Throwing off the covers, she leaped out of bed, then glanced back, looking for her robe. Simon was still fast asleep, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. She kissed him lightly on the lips and headed for the bathroom.
A half hour later, she was dressed in navy wool slacks and baby blue twinset. Simon had finally woken up and was showering. While he got ready, she gulped down a cup of tea and a piece of toast. DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 211
By the time she went back to the bedroom for her shoes he was zipping his pants.
He kissed her and said, ``I need to leave some things over here. I hate putting on dirty clothes the next morning.''
Skye froze. Leaving clothes at each other's places was getting perilously close to moving in together, and she was not ready for that. Was she? She murmured something non- committal, then said, ``Sorry to rush you, but I've got to be at Mom's in ten minutes, and if I'm late she'll chicken out.''
``No problem, let's go.'' As they got into the car he said, ``I'm going to do some investigating this morning about Ruby. Give me a call when you get back, and I'll let you know what I find out.''
``I should be back by noon and at the bowling alley by one. Don't forget tonight is karaoke, and I expect you to sing to me.''
``That's about as likely to happen as my finding out that Ruby is working for the CIA.'' Chapter 9
I Know Why the Caged
Blonde Sings Skye had discovered one of life's little truths: A karaoke machine brought out every bad singer within a thirty-mile radius, and they were all intent on being first to demon- strate why they shouldn't even consider packing their bags and moving to Nashville or Hollywood.
Skye looked around the bowling alley's bar; once again the room was packed. When they had brought out the equipment, and the horde rushed the stage, she had been afraid they were in for a riot. But Bunny had handed out numbers and assured everyone they would get a turn, which meant that at the rate they were going, some of the people possessing the higher digits might be singing at dawn.
The lady currently in possession of the microphone was droning the longest version of ``Danny Boy'' ever heard outside of Ireland. Skye narrowed her eyes. Was that pink fur beginning to grow on the woman's arm? No, maybe not, but even so, Skye could detect a distinct resemblance to the Energizer Bunny--she just kept singing and singing and singing.
Normally Skye would have slipped out of the bar and hidden somewhere with a good book until the musical may- hem was over. Unfortunately, tonight she was trapped. The bartender hadn't shown up for work, and she'd been forced to fill in for him. Considering her limited knowledge of mixing cocktails, it was a good thing most of the crowd drank beer or some other form of malt beverage from a can, bottle, or keg.
She scanned the room as she filled two mugs from the
212 DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 213 Budweiser tap. Where was Ruby? The blonde hadn't been around since Skye had gotten to the bowling alley that af- ternoon. When asked, Bunny had claimed ignorance of Ruby's whereabouts, and then become busy elsewhere, avoiding further questions.
The final strains of ``Danny Boy'' had barely faded when a man weaing a white jumpsuit, dark glasses, and a wig with long sideburns claimed the stage. Somehow Skye wasn't shocked when he started to sing ``Love Me Tender,'' though she was a bit surprised that he was good.
Skye paused in midpour to inspect the Elvis imperson- ator. He seemed familiar, but with the costume and all it was hard to tell. Was he someone from town?
Her concentration on figuring out Elvis's true identity was broken when Hacker, the missing bartender, material- ized at her side, startling her. She dropped the glass she was holding, and it shattered as it hit the floor.
``Damn!'' Skye immediately knelt to pick up the jagged pieces, bumping into the power-washing gear the cleaning crew had stored behind the bar. She made a mental note to ask Bunny how long that equipment would have to stay there. It was really in the way.
Hacker lowered himself much more slowly. His hands shook as he attempted to help clean up the shards.
``Are you sick?'' Skye asked, keeping her voice low. He looked awful. His eyes were like two poached eggs, and his normally olive skin was yellow. The hula girl he had tat- tooed on his right biceps appeared old and jaundiced.
``I'm fine.'' His normal gravelly voice squeaked as though he were just entering puberty.
``Then where were you?'' Skye checked her watch. ``You're two hours late.''
``I got held up. Sorry.''
Skye frowned. Hacker had appeared in town shortly after the bowling alley opened. He was not originally from Scum- ble River, and it was obvious that he had led a hard life. Skye's best guess was that he was in his fifties, but he could be ten years younger or older. His face had a lived-in qual- ity that made his age hard to estimate. He was going bald on top, but wore what was left of his brown hair in a scrag- gly ponytail.
Bunny had hired him without asking for references, and 214 Denise Swanson Simon had been worried, but up until tonight Hacker had been reliable and an excellent bartender.
Skye wondered if he had been drugging. Soon after he'd begun working at the bar, Bunny had confided to Skye that she had met Hacker at her Narcotics Anonymous meetings.
They finished cleaning up the broken glass and got every- one at the bar served without further conversation. Skye was sitting on a stool, keeping an eye on Hacker and trying to decide what to do, when Simon took the seat beside her.
A woman dressed like Madonna was belting out ``Like a Virgin,'' so he leaned close and asked, ``How are things going around here?''
