Scumble River Mystery 07 Dead Blondes Tell No Tales

by Denise Swanson

  Skye left Ruby and Frannie laughing and went back into the bar. She had missed the second round of the trivia game, but by some miracle Earl’s team had made it into the finals, and she watched as one of the opposition answered a question correctly.

  Next Bunny turned to Earl, and, reading from an index card, asked, “Name the four seasons.”

  Earl scratched his crotch, then answered confidently, “Salt, pepper, catsup, and . . .” He chewed his thumbnail. “Tabasco sauce.”

  The audience roared, Skye cringed, and the rest of Team Three scowled.

  Bunny went through another group of questions, and when she once again came to Earl, she announced, “The teams are tied at seven points each. If Earl gets this correct, Team Three wins.” She waited for silence, then read, “According to the Bible, what happened on Easter Sunday?”

  Earl stuck his finger in his ear, dug for a while, then examined what he had mined. Finally he said, “Jesus came back from the dead as a giant rabbit and hid eggs for all the good little kids.”

  The spectators went wild with laughter, completely ignoring Bunny’s attempts to quiet them. Both team captains were shouting that their team had won. Skye stood at the back wondering what to do. She was afraid the crowd would get violent if Bunny didn’t regain control soon.

  Suddenly, over the commotion, a fire alarm sounded, and seconds later Skye heard the sirens of a fire truck heading their way.

  Chapter 7

  Blondes Are the Dark Roots of All Evil

  The firefighters cleared the building, and while everyone stood around the parking lot trying to figure out what was going on, Bunny declared the trivia contest a tie and promised that both teams would receive equal prizes.

  After a half hour, most of the crowd drifted away, disappointed that there were no flames shooting out from the building’s windows and no bodies plummeting from the roof. It was past ten on a worknight, and if there wasn’t any blood and guts, they figured they might as well go home and catch the late-night news on TV, which could be counted on for at least one shot of a bleeding corpse.

  By the time the fire department declared the bowling alley safe to reenter, there were only a handful of people remaining, and most of them had a good reason to be there.

  Skye stood between Bunny and Simon, a position she found rather symbolic, since mother and son had been sniping at one another since Simon’s arrival minutes after the firefighters had evacuated the place. They were all shivering, since Bunny and Skye hadn’t been allowed to go back into the building for their jackets, and Simon had left the funeral home in such a hurry he had forgotten to grab his overcoat.

  Frannie, Ruby, and Earl Doozier were an odd threesome sitting on dilapidated lawn chairs that Earl had produced from the trunk of his ancient Buick Regal. Ruby’s contribution to the gathering was a silver flask, which she and Earl were passing back and forth while Frannie watched in fascinated silence. Skye kept an eye on the group to make sure Ruby and Earl didn’t decide to include the teenager in their party.

  Another trio consisted of Skye’s parents and Charlie. Although Charlie’s business was operating the motor court, his true avocation was running Scumble River. He held no public office, except that of school board president, but he was the big cheese in town. Between him and Skye’s mother, thanks to her job as a police dispatcher, they knew everything that was worth knowing about the community, and some things that were probably better left secret.

  Skye’s parents had shown up to make sure she was safe after hearing the emergency call on their police scanner, and then withdrew to discuss the situation out of her earshot. Both were convinced that Skye was still a child and needed their help in all matters.

  Charlie had heard about the fire the same way that May and Jed had, as had nearly everyone in town, since most people owned a scanner, finding it more amusing to listen to than most television shows. Scumble Riverites had discovered the allure of reality programming long before the TV executives started putting it on the air.

  The remaining group hanging around consisted of males of a certain age who turned out to watch whenever there was a fire call. Skye recognized most of them, but a few were unfamiliar. She figured they were probably men who had been at the bowling alley when the alarm sounded.

  Something glinted to Skye’s right, and she squinted in that direction. A man stood off to the side, in the shadow of the shop next door. Could he be the person who wore the gorilla mask to tell jokes in the talent show the night before? He had the same build and posture, but without a face to go by, she couldn’t be sure. Something had struck her about last night’s comic, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. What had she noticed that made him stick out?

