Murder of a Pink Elephant

by Denise Swanson

  “You’ll want to do something about it.”

  “If I promise not to care, will you tell me?” Skye frowned. The last time Vince kept something important from her, he was in major trouble.

  “You’ll want to sit everyone down for a counseling session.”

  “Fine. Be like that.” Skye started toward the door. “But someone in this town knows and will eventually tell me.”

  Vince sighed. “Logan and Rod had a fight last night after our gig at the Dew Drop Inn. I stepped in to break it up and got sucker punched. It’s no big deal.”

  “What were they fighting about?”

  “Nothing important. Logan was drunk, and Rod should have just walked away. He knows you should never argue with an idiot. They drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.”

  “Then why the big secret?” Skye asked.

  “It’s not good for the band’s rep for people to think we aren’t pals.”

  Skye thought that over before saying, “That makes sense. People like to hold on to their illusions, and one of the bigger fantasies is that playing in a rock and roll band is all about buddies having a good time and hanging out together.”

  “Exactly.” Vince smiled thinly. “And most of the time that’s what it is, but then something comes up, and wham, there goes the fun.”

  “So what came up between Rod and Logan?”

  Vince shrugged. “It’s settled. Forget it.”

  Skye decided to back off for now. Instead she asked, “You guys are still playing tonight for the high school Valentine Ball, right?”

  “Sure. Everything’s cool.”

  “What time do you have to get there?”

  “About five to set up.”

  “It takes you two hours to get organized?” Skye asked.

  “Not exactly. We’ll be mostly ready in an hour; then we’ll do a sound check and make the adjustments. After that we take a dinner break before we start playing.”

  “I never realized how much time you guys put into it before you even officially start.” Skye hadn’t really paid much attention to Vince’s band before. She kissed her brother on the cheek and said, “I’ve got to go. I have a ton of errands to run, and I have to be at the school early, too. I have to supervise the last minute details for the dance.” She was halfway out the door when she said, “I sure hope Rod and Logan behave themselves tonight. Fighting in front of the kids would be a problem.”

  “If Logan pulls a stunt like last night’s again, there won’t be any need to fight because I’ll kill him.”

  When Skye arrived at six that evening, the high school lot contained two cars. The one wedged between the Dumpsters she recognized as the night custodian’s, but the bright red Town Car parked in the handicapped space was unfamiliar. Skye frowned. No one was supposed to be in the building yet. She nosed the Bel Air into a slot, grabbed her purse and tote bag, and walked over to the Lincoln.

  It didn’t have handicapped plates or a tag hanging from its mirror. Her irritation grew. This type of flouting of the rules was one of her pet peeves, and she felt the need to take some action. She wished she could give the idiot a ticket. Suddenly an idea came to her and she pulled a pen and pad of paper from her tote bag. On it she wrote STUPIDITY IS NOT A HANDICAP. PARK ELSEWHERE! and tucked the note under the windshield wiper.

  Turning, she strode up the front steps, unlocked the door, and went inside. The interior was dark and there was an odor of chalk and sweat as she walked between the beat-up yellow lockers edging the hall. Although she wore sneakers— she’d change into dress shoes once the dance started—she could still hear the echo of her footsteps on the threadbare lime-green carpeting.

  A metal gate that folded out of the wall separated the gym from the rest of the school. Students attending the dance would enter through the gym door, and the rest of the building would be off limits. Skye inserted her key into the lock and slipped past the barrier, carefully refastening it behind her.

  The gymnasium was dark when she entered, and she immediately began to flip on the lights. She could see that Pink Elephant had been and gone, since there were instruments and amps spread across the stage at the back of the gym. The night custodian must have let them into the building to set up.

  Skye was hanging up her coat on one of the portable racks set against the front wall when she heard knocking. She crossed the polished wood floor and opened the outer door, fixing it so it would remain unlocked. The student dance committee poured through the entrance, talking and laughing.

