“That sure doesn’t seem to be the case.” Wally shook his head. “The parking lots at both places are just as packed as they were before.”
“Okay.” Skye checked that off her mental list. “One last thing from my visit with Grandma, then I’ll move on to my thought-provoking and slightly bizarre adventures at the supermarket.”
Wally lifted a brow as he spooned caramel-covered ice cream into his mouth and motioned with his other hand for her to continue her stories.
“Do you know if Bunny is going to replace the gambling machines that were destroyed in the blast?” Skye asked, and when Wally shook his head, she said, “If she doesn’t, I’m assuming someone else would get her slot because it’s my understanding only a certain number of establishments can have video gambling in town.”
“That’s true.” Wally took a sip of his coffee. “Which is why, although Dante assures me it isn’t necessary, at some point I need to talk to Yuri Iverson. He owns a chain of video gambling cafés and is anxious to open one in Scumble River.”
“Yuri,” Skye repeated. “Ah, that’s why he was so intent on meeting with the city council tomorrow.” After Skye told Wally about her run-in with the gambling entrepreneur, she said, “I took down his license plate number, but since we know who he is, I can throw it away.” Wally nodded and she crumpled up the napkin.
Wally crossed his arms. “If this Iverson guy is only sticking around until the meeting tomorrow morning, I better have Quirk grab him up this afternoon for a chat.” Wally reached for his phone and called the sergeant. Once he hung up, he said, “I can’t see Iverson making a bomb while living at the motor court, but I’d sure like to take a look at his room and inside his vehicle.”
“You could always talk to the housekeeper that cleans for Charlie,” Skye suggested.
“True.”
As Wally made a note, Skye muttered under her breath, “But Yuri’s fancy car seems too small to do much in.”
Wally looked up from his pad and asked, “What?”
“Never mind.” Skye finished her pie, licked her fingers, and took a sip of coffee.
“Anything else?” Wally asked.
“Uh-huh. I saved the best for last. My cousin Gillian was in the store.”
“I thought you weren’t too fond of her or her sister,” Wally said, wrinkling his brow in confusion. “Why is she the best thing?”
“Because she and her husband are insured by Homestead,” Skye said with a little smile. Let Wally see how it felt to have info dribbled out.
“And you think she killed Paige Myler?” The skin around Wally’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Let’s go arrest her right now.”
“Funny.” Skye batted Wally’s bicep. “Although it would be beyond cool to drag Gillian off to jail, it’s what she overheard that’s interesting.”
“I’ll bite.” Wally scraped up the last of his sundae. “What did she hear?”
“Paige was making a home visit to inspect Gillian and Irvin’s tornado damage when she got a personal call.” Skye made a face. “Paige stepped away to take it, but obviously she had no idea how small towns work and Gillian followed her and eavesdropped.”
“And?”
“And Gillian heard Paige say she’d do anything to become Homestead Insurance’s youngest vice president.” Skye paused for effect, then added, “Anything including, lie, cheat, and sleep her way to the top.”
Before Wally could respond, there was a loud wail from the stroller. Instantly, a second voice joined in and Skye and Wally each reached for a baby.
Skye checked her son’s diaper and found it clean, then bounced him against her shoulder, but he continued to scream. And although their daughter’s diaper was dry too, and Wally rubbed soothing circles on her back, she matched her brother’s howls shriek for shriek.
Skye shook her head and said, “It doesn’t look as if the twins are going to quiet down anytime soon. We better pack it up and get out of here.”
Shooting apologetic looks at the other diners, Skye and Wally replaced the twins in their stroller and hurriedly pushed it out of the restaurant.
As Wally and Skye crossed the parking lot, his radio crackled. He unhooked it from his belt, keyed the mic, and said, “Chief Boyd here. Go ahead.”
“Your suspect’s lawyer has arrived and he’s throwing a hissy fit.”
“About what?” Wally’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“Not suitable for the radio.” The dispatcher’s voice held a note of laughter. “But you need to get here sooner rather than later.”
“Fine.” Wally glanced at Skye and shrugged ruefully. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Sorry.” Wally helped Skye get the twins loaded into the SUV. “I hate leaving you with two screaming babies.”
“No problem.” Skye picked up her daughter’s and son’s chubby little fists and kissed them. “They’re already winding down. I wonder what got into them. They never cry without a reason.”
“Maybe it was too noisy with all the people there,” Wally guessed, then added, “From what you told me it looks like I need to take a road trip to Normalton tomorrow and find out a little more about our vic.” He asked with a twinkle in his eye, “Care to join me?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Skye kissed him, slid behind the wheel, and rolled down the window. “And speaking of not missing anything, you better be home by six for the first nanny interview.” She shook her finger at him. “I’m not making this decision without you.”
Wally grinned and held up his palms in surrender. He leaned in for another kiss, then echoing Skye, said, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Chapter 17
It’s My Own Fault, Baby
Skye fastened her seat belt and started to turn the key. She should go home, put away the groceries, and get ready for that evening’s nanny interviews. But the babies were already in the car and once again sleeping peacefully. This was a rare opportunity, and she couldn’t resist checking in with Piper.
