Skye sucked in a breath. Heather clearly didn’t realize she had admitted to being the last person to see Logan alive. Except for his murderer. Unless they were one and the same.
CHAPTER 20
Stairway to Heaven
Monday morning was never one of Skye’s favorite times of the week, and this one was turning out to be worse than most. After stopping and saying hi to Simon and Bunny at the bowling alley Sunday night, she’d spent the rest of the evening at home fretting about how to tell Wally about Heather’s presence in the gym at the time of the fire. She did not want to speak to him again after their nasty conversation that morning.
Finally she had compromised and written him a note detailing her chat with Heather. She disguised her handwriting on the front of the envelope, in case Darleen saw it before Wally did, and dropped it at the police station on her way into work.
Skye was scheduled to be at the elementary school that morning to teach social skills in the kindergarten classrooms. She had just finished explaining about listening and had started the kids role-playing what they had learned when the PA announced, “Miss Denison, please report to the office.”
As she hurried to the front of the building, she wondered what more could go wrong. She’d already had a student wet his pants during the session on sharing, and during the lesson on taking turns another kid had tugged on the skirt of her dress so hard that it had ripped at the waist. Currently two safety pins were all that was holding Skye together.
She rounded the corner into the office and stopped dead in her tracks. The school nurse was standing in the doorway to the health room wearing rubber gloves and holding a comb. That could only mean one thing—and it wasn’t that Scumble River Elementary School was opening up a beauty salon. The school had an outbreak of lice!
Skye tried to back out of the office, but the principal had snuck up behind her and blocked her escape. “Oh, no, you don’t. We’re all in this together.”
Three hours later, the nurse, the principal, the school secretary, and Skye had examined over six hundred heads—including each other’s. Sixteen students had been sent home, three mothers were hysterical, and a first year teacher was threatening to quit.
At one o’clock, the principal finally agreed that Skye could leave, and she headed over to the junior high.
Neva Llewellyn, the principal there, was pacing in front of the door when Skye came up the sidewalk. “What took you so long? You left the elementary fifteen minutes ago.”
“I went through the McDonald’s drive-thru and picked up something to eat.” Skye held up the familiar brown bag.
“We don’t have time for that now.” Neva grabbed the sack and tossed it into a garbage can, then seized Skye’s arm and pulled her inside. “Cletus Doozier is on the roof claiming he can fly.”
“Yikes!” Skye trotted beside Neva, who had made a sharp left and then headed up the stairs. “Who’s with him?”
“Ursula, and counseling is not her strong suit, so hurry.” Ursula was the school secretary, and her idea of empathy was to tell a depressed child to snap out of it.
“Have you called 911?” Skye shook off Neva’s hand and paused to catch her breath—she really had to get back to swimming soon.
“The fire department is on its way, but I doubt any of the volunteers are trained for this. The dispatcher is tracking down Chief Boyd.”
Skye caught up as the older woman pushed open the door to the boys’ room.
“Why are we going in here?” Skye asked, panting.
“There’s a ladder up to the roof out this window.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea, but I noticed it when I took over as principal.” Neva gestured to a milk crate pushed against the wall under the open window. “Never had to use it before though.”
Scumble River Junior High was the oldest of the three school buildings—it had originally been the high school—and the architecture was by far the oddest.
“Isn’t there another way up there?” Skye cringed as she pictured herself scaling the outside of the school in a dress.
“There are stairs, but he’s blocked the door somehow. I’ve got the custodian working on it.” Neva pointed. “Just swing your foot a little to the side when you climb out and the ladder is right there.”
Skye hesitated. “Is this how Ursula got up there?”
“Yes.” Neva pushed her forward. “Hurry, before he jumps.”
Skye kicked off her pumps and stepped up on the crate, then put a knee on the windowsill. “You’re positive this is the only way up there?”
“I’m sure,” Neva insisted.
Skye groaned and hoisted herself to a sitting position in the opening. The metal ladder attached to the side of the building was where Neva had promised it would be. Skye scooted as close to it as she could, grabbed it with her left hand, and swung out on to it.
For a long moment she swayed, not fully on the rung. Finally she steadied herself and started to climb. As soon as she could see over the top she stopped. Cletus was facing the opposite side flapping his arms. Like his Uncle Elvis, he was small for his age and could easily pass for several years younger than his true thirteen. He’d had a rough life. His mother was dead and his father was in jail. He lived with his Uncle Earl.
Ursula stood to his right, her arms crossed, shivering. She was dressed only in a knit pantsuit.
Skye crawled over the parapet. The gravelly texture of the flat roof dug into her stocking feet, which were already freezing. The wind blew in gusts, and she was thankful she had never had a chance to take off her coat.
She didn’t want to scare the boy, so she called in a low, steady voice, “Cletus, it’s Ms. Denison. Are you all right?”
He looked her way with an unfocused gaze. “I’m Superman. I’m a bird; I’m a plane.” He ran in a tight circle and flapped his arms. He had a gym towel tied around his neck like a cape.