  Skye greeted them. “Hi, guys. It looks like we’re the early birds.” There were supposed to be four chaperones besides Skye. She wondered whom the superintendent had ordered to take Homer’s place. “Why don’t you hang out for a few minutes, and I’ll see what we need to do?”

  The kids nodded and drifted off into a corner, chatting.

  While Skye was scanning her list, Trixie came in. The usual bounce was lacking from her footsteps, and she sighed as she hung her jacket next to Skye’s.

  Trixie said, “Owen decided not to come tonight. He’s got all our financial papers spread out across the dining room table, and he’s trying to find the money we need to pay his mom’s bills.”

  Skye murmured how sorry she was for her troubles, then added, “Simon won’t be here either. He has a wake scheduled for tonight. Who buries their loved ones on Valentine’s Day?”

  Trixie shrugged. “I see the other chaperones aren’t here yet. I guess we better get the kids organized.”

  Skye took charge of the refreshments. Justin Boward was among the kids who had volunteered for that job, and she wondered what he was up to. A school dance was not something he would normally choose to participate in, but Justin often managed to surprise her.

  He had changed a lot since the first time she saw him for counseling in eighth grade. He was now nearly six feet tall, and although still skinny, he showed signs of growing into a more solid build. He had recently gotten new wire-rimmed glasses, so his expressive brown eyes were no longer hidden behind the thick lenses of his old horn-rimmed pair.

  Nathan Turner had also signed up to help with refreshments. Skye’d had a few run-ins with his obnoxious father that past November, but things seemed tolerable between them now. She really didn’t know Nathan beyond the superficial facts that he was a handsome, athletic boy who seemed to have the world in the pocket of his school letterman’s jacket. He, too, was not the usual committee volunteer.

  Skye put the kids to work setting out cups and napkins and arranging cookies on the silver trays the PTO mothers had lent them. Next on her to-do list was the punch.

  Technically, one of the other chaperones, Ace Cramer, was assigned to the drinks. He was supposed to bring the bags of ice in his cooler, since there was no freezer readily available. But since he hadn’t arrived yet, Skye figured they might as well get started. They had stored the other ingredients in the RE. teachers’ office.

  Skye said, “Justin, Nathan, how about helping me carry some stuff?”

  Both boys nodded and followed her to Ace’s office. She tried to turn the knob but it was locked. Suddenly a large hand covered hers and she jumped.

  Ace Cramer wore his usual genial smile, but his cobalt blue eyes were cold. “Whoa there, Ms. D.,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Skye managed to smile back, although her heart was still racing. “We were just coming for the punch ingredients. It was getting a little late, and I thought we should get started since there is so much of it to make.”

  “Sorry.” He ran his hand over his white-blond buzz cut. “They were out of ice at the Brown Bag, and I had to go to the gas station by the highway to find enough sacks.”

  “No problem.” Skye stepped aside. “But let’s get going.”

  Ace fumbled for his key, then unlocked the door. “Sure.”

  Justin and Nathan began hauling out cans of fruit juice and bottles of ginger ale. Skye started to return to the gym to see how the other committees
were doing but glanced back into the office. Ace was sitting at his desk watching the boys work. She shrugged; maybe not pitching in and helping was a coach thing.

  Trixie had assigned the other kids to various tasks around the gym. A couple of girls were on duty at the photo backdrop. They would collect the money, keep a record of the names, and help position the couples getting their pictures taken. Others were putting fresh flower centerpieces donated by Stybr Florist on the tables.

  Seated by the door, ready to sell tickets, was Bitsy Kessler. She looked like her normal self tonight, and Skye wondered if she had been mistaken about the girl’s altered state Friday afternoon.

  Next to her was Frannie Ryan. She was the daughter of Xavier, Simon’s assistant at the funeral home, and she and Skye had been through a lot together in the past year. Skye was exceptionally fond of both Frannie and Justin.

