Murder of a Stacked Librarian: A Scumble River Mystery

by Swanson, Denise

On the other hand, the Star’s Police Beat column listed the arrests made each previous week, so it would have been easy to notice that charges hadn’t been filed against the young woman. Even if Yvonne hadn’t known Janet’s name, if there was no female in her early twenties arrested for cocaine usage in the paper, the librarian could have put two and two together and realized the officer to whom she’d reported the crime hadn’t followed through.

  Skye turned off the water and grabbed a towel. The real question was, would Yvonne have sought out Zuchowski to question why Janet hadn’t been prosecuted, or would she have taken her concern to his boss—either Wally or Quirk? Skye was fairly certain the librarian would have gone up the chain of command, and clearly she hadn’t spoken to Wally. Had she talked to the sergeant?

  Again, Skye was reasonably sure that Quirk would have brought the matter to Wally’s attention. Especially since it was clear that the sergeant was fed up with Zuchowski’s behavior. If nothing else, Quirk would have put a note in the rookie’s file.

  After drying and flatironing her hair, Skye applied her makeup and put on a pair of black flannel slacks and a red turtleneck sweater. She packed the lingerie she planned to wear underneath her bridal gown in a duffel bag, then grabbed her wedding shoes.

  Before adding the box to her carryall, she lifted the lid and admired the elegant peep-toe sling-backs. She fingered the Swarovski crystal on the side of the instep and the tiny white fur poof on the strap. They were perfect. It had been difficult finding a pair with a reasonable heel, but even though Wally was a good five inches taller than she was and she could have worn stilettos, she hadn’t wanted to spend the entire day with sore feet.

  Checking her watch, Skye hurried downstairs. Where had the time gone? She fed Bingo, gulped down a bowl of Special K, and headed to Barrington. It would have been nice to have some company on the long drive, but Loretta was increasingly uncomfortable riding in a car, Trixie wasn’t arriving home from her husband’s family holiday party until late afternoon, and Frannie was spending every minute she could with her boyfriend, Justin Boward.

  Justin was a year younger than Frannie and still attending Joliet Junior College. He and Frannie hoped he’d be accepted to the University of Illinois for his final two years so that they could be together. Skye had her fingers crossed that he’d get in too. She was afraid that since his girlfriend had made the cut, if he didn’t, his confidence would be shattered. Which might end the young couple’s relationship.

  If Justin wasn’t accepted, Skye wasn’t sure how he’d react. If need be, she was prepared to step in and pick up the pieces. He’d been in counseling with her from eighth grade until partway through high school, and she wasn’t willing to let all her hard work go down the drain. He was her friend, and that was as important a relationship as when he’d been her student.

  With that happy thought, Skye arrived at the bridal salon. As she walked through the doorway, the dial on the shop’s French tabernacle clock showed precisely nine a.m. Although her dress fit perfectly, the appointment still took nearly ninety minutes. Part of the time was spent settling the bill, which involved a phone call to her cousin in California, who was picking up the tab for the gown as per a longstanding agreement she had with Skye. The dress was payment to Skye for having stepped in as the bridal coordinator at her cousin’s wedding when the original planner was murdered.

  An hour later, Skye was back in Scumble River. She went directly to her parents’ house to drop off her wedding dress. She and her bridesmaids would be getting ready at her folks’ place, so it seemed easier to store the gown there. This plan would also prevent Wally from accidentally—or on purpose—seeing the dress before the ceremony.

  When Skye arrived at her parents’, her father’s old blue pickup was parked in the driveway. Because it was winter, Jed, who was a farmer, wasn’t in the fields; instead he spent a lot of time in his heated garage, tinkering with machinery and other projects. Before going into the house, Skye opened the pedestrian door to say hello.

  Jed’s dog, a brown Labrador named Chocolate, shot to his feet and raced toward Skye. Thankful that she had left her gown in the car, she braced herself, then squatted down and hugged the excited animal.

  “You staying for lunch?” asked Jed, who was never one to waste words.

