“Gossip?”
“I like to call it vital information.” He shrugged. “After all, it’s the lifeblood of any small town.”
“True, but with you being an outsider, will people give you the real scoop?”
“I guess we’ll see. My first column is in this week’s paper. But ask yourself this—you’re a native Scumble Riverite, right?”
Skye nodded.
“And which of us knew about the feud between Annette and Evie for Promfest chair?” He got up and headed for the door. “I’m out of here.” Over his shoulder he added, “Nothing else interesting is going to happen.”
Skye watched him as he left. His powerful, well-muscled body moved with an easy grace. On second thought, considering his sexy smile, hot body, and charm, the ladies of Scumble River would almost certainly be willing to tell him all their secrets, not to mention those of their neighbors and friends. Heck, if he took off his shirt, they’d probably be willing to make something up.
Kurt had been right; the rest of the meeting was a snooze.
It had started with Annette explaining that the main mission of the Promfest committee was to solicit donations and raise money, which eventually led to her announcement: “The first fundraiser of the year is our Witch’s Ball haunted house. We need volunteers to sell tickets, construct the set, and act as the monsters. I’m sending around a sign-up sheet, and I expect to see not only your name, but your spouse’s and teenager’s, as well.”
There was a murmur from the crowd and several hands shot into the air.
Annette ignored them and started the sheet of paper around. “Remember, in order for your student to fully enjoy Promfest, he or she will need a bank account full of Prom Bucks to spend on food, games, and activities. And you can earn these PBs with every hour you volunteer, prize you solicit, and donation you make. Just for attending today’s meeting you’ve earned your teen five thousand PBs.”
Skye watched in amazement for a few minutes as the parents vied to sign away their free time; then she quietly got up and slipped out of the room before the volunteer list reached her table. Not that she would have volunteered for any activity, but she particularly hated haunted houses.
She hadn’t been in one since she was six years old, when her brother, Vince, who was ten at the time, abandoned her to go play with his friends. She had wandered around lost and crying until some adult finally noticed her and led her to an exit.
Skye shuddered at the memory, quickened her steps, and nearly ran toward the safety of her office.
As she slid into her desk chair, panting, she noticed the phone’s message light flashing. The bell would ring in five minutes. Three minutes after that, Brady Russell would show up at her door expecting to be tested. Did she have time to listen to her voice mail and get set up for him, as well?
She’d never be able to concentrate with that little red light blinking. Cradling the receiver between her neck and shoulder, Skye punched in her password. As she waited for her code to be approved, she grabbed Brady’s file and started to fill out the identifying data on the IQ protocol.
She was figuring out his exact age—the current date minus his birthday—when the mechanical voice said, “You have three messages.”
Darn. She’d been hoping for a hang-up, but nothing was ever quick and easy in this job. Skye shook her head and pushed the correct button to continue.
“Message number one, left Monday, September thirteenth at eight-fifteen.”
There was a slight pause, then Homer’s voice boomed from the receiver. “Where in blue blazes are you? Come to my office immediately.”
The next one, left at eight-twenty-five, was also from the principal, but the volume of his voice had risen considerably. “Opal said you signed in at seven-thirty. Are you ignoring me?”
By the time Skye got to the last message, recorded at eight-thirty, his baritone blasted in her ear, “Get your butt down here ASAP. I don’t have all day to babysit this woman.”
Apparently, the first crisis of the day had materialized.
Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry Page 26