  Regrettably, Frannie and Bitsy did not feel that way about each other. Frannie was extremely bright and had difficulty tolerating those who were less intellectually gifted. Bitsy, on the other hand, could flirt the net off a basketball hoop and had recently been targeting Justin as her next beau. This did not sit well with Frannie, who also had her eye on Justin as boyfriend material.

  Trixie had probably put the girls together thinking they would sort out their differences if they worked side by side. Skye wasn’t as optimistic, but it was too late to change things now.

  Skye checked the clock. Five to seven. Just enough time to visit the bathroom to comb her hair, freshen her makeup, and change her shoes before the hordes arrived. She was applying a coat of red amber to her lips when she heard a dull thud, a loud boom, and then angry voices. She dropped the lipstick tube into her purse and hurried out into the gym.

  Logan Wolfe and Finn O’Malley were standing at the bottom of the steps to the stage shoving each other and swearing. Sheet music and other gear were scattered at their feet.

  As Skye stepped forward, intending to try and calm down the vocalist and the keyboard player, Rod Yager and Vince came around the corner and waded into the fray.

  The band had arrived.

  CHAPTER 5

  What’s Love Got to Do with It?

  “What were they fighting about?” Skye asked Vince. He and Rod had managed to separate Logan and Finn, and the musicians were now busy making last-minute adjustments to their equipment on the stage.

  Without looking up, Vince shrugged, then continued to tweak his drum set.

  “Don’t shrug at me, Vince Denison. Last night, Logan and Rod got into a scuffle and you ended up getting hurt. Now he and Finn are seconds away from coming to blows. What’s going on with the band?” Skye put her hands on her hips. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

  “It’s fine.” Vince didn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”

  The thought of trying to explain to the superintendent, who already didn’t like Skye, why her brother’s band had started a brawl at the Valentine’s Day Dance made her tremble. “Vince, I recommended your group to the school. If there’s a problem, I’m the one who will have to face the wrath of Superintendent Wraige.”

  “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.” Vince flicked a look at the other musicians. “Ready to start?” They all nodded and he raised his drumstick.

  Skye turned on her heels, exasperated by her brother’s refusal to blab. Even though Vince was the older sibling, Skye had always been the one to help him out of his messes. His closed-mouth attitude about the band worried her. What had Vince gotten himself into?

  She moved toward the tables scattered around the gym’s perimeter. It was seven-fifteen, and the Valentine’s Ball had officially begun. Teens thronged the entrance and poured inside. Many came in couples, dressed in long dresses and nice suits. Others arrived in groups, wearing less formal attire; and a few turned up by themselves, slinking in and not venturing much past the entrance.

  Skye found Trixie at a table talking to one of the other chaperones. She joined the two women and said, “Anyone have an idea of what we could do to include the kids who are currently trying to pretend they’re wallpaper?”

  “Could we ask some of the other kids to invite them to join their groups?” Trixie suggested.

  Will that make things worse or better? Skye wondered. It would depend on the group. They’d have to choose carefully. “Okay, let’s try a couple. It isn’t as if we have anything else to do for the next several hours, unless you two were planning on dancing.”

  The three paused a moment and listened to the music. It was shockingly loud, and the lyrics to the song were indecipherable, which was probably just as well. Both women shook their heads. They wouldn’t be dancing to that. Shouting to be heard above the din, they agreed on a plan, and each set out to see if they could persuade a more popular teen to invite one of the outsiders into their group.

  Skye had noticed a boy who had approached her recently about joining the newspaper staff, so she went to find Justin and see if he’d cooperate in Operation “No Teen Left Standing Alone.”

  The lights were down low, which made it difficult to locate people, but Skye finally spotted Justin and explained her request as best she could over the pounding bass. He nodded and headed toward the boy she pointed out.

  As Skye was making her way back to the table, she saw her godfather, Charlie Patukas, standing with his arms crossed staring at the dance floor, a scowl on his face. At six feet tall and three hundred pounds, he was an imposing figure.

  She tapped him on the shoulder. “Uncle Charlie, what are you doing here?”

