“Tell Homer immediately.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Well, I can.” Skye marched toward the office, trailed by the secretary.
Wally, Officer Quirk, and two other Scumble River policemen were standing in the main office. Skye walked past them, ignoring their words, and knocked on Homer’s door. No answer. She knocked again and leaned her head against the wood. Not a sound. She tried the door. It opened easily, but no one was in the room.
Skye turned to Wally. “Did you see Homer leave this office?”
The chief shook his head. “No, but we don’t need him. Just give us the class lists, and we’ll pull the students we need to talk to.”
Skye ignored Wally and tried Opal. “Was Homer in his office when the police arrived and you left to get me?”
The secretary nodded.
“How the heck did he get out?” Skye scanned the inside of Homer’s office, and walked over to the closed drapes. Come to think of it, she had never seen them open. She stuck her hand underneath the fabric and fished for the cord. Nabbing it, she yanked. The curtains swished back to reveal not the window Skye was expecting, but a door designed to look like a window from the outside of the building.
Opal murmured, “I guess they went to lunch.”
“At ten-thirty?”
The other woman shrugged.
Skye turned to Wally. “You’ll have to wait for them to get back. Opal and I don’t have the authority to let you have the list or interview students.”
Wally’s face was rigid. “We don’t need your permission.”
Skye didn’t know what the law said, but she knew what parent reaction would be if they allowed Wally free rein. “Sorry, but if you insist, we’ll advise students not to talk to you until we can reach their parents.”
“You’re out of line.” Wally sighed. “I understand you want to protect your kids, but the longer we wait, the colder the trail gets.”
What he had just said finally sank through to Skye. “Are you saying she was murdered?”
Skye screamed. It felt good, so she did it again. One more time, she decided, and then she could face returning to the chaos inside the high school. She had borrowed Trixie’s car keys and locked herself in the Mustang in order to blow off some steam and refrain from hitting someone.
The question wasn’t whom to smack, but whom to smack first? The coach/guidance counselor, who hated sharing a room with Skye and kept trying to sneak into the guidance office and force Skye out? The insufferable coordinator from the co-op, who had finally dropped by but still refused to interact with any of the students, and instead had locked himself in with Homer, then had had the nerve to go out to lunch? Or Wally, who continued to try to freeze Skye with his indifference every time they were in the same room together?
Reluctantly, Skye emerged from the small car. The dark interior had been soothing, almost like being inside a mug of hot cocoa. Too bad a cup of Swiss Miss wasn’t inside of her; she could use a shot of chocolate comfort right now. As she entered the school, she could hear sounds of male bonding—guffaws, chuckles, and snickers—coming from behind the principal’s closed door. She looked at her watch—nearly noon. Obviously the co-op coordinator and Homer had returned from their early luncheon.
All the buttons on the telephone were lit, and as fast as Opal answered one, another line would light up. Her part of the conversations consisted of, “Sorry, we can’t give out that information.” Then she paused as the person on the other end yelled at her. She finished with, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not allowed to say.”
The secretary’s sparse mouse-colored hair stood on end, and her watery brown eyes were red-rimmed from the tears she kept dabbing away with a shredded tissue. Obviously the woman was overwhelmed by the volume and vituperativeness of the calls.
Skye stared at Homer’s closed door. Opal was nearing a breakdown, and the principal needed to do something about it. A sudden wave of male laughter helped Skye make up her mind. With some principals she used reason to achieve what she wanted. With others she used diplomacy. Homer reacted only to frontal attacks.
She knocked sharply on the door and entered without waiting for permission. “Homer, the phones are ringing off the wall. Opal needs someone to help her with all the calls.”
The jovial expression on the principal’s face changed to one of annoyance. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve confiscated all my personnel.”
Skye counted to ten and reminded herself of Homer’s age and position before she replied. “Two, I’m only using two of your people.”
“Sure, but how about all the teachers who are too upset to teach their classes?” Homer’s tone was sarcastic.
“I did suggest hiring some floating subs for today,” she reminded him, keeping hold of her temper with great difficulty.
“It’s not in the budget.” Homer sat back in his chair and shook the hair out of his eyes. “Did you know the co-op is going to charge us for the people they sent over? You didn’t have authorization to request help. We may have to take that from your salary.”
Skye opened her mouth and closed it without speaking. She glanced at the silent coordinator. She could swear he had a smirk on his face. Between gritted teeth she muttered, “Fine. Now, about some help for Opal . . .”
Homer sighed. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Coach,” Skye answered. “It’s his guidance counselor day, and since he has refused to do any crisis counseling, and the guidance office is occupied, he’s just sitting around in the teachers’ lounge stirring up the faculty.”
“He won’t like this,” Homer said.
“Really? And I’m having such a good time today myself.” Skye knew she shouldn’t be so sarcastic, but it had just slipped out, and she couldn’t back down now.
“Okay, Coach can answer phones.” Homer leaned back in his chair. “You stop and tell him on your way back to the guidance office.”
“I think it would be better coming from you.” Skye pushed the phone toward Homer. “For some reason, Coach thinks I’m out to get him.”
