Murder of a Sleeping Beauty
Page 22
A knock on her door startled her, but she kept calm and answered, “Just a minute please.”
She had started to repeat the process for the other leg when the door burst open. Homer took one look at her and stood with his mouth open. Skye froze with the nylon half up her calf, her skirt bunched around her waist, and her foot resting on the seat of the chair. Neither one of them seemed capable of speech.
Finally, Homer spoke, sounding as if he were strangling, “Skye, ah, Ms. Denison, ah heck.”
“Homer . . . ah . . . could you give me a minute?”
The man didn’t move.
Skye tried again, louder. “Homer, step out of the office for a minute.”
“Ah . . .” The principal complied as if he were coming out of suspended animation.
She finished donning her panty hose and straightened her clothing, then let Homer back into the office. “Sorry. I had a run. Should have used the ladies’ room.”
Homer’s face was still red, but he managed to say, “Never mind. We’ve got real trouble.”
“What now?”
“The police have arrested Kent Walker for Lorelei’s murder.”
“Oh.” She had figured they might when she gave Lorelei’s letter and Lorna’s picture to the dispatcher to give to the chief.
“It gets worse.” The hair in Homer’s ears quivered. “They found all kinds of smutty letters and pictures of him with her.”
“Oh, my.” Skye tried to act surprised.
“And to top things off, he’s asked to speak to you. You’re his one phone call. The police dispatcher is on hold.”
“Wonderful.”
As Homer slammed out of the office, Skye sat down at her desk and reached for the receiver. She punched the blinking light and said, “Skye Denison. May I help you?”
“Skye, honey, this is Thea from down at the police station. Your friend Kent is in a heap of trouble, and he’s asking for you. Can you come right away?”
“Can’t I just talk to him on the phone?”
“Well . . . you could, I guess, but Wally and the others have him in the interrogation room, and things are sounding pretty ugly.” The daytime dispatcher was a grandmotherly type who wanted everyone, even the police and criminals, to play nice.
“But if I’m his one phone call, they have to let him talk to me.”
“See, they haven’t arrested him, they’re just questioning him, so they don’t have to give him a phone call yet.” Thea hesitated before adding, “The thing is, he was yelling he wanted to call you, so I called you for him. The chief doesn’t know I did it. But your friend was already bleeding. Looked like he hit his head . . . or something.”
“I see. I’ll be right there.” The last thing she wanted to do was rescue the slimeball, but it wasn’t right for the police to beat him up. She wouldn’t actually help him, just go and check things out.
She stopped at the office on her way out and told Opal where she was going.
During the short ride to the police station, she wondered why she was doing this. Kent was no longer her boyfriend. And after reading that letter from Lorelei she knew he’d had an affair with her. So, why was she going? Was it because he was a teacher in her school, and she was afraid of the scandal? Charlie would certainly have a fit.
Or maybe deep down inside, although she knew Kent was a jerk, she didn’t believe he was a killer. Feelings were running high in town, and she was afraid that something would happen to Kent before he ever got to trial. Not that Wally would do anything to harm him, but she didn’t trust the other officers.
Thea greeted her with a wink as she entered the station. “Skye, what are you doing here?”
Skye went along with the charade and raised her voice. “A little bird told me you had someone here who might need my help.”
“You can’t go in there,” Thea said as she pushed the button to let Skye through the door.
Skye lowered her voice. “So what happened?”
Thea spoke just above a whisper. “Late last night, someone called Wally at home and said they knew who killed Lorelei Ingels. The woman said the murderer was Kent Walker, and that if they searched his apartment, they’d find proof that Kent and Lorelei were lovers.”
“Oh, my.”
“Wally finally got hold of the judge this morning and got a warrant. He’d already seen the picture and letter you dropped off at six. About seven-thirty the chief, Roy Quirk, and a couple of guys from county went to your friend’s apartment and searched it.” Thea’s eyes widened. “They found dirty pictures and love letters from Lorelei and her mother.”
“Can I see the stuff they confiscated?”
“You’re in luck. Your friend was making such a fuss when they brought him in, Wally just threw the folder on top of the cabinet.” Thea disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a large manila envelope and handed it to Skye.
Skye emptied the envelope onto the counter and began to look through the material. The pictures were similar to the photo in his wallet—Mrs. Ingels in various stages of undress in motel-room settings. She didn’t read the letters. She was already too disgusted.
When the dispatcher finished with her call, Skye handed her the envelope. “Thanks. What a scumbag. I should just let him face the music.”
“Innocent until proven guilty. And he was bleeding,” Thea said softly as she left to replace the envelope.
When the older woman returned, Skye said, “Can I talk to Wally?”
“He doesn’t want to be disturbed.” She shrugged helplessly.
“What do you think would happen if I forced my way into the interrogation room?”
“They’d throw you out.”
Skye chewed on a fingernail. “At least I don’t hear any shouting coming from in there.” She inclined her head toward the closed door. “What did he say, exactly, when he asked for me?”