  Charlie swung around, his thick white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. “That dang fool Homer called in sick, and the superintendent was out of town, so as president of the school board I was next in line.”

  Skye debated a second, then pulled Charlie aside and told him what had caused Homer’s sudden illness. She hated to be a snitch, but in case Mr. Yoder tried to pull something in retaliation for his son’s suspension, Charlie needed to be forewarned. The last time a Yoder offspring had been suspended, graduation had almost been ruined.

  “If brains were dynamite, Homer wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose,” Charlie said, his scowl deepening. “Yoder better not try anything. I still owe him for hurting you when his other no-good kid got into trouble.”

  Skye tried to defend the principal and the younger Yoder boy, but Charlie interrupted her, shouting, “The music’s too damn loud. I can hardly hear you. They need to turn it down.”

  He took a step toward the stage, but Skye grabbed his arm. “It is too loud, but the kids like it that way. Let’s talk out here.” She tugged him toward the door to the hall, searching for a topic to distract him. “Do you know anything about Logan Wolfe?”

  Charlie scratched his head. “He lives on Hines out between the Leofanti property and the Fraynes’ farm on the next road. His father died when he was young and left him the house and forty acres. Why?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute.” Skye didn’t want to tell Charlie about the band fighting, but her godfather knew almost as much as her mother did about everyone in town, and Skye wanted to know more about Logan. She’d have to come up with some excuse for her curiosity. “How does he make a living? Does he farm?”

  “He puts in a crop, but on a good year he’d only make about ten thousand before expenses.”

  Skye thought of Logan’s rock-star appearance and tried to imagine him dressed in overalls and a straw hat. “So, then, does he have another job?”

  “Nothing steady.” Charlie leaned against the wall. “He gives guitar lessons, and I’ve heard recently he’s been doing some solo singing appearances.”

  “Mmm.” Maybe that was what the band was fighting about. Did the group have some sort of agreement not to perform without the other members?

  “Why all the interest in Logan? He’s married, you know.”

  “Great, because I’m not looking to date him.” Skye searched for a reason to explain her sudden interest. “I
t’s just that Vince is spending a lot of time with this band, and I wanted to know a little about the kind of people they are.”

  Charlie didn’t look convinced, but before he could question her further, the door swung out and Frannie Ryan burst through.

  “Ms. D., Mrs. Frayne says for you to come right away. There’s a problem.” The girl whirled around without stopping to see if Skye was following her and disappeared back into the gym.

  Immediately, Skye pushed through the doors, intent on not losing sight of Frannie. For a moment, the dimness of the gym compared to the bright hallway, coupled with the earsplitting music, made Skye feel disorientated, but she took a deep breath and kept moving.

  Frannie was heading toward the back of the gym. Skye caught up to her just as she reached the entrance to the boy’s locker room where Trixie was standing.

  Skye said breathlessly, “What’s up?”

  Trixie put her lips near Skye’s ear and said, “Nathan Turner is in there.”

  “How’d he get in? The door’s supposed to be locked,” demanded Charlie who’d caught up with them.

  “I don’t know.” Trixie leaned closer to Skye and explained, “I was patrolling the edge of the dance floor and saw him go in, but when I tried to follow, the door wouldn’t budge.”

  “Have you tried knocking?” Charlie’s face was getting red. He didn’t take frustration well.

  “Of course.” Trixie shot the older man a scathing look. “But we don’t want to be too obvious, since we’d rather the other kids don’t find out about this.”

  “Good thinking.” Skye was almost afraid to ask her next question. She had never seen Trixie in such a bad mood. “Uh, you’ve probably already called for the night janitor to bring his key, right?”

  Trixie nodded. “He doesn’t answer his phone.”

  Skye thought quickly. “Ace is the gym teacher. He would have a key. Where is he?”

  Trixie took off at a run. She returned a few seconds later gripping Ace by the arm. They explained the situation and he unlocked the door.