Wally reluctantly agreed, and they walked out to the parking lot together. It wasn’t that Skye didn’t trust Wally, but she did watch to make sure he actually got into his T-bird and drove away from the police station before sliding behind the wheel of her own car. As she steered the Bel Air down the familiar road toward home, she had mixed feelings. While she was glad that both she and Wally were now officially off duty until they returned from their honeymoon, she was disappointed that they hadn’t yet figured out who had killed Yvonne Osborn, or why.
With only forty-five minutes to shower, curl her hair, and reapply her makeup, Skye was just pulling on her clothes when she heard the front door open and Wally’s voice announcing his arrival. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, then caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror and hesitated. Yikes! When she had purchased the dress for the rehearsal, she’d been afraid the skirt was a little short, and now, after two weeks of holiday overeating, the hem was well above her knees.
Not wanting to be late, Skye knew she didn’t have time to change, so with a silent apology to the gods of fashion, she hurried down the stairs. As always, Wally was breathtakingly handsome in a charcoal gray suit, steel blue shirt, and red silk tie. He whistled when he saw Skye, and she ran into his arms. Maybe the dress wasn’t too snug after all.
However, once the rehearsal was over an hour later, Skye stood at the back of the church thinking maybe she should have put on something else, if for no other reason than to avoid the inevitable criticism from her mother.
May tugged at Skye’s skirt and fussed, “This is way too tight on you.” Leaning forward, she hissed in Skye’s ear, “Have you gained weight? What if your wedding gown doesn’t fit?”
“Thanks so much, Mom,” Skye drawled. “You look real nice, too.”
“I wish I hadn’t let you talk me into this outfit.” May frowned, yanking at the waist-length beige lace jacket she wore with a brown satin tank and matching slacks. “It’s too fancy for me. Everyone will be saying, ‘Who does she think she is?’”
Skye smiled, happy her mother’s attention had been diverted from her daughter’s clothing choice to her own appearance. Because although Skye’s dress was more figure-hugging than her normal choice, and more of a mini than she usually preferred, she loved the soft red material shot with silver threads. And the boat neckline was both elegant and flattering. Most important, Wally loved her in it.
Realizing that May’s mind had wandered and she was now complaining to her son that he had ruined her hair, Skye looked around. The rehearsal had gone smoothly, and the bridal party and their significant others were waiting in the narthex for Wally’s father to appear and tell them where the dinner was being held.
Quentin had cornered Wally as soon as the priest dismissed them, and the two men were having what appeared to be a serious discussion off to one side. Wally caught Skye’s gaze and twitched his shoulders, indicating that he was trapped and she nodded her understanding.
Looking away from where her fiancé and his cousin stood, she glanced nervously toward the entrance. Where was Carson? Should she interrupt Wally and Quentin to ask what was going on? Before she could decide, a huge white limousine pulled up in front of the building.
Skye watched through the church’s glass doors as Carson Boyd emerged from the rear of the limo, strode inside the building, bowed to Skye, and said, “Your carriage awaits, darlin’.”
“Wow!” Skye was as close to speechless as she ever got. “All I can say is wow.” She grinned at her future father-in-law and shook her head. “I guess when I said that I didn’t want people to have to drive too far for the dinner, you took me seriously.”
“I certainly did, sugar.” Carson beamed. “I knew you were worried about people driving home under the influence.” He dusted his hands together. “I thought a limo would solve that problem and still let us eat at a decent restaurant.”
“Where are we going?” Skye asked, excited to learn Carson’s choice.
“Tallgrass in Lockport.” Carson took her elbow. “Have you been there?”
“No.”
“Chicago magazine named it one of the top-twenty restaurants and Zagat gave it a twenty-eight out of thirty rating.” Carson’s Texas twang increased as he spoke enthusiastically about the restaurant.
