Murder of a Pink Elephant

by Denise Swanson

  As Frannie’s father climbed into the ambulance, Simon clapped him on the back. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’m going with you.” Skye started toward Simon’s car.

  The fire chief grabbed her arm. “You can’t leave. You have some questions to answer first.”

  Simon paused. “Do you want me to wait?”

  Before she could answer, a firefighter ran up to the chief and announced, “We found a body.”

  The chief turned to Simon. “Looks like you’re stuck here too.”

  Simon scowled. “I’ll go get the hearse.” He turned to Skye. “Are you okay?”

  When she nodded, he kissed her on the cheek and hurried off.

  Skye sat in a classroom at the junior high, huddled under a blanket sipping oversugared coffee, watching the fire chief and Wally argue. Her eyes kept drifting closed, only to jerk awake as her head sagged forward onto her chest. It was three o’clock in the morning, her head hurt from her fall, and they wouldn’t let her go home. Even worse, no one would tell her the identity of the body or how he or she had been killed.

  First she had told her story of finding Frannie to the fire chief, then to Wally, then to the fire chief again. Neither man seemed satisfied with her explanation of why she went back into the burned building, but at least Wally wasn’t looking at her like he thought she might be an arsonist. Of course, Skye and Wally had a past; she and the fire chief didn’t.

  Skye and Wally’s complicated history included a teenage crush on Skye’s part and an ex-wife on Wally’s. But for the past six months, since Skye and Simon had hooked up, she and Wally had maintained a façade of friendship.

  Wally must have won the dispute, because the fire chief stomped away and Wally rejoined Skye. Before he could open his mouth she asked, “Any news on Frannie?”

  “No. I sent someone to talk to her, but the doctor isn’t letting anyone except her father see her.” Wally pulled up a student desk and sat on the table part. “What made you think Frannie was still inside the high school? You knew the firefighters had checked out the building.”

  “Desperation.” Skye shrugged. “Matter of elimination.”

  “Huh?”

  “Frannie was not at the junior high with the other kids who made it out safely. She hadn’t gone home; her dad had checked. She hadn’t been one of the few hurt and taken to hospital by ambulance. Where could she be?” A stubborn look settled on Skye’s features. “And I knew she wasn’t dead.”

  “So why didn’t you ask one of the firefighters to look again?”

  “I did.” Skye got up and stretched. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I’m sure they all thought they’d eventually find her body.”

  “What made you go into the boy’s locker room?”

  “I thought I saw something through the windows of the pool enclosure so I went inside. Then I heard a muffled voice and followed it. The locker was rattling, so I opened it and there was Frannie.” Skye crossed her arms. “What I want to know is who put her into the locker and why.”

  “Good questions.” Wally rotated his neck; furrows of exhaustion were etched in his handsome face. “Any guesses?”

  “I think she must have seen something she shouldn’t have and got knocked on the head and put in the locker to keep her quiet.”

  “I was thinking along those lines, too,” Wally agreed.

  “Is the police officer that’s at the hospital aware she may be in danger?”

  Wally nodded. “He knows she’s a potential witness.” Wally flipped open his notebook. “And speaking of that, when you were pushing her in that chair across the gym, you said you heard a noise backstage, but that wasn’t where the body was found. Any idea why that might be?”

  “How in the heck should I know?” She was tired and cranky and had had enough. “You won’t tell me who the dead person is or where he or she was found. What do you want me to do, read my crystal ball?”

  “We have to notify next of kin,” Wally said evasively, ignoring her bad temper. “What type of noise did you hear?”

  “A noise. Maybe a thump.” Skye scrunched up her face and tried to recreate the incident in her mind. “I just don’t know.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “No.” Skye hesitated. “But if Frannie was in the locker, who or what did I see earlier by the pool?”

  “My question exactly.”

