Murder of a Stacked Librarian: A Scumble River Mystery
Page 7
“That’s not how he tells it.” Emmy pouted.
“Although we broke up due to a misunderstanding, one of the reasons we never got back together was that he was always trying to change me,” Skye reassured her. “And one of the reasons I love Wally so much is because he doesn’t.”
“Good to know.” Emmy nodded to herself. “I can use that the next time Simon starts to give me a hard time about my past indiscretions.”
Hmm! Interesting! Skye wondered how much time the vivacious blonde and the serious funeral director were spending together. Emmy seemed to be a younger version of Simon’s mother, which would drive him crazy. Then again, Skye detected a certain spark in the dancer’s eye when she talked about him. Was the attraction mutual?
“But we digress.” Emmy turned to Wally. “I doubt you’re here to take me up on the offer of a dance lesson for your wedding.”
“You’re right.” Wally put his arm around Skye. “We won’t be trying anything fancy. We’re keeping things as simple as possible.”
“At least as simple as my mother will allow,” Skye clarified.
“May is a pistol, all right, but you’re doing great.” Wally winked, then turned serious. “We’re here to talk to Phoebe Osborn.”
“Oh, sure.” Emmy grimaced. “Maybe I am as flighty as Simon keeps telling me I am. How could I forget that her mother was killed on Christmas Eve? Let me go find her for you.”
“Is that her?” Skye pointed to a young woman who was the spitting image of what a teenage Yvonne might have looked like. “Over there by the rear wall?”
“Yes.” Emmy nodded, then raised her voice to call, “Pheebs, over here.”
The younger woman started to wave at Emmy; then her gaze went to Wally in his uniform. Her eyes widened and she tore across the length of the room, clearly heading for the door leading to the storage area at the opposite end.
At her first step, Wally shouted, “Halt, police!” Then he took off after her, yelling to Skye, “Cut her off in the alley!”
CHAPTER 8
Read Her the Riot Act
Skye rushed out of the dance school and raced around to the back of the building. At one end, a fence blocked any possible escape, so she ran toward the other side. She slid to a halt a nanosecond before the studio’s rear door burst open and Phoebe flew out.
Clutching her purse in one hand and putting on her coat with the other, Phoebe glanced toward the chain-link barrier, then veered to her left. When she saw that Skye was blocking her getaway, Phoebe performed a graceful pirouette and darted around her.
Skye’s arms closed on thin air and she stumbled forward, barely remaining upright. Making a hasty recovery, she swiveled and gave chase. Phoebe dug a set of keys from her jacket pocket and ran toward a bright green cube-shaped car.
Phoebe was looking over her shoulder at Skye when Wally stepped directly into her path. She attempted to stop, but she was going too fast and skidded into his chest. Even as she tried to twist away, he grabbed her arms, swung her around, and propelled her against the Scion’s side.
He snapped on cuffs and said, “You have the right to remain silent.”
Once Wally had finished reading the Miranda warning to Phoebe and secured her in the back of the squad car, Skye asked him, “How did you get out here so quickly?”
“When I saw Phoebe heading out the back exit, I turned around and ran for the front entrance.” Wally opened the cruiser’s front passenger door for Skye. “Since I knew you were on your way to block the alley, I figured I’d be ready to grab her in case she got past you.”
“Good thinking.” Skye slid into the Caprice; then, as Wally walked around to his side, she said to Phoebe, who was in tears, “Are you okay?”
The young woman shook her head; she was crying too hard to talk.
Before Skye could say anything more, Wally got into the Chevy and cautioned, “We need to wait to talk to her until we get to the station.”
“Because she’s under arrest for fleeing or attempting to elude a peace officer?” Skye guessed. Since being hired as the police psychological consultant, she had been studying the Illinois penal code.
Wally nodded, then looked at Phoebe in the rearview mirror and directed his next comment to her. “It’s a Class A misdemeanor with a penalty of up to one year in jail and a fine of twenty-five hundred bucks.” He stared at the young woman. “Of course, if you cooperate, I could decide not to file the charges.”