  “I’m meeting Wally at twelve thirty to go interview someone over in Laurel concerning the librarian’s murder.” Skye was well aware that her folks ate at noon on the dot. “So if I do, I’ll have to eat and run.”

  “No importance.” Jed turned back to the motor he had in pieces on his workbench.

  “Mom might not see it that way.” Skye knew her father wasn’t saying the woman’s murder wasn’t important, but instead that it wasn’t a problem if Skye had to leave immediately after the meal.

  “Don’t tell Ma. Just go.” Jed took off his International Harvester cap and scratched his head. “Life’s easier if you plow around the stump.”

  “You’re so right, Dad.” Skye patted Chocolate goodbye, then retrieved the garment bag containing her wedding gown from the backseat of her Bel Air and went inside. She was anxious to see if May had kept her promise to remove all the interior Christmas decorations so the photos taken as the bridal party dressed wouldn’t highlight the holiday. Being born in December, Skye had spent years having Christmas overshadow her birthday, and she wasn’t going to allow it to happen to her wedding, too.

  As Skye entered the utility room, she saw that it was still decked out in pine boughs festooned with big red satin bows and sprigs of holly. Stepping into the kitchen, she noted the countertop held a Santa cookie jar, reindeer salt and pepper shakers, and a napkin holder in the shape of a snowman. The sight of the three-foot-tall white tree adorned with shiny green ornaments, which stood in the corner of the dinette, added to her displeasure.

  Skye took a deep, cleansing breath, counted to ten, then bit her tongue. Her mother had until Saturday, so there was no use starting an argument now. If worse came to worst, Skye would sic Trixie and Frannie on the decorations before the photographer got started. And she’d haul the multiple Christmas trees out of the house and onto the trash heap herself.

  May had been intent on adding ingredients to a pot simmering on the stovetop and hadn’t noticed her daughter’s arrival, but as she turned and saw Skye, she snapped, “What happened between you and Wally last night?”

  “Hello to you, too, Mom.” Skye kept her tone neutral. An upset May was a dangerous May. “And to answer your question, nothing happened. We interviewed Yvonne’s husband, went to dinner, and came home.” She deliberately omitted the conversation she and Wally had overheard at the restaurant. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because instead of spending the night with his fiancée, like he should have four days before his wedding, he was at the police station until all hours of the morning.” May waved a wooden spoon at Skye. “And he wasn’t alone. Zelda Martinez was with him. Her shift was over and he asked her to stick around. You need to put a stop to that immediately. She’s a beautiful, much younger woman.”

  “Whoa.” Skye’s head was spinning. She could hardly believe that her mother had just admitted that Skye and Wally usually slept together. It was an issue that May had been in denial about since Wally and Skye had started seeing each other three years ago.

  The additional fact that her mother seemed concerned that Skye and Wally might be fighting was mind-boggling. Up until last March, May would have been thrilled to see her daughter angry with Wally. She would have been urging Skye to break up with him and take Simon back. Now May was worried that Wally was cheating on her daughter. Would wonders never cease?

  Either May had done a complete one-eighty and become a fan of Wally, or she was so invested in the wedding, she couldn’t bear to let anything stop it. Both scenarios worked for Skye, and she hurried to assure her mother that everything was fine between her and her groom.

  “If you two are so darn hunky dory, why was Wally at the PD so late last night?” M
ay went back to her cooking, but she didn’t let the matter rest. “And why did he have Zelda there until the wee hours? Dante’s going to blow his stack at Wally paying her overtime.”

  “Wally has a lot of work to do with Yvonne’s murder and all, so he probably needed Zelda to do research, or background checks, or something like that,” Skye prevaricated. For good measure, she added, “He wants the case solved before we go on our honeymoon.”

  “Speaking of that, you’re going to love what Wally has planned.”

  “You know where we’re going?” Skye asked, incredulous at the idea that her mother knew and she didn’t. “How did you find out? Who told you? Did Wally tell you? Where are we going?”

