After a long moment, Fawn blew on her tea and took a sip. She swallowed; then, as if making up her mind about something, she said, “I didn’t kill Lee Harvey and I didn’t kill Alexis Hightower either, Chief.”
“Oh?”
Fawn looked Wally in the eye, her gaze unwavering. “Both of them were awful excuses for human beings. And it’s certainly better to have loved and lost than to put up with that horrible man for the rest of my life. But I decided a long time ago that who lives and who dies is up to the Lord, not me.”
Skye was surprised to hear Fawn admit that her husband hadn’t been a good man. According to the local gossip and the Laurel police, the woman had never acknowledged Lee Harvey was anything but wonderful.
“That’s a good way of thinking,” Wally said without inflection. “Unfortunately, at least in the case of Ms. Hightower, I need more than just your word that you aren’t the murderer.”
“I checked my e-mail when I got home from the disco bowler party and sent a reply around midnight,” Fawn said. “I forgot about that when Sergeant Quirk asked me about an alibi, but you can check that sort of thing, right?”
“Yes, I believe we can. I’ll have the county crime techs look into it.” Wally made a note. “Who did you e-mail that night?”
“A man who was interested in buying a kitten.” Fawn ran her finger along the rim of her mug. “I let him know that I only had one left, and asked him for some information if he was interested.”
“Information?” Wally asked.
“About his home, how many people lived there, and why he wanted to buy a purebred instead of just adopting a shelter cat,” Fawn answered. “I always make sure that my babies are going to good homes before I agree to sell them.” Her smile was fierce. “That used to drive Lee Harvey crazy.” She rubbed her wrist again. “But I protected them.”
Wally asked a few more questions, then said, “Thank you for your time.” He got to his feet and waited for Skye to stand. Then as they walked toward the door, he said to Fawn, “Until we can verify your alibi, please don’t leave town without letting me know.”
“Don’t you worry, Chief.” Fawn crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere. This farm has been in my family for a hundred years, and if I didn’t let Lee Harvey run me off, nothing will make me leave.”
CHAPTER 17
While the Cat’s Away
Once Skye and Wally had gotten into the squad car, she asked, “Did you find anything suspicious or useful when you were looking around the house?”
“Nothing obvious.” Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “In fact, the only thing that was the least bit out of the ordinary was that there are still men’s clothes in the closet and drawers in the master bedroom. So if he left voluntarily, he didn’t take his belongings.”
“On the other hand, if Fawn killed her husband, she’d know he wasn’t coming back and would have gotten rid of his stuff.” Skye bit her lip. “I think she’s afraid that if he does come back and his possessions are gone, he’ll be angry.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Wally stretched. “Or she’s putting on a good show in case his body turns up and the police search her house.”
“I guess that could be true.” Skye shrugged, then said, “Regarding Alexis’s murder, the ME puts the time of death between eleven thirty and twelve thirty, right?”
Wally nodded.
“So if Fawn really sent an e-mail at midnight there’s no way she could have killed Alexis.” Skye paused, calculating distances and road conditions on Saturday night. “At the very least, it would take Fawn forty-five minutes to drive from Scumble River to her house, probably closer to an hour if she went the speed limit.”
“I agree.” Wally pulled his cell off his belt. “Fawn will be in the clear—at least for our case—if the county crime techs are able to confirm she sent the e-mail at the time she said and from her home computer.”
“I saw her PC. It’s about a hundred years old and money seems tight, so I doubt she has a laptop.”
“We’ll see.” Wally punched a series of numbers into his phone. “I’m going to call the techs right now and ask if they have the ability to determine when, and from where, an e-mail was sent.”
While Wally talked on the phone, Skye freshened up her lipstick. Vince had informed her at her last hair appointment that she was getting too old to go around with bare lips. At the time, she had resented his comment, but later, looking in the mirror, she had to agree that she looked better with some color on her mouth.
“Good news.” Wally closed his phone and turned to her. “The tech says their computer guy can confirm the e-mail info.”
“Great.” Skye smiled. She liked Fawn and wanted to clear her of suspicion—at least for Alexis’s murder. Having been married to a man like Lee Harvey, the poor woman must have suffered enough punishment for two lifetimes. “So that leaves Kyle O’Brien, Lola Martinez, and Ivan Quigley as suspects.”
“Don’t forget Jacobsen,” Wally cautioned as he headed the Caprice back to Scumble River. “Although I know you would like us to overlook him.”
“Did you interview Ivan yourself?” Skye asked, ignoring Wally’s comment about Elijah. “I know you said his housekeeper alibied him, but you also said she changed her statement, which seems pretty fishy to me.”
“He’s on my list, but not anywhere near the top of the page.” Wally concentrated on the road. It was a little after nine p.m. and since it was a moonless night, the countryside was completely dark. “Quigley’s motive is one of the weakest of the bunch. Interfering with his chance to have Fawn for his speed date is pretty minor when he can just pick up a phone and ask her out some other time.”
“True.” Skye nodded. “But it did happen within a couple of hours of Alexis being killed, and as far as we know, she didn’t have an altercation with anyone else between then and her death.”