After that, Wally was silent. Skye took the hint and kept her mouth shut, too. Once they reached the police station, Wally escorted a still weeping Phoebe into the interrogation room. The space was used more often for coffee breaks than for interviews, but it was set up with recording equipment that Wally immediately activated.
Stepping back into the hall, he said to Skye, “Good cop, bad cop?”
“Probably best.” She nodded, not having to ask which role she was assigned.
“I’m going to act angry at you for being nice to her,” Wally warned.
“And I’ll make sure I seem scared of you,” Skye confirmed.
“Ready?”
“Sure am.”
When Wally and Skye returned to the interrogation room, he reminded Phoebe of her rights and asked if she wanted a lawyer. She sobbed her refusal and he introduced Skye as the police psych consultant.
Skye snagged a box of Kleenex from the counter, then took a seat next to Phoebe and handed her a tissue. “I know you’re upset, but if you can stop crying and tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help you. Why did you run from us?”
“Because she forced her mother’s car off the road,” Wally said as he sat down across from the women and scowled. “Why else would she bolt?”
“I didn’t kill her.” Phoebe used both cuffed hands to push a hank of raven hair from her brow. She turned to Skye. “I don’t know why I ran away. I guess I was just scared and panicked when I saw a cop. My dad and Uncle Hank say that all cops are corrupt and want to pin something on you.”
Skye frowned. Phoebe seemed a lot younger than her nineteen years. And what kind of father told his daughter that the police were her enemy? Some parents had no common sense. Even if you felt that way, why instill in your child such fear and paranoia?
“Is your uncle Hank your father’s brother?” Skye asked, recalling that Yvonne had been an only child.
“No. He’s Dad’s business partner. I just call him uncle because I’ve known him forever.”
“Ah.” Skye nodded. “I have an honorary Uncle Charlie who’s like my mom’s standin father.”
“Yeah. Uncle Hank is sort of Dad’s brother from another mother.”
“If you two are finished bonding,” Wally said, his tone sarcastic, “maybe we can get back to why the prisoner was arrested.”
“Sorry, Chief.” Skye exchanged a frightened glanced with Phoebe. “What were you so scared of?”
“Everything.” Phoebe’s shoulders drooped. “Everyone has been hollering at me forever and I . . . I don’t know where to turn anymore.”
“Who’s been yelling at you?” Skye asked, then added, “Start at the beginning.”
“My mom and dad were mad about the whole college thing.” Phoebe wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and tossed the used Kleenex on the table. “Mom was furious with me and Dad was pissed off at her for screwing things up.” Phoebe sniffed. “It was a whacked-out mess.”
“Why was your mom upset with you?” Skye plucked another tissue from the box and handed it to Phoebe. The situation seemed eerily similar to meetings at school when she tried to calm everyone down in order to get their stories straight and in perspective.
“I, uh, did something Mom didn’t approve of.” Phoebe studied her shackled hands as if they didn’t belong to her. “So she wouldn’t let me take the University of Chicago’s offer to go there last fall.”
“What did you do?” Skye asked, wondering why a mother would punish her daughter that way. Getting into the U of C was a major accomplishmen
t, and there was no guarantee that upon reapplying the next year, a student would be accepted a second time.
“Mom was convinced I cheated on the SATs,” Phoebe muttered.
“What made her think that?” Skye snuck a glance at Wally, who nodded his agreement at her line of questioning. When Phoebe didn’t answer right away, Skye racked her brain for a possible reason and finally asked, “Did you score higher than she expected?”
“No.” Phoebe shook her head. “She expected a perfect score.”
“And did you get it?”
“Close.” Phoebe sighed, then blurted out, “But then Mom found the check.”
“The check?”