  “I’m too tired to think.” Skye glanced down. “My dress is in shreds, I’m wearing a filthy hunting jacket, and I reek of smoke. Maybe if I had a shower and some sleep I’d be more helpful—or at least coherent.”

  “You’re right.” Wally sighed. “Come talk to me tomorrow morning.”

  “It is tomorrow morning.” Skye took her keys from her purse and moved toward the door. “And I have a feeling we’re in for a bad time. People are going to freak out at the idea of someone trying to burn down a school with a couple hundred kids inside.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t an accidental fire?” Wally’s face was expressionless.

  “I heard the firefighters talking about finding cans of starter fluid.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean the fire was deliberately set.”

  “Right. And there really is an Easter Bunny that lays colored eggs.” Skye added over her shoulder as she left, “If that’s the story you’re going to tell people, tomorrow should be an extremely interesting day.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Whole Lot of Shakin’ Goin’ On

  When Skye arrived home, light spilled out from every window of her cottage, and vehicles crammed the driveway. Just what she needed—her family and friends waiting to pounce on her with their concern.

  Their cars gave them away. The white Olds belonged to her parents, Uncle Charlie drove the Cadillac, and her brother owned the Jeep. Trixie’s Mustang rounded out the group.

  Skye blew out an exasperated breath and trudged up the sidewalk. What would happen if instead of going inside, she turned around and headed to Simon’s? The thought of her family’s reaction if she went missing kept her moving forward.

  As she stepped through the front door, the sound of snoring greeted her. She crept forward and peeked into the great room. They were all asleep. Uncle Charlie had claimed the recliner, her father the sofa, and May was in the captain’s chair with her feet up on the coffee table. Vince and Trixie were sprawled on the floor, Bingo curled up at Trixie’s side. He opened one eye, looked at Skye, and meowed.

  Bingo’s greeting jerked May awake. She spotted Skye and shot out of the chair, sweeping her into a hug, crying and talking at the same time. “Are you all right? Why did they keep you so long? What’s happening? Who died?”

  Skye stood still and let her mother fuss. When May worked herself up to this state, she was like a Jehovah’s Witness with a caffeine problem, and there was nothing you could do but let the buzz wear off.

  The others gathered around them in various stages of wakefulness.

  Jed awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Dad.” Skye hugged her mom, kissed her father’s cheek, and then shrugged out of Charlie’s hunting jacket. “Wally and the fire chief had a lot of questions. I don’t think they know what happened yet. They aren’t giving out the name of the victim until they notify next of kin.”

  There was a split second of silence while everyone absorbed the information, and then they all started talking at once. Skye sank down on the couch clutching the jacket. Her head was spinning and she couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying.

  Trixie put her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Everyone fell abruptly silent. Trixie moved in front of Skye and put a hand on her shoulder. “She needs a shower and some rest.”

  May and Charlie frowned, but Vince nodded and started to hand out coats. When he got to his mother, May said, “I’m staying the night. I’m not leaving her alone.” Vince leaned down and whispered in her ear. She turned red, then put on her jacket. “Uh, call me the min
ute you wake up.”

  Vince was the last to leave. Just before he stepped outside Skye asked, “What did you say to Mom?”

  “I reminded her that Simon would probably stop by when he was finished with the body, and if she ever wanted grandchildren it might be a good idea if you were alone when he got here.”

  Skye swatted Vince on the bicep. “Thanks a lot. She’ll have Father Burns ready to marry us tomorrow.”

  “Hey, it took her mind off the fire and got her out of your hair for the night.”

  Skye shook her head. Vince had never been very good with the concept of future consequences, but he was excellent at living in the here and now. Grateful to be alone, she staggered to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  The hot water felt wonderful, but the stinging spray found every bruise, cut, and scrape she had sustained. And when she went to wash her hair, she discovered a lump the size of a walnut behind her ear.

  Just before crawling into bed, she called the hospital. Claiming to be Frannie’s aunt, she was able to get a report of her status: possible mild concussion but otherwise fine.