  “Of course I know, and I can’t tell you where. I promised Wally I would keep it a secret, and I never break my promises. He checked with me to see if I thought you would like his idea, which I did. I even gave him a money-saving tip,” she bragged.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Skye was stunned at the whole concept of Wally and her mother maneuvering behind her back. What had Wally been thinking, consulting May? Skye took another cleansing breath. Then, before she blurted out something she’d regret, she said, “Let me hang up my dress and you can tell me all about it.”

  As Skye passed her mother heading toward the hall, May grabbed her arm. “Hang it in your room. Don’t go into my bedroom.”

  “Okay,” Skye agreed. “Why?”

  “There’s a surprise for you in there that I don’t want you to see until later.”

  A surprise? May’s surprises were rarely good ones. Skye shuddered and took yet another cleansing breath. At this rate, she’d hyperventilate and need a brown paper bag to keep from passing out before the wedding.

  CHAPTER 13

  Cock-and-Bull Story

  Skye was beginning to feel as if she spent her whole life in a car and ninety-five percent of that time on the road to Laurel. She’d been a little late meeting Wally at the PD, so when she arrived, he thrust a folder at her, told her to read its contents on the way, and nearly shoved her into the police cruiser.

  As ordered, she’d devoted the past half hour to studying the file. Several of Wally’s officers had spent all of yesterday confirming information from the witness and suspect statements that had been taken the previous day.

  They’d verified that the library had indeed been open on Christmas Eve until four in the afternoon. Loretta’s description of Yvonne’s attire had been corroborated by another patron. And the parishioner who had overheard Yvonne and her daughter arguing had been located, and she had substantiated that the quarrel she’d observed appeared to be about where the young woman would spend the night.

  On the forensic side, the crime lab had confirmed that Phoebe’s laptop had indeed been used at the dance studio during the time she claimed to have been there.

  Skye closed the folder with a sigh. Apparently everyone they’d talked to so far had been telling the truth, which meant they were back to square one. No wonder Wally seemed so grumpy. Either that or his bad mood had to do with the Zuchowski situation. She wasn’t sure which scenario was worse.

  Deciding she had to deal with his crankiness eventually and it was better to get it over with right away, Skye asked, “So how did the evidence closet inventory go?”

  “Everything was accounted for.” Wally scowled. “But I’m having the drugs that were stored there reevaluated to make sure they are what they’re labeled and Zuchowski didn’t substitute something and steal the real thing. We’re dropping the samples off before we talk to Tom Riley.”

  “How long will the tests take?” Skye was glad that nothing had been missing, but clearly, Wally wasn’t satisfied. “Any chance we’ll know today?” She hoped they’d have the results quickly so Wally could stop worrying that he’d been lax in his duty.

  “Yeah.” Wally combed his fingers through his hair. “The process is relatively simple. They’ll call as soon as they get through.”

  “Was Zuchowski in Scumble River the night of Yvonne’s murder?”

  “Thank God, no.” Wally’s expression brightened slightly. “I never thought I’d be happy to learn one of my officers had lied in order to get time off, but I guess I’d rather he was a liar than a murderer.”

  “Good choice.” Skye could feel Wally’s stress radiating outward like sonar waves.

  “Quirk finally got him on the phone this morning, and after some not so gentle persuasion, Zuchowski caved like a cardboard box and admitted he was on vacation and had been since Saturday night.” Wally winced and massaged his temple. “He’s flying home this evening and has been ordered to report to the station before midnight. And to bring his airline ticket receipts and his girlfriend with him.”

  “And once you have proof of his alibi, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

  “Right,” Wally grunted. “Then all I have to deal with is that he’s a druggie who has been selling to his friends and looking the other way while they party.”

  “At least you’ll know he’s not the killer.”

  “Too bad we don’t know who is.” Wally’s face was set in hard, tight lines.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Skye assured him; then, trying to cheer him up, she teased, “Mom was in quite a tizzy about you working late and being alone with the young and oh so beautiful Zelda Martinez.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Wally’s brows shot into his hairline.

