire to run her fingers down his naked body. “I wanted to catch you before you left for your dinner to talk to you about what I heard today.”
His lips teased her earlobe, and he whispered, “Can it wait?”
A delicious shudder ran through her body, but she gathered her self-control. “Probably not.”
His breath warmed her throat. “Are you sure?”
Her resolve started to melt, and she forced herself to step away from him. “Yes.”
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face; then he turned to
ward his dresser, slid open the top drawer, and said over his shoulder, “What’s up?”
As he put on underwear and socks, she told him what Neva had said to her, and Skye’s own thoughts as she watched Risé walk away, finishing with, “And I really think that not only was the murder the primary intention, as we discussed last night, but that Risé was the intended victim.”
Wally zipped up a pair of black jeans and threaded a belt through the loops. “Just because Kayla’s godmother says everyone loved her doesn’t make it true.”
“I know that, but during my lunch break today I checked her school records. She was a good student, participated in activities, and never got so much as a detention for chewing gum.”
“Still, you said there was a problem with her parents.” He looked unconvinced as he pulled a silver-gray turtleneck over his head. “What was your impression of their reaction Sunday when we notified them of Kayla’s death?”
“Well. They both appeared genuinely shocked, and the mom was certainly devastated.” Skye nibbled her thumbnail. “But the stepdad seemed like he couldn’t wait to get rid of us.” She tilted her head. “What did you think?”
“The same.”
“So unless Neva’s description is absolutely the opposite of the situation, Kayla’s parents were totally uninvolved with her life, which would mean no reason to kill her. Besides, she and her boyfriend were getting married in a month. She’d be completely out of their hair after that, so why murder her?”
“You have a point.” Wally grabbed a black tweed blazer from his closet. “I’m still not clear on the logistics.” He stuffed his wallet into his pants pocket and grabbed his keys. “Wouldn’t whoever murdered Kayla have noticed it was her and not Risé?”
“This is what I think happened.” Skye clipped Wally’s cell to his belt for him as she explained, “I think when the murderer arrived, Kayla had her back to the entrance. Maybe she was reaching to put away a book on a high shelf.”
“Wouldn’t she have heard the bells over the door jingle when it was opened?”
“Yes, but she probably said something like, ‘Be right there.’ Or ‘Sorry. We’re closed,’ and didn’t turn around.” Skye paused to gather her thoughts, then continued, “So the killer walks up to her and whacks her on the back of the head, thinking she’s Risé.”
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