  Although exhausted, Skye slept in fits and starts, waking every hour from bad dreams and nagging thoughts. How was Frannie? Who had died? How badly damaged was the school? What did she need to do about all of the above?

  As the red digital six was replaced by the seven, she threw back the covers and got up. Bingo had been sleeping next to her and did not appreciate being disturbed. He meowed sharply and swished his tail before burrowing beneath the blanket.

  Skye dragged herself into the kitchen, filled the teakettle, and put it on the stove. It was early to start making calls on a Sunday morning, but Simon rarely slept past six, no matter how late he was up the night before. She punched in his number and listened to the rings.

  He picked up on the third one. “Simon Reid. May I help you?”

  “It’s Skye.”

  “Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was soothing.

  “I’m fine. A little stiff and sore, but considering what could have happened, I’m okay. How about you?”

  “I just got home a few minutes ago. It took a long time to process the body from the fire. But I wanted to send it to the ME as soon as possible.”

  “Do you know who the victim is yet?”

  “No.” Simon yawned. “Wally’s examining the effects and will send them on to the county lab as soon as he finishes, but everything’s pretty charred.

  “Any news on Frannie?”

  “I spoke to Xavier an hour ago. He stayed at the hospital overnight. He said she seems better. The doctor thinks most of her odd behavior was caused by shock rather than a physical injury.”

  “That’s a relief.” Skye opened two packages of Sweet’N Low and emptied the white powder into her mug. “Are they releasing her today?”

  “Xavier said they have to wait for the doctor to make his rounds, but the nurses seem to think she’ll be able to go home.”

  “Should we go over?” She placed an Earl Grey teabag in the cup and poured boiling water over it.

  “No. It sounds like she and Xavier will be home before we could get to the hospital.”

  “Has she said anything about how she got in the locker?”

  “Xavier said Quirk talked to her this morning, but she doesn’t remember anything.” Roy Quirk was Wally’s right-hand man at the Scumble River P.D.

  Skye sipped her tea, then said, “That’s probably a piece of information that should hit the gossip mills sooner rather than later. We don’t want whoever did that to her to think she can identify him.”

  “Or her.” Simon paused. “Do you want to go to eight o’clock Mass? We could get Frannie’s memory loss started along the grapevine there.”

  “You should go to bed.”

  “Is that a proposition?” His voice deepened.

  Skye felt a ripple of response. “How about later tonight, once we’ve both had a little more rest?”

  “If that’s your best offer, when should I come over?”

  “I have to go give my statement at the police station this morning, then I’m supposed to go to a brunch with my parents at two, so say six.”

  “What brunch?”

  Skye explained the mysterious invitation from Moss Gibson and concluded with, “I’d love to skip it, but I’m almost certain Mom will still want to go, and I don’t want her and Dad there alone. My instincts tell me this is some sort of con to swindle a lot of ‘country folk’ out of their money.”

  “Sounds like you better go then. See you at six.”

  Skye’s next call was to her mother. Yes, they were still planning to go to the brunch; did Skye want to ride with them?

  She declined and called Vince.

  He answered after the sixth ring, his voice thick from sleep. “What?”

  “Sorry for waking you. Did you get an invitation to brunch today from a guy named Moss Gibson?”

  “Yeah. I threw it out. Why?”

  Skye poured more water for a second cup of tea and settled back in her chair. “Mom and Dad got one too and they’re going, so I figured one or both of us should be there, too.”

  “Do you know this Moss guy?”

  “No. He’s probably selling something like time-shares or some other scam and …”

  “And Mom and Dad might be naïve enough to sign up?”

  “Right.” Skye put a piece of bread in the toaster.

  “Okay, I’ll go. You want to pick me up?”

  “Sure. It’s at two at the new country club between here and Laurel, so I’ll be over for you about one-thirty.”

  “See you then.”