“See, I knew this girl who got a twenty-four hundred on the SATs, so Dad agreed to pay her to impersonate me. He got a fake ID with my name and her picture on it. Then we met in the parking lot before the test and I gave her my admission ticket.”
“So after she took the exam for you, what happened?” Skye prodded.
“Dad had already paid her a thousand, and I was supposed to give her another thousand if she scored in the top one percent.”
“Which she did?”
“Yes. With that score and my grades and extracurricular activities, I knew I could get into any college I wanted.” Phoebe beamed, then added, “And I’m a good writer, so the admissions essays were a snap.”
“But?”
“But . . .” Phoebe tore off small pieces of tissue and constructed a mini ski slope in front of her. “Before I could make the second payment, Mom found the check. She made me tell her why Dad was giving this girl so much money. And when Mom heard what we’d done, she went ballistic.”
“So she forced you to skip college this year, retake the SATs, and reapply with your own scores,” Skye deduced, then asked Wally, “Is what they did illegal?”
“Yep.” He ticked off the charges on his fingers. “Scheming to defraud, falsifying business records, and criminal impersonation.” He pointed his remaining finger at Phoebe and asked, “Did your mother tell the authorities?”
“Uh-uh.” Phoebe bit her lip. “But she told Dad that she would if she ever found out he tried anything dishonest again.” Phoebe shook her head. “Mom really hated people who cheated or tried to scam the system. She always said that there was no such thing as a little white lie and no justification for anyone who took advantage of a loophole.”
Skye nodded to herself. Phoebe’s description of Yvonne fit the picture that everyone else had been painting. She seemed to be the kind of woman who set such high standards of behavior, it might be difficult to live with her.
As Skye thought about what Phoebe had revealed, Wally observed, “So your mom pretty much ruined your life. That gives you a really good motive to want to see her dead.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Phoebe insisted. “I wasn’t even mad at her anymore.”
“Yeah. Right,” Wally scoffed. “She screwed up your plans for college and made you get a job, and you expect me to believe you weren’t upset with her?” He shook his head. “How dumb do you think I am?”
“You don’t understand.” Phoebe leaned forward, reaching out to Wally. “I retook the SATs in October and scored almost as high as that other girl did, and I heard a couple of weeks ago that I got into U of C again. In fact, Mom was so proud of me, she and I drove out to the housing development Dad’s building to show him the acceptance letter.”
“Congratulations,” Wally sneered. “How about that year you wasted hanging out with your mom while all your friends went off to school?”
“I was bummed at first, but I had a chance to grow up.” Phoebe’s voice was firm. “I know I’ll have a better college experience now because I understand that there are consequences for doing the wrong thing.”
“How mature.” Wally clapped mockingly. “So why were you fighting with your mom in the library parking lot on Christmas Eve?”
“It was stupid. I didn’t want her to spend the night alone, so I told her I wasn’t going over to my dad’s house. His new wife is really nice, and I love my baby brother, but they have each other.”
“You felt that they didn’t need you as much as your mom did,” Skye suggested.
“Uh-huh.” Phoebe chewed her thumbnail. “But Mom said that she wasn’t going to be alone and that a promise was a promise.” Phoebe turned to Skye. “You understand how it is with mothers. Miss Olive says it’s hard for you to make decisions that your mom doesn’t agree with, too.”
“It can be tough to draw the line.” Skye shrugged noncommittally, but cringed inside. Did everyone think she was a pushover where May was concerned? She’d been really struggling to set limits with her mother, but maybe it was time to try harder.
“If you were arguing over spending the night at your father’s place, where did you end up that evening?” Wally steered the questioning back on track. “You didn’t go to your dad’s and you didn’t go home and you didn’t answer your cell phone.”
“Do I have to tell you?” Phoebe looked beseechingly at Skye.
“Yes.” Skye patted her hand. “We need to know.”
“The thing is, I really didn’t want to go to my dad’s.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “It’s my half brother’s first Christmas, and I knew Dad and my stepmother would be cooing and fussing over him. Heck, they probably recorded his every burp and bowel movement.”