  The fire chief interrupted her rumination by holding out his hand to Simon and saying, “Mr. Reid, good news. There’s no sign of a fire anywhere in the building.”

  Simon shook the chief’s hand, and asked, “What caused the alarm to go off?”

  “As far as we can tell, it was triggered in the upstairs apartment. It looks as if someone burned something in a wastebasket up there and didn’t quite put it out.” The chief took off his helmet and scratched his head. “You’ve got a very sensitive smoke-detection system, and the smoldering paper would have been enough to set it off.”

  “That’s strange.” Simon wrinkled his brow. “My mother lives in that apartment, and she was down in the bowling alley.” He turned to Bunny. “Did you go back upstairs for anything?”

  “No. I haven’t been in my apartment since six, when I changed clothes for tonight’s contest.” Bunny smoothed the pristine white embroidered jeans that clung to her like the peel on a banana. The matching shirt had a mesh vee down the front that reached nearly to her waist.

  Skye noticed that the fire chief could barely take his eyes from Bunny’s silicone valley, which made her aware of her own less-than-attractive appearance. She wore the same clothes she had put on to come to work at noon—black jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck that matched her eyes. They were both covered with smudges and stains from helping people exit the building in an orderly fashion. How had Bunny remained so spotless?

  “Who else has a key to your apartment, Mrs. Reid?” The fire chief withdrew a small notebook from an inside pocket.

  “Please, call me Bunny. ‘Mrs. Reid’ makes me feel so old.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  Skye hadn’t noticed Charlie join the group until she heard him clear his throat and saw him frown at the chief, who ignored him. Skye made a face. She knew Charlie and Bunny had dated back in November, when the redhead had first arrived in town, but she thought that was over. Had they started up again?

  The chief repeated his question. “So, Bunny, who else has a key to your apartment?”

  “Let’s see.” Bunny tapped her cheek with a red-tipped nail. “Sonny Boy.”

  “That would be Mr. Reid?”

  Simon nodded brusquely and frowned at his mother.

  “Were you in the apartment tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Anyone else, Bunny?” the chief probed.

  Bunny was silent, as was Simon, so Skye suggested, “How about Ruby?”

  “What about Ruby?” The blonde had sidled up next to Charlie, and was looking him over appreciatively.

  “I thought you might have a key to Bunny’s apartment, since you’re staying with her,” Skye explained. “The fire chief wants to know who has one.”

  “Yes, Bunny gave me a spare.” Ruby turned her attention to the chief, laying a hand on his arm. “I hope that doesn’t mean you think I deliberately set the fire. I’d be ever so upset if you thought badly of me.”

  It was hard to tell, since the chief’s face was deeply tanned, but Skye could swear he blushed.

  “No,” he stammered, “of course not. It looks like an accident. Maybe you burned something in the wastebasket earlier and didn’t realize it was still smoldering?”

  A strange expression crossed Ruby’s face, b
ut she quickly rearranged her features and produced a single tear. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. How awful of me to abuse Bunny’s hospitality like that.” She clutched the chief’s hand. “I was paying bills and I wanted to destroy the invoices. You know, they keep warning and warning you about identity theft, so I burned them. I was sure the fire was out. I can’t believe I was that careless.”

  The chief put his free arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry about it, ma’am. No harm done. My boys needed the practice anyway.” He turned to Simon. “I’m sure you agree, Reid, that accidents happen.”

  Simon glanced from his mother to the blonde cuddling in the chief’s arms, and shrugged. “Can’t argue with that. Some things are inevitable.”

  Chapter 8

  Nip It in the Blonde

  “Trust Bunny to have an alarming finish for something as tame as a trivia game,” Simon commented to Skye as she drove them toward her cottage.

  After the fire chief had finished talking to them, Simon had gone home to drop off his car. Skye had followed a few minutes later and picked him up.

