Skye flinched. She felt a little nauseous, as if she were burning ants with a magnifying glass. But they had no other leads, and it wouldn’t be fair to Kayla if her murder went unsolved.
Unable to meet his eyes, she glanced into the SUV’s window. What was that in the backseat? She tilted her head. It was a half-folded, superelaborate, heavy-duty baby stroller with a cracked blue plastic footrest. Various facts zipped through her mind in a matter of seconds.
Holy moly! The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Earlier, when Xenia had mentioned that she thought Kayla had changed her mind about marrying Chase, Skye remembered that at the Dairy Kastle Kayla had said she hadn’t been hungry the past week or so and that food wasn’t appealing to her. Kayla hadn’t been dieting. She’d been pregnant.
Chase followed her gaze, and his mouth tightened.
Oops! “Well, thanks for clearing that up.” Time to get Xenia and herself a safe distance away and let Wally bring Chase in for a formal interrogation. Meanwhile, one of his officers could obtain a search warrant and see whether the plastic of the broken stroller matched the pieces found in Kayla’s hair.
“I’ll let you get back to your game.” Skye took a step away. “Looks like your team is about to take the field.” She gestured with her thumb to the men in the dugout rising from the bench.
“You know, don’t you?” Chase’s demeanor changed from sorrow to rage, and he lunged at Skye. “You figured it out!”
Skye stumbled back, but Chase grabbed her wrist in a viselike hold. “Let go of me this instant,” she ordered in her firmest teacher voice.
“It’s women like you who ruin everything.” Anger seemed to ooze from Chase like pus from a popped pimple.
He jerked Skye toward him, but Xenia launched herself at him, landing on his back and wrapping her hands around his throat, screaming, “Leave her alone!”
Chase’s gasp was an inverted howl; then all three toppled to the ground with Skye on the bottom of the pile. She pushed, but the combined weight of Xenia and Chase on her chest was too much. She couldn’t get free.
Just as she was feeling woozy from lack of oxygen and starting to panic, Chase was plucked off her. Wally pinned him to the ground and handcuffed him while reading him his rights.
Xenia hopped around, pumping her fisted hands in the air and shouting obscenities. Skye wasn’t sure whether Xenia was aiming the profanities at Chase for killing her friend, or at Wally for stopping her from beating the crap out of Chase. Probably both.
Skye tried to drop Xenia off at McDonald’s before going to the PD, but once again the girl refused to budge. However, even Xenia wasn’t able to get past Sergeant Quirk when they arrived at the station.
He blocked Xenia’s attempt to get through the door, while ushering Skye in, saying, “The chief is waiting for you in the interrogation room.”
Chase sat slumped in a chair with his hands cuffed to the leg of the bolted-down table. He looked up as Skye took a seat, and whined, “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Sounds like she made you.” Skye looked at Wally, who was leaning against the wall behind Chase, and he gestured for her to go on. “Everything was perfect until her film got that award.”
“That’s right.” Chase nodded eagerly.
“Because when she won, she decided to leave you.”
“Yes.” Chase gazed zealously at Skye. “But then she found out she was pregnant. She wasn’t able to take the Pill, and for the past few months, I’d been poking holes in the condoms I used.”
“You figured if she had a baby, she’d have to stay with you and could never change her mind?”
“Yes, and it worked.” Chase beamed. “She was giving up her silly idea to make it big in movies.”
“So what happened?”
“Saturday, after closing time, I went to the bookstore to show her the cool stroller I’d bought. It cost almost five hundred dollars and even had cup holders.” Chase frowned, then looked confused. “But she started crying and told me she’d lost the baby and she wasn’t marrying me and she was leaving for Hollywood as soon as she finished school.”
“That must have been hard to hear.” Skye hoped she wouldn’t gag on the words she was forcing out of her mouth. “So, you just had to do something to stop her from going.”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “I told her I still loved her, even if she killed our baby, and we could have other kids. And you know what she said to me?”
Skye shook her head.