“Did you feel left out?” Skye asked. “Maybe it reminded you of a time when you and your dad and mom were all together for the holidays?”
“Yeah.” Phoebe wiped a tear from her cheek. “It kind of hurts to see Dad starting over like that. Especially now that he has the son he always wanted.”
“Like he doesn’t love you anymore,” Skye murmured sympathetically.
“How sad for you,” Wally said, sticking to his role of bad cop. “Why didn’t you just go home then?”
“Because I knew Mom would force me to go over to my father’s.”
“Then where did you go?” Wally demanded.
“I spent the night at the dance studio. There’s a key to the back door hidden in a fake rock, and I used it to get in.” Phoebe hung her head. “Please don’t tell Miss Olive and Miss Emmy.”
“Can you prove you were there?” Skye asked, then realized it didn’t really matter since the medical examiner had said that due to the extremely cold temperature of the water, he couldn’t give them a precise time of death. The anonymous 911 call reporting the accident had come in at five fifty-five, and Yvonne had been seen arguing with her daughter at four, so she could have been forced off the road anytime within that nearly two-hour stretch.
“No.” Phoebe made a face. “There’s a little break room in the back with a sofa and a fridge. I had the tray of veggies and dip that Mom had made for me to bring to Dad’s, so I just hung out and surfed the net on my laptop.” She grinned. “Miss Emmy insisted that the studio had to have Wi-Fi, so I was all set.”
“Why didn’t you answer your cell?” Wally made a note on the pad of paper in front of him.
“The battery ran out and I didn’t have my charger with me.” Phoebe twitched her shoulders. “Besides, there was no one I wanted to talk to.”
“If your mother wasn’t going to be alone, did she say who she was spending the evening with?” Skye asked.
“I was mad at her for lecturing me about doing the right thing, so I didn’t ask, but my guess is it was this guy she’d been going out with for the past couple of months. His name’s Tom Riley. He owns the bakery in Laurel.”
After a few more questions, Wally asked Skye to step into the hallway and said, “What’s your impression? Do you believe her?”
“I think so. If her story checks out about the new SAT score and being reaccepted to U of C, she really doesn’t have much of a motive.”
“Yeah.” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “If she were going to kill her mom, it probably would have been in the summer when Yvonne put the kibosh on her scheme to cheat her way into college.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Wally agreed, then grimaced. “And that weird car she was heading to when I nabbed her sure isn’t an Escalade. What in the hell was that thing? It looked like a shoe box.”
“It’s a Scion,” Skye explained. “It’s made by Toyota to appeal to teens and young twenties. I’ve seen them on commercials, but not around Scumble River. They might be a little too trendy for parents in our neck of the woods to buy their kids.”
“Probably. Around here they get an old pickup or hand-me-down car from mom and dad.” Wally glanced through the window at Phoebe, who was sitting slumped over with her head in her hands. “I’ll ask her to turn over her laptop to me, then make a few calls to see if her story checks out.”
“Good.” Skye looked at her watch. “It’s still early. Who do you want to interview next?”
“The vic’s husband.” Wally looked back at Phoebe. “I want to get to him before he and his daughter have a chance to compare notes. I’ll have Martinez babysit Phoebe while we talk to her dad.”
“Where does he live?”
“He’s built one of those mini mansions near Laurel. It’s right by the I-80 exit, so an easy commute to the city.”
“Okay.” Skye mentally ran through her to-do list. “How about if I meet you back here around four?”
“You have time to go with me?” Wally asked with a cautious note in his voice. “I thought maybe you had wedding stuff to do.”
“We do have wedding tasks to accomplish.” Skye stared at him until he squirmed. “But I figure if I help you with the case, you’ll have time to help me with the wedding details.” She arched a brow. “Besides, since it will take us nearly an hour to drive to the other side of Laurel, you’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about Emmy Jones.”