Die Me a River

by Denise Swanson

  “You both are so mean.” Bunny crossed her arms. “If you must know, that night, when the nice fireman let me go back into my apartment to get a few belongings, I sneaked down the inside staircase.”

  “I thought those steps had collapsed.” Wally frowned. Was this another of the redhead’s tall tales?

  “Only partially.” Bunny puffed out her chest. “Remember, I was a dancer so I can jump and land on my mark without a problem.” She inhaled. “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, I gathered up all the burnt hundred-dollar bills that I could find, returned to my apartment, and packed them in my luggage.”

  “And where is that suitcase now?” O’Twomey demanded.

  “It’s in the trunk of my car,” Bunny answered. “If you weren’t so paranoid, and would have just met me in Joliet like I suggested, I was going to hand it over to you.” She chewed her lip, then warned, “But there’s not much left of the bills.”

  “Satisfied?” Wally asked. “If Ms. Reid hands over whatever is left of your cash, are you willing to let the matter drop?” When O’Twomey didn’t answer, he added, “You know you can turn in mutilated money to the Treasury with an explanation and they might reimburse you.”

  “Right. The government and I are on such friendly terms,” O’Twomey sneered, then looked at Bunny and said, “You give me what you got, and we’ll call it square. I can’t blame you for a bomb going off.”

  “That is so sweet of you.” Bunny sagged against the back of her seat. “No hard feelings about me dating someone else?”

  “Nah.” O’Twomey grinned. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  Wally examined the man’s expression and tone of his voice, not entirely convinced of the sincerity of his forgiveness. He’d have to describe the interchange to Skye and get her opinion.

  Having committed O’Twomey’s demeanor to memory, Wally waited a heartbeat, then asked, “So what about this proof that you couldn’t have detonated the explosive?”

  Chapter 23

  Wonder Where My Baby Is Tonight

  Skye glanced across the Hummer’s console at Wally’s handsome profile as he exited onto I-55 heading south to Normalton. Sighing, she wiggled in her seat until she found a comfortable spot and then turned her thoughts to the last thirty-six hours.

  Late Saturday afternoon, once O’Twomey had produced his passport—proof that he’d been out of the country at the time of the bowling alley explosion—Wally had turned him over to the Stanley County State’s Attorney, who had charged O’Twomey with reckless discharge of a firearm.

  A second, more serious charge of aggravated battery on a police officer would be added, if, after a lineup, Paul Tolman could identify O’Twomey as the man who hit him over the head.

  Thankfully, Bunny hadn’t been charged with anything. However, she’d had to face Carson. Skye hadn’t heard the results of that encounter, but she was pretty darn sure her father-in-law had no idea what he was getting into when he’d begun dating the wild redhead. Skye wouldn’t be at all surprised if their relationship ended sooner rather than later.

  After O’Twomey had been escorted to the county jail and Bunny had been dropped off at the motor court, Wally had finally been free to go home. But by the time he got there, it was already past 8:00 p.m. While the shower guests were long gone, their unopened gifts were piled in the RV, taking up every available surface.

  Although Skye’s parents and Carson had helped her get the presents from the tent to the motor home, there had been so many that there hadn’t been enough room from them anywhere out of the way.

  When Wally had walked into the RV, Skye was attempting to soothe the twins, who had had enough of parties and were sobbing their little hearts out. It had taken both of their parents to get them to sleep. And by then, Skye and Wally were too exhausted to talk about the case.

  Sunday hadn’t been much better. Luckily, the catering company that May hired included cleanup in their contract, and the rental company had taken down the tent while Skye and Wally were at Mass.

  However, after they got home, there had been a continual flow of callers—ostensibly checking to see how Skye and Wally were doing but, in reality, wanting the dirt on the shooting. When their stream of visitors finally dried out, close to 10:00 p.m., she and Wally once again hadn’t had a chance to discuss the case before falling asleep.

  And this morning, Wally had headed into the police station early so he could put in a couple of hours before they left for Normalton. While Wally was gone, Skye had familiarized the nanny with the twin’s routine, showed her where everything was kept, and concentrated on not having a meltdown at the thought of leaving her babies.

  It had taken everything she had in her to get into the Hummer when Wally had come to pick her up at ten o’clock. Skye reassured herself that the nanny was under constant surveillance, May would be checking up on things at noon, and Carson was stopping by at two, which was only a couple of hours before Skye and Wally would be home themselves.

  Now, Skye finally felt as if she could talk without bursting into tears, so she cleared her throat and asked, “How is Paul doing?”

  “Good.” Wally kept his eyes on the road. They were passing Dwight, and that could be a busy interchange. “Tolman’s doc is satisfied that the mild concussion won’t have any lasting effects and released him from the hospital around 8:00 a.m. They initially thought they’d discharge him on Sunday, but his blood pressure was still a little high so they kept him an extra day. He stopped by the county jail on his way home to view a lineup and identified Bunny’s ex as the guy who hit him.”

  “What will that mean for O’Twomey?”

  “Aggravated battery to a police officer where the physical contact doesn’t result in great bodily harm is a class two felony.” Wally’s voice was businesslike. “A conviction can put him in state prison for up to seven years.”