“She said that while she would always love me, she wasn’t in love with me, and she needed her freedom.” Chase slumped. “What in the hell was that supposed to mean?”
Skye shrugged. He was on a roll, and she didn’t want to interrupt him by speaking.
“She kissed me on the cheek, and I grabbed her. I begged her not to go away, but she told me to leave her alone and started to walk away.” Chase was silent, tears dripping off his chin.
“Then what happened?”
“I was so mad. I was still holding the stroller, and I just swung it at her. She stumbled and turned to look at me, then keeled over.” He sobbed, “It was an accident.”
An accident? Please. “But you pushed the bookcase on top of her.” The words slipped out before Skye could stop them. And judging from the expression on Chase’s face, they were a mistake.
“You bitch!” He lurched toward her, but the handcuffs pulled him up short.
Skye stood up and backed away.
“Calm down, man.” Wally stepped between her and the table, blocking her from Chase’s sight. “Women always stick together. I understand. Just tell me what happened after you hit Kayla with the stroller.”
“I couldn’t stand to see her like that.” Chase heaved a sigh. “All bloody and everything. So I just sort of covered her up.”
“With the cabinet?” Wally confirmed.
“Yeah. There was nothing else around.” Chase hung his head. “I loved her. I really loved her. How could she do that to me?”
“You’re pathetic. You killed Kayla, ended the life of someone worth a thousand of you, and you think you’re the victim.” Skye dodged around Wally, put both hands on the table, and looked Chase in the eye. “That’s not love. That’s evil. Pure evil.”
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EPILOGUE
Wind in the Willows
“I’m so glad you were able to come with me.” Skye leaned her head against the seat of the Thunderbird as Wally drove them from the police station to Tales and Treats, where Skye’s family was gathering per Vince’s instructions. “I was afraid you’d be tied up all night processing Chase.”
“There isn’t much more for me to do until the Stanley County state’s attorney gets back tomorrow from his vacation.” Wally pulled out of the PD’s parking lot. “The ME confirmed Kayla had a recent miscarriage, the crime techs are matching the stroller to the blue plastic pieces found in her hair, and Xenia provided us with the voice mail proving he lied about what time he started calling her, so we have physical evidence.”
“Not to mention the confession.” Skye was proud of how she had maneuvered Chase into admitting his crime. “It’s hard to believe he watched the store all night so he could pretend to arrive and act surprised when Kayla’s body was discovered.”
“Yep. One minute he’s crying and moaning about losing the love of his life and the next he’s planning his alibi.” Wally parked the car a block away. “Good thing this was such a good bust, because he’ll definitely try and play on the jury’s sympathy.”
“Is Quirk bringing Chase to the county jail?”
“As we speak.” Wally opened Skye’s door. “Except for testifying at the trial, my part is pretty much done.”
“Thank goodness for small favors.” Skye snuggled up to him. “I wish I knew what Vince is up to. I have a feeling whatever it is, he’ll end up smelling like a rose and I’ll be the one shoveling the fertilizer.”
“No doubt.” Wally squeezed Skye�
�s hand. “But it will be good practice for you. You said you’re trying to stand up to your mom more.”
“True.” Skye gestured to the parked vehicles. “I see Hugo still hasn’t moved his inventory.”
“No.” Wally grinned. “But did you notice what’s on the windshields?”
Skye squinted, then snickered when she saw the telltale neon yellow rectangles tucked under the wiper blades. “Uncle Dante will have a fit when Hugo comes crying to him about all these parking tickets.”
“Maybe.” Wally paused at the bookstore’s entrance, allowing Skye to go in first. “But I pointed out to the mayor that if he wants to encourage new businesses in Scumble River, the town has to have a reputation for cooperating with them and making sure their needs are met.”
“I hope you’re right.” Skye couldn’t see her uncle taking sides against his only son.
As soon as they walked into the store, Risé rushed up to them and hugged Skye. “Thank you for calling this afternoon to let me know that Kayla’s killer is under arrest.”