“That sounds wonderful.” It was a good thing Wally had given May a cover story for his father’s spending habits. “But it may be a little extravagant for my friends and family.” Skye worried her parents and attendants might be uncomfortable. Their taste ran more to the Lone Star Steakhouse than to fine dining.
“Trust me.” Wally joined them, putting an arm around Skye. “It’s not a little extravagant.” He rolled his eyes at his father. “If Dad picked it, the place is over-the-top.”
CHAPTER 23
Many Happy
Book Returns
When they first arrived at Tallgrass, Skye felt a flicker of disappointment. The stone-and-brick Victorian building wasn’t what she’d envisioned when Carson had described the top-rated restaurant. And as her future father-in-law escorted her down an uneven flight of concrete stairs, she glanced uncertainly at Wally, who shrugged as he opened the door for her.
Stepping over the threshold, Skye heard her mother mutter to Uncle Charlie, “Why do we have to come in through the basement?”
Uncle Charlie’s answer was lost when the hostess greeted Carson, Skye, and Wally and took their coats. Once the rest of the bridal party had assembled and been divested of their outerwear, the woman showed them into an area to the right of the lobby. Here the cherrywood wainscoting and antique gas chandeliers were more what Skye had been expecting.
The large room was empty of any other diners, and three long tables were positioned in a U-shape to accommodate the fourteen people in their party. Cut-crystal goblets and wineglasses sparkled next to beautiful china, and polished silver was nestled on snowy-white napkins, creating a stunning setting.
As Skye gazed at the vacant tables scattered around the rest of the space, the hostess came up to her and murmured, “We usually do private events at the Tallgrass Loft in the Norton Building, but that was already booked, so Mr. Boyd purchased the entire second seating.”
“Wow.” Skye smiled at the woman’s awed tone. “How thoughtful of him.”
Once everyone had taken their places, three servers appeared and handed out specially printed menu cards that had WALLY AND SKYE in a heart on the top. As she studied the choices, her mouth watered. This could very well turn out to be the best meal she’d ever eaten.
To Skye’s right, Trixie and her husband conferred over the selections. While Trixie seemed delighted, Owen’s brow was wrinkled in confusion. Glancing around, Skye noted that her parents, Uncle Charlie, and Justin shared Owen’s bewilderment, but Loretta, Vince, Frannie, Grandma Denison, and Father Burns were on Team Trixie.
After drinks were served, Wally and Skye got to their feet, and Wally said, “Skye and I would like to thank all of you for being not only a part of our wedding, but also a part of our lives. And for giving us your time and energy to help make our big day special.”
Wally and Skye lifted their wineglasses, and she saluted, “To our friends and family.”
Carson rose, turned to Wally and Skye, and said, “May you always work as a team. Because if you don’t pull in the same direction, you’ll be hanged by the rope.”
Quentin advised, “May you always be partners, friends, and lovers.” He winked. “But not necessarily in that order.”
Trixie popped up next and giggled. “May Wally be a man who will mess up your hair, not your mind.”
Before anyone else could come up with a toast, the first course was served. Skye had chosen the trio of soups, and she was amazed to see that the snap pea/fennel, potato/mushroom, and watercress/sweet onion were all in the same bowl, but somehow separated into three distinct sections.
As Skye sampled her soup, she checked out the other guests’ responses to their appetizers. Whi
le she watched, Owen picked up a sprig of watercress from his salad, examined it as if it were a foreign object, then chomped off the end like he was biting off a wad of chewing tobacco. Trixie followed Skye’s gaze and swatted her husband’s shoulder. He grinned and snatched a morsel from her plate.
To Owen’s right, Justin was inhaling his butter-poached wild prawns as if he were a surgeon who had to get back to a patient he’d left on the operating table. Suddenly, he stopped and poked suspiciously at the balsamic bubbles on top of the shishito peppers; then, apparently deciding they weren’t poisonous, he shoveled a forkful into his mouth.