She’d just zip over to the high school, see how the intern was doing, and make sure Homer had enrolled Mrs. Brodsky’s son. If she was quick, she’d get it all done before the twins demanded their next feeding.
Buzzed on a sugar high from her sweet dessert and feeling like for once she had everything under control, Skye pulled out of the McDonald’s parking lot and turned toward the school. According to the dashboard clock, it was 2:59. The final bell rang at three, but since staff was required to stay for twenty additional minutes, theoretically, both Piper and the principal should still be around.
A few seconds later, when Skye arrived at the high school, buses idled at the curb as teenagers rushed out of the building and climbed on board. Behind the yellow buses, cars were lined up containing parents impatiently waiting for their sons or daughters to appear. And off to the side, juniors and seniors surged toward the student parking area.
Dodging pedestrians, Skye made her way around back to the faculty lot and went through the process once again of getting the twins in their stroller. At the rear entrance, she fumbled through her purse for her keys, finally digging them out from the bottom of her bag.
Strangely, the metal knob felt icy on her palm, and as she maneuvered herself and the stroller through the rear entrance, she had the strangest urge to turn around and go home. Advancing cautiously, Skye saw that the hallway contained only a few students lingering in front of their lockers—laughing, talking, and flirting with each other.
There was no reason for her unease, and as she walked farther down the corridor, she relaxed. She murmured a greeting to a teacher leaning against a recycle bin. He was probably on hall duty, but his attention was focused on his phone as his thumbs flew over the screen.
Skye headed toward the front office. If she was lucky, Opal, the school secretary, could confirm the Brodsky boy’s enrollment and she wouldn’t even ha
ve to talk to Homer.
Spotting Opal standing near the front door chatting with someone in her thirties, Skye glanced at the boy next to the two women. She could see at a glance that he wasn’t their typical student.
Everything about the young man seemed just a little off. From the strangely stiff way he held himself, as if he were a marionette being held up by an invisible cord, to the quarter-sized depression in the middle of his forehead, to the way his brow pleated over the bridge of his nose.
As Skye got closer, she noticed that his arms and shoulders were heavily muscled and his hands were the diameter of Ping-Pong paddles. His size, combined with the vacant look in his eyes, sent a shudder down Skye’s spine. She would bet dollars to doughnuts that his impulse control and social awareness were impaired to some degree, and if he didn’t get the appropriate services, there could be a huge problem.
Before she reached the threesome, the woman and boy walked out the door. Opal turned and saw Skye. Squealing in delight, Opal closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees in front of the snoozing babies.
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Opal whispered, “I hope I didn’t wake them.” Her fingers stretched out as if she wanted to touch the twins, but she fisted them and slowly rose to her feet.
“They’re usually pretty heavy sleepers,” Skye assured the older woman, crossing her fingers that they wouldn’t wake up and have another screaming fit like they’d had at McDonald’s.
“Well, they are just adorable,” Opal cooed. “I was telling Mother last night that I couldn’t wait for you to bring them in for a visit.”
“Aw. That’s so sweet.” Skye smiled, then asked, “How is your mom?”
Mrs. Hill was nearly a hundred and Opal was her only child. During the day while Opal worked, a home health aide stayed with the elderly woman, but all other times, she was her mom’s sole caretaker.
“About the same.” Opal shrugged. “But Mother’s a fighter and is determined to beat her sister. And Aunt Penelope lived to a hundred and two.”
“Wow!” Skye’s eyes widened. “Your family has really amazing genes.”
“Only the women.” Opal sighed. “Some say that the men, whether born to or wed into the family, are cursed and die before fifty.”
“How awful.” Skye wanted to ask if that was why Opal had never married, but the secretary was a private person and had never given Skye the impression she’d welcome questions about her personal life.
“Yes.” Opal blinked back a tear. “My father passed on his fortieth birthday.”
“That must have been a shock for both you and your mother,” Skye said cautiously. She had no idea if Mr. Hill had been a good man or not. When Opal just nodded, Skye changed the subject and asked, “Has a boy by the name of Brodsky been registered for classes?”
“Oh my, yes,” Opal tsked. “That was him and his mother just leaving. He had an incident and we had to call her to pick him up. He seems like a sweet child until he gets frustrated, but the teachers are already complaining that he’s unable to handle the curriculum. Even the non-core classes seem to be overwhelming for him.”
“Because if he were any more stupid, he’d have to be watered twice a week.” Homer stomped out of his office and down the short hall, his voice booming as loudly as the entire percussion section of the band. He completely ignored the twins and continued, “I told Poppy that since she was so gung ho on this kid being at our school, she needed to get him tested ASAP.”
“Her name is Piper. Piper Townsend,” Skye ground out between clenched teeth. Homer’s insistence on getting the intern’s name wrong was getting on her last nerve. Finally, she loosened her jaw enough to ask, “Does that mean you’ve already had a referral meeting?” She was certain he hadn’t done anything of the sort, but this was her way of reminding the principal that there was a procedure to follow for students who were experiencing difficulties with the academic load. For good measure, she raised a brow and added, “Have interventions been put into place matching instructional resources to educational need?”