“You’re welcome.” Skye patted the older woman’s shoulder. “I phoned as soon as Wally gave me the go-ahead. I wanted you to know you were safe.”
“It was a relief to hear that no one is gunning for me,” Risé admitted. “It’s such a shame that Kayla’s young man thought he could change her into what he wanted, instead of loving her for who she was.”
“Yes, it is,” Skye said. “What he didn’t realize is that any relationship is under the control of the person who cares the least, not the most.”
Wally arched a brow at Skye, then said, “It’s ten after six. We’d better find out what Vince has up his sleeve before your folks get here.”
The first thing Skye saw as she walked through the café’s door was a small wedding cake. Next to it was an envelope with her name scrawled in Vince’s distinctive half-printing, half-cursive handwriting. She hurried over, snatched the long white rectangle from the table, and tore it open.Sis,Sorry to do this to you, but it was the only way. Loretta and I eloped last Monday—we’ve been in Las Vegas this past week on our honeymoon. I needed to keep you in the dark so you could be the red herring for Mom. Remember our agreement. When she and Dad get here, you need to break the news to them. We’ll be here at six forty-five, so make it quick.Love,V
Skye handed the paper to Wally, who turned pale. “Maybe I am needed at the station after all.”
“No way.” Skye grabbed his arm. “You want me for better or worse, remember?”
Before Wally could respond, Skye’s parents arrived. As usual, May was in the lead, with Jed trailing a few steps behind her.
May stopped, stared at the wedding cake, then at Skye and Wally, and screamed, “No!” Sinking into the nearest chair, she moaned, “Tell me you didn’t elope!”
“Not me, Mom.” Skye hadn’t realized her mother might think she was the bride.
“Then what is that all about?” May demanded. “You scared ten years off my life.”
“Maybe you should have a drink first.” Skye walked toward the bottle of champagne that was chilling in a silver bucket.
“For heaven’s sake, just tell me.” May threw up her hands in exasperation.
Skye moved a couple steps farther from her mother, then said, “Vince and Loretta got married last Monday in Las Vegas.”
May howled, “My baby!” She popped up from her seat and threw herself against her husband’s chest. “My baby boy got married without me.”
Jed awkwardly patted his wife’s shoulder, and said, “No importance.”
May stiffened, drew back, and slapped him. “It is too important, Jed Denison!” May sobbed.
Skye gasped. She had never once seen either parent lift a hand to the other. Before Skye could process what she had witnessed, the café door opened and Vince and Loretta burst into the room. May’s tears disappeared faster than an ice cube in a deep fryer, and she flung herself into her son’s arms.
Vince drew Loretta into the circle, and the three of them spoke in low tones for several minutes. Skye heard the words “grandchildren” and “house in Scumble River,” then saw May embrace Loretta and smile.
Since all seemed forgiven, Skye popped the cork on the champagne and started pouring. After they toasted the new couple’s happiness, everyone hugged, and Vince and Loretta cut the cake while Wally took pictures using his cell phone.
Once they were all settled around a table to eat, Skye asked, “Vince, why did you have us meet at Tales and Treats? A bookstore isn’t your usual style.”
“Exactly.” Vince grinned. “I knew it would throw Mom off the trail.” May whapped him on the arm, and he continued, “Besides, when Orlando came into the shop a couple of weeks ago for a haircut, he told me all about his baking, so when we decided to do this, I called him to see if he’d let me have a private function at the café after closing time.”
“Why didn’t you ask Maggie to do the cake?” May frowned. Maggie was one of her best friends and the cake maker for Scumble River special occasions.
“Because she would have told you.” Vince laughed. “Same reason we didn’t have this shindig at the Feed Bag. Tomi would have spilled the beans, too.”
“Yeah.” May’s chest puffed out. “I guess I do cast a pretty wide net.”
“Have you told your folks yet, Loretta?” Skye asked.
“No.” The bride’s expression was hard to read. “We’re driving into the city later tonight to share our news with them.”