  “So Bunny won’t have to worry about him coming after her?” Skye twisted her fingers into a knot of concern.

  “Ah.” Wally chuckled, raising his brows. “You didn’t believe his forgive-and-forget speech either.”

  Skye shook her head. “From what you describe of his demeanor and expression, not for a second.” She relaxed against the back of the seat. “I’m relieved he’ll be behind bars for a good long time.”

  They were both silent for the next few miles, but as they passed the exit for Odell, Wally said, “I’ve been thinking about the bombing.”

  “Me too.” Skye half turned in her seat, ready to go to work as the PD’s psych consultant. “First, are we both in agreement that it is now more likely that Paige Myler was the intended victim of the explosive device rather than Bunny or the bowling alley?”

  “Yes.” Wally frowned. “Having eliminated all the suspects connected to Bunny, and with the added information of the detonator being separate from the bomb, as well as Millicent Rose’s claim that she saw someone hanging around the area, I agree.” He paused. “Not that I was able to get a better description of the perp from her. She still insists that the person was about three feet tall, nearly as wide, and had silver skin.”

  “If we consider Zelda’s idea that the fairy godmother was behind the destruction,” Skye said slowly, “maybe Miss Rose’s description is meant to throw us off her trail.”

  “Martinez’s theory is on the absolute bottom of my list.” Wally scowled. “I don’t think that Rose woman could put together a jigsaw puzzle let alone a bomb.”

  Discussing the fairy godmother had reminded Skye of something and she tipped her head. “Speaking of Millicent—”

  Wally interrupted, “Let’s not get distracted from the murder. We can discuss Millicent’s predictions and actions later.”

  “Okay.” Skye nodded, understanding Wally’s desire to keep on track. “Earl said something, just before O’Twomey burst into the tent, about overhearing Paige’s phone call telling
someone not to come back to Scumble River. Who do you think she was talking to?”

  “Good question.” Wally pursed his lips. “Her cell phone was destroyed in the explosion, but we can ask her carrier for her records.” He scowled. “I probably should have done that right away, along with looking into her personal life.”

  “Quit it!” Skye lightly smacked Wally’s thigh. “It will only be a week tonight since the explosion and you have limited resources. You needed to use the manpower you had to look at the most probable scenario first. Not to mention that you didn’t know about the remote detonation until a couple of days ago.” She whacked his leg again. “You were right to concentrate on Bunny and the bowling alley. They were much more likely targets of the explosion than Paige.”

  “I could have asked the country sheriff for help.” Wally rubbed his eyes. “Or the state police.”

  “Yes, you could have.” Skye watched them fly by the exit for Pontiac. “But do you really believe that either of those agencies would have been able to get the kind of information that you and I have from the people involved?”

  “Maybe not.” Wally rolled his neck, then nodded and said, “Okay. Pep talk over. Back to the case.”

  “We should consider the phone call Gillian overheard, too.” Skye twisted a curl around her finger as she thought about it. “If Paige was willing to lie, cheat, or sleep her way to the top, there might be someone who she stepped on while she made her way up.”

  “We’ll try to figure out both the identity of the person she threatened with the restraining order and if her unbridled ambition was a problem for anyone while we chat with the vic’s coworkers today.”

  “That’s a tall order with people we’ve never met.” Skye raised her eyebrows. “We better hope her colleagues are all gossips.”

  “I’ve cleared it with her boss for you to wander around and chat with the employees in her group while I conduct the more formal interviews. And I especially want you to have a conversation with the guy she replaced in Scumble River. He ended up transferring to another department.” Wally gripped the steering wheel as a semi darted into his lane, cutting him off, then shot her a grin. “I have every confidence in your suspect-whisperer ability.”

  “There was something else I wanted to ask you about, but I can’t think of it right now.” Skye gazed out the window at the meticulously kept houses and recently harvested fields as the question teased at the edge of her mind. Hoping to clear out the cobwebs inhabiting her brain, she rolled down the window a few inches and inhaled. Even with the highway smells, the air was fresh, with only an occasional trace of hog to remind her that around the next bend or just out of sight were working farms. “I know.” She snapped her fingers. “You mentioned that Paige’s divorce wasn’t quite official yet. Do you know the settlement terms?”

  “The terms were pretty straightforward.” Wally shrugged. “When the divorce became final, everything they owned would be evenly divided.”

  “Are the couple’s assets usually frozen during the procedure?” Skye asked.

  “I think that’s something that depends on the individual situation and what the couple’s lawyers think is necessary.”

  As they neared the Normalton exit, the scenery changed from farmland to college town. Once Wally made the turn, Skye would never have guessed that crops would be growing less than a mile away.

  Wally parked the Hummer in the insurance company lot, and after helping Skye out of the SUV, they hiked across the pristine asphalt toward the entrance. Either it had just been resurfaced or the company hired a really thorough cleaning crew to scrub the blacktop every weekend.

  When they approached the row of cars nearest the building, Wally paused and said, “I wonder what business Yuri Iverson has with Homestead Insurance.”