As Homer dialed and spoke, Skye smiled. She loved a twofer—help for Opal and a way to keep Coach out of the guidance office.
After the principal got off the phone, Skye said, “Did you know that the police were here and tried to question the students?”
“No, that must have been when we were . . . ah . . . at that special meeting we had to attend.”
“Right.” Was that the one Ronald McDonald chaired? Skye tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Anyway, what will we do when they come back?”
“I’ll check with the school lawyer and see.” Homer reached for the phone he had just pushed aside. He spoke for a while, and after he hung up, he said, “Nope, Bob says not to let the police question the students. The law is unclear, but we could be in trouble if the parents could prove we were negligent in protecting their child’s rights. Either school personnel or a parent must be with the child when he or she is interviewed.”
“Better let people know because Wally will no doubt return any minute.” Skye waved and backed out of the door. Without warning, she felt icy fingers grab her arm. She yelped and spun around.
Kent Walker’s pale blue eyes stared into hers.
“Oh my gosh, Kent, you scared me to death.” She shook off his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you aware that the police chief is interrogating some of the students right here in school? I tried to sit in with the kids as he questioned them, but one of his storm troopers threw me out.”
One thing she had liked about Kent was his high level of involvement with the students. So why didn’t what he had just said sound right? She didn’t have time to think about it now. “Show me where they are.”
Kent guided her down the hall to the Home Ec room. The space was divided into two. The half nearest the door was filled with sewing machines, several teens, all of whom avoided looking at each other, and the police officers who w
ere guarding them.
The other half of the room was set up as the cooking area, and Wally had confiscated this section for his interviews. The heavy stoves and refrigerators that formed a wall between the two areas filtered out most of the conversation.
Skye marched through the sewing area before the police could stop her. The officers were quicker where Kent was concerned, and nabbed him as he tried to follow her into the interrogation section.
As he was escorted away, he yelled, “Tell the kids they don’t have to say anything.”
She yelled back, “I’ll take care of the students; you tell Homer to start calling their parents.”
Wally was speaking as she entered the kitchen. “We’re just trying to figure out what happened to your friend. There’s no need to be afraid.” He leaned casually against the counter.
The blonde sitting at the aqua Formica kitchen table did not look frightened. The girl’s cold blue eyes sparkled with disdain as she turned them toward Skye. “You’re that shrink that talked to us this morning.”
Skye nodded. “I’m Ms. Denison, the school psychologist. And you’re Zoë VanHorn, Lorelei’s best friend.”
“Right on the first try.” Zoë examined her long purple nails. “I don’t have to talk to the cops, correct?”
Before Skye could answer, Wally moved from the counter to her side and ordered in a low voice, “Get out.”
“No.” Skye wrinkled her brow. Darn, this whole business was so much harder with Wally still mad at her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had betrayed his trust by investigating alone last summer, but she had apologized repeatedly. What more could she do to make things right between them? She had never dreamed he would be this hurt.
Wally took her arm and tried to lead her away.
She refused to budge. “Have you called Zoë’s parents?”
Wally released his grip. “Get out, or I’ll have you removed by force.”
“A school representative must be present if a minor is to be interrogated without a parent in attendance.”
“That’s not the law.”
“No? Well, it’s in the school handbook, which I’m obligated to follow, and the school attorney has advised us to handle things this way.” Good thing she had actually read the manual when she was first hired.
“Tough. Get out.” Wally turned his back on her.
Zoë waved her hand. “I want her to stay.”
“No.” Wally’s face was beginning to turn red.
The teen shrugged. “Then I want a lawyer.”
Wally’s face went from cherry to maroon. “Have a seat, Ms. Denison.”
“Thank you, Chief Boyd.” Skye settled herself in a chrome kitchen chair and studied Wally. Once his face had returned to its natural tan hue, he was a handsome man. He had recently turned forty, but except for a few gray threads in his curly black hair, and a couple of lines radiating from his brown eyes, there were few signs of his age.
Skye shook her head. She had been half in love with him since she was fifteen. When she first met him he was fresh out of the police academy. Everyone liked him, especially the teens. He was fair and honest with them. She had developed a huge crush on the young officer, and he had handled it kindly without ever embarrassing her or taking advantage of the situation.
In the ensuing years she had moved away, he had gotten married, she had moved back, and they had become friends. But last summer she had destroyed that friendship by going behind his back. That betrayal, and his wife’s leaving him for another man, had changed Wally. Skye kept hoping it was a temporary situation and that he would return to his old self, given enough time.
Skye suddenly noticed that both the chief and the teen were staring at her, waiting for her to speak. “So, what were you and Zoë discussing?”
“I had asked Zoë to tell me a little about Lorelei’s movements yesterday.”
The girl ran her fingers through her short curls and wet her already-glossy lips. “Let’s see. It was pretty much same old, same old.”
Wally drew up a chair and sat opposite the females. “Start at the beginning. When was the first time you saw Lorelei yesterday?”
“I picked her up at her house around seven, and we buzzed the gut for a half hour or so.”