Skye edged up to Ursula, who looked blue from the cold, and whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you go inside and warm up? I’ll take over.”
Ursula frowned and shook her head. “I think I should stay.”
“What we really need is for you to try to unblock the door. I think I hear the fire engines.” When Ursula nodded and turned to leave, Skye added, “And make sure someone has called Earl.”
Cletus seemed unaware of the adults, almost as if he were watching a movie playing in his head.
Skye had no idea what to do. Should she talk to him? Try to grab him? They hadn’t covered this situation in her school psychology training and she doubted it was in the Best Practices manual.
Cletus had stopped circling and was examining the ledge that went around the roof. It was about three feet high and twelve inches wide.
Skye felt her throat close. She had to do something before he crawled on top and jumped off. Her mind raced and she snatched the first idea that came to her.
She stepped closer and said, “Superman, it’s me, Lois Lane. You can’t fly from this roof. Lex Luther planted Kryptonite up here.”
Cletus looked at her. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good work, Lois.” He nodded and moved back from the edge. “We gotta go find another roof.”
Skye took his hand and subtly directed him toward the door. Ursula was just removing the last of several pennies Cletus had stuffed around the lock and between the door and the frame.
The door immediately swung open and the fire chief burst through, followed closely by Wally.
Before the men could speak, Skye said, “Superman has agreed to find another roof since this one is contaminated with Kryptonite. Please step aside and let him through. He’s in a hurry to save the world.”
The men silently made a path, and Skye and Cletus walked out.
As they went down the stairs, Cletus said, “No offense, Lois, but ain’t you put on a little weight?”
Skye, Neva, Wally, and Charlie had gathered in Neva’s office. Earl had shown up in time to a
ccompany Cletus to the hospital in an ambulance. They were waiting to hear word of his condition. In the meantime Charlie was sharing his frustration.
“What in blue blazes is going on around here?” he thundered. “I was watching my afternoon programs when I heard the emergency call to the junior high on the police scanner.” He wiped his face with a large white handkerchief. “First the fire, now this. What’s next? A riot at the grade school?”
Skye figured this was not the time to mention the lice outbreak at the elementary school, and no one else said anything either.
Finally, Wally glanced at Skye, then cleared his throat. “This is not to leave the room.”
They all nodded.
“Sunday I received some information about possible increased availability of methamphetamine in the area. Officer Quirk and I have been following up on that lead ever since and have confirmed that report. We’ve talked to several neighboring police departments and the county sheriff. They too are experiencing an increase in the use of this drug.”
Charlie asked, “So, you think it’s all connected—the murder, the fire, and the sudden crazy behavior among the students?”
“That’s our working theory.”
Neva spoke thoughtfully from her seat behind her desk. “Judging from today’s incident, it seems as if the drug has infiltrated the junior high as well as the high school.”
“Except for Cletus, have you had any other bizarre incidents?” Skye asked.
“No. None of which I’m aware.”
“Then maybe Cletus is the first.” Skye ran through the last week’s events in her head. “His uncle, Elvis, was part of the teenage group that caused a problem at the bowling alley Friday night, and I’d bet my next season’s clothes budget that he was high on something. So, if that’s true, it would be reasonable to assume that Cletus got the meth from Elvis, so he might be the conduit into the junior high.”
“I’ve sent Quirk to the hospital to talk to Cletus.” Wally headed for the door. “I’ll radio for him to question Earl, too, and I’ll talk to the rest of the family myself.”
Neva, Skye, and Charlie watched the chief leave, sinking into a brooding silence until the hospital called at four-fifteen and confirmed that Cletus had indeed taken methamphetamine but would be fine once the effects of the drug wore off.
There was a familiar looking pickup in Skye’s driveway when she got home. Sighing, she parked the Bel Air and cut the engine. She really didn’t feel like dealing with anyone else today. She wanted supper—having lost her lunch to the trash can—a bath, and a good book. But most of all she wanted to be alone.
But what she wanted and what she was actually going to get were two different things. As soon as she got out of the car, Justin and Frannie emerged from the truck and met her at her front steps.
Justin spoke first. “Ms. D., do you have a minute?”
There was no way she could turn away the teens so she said, “Sure. Come on in.” Skye ushered the kids inside and hung their coats on the hall bench.
Bingo took one look at the teens and disappeared into the bedroom. He had met Justin and Frannie before, but who could tell with cats?
“Have a seat.” Skye gestured toward the great room. “Would you like a pop?”
They nodded and she detoured to the kitchen. As she poured glasses of soda and emptied a bag of potato chips into a bowl, she noticed the message light on her answering machine was blinking. Wearily she shook her head. Whoever it was would have to wait.
Skye put the tray on the coffee table and once everyone was served, Justin said, “I think we’ve got a lead on where the meth is coming from.”
“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to investigate that,” Skye protested.
His shoulders twitched in what might have been a shrug. “We didn’t really investigate.” He shot a fleeting look at Frannie. “At least not at first.”
Skye took a handful of chips—she was starving—and before stuffing them into her mouth said, “So what happened?”
“Well, at first, I just wanted to know more about meth, so I went online.”
Skye nodded, her mouth full.
“There was all kinds of info on meth. Everything from how users behave to how to manufacture it.”
She swallowed. “Really?” Skye could use a computer’s word-processing programs, but since she didn’t have access to the Web on a regular basis, she had never learned how to use it to get information. The few computers that were available at the schools were old and not hooked up to go online. “You mean anyone could find out how to make an illegal substance just by looking on the computer?”
“Yeah.” Justin took a gulp of soda. “But the best Web site was the one that told what to look for if you suspected someone was making meth.”
“What did it say?”
“I think it was meant for someone who thought their neighbor had a meth lab, because it talked about checking their garbage for empty boxes of cold medicine and discarded watch batteries. Also, for used cans of automotive starter fluid with holes punched in the sides.”
“Interesting, but there’s not much you could do with that info unless you had a suspect.” Skye hoped Justin hadn’t been poking around Scumble River’s trash.
“That’s what I thought, too. But then it dawned on me. Not only would they have to throw the used-up packages away, they’d have to buy it to begin with. And where would you get that kind of stuff?”
“A drug store,” Skye speculated.
“Buzz. You couldn’t buy enough without people wondering what you were up to.”
“True.” The owner of the local pharmacy employed his mother as a clerk, and anything one bought there immediately became the cause of much speculation among the rest of the little old ladies in town. Needless to say the store did not do a big business in condoms or home pregnancy tests.
“So, where would you go?” Justin took another swig of soda, then answered his own question. “A big store a few towns over where people didn’t know you and you didn’t have to check out with the same clerk every time.”
“Wal-Mart in Laurel,” Skye deduced.
“That was my guess.” Justin beamed. “My next question was who from here worked there and would be willing to talk to me?”
“How did you find someone?” Skye asked.
“Well, I knew the high school had a vocational program and that some of the juniors and seniors worked part of the day instead of going to school, so I asked the teacher if any of them worked at Wal-Mart.” Justin was clearly enjoying himself.
“And …” Skye wished Justin would get to the point, but she couldn’t deny the boy his pleasure. He had been extremely clever.
“And a couple did, but they were girls, so I asked Frannie to talk to them.” Justin blushed. “I didn’t know if they’d tell me anything or just think I was hitting on them.”
“So Frannie approached them, and they told you what?” Skye turned to the girl.
“I asked them if they remembered anyone buying a lot of cold medicine, batteries, and/or starter fluid. They hadn’t, but one said she’d ask the other clerks—the ones who aren’t students and work there full-time.” Frannie paused to eat some chips.
“And?” Skye’s patience was wearing thin.
“And the girl who works there told me this morning that another clerk said one guy used to come in all the time for the entire shopping list, and he always made a point to check out at his wife’s register, even if she had a long line.”
“Who was it?”
“The dead guy,” Frannie answered. “Logan Wolfe. His wife was fired about a month ago, and everyone thought she must have been letting him get by without paying.”
“No one knew for sure?”
“No,” Frannie answered. “But the clerk said she hadn’t seen him at the store since his wife was sacked.”
“Was there ever anyone with him?”
Frannie nodded. “The clerk said a couple of times his brother came along.�
��
Skye frowned. She was pretty sure Logan was an only child. “How did she know it was his brother?”
“She said they looked alike, except his brother had real short hair.”
Skye tucked that piece of information away and asked, “I know it’s only been a little over a week, but have you noticed any less availability of the meth since Logan was killed?”
Justin shook his head. “Not that I noticed.” He looked at Frannie. “How about you?”
“I don’t hang out with the kids who use, so it’s hard to say.”
“I see.” Skye quickly considered the situation. She had to tell Wally what the teens had found. “What’s the name of the clerk who recognized Logan?”
“The girl wouldn’t tell me. She had promised to keep her out of it,” Frannie answered. “And I promised not to tell her name.”
“Great,” Skye muttered. Wally was going to have a cow when she couldn’t give him names. “You know Logan’s dead. He can’t hurt the clerk or your friend.”
“It’s the druggies at school she’s scared of.” Frannie looked at Skye as if she had grown another head. “And do you really believe a meth lab is run by only one person?”
Skye had no idea. She clearly had to do some research before she went any further. Almost to herself, she said, “I wish I knew how much meth was made in a batch and how long that supply might last.”
Justin answered her, “It varies, depending on the lab.” He reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a bunch of crumpled papers. “Here. I printed out the stuff I found on the Web. I figured you’d want to read it.”
“Thanks.” Skye smoothed the sheets.
Frannie stood up. “I gotta get the truck back to my dad. He needs it to go to work in a little while.”
“Okay.” Justin got to his feet.
Skye followed them to the foyer. “I really appreciate the information you found out, but don’t do any more digging, okay? It’s just too dangerous. I’ll let Chief Boyd know what you discovered, and he’ll take it from mere.”
Justin and Frannie nodded, and Skye hoped they had really heard what she said.
Murder of a Pink Elephant Page 18