Thea closed her eyes and screwed up her face. “He said, ‘I want to make a phone call.’ And when they said no, he said, ‘Tell Skye Denison I need to talk to her.’ ”
“Is that all?” Why had he thought she’d help him? Skye made up her mind. Time to turn the problem over to someone who could be neutral. “Can I use the phone?”
Thea shoved the instrument toward her. “Dial nine first.”
Skye rummaged through her tote bag until she found her address book. She flipped to the S section, ran her finger down the page, then punched in the number. “Loretta Steiner, please. Skye Denison calling.”
A few seconds later a throaty voice reverberated from the receiver. “Denison, what’s up? I just heard of a great new restaurant.”
Loretta was a sorority sister of Skye’s, and one of the best criminal lawyers in Chicago. She had defended Vince a year and a half ago, when Skye’s brother was accused of murder. Since then the two women had gotten together for lunch every time Skye went into the city.
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a social call. I need to hire you again.”
“Who’s dead this time?”
After Skye explained, Loretta said, “Okay, if the roads are clear I’ll see you in ninety minutes, and if they aren’t, who knows?” Illinois had only two seasons—winter and construction. Winter was officially over. The first orange traffic cone had been spotted.
Before Skye could hang up, Loretta asked, “Do you think he killed her?”
“No, but I don’t have a good reason for thinking that, except I don’t want to have an ex-boyfriend who’s a killer. It’s bad enough that he slept with a married woman and her daughter while we were dating.”
“Did you take precautions?” Loretta demanded.
“No.”
Loretta drew in a sharp breath.
“Because I didn’t sleep with him,” Skye finished.
“Oh . . . ah . . . that’s good. Great.” Loretta fumbled for a comment. “See you soon.”
A tiny smile played on Skye’s lips as she hung up the phone. She had never heard her friend at such a loss for words.
Skye sat on the vinyl couch in the police-station entry-way as she waited for Loretta. She had written Kent a note, telling him a lawyer was on her way, but she doubted Wally had given it to him.
She shifted in her seat and grabbed her tote bag, hoping that she had put her current mystery into it before leaving that morning. Her questing hand didn’t feel the hard edge of a book, but did come across the sheaf of papers she had taken from her mailbox on both Thursday and Friday. She had sorted out the phone messages at school and returned most of the calls, but she hadn’t looked at the rest of the documents.
Her eyes automatically scanned the memos before tossing them into the wastebasket. Most had nothing to do with her, but one stopped her automatic crumple reflex. It was from Homer, calling a meeting to discuss their school’s low grade on the state report card. Their achievement scores did not stack up well against those of other, wealthier school districts. The last paragraph read:
We’re going to keep having these meetings until I find out why no work is getting done around here.
Skye smoothed the wrinkled sheet and put it back in her purse. It would go in her scrapbook of silly administrator memos.
The last thing in her pile was an envelope that had already been ripped open. She turned it over to see if she could figure out why the seal had been broken, and froze. She stared at the piece of mail in her hand. It was addressed to Mr. Simon Reid, Coroner. The top left corner bore the name of the forensics lab. It was the missing toxicology report. How had it gotten into her mailbox at school? More importantly, what should she do with it?
She glanced around. She was alone in the waiting area, but anyone could come through one of several doors at any moment. What to do? Hand it over to Wally, was the obvious answer, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get this to her. And Wally already had a copy, so she wasn’t withholding vital information.
Okay, she’d take a quick peek and then give it to the chief. But she needed to preserve any fingerprints. Skye reached into her purse and retrieved her cosmetic case. Inside were tweezers, which she used to pull the report from the envelope.
A quick scan told her nothing. Most of the narrative did not use words Skye understood. The summary was a little easier to grasp. Lorelei had been given a fatal dose of dextroamphetamine. That sounded familiar. Skye made a note of the drug and the amounts found in the young woman’s blood.
She was using the tweezers to return the report to its envelope when she saw a Post-it stuck on the back. Scrawled on the yellow square was:
Thought you should see this. Watson.
Skye was hoping Watson wasn’t who she thought he was when Loretta arrived. Six feet tall and well muscled, with smooth mahogany skin and black hair that she wore in a coronet of braids, Loretta turned heads whenever she entered a room.
The two women hugged.
“Same police chief?” Loretta asked.
“Same everything.”
“Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll demand to see my client. If your friend is swift enough, he’ll confirm I’m his lawyer and everything will be fine.”
“And if he’s not too quick on the uptake?”
“We’ll play it by ear.” Loretta turned and rang the visitor’s bell.
Thea answered, listened to Loretta, and went to get the chief.
He appeared a few minutes later, scowling. “Ms. Steiner, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” He glanced over her shoulder at Skye. “As if I couldn’t guess.”
“Chief Boyd, nice to see you again. I’m here on behalf of Kent Walker. I understand you’ve been questioning my client without benefit of attorney.”
“He’s not under arrest.”
“So he’s free to go?”
“We’ve asked him to cooperate in our investigation.”
“I understand that cooperation was coerced with a blow to the head.”
Wally’s face reddened. “He hit his head getting into the police car.”
“Right.” Loretta narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to see my client now.”
After Loretta was ushered into the interrogation room to confer with Kent, who had readily agreed that she was his attorney, Skye returned to school.