  Six months ago, Skye and Simon had finally taken the big step and spent the night together. Since then, continuing the intimate side of their relationship without the whole town finding out that they were sleeping together had been a challenge.

  Despite the casual attitude toward sex that Hollywood portrayed in the movies, small-town Scumble River took a dim view of its unmarried citizens hopping in and out of bed with one another. Not that the town singles didn’t have premarital sex; they just had to be a lot more discreet than if they lived in Chicago.

  This posed a bigger problem for Skye and Simon than most, because both their jobs put them in the public eye. In addition, each drove extremely distinctive cars, and Skye’s mother worked as a police dispatcher—the officer on patrol would definitely tell her if he saw Simon’s Lexus parked at Skye’s cottage all night.

  Now, as Skye maneuvered the Bel Air into her driveway, she wondered if Simon’s staying over was a good idea. It had been a long day, and she felt anything but attractive in her dirty clothes with her hair morphed from its usual smooth curtain into a mass of wild curls.

  She planned her strategy as she fitted the key into the lock. First, she’d divert his attention. “I was surprised that Xavier didn’t come over to see if Frannie was okay.” Xavier was Frannie’s father and worked for Simon as embalmer and assistant funeral director. “Did you call him and let him know she was safe?”

  “He was in Kankakee. Tuesday nights are his martial-arts classes. I don’t think he gets home until midnight or so.”

  “Oh.” As Skye entered her cottage foyer, a big black cat appeared and began rubbing against her ankles. She picked him up and scratched under his chin. “What’s wrong, Bingo? Are you a hungry kitty?” The feline purred louder and wiggled out of her embrace.

  Simon leaned down to pet him. “What’s up, fella? Can’t take all this attention?”

  Turning to Simon, Skye put phase two of her plan into action—keep Simon occupied while she fixed herself up. “Could you take care of Bingo for me while I take a quick shower? Give him one can of Fancy Feast, fresh water, and sift his litter box.”

  Skye fled into her bedroom while Simon was still nodding his agreement. Fifteen minutes later, she was clean—smelling of Chanel No. 5 rather than sweat—her hair had been tamed into a French braid, and she was dressed in a jade-green satin chemise and matching kimono.

  She was now ready for phase three—seduction. She walked out of her bedroom and purred, “Simon, darling, I’m ready.”

  There was no response. Where was he? She moved farther into the great room. Simon was sprawled on the couch. He had taken off his suit jacket, tie, shoes, and socks; rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and untucked it; and apparently started to read the paper before exhaustion had won. He was fast asleep.

  Skye sighed, draped an afghan over him, and went into the kitchen for a midnight snack. If she couldn’t have one treat, she’d have to settle for another kind.

  Mmm.What did she feel like? Something soothing. She opened the freezer door. Ah, just the thing, chocolate ice cream with marshmallow-fluff topping—one or two scoops?

  She stood with the spoon poised over the carton, listening to her good angel argue with her bad one about portion size, when a husky voice murmured, “Got enough to share?” Simon leaned against the archway separating the great room from the kitchen. He had shed his shirt, and his muscular chest glowed with a bronze sheen.

  The underlying sensuality of his words made her tremble.

  He moved toward her and wrapped her in his arms, then whispered into her hair, “You weren’t really planning to let me sleep on the couch all night, were you?”

  She put her arms around his neck and inhaled his scent. “I thought maybe you needed the rest.”

  Simon tightened his embrace, molding her soft curves to the contours of his lean body. “Do I seem tired to you?” His mouth covered hers hungrily.

  Parting her lips, she raised herself to meet his kiss, and she heard him groan deep his throat.

  His hand slid up the silky fabric of her nightgown until it found her breast. His stroking fingers sent pleasant jolts through Skye. Simon’s lips left hers and seared a path from her earlobe to her bare shoulder.

  Her breathing was uneven, and she managed to gasp only one word: “Bedroom?”

  He freed one arm and snagged the carton of ice cream from the counter.