“I see your point. We can talk to Quigley together tomorrow.” Wally’s agreement was good-natured. “But he’ll probably call his lawyer and clam up, so it might be a wasted trip. He has a lot of influence in this area and he didn’t get as rich as he is by being stupid.”
“Well.” Skye blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s worth a try.”
“Sure.” Wally braked for a deer crossing the road, then waited as two more followed. “Sometimes guys like that are so used to being deferred to, they’re arrogant enough to blurt out something incriminating.”
“Who else do we have to interview?” Skye watched the graceful animals disappear into the woods, hoping they wouldn’t become one of her cousins’ hunting trophies or fill one of their freezers.
“No one I can think of,” Wally admitted. “We’ve interviewed everyone from the cat show, a few of them twice. Alexis had no family to speak of and her only friend seems to be the neighbor who is taking care of her cats. The woman with the airtight alibi.”
“How about the servers, bartender, deejay, and bouncer?” Skye asked, remembering that Wally hadn’t mentioned the staff. “Do they have alibis?”
“We spoke to all of them on the phone and they claim to have gone home after work.” Wally’s expression was discouraged. “A couple of them live alone, but no one reported seeing any interaction between the vic and the workers. Heck, the only one Alexis seems to have spoken to was a waitress who brought her a couple of drinks.”
“Darn. I suppose that makes the staff unlikely suspects.” Skye chewed on her thumbnail. “Unless—was she mean to that waitress?”
“Nope.” Wally glanced at Skye, who was frowning, and assured her, “Martinez and Zuchowski are checking around to see if there are any connections between the employees and Alexis. But Bunny’s recordkeeping leaves a lot to be desired. She hires a lot of employees off the books, and her only means of contacting them is their phone numbers, which are often pay-as-you-go cells. Which means it’s hard to tell if the staff has ever crossed paths with the vic before.”
“I figured you were on top of it.” Skye smi
led and patted his knee. “I’m so thankful that you don’t get all defensive when I make suggestions. A lot of men would have a problem with that.”
“Why?” Wally drew his brows together. “I know I’m a good police officer, but no one can think of everything.” He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “My main concern has always been catching the bad guys. If I was worried about getting my ego bruised, I would never have hired you as the department’s psych consultant.”
“I know you don’t want to be called sweet, so how about awesome?” Skye teased. “Or maybe incredible and amazingly wonderful.”
“Awesome works for me.” Wally grinned. “And hot and sexy are always good.”
For the rest of the drive they discussed wedding plans. They agreed to have the reception at the Country Mansion in Dwight—the restaurant that had been the site of their first real date. Skye was fairly certain that the Mansion’s banquet facility would be available on December thirtieth, since all the Christmas parties would be over and New Year’s Eve wasn’t until the next day. But if the restaurant was unavailable, there was always the country club, the American Legion, or even the Grand Union of the Mighty Bulls assembly hall.
Skye already knew which three people she would ask to be her attendants, but Wally wasn’t sure which friends he’d ask to stand up for him. She suggested his cousin. Although she had never met the man, she knew he worked for Wally’s dad in Texas. But Wally seemed less than enthusiastic about that idea, saying they weren’t all that close. They were discussing his other possible choices for groomsmen when they pulled into Skye’s driveway.
A second later, the police radio crackled into life, and the dispatcher’s voice said, “Ten-thirty-three at the First National Bank.”
“An alarm is going off.” Wally translated for Skye. “Martinez is on duty alone tonight. I’d better go back her up. Sorry.”
“No problem.” Skye understood Wally’s concern for the young rookie.
“It’s probably nothing.” Wally stopped the squad car in front of Skye’s porch. “Those alarms go off when a butterfly lands on them.”
“Sure.” Skye leaned over and kissed his cheek, then hopped out of the Caprice and said, “Go ahead.”
“Unless it’s too late, I’ll call you when I’m finished checking things out.” Wally waved, put the cruiser in reverse, and took off toward town with his siren blaring and his lights flashing.
Skye was almost relieved that Wally had had to leave. Although she missed him when they spent a night apart, she needed to deal with the Mrs. Griggs situation before he stayed over again. She was fairly sure another instance of coitus interruptus would push him over the edge, making him hate her house, and she’d end up living in new construction when they got married.
It was already quarter to ten when Skye let herself into the house. But no matter how tired she was, tonight she was going to read the ghost-busting file and figure out what she would need to do to get rid of the former owner’s spirit once and for all. Mrs. Griggs’s shenanigans with the phones ringing and the doorbell buzzing the previous evening had sealed her fate. It was time for the apparition to go toward the light—or wherever ghosts went when they left this mortal plane.
With Bingo on her heels, Skye darted into the kitchen and grabbed the exorcism folder, paper, and a pen. The black cat protested loudly when she didn’t dish out a second dinner, then hunkered down by his bowl and glared at her as she sat at the table.
Skye chewed on the end of her Bic as she read the instructions for the “cleansing.” According to the clippings she had found on the Internet, the task required a willingness to open one’s mind to mystical pathways and a certain level of spirituality.