Skye cut her eyes toward Hacker and whispered in Si- mon's ear, ``He was two hours late and looks like crap, but he claims he's fine.''
Simon examined the bartender. ``Can you cover for him? I want to know what's up.''
``Sure. I want to know too.''
Simon walked over to the older man, spoke to him briefly, and then headed out of the bar toward the bowling alley office. Hacker reluctantly followed him.
From the stage, Bunny watched Hacker and Simon leave with a worried expression.
Skye had served seven beers, a bottle of hard lemonade, and two Zimas by the time the men returned. Hacker took over without comment, and she joined Simon, who was standing by the door.
Simon put his arm around her. ``Let's take a walk.''
She nodded and he led her outside, saying as the doors closed behind them, ``That's better. The off-key singing was getting to me.''
Skye leaned against him. ``You should try listening to it for more than two hours.''
``Poor baby.'' His lips brushed her forehead. ``Seems like they're having fun, though.''
``Yep. So far Bunny's Spring Break Bash has been very good for business.'' Skye twisted a little to look at Simon. ``What's the story with Hacker?''
``He got jumped and was embarrassed to admit that someone got the better of him in a fight.''
``Where? Here in town?'' Skye was amazed. She had never heard of a mugging anywhere in the area. DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 215
``Right here in Scumble River.''
Skye knew she had been listening to karaoke too long, because she half expected Simon to start singing a Scumble River version of ``Trouble'' from The Music Man.
To her disappointment, Simon continued without burst- ing into song. ``Hacker says he was supposed to meet Ruby at the Dew Drop Inn this afternoon around four. He was walking into the tavern when he heard a commotion in the alley, so he went over to see what was happening and some- one grabbed him from behind, pressed a gun into his back, and said, 'Hand it over.' ''
``He was meeting Ruby.'' Skye shook her head. ``Why am I not surprised that she's somehow involved in Scumble River's first mugging?''
``I thought Bunny was a pain when she first arrived, but Ruby could give her lessons.'' Simon paused, his expression sour. ``I just hope she hasn't, given her lessons I mean.''
``So what happened?''
``Hacker said he had no idea what the robb
er wanted him to hand over, and when he said as much the guy hit him behind the ear with the gun and he passed out.''
``No wonder he looks so bad. He shouldn't be at work. He probably has a concussion.'' Skye started to go back inside. ``I can finish his shift. He needs to go home. Did he see a doctor or go to the hospital?''
Simon grabbed her hand and stopped her. ``He wants to work. He refuses to see a doctor--I offered to pay because I thought he might not have the money. He says he's okay except for a tremendous headache, but he said it's no worse than some hangovers he's had.''
``Oh.'' Skye allowed herself to be drawn back into Si- mon's arms.
``Hacker did say that when he woke up he had been thoroughly searched, but nothing was missing.'' Simon stiff- ened as the door behind them whooshed open, but relaxed once the laughing group walked past them toward the park- ing lot. ``I'm worried that you or Bunny might be at- tacked next.''
``I think it's pretty clear by now that Ruby has something that someone else wants.''
``And whoever that someone is, he doesn't care who he hurts to get it.'' Chapter 10
Make the Best of a Bad
Blonde
``Did Hacker report being attacked to the police?'' Skye asked suddenly.
It was three A.M., karaoke had finally ended an hour ago, and they were nearly finished cleaning up. The grill closed at eleven, so Frannie and the cook were long gone.
Simon was washing glasses behind the bar, having per- suaded the bartender to go home when they locked the door. He wiped his forehead, leaving a trail of bubbles, and said, ``Not yet. He hasn't had the best experience with the authorities in the past, but I assured him Wally was differ- ent, and he promised to talk to him tomorrow. I said I'd go with him if he'd feel more comfortable.''
``You're a good man, Charlie Brown.'' Skye smiled at Simon, thinking how few guys would be so kind to someone like Hacker. ``Have you told your mother what happened?''
``Yes, she claims she has no idea what Ruby has or who's trying to get it, but I think she knows more than she's admitting.''
``I'd bet big bucks you're right.'' Skye finished emptying the last ashtray and started wiping down the tables. ``Is Ruby back yet?''
``Yes. I sent Bunny up to the apartment to check after we closed up, and she said Ruby was there fast asleep.''
``How annoying, though it's probably best for us to ques- tion her when we're a little more wide-awake ourselves.''
Simon put the last glass in the drainer, wiped his hands
216 DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 217 on a towel, and came out from behind the bar. ``True. She won't be an easy one to crack.''
``That's for sure.'' Skye threw the dishcloth into the laun- dry bag and wiped her hands dry on her jeans. ``Done.'' She sank onto a chair and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ``Oh, I forgot to ask you, did you get ahold of your friend in Las Vegas? Did he know Ruby or anything about her?"
``I did talk to him. He said something about her sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember.'' Simon took Skye's hand, tugged her back onto her feet, and led her out of the bar. ``He's going to dig around a little and get back to me.''
They found Bunny in the office, a pencil poked through the mass of red curls on top of her head, finishing up the bank deposit.
