Die Me a River

by Denise Swanson

  “You didn’t sound like yourself during our earlier phone conversation.” Wally’s shoulders were tense. His short black hair stood on end, silver strands glinting near his temples, and there was a day’s worth of stubble along his jaw. “I really do value your opinion on cases.”

  “I know you do and I appreciate your apology.” Skye took out plates and silverware. “I think the encounter at the high school with Millicent Rose bothered me more than I thought and you got the brunt of it,” Skye admitted, heat creeping up her cheeks.

  She hadn’t wanted to tell Wally how frightened she’d been being waylaid in the parking lot. She knew he’d want to go after Millicent, and Skye had a hunch that was the worst thing they could do.

  “Being accosted like that would shake up anyone.” Wally took a beer from the fridge, then sat at the tiny kitchen table. “And I really appreciate how easily you forgive.”

  “Well let’s forget it.” Skye’s face was still hot and she was anxious to talk about something else.

  “Well…” Wally’s concerned brown eyes examined her closely. “Are you certain that’s all there is to it? I Googled ‘postpartum depression’ and I have to admit—reading about all those possible symptoms scared the crap out of me.”

  “I’ve learned my lesson. I never go to the internet for medical advice.” Skye giggled. “Last time I did that, I went from a tiny pimple on my arm to dying in three clicks.”

  Wally laughed, then said, “Are you sure you feel okay?”

  “I’m not back to what I was before I got pregnant, but it’s nothing serious. Believe me, I’m hyperaware of what to look for in myself.” Skye unplugged the Crock-Pot and brought it to the table along with the basket of Milano French Rolls and a bowl of coleslaw. “My doctor warned me that it can take up to a year for my hormones to return to their normal levels. She also said that my body is already worn-out after giving birth, then you add the fact that new mothers often don’t get enough uninterrupted sleep and the constant exercise of pushing a stroller and carrying a baby…”

  “You’re beat.” Wally summed up Skye’s explanation as he grabbed a roll, split it open, and heaped it with steaming Italian beef, then added a massive spoonful of slaw to his plate. After taking a swig of his Sam Adams, he added, “Times two.”

  “Exactly.” Skye made her own sandwich and ate a bite. “The problem is that no matter how much I sleep, I still feel tired because I’m aware of every noise the babies make, so I never get to REM sleep. It’s almost like having a hangover all the time.”

  “That brings us back to the nannies we talked with tonight.” Wally ate some of his coleslaw, then asked, “Which one did you like?”

  “I’m not sure.” Skye concentrated on her dinner for a while, then confessed, “I know I need help, but how can we trust a stranger?”

  “Now you sound like me.” Wally chuckled. “They both have excellent training and impeccable references.”

  Skye made a face. “Neither of them seemed stupid, so they wouldn’t give us the names of someone they didn’t want us to contact.”

  “Their seven-year background checks are spotless.” Wally took another swig of beer before adding, “Dad suggested that one of his security team surveil any nanny we hire for a couple of weeks to see exactly what she does while we’re gone.”

  “So we’re back to the nanny cam?” Skye asked, finishing her dinner.

  “Probably a little more sophisticated than that,” Wally drawled.

  “How do we know they wouldn’t watch us, too?” Skye cringed at the thought. “Neither one of us can afford to appear in a sex video that blows up the internet.”

  “None of my father’s employees would risk angering him,” Wally said, then frowned and added, “In addition, I’ll make sure we have a switch to cut off all the cameras.”

  “So you think it’s a good idea?” Skye asked, still uncertain.

  “It’s pretty much our only option unless we both quit our jobs and stay home with the twins until they’re thirty,” Wally teased, then got up and cleared the table.

  “Tempting.” Skye got up to start putting the leftovers away. “Mom did mention taking an unpaid leave from the police department and becoming a granny nanny.”

  “While we’d know the kids were safe,” Wally said as he helped with the cleanup. “Something like that would mean all the independence and space you’ve fought to create between us and your mother would be gone.”