  “What makes you think the gambling lounge guy is here?” Skye wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

  Wally pointed to a black Range Rover with tiger stripes painted down the center of the hood and said, “That’s his SUV. The custom paint job is too distinctive for there to be another vehicle around here with the same design.”

  “This isn’t Yuri’s car.” Skye touched the fender. “He was driving a blue Audi when he stole my parking space at the grocery store.”

  “Last Monday, when I first met Iverson, he was at the florist. And this Range Rover was parked out front.” Wally frowned. “I assumed it was his SUV.”

  “That’s odd.” Skye pursed her lips, then said, “You know, Stybr Florist is only a couple doors away from the bowling alley.”

  “Good point. Let me jot down the license plate number.” Wally took the notepad from his shirt pocket and said, “I’ll call Thea and have her run it while we’re talking to the vic’s colleagues.”

  As they strolled up the sidewalk, Skye examined Homestead’s building. It clearly had been built during the 1980s and the repeated modular elements of the concrete design were a stark contrast to the newer structures in the adjacent business parks.

  When they reached the entrance, she studied the elaborate double doors. Etched glass and fancy metal scrollwork screamed Look at me. See how important I am.

  Walking inside, Skye said, “Isn’t Normalton where Spencer Drake ended up working?”

  “It is.” Wally smiled. “Too bad he’s head of one of the university’s security rather than with the Normalton Police Department.”

  “Right. We could ask him to help us investigate. Not that the local officers won’t cooperate.”

  “Actually, when I let the NPD chief know we were going to be in town, she offered any assistance we needed.”

  When Skye reached the elevator, a large woman dressed in a bright-green pantsuit was just getting out. She towered over Skye and had to have at least a hundred pounds on her.

  The woman held out her hand to Wally and said, “You must be Chief Boyd. I’m Susie Oldwary, the executive VP’s admin.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Wally shook her hand and said, “And this is my wife, Skye, who acts as the PD’s psych consultant.”

  Susie nodded and led them into the elevator. “I’ve got you set up in a conference room on the third floor. The claims department occupies the entire level, and, of course, that’s where Paige had her office.”

  When they reached their destination, Wally put his hand on Skye’s waist and they exited. Susie ignored Skye but took every opportunity to touch Wally.

  Finally, after providing Wally with a list of Paige’s coworkers and employees, she gave him two visitor badges and leaned closer. “Why don’t you give me your cell number in case I think of something you might find interesting?” She smoothed her hands down her abundant hips. “I understand that a picture is worth a thousand words…”

  “No need.” Wally took a step back. “I took your statement over the phone. If you have any more information, just call the police station.”

  “Your loss.” With a sniff, the woman left them alone.

  Giggling, Skye mimicked Susie’s throaty voice and said, “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything else, Chief?”

  “Right,” Wally snorted. “That was odd. I can’t understand why she’d come on to me like that with my wife standing right here.”

  “You seem to attract those types of women.” Skye shook her head, glad her recent bouts of paranoia and jealousy seemed to be gone. “Look at Emmy.”

  “She just likes yanking your chain.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Wisely, Wally didn’t pursue the topic and instead called Thea and asked her to run the Range Rover’s plate number. And while he did that, Skye checked in with the new nanny. The woman assured her that everything was under control and the babies were sleeping, but glancing at Wally and seeing his face darken, Skye didn’t think he’d had as good of news.

  Finishing his call, Wally blew out a breath and said, “The system is down. Thea will r
un the plate as soon as it comes back online.”

  Skye patted his arm sympathetically. Slow computers and wonky internet service were all part of small-town life and neither of them would trade the benefits for something like a better satellite signal.

  Wally kissed her cheek and said, “I’ve been thinking…” He handed the list to Skye. “If you escort the people we want to talk to here, maybe they’ll chat with you while they wait to see me.”

  “How about we start with Mick Ackerman, the guy who had been in Scumble River before Paige replaced him.” She glanced at the paper in her hand. “And once you get going with him, I’ll go get Angela Sommer, Paige’s administrative assistant. She should know all the dirt.”

  “Perfect.”

  Skye quickly located Mick and brought him to Wally. He rejected her attempt at casual conversation, and once he was with Wally, she set off to find Angela.

  Angela was a sweet young woman with a ready smile, and once Skye introduced herself as the police psych consultant, she seemed happy to chat with her. Waiting for Wally to finish with Mick, the two women sat in a pair of comfy chairs in an alcove near the conference room and talked about the weather and a movie that Angela had recently seen.

  In due course, Skye said, “We haven’t been able to find out much about Paige’s personal life. I know you’d never share that type of information when she was alive, but it would really help us in trying to find out who murdered her.”

  “Murdered?” Angela squeaked. “Mr. Myler said that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “We did think that at first.” Skye leaned forward catching the scent of Angela’s perfume. She smelled like freshly sliced peaches and vanilla cream. “But we’ve discovered new evidence that suggests Paige was the intended target.”

  “It was probably one of those people who were trying to scam us for more money.” Angela crossed her arms. “They were so mean.”

  “I’m not following you.” Skye forced herself not to frown. “Do you mean the victims of the tornado who were trying to get their claims settled?”