  After breakfast, Skye showered and put on a simple navy coatdress with matching hose and pumps. Simon was right. Church probably was a good idea, not only for her soul, but also to hear what the town’s people were saying about the fire last night.

  As always, Mass was both soothing and uplifting. Father Burns achieved a perfect balance between concern for the fire and confidence that everything would be fine. He ended the service with his usual gentle humor by saying, “Drive carefully. Remember, it’s not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.”

  As the recessional played, Skye made her way down the aisle and joined a knot of people at the back who were exchanging opinions about the fire.

  A man dressed in polyester Levis and a plaid shirt with mother-of-pearl snaps said, “Doug Jr. says it was black as the inside of a cow once the electricity blew out. Said the generators didn’t work worth jack shit.”

  One of the women sighed. “But who would want to burn down a school with kids inside? You heard Frannie Ryan got put in a locker and near abouts burned to death?”

  Skye saw her opportunity and interjected, “Too bad she didn’t see who hit her and put her in that locker. But she never saw a thing.”

  The woman standing next to her patted her hair, which was teased and sprayed into the shape of a helmet, and added, “My Suzy said there’s a gang at school that’s running wild. One of them pulled the fire alarm Friday. I’ll bet they were trying to get the kids used to hearing it, so they would think it was a false alarm and not get out in time.”

  “I think it’s terrorists,” the man in the plaid shirt replied. “Wally should call in the FBI.”

  “That’s why they won’t tell us the name of who was killed,” stated another man with slicked-backed hair and a malicious look in his porcine eyes. “I heard it’s one of them A-rabs.”

  Voices rose as everyone in the group offered an opinion. Skye slunk away. It was time to go see Wally. He would definitely want to know that terrorists were at work in Scumble River.

  “So, the general consensus is that it’s either a group of wild kids or Arab terrorists,” Skye finished telling Wally, leaning back in her chair.

  Wally flipped open one of the files on his desk. “We’ve also gotten tips that it’s the Russian Mob and aliens.”

  “So, do the Czar and ET have alibis?”

>   “Very funny.” Wally scowled, exhibiting no hint of his usual sense of humor. “Crap like this takes up valuable time. It’s not like I have a lot of manpower.”

  Skye was concerned about how defeated Wally sounded. He sure wasn’t his usual positive self. She thought a minute, trying to come up with a lead to cheer him up. “You know, Leroy Yoder is the person you should really check out.”

  “Why?”

  “His son Arlen pulled the fire alarm at the high school Friday afternoon, which is a coincidence in itself, but you may remember that Mr. Yoder doesn’t take it very well when his kids are punished by the school, and Homer suspended Arlen.”

  “And you think Yoder might have set the fire in retaliation?” Wally asked.

  “It’s certainly a possibility. He was really ticked that Arlen wasn’t allowed to attend the dance because he was suspended.”

  “I’ll look into it, but unless he also had a grudge against the person who died in the fire, Yoder wouldn’t be our prime suspect.”

  “Are you sure he doesn’t?” Skye questioned. “He seems like the type who might hate a lot of people.”

  “Swear to keep this to yourself?”

  Skye nodded and held up her fingers in the Girl Scout oath sign.

  “Here’s the problem.” Wally got up and started to pace. “We don’t know who died in the fire. There was no ID. No one has called to say their loved one is missing. And the face was burned beyond recognition so we can’t exactly pass out pictures. All we’ve got is a couple of tattoos that we can hardly make out.”

  Skye felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Back when she was in the Peace Corps there had been a bad fire at a church where she was working. Medical personal were extremely limited, and she had been put to work tending to the victims. Burned flesh was a smell she would never forget. She usually had a strong stomach, but the mere idea of burned flesh made her gag.

  Wally stopped in front of her. “You okay?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Anyway, we’ll put out a description—height, weight, tattoos—and hope someone comes forward. But until we do, it’s pretty hard to investigate the death of a John Doe.”