  Once the kitchen was tidy, he took Skye’s hand and led her to the living room. After flicking on the group of LED candles clustered in the center of the coffee table and turning off the rest of the lights, he sat on the couch and pulled her into his lap.

  “In that case,” Skye said as she snuggled closer to Wally, enjoying the golden glow of the candles on his handsome face, “I vote for nanny number one.”

  * * *

  Friday morning after Wally left for work, Skye called the woman they’d selected and she agreed to start work on Monday. Skye had no plans to leave the RV that day, but she would allow the new nanny to take full responsibility for the twins while she did other things around the motor home. If nothing else, she figured she’d have a ton of thank-you notes to write after Saturday’s celebration.

  Next, Skye phoned Carson, who promised her a member of his security team would be in Scumble River no later than Sunday afternoon to install the surveillance equipment. He guaranteed that someone on his staff in Texas would be watching the live feed anytime the babies were alone with the nanny. And if there was a problem, an app on her and Wally’s phones would notify them immediately.

  With those details settled, Skye asked her father-in-law if he was free to watch the twins from late morning until dinnertime. Carson was thrilled. He said that Bunny was having a spa day in Joliet, and there was nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his grandchildren.

  Having made all the arrangements, Skye texted Wally with the results of her calls, then added she would meet him at the station around ten for their trip to Normalton. With an hour to spare, she played with the twins until Carson arrived.

  After making sure her father-in-law had everything he needed for the next several hours, Skye pulled on stretchy black jeans and an asymmetrical, long-sleeved scarlet T-shirt. Once she dusted her face with some bronzer and applied concealer, she headed to the police station.

  As soon she turned onto the block that held the combined PD, city hall, and library, she saw a crowd marching in front of the building holding anti-gambling picket signs. She was confused about what they could possibly be protesting until she remembered that the city council meeting was this morning and that jerk from the grocery store was trying to get permission for his video gaming café. It looked as if he might be in for an unpleasant surprise.

  The police station lot was packed, and Skye had to drive several blocks before she found a place to park her SUV. Hiking back toward the PD, she noticed the elaborate Halloween decorations on both the houses and businesses.

  Skye hadn’t bothered putting up any since everything she’d collected over the years had been blown away in the tornado. Evidently, the rest of the town hadn’t let any loss from the twister stop them.

  She admired the gargantuan spider on the roof of the gas station, the Harley-riding grim reaper in front of the car repair shop, and the creepy cemetery in the yard of the high school physics teacher. Each tombstone had a funny epitaph like DIED FROM NOT FORWARDING A TEXT MESSAGE TO TEN PEOPLE and REST IN PIECES.

  Smiling, Skye continued her stroll, enjoying the scent of burning leaves in the air and the feel of the sun beating on her face. But as approached the police station she heard a cacophony of angry shouts, then a single sonorous voice rang out.

  “No more of the devil’s machines!” A regal-looking woman stood in front of the city hall entrance. “Gambling hurts everyone.”

  At least fif
ty people were marching, holding placards, and chanting. It was quite a feat getting that many folks together on a Friday morning, especially on Halloween.

  Skye stopped in front of the throng to read some of their signs. She nodded to Miss Letitia, the ninety-year-old president of the Scumble River historical society, who held up a poster that read Gambling: the sure way to get nothing for something. The saying was carefully credited to Wilson Mizner, and Skye smiled to herself that the elderly woman was making sure that Mr. Mizner’s intellectual property was being suitably acknowledged.

  The owner of the dry cleaner’s had one that read Don’t Gamble Your Kid’s Future Away. And Skye’s aunt Minnie carried a poster with a picture of a slot machine and a toilet, and underneath was written Do you see the difference? I don’t.

  Edging through the protestors, Skye recognized most of them. Several tried to stop her to chat, but she kept moving, intent on reaching the PD’s door. When she was a few feet from her goal, the person who appeared to be leading the protest stepped in front of Skye and she was forced to either halt or knock her down.

  The woman thrust her hand out to Skye and said, “Udelle Calvert, president of the Stanley County Anti-Gambling League Defense.”