Skye kissed the older woman's cheek. ``Good night, Bunny. See you tomorrow afternoon for the Easter-egg hunt.''
Bunny didn't look up from the old-fashioned adding ma- chine she was using. ``Night.''
``Get some sleep, Bunny. You can do that in the morn- ing.'' Simon awkwardly patted his mother on the shoulder. He still couldn't bring himself to call her Mom, and found it difficult to display affection.
``Night, Sonny Boy.'' Bunny waved at him, still concen- trating on the numbers in front of her. ``I'm almost done.''
Skye and Simon walked out to the parking lot, and he opened the car door for her. ``What time are you getting to the alley tomorrow?''
``The kids arrive at two thirty to dye the eggs, and then Frannie and some other teens I've drafted will take them down into the basement and play a few games while Bunny and I hide the eggs. Charlie's dressing as the Easter Bunny, and is appearing at four to officially start the hunt.'' Skye slid into the driver's seat. ``So I guess I should get here about one to get the egg-dyeing stations set up. We're ex- pecting about a hundred kids.''
``Could you come a little early so we can talk to Ruby first?''
``Definitely.''
Simon leaned forward and kissed her. ``In fact, why don't I pick you up at eleven and we go for an early lunch?'' 218 Denise Swanson
Skye reached up and caressed his cheek. ``Make it eleven thirty. You didn't let me get much rest last night, and I need my beauty sleep.''
Skye struggled to wake up. She had hit the snooze button several times and knew that if she didn't get up soon, Simon would be ringing her doorbell while she was in the shower. Maybe she should give him a key. He'd been hint- ing for the last month or so that he wanted one, and had offered to make her a copy of his, but she wasn't sure that was a step she wanted to take at this point in their relationship.
She had only ever been this intimate with one other man, and look how poorly that had turned out. He had jilted her and left her broke and out of a job.
But now wasn't the time to think about that. She had to get dressed, interrogate Ruby, and help a hundred children dye Easter eggs. Deciding whether to exchange keys with her boyfriend would have to wait.
She rolled over and swung her legs out of bed, her eyes still closed. Her toe encountered something warm and furry, and an infuriated yowl informed her it was Bingo. She had fed the cat when she got home at three thirty, hoping to appease him into letting her sleep past his usual six o'clock hunger alarm.
It must have worked, because instead of rousing her he had been snoozing on the throw rug by the side of her bed. Stepping on his tail had not been the best way to wake him. He narrowed his golden eyes, hissed, and ran out of the room.
Skye swept a sheaf of hair out of her eyes, and dragged herself into the bathroom. She hoped Bingo wouldn't pun- ish her by using someplace other than his litter box for his morning pee. She had tried behavior modification on the feline, but she was afraid he had altered her own conduct more than she had changed his.
After a quick shower, she stood in front of her closet as she blew-dry her hair. What to put on? In her heart she yearned to start wearing spring clothes, but even though it was the last day in March, the temperature was expected to get only into the low forties. Also, there was the question DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 219 of the Easter-egg dye. Did she really want to risk a new outfit?
Fighting the temptation to give in to vanity, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy sweatshirt with a bright orange U OF I printed on the front. Might as well support her alma mater if she couldn't wear something pretty.
Simon arrived as she was lacing up her sneakers. She grabbed her jacket and purse and kissed him, then said, ``I'm famished. Let's go.'' She'd missed supper the night before due to her unexpected bartending duties, and hadn't had time for breakfast.
``We can't have you starving to death.'' Simon took her hand and led her to his car. ``Where would you like to go?''
``Gee, I don't know. We aren't exactly a matched set this morning.'' Simon was dressed for work in a dark suit, shirt, and tie. Skye felt shabby beside him. ``Plus we're in sort of a hurry, so let's just go to the Feed Bag.''
``You know you look beautiful whatever you wear.'' Simon hugged her before tucking her into the passenger seat of the Lexus.
Skye made a face. Simon was always a gentleman, but she knew she was far from beautiful. She had nice hair, when the humidity was low and it behaved itself, and great eyes. On a good day but she could be called pretty, but after less than eight hours of sleep, she was lucky to achieve ``doesn't frighten small children and dogs.''
As they drove to the restaurant, Simon told her about the wake he had scheduled for that afternoon and evening. The
deceased was a popular local man with a big family, which meant there was a lot of work to do preparing for the large crowd that was anticipated.
Other than McDonald's and a sandwich shop, the Feed Bag was the only restaurant in town. The owner, Tomi Jackson, had redecorated in 1984, using lots of mauve and brass, and hadn't touched it since then. Over twenty years of hard wear were catching up with the interior. Rips in the vinyl seats had been repaired with duct tape, and smudges on the walls had been dabbed with a color that didn't quite match the original paint.
Skye and Simon snagged one of the last available booths, and both ordered as soon as the waitress appeared. They 220 Denise Swanson ate at the Feed Bag at least once a week, and knew the menu by heart.
Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) Page 23