Jed and May had different methods of attacking the unfamiliar food. Jed popped a whole crab beignet into his mouth; then, with his jaw moving as speedily as a sewing machine needle, he chewed and swallowed the delicacy. After a moment, he grunted his approval and reached for another beignet.
May, on the other hand, approached her sweet red pepper panna cotta like a finicky feline presented with a new cat food. Using her spoon, she broke off a tiny piece of the custard, then took rapid little bites like a chipmunk eating an acorn. Once she had sampled the dish, she switched to her fork and dug in.
Ten minutes later, Charlie finished his bruschetta salad, wiped his mouth on his napkin, and said, “For fancy crap, that was pretty darn good.”
After Charlie’s pronouncement, they progressed through the remaining three courses without incident, and even those who had seemed daunted by the menu were oohing and aahing over the food. Conversation was lively, and everyone appeared to be having a great time.
Two hours later, dessert was served. Skye gasped when hers was placed in front of her. Four dark chocolate walls bordered a flourless chocolate cake foundation, and the entire towering structure was filled with raspberries and whipped cream. Her plan to take just a tiny taste flew out the window at the first spoonful. Lord have mercy, she hoped she could get into her wedding dress the next day.
Most of the party had finished eating when Skye and Quentin simultaneously excused themselves to freshen up. They chatted as they walked toward the bathrooms, and Skye found herself enjoying Quentin’s company. She wondered about his relationship with Wally and hoped that after spending time together during the wedding activities, the two men would become closer.
As Skye and Quentin paused outside the restrooms, she said, “I’m so glad Wally asked you to be his best man. It’s nice that he has his family to support him tomorrow. Sometimes I feel bad that there’s no one who lives closer to him since I have so many relatives within a five-mile radius.”
“That’s his choice.” Quentin’s expression was hard to read. “He could be in Texas working at CB International with me and his dad. His father has been trying to persuade him to do just that ever since we got here.”
Skye was about to defend Wally’s choice when something clicked, and instead she said, “But you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“Truthfully?”
Skye nodded.
“No. And not because he’d be stepping into my shoes.” Quentin made a face. “I just don’t think he’s cut out for that kind of job, which is what I was telling him after the rehearsal.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s too honest.” Quentin raised a brow, clearly daring Skye to make a comment. When she didn’t, he continued. “Wally is too much of a Dudley Do-Right. There aren’t a lot of shades of gray in his world.”
“I see.” Where had Skye heard that before? “And that would be a problem why?”
“Because it would threaten the business. Which means not just the Boyds but thousands and thousands of employees and their families.”
“Can’t you do the right thing as a company?”
“Not always.” Quentin shook his head, a stubborn look on his face. “Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to keep the business in the black and beat your competition.”
“And Wally would never be comfortable cutting those kinds of corners.”
“Forget comfortable.” Quentin laughed. “He just plain wouldn’t do it.”
“True. And he wouldn’t allow you to do it either.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “Which would be the real problem, right?”
“Absolutely.” Quentin thrust out his jaw. “And I could never allow him to threaten our company. So it’s just as well that he keeps turning down Uncle Carson.”
Skye contemplated Quentin’s words while she used the facilities. Something about what he had said niggled at her subconscious, but when she returned to the table, Grandma Denison struggled to stand in order to give one last toast before the group left the restaurant, and her words pushed aside what Skye had been pondering.
Cora Denison was Skye’s only remaining grandparent. At eighty-six, she had buried a husband, two stillborn babies, and a teenage grandson. Up until a year ago, she’d made a batch of her famous Parker House rolls nearly every Sunday, but she had been failing for quite a while, and Skye was thrilled that her grandmother had felt well enough to attend the rehearsal. Now she gazed tenderly at the old woman who was such an important part of her life.
Cora leaned heavily on her cane, but her voice was strong. “Skye and Wally, my wish for you is a long and happy life, with few cares and sorrows and many friends who are faithful and true.” She paused, then added, “And may your voyage through life be as happy as the dancing waves on the deep blue sea.”