  “Nope.” Skye grinned. “She thought we’d had a fight and you were cheating on me. Isn’t it great that she’s changed her mind about you, and not only wants us to be together, but is determined that nothing will stand in the way of our marriage?”

  “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” Wally shot Skye a sharp look. “You didn’t tell her what was really going on, did you?”

  “Of course not. I was the one who warned you not to let her know,” Skye huffed. “I just said that you were extremely busy with the murder investigation and that you wanted to solve the case before we left on our honeymoon.” She paused, then glared at him. “And by the way, why in the world would you tell Mom where we’re going when you won’t even tell me?”

  “I didn’t,” Wally protested. “I mean, not intentionally. She saw some brochures on my desk, and she sort of guessed, so I figured I might as well ask her if she thought you’d like what I was considering. And it turned out she was pretty darn helpful.”

  “Really?” Skye was happy that her mom and Wally were getting along better, so why did she have such a bad feeling about the whole thing? She mentally shrugged. She was probably just paranoid where her mother was concerned.

  “Uh-huh.”

  When Wally didn’t continue, Skye asked, “How was she helpful?” It was always good to check May’s version of events against reality.

  “She tipped me off to a good deal,” Wally answered, then quickly added, “Not that I was concerned about the cost, but this way I could get us even nicer accommodations.”

  “Hey, I love a bargain, and I know you’re not cheap,” Skye assured him.

  “I just want to make sure you know that I’d pay any amount of money to make you happy.”

  “Being with you makes me happy.” Skye leaned over the console and laid her head on his shoulder. “As long as we can have time alone without any distractions, I’ll be thrilled with any honeymoon spot you pick.”

  “Me too.” Wally cupped her cheek. “Just you, me, and a sunny day.”

  Skye stayed resting against him until a pothole bounced them apart. When she settled back into her seat, she said, “Having lunch with my parents today put me off schedule and I didn’t have enough time to stop at the bank to get the checks and cash we need for the wedding vendors. Do you think we’ll finish here while it’s still open?”

  The Scumble River First National Bank had extremely limited hours of operation and was closed for more holidays than the schools. Most people found it a challenge to get to the bank to do business during the narrow window of
opportunity, but complaints did little good. It was a privately held company, and the owner ran it like a fiefdom.

  “Probably. It’s going on one thirty now, so say an hour with the vic’s boyfriend and an hour to get home, we should be in town by four and I think the bank is open until five today.” Wally shrugged. “But it’s hard to say how long an interview will take or what will come up. If you can’t go tomorrow, maybe I can.”

  “Let me think.” Skye tried to remember what she had scheduled for Thursday, then gave up and grabbed the big blue wedding organizer from her tote bag. The binder was heavy, but she’d decided several weeks ago that carrying the extra weight was worth the effort in order to keep track of everything. “Frannie and Trixie are coming over at ten to help me make the favors. Then we’re taking them, the seating plan, the place cards, and the guest book to the Country Mansion’s reception coordinator. So if I’m at the bank when it opens at nine, I should be in good shape.”

  “Okay.” Wally pulled to a stop in front of the crime lab. “But let me know in the morning if you want me to get the cash and checks.” He got out of the Caprice, retrieved the carton of evidence bags from the trunk, and as he closed the driver’s door said, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  While Skye waited for him, she ran a fingertip down her list. So far, she was on schedule. She had prepared the ceremony and reception boxes with the items that were needed for each event—programs, unity candle, emergency kits, etc.—and they were stashed in the foyer ready to be picked up by her aunt Minnie, who had volunteered to be in charge of their safe arrival at the church and restaurant.

  When Skye got home today, she would place her hose, jewelry, makeup, and the backup list with the vendors’ phone numbers into the duffel that already contained her lingerie and shoes, then put that carryall in the front hall as well. She’d already given the wedding-day schedule to her attendants, the groomsmen, the ushers, her parents, and Wally’s father.

  As Skye was sliding the organizer back into her tote bag, Wally got into the squad car and said, “They’re going to rush the tests and will call my cell in a couple of hours with the results.”