  Before Skye could respond, Wally pushed open the door and strode outside. “Ms. Calvert.” He inserted himself between the woman and Skye. “I assume you’re here in response to the numerous messages that I’ve been leaving you at all of your numbers?”

  “Not now, Chief.” The woman waved Wally away. “I’m here as the president of SCALD to prevent another den of inequity from opening up in your fair city.”

  “You mean like the one you bombed earlier in the week?” Wally moved so that the woman was trapped between him and the building.

  “SCALD does not condone violence of any sort,” Udelle huffed.

  “Good to know.” Wally grasped the woman’s elbow. “Nevertheless, because you have been one of the most vocal in your disapproval of video gaming machines at Bunny Lanes, I need to interview you.”

  Jerking out of his grip, Udelle straightened her shoulders and said, “I’ll speak with you as soon as the city council meeting is over.”

  Wally checked his watch. “They only have one more item on their agenda, which should be dealt with within an hour. I’ll expect you to report to the dispatcher no later than eleven.”

  “You have my word.” Udelle put her hand over her heart and looked him in the eye. “I’ll be happy to cooperate.”

  At that moment, Skye saw Yuri Iverson, wearing a baseball cap and mirrored sunglasses, slinking toward the city hall’s door. He was trying to sneak through the crowd unnoticed. Skye nudged Udelle. When the woman looked at her, she jerked her chin at the man.

  Udelle smiled her thanks, then turned to her troops and shouted, her voice resonant, “Let Mr. Iverson hear what you think of his iniquitous cafés.”

  While the protestors surrounded Yuri, Wally took Skye’s hand and drew her into the police station. Once they were inside, he continued walking with her until they were in his office.

  “Looks as if you and I will have to postpone our fact-finding mission to Normalton.” Wally perched on the edge of his desk facing Skye, who had taken a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs.

  “Most likely that’s for the best.” Skye crossed her legs. “You do realize today is Halloween. Probably not the best time to try talking to people.”

  “Adults working in an insurance company shouldn’t be too influenced by the holiday.” Wally took both of Skye’s hands and leaned forward, smiling. “Businesses are not like the school system. No one wears costumes or takes their coworkers from office to office trick-or-treating.”

  Skye snickered at the image, and as she inhaled, she caught the faint sent of peanut butter. She and Wally had had oatmeal for breakfast. Were there treats in the break room? Had her mother made peanut blossom cookies?

  Refocusing, she said, “Fine. Shall we plan to go on Monday?”

  “Are you okay with being out of town the first time the nanny is with the babies?” Wally asked, running his thumb over her cheek.

  “I’m sure my mother will be willing to stop by, and maybe your father can, too.” Skye bit her lip. “It’ll never be easy to leave them, so maybe it’s best that I’ll be miles away and can’t pop in.”

  “Aw, sugar.” Wally gave her a sweet kiss, then seemed to realize it was time to change the subject. “I spoke with Millicent Rose this morning and warned her not to approach you anymore.”

  “And?” Skye quirked a brow.

  “She agreed.” Wally refused to meet Skye’s gaze and quickly continued, “She wasn’t able to add much to what she told you about the silver figure loitering near the bowling alley, but she did say that he was near a big, black SUV.”

  “Are you going to check to see if any of our suspects owns a vehicle like that?” Skye asked.

  “I’ve already got Martinez on it.” Wally shrugged. “Unfortunately, a lot of people drive black SUVs.”

  “True.” Skye pursed her lips. “Anything else going on with the case?”

  “After I talked to Ms. Rose, I walked through Bunny Lanes. With the explosion, there wasn’t much to see, but I wanted to get a picture in my mind of the layout.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Not really.” Wally made a face.

  She could tell there was more, so she asked, “What else?”

  “We’ve eliminated Zeus Hammersmith and Yuri Iverson as suspects.”

  “You told me about Zeus, but why Yuri?” Skye wouldn’t mind seeing the obnoxious man in jail.