At Cora’s last few words, May snickered and Skye looked at her mother. What was so funny about that?
• • •
A little before seven a.m. Saturday morning, Skye bolted upright in bed. Yawning and stretching, she quickly glanced out the window. Although all the local meteorologists had promised it would reach fifty degrees today, with only a slight chance of drizzle, she was beyond reassured to see that there was no snow falling or ice crystals coating the glass.
For the past six months, May had been hyperventilating about a blizzard shutting down the wedding. After hearing her mother’s dire prediction so many times, Skye had almost begun to believe it would come true. But May had been wrong. The weather would be just fine. In fact, it might be a tad too warm for the bridal gown Skye had chosen, which was something she could deal with in exchange for a nice day.
Once Skye had showered and put on her favorite blue tracksuit, she strolled downstairs. Bingo was waiting in the kitchen by his food bowl, and before she put the kettle on to boil, she took care of his needs. As she sipped a cup of tea, she realized that it felt funny not to be rushing somewhere. But as far as she could tell, everything was ready. She had nothing to do for nearly two hours, until her hair and makeup appointment at nine.
Still full from last night’s amazing dinner, Skye was trying to decide if she should eat something despite her lack of appetite when the doorbell rang. Setting her mug on the table, she headed down the hall. Her aunt had picked up the ceremony and reception boxes yesterday, so she wasn’t expecting anyone. A ripple of apprehension flashed down her spine as she peered out the window and saw Frannie and Justin on her porch. What in the heck were they doing here?
“You’ve got to see this.” Justin rushed inside as soon as Skye opened the door.
“Sorry,” Frannie apologized. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to do the morning of your wedding, but Wally’s not at the police station and we felt kind of funny going to his house.”
“Look what I found.” Justin thrust the laptop at Skye and kept talking as she squinted at the small screen. “I finally got into the files this morning, and I totally understand why she had them password protected.”
“Let’s go sit in the kitchen.” Skye gave up trying to read the wobbly monitor. “I have a feeling I’ll need coffee for this.”
Once they were settled around the table with cups of French Roast at their elbows, Skye studied the documents that Justin had brought up on the computer. She read each page several times before she fully understood what she was seeing. According to Yvonne’s notes, Neil Os
born’s so-called ecofriendly housing development was built on contaminated acreage.
“Now, this is something that a person would kill over,” Skye muttered half to herself.
“That’s what we thought.” Frannie reached across Skye and brought up another file. “See, here it says that Yvonne gave her ex-husband until the day after New Year’s to own up to what his company was doing or she was going to the authorities. She states that he claimed she was mistaken about the property being polluted, but she thought he was just trying to wiggle out of taking responsibility for what he’d done.”
“I wonder how she found out about the tainted land,” Justin said, taking a sip of coffee.
“I bet I know.” Skye got up, ran upstairs, then returned with the suede ankle boots she’d been wearing when she and Wally had visited the development. “I thought these were grass stains on my shoes, but I bet they’re some kind of dye Neil was using to make the turf look green.”
“Why do you think that?” Frannie asked.
“Because the lawn around the construction trailer was brown. Only the playground and the finished houses had green grass.” Skye scraped a fingernail along the marks and sniffed. “This smells like chemicals.”
“There was an exposé that I used for a talk in one of my journalism classes about a developer who built on a contaminated site and it was discovered because the grass would never grow right.” Justin wrinkled his brow. “In fact, I made Xeroxes of the article at the Scumble River Library a month or so ago to include in my handouts. I was one short, so maybe I left it in the copy machine.”
“And Yvonne could very well have found the article, read it, and remembered it when she visited her ex’s development.” Skye tapped her mug with her spoon. “And I know she was there a couple of weeks ago because her daughter said they drove out together to show Phoebe’s father her college acceptance letter.”
Murder of a Stacked Librarian: A Scumble River Mystery Page 21