  Skye thought he would put it back into the freezer so it wouldn’t melt, but he said, “Let’s take this with us.”

  She wondered what he had in mind, shivering at the possibilities.

  Skye stretched and yawned before turning to look at the clock radio.Shit! It was already after eight. Why hadn’t Simon woken her? He was always up by six, no matter how late he got to sleep.

  She was supposed to be at her mother’s by nine to accompany May to the hospital. She had finally convinced her mom to get a mammogram, and she wasn’t letting May weasel out of it.

  Throwing off the covers, she leaped out of bed, then glanced back, looking for her robe. Simon was still fast asleep, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. She kissed him lightly on the lips and headed for the bathroom.

  A half hour later, she was dressed in navy wool slacks and baby blue twinset. Simon had finally woken up and was showering. While he got ready, she gulped down a cup of tea and a piece of toast.

  By the time she went back to the bedroom for her shoes he was zipping his pants.

  He kissed her and said, “I need to leave some things over here. I hate putting on dirty clothes the next morning.”

  Skye froze. Leaving clothes at each other’s places was getting perilously close to moving in together, and she was not ready for that. Was she? She murmured something noncommittal, then said, “Sorry to rush you, but I’ve got to be at Mom’s in ten minutes, and if I’m late she’ll chicken out.”

  “No problem, let’s go.” As they got into the car he said, “I’m going to do some investigating this morning about Ruby. Give me a call when you get back, and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “I should be back by noon and at the bowling alley by one. Don’t forget tonight is karaoke, and I expect you to sing to me.”

  “That’s about as likely to happen as my finding out that Ruby is working for the CIA.”

  Chapter 9

  I Know Why the Caged Blonde Sings

  Skye had discovered one of life’s little truths: A karaoke machine brought out every bad singer within a thirty-mile radius, and they were all intent on being first to demonstrate why they shouldn’t even consider packing their bags and moving to Nashville or Hollywood.

  Skye looked around the bowling alley’s bar; once again the room was packed. When they had brought out the equipment, and the horde rushed the stage, she had been afraid they were in for a riot. But Bunny had handed out numbers and assured everyone they would get a turn, wh
ich meant that at the rate they were going, some of the people possessing the higher digits might be singing at dawn.

  The lady currently in possession of the microphone was droning the longest version of “Danny Boy” ever heard outside of Ireland. Skye narrowed her eyes. Was that pink fur beginning to grow on the woman’s arm? No, maybe not, but even so, Skye could detect a distinct resemblance to the Energizer Bunny—she just kept singing and singing and singing.

  Normally Skye would have slipped out of the bar and hidden somewhere with a good book until the musical mayhem was over. Unfortunately, tonight she was trapped. The bartender hadn’t shown up for work, and she’d been forced to fill in for him. Considering her limited knowledge of mixing cocktails, it was a good thing most of the crowd drank beer or some other form of malt beverage from a can, bottle, or keg.

  She scanned the room as she filled two mugs from the Budweiser tap. Where was Ruby? The blonde hadn’t been around since Skye had gotten to the bowling alley that afternoon. When asked, Bunny had claimed ignorance of Ruby’s whereabouts, and then become busy elsewhere, avoiding further questions.

  The final strains of “Danny Boy” had barely faded when a man weaing a white jumpsuit, dark glasses, and a wig with long sideburns claimed the stage. Somehow Skye wasn’t shocked when he started to sing “Love Me Tender,” though she was a bit surprised that he was good.

  Skye paused in midpour to inspect the Elvis impersonator. He seemed familiar, but with the costume and all it was hard to tell. Was he someone from town?

  Her concentration on figuring out Elvis’s true identity was broken when Hacker, the missing bartender, materialized at her side, startling her. She dropped the glass she was holding, and it shattered as it hit the floor.

  “Damn!” Skye immediately knelt to pick up the jagged pieces, bumping into the power-washing gear the cleaning crew had stored behind the bar. She made a mental note to ask Bunny how long that equipment would have to stay there. It was really in the way.