Her first act was to put the tox report into a Ziploc bag and stash it in her trunk with the photocopy of Lorelei’s letter. Skye had a bad feeling that Watson was none other than Justin Boward, and that the girl who’d been seen right after the original report was stolen was Frannie Ryan. She wondered when those two had joined forces.
Skye was trying to figure out how much of what she knew was confidential when Opal knocked on her door. Homer wanted to see her.
Skye had barely settled into a chair in the principal’s office when he demanded, “What in the hell is going on? Did Kent murder Lorelei?”
“The police got a tip and searched Kent’s house. They found dirty pictures of, and letters from, both Lorna and Lorelei. It appears he was sleeping with both mother and daughter. It looked to me like they were going to charge him with Lorelei’s murder, so I got him an attorney.”
“He understands the school isn’t paying lawyer fees, right?”
“Why would he think they would?” Skye countered.
A shifty look settled on the principal’s features. “I’m not sure, but we may’ve promised him that when we hired him.”
Light was dawning. “You mean, you gave Kent an under-the-table deal—outside the teachers’ contract?”
Homer half nodded, then seemed to catch himself. “I can’t talk about that.”
“You know, I always wondered how someone like Kent Walker, who hated being in Scumble River—let alone in the Midwest—ended up in our school. Any ideas?”
“What do you mean by that?” The hair in Homer’s ears bristled. “I’ll have you know we pass over a lot of good people to get to the ones we hire.”
Skye bit her lip to keep from laughing. The sad thing was that Homer was probably right. “Okay, but it’s still odd that someone who thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us ended up teaching in Scumble River.” After the words left her mouth she realized the description sounded strangely like her own situation. She reddened slightly and blocked that thought.
The principal leaned back in his chair. “It’s a long story.”
“My day’s already shot. Go ahead.”
“Kent’s father owns most of the car dealerships in Massachusetts. Mayor Clapp met him at some convention or other that one of the auto manufacturers put on. They had some business thing going so they kept in touch.”
Skye could imagine the type of deal Mayor Clapp would be involved in. “So . . .”
“So, this summer the mayor gets a call from Mr. Walker asking if he could find a job around here for Kent. Seems that he’d been living on the family money and got into some trouble, and the father wanted to teach him a lesson.”
“I’ll bet I can guess what kind of trouble he got into,” Skye interjected, thinking of the pictures she had seen.
“Anyway, Mayor Clapp asked about his qualifications. He had a degree in English and we had a maternity leave to fill.”
“That clears up that mystery.” It was beginning to seem to Skye that the Scumble River school district attracted more than its share of misfits from the education world, herself included.
“It’s not good.” Loretta Steiner glanced up from the menu. “There’s a lot against him, and not much for him.”
Skye gazed around the Feedbag before responding. It was nearly five, and the restaurant was filling rapidly. “What do they have on him?”
Loretta closed the giant laminated folder and put it aside. She used her fingers to tally Kent’s guilt. “They have several witnesses who will testify that Lorelei and Kent had an intimate relationship. Almost her entire cheerleading squad saw them alone together in compromising situations outside of school at one time
or another.”
Skye took a sip of ice water. “I knew Lorelei hadn’t been discreet, but you’d think Kent would know better.”
“Sounds like she may have set him up—wanted the other girls to see them kissing and such.” Loretta signaled to the waitress, then continued after they ordered. “He lucked out in one respect. Everyone agrees Lorelei was past the age of consent.”
“Maybe legally, but morally to have an affair with your student is plain sleazy.”
Loretta shrugged. “It’s pretty mild compared to the cases I often see.”
“Thank God I never let him photograph me. Of course, come to think of it, he never asked.” Skye took another gulp of water. “I think I’ve been insulted.”
“You were obviously his cover, so no one would realize what he was really up to.” Loretta grinned. “Besides, he’s terrified of Uncle Charlie. He was afraid to try anything with you.”
“I can’t decide whether to be relieved or offended.”
“The most damning bit of evidence is that they found a bottle of prescription diet pills in Kent’s medicine cabinet.”
Skye looked blank.
“They were prescribed to Lorelei,” Loretta explained. “And they were the drug that killed her.”
“Shit!” That was how Skye had heard of dextroamphetamine—a doctor had probably tried to prescribe them for her at some point in her life. “What did he have to say about all this?”
“Kent had an explanation for it all. Said that Lorelei had decided to stop taking the weight-loss pills and given him the bottle to keep so she wouldn’t be tempted.” Loretta shook her head. “He’s using the old ‘she came on to me’ defense to explain why he was sleeping with his student.”
“Well, not that I’m blind to the evidence against Kent, but I do think Priscilla VanHorn is an equally good suspect,” Skye said.
“Who’s she?”
“Her daughter was runner up to Lorelei in everything—school, cheerleading, and even at these beauty pageants they all seem to be participating in—so she had motive.” Skye explained about the incident with Charlie at the last contest. “She certainly had the opportunity. Zoë and Lorelei were always together, so all she had to do was hand her a bottle of doctored juice. And means would be no problem. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Priscilla and her daughter are both taking the same diet pills that Lorelei was.”