She could handle that. She definitely had an open mind and she certainly believed that there was more than just what was visible to the eye. As long as the ritual didn’t include killing chickens or making some sort of blood sacrifice with a pentagram, she was okay with it.
She was also reassured to read that an exorcism was intended to banish not just demons, but any spirit that was a source of negative energy and adversely affecting your life. The article claimed that the ceremony had its roots in Native American and druid cultures, and that an average person could safely perform the ritual without the help of a priest or minister.
So far, so good. Skye pulled the legal pad toward her and wrote:
ITEMS NEEDED:
THREE OR FOUR DRIED SAGE BRANCHES
YARN OR STRING
SMALL SHOVEL OR TROWEL
ONE POUND OF SMALL-GRANULE SEA SALT
LIGHTER OR MATCHES
She had everything but the sage and the salt. The latter could probably be purchased at the grocery store, but where was she going to get sage branches? She was pretty sure they didn’t grow on trees.
The grade school’s Pupil Personnel Services meetings were always scheduled for Thursdays at seven thirty a.m. The first item on the agenda was yesterday’s situation with Alvin and Duncan. Caroline reported that both students had responded well to Skye’s suggestions. Their mothers had assured the principal that the boys would be back in the classroom that morning.
Once again, Skye had to cut her time at the elementary school short because she had promised Neva that she would deliver Junior Doozier’s assignments that morning. However, when she arrived at the junior high, there was a message from Junior’s father saying the family would be gone all day on an emergency and asking Skye to bring the homework on Friday instead.
As she got back into her car, she debated returning to the grade school, but decided that seeing the Scumble River High’s Pass Out game girls was more urgent than finishing Perry Underwood’s reevaluation. The boy had been in special education since he was three, and he was now completing fifth grade. This would be his fourth re-eval, and Skye seriously doubted there had been much change in his intellectual functioning or his processing skills. Perry’s deficiencies had always been in the areas of fluid reasoning and working memory, and while children were taught compensatory learning methods, those abilities rarely improved.
So far, Skye’s day was going incredibly well. She’d scored a win with the Alvin and Duncan issue, and had been able to delay her trip to Doozierland. Would she be three for three and make it through the lobby at the high school without Homer pouncing on her?
Yes! The principal was nowhere in sight when Skye entered the building. She held her breath as she stopped at the front counter to sign in and grab her mail. Quickly scooping up the contents of her box, she speed-walked down the hall and secured herself behind her office door.
Adding to her sense of well-being, the last permission form from the parents of the Pass Out game girls was among the papers in her box. After getting what she needed from her tote bag and locking it in her desk drawer, Skye turned on her computer and clicked through until she found the student schedules.
Her luck was holding. All eleven girls had eighth period study hall together. Skye wrote passes for them, dropped them off for Opal to distribute, and left Homer a note explaining her plans.
The bell rang as she walked back to her office, and she checked her watch. It was ten twenty-five, third hour had just ended, and Trixie’s planning period was fourth. Deciding, for once, to take the fifteen-minute break she was entitled to according to her contract, Skye headed to the library. It was time to tell her best friend that she had finally set her wedding date, and to ask her to be her matron of honor.
After a detour to the staff lounge to buy a couple of sodas, Skye found Trixie in the library’s storeroom sitting on a stool pulled up to the worktable and typing away on her laptop. Several books were piled around her, including Writing the Modern Mystery, Deadly Doses, and Self-Editing for Fiction Writers.
Trixie didn’t notice Skye until she cleared her throat. As if coming back from another world, Trixie looked up from the keyboard, and said, “Why haven’t I seen you since Monday?” She clicked the SAVE button and demanded, “What’s been happening w
ith the murder and with the girls involved in that Pass Out game?”
“Sorry.” Skye hugged her friend. “During the day all three schools have had crises for me to deal with, and I’ve spent most of my evenings interviewing suspects with Wally. Not that we’re getting anywhere.”
“How about the girls?” Trixie asked, shutting down her computer and twisting to face Skye. “Ashley said it was the first time they had tried the game, and they couldn’t quite figure out how to do it since they all panicked when one of them started to lose consciousness. She promised me they wouldn’t try it again.”
“I’m talking to the other girls this afternoon.” Skye took a seat and handed Trixie a can of A&W Root Beer. “Did you believe Ashley?”
“Maybe.” Trixie popped the top of the soda and took a long swig. “But I told her if I found out she or any of the cheerleaders were ever involved in something like that again, they were off the squad.”
“Good.” Skye opened her Diet Coke and sipped. “Hopefully if the cheerleaders don’t play, the others won’t, either.”
“So, nothing on the murder?” Trixie got up and rummaged through a cupboard. “I heard the best suspect has disappeared. What’s up with that?”
“First, I’m not convinced Elijah is the killer.” Skye took the packet of peanut butter wafers Trixie handed her. “And second, there are still at least two or three other good suspects that don’t have an alibi, so I really hope everyone doesn’t convict him before he even has a chance to explain himself.”
“But since the ex-doc ran away, isn’t that almost like a confession?”
“No.” Skye tore open the cellophane and selected a cracker. “In fact, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if Elijah witnessed the murder and the real murderer lured him somewhere and killed him.”
Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery Page 16