Wally and Skye’s eyes met. “Buzzing the gut” was what the teens called driving down Basin Street, Scumble River’s main drag, and circling back by cutting through the McDonald’s parking lot on one end and Mayor Clapp’s used-car lot on the other. It was also called “shooting the loop,” and it was technically illegal, although that law was not often enforced.
Skye spoke, earning a glare from Wally. “What did you girls talk about?”
“Stuff.” Her bony shoulders under a tight-ribbed sweater moved up and down. “You know, whose clothes are so ‘last year,’ who’s a trendoid wannabe, who was slipping who the tongue at the party last night.”
“Did you pick up anyone else?”
“Well, no, I drive a Miata.” Zoë looked at the adults, who appeared clueless. “No backseat.”
“Nice wheels,” Skye murmured. It was pretty pathetic that a teenager owned the car that she could only dream of buying. It was clear that Skye had taken a wrong turn somewhere on life’s highway.
“Yeah, right.” Wally tried to regain control of the interview. “So you arrived at school at approximately seven-thirty, but classes don’t start until eight.”
“We had a cheerleader meeting.” Zoë bent down and adjusted the ankle strap on her black sandals.
“Who was there?” Wally asked, taking out his notebook.
Skye itched to do the same.
“Mrs. Frayne, me, Lorelei, Caresse, and Farrah. Tara was on vacation, and we’re down a girl since DiDi moved away. That’s what the meeting was about. Picking a new Black Widow.”
“What the he—ck is a Black Widow?” Wally asked.
Zoë rolled her eyes. “The name of the cheerleading squad, of course. The baseball and football teams are the Scorpions, so we’re the Black Widows. Get it?”
The chief nodded wearily. “What are the other girls’ last names?”
“Farrah Miles and Caresse Wren.”
“Next, you went to your first-period class, right?”
The teen nodded. “We have all our classes together.”
“Lorelei wasn’t out of your sight all day?” The chief frowned.
“Well, except for seventh and eighth hour.”
“What happened during those periods?”
“Since there was no PE, and Lorelei and Chase had back-to-back study hall, Mr. Walker called a rehearsal for Sleeping Beauty.” Zoë pulled a mirror out of her purse.
“You aren’t in the play?” Skye’s question earned her another scowl from the chief.
“Of course I am.” A tiny line appeared between the teen’s perfect eyebrows. “But Lorelei and Chase were the leads.”
“What is Chase’s last name?” Wally slid back his chair.
“Wren. He’s Caresse’s twin.” Zoë spread another coat of scarlet gloss on her lips.
Wally looked at Skye. “Ms. Denison, is Mr. Walker the disappearing teacher you dragged me over to meet yesterday?”
“Yes.” Skye thought a moment. There was someone missing. “How about Troy Yates? I thought he was her boyfriend. Wasn’t she with him at all yesterday?”
Zoë shrugged. “Probably. Who knows?”
The chief nodded thoughtfully as the three sat in silence.
Finally, Zoë asked, “Is everything Crystal Light-clear now?”
Wally didn’t look up from his notebook. “Clear as mud.”
CHAPTER 5
Mind Your Ps and Clues
After Zoë left, Wally said to Skye, “She didn’t seem overly grief-stricken, did she?” “One of the first stages of grief is denial. Maybe it hasn’t hit her yet. So many adolescents have no concept of mortality.” Skye felt she had to support the girl, but in her heart she agreed with the chief. Zoë had not come across as sad.
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“That girl’s period of mourning is about as short as her skirt.”
Skye didn’t want to argue, so instead she changed the subject. “Have you talked to Elvira Doozier yet?”
“She’s not at school today. I sent someone out to her house.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
“The Dooziers just don’t like talking to the police.”
“Too bad she’s not here today. I’d like to be with her when you question her.”
Wally slumped in his chair. “I suppose you plan on sitting here for all the interviews?”
“Until their parents arrive.”
“You called the parents? That was a mistake.”
“I told you if you tried to see the kids alone, we had to contact the parents.”
Wally shook his head. Before he could speak, the PA system crackled. “Ms. Denison, line one.”
Now what? Skye shot out of her seat and hurried toward the office. They would never page her for a phone call if it weren’t extremely urgent. Most of the time, she was lucky to get a message slip stuck in her mailbox.
She rounded the corner and grabbed the receiver. “Skye Denison, may I help you?”
“Skye, it’s Caroline Greer. Thank goodness I found you. We need you right away.”
“What’s up?” Skye couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard the elementary-school principal so shaken up. Caroline Greer was famous for her calm demeanor.
“Linette Ingels.”
Shit! Skye had forgotten that Lorelei had a sister. She should have had a crisis team at the elementary school, too. “She’s not at school, is she?”
“No, but she was on the phone last night with her friends. They’re all upset, and the hysteria is spreading through the school faster than lice.” Caroline’s tone showed her strain. “How soon can you get here?”
Caroline was a great principal. If she said she needed help, things must be really bad. Skye looked at the clock. It was a little past twelve-thirty. The kids must have just gotten in from lunch recess. “I’ll be right over. Just let me tie up some loose ends.” Skye could hear excited voices in the background.
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty Page 5