  “Turns out that the city council is granting him a special permit, which he knew he was getting, and that means he had no need for Bunny’s.”

  “If the bowling alley was the target, that leaves Udelle and Bunny’s not-quite ex.” Skye thoughtfully nibbled her thumbnail. “And nearly the whole town, if the perp was after Paige.”

  “It may come to that.” Wally blew out a long breath. “The bomb squad tech emailed me his report and the device wasn’t on a timer, so it had to be set off by someone nearby.”

  “Does that mean Millicent Rose might have really seen the person who detonated the explosive?” Skye asked, her heart racing.

  “Probably.” Wally sighed. “Now if she could just give us a better description than something resembling a central air-conditioning unit.” Skye chuckled and Wally said, “Enough about the case. Are we ready for tomorrow?”

  “I think so.” Skye ticked items off her fingers. “The twins’ christening outfits are ironed. My dress and your suit are hanging in the closet.” She paused, then added, “And our shoes are on the shelf.”

  With almost all their belongings destroyed in the tornado, it was a constant struggle to remember what they’d need to buy for each new occasion. Skye had never realized all the items they both took for granted that had been stored in their closets and drawers.

  “How about the party afterward?” Wally asked. “Any last-minute stuff?”

  “Mom’s got it under control.” Skye snickered. “And I do mean controlled.”

  Wally was still chuckling when there was a knock on the door. He walked over and opened it, admitting Udelle Calvert. The tall, thin woman’s black hair was in a sleek french twist and she wore a gray-skirted suit. Spotting the bright-white athletic shoes on her feet, Skye smiled. Evidently Udelle had made a comfort-versus-style decision. Marching a protest line in heels would be painful.

  Udelle’s dark eyes lit with anticipation when she saw Skye, and she asked, “Are you here to sign up for SCALD? We have another march tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, no.” Skye shook her head. “I’m the police psych consultant.”

  “Oh.” Udelle’s patrician nose twitched and her shoulders sagged.

  Skye waved the woman to a chair and said, “I understand you
’ve been harassing Bunny Reid about her video gaming machines.”

  “Not harassing.” Udelle scooted her seat away from Skye as if she were contagious. “Attempting to enlighten her as to why children should never be exposed to gambling. It’s just disgusting.”

  “So you’d be happy that her gaming lounge was destroyed.” Wally sat behind his desk and stared at the woman. “Do you have any idea how that might have happened?”

  “No.” Holding up her palms, Udelle used her legs to edge her chair even farther away. “I’m completely nonviolent.”

  Wally leaned forward and said, “But it does work out well for you.”

  “Not really.” Udelle crossed her arms. “It’s not as if Ms. Reid won’t just repair the damage and start up again.”

  “But there will be a delay.” Wally quirked a brow. “Maybe enough for you to change Bunny’s mind.”

  “If she had one,” Udelle sniffed. “What evidence do you have to accuse me of the bombing?”

  “We can clear this up with a simple question,” Wally said smoothly. “Where were you Monday night between eight and ten o’clock?”

  “I was in Laurel, shopping.” Udelle dug through her purse and produced a four-by-six-inch plastic folder. After reaching inside the file, she handed Wally a bundle of receipts and smiled triumphantly. “When you started leaving me messages, I figured you’d want to see these. Look at the time and dates stamped here and see for yourself.”

  “If you had an alibi, why didn’t you call me back?” Wally asked.

  “It’s not my job to make yours easier.” Udelle shrugged. “Besides, I’ve been busy.”

  “I can also check the stores’ security footage,” Wally warned.

  “Then you’ll realize that I’m telling the truth.” Udelle’s smile was serene.

  After flipping through the slips of paper, Wally stood and opened his office door. “Thank you for your time.”

  When Udelle had gone, Wally ran his hands through his hair, looked at Skye, and said, “Well, that leaves O’Twomey, and of course all of Paige Myler’s enemies.”

  “Look at it this way.” Skye smiled sympathetically. “At least Bunny’s almost-ex isn’t a part of the Irish mob like I first thought.”