They chatted for a half hour or so; then Vince said, “We’ve got to get going. We told Loretta’s family we’d be there at nine, and even if traffic isn’t bad, it’ll take us at least ninety minutes.”
They all followed the newlyweds out of the café, and once Skye and Wally were in his car, he suggested to her, “How about stopping at the Brown Bag for a drink? I hear they have a good fifties band playing tonight.”
“Sure.” Skye shook her head. “I could use something stronger than that champagne.”
The Brown Bag, one of Scumble River’s nicer bars, was packed. There were no free tables and only one spot at the bar. Skye took the open stool, and Wally stood behind her. While they waited for the bartender to notice them, she looked around.
Ay-yi-yi! Sitting a couple places down, with a row of martini glasses lined up in front of him, was Simon. Skye was startled. What was he doing there, and why was he getting wasted? That wasn’t like him at all.
Just as she was considering telling Wally she had a headache and wanted to leave, Simon saw them.
He rose unsteadily and staggered toward them. “Well, if it isn’t Dudley Do-Right.”
“Reid.” Wally’s expression was glacial.
“I hope you’re happy.” Simon poked Wally in the chest. “Xavier quit.”
Skye bit her lip. That wasn’t good. Xavier needed a steady income. On the other hand, burying the dead was a recession-proof industry, and he’d have no problem finding a job at any of the neighboring funeral homes.
Simon interrupted her thoughts by adding, “He said he couldn’t face me every day after lying to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wally’s tone was neutral. “Maybe once things settle down, you can change his mind.”
“Like you give a shit,” Simon said in a harsh, raw voice. “You want to see me lose everyone I care about.”
Wally’s jaw tightened. “I couldn’t care less one way or the other.”
“I’m not giving up on Skye.” Simon straightened and seemed to sober up all of a sudden. “I hear you’re having trouble getting your annulment, Boyd.” His smile was predatory. “Just remember, it isn’t over until the fat lady sings.”
“If that’s the case, Reid”—Wally arched a brow—“she’s clearing her throat right now, because I’ve located Darleen.”
When Scumble River is struck with
honky-tonk fever, Skye Denison
wonders if the whole town
will go up in flames.
Re
ad on for a sneak preview of the next
Scumble River Mystery,MURDER OF A CREPED SUZETTEComing from Obsidian in
October 2011.
Skye Denison had to admit that Flint James was hot. Neither the engagement ring on her finger nor her utter aversion to sports of any kind altered the fact that the pro quarterback turned country singer looked like a Greek statue—if statues wore cowboy hats, had smoky whiskey-colored eyes, and sported really good tans.
Flint leaned on the side railing of Scumble River Park’s newly constructed grandstand, gazing at the early evening sky. The rising star appeared unconcerned about whatever was transpiring at the back of the stage, where a cluster of guys in jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps surrounded a man in an expensive Western-style suit.
To Skye, the group of men looked like the featured rodents in a whack-a-mole game—first one head would pop up, scan the audience, and duck back down, then another and another, before starting the process all over again. It was obvious that something was wrong, but what? While the others appeared merely irritated, Mr. Suit looked apoplectic.
According to the liberally distributed flyers, the program was supposed to start at six thirty. It was already a quarter to seven, and although the pack was ablaze with lights, and there were amplifiers scattered around the stage’s perimeter, nothing was happening.
Perhaps the out-of-towners didn’t understand how much the good citizens of Scumble River valued punctuality, but Skye knew if something didn’t happen soon, people would begin to leave. Small-town Illinoisans considered fifteen minutes early as on time, the stated hour as barely acceptable, and anything afterward as intolerably late.
The only thing that might persuade everyone to hang around was the complimentary refreshments. An open bar tended to keep most Scumble Riverites happy for quite a while.
Skye fanned herself with the old grocery list she had found in the pocket of her khaki capris and watched for Wally Boyd. Wally was her fiancé, but tonight he was on duty as the chief of police.
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