“I told you, we aren’t doing all that bullpuckey in this school. The feds don’t mandate it and I’m not messing with it.” Homer rattled the bunch of keys on his belt. “Just test him and get him in special ed ASAP.”
Skye rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to keep the annoyance from her voice. “In that case, I guess I’d better talk to Piper.”
“You do that,” Homer thundered. “Tell Puppy to shake a leg.”
“Yeah. I’ll get right on that,” Skye muttered and turned her back on Homer. “Right after I tell her to roll over and play dead.”
“Hey! Wait a sec!” Homer yelled before Skye was able to make her escape. “Have you heard anything about that insurance woman?”
“The investigation related to her death is ongoing.” Skye didn’t believe for a minute that he was concerned about Paige Myler’s passing.
“I wonder if she hit the jackpot before the jackpot hit her.” Homer snickered. When Skye didn’t react, he ran his fingers through his hair, making the wiry mess stand up like a porcupine’s quills. “Are they sending someone out to replace her? Maybe someone that will actually write a check?”
“As far as I know, Homestead hasn’t contacted the police department since they were notified of Ms. Myler’s death.”
Skye wrinkled her forehead, trying to recall if Wally had said anything about Paige’s employer. It occurred to Skye that the company’s silence seemed a bit odd. Shouldn’t someone have talked to the police, if for no other reason than to distance the corporation from liability for Paige’s death?
“When are the police letting Bunny open up again?” Homer asked.
“It’ll probably be a while.” Skye refocused her attention. “There are a lot of repairs that need to be made before the building can pass inspection and most of the area contractors are still busy with tornado connected projects.”
“I miss my night out with my bowling league,” Homer griped. Then he brightened. “On the other hand, things are looking up with that Myler bimbo gone. Maybe now my claim will be settled.”
Skye opened her mouth to comment on Homer’s lack of compassion, but then she walked away before she was tempted to submit her resignation. Or worse, tell the offensive principal what she really thought of him. Right now, the only thing stopping her was that she didn’t want her babies to hear that kind of language.
By the time Skye reached her office, she had counted to twenty and could speak in a rational tone of voice. Piper was behind her desk but sprang up when Skye came through the doorway.
Once the young woman had admired the twins, Skye leaned a hip against her desk and said, “I understand the Brodsky boy is enrolled and is already having difficulties.”
“Yes.” Piper returned to her chair and flipped open a file. “I spoke with Stan’s mother about twenty minutes ago and she is anxious to get him help.”
“Why hasn’t he been evaluated or had services in the past?”
“From what I can gather, six years ago, Mrs. Brodsky’s husband emptied their bank account and ran away with another woman, leaving a mountain of debt.” Piper shook her head. “Can you believe a man would just abandon his children with no way to support them?”
Skye sighed. “Sadly, I can.” Piper was more naive than she’d realized. “What did Mrs. Brodsky do after her husband deserted them?”
“She and her family were homeless for several years, so the kids were in and out of a bunch of schools, but then last spring, she located a church group that had a program to get women and children back on their feet. They found her a job at the Fine Food factory on the edge of town, helped her get into an apartment, and she and the kids were doing pretty well until the tornado.”
“Even knowing how bad conditions can get for people, one thing you never get used to in this job is dealing with such a tragic situat
ion.” Skye sniffed back a tear. “Especially for someone who has already been through such awful circumstances and fought their way back.”
“Luckily, the church group assisted Mrs. Brodsky in securing a temporary place to live.” Piper beamed. “And since Fine Foods wasn’t damaged, she still has her job and the healthcare benefits that come with it.”
“That is fortunate.” Skye moved from her desk to the door. She couldn’t stay long and it was best not to get too comfortable. “From what you said, Stan Brodsky and his siblings have had little or inconsistent schooling.”
“Mrs. Brodsky has done her best, but yes, there are big gaps.” Piper bit her lip and toyed with the folders on her desk. “And I know that usually means ineligibility for special education services, but I’d still like to do a comprehensive initial evaluation.”
“That’s a team decision,” Skye said, knowing full well the team would go along with the eval if for no other reason than to appease Homer.
“I plan to point out to the Student Services Team that the regulations state that if the delay isn’t primarily the result of environmental or economic disadvantage…et cetera, et cetera.” Piper tilted her head. “And I’ll emphasize the word ‘primarily.’”
“It’s too bad Mrs. Brodsky doesn’t have the resources to get Stan a neurological exam. We might have to bite the bullet and recommend it, which will make the school district responsible for the charge.” Skye sighed, knowing the superintendent would have a fit at the cost.
“I was thinking along those lines, too.” Piper screwed up her face. “How much resistance can I expect?”
“A lot, but I’ll help you through it.” Skye smiled reassuringly. “If you can get any school records from before Stan and his family became homeless, and there’s any indication of a prior issue, that will help your case immensely both for evaluation and later placement.”
“I have the list of schools he’s attended and plan to personally phone each one tomorrow.” Piper held up a sheet of paper. “Mrs. Brodsky signed a release of records form, so I’m all